Best Served Cold

“Far shallower, your Excellency.” Eider nudged her horse up close to them, and gracefully inclined her head. “And who is this? The Butcher of Caprile! I thought you were but a thief, blackmailer, murderer of innocents and keen practiser of incest! Now it seems you are a soldier too.”

“Carlot dan Eider, such a surprise! I thought this was a battle but now it smells more like a brothel. Which is it?”

Eider raised one eyebrow at the massed regiments. “Judging by all the swords I’d guess… the former? But I suppose you’d be the expert. I saw you at Cardotti’s and I see you here, equally comfortable dressed as warrior or whore.”

“Strange how it goes, eh? I wear the whore’s clothes and you do the whore’s business.”

“Perhaps I should turn my hand to murdering children instead?”

“For pity’s sake, enough!” snapped Rogont. “Am I doomed to be always surrounded by women, showing off? Have the two of you not noticed I have a battle to lose? All I need now is for that vanishing devil Ishri to spring out of my horse’s arse and give me my death of shock to complete the trio! My Aunt Sefeline was the same, always trying to prove she had the biggest cock in the chamber! If all your purpose is to posture, the two of you can get that done behind the city walls and leave me out here to ponder my downfall alone.”

Eider bowed her head. “Your Excellency, I would hate to intrude. I am here merely to wish you the best of fortune.”

“Sure you wouldn’t care to fight?” snapped Monza at her.

“Oh, there are other ways of fighting than bloody in the mud, Murcatto.” She leaned from her saddle and hissed it. “You’ll see!”

“Your Excellency!” A shrill call, soon joined by others, a ripple of excitement spreading through the horsemen. One of Rogont’s officers was pointing over the river, towards the ridge on the far side of the valley. There was movement there against the pale sky. Monza nudged her horse towards it, sliding out a borrowed eyeglass and scanning across the ridge.

A scattering of horsemen came first. Outriders, officers and standard-bearers, banners held high, white flags carrying the black cross of Talins, the names of battles stitched along their edges in red and silver thread. It hardly helped that a good number of the victories she’d had a hand in herself. A wide column of men tramped into view behind them, marching steadily down the brown stripe of the Imperial road towards the lower ford, spears shouldered.

The foremost regiment stopped and began to spread out about a half-mile from the water. Other columns began to spill from the road, forming battle lines across the valley. There was nothing clever about the plan, as far as she could see.

But they had the numbers. They didn’t need to be clever.

“The Talinese have arrived,” murmured Rogont, pointlessly.

Orso’s army. Men she’d fought alongside this time last year, led to victory at Sweet Pines. Men Ganmark had led until Stolicus fell on him. Men Foscar was leading now. That eager young lad with the fluff moustache who’d laughed with Benna in the gardens of Fontezarmo. That eager young lad she’d sworn to kill. She chewed her lip as she moved the eyeglass across the dusty front ranks, more men and more flooding over the hill behind them.

“Regiments from Etrisani and Cesale on their right wing, some Baolish on their left.” Ragged-marching men in fur and heavy chain mail, savage fighters from the hills and the mountains in the far east of Styria.

“The great majority of Duke Orso’s regular troops. But where, oh where, are your comrades of the Thousand Swords?”

Monza nodded up towards Menzes Hill, a green lump speckled with olive groves above the upper ford. “I’d bet my life they’re there, behind the brow. Foscar will cross the lower ford in strength and give you no choice but to meet him head on. Once you’re committed, the Thousand Swords will cross the upper ford unopposed and take you in the flank.”

“Very likely. What would be your advice?”

“You should’ve turned up to Sweet Pines on time. Or Musselia. Or the High Bank.”

“Alas, I was late for those battles then. I am extremely late for them now.”

“You should have attacked long before this. Taken a gamble as they marched down the Imperial road from Puranti.” Monza frowned at the valley, the great number of soldiers on both sides of the river. “You have the smaller force.”

“But the better position.”

“To get it you gave up the initiative. Lost your chance at surprise. Trapped yourself. The general with the smallest numbers is well advised to stay always on the offensive.”

“Stolicus, is it? I never had you down for book learning.”

“I know my business, Rogont, books and all.”

“My epic thanks to you and your friend Stolicus for explaining my failures. Perhaps one of you might furnish an opinion on how I might now achieve success?”