Turning the Storm Read online

  “Well, thank you, Generale,” Isabella said stiffly, and took her leave.

  Alone with Lucia, I sighed. “Are you sure you don't want to command a unit, Lucia?”

  “And have Isabella on my back, as well as yours and Michel's?” Lucia raised an eyebrow. “Positive.”

  “So.” I wiped out my teacup and put it away. “What's on my list?”

  Lucia considered for a moment. “The scouts are due back this evening, but probably won't get in until late tonight. If they're not back by morning, we'll have to assume that they were captured. That's the most significant news.”

  I nodded.

  “Other than that … We're in pretty good shape for grain, but we're low on horse feed. If we absolutely have to, we can feed some of our wheat to the horses, but for obvious reasons that's not the best option. In any case, it's critical that we capture food at the next camp. And if they have horses, we should send them north with the refugees, rather than keeping them ourselves. Cavalry is nice, but we just don't have the food stocks.”

  I nodded; she was right, although this would only increase resentment among the people who didn't have horses but thought they should. Never mind that most of these people could barely ride, let alone fight from horseback; a horse was a symbol of status, so everyone wanted one.

  “Other than that—Nerio and Viola split and have made quite a fuss about it.”

  “Move them into separate units. I don't care if they reconcile and miss each other; we're keeping them separate from now on. This is, what, the fourth time?”

  “Fifth. Let's see. Ulpio and Bruttio were fighting.”

  “Latrine duty.”

  “Paulo and Severo are rumored to be spoiling for a fight.”

  “Paulo and Severo?” They were two more of the men I'd put in charge of units … and now regretted putting in charge. “What's their problem?”

  “Paulo's convinced you're favoring Severo's men. He wants a horse, and he thinks you're sending his men to dig latrines and scrub pots a bit too often. He blames Severo for turning you against him.”

  I sighed. “Remind me to ease up on Paulo's men. He's wrong, but it's not worth losing his loyalty over. Maybe I should give him a horse.” I looked up; Lucia gazed at me levelly, a glint of humor in her eyes. I sighed again. “Once we're out of the wasteland, the horses can graze …”

  “According to Giovanni's calculations, that won't be until the end of the summer.”

  I shook my head. “No horse for Paulo, then. Maybe I'll arrange to outfit all his men with swords and crossbows.”

  “Think you can get Giovanni to train them?” Lucia asked. “If you give them the swords without training they'll only trip over them in battle.”

  “I could try making Felice do it,” I said.

  “Think he'll be any better than Michel? Or Giovanni?”

  “Could he be any worse?” I said. “Don't answer that. I suppose I should go spring him from the stockade. What else do I still need to take care of?”

  Lucia considered. “Five more people who want you to mediate disputes.”

  “Oh, for— Can't you do it?”

  She shook her head. “They specifically requested you. Look, at least they aren't fighting.”

  “Right, I know. Fine. Later, before the scouts get back. Was that it?”

  “That's all,” Lucia said.

  “In that case …” I stretched. “I'm going to visit Felice.”

  The stockade was really just a fenced area with two guards standing over it. The fence was a flimsy, makeshift affair; any determined prisoner could escape by uprooting a fence stake and running. Most of the time, when I tossed someone in the stockade it was more for the symbolic humiliation than actual confinement.

  I expected Felice to greet me with a glare, but he merely looked sad and hurt. “I had no idea you'd take it like this,” he said when I arrived.

  “Then you were poorly briefed.”

  “Is this really necessary?” He gestured at the fence and the guards. “I promise not to try to take away your army.”

  “I don't think you'd be able to,” I said. “I had you locked up because you're a stranger and you might be here to cause trouble. Why should I trust you? I was never one of the official reformers of Cuore; I don't know the passwords and countersigns that so thoroughly impressed Giovanni.” I stepped close to the fence, noticing that Felice was sweating. “Why should I trust you?”

