The Chaos Balance

LXXXII

“So much for honor among barbarians,” snapped Azarphi. A long red welt covered his forearm, and scattered burn marks dotted his forehead.

“The lack of honor was to be expected,” answered Majer Piataphi. “The fireballs were not. Where did they learn about those?” He turned to the third officer.

“It’s hard to tell, ser.” Miatorphi frowned, then winced. Like the others, he sported scattered burns. “They couldn’t burn the buildings, not with all the earth, but they got those few still in tents. Then they went for the horses, the wagons, and the hay.”

“Even with all the earthworks, they got one of the barracks and the small mill building, too,” added the majer.

“That took awhile. Most got out. The horses weren’t so lucky.” Miatorphi lifted his tunic away from the burn on his arm.

“Those aren’t barbarian tactics,” pointed out Azarphi. “Not any barbarians we’ve heard about. There must have been scores of them.”

“No,” answered Miatorphi slowly. “There were less than a score. There were no wagons, either. We found tracks. The fireballs came from down in the south gully. They had to get close.”

“White magic?” asked the majer. “I don’t see how. You can follow a white fireball, the magely kind. These just flared up when they hit.”

“There were clay fragments,” Miatorphi added.

“So…” Piataphi pursed his lips. “A disciplined night attack, and the barbarians have never done that. Targeted fireballs, no wagons, no wizards, and less than a score of barbarians. Yet we lost nearly fourscore mounts, between those that went over the wall or were burned or so badly injured that they had to be destroyed. There’s not much fodder, and three supply wagons are charcoal. That doesn’t count the eighteen men who were burned, the barracks, and the mill. How do you suggest I explain this to His Mightiness?”

Both the captains swallowed. Miatorphi looked at the ashes that had once been a corral.

Azarphi grinned nervously. “Could you blame it on those angels?”

“Where did you hear about them?” asked the majer.

The younger captain shrugged. “You hear things, ser. Could be that some are helping the barbarians.”

“How likely would that be? Supposedly, the barbarians fought a war with the angels last fall. Why would the angels help them against us?”

“Stranger things have happened. Besides, ser, you don’t have to say that it was the angels. You could sort of hint…I mean, where would barbarians come up with fireballs? And they really like horses…the barbarians do. You’ve heard the joke. You know, what’s a barbarian sodomite?” Azarphi paused. “He’s one who likes his woman better than his mount.”

Miatorphi shook his head.

The majer touched his chin absently, stifled a wince, and frowned. “I had not thought of it in that way. Yes…we could raise those points.” He smiled a hard smile. “We also need to strike back. It does not have to be at their warriors. But we will show that Cyador is not mocked.”

The other two nodded.