to assemble in the West Gate Square as soon as possible.”
Kallista nodded stiffly. “Tell the general I’ll be there. I am unharmed. My troop—” She took a deep breath. “I believe the rest of my troop is dead.”
The soldier nodded back, trying to stare at all the bodies surrounding her without appearing to do so. “Thank you, Captain.”
She hoped to put in an appearance at the assembly point and be dismissed to go check on her naitani in the tower. There was a chance, albeit a very faint one, that they yet lived. But the general spotted her quickly and gestured her to approach.
It had been a vain hope anyway, Kallista thought as she worked her way through the forming ranks. The blue and black she and Torchay wore made them stand out in the sea of dun-brown infantry tunics like flowers in a field of dead grass.
General Huyis Uskenda was in the midst of taking reports and giving orders when Kallista reached her side, and she didn’t stop. Kallista edged closer, hoping to hear something of the battle as a whole.
“They’re all dead,” the captain of the lone troop of cavalry was saying, her white rank ribbons lying limp and blood-spattered against the shoulders of her gray uniform. “Every Tibran in the city. They hadn’t penetrated as far as the Mother Temple, so I didn’t have to ride the whole city.
“They’re all dead on the plain too, at least what my troopers and I could see on a quick patrol. There may be survivors near the camp. We didn’t ride that close because I know for certain there are survivors in the camp. They took potshots at us from the tents with those hand cannon of theirs.”
“Good, good.” Uskenda nodded, the layered red ribbons of rank on her brown tunic so thick they looked like fringe.
Uskenda was better than the usual run of general, her mind sharp enough to adapt to freakish enemy tactics without panicking and still young enough to walk farther than from her bed to the dinner table. Promotion in the Adaran army was based on seniority. Those who lived long enough to achieve a general’s rank tended to cling to it until they died at their posts, whether they could still do the job or not.
This explained why Kallista was merely a captain at her age of thirty-four years, though promotion did tend to be a bit quicker among the naitani. She shuddered to think of some of the generals she’d served under who might have been assigned to defend this city. Uskenda was indeed a godsend in comparison.
“What about Adarans?” The general turned to an aide, a young man attached to her staff. “Did that…whatever it was…slaughter our people as well as the Tibrans?”
“No, General.” He referred to his notes on the scraps of paper in his hand. “We sent out patrols immediately after—”
“I know that. Don’t tell me what I already know. Are our people dead?”
“ No , General,” he repeated. “The citizens within the range of the…weapon…for the most part seem to have taken no harm, according to those patrols. The first Adarans we’ve found dead so far have all been known criminals. Thieves. Extortionists. That sort of thing.”
Kallista leaned unobtrusively on her bodyguard as her knees threatened to buckle in relief. When Torchay had survived the dark magic, she’d begun to hope, but had been afraid to trust it.
General Uskenda nodded and turned her piercing gray glare on Kallista. “Well, Captain? What exactly did happen? What sort of—” she eyed the blue of Kallista’s tunic “—of North magic was that?”
“I…can’t say.” Not because it was a naitani secret, but because she didn’t know. However, generals—most of those she’d known—preferred secrets to ignorance.
The general snorted. “Never knew any North magic to behave like that.”
“No, General.” Not one of the naitani in the North Academy when Kallista was attending had shown any magic resembling what she had just done. No instructor had ever mentioned the
Kallista nodded stiffly. “Tell the general I’ll be there. I am unharmed. My troop—” She took a deep breath. “I believe the rest of my troop is dead.”
The soldier nodded back, trying to stare at all the bodies surrounding her without appearing to do so. “Thank you, Captain.”
She hoped to put in an appearance at the assembly point and be dismissed to go check on her naitani in the tower. There was a chance, albeit a very faint one, that they yet lived. But the general spotted her quickly and gestured her to approach.
It had been a vain hope anyway, Kallista thought as she worked her way through the forming ranks. The blue and black she and Torchay wore made them stand out in the sea of dun-brown infantry tunics like flowers in a field of dead grass.
General Huyis Uskenda was in the midst of taking reports and giving orders when Kallista reached her side, and she didn’t stop. Kallista edged closer, hoping to hear something of the battle as a whole.
“They’re all dead,” the captain of the lone troop of cavalry was saying, her white rank ribbons lying limp and blood-spattered against the shoulders of her gray uniform. “Every Tibran in the city. They hadn’t penetrated as far as the Mother Temple, so I didn’t have to ride the whole city.
“They’re all dead on the plain too, at least what my troopers and I could see on a quick patrol. There may be survivors near the camp. We didn’t ride that close because I know for certain there are survivors in the camp. They took potshots at us from the tents with those hand cannon of theirs.”
“Good, good.” Uskenda nodded, the layered red ribbons of rank on her brown tunic so thick they looked like fringe.
Uskenda was better than the usual run of general, her mind sharp enough to adapt to freakish enemy tactics without panicking and still young enough to walk farther than from her bed to the dinner table. Promotion in the Adaran army was based on seniority. Those who lived long enough to achieve a general’s rank tended to cling to it until they died at their posts, whether they could still do the job or not.
This explained why Kallista was merely a captain at her age of thirty-four years, though promotion did tend to be a bit quicker among the naitani. She shuddered to think of some of the generals she’d served under who might have been assigned to defend this city. Uskenda was indeed a godsend in comparison.
“What about Adarans?” The general turned to an aide, a young man attached to her staff. “Did that…whatever it was…slaughter our people as well as the Tibrans?”
“No, General.” He referred to his notes on the scraps of paper in his hand. “We sent out patrols immediately after—”
“I know that. Don’t tell me what I already know. Are our people dead?”
“ No , General,” he repeated. “The citizens within the range of the…weapon…for the most part seem to have taken no harm, according to those patrols. The first Adarans we’ve found dead so far have all been known criminals. Thieves. Extortionists. That sort of thing.”
Kallista leaned unobtrusively on her bodyguard as her knees threatened to buckle in relief. When Torchay had survived the dark magic, she’d begun to hope, but had been afraid to trust it.
General Uskenda nodded and turned her piercing gray glare on Kallista. “Well, Captain? What exactly did happen? What sort of—” she eyed the blue of Kallista’s tunic “—of North magic was that?”
“I…can’t say.” Not because it was a naitani secret, but because she didn’t know. However, generals—most of those she’d known—preferred secrets to ignorance.
The general snorted. “Never knew any North magic to behave like that.”
“No, General.” Not one of the naitani in the North Academy when Kallista was attending had shown any magic resembling what she had just done. No instructor had ever mentioned the
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