Page 57 of Scorched Earth
Felix caught his arm. “You all right?”
“The tower—” He broke off, seeing the black tower was as it always was. Unease spooled in his stomach, because headaches were one thing. Seeing things was quite another. Austornic was staring at him with suspicious eyes, so he swiftly said, “Why didn’t Rastag pull down the Seventh tower?”
“Oh, he tried.” Felix shook his head. “Used up half our stores of black powder trying to blow the base, ropes to pull it over, and even dug into its foundation. The damn thing seems to grow out of the ground itself and is made of stronger stuff than even xenthier. Same in Galinha. I’ll show you.”
The marks of the Thirty-Seventh’s engineer’s attempts were made visible as they entered the wide swath of space that had once been encircled by the towers. Cobbles had been torn up around the black tower, the excavation extensive. Walking to the edge of the pit, Marcus stared down. The strange black stone did indeed run deep and seemed entirely unmarred by the explosives. Stronger stuff than xenthier, indeed, for the crystal pathscouldbe destroyed with black power, the right timing, and a healthy dose of nerve. “Leave it,” he said. “It’s not worth our time or resources.”
His eyes landed on Gibzen, who had climbed down onto the scaffolding and had a hand pressed against the black stone. “Gibzen!” When the primus didn’t respond, he repeated, “Gibzen!”
The other man started, then looked up at him. “Yes, sir?”
“Get out of there!”
Marcus turned back to his officers, but the motion threw his balance off. His shoulder slammed against Felix’s with a clank of metal, and several of the men frowned. Not giving them time to comment, he said, “I will not waste breath on preamble, especially given that most of you are fully updated.”
They all nodded.
“We have learned about potential routes terminating in Gamdesh, the closest of which is in Emrant.” They all knew the maps as well as he did, so there were nods all around. “Except the Gamdeshians aren’t going to allow us control of a port city without a fight.”
“We can’t take them on with three legions,” Lev, Titus’s second, said. “At least, not without an unpalatable number of casualties. Especially not if we wish to maintain control over Arinoquia.”
“Agreed. However, we have the capacity to request reinforcements through the stem that terminates in the Atlian lake.” Marcus made a note to ask Rastag if he was familiar with the lake and could give his own estimates on how long it would take to drain. “We will also request reinforcement. As to whether the Consul will choose to send another legion, only time will tell. Until then, we will pursue other tactics. The Maarin have ensured the Sultan of Gamdesh is aware of the Empire’s…reputation.If we leverage what they’ve been told of our military capacity, they may be willing to consider diplomacy, especially given the alliance that Titus cemented with Katamarca. Allowing us access to the paths for the purposes of trade would prevent it from coming to all-out war. The Gamdeshians don’t know the stems in Bardeen and Sibern are inadequate. For all they know, we have the whole of the Empire’s military force at our beck and call.”
“Except if they call our bluff,” Austornic argued, “we’ll have told them our exact goal and target. They’ll begin the process of reinforcing the city, and we’ll have lost the advantage of a surprise attack.”
“Diplomacy first.” It was a struggle to suppress his annoyance that the boy was pointing out the obvious flaw in the plan. Especially given that Marcus couldn’t reveal his actual intentions.
Austornic crossed his arms. “I think it’s a mistake.”
Giving the boy a warning look, Marcus said, “I need translators literate in Gamdeshian and Katamarcan for correspondence.”
Austornic’s lips parted. “Teriana—”
“No. She is not to be involved, is that understood?”
“Is that wise?” Servius asked. “Not only is she fluentandliterate in all these languages, but she also personally knows these rulers. Obviously there are some… ah… complications, but from what I’ve heard from the Fifty-First, her interests are aligned with ours. Seems prudent to use her as a resource.”
“No,” Marcus repeated. “That is an order. She is not to be involved, and if I discover thatanyonehas violated that order, I’ll have the skin lashed off the perpetrator’s back.”
Servius whistled through his teeth. “Fine, fine. I’ll see who has mastered the language, but if your missive to the Sultan is full of spelling errors, that’s—”
“Servius…”
His big friend fell silent but scuffed his sandal across the paving stones to show his displeasure.
“You’ve a lot of work to do,” Marcus told him. “The Senate didn’t send the Fifty-First here to watch the Thirty-Seventh sit around campfires drinking and gambling. Put them to work. And Felix, arrange a meeting with Atrio. Dismissed.”
His officers started to depart the square, including Austornic, but Marcus leveled a finger at the boy. “You’ll stay.”
“Yes, sir.” The young legatus crossed his arms behind his back, face expressionless as he stared at Marcus’s breastplate.
Once the other officers were out of earshot, Marcus said, “I’d like to discuss your choice to question my strategy in front of the others.” Out of the corner of his eye, the black tower leaned again, but he forced himself not to react. “I would have done the same thing when I was your age. Though I am now starting to understand what a pain in the ass I was to every legatus I served beneath.”
Austornic’s cheeks colored but he said nothing.
“So full of clever ideas and an ego that demanded they be deployed, never mind that those in command might have alternative plans in play. Never mind that I might not have all the information. Never mind that every legion is a different beast that can only be predicted by those who know it well.” It felt hard to stand steady, the square swimming out of focus, and Marcus broke off to take a drink of water from the skin at his belt.
It didn’t help, but Austornic was watching him with narrowed eyes, so Marcus continued. “It was no wonder that I was the way I was, given that I was told ad nauseam just how clever everyonethought me to be. Trotted before the Senate at age twelve to listen to the most powerful men in the Empire exclaim how I was the most brilliant mind to ever graduate. A strategic genius destined for greatness. The prodigy of Lescendor.” Marcus remembered how he’d once loved that title and now hated it. “My arrogance when I went into the field was a thing to behold, but I quickly learned that plans that were perfect on paper rarely worked out that way in practice. I learned that by getting men injured. Captured. Killed. Because I was achildand having every campaign in the Empire’s history memorized did not make up forexperience.”
