Kingslayer by Honor Raconteur Page B

takes wagons with a special springboard?”
    Her smile became wry. “Indeed I am. I often hear merchants requesting a highway built northward for that very reason.”
    “Be glad you didn’t do it,” he responded with matching wryness. “It just saved you from being conquered that much faster. I propose that we destroy the wagon train that is sending supplies here, to Brindisi’s troops, and also destroy the companies making those wagons.”
    She blinked. “Isn’t that difficult? How many companies are we speaking of?”
    “Only two, actually. Because there’re not enough demand for that many specially made wagons. In fact, the only people that really need them in this area are the ones that pass through those mountains.”
    “Hmmm.” She lifted a hand thoughtfully to her chin. “So, in fact, it would be very easy to do.”
    He pointed to the three springs residing near the mountain’s base. “I’d also like to dam up the mountain water that feeds these springs. With limited food, and no water, the troops will become easy targets.”
    She gave him a complicated smile, half-sympathetic and half-perturbed. “That is a rather ruthless tactic in this desert land.”
    “Less bloodshed,” he pointed out calmly. “We need every day that we can steal. The two missions I just spoke of can be handled by a small, elite force. While they are working, I need to train your soldiers more. Half the reason they’re failing is a simple lack of stamina. After two or three hours on a battlefield, they start to flag. They need to fight for at least eight hours in order to stand a chance.”
    “In this heat?!” she objected while pointing at the sun blazing through the open window.
    “Even then,” he answered firmly. “Granted, I will avoid that whenever possible. But even then, they must be able to fight.”
    A disbelieving laugh tumbled from her lips. “My generals always claimed that the men under you were monsters, like tireless demons. I think I see why, now. Very well, General, bring them up to pace. What else?”
    “A few innovations with the shield designs,” he added while rubbing at his chin. He sat back on his haunches a moment, hand flat against the map. “As it stands now, the men can lock their shields together for protection, but the opposite side will do the same, and then they get into these useless shoving matches. I’ve seen one battle where that’s all they did, all day, just shove at each other with their shields. All it did was sap the men’s strength without winning them any ground.”
    “I’ve been told of this. If you can think of a way to avoid it, do so,” she commanded. “Now, you spoke of armaments that need to be built?”
    He sat back up on his knees to point at the map. “Along this mountain pass. Built correctly, a minimal force can hold off an army for an unbelievable amount of time.” Ruefully he added, “I used to have nightmares that one of your generals would figure this out.”
    She rubbed at her forehead. “It worries me that none of them did.”
    Yes, me too. Shaking his head, he continued, “But these defenses are not effective until they are all built. And that will take at least three months of solid effort. In reality, they are something I want to keep out further invaders. The first task I really need done are wooden barriers built here,” his finger trailed along the plains on the map, “so that we can control how many troops can come at us.”
    “Wood?” she questioned in bafflement. “Wouldn’t stone be better?”
    He met her eyes unflinchingly. “Wood burns.”
    Her eyes widened in understanding. “No man would go too near a fire. But stone they would try to scale, is that it?”
    “Yes.”
    She leaned forward in her chair to study the map more intently. “So first you want to take away their supplies, then their water source, and make them desperate enough to where they have to enter the city just to survive. Then with them in that irrational