Maker of Fire

Camp of the Legions, Growing Season, 6th rot., night of the 7th day

“How many of them are there?” Marshal Lowawathas demanded, as she leapt out of bed. She grabbed a tunic and trews and started to put them on over her nightgown. She didn’t want to waste time dressing.

“Twenty thousand Chem,” said Captain Sakabean. “They have surrounded the camp, five thousand to a side. They know we know they are here; however, they are currently doing nothing other than surrounding us. They do not appear to be carrying convention weapons other than their huge bows and spear arrows. Their other equipment is strange.”

“How so?” the Marshal asked as she pulled on her stockings and boots.

“They have nets full of small white globes,” Sakabean replied. “These are probably the bombs they used on the ships at Toyatastagka.”

“They are not a threat now that we know about them,” Lowawathas remarked. “Anything thrown will not get through our barrier magic.”

“They also have hollow black metal tubes,” Sakabean. “We don’t know what those are for. In addition, they have small cylinders made of brass or bronze. We’re not sure what those are either.”

“Dammit, we need better intelligence,” the Marshal snarled, feeling frustrated. “Is my eagle saddled? I want to see for myself. And how did they manage to surround the camp without our noticing?”

“The sentries and the scouts do not know how they escaped our notice.”

“I don’t like it. We’re reacting to them and not taking the offensive to them. Let’s go.” The Marshal stuffed her braid into her flying cap and stormed out of her sleeping cabin.

A few moments later, she and Sakabean landed at the south gate into the camp. The cohort leader currently on duty came running as she landed and snapped her a neat salute.

“At ease, soldier,” Lowawathas said as her feet hit the ground. “Where is the enemy?”

“Approximately 500 hands past the moat, Ma’am.”

“Are they trying to hide?”

“Not at all, Ma’am. They appear to be waiting. They aren’t formed up in lines at all. They are in clumps around their metal tube things. I think there are about 100 groups clustered around 100 tubes. I assume the other walls are looking at a similar arrangement, though that is conjecture on my part.”

“You are correct in your assumption, Cohort Leader,” Lowawathas replied in approval. “Let me look,” she took her crystal from where it hung around her neck and tranced. She sent her far vision forward past the moat until she saw the lizard people.

Chem of all colors stood in groups around small black tubes. The tubes were made of some substance she did not recognize. Each one was around five hands long and maybe a half a hand in diameter. About half the Chem had bows and were lying in front of the tubes, facing the camp. Their spear arrows were already knocked.

The Marshal was confused. The Chem with the bows were in a defensive posture. How would they attack if they were set up to defend their position with such inadequate numbers. The Legions outnumbered the Chem with ten times their numbers. What were these creatures thinking? Did they have some strategy that made them confident enough to face more than a quarter million Legionnaires?

Marshal Lowawathas received the answer to that question a few moments later when the ground began to shake. Screams of men and women reached her ears from the insides of the camp.

High above the camp, Tom and Twee looked down on pandemonium inside the Legion Camp as a thousand Chem shamans created mud boils that liquefied the ground, swallowing tents, soldiers, and stores. Tom found the scene below satisfying and horrific as tens of thousands Cosm soldiers sleeping in their tents died, sinking into a slurry of mud. When the barrier failed, the Chem troops began a barrage of mortar shells and clay bombs. They targeted the parts of the camp that were elevated and safe from the liquefaction of the water saturated soils on the flood plain of the river.

An effective resistance formed at the south gate. Tom and Twee did not know it was organized by Lowawathas gathering the survivors. She commanded them through mindcasting, cutting through the confusion created by the water magic of the Chem. The Marshal of the Empire led her Legionnaires personally on foot after her eagle was killed by a spear arrow. Almost sixty thousand Legionnaires escaped, smashing through the southern line of Chem by brute force and decimating a tenth of the Chem forces. Over two hundred thousand Mattamesscontan troops died in the attack.