  Felice placed his hands flat against the fence posts. “Signora Generale,” he said. “I may be soft and I may be weak compared to you and your men. The orders I was sent with may betray a terrible arrogance on the part of my leaders. But the fire that burns in my heart springs from the same flame as the fire in yours. My brothers were among those murdered by the Circle to keep secret the devastation caused by magefire. And I will do whatever it takes to bring them down.” He met my eyes with urgent sincerity. “Let me fight with you, Generale. You won't regret it.”

  “Well,” I said. I uprooted a fence post and gestured that he could step out of the prison. “Welcome to my army.” I fitted the post back into the ground and started to walk away.

  “Wait,” Felice said. I turned back. “What do I do now?”

  “That's for you to figure out, isn't it?” His look was so pitiful I relented. “Fine. Report to—oh, you can be in Paulo's unit.” I flagged down Vitale. “Escort Felice here to Paulo. Do you know how to use a sword for anything other than jewelry, Felice?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Tell Paulo that Felice will be helping him with arms training.” With any luck, Felice would be better at it than Michel. Vitale saluted and marched Felice off.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  “Martido won't return my bracelet.”

  I stared at Fiora, baffled. “Why does he have it?”

  “I gave it to him when we were—you know. And now we're not. But he won't give it back to me.”

  I glanced at Lucia, who sat beside me. She gave me her faintest wicked grin, and my spirits lifted slightly. I didn't understand why I was the one who had to mediate these stupid arguments. Lucia would have been better at it.

  “Where did you get the bracelet?”

  “From Teleso's keep.” Fiora glared at me stubbornly now. “It's mine. I want it back.”

  “You only had it because I said you could have it, you stupid cow,” Martido said, speaking up for the first time since they'd come in. He sat as far away from Fiora as he could and still be in the tent. “I saw it first.”

  “Why do you want it?”

  They answered in unison: “Because it's mine.”

  How did I get involved in this sort of thing? And this was only the first dispute of the five Lucia had mentioned. “Give it here,” I said to Martido, and he reluctantly handed it over. I studied the bracelet. Teleso must have kept it to adorn his mistresses, or else it had be longed to his sister. It was a woman's jeweled bracelet, ornate and fairly delicate. It would look silly on Martido's wrist.

  “Generale!” The voice came from outside the tent, and then Vitale poked his head in through the door. “Generale, the scouts have returned.”

  I slipped the bracelet onto my own wrist. “We'll finish this later,” I said to Martido and Fiora. “I'll hold the bracelet for now.” Martido started to protest, then thought the better of it and followed Fiora out of the tent.

  Vitale held the tent flap open for the scouts as they came in—six haggard and exhausted men and women. “Vitale,” I said. “Get Giovanni, then fetch food and wine for the scouts. Then tell all unit commanders I want them here in an hour.” He saluted and slipped back out. “Report, Camilla,” I said to the scout leader.

  Camilla was a farm girl who had entertained herself as a child by testing how close she could get to wild birds before they saw her and flew away. Now she used her noiseless step and her ability to disappear into the dusty ground of the wasteland to scout out the slave camps before we attacked. She was slightly built, with tiny hands an
d feet and a dark cap of short-cropped hair.

  She pulled up a cushion and sat down, tucking her feet neatly under her. “Chira is about the same size as Ravenna,” she said, “but more heavily guarded. They've received reinforcements, and Demetrio—their commander—has taken the trouble to train them.” She sketched the camp's layout in the dust. “Like the other camps, Chira is set into a valley. They've done a better job with the perimeter, though; they built the camp up against a section of the wall they're building, and used that for some of the defenses.”

  “The wall could work to our advantage,” I said. “If we could get some of our people on to it, to fire down—the valley location makes it easier to keep your prisoners contained, but it's hard to defend.”

  Camilla looked up. “In addition to the keep, they have five other buildings, also solidly built. And they must know that we start with a cavalry charge, but they haven't set up lances to impale the horses; I think they want to draw us in, then use those subsidiary watchtowers to shoot us down.”

