Crusade - James Lowder [91]
"This is not easy work," Vangerdahast noted when he'd recovered the scroll. "Each of the spellcasters in the army commands different spells. For the magic units to be of any use, I have to know their potential, know what incantation I can expect from each man and woman." He glanced at Thom, who was still slouched over the Tuigan vocabulary list. "And you, Master Bard.
Are you finding the Tuigan tongue easier to glean than your king is?"
Tossing his black braid over his shoulder, the bard met Vangerdahast's gaze. "It's not that difficult," he said affably. He looked across the table at Azoun, who was watching him carefully. "Of course, I've had a little exposure to it before."
Azoun motioned to a thin, battered book that lay to his right on the table.
"This was Thom's, remember? He'd read it-how many times?"
"Four," the bard answered.
"Four times," Azoun noted to Vangerdahast, holding up the appropriate number of fingers. "It's no wonder, he's picking this up faster than I am." The king reached for the book and opened it to a random page. "Does Lord Rayburton have much to say about the Tuigan themselves, or did he just take notes on their language?"
Straightening in his seat, Thom said, "His comments on their dress and the language notes he made are the only things of value. That's why I didn't bring the book to your attention earlier, milord. It's mostly filled with value judgments about the Tuigan's 'barbarism.'"
Azoun raised an eyebrow. "Does Rayburton depict the Tuigan as greater savages than the representative from Rashemen did during the council?"
"Yes, but what makes me doubt his word is the way he describes Shou Lung," the bard replied. "He calls the Shou savages, too, and we know that's not true."
Thom reached for the battered tome and searched for a specific illustration.
"Still, Lord Rayburton was an adventurer-one of the first men to cross from the West to Shou Lung without magical aid," he explained as he leafed through the book. He paused and added, "There are some wonderful songs about him, I'll sing you one some time."
"The Tuigan," Vangerdahast prompted.
Thom found the page he was searching for and returned the book to Azoun. "Before Yamun Khahan, the steppe riders were only nomadic clans, far less organized than they are now. Still, from all I've heard, their basic culture has advanced little since Rayburton's time."
The illustration made Azoun gasp. There, in crude line drawings, was a depiction of a horsewarrior flaying a man alive. To the warrior's right, another soldier was slitting his horse's leg and drinking its blood. A line of sticks with heads impaled upon them served as a backdrop for the grisly scene. The king passed the book to the royal wizard, who only shrugged.
"Let's hope, for our emissaries' sake, that Rayburton and Fonjara Galth were exaggerating the Tuigan's cruelty," Vangerdahast noted as he stood and stretched.
The rain continued to beat a lulling rhythm on the canvas, a sound that was punctuated only by strong gusts of wind and the noise from the Alliance's camp. Azoun silently wondered if he had sent the envoys to their deaths. The thought pained him greatly, even though he knew that he and the whole crusading force were in great danger now.
The king and the Army of the Alliance had reached a suitable site for a camp along the Golden Way-as the frequently traveled trade route was called-three days earlier. The men had been exhausted after the slow, grueling march from Telflamm, so Azoun had let them rest for one day before he started drilling them. Trained soldiers and experienced mercenaries made up a portion of the army, so the generals didn't need to teach them how to march or handle a weapon. They did, however, need to break the soldiers into units of manageable size and make them familiar with the signals that would be used during the battle.
Any relief the men might have taken from a break