Emily, Shinakosettkut, Growing Season, 6th rot., 8th day

One of the things that I discovered on the trip back to Sussbesschem was the power of ideas. The first powerful idea that smote my attention was the shower. To be frank, what actually smote my attention was Uncohegan’s consternation over my taking a shower on my ketch as we sailed down to Shinakosettkut. As soon as we anchored and I went ashore, Uncohegan bore down on me at the docks, eyes wide and nostrils flared.

“What were you doing on your ship, Beloved?” Uncohegan scooped me up and sat me on a dock piling, with enough distance that no one would be able to overhear.

“Was I doing something strange, Uncohegan?” I had no clue what she was talking about.

“Beloved,” her frown was intense, “you took off your clothes and stood under a bladder that poured water on you. You were naked. I and several others saw you.”

Oh dear. I could see where this was going.

“Uncohegan, I made sure my ketch was at a distance when I took my shower. How could you have seen that in any detail?”

Uncohegan heaved a great exasperated sigh, “Clairvoyance. I didn’t recognize what was happening on your boat when your crew hoisted the bladder on the main mast halyard, so I looked closer with magic. When I made a noise at what I saw, others with clairvoyance also looked. Oh my,” she paused and then gave me a pitying smile. “That’s an amazing shade of red despite your tan.”

“I had my crew sail at a distance so I would have some privacy while I washed, Uncohegan.” So much for privacy around magic users. Snooping is one of the least desirable character defects of mages, and they all do it, too.

“Washing? Was that what you were doing? What’s wrong with a bucket and scrubber cloth filled with soap wort while at sea? That’s what we all do. Besides, there are baths waiting on shore.”

“Why wait forever for a bath on shore, Uncohegan, when I can rig a shower on my own boat? Tom’s got his own shower, too, on his ketch.”

“That’s the second time you’ve used the word shower, Beloved,” Uncohegan pointed out. “I do not think you mean rain when you use that word.”

“A shower is where you send water through a nozzle with a lot of little holes in it, so it’s like standing out in the rain,” I explained. “You can get really clean faster than a bath while using less water. It feels great, too. I had no idea there were nosy mages snooping.” I tried to sound stern, which I’m sure didn’t work on big, matronly Uncohegan. It was hard to be taken seriously when I looked like a teenager and spoke with a piping soprano voice.

“But you were without clothes in front of the Chem on your boat, Beloved,” Uncohegan replied.

“The Chem have sex in public and don’t wear clothes. They think that Cosm and Coyn clothing in this wonderful warm weather is nonsensical,” I explained. “They are too polite to say anything about it to people they don’t know well.”

“Oh,” Uncohegan said, looking startled. She had never considered that a different race might have a divergent opinion about clothing and standards of decency. “I believe I owe you an apology for having peeked while you were washing,” her frown got deeper. “But doesn’t washing in salt water leave you feeling, well, salt-sticky? Especially in the hair?”

“The watertight bag that you’re calling a bladder has fresh water in it,” I said.

“Is that wise?” Uncohegan looked startled again. “That’s your boat’s drinking water. It’s too important to use for anything else.”

“Every Chem ship has two or more stills, Uncohegan,” I replied, shrugging. “That way we never run out of fresh water. The Chem can heat the water with their water magic so making a batch of fresh water is quick and easy.”

Uncohegan just looked at me with a strange expression, like she didn’t understand what I was saying. It turned out that she really didn’t understand.

“What do you mean by a still, Beloved?” she asked.

It was my turn to be startled. “You don’t have stills here? We have stills in Foskos.” I was probably making a fish face.

“Are you calling a steam extractor a still? Those are for making oils from plants, Beloved,” Uncohegan stated, frowning even deeper.

“Oh, Surd save us,” I shook my head. “A still can be used to do that, but you can also use stills to make stronger booze, and to make fresh water from salt water, Uncohegan.”

“They what!?”

If we became any more gobsmacked, the dock might have collapsed.

I spent the next bell sitting on that piling teaching Uncohegan how to use a still to make fresh water and hard liquor. Anyone who could use charms of warmth could power a still with not much effort. After all, it was logical extension of boiling off seawater to collect salt.

After I finished the lesson on dissolved salts in water solutions, I moved on to how to make a shower nozzle and a barrel valve to control the water flow. I also suggested how to rig up a circular shower curtain that could be used on a boat for privacy around nosy mages.

