Cursors's Fury

And so, in the next five minutes Tavi faced Nasaug across a traveling ludus set, a case whose legs unfolded to support it as a small, portable table. Plain discs of stone were carved on one side with piece designations, rather than being the full miniature statuettes of a conventional board. Tavi and Nasaug began playing, while eighty Canim, armored but unarmed, trooped forward, digging through the carnage at the base of the walls to locate the black-armored corpses of their fallen brothers in arms. None of them passed within a twenty-foot circle of the two commanders.

Tavi watched the Cane as the game began, and he opened with what seemed to be a reckless attack.

Nasaug, for his part, narrowed his eyes in thought as the game progressed. “Nothing wrong with your courage,” he said, several moves in. “But it does not secure a victory alone.”

A few moves later, Tavi replied, “Your defense isn’t as strong as it might be. Pushing it hard enough might shatter it.”

Nasaug began to move in earnest then, exchanging the first few pieces, while more moved into position, gathering for the cascade of exchanges that would follow. Tavi lost a piece to the Cane, then another, as his attack began to slow.

Footsteps suddenly approached, and a Cane in the accoutrements of one of Sari’s acolytes stalked up to them. He bared his teeth at Tavi, then turned to Nasaug and snarled, “Hrrrshk naghr lak trrrng kasrrrash.”

Tavi understood it: You were ordered to attack. Why have you not done so?

Nasaug did not respond.

The acolyte snarled and stepped up to Nasaug, put a hand on the Battle-master’s shoulder, and began to repeat the question.

Nasaug turned his head to one side, jaws flashing, and in a single, vicious snap tore the hand from the end of the acolyte’s arm, following it with a vicious kick that sent the other Cane sprawling, screaming in pain.

Nasaug reached up and took the acolyte’s severed hand from his mouth and idly threw it at him without looking up from the board. “Do not interrupt your betters,” he growled, also in Canish. Tavi could make out most of it. “You may tell Sari that had he wished an immediate attack, he should have given me time to recover my fallen from the Alerans. Tell him that I will attack when and where it suits me.” The Battlemaster glanced at the acolyte, and snarled, “Move. Before you bleed to death.”

The wounded Cane clutched the bleeding stump of his arm to his belly and retreated, making high-pitched whimpering noises in his throat.

“Apologies,” Nasaug then said to Tavi. “For the distraction.”

“No offense was given,” Tavi replied, his tone thoughtful. “You have little love for the ritualists.”

“Your eyes can see the sun at midday, Captain,” Nasaug replied. He studied the board a moment later, and said, “Your strategy was sound. You know much of us.”

“Some,” Tavi replied.

“It took courage and intelligence to attempt it. For this, you have earned respect.” Nasaug looked up at Tavi for the first time since the game began. “But however much I may despise Sari and those like him, my duty is clear. Sari and his ritualists are few, but they have the faith of the maker caste.” He tilted an ear in a vague gesture at the enormous number of raiders. “They may be fools to believe in the ritualists, but I will not turn upon the makers or desert them. I have studied your forces. You cannot stop us.”

“Perhaps,” Tavi said. “Perhaps not.”

Nasaug bared his teeth again. “Your men are half-trained. Your officers were slain, your Knights far weaker than they should be. There is little help to be had from the Alerans of the city.” He pushed a ludus Lord forward, beginning his own attack. “You have not seen our caste in battle, but for the probe this morning. You will not repulse us again, Aleran. Before tomorrow’s sunset, it will be over.”

Tavi frowned. Nasaug wasn’t posturing. There was neither threat nor anger nor enjoyment in the tone of his voice. He was simply stating a fact, attaching no emotion to it, no menace. It was far more disturbing than anything else he could have said.

But Nasaug was a warrior Cane. If he was anything like Varg, his words were like blood-never loosed unless necessary. And then as little as possible. “I wonder why you bother to speak of it.”

“To offer you an alternative. Retreat and leave the bridge sound. Take your warriors, your people, your young. I will give you two days to travel, in which I will make sure no forces are sent after you.”

Tavi regarded the board for a silent moment and altered the position of a single piece. “Generous. Why offer it?”

“I do not say we will destroy you without loss, Captain. It will save lives of my warriors and your own.”

“Until we fight again another day?”

“Yes.”

Tavi shook his head. “I cannot give you the bridge. It is my duty to hold it or destroy it.”