Cold Steel (Spiritwalker 3)

“Cat,” said Rory, warningly.

I poked anyway. “Besides the bad fit, for the dash jackets are too loose and too tight in all the wrong places, the colors really do not benefit his complexion. Your attire is so exquisite in all ways that I cannot believe you have urged him to wear another man’s clothes.”

Her right eye half winked shut in a flicker of irritation. “He has promised to burn them all when the cold mage is dead.” With that she returned to the main group. Drake came to meet her.

Rory got to his feet. “Cat, will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut?”

“Burn his lovely dash jackets! Think of the disrespect to the tailors who cut and sewed them!”

“Cat.”

My volcanic ire subsided before it spilled over into gouts of red-hot stabbing. General Camjiata beckoned. On we rode through the long afternoon. Fortunately our pace was slow enough that at intervals Rory and I could dismount to walk instead of riding.

As twilight descended we entered the grounds of a lord’s estate with a long artificial pond graced with fountains and a terraced set of clamshell-shaped lawns leading to a stately house. Troops stretched out on the grounds, having not even erected tents. They leaped to their feet with cheers as the general’s entourage made its way to the big house.

The general stood on the steps and raised a hand for silence.

“I came ashore in a rowboat from my exile,” he cried. Back in the ranks, men called his words farther back yet, so all could hear. “You are the ones who had the courage and the vision to march! Let us not forget our ancient war with the Romans. Our grandparents did not forget! Our histories and songs do not forget! The bards remind us that from the northern shores of Africa all the way to the ice, we have all fought the Romans, sometimes alone, but on this day, together! We are the storm that will batter down the arrogance of our enemies! One sharp blow, and victory is ours!”

How they cheered, for his presence had a bonfire’s glory. It warmed even me, although I knew better than to be smitten by a forceful man’s vision of what could be if only he and I could come to an accommodation. Look how that had turned out, when Vai had courted me!

What had happened to the inhabitants of the lordly house I did not know, but a cadre of anxious servants set a hastily prepared meal before us in a once-magnificent dining room. Brass lamps were set out to replace richer fittings that had been looted. Young officers waited their turn to bring forward reports as the general and his staff ate through a leek soup, roasted mutton and turnips, pears stewed in wine, and several varieties of cheese.

“It will give me pleasure to burn this place down as we leave,” said Drake, looking at me as he said it, for the man did need to boast constantly as he tried to intimidate me.

I held Drake’s gaze as I speared a morsel of mutton, popped the meat into my mouth, and devoted my attention to enjoying its moist savor.

Camjiata glanced up from the dispatch lying at his left hand. “I am so relieved you enjoy your food, Cat. As for the house, it shall be spared for the hospital train. Lady Angeline, if you will remain behind to await the hospital, I know I can safely put you in charge of administering all. Your father asked me to make sure you stayed well back from the scene of battle, since you are pregnant.”

Pregnant!

Drake’s leering smirk turned to a lift of the chin as he contemplated this signal triumph. I opened my mouth to ask if it was truly Drake’s, since all knew that fire mages were indifferently fertile. Rory’s foot pressed down so hard on my toes that I yelped.

“What Cat means to say,” Rory said as he kicked my shin for good measure, “is how delightful she finds the prospect of actually being allowed to sleep in a bed. Me, too. For I swear to you, I hurt all over.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Especially my thighs, but not, alas, from any riding that would have pleased me.”

The general chuckled, ignoring the blush of one of his younger officers. “You two will accompany me to the library, where I will spend the night. Perhaps there will be a chair for you to sleep in.”

Several helpful orderlies dragged in a long couch on which Rory and I fit, curled up with our heads at each end and our feet commingling. I slept fretfully, for the general’s lamp burned all night as messengers came and went. Very late, I woke needing the water closet.

“As soon as we have placed our line across the field,” Camjiata was saying to a collection of officers, “we will commence bombardment with artillery.”

A short, thin man dressed in the white sash of the Kena’ani sacred band—the famous Elephant Barca—spoke up just as I wrapped the shadows around me and crept for the door. “If the Roman army arrives while we’re engaged with the Coalition, we’ll be crushed between them.”

“We will defeat the Coalition quickly, and pivot to hit the Romans while they’re still trapped in columns, before they have time to deploy across the field. The key is to draw out and then capture or eliminate their cold mages.”

A chill seized my heart. Had I made a terrible mistake in coming here, in leaving Vai behind? The thought took hold in my mind and would not let go. Anxiety muddled me, for although I found the water closet easily enough, I lost my way going back. Instead of returning to the library, I found myself at doors opening onto a stone terrace.

A solitary flame drew my eye. James Drake sat on a stool with five fire mages at his back, four catch-fires kneeling with heads bowed, and three people facing him like strangers brought before a prince.

“I will not lie to you,” said James Drake in a kindly voice I scarcely recognized. “No fire mage is ever safe. If you wish to be safe, then learn from the blacksmiths how to lock away your fire and hope it never escapes.”

“The blacksmiths would not have me!” said a stocky young man who stood with arms crossed belligerently.

“What of you?” Drake asked the younger of the two lads.

eneral stood on the steps and raised a hand for silence.

“I came ashore in a rowboat from my exile,” he cried. Back in the ranks, men called his words farther back yet, so all could hear. “You are the ones who had the courage and the vision to march! Let us not forget our ancient war with the Romans. Our grandparents did not forget! Our histories and songs do not forget! The bards remind us that from the northern shores of Africa all the way to the ice, we have all fought the Romans, sometimes alone, but on this day, together! We are the storm that will batter down the arrogance of our enemies! One sharp blow, and victory is ours!”