When I was done, Uncohegan demonstrated the power of ideas. She remarked, “One could install the pipes and drain for this shower thing inside houses, too. Wouldn’t that be something?”

I had to refrain from laughing. “Uncohegan, they already do that in Foskos. They also have sinks with running water just from opening a valve. They even have toilets that wash the wastes away with water. The kingdom installed a drainage system to collect the waste from flushing toilets in all the major Foskan cities. No one needs spoot slaves or necessaries anymore. Most people in Foskan cities now have toilets.”

“Beloved, I believe I want to visit Foskos to see these wonders for myself. How hard is it to make these things?”

I saw the greed for modern plumbing growing in Uncohegan’s eyes and felt quite satisfied with myself.

The other powerful idea that was spreading in Mattamesscontess was fore-and-aft rigging. At least four fishing boats in the Shinakosettkut harbor had variations on lug rigs and sprit sails, and one other had a true gaff-and-boom sail. I overheard a lot of fishing crews talking about how the change in rigging made it possible to sail closer into the wind. At this rate, the Chem advantage in superior sailing maneuverability would vanish in no time at all. Maybe Vassu intended this to happen so the technology would advance.

I had to wonder how long it would take for the sailors of Erdos to build ships with full ribbed construction and the deep keels needed to safely heel over while sailing upwind. It would probably happen in my lifetime, I had no doubt.

General Bobbo haup Pinisla, Shinakosettkut, Growing Season, 6th rot., night of the 9th day

Bobbo marched twenty thousand Foskan soldiers northwest up the forested valley of the Gilgad River to the west of the trade road along Ahkeseld River. When his attack force reached the plains, it turned northeast along the foothills of the Ashaminga Mountains. The troops crossed the Ahkeseld River at the Foskan garrison he had set up where the road to Hoydee branched off the Great Trade Road. Instead of taking any road, Bobbo led his soldiers east into the mountains, along a route through narrow valleys and high passes. The route was only passable because it was the warmest time of the year. Usruldes’ wraiths had mapped it only three rotations ago.

After three grueling days of marching more than thirty wagon-days through rough, uninhabited terrain, Bobbo’s troops set up a cold, silent camp on the eastern toe of a mountain whose southwestern side faced Kipgapshegar. Now he would rest his force before preparing the attack to begin before daybreak on the first day of the seventh rotation.

Bobbo unrolled his oil cloth tarp and bedroll at the foot of a giant birch, slid his back down the trunk to plant his butt on the ground, and sprawled backward, exhausted. He would not allow himself to groan in front of his soldiers but he was spent. He thought he was in good enough shape but given his painful and trembling muscles, he realized he wasn’t as fit as he should be. He wasn’t the physical specimen he once was. Before the attack on Pinisla last year, he could beat Imstay King in a fair fight. Now he doubted if he could hold his own against a Coyn.

Before his injuries, his conceit was to fetch his own food and do his own clean-up, just like his soldiers. It kept the silverhairs from getting too pompous with the nohairs when every combatant carried his or her own rations, including the General of the Southern Army. But tonight, Bobbo found his situation had changed. Though he was hungry, he was too fatigued to dig into his pack for his ration. He decided to take a brief rest before getting his load of bread.

He was thankful that his soldiers took care of themselves without direction from him. When setting up camp or on a march, they functioned like the well-ordered force he had trained them to be. They knew what to do and how to do it without being ordered. Any aberrations would be dealt with by his legates and squad leaders. He could safely close his eyes and rest briefly before the evening meeting with his staff.

He was dozing when a melodious bass began speaking with a tenor only a few hands away.

“You were right to show me this, Lord Fusso,” the bass said. “I am glad the attack force is resting tomorrow because this man needs it. His dinner ration is still in his pack, by the way. I suggest we force him to eat if he can stomach it. If he can’t, then I might need to apply some healing magic.”

