'I decline the offer,' Duiker said.
Lull's grin returned. 'Request denied, and I'm to stay at your side so you don't slip away as you're wont to do.'
'Hood take you, bastard!'
'Aye, soon enough.'
Nine days to the River P'atha. We stretch to meet each minor goal, there's a genius in this. Coltaine offers the marginally possible to fool us into achieving the impossible. All the way to Aren. But for all his ambition, we shall fail. Fail in the flesh and the bone. 'We kill the warleader, another will step into his place,' Duiker said after a time.
'Probably not as talented nor as brave as the task demands. A part of him will know: if his efforts are mediocre, we're likely to let him live. If he shows us brilliance, we'll kill him.'
Ah, that rings of Coltaine. His well-aimed arrows of fear and uncertainty. He's yet to miss the mark. So long as he does not fail, he cannot fail. The day he slips up, shows imperfection, is the day our heads will roll. Nine days to fresh water. Kill the Tithansi war-leader and we'll get there. Make them reel with every victory, let them draw breath with every loss – Coltaine trains them as he would beasts, and they don't even realize it.
Captain Lull leaned over the saddlehorn. 'Corporal List, you awake?'
The young man's head swung up and turned from side to side.
'Damn you, Historian,' Lull growled. 'The lad's fevered from lack of water.'
Looking at the corporal, Duiker saw the high colour beneath the dust streaks on List's drawn cheeks, his all too bright eyes. 'He wasn't like that this morning—'
'Eleven hours ago!'
Eleven?
The captain twisted his horse away, his shouts for a healer breaking through the incessant rumble of hooves, wagon wheels and countless footfalls which made up the train's unceasing roar.
Eleven?
Animals shifted position in the clouds of dust. Lull returned, alongside him Nether, the girl looking tiny atop the huge, muscular roan she rode. The captain collected the reins of List's horse and passed them over to Nether. Duiker watched the Wickan child lead the corporal away.
'I'm tempted to have her attend to you afterward,' Lull said. 'Hood's breath, man – when did you last take a sip of water?'
'What water?'
'We've casks left for the soldiers. You take a skin every morning, Historian, up where the wagons carrying the wounded are positioned. Each dusk you bring the skin back.'
'There's water in the stew, isn't there?'
'Milk and blood.'
'If there are casks left for the soldiers, what of everyone else?'
'Whatever they managed to carry with them from the Sekala River,' Lull said. 'We'll protect them, aye, but we'll not mother them. Water's become the currency, I hear, and the trading's fierce.'
'Children are dying.'
Lull nodded. 'That's a succinct summary of humankind, I'd say. Who needs tomes and volumes of history? Children are dying. The injustices of the world hide in those three words. Quote me, Duiker, and your work's done.'
The bastard's right. Economics, ethics, the games of the gods – all within that single, tragic statement. I'll quote you, soldier. Be assured of that. An old sword, pitted and blunt and nicked, that cuts clean to the heart. 'You humble me, Captain.'
Lull grunted, passing over a waterskin. 'A couple of mouthfuls. Don't push it or you'll choke.'
Duiker's smile was wry.
'I trust,' the captain continued, 'you've kept up on that List of the Fallen you mentioned.'
'No, I've ... stumbled of late, I'm afraid.'
Lull jerked a tight nod.
'How do we fare, Captain?'
'We're getting mauled. Badly. Close to twenty killed a day, twice that wounded. Vipers in the dust – they suddenly appear, arrows fly, a soldier dies. We send out a troop of Wickans in pursuit, they ride into an ambush. We send out another, we got a major tangle on our hands, leaving flanks open to either side. Refugees get cut down, drovers get skewered and we lose a few more animals – unless those Wickan dogs are around, that is, those are nasty beasts. Mind you, their numbers are dropping as well.'
'In other words, this can't go on much longer.'
Lull bared his teeth, a white gleam amidst his grey-shot red beard. 'That's why we're going for the warleader's head. When we reach the River P'atha, there'll be another full-scale battle. He ain't invited.'
'Another disputed crossing?'