Blood War (Blood Destiny #8)

Blood War (Blood Destiny #8) Page 13

"I don't have any argument with you," I pushed his hand away. "And whatever the General wants, he'll probably get unless he asks for sex. Why is the High Commander sending two men toward Phergis?" Phergis was the capital city of Farus, where Rindle's castle stood. It was also the nearest city to Seaport, where the Pelipu's troops had landed on Farus.

"He's sending two back?" Warn whirled to look. The two racing horses were all that could be seen, now. That caused him to snort. "Fucking spies," he muttered.

"Probably on their way to deliver a message to the Pelipu," Gus said. "It'll take a day and a half to ride back to Seaport, and then another two days to cross the channel, and a day beyond that to get the message to The Red Hand himself."

"So, we have ten days or so, before a message comes back?"

"Sounds about right," Ander agreed. "And who knows what was in that message to begin with? Could just be that the commander didn't like his breakfast this morning." The others laughed. If I were free to go and wasn't worried over my discovery, I'd go right then, place compulsion on the High Commander and find out things for myself. Meanwhile, I was forcing myself to play by the rules.

The Captains came out after a while, ordered everybody to saddle up and we were on our way half an hour later, after the General's tent was taken down and packed away.

We were still traveling over wet ground—the wagons got stuck as usual, which held everything up and we went about half as far as the General wanted to go. He was frustrated by our lack of progress and grumbled when we were forced by darkness to camp for the night. The High Commander was giving us the cold shoulder, too, choosing to show up for meals only.

"This bread is disgusting," Desmun tossed the dry lump onto his plate. "Is it too much to ask to get decent bread, at least?"

He was right—the bread was disgusting, but I had a feeling that the people in the cooking tents were the ones being punished for infractions, since the regular cooks had been arrested and sent back to Phergis. What could you expect except a lousy meal?

"With your permission, General, I'll go out and find better cooks," I volunteered.

"Can you get me a good breakfast tomorrow morning?" The General asked.

"I can try," I nodded. He gave permission, Warn offered to watch the General and Captain Solis, so I went looking for cooks among the Regulars.

"Who can cook? Show me your hands," I said to the first tent filled with Regulars, all of whom were trying to eat what we'd been served. Two hands went up. "Do you like to cook?" I asked my second question. Both hands stayed up. "Good. Meet me at the cooking tents tomorrow morning, two hours before sunrise." I went to the next tent and asked my questions again. Before it was over, I had thirty-five willing hands, and they all showed up at the cooking tents very early the following morning. I kept my shield up around the General's and the officers' tents—I'd have an early warning in case anything happened while we all went over basic biscuit and bread making. The bread dough had to be set to rise in special pots hauled in the cookwagons. We sliced the bacon thin enough that it would cook quickly and wouldn't be so tough we couldn't chew it. We made gravy to go with the biscuits and fried potatoes—we had plenty of flour and potatoes. Few eggs, though; those were as precious as gold until we reached a town to the north and east. I learned we were hoping to get more salted beef and pork, there, and perhaps a fresh meal or two.

"Well, this is certainly an improvement," Solis said as I sat between him and the General with my plate of food. I'd taught the new cooking staff that one of the perks of cooking was getting extra rations. It was only fair.

"You get to decide how to punish the ones we took off cooking detail," I said, biting into a decent piece of bacon. "Take my advice and don't let them anywhere near the cooking tents from now on."

It was a better day all the way around; the wagons barely got stuck once, and only three fights broke out. "Feel like doing a little sparring?" The General had taken his green coat off and dropped it onto a campstool as soon as a handful of Regulars got his tent up.

"If you want," I nodded. Actually, I wasn't looking forward to it. I figured we'd have an audience, and I wasn't wrong.

"You won't upset me if you give me a thrashing," he grinned and lifted his blade. At least the ground was firmer, here, and the new grass was taller. I was happy with the smell of spring in the air, but I wasn't crazy about the horse poop and the trenches that were dug every night. They were far enough away that they didn't bother the others, but if the wind was right, it carried the stench straight to my supersensitive nose.

The General and I had a good exercise but I didn't go on the attack, I just blocked his blows as I usually did when sparring. He was good, I'll give him that. Our audience seemed disappointed, though.