“Frankly, Lord Usruldes, I am concerned about General Bobbo,” the fifty-something Lord Fusso responded. “He may be back on his feet but he is not his old self physically, at least not yet. I was tempted several times today to delegate some of the younger silverhairs to carry him or take his load. I wish I had the power of the Grace of Mugash to enforce such measures upon him. I understand why he insists on marching on the same terms as his soldiers, but he’s more than twice as old as most of them and he’s still recovering his strength after last year’s injuries. His men would understand if he applied a little leniency upon himself.”

Bobbo kept his eyes closed as he eavesdropped. The presence of Usruldes the Wraith in his camp was both good and bad. It was good because it meant the other half of the attack plan was in place. It was bad because Usruldes had the power to make him behave.

As that thought came and went, he realized that he was not behaving in a prudent manner. Maybe he should allow his staff to take some of his physical burdens from him. He was no longer young and he was recovering from injuries that should have left him comatose.

“I overheard that thought, General,” Usruldes said as he sat on the ground next to Bobbo. “I know you are a wise man. I anticipate that you will now follow our advice. You need to allow us to help you.”

Bobbo opened his eyes and studied the grey eyes of Foskan royal blood peering out from Usruldes’ face mask and hooded mantle. He wondered briefly if Fusso knew Usruldes’ true identity.

“I will permit it if my troops know that I do so under duress,” Bobbo said, sitting up. Every muscle complained.

“Where are your healers?” Usruldes asked.

“We left them at the garrison at the Trade Road junction with the Hoydee Road,” Fusso said. “This battlefield is too dangerous for them until the walls are breached or the city surrenders.” Fusso sat down and opened Bobbo’s pack. He fished out a square of beef-based pemmican and a pouch of nuts with dried berries. He added Bobbo’s water flask and then handed all three to Bobbo. “You need to eat and hydrate yourself, boss.”

“Yes, mother,” Bobbo tried not to sound grumpy. He liked Fusso. He did not want to insult the old aristocrat, especially one as open-minded as Fusso.

“Don’t make me put you on a mule for the next two days,” Fusso threatened the younger, smaller Bobbo. Fusso was a silverhair who could back up his threats with shrine-trained magic. “I believe we should hold this evening’s staff meeting right here, General. Make the youngsters come to you for a change.”

“Yes, mother,” Bobbo groused. “Whatever you say, mother. Wake me up when they get here, mother.”

Bobbo grabbed the pouch for nuts and berries in one hand and the pemmican in the other, intending to eat. He closed his eyes and fell back asleep without realizing it.

*Lord Bobbo? Can you wake up?* A woman’s voice reverberated inside Bobbo’s head.

“Gaaaaaaaah!” Bobbo sat straight up, startled by the voice.

*My apologies, Lord Bobbo. I did not mean to startle you,* the voice radiated a soundless sigh. *This is Aylem Queen, Lord Bobbo. I heard of your desire for sulfur. Tomorrow, you will receive 40,000 stone of sulfur from Kas. Two hundred eagles from the Blue Mountains will deliver it tomorrow afternoon.*

“General, what is wrong?” Fusso came running toward Bobbo’s tree and bedroll.

Bobbo held up a hand, “I’m mindcasting with the Queen, Fusso. Great One, please. I have a request. We have a secret watch post a wagon-day upstream from the garrison fort at the junction of the Trade Road and the Hoydee Highway. Can I have the eagles meet us there? I want to bring in my supplies using charms of circular light.”

*I will instruct Gwilekos haup Rigdit. She is the eagles’ guide for this trip. How can she find the watch post?*

“Can I refer you to Lord Usruldes for that question, Great One? He is here in my camp and it is his people who will be providing the charms of circular light. But Gwilekos haup Rigdit? She’s still around?”

*With Usruldes shadowing Imstay King, and Snow Bear shadowing you, she’s been helping to manage wraith services for the regents’ council. Besides, she’s never really retired. If Usruldes is there, I will speak with him directly. Expect your additional sulfur tomorrow afternoon.*

“Excellent, I thank you, Great One,” Bobbo exhaled and fell back over. “Huh,” Bobbo addressed the sky through the branches of the giant birch, “This just might work.” He began to laugh. “Yes, this just might work!”