Princeps’ Fury

“There must also be one with the flanking force in our rear,” Lararl said. He looked at Tavi. “Could a single queen control the entire horde before my walls?”

Tavi spread his hands. “Evidence suggests that she could-but that her ability to control it does indeed have a limited range-somewhere under twenty miles, perhaps even less.”

Lararl nodded. “Then we must kill these queens.”

“And do what?” Tavi asked him, in a calm voice. “Kill millions more of the Vord in less than three weeks? Because that’s how long it would take the original queen to produce a new daughter, if the battles in Maraul were any indication.”

Lararl drummed his claws on the stone edge of the sand table. It was a peculiar sound, an almost insectile series of clicks, and Tavi suppressed a shiver.

“What would you have us do, then?” Lararl asked.

“Run,” Tavi said simply. “Get as many of your people away from the Vord as you can.”

“And go where? All of Canea is overrun.”

“To Alera,” Tavi said calmly.

Lararl let out a barking cough, a bitter sound. “You would have my folk abandon their home to become slaves in the demon lands?”

“I’ve got enough problems relating to slavery already,” Tavi replied drily. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I would have your people and Varg’s stand with us against the Vord.”

The room became deadly silent.

“They aren’t going to stop with Canea,” Tavi said. The quiet words fell like lead weights, simple and heavy. “We must stand together-or die separately.”

The silence stretched.

Lararl turned his head to Varg.

The black-furred Cane stared at the sand table for a moment. Then he looked up at Lararl. “It would be an interesting fight, would it not?”

The golden-furred Cane turned his gaze to Tavi, his eyes narrowed. “He is truly gadara to you?”

Varg flicked his ears in assent. “We have shed blood together and exchanged blades.”

Lararl’s ears quivered upright in startled surprise.

“His word is good,” Varg said.

“And you must understand that we’re going to have to trust one another,” Tavi said. “Information has to be limited. If I’m wrong about the queens, or if there are other Vord who can see into minds, they could counter us easily. We’ve got to have the initiative, or none of us are going to live out the week.”

Varg and Lararl digested that for a quiet moment. Then Varg twitched his ears in consent.

“You have many ships,” Lararl said slowly. “But not enough for all of Shuar.”

“Let me worry about that.”

Lararl glanced at Varg, who flattened his ears in a gesture that was roughly the equivalent of an Aleran shrug. “Aleran sorcery is far more useful than that of the ritualists, in my experience. They do more than kill with it.”

Lararl grunted, then gestured at the sand map of Shuar. “If I divert enough warriors to crush the queen in our interior and safeguard my people, the Vord at the fortifications will surely overwhelm the defenses.”

“We aren’t going to send your warriors against the queen,” Tavi said.

Varg growled. “Your Legions and my forces do not have sufficient supplies to carry out such a campaign, Tavar.”

“We aren’t going to send them out to kill the queen, either,” Tavi said. “We’re going to do it ourselves.”

“Oh,” Kitai said abruptly, her eyes glittering with sudden understanding. “Interesting.”

“Ourselves?” Varg asked.

Tavi nodded. “My people here, and yours, together with any Hunters you can find, are going to hunt and kill the queen. Once that is done, and the Vord lose cohesion, all the civilians in Shuar”-Tavi turned to stare hard at Lararl-“every one of them,” he said with emphasis, “should have a fighting chance to reach the coast.”

Lararl returned Tavi’s stare. Then he tilted his head fractionally to one side. “Yes. All of them.”

Varg looked back and forth between the other two, and growled thoughtfully. “The queen is in the midst of her horde, Tavar. She will be difficult to reach.”

“Let me worry about that, too,” Tavi said.

Lararl let out a brief, exasperated growl. “If only you know the details of the operation, how can we cooperate effectively?”

Varg gestured with one paw-hand. “Agreed. Your plan would limit us just as it does the Vord.”

Tavi bared his teeth in a smile. “Ah. But we have something the Vord do not have.”

Varg tilted his head to one side. “What is that?”

“Ink.”

CHAPTER 26

The First Spear strode into the command tent and found Magnus glaring silently at Sir Carleus, the youngest, gangliest, largest-eared of the Knights Aeris in service to the First Aleran. Marcus nodded to the elderly Cursor and returned the young Knight’s immediate salute.

“Magnus,” the First Spear said, “what’s going on?”

“Wait a moment,” Magnus said, his clenched jaws making the word tight with tension. “I don’t want to have to explain it twice.”

“Ah.”

Magnus grimaced. “Bloody crows, I don’t want to have to explain it at all, but…”