Princeps’ Fury

After a stilted pause, Lararl spoke, biting off the words savagely. “My forces are stationed at the entry points to the range. The Vord tunneled under them. A large force is now among the estates and markets of the makers. Killing.”

Varg rumbled, a sound of unmistakable hatred.

“More of them pour in by the hour,” Lararl continued. “It will not be long before we are outnumbered in the rear areas as well as at the fortifications. Then…” He spread his hands and closed them together, as if squeezing the juice from a fruit.

“You need our help,” Tavi said quietly.

“Help?” Lararl said. An almost-hysterical edge of frustration entered his voice. “Help? What could you do?” He drew his sword and jabbed it at the horde spreading over the plains below. “What could anyone do against that? We will fight. But there can be no victory. This is the end.”

“That depends upon your definition of victory, Warmaster,” Tavi said quietly.

“Shuar cannot be held,” Lararl snarled.

“Is Shuar the land?” Tavi asked. “Is it the hills and stones and trees? Is Shuar the rivers, the walls, the towers?”

Lararl had turned to stare at Tavi intently.

“Or is it the people?” Tavi said quietly. “Your people, Warmaster.”

Lararl’s ears shivered in reaction, a portion of Canim body language Tavi had never seen.

“What,” Lararl growled, “do you mean?”

“It’s possible that your people could be saved, sir. Some of them, in any case.”

“How?”

Tavi spread his hands. “I’m not yet sure,” he said. “I need more information.”

“What information?”

“Everything you have regarding the war with the Vord, in every range. All of it.”

Varg was also staring hard at Tavi. “What do you expect to learn?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“For what reason?” Varg demanded.

“Because among the enemy is at least one queen. The Vord queens are able to sense the thoughts of others if they can get close enough. Your Hunters have proven that it is possible to approach closely to Lararl’s command by means of stealth. It is entirely possible, even likely, that the queens have been gathering information directly from the thoughts of the Shuaran officers-possibly even from your own thoughts, Warmaster Lararl.”

Lararl growled in his throat, the sound pensive. “You know this enemy.”

“I would not presume to say that,” Tavi said. “But I know them better than you. And, for now, whatever secrets your intelligence on them might reveal is best kept safe by being locked in one location.” He tapped his temple with one finger. “I believe that it may be possible to help you and your people, Warmaster. If you will extend me a measure of trust.”

Lararl stared steadily at Tavi, but remained silent.

“It is obvious that simple force of arms is insufficient. We must outthink them, outmaneuver them.” Tavi glanced at Varg and inclined his head slightly to one side. “As I did to Sarl in Alera.”

Lararl’s gaze moved to Varg. “Well?”

Varg nodded slowly to Tavi, the Aleran gesture peculiar on the Cane. “Lararl. You have said yourself that you have no way to defeat the foe. Were this range mine and these people my own, I would listen to him.” He looked over at his Shuaran counterpart. “Tavar took a force of barely more than seven thousand and fought Sarl and fifty thousand conscripts, plus Nasaug’s ten thousand warriors, to a two-year stalemate. Give him what he wants.”

Lararl was silent for a moment more. Trumpets blew in the city, and a mounted force of several hundred Canim warriors rode their taurga toward the eastern gates of the city-an advance party for the larger infantry force that had to be preparing to march to the Shuaran interior.

The golden Cane shuddered again. Then he flicked his ears in a sharp gesture of assent, spun to face Tavi fully, and beckoned him with a curt gesture of his hand as he strode toward the door leading back into the tower. “Demon-” He paused and growled deep in his chest, baring his fangs. “Tavar. Come with me.”

“Crows,” Max breathed under his breath. The big Antillan took his hand from his sword. “How did you know about the Vord?”

“I guessed.”

“You guessed?” Max hissed. He shook his head. “You take too many chances, Calderon.”

“It was necessary,” Tavi said. “Besides, I was right.”

“One of these days, you’re going to be wrong.”

“Not today,” Tavi said. “Stay here so that Crassus can make contact.”

Max frowned at Tavi worriedly. Then he saluted. “Be careful.”

Tavi put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Then he turned and strode down into the darkness of the tower, following Lararl.

CHAPTER 25

Tavi wasn’t sure how long he’d been working in Lararl’s cavernous hall when the door opened and a guard, his eyes narrowed against the relative brightness of the torches Tavi had requested, admitted Kitai.