  “Sounds plausible,” Lucia said as Giovanni joined us. I briefly repeated what Camilla had told me, then gestured for Camilla to continue.

  “The thing that worries me the most,” Camilla said, “is that Demetrio runs drills. I saw them practicing, and it looked like they were rehearsing exactly what to do if there was an uprising, or if we attacked.”

  “You saw the drill?” Then we knew his strategy. One of them, at least.

  “Yes.” Camilla described the procedures the soldiers ran through. “He even had a soldier whose job was to go torch the grain. They're onto us.”

  “That's what they think, anyway,” I said. “Which building holds the grain?” Camilla pointed to one of the scuffs she'd drawn in the dust. “Then we know what to protect. What are the people like?”

  “Scared. Beaten down. Demetrio keeps a tight grip; we saw two executions during the time we were watching. Both were escape attempts who got caught.”

  “The soldiers?”

  “Brutal. And loyal to Demetrio.”

  Vitale arrived then with food and wine for the scouts, and they paused to have something to eat and drink. We finished the briefing before the rest of the commanders arrived, but I already had a pretty good idea of what I was going to do. Camilla seeing those drills had been a stroke of luck.

  It was very late when we finished; I sent the scouts off to sleep and slipped out of my tent. Michel trailed me as I headed past the edge of the camp and into the wasteland, keeping a respectful distance.

  The hills of the wasteland were silvery in the moonlight. Even on the darkest nights, you could tell that the land here was dead. I sat down at the crest of one hill and opened my violin case. Learning to fight with a sword had callused my right hand, despite the gloves I always wore. It felt a little strange now to take my bow in hand and tuck my violin under my chin, but I could still make my violin sing. I tuned up and played for an hour, just for myself. I played the songs I'd learned with Mira, and the violin part of some of the ensemble pieces from the conservatory. Finally I played the Mass. I glanced at Michel, standing watch a short distance away. I always wondered if he wanted to dance when I played the Mass, but tonight he probably just wished I'd stop playing and go to bed so that he could get some sleep as well. I had to admit that I was tired. I put my violin away and headed back for the camp. As I reached my tent, I turned to Michel. He was still trailing me sleepily.

  “Martido and Fiora,” I said. “Whose unit are they in, anyway?”

  “Severo's,” he said.

  I nodded. “Good.” I took the bracelet off my wrist and handed it to Michel. “Take this to Severo and tell him that he can deal with it. I have an army to lead.” Michel blinked at me, puzzled, as I went inside to bed.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  We attacked Chira at dawn a few days later, sweeping down from the black hills like the monstrous Heralds of the Lady's Vengeance that Her book promised on the last days. (Lucia insisted that Gaius had lifted this image directly from something in the stories of Gèsu, but she wasn't sure quite what.) We had split off the cavalry from the infantry as we traveled, and the cavalry circled around to strike from the far side of Chira. When we were in position, I blew three piercing blasts on the whistle I carried into battle, and we urged our horses to a full gallop as we fell upon the camp.

  Sentries from the fence shouted an alarm, but we broke through and rode them down. From the corner of my eye, I could see Severo leading a squadron of Lupi archers along the top of the wall. One of the Chirani soldiers had been on guard; Severo took him out with a blow of his staff. I found myself smiling. My commanders had their problems, but they knew how to fight.

  Giovanni had been training me to fight from horseback with a sword, but my enthusiastic swings were as likely to pull me off the horse as to do any damage, so today I settled for my crossbow and the whistle. Chirani prisoners scattered in every direction as we rode in, adding to the general confusion. A few had the presence of mind to escape the enclosure, but most just panicked. Demetrio's troops tried to regroup, retreating to their fortresses to fire on us from relative safety. This was where Camilla's skill would pay off, assuming that she and the other members of her team had been successful in their mission.