"You think she's going to upstage the General?" Solis barked at them when they started grumbling. That got everybody's attention, and they turned back to their bladework.

"Here, you're holding that wrong," I went to correct a young man, who was struggling with his opponent. This one was around nineteen; I'd gotten his age from his scent. I placed his hand in the correct position. "And there's no shame in holding it with both hands, if it'll save your life," I told him. "If it came down to holding it with both hands or losing my life, I think I'd hold it with both hands. If your wrist gets whacked, let the other hand help out." He was nodding at me, his eyes wide. I watched him clack his wooden blade against his opponent's, who was more experienced, I could tell.

"Parry with the flat of your blade," I added after a while. "If you nick your blade, it could break, or at least cause you problems getting a good edge back on it," I suggested. He nodded and whacked away, conscious now of using the flat as opposed to the edge.

"Let's clean up before dinner," the General pulled me away. I nodded and went with him.

Chapter 5

"Do you remember when you offered to sneak into the enemy camp and do some spying?" I listened as the general washed himself in a bucket of water a Regular had brought to the tent. I nodded. I'd get my own bucket, as soon as the General was done.

"I'd like for you to do some spying tonight, after everyone else is bedded down. Head for the trenches first and then sneak into their camp from there, if you can. Just remember, I'll punish you myself if you get caught."

"I understand, sir," I nodded.

Using a bucket to wash and cold water to do it isn't the best way to take a bath, but it could have been worse. I had soap tucked inside my duffle, and I managed to get my hair clean, combed out and braided before we went off to dinner. Meals were a definite improvement with the new crew in the cooking tents. The High Commander came over to our table, too, and ate with the General while pointedly ignoring me. That was fine; I thought he was a shithead anyway, and I'd killed his star mercenary. He could be grumpy if he wanted.

"How long until we reach the town?" he asked around a mouthful of food. Yeah, not only was he a shithead, he had bad manners, too.

"Two days; we lost time with the wet ground and the wagons getting stuck and moving slowly," the General answered. "We should have been there, or close, already."

"What will we find there?" The High Commander asked. I decided I was going to call him HC, for short.

"It is a large, bustling village, surrounded by farmland and herds," the General replied.

"No vineyards?"

"No, the soil isn't good for that," the General dipped into his bowl of stew.

"We need wine for a ceremony," the HC complained.

"They'll have some there, but I warn you, it may have been made by the enemy."

"I don’t care where it comes from, only that it's available," the HC grumbled. Well, he wasn't getting a star or a happy face on his homework today.

I waited until just after lights out to make my sojourn away from the tent, heading toward the trenches, just as I'd been told. They smelled awful. I took a quick turn around them, making sure nobody else was there to notice I didn't use them, and on the way back I slipped between Blade and Grip's tents, turning to mist in the process. It only took a few seconds to get to The Red Hand camp. I buzzed into the HC's tent while he was talking with two of his Captains.

"We'll find some excuse to hole up in that town until our messengers return with the Pelipu's directive on the matter," HC tapped a cylindrical case, which was nearly four inches in diameter and probably sixteen inches in length. "I know what my feelings are on the matter, but I won't act until I receive his orders."

"What about the others?" One of the Captains asked.

"The Pelipu will tell us what to do. Go to bed; we have an early ride in the morning."

The General was still up and waiting for me when I returned. I told him what I heard and saw. He seemed surprised that I'd seen the cylindrical case. "That's their holy writ—at least part of it," he sighed. "They'll make an excuse to stay in Windle until their messengers arrive. I can't say I like the sound of this, but what else can we do? Right now they hold the money purse and it will do us no good to go on without them."

I wanted to ask him what his true feelings were on all this, but I held off. There wasn't any reason why he should tell me anything of the sort.

"What sort of ceremony requires wine?" I asked instead. "I know little about this religion."

"They use wine in many, so there's no way to tell for sure," the General replied. "Go to bed, Liss. We have an early morning ahead of us."

Since I couldn't sleep anyway, I left my body behind and went to energy, traveling far away under twinkling stars. I slept easier, once I returned.

"We're still a good three weeks away, and it looks like rain again," Solis rode up next to the General the following morning, with Warn right behind him.