  A few of the soldiers had reached their forts now— but they were making their first mistake. The first soldiers to make it in panicked, slamming the door behind them and trapping their fellow soldiers outside. Our cavalry closed in for the kill; a few of us fell to arrows fired from the towers, but only a few. Holding back a bit, I whispered my secret selfish prayer: don't let anyone I know get hurt. These days, I knew everyone in my army, but when I whispered that prayer, I meant Lucia, Michel, and Giovanni. I felt ashamed to make such a selfish request of God, so I said this prayer to the Lord; the Lady's consort was known for taking care of the little things.

  Each of the extra guard towers Demetrio had built had been equipped with a large stash of extra crossbow bolts, enough to take out most of the Lupi if need be. As the soldiers' quivers ran low, they looked to those stocks—and the rain of crossbow bolts slowed abruptly. Camilla and her scouts had removed them in the night. The soldiers would have to make every shot count now; we could all move in. I blew a long blast on my whistle, then a short blast, then a long blast. Of course, Camilla couldn't remove all the arrows from the main keep. But just before dawn she'd slipped inside it and hidden; when we reached the back door, she would open it. As the Lupi infantry charged, some of the Chirani prisoners came out of hiding, cheering for us or even picking up tools from their work on the wall and joining the charge.

  Paulo and his unit had been assigned to secure the granary; since I saw no smoke or flame, they'd probably succeeded. I led the way to the door of the keep, and we burst in, flooding through the hallways, killing the soldiers who didn't surrender.

  Chira was ours by the time the sun had risen over the hills.

  The Lupi had the routine down by now. Secure the grain, horses, weapons, and papers. Capture the keep commander if possible, and his lieutenants, and place them under guard. Tell the prisoners that they were free to go or to join our army, and let them loot the rest of the keep to their heart's content—although the Lupi generally joined in that part of the fun as well.

  We found Demetrio in his study, dead by his own hand. I was secretly relieved; I didn't like executing people and I liked extracting information from them even less. Giovanni and I covered the body and Giovanni started on the desk. “How are Lucia and Michel?” I asked.

  “Fine,” Giovanni said, pulling out the first desk drawer. “Lucia is off ministering to the injured.”

  “Where's Felice?”

  Giovanni snorted. “He fell behind last night. I wasn't optimistic about his usefulness in a battle, so I told him to follow our track and get here when he got here. He pouted at me.”

  “Figures.” I poked at the papers on the desk, then decided to let Giovanni handle the job. “I'll be back in a few hours.�
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  “Have fun.” Giovanni didn't look up from the desk.

  I went out for what Giovanni called my personal victory parade, visiting each unit and congratulating everyone who'd fought with us, including the Chirani who'd picked up tools as improvised weapons. The Chirani were a grim lot, even more haggard and desperate than most of the prisoners we'd freed. I was passing the granary when I heard a hesitant voice say, “Eliana?”

  The voice was familiar, and I turned. My mouth dropped open. Of all the people to find here—“Lia.”

  Lia had been my roommate at the conservatory before Mira. She'd left the conservatory a year ago, when her family announced plans to move north. Her high cheekbones were prominent to the point of being ghoulish-looking, and her green eyes were sunken, but even starving she was beautiful in her own strange way. Lia had always been an odd one at the conservatory—she played lute, and had stubbornly refused to take up an ensemble instrument, saying that she wanted to be a minstrel when she finished her education. “Lia,” I said again. “What are you doing here?”

  Lia gave me a ghostlike smile. “I could ask the same of you. I think it's pretty obvious what I'm doing here— building a bloody wall. But the Eliana I heard about was you? I can't believe it.”

  I glanced around. I'd finished my parade, and my time was my own—as much as it ever was these days. “Come on, I'll get you something to eat. Do you have family here?” Lia shook her head. “Let's go talk for a while.”

  I led the way down into the larder. “All these keeps are laid out the same,” I said. “This set of stairs always leads to the larder, and there's a hidden cabinet of food that the first looters to come through always miss.” I pulled out the loaves of bread and bricks of cheese. “Don't eat too much, too fast,” I warned her. “Especially not the cheese.” There was a flask of wine in the cabinet as well, and I poured us each a glass.