Heirs of the Blade_ Shadows of the Apt_ Book Seven - Adiran Tchaikovsky [186]
Tynisa stared at him for a long while until, as though he was one of those clever pictures the Collegium mathematicians drew, that flipped from one image to another as the eye adjusted its perspective, finally he turned into someone she knew.
‘How long have you been with us?’ she demanded.
‘All the way,’ he replied. It was Gaved, whom she had not seen since she was his guest on the lakeshore.
‘You weren’t at the council.’
He shrugged. ‘I asked Prince Lowre if I could join you.’
‘I’m surprised he didn’t have you thrown out. I’m surprised he ever wants to see another of your people, after the war.’
‘Then perhaps you don’t understand him,’ he replied, maddeningly calm. ‘Sef asked me to see that you were all right.’
Tynisa narrowed her eyes, smelling the lie, and he made a curious gesture, of proffering his fists as though wanting her to guess which one held the stone in it. She realized it was the Wasp equivalent of holding up open hands to stave off a hostile reaction.
‘It was a request,’ he admitted, ‘but from Felipe Shah. He wanted to know that you were well, and that you stayed that way.’
She was suspicious at that. ‘Why would Felipe Shah even know you exist, Gaved?’
For a moment he just stared at her, but then he shrugged. ‘Man in my position, it’s good to let people know I’m useful.’
‘And you’re being paid, of course.’
‘Gratitude of princes.’ He shrugged. ‘Still, as princes go, Felipe’s word is better than most.’
Whitehand passed nearby. ‘I’ve set watches. Get what sleep you can.’
Sleep? Tynisa felt too fierce and full of fight to sleep, but a moment later some part of her had made its own calculation, and she knew that she would sleep undisturbed, and wake in an instant, fresh and spoiling for blood. Another gift she had not enjoyed a month ago.
‘I don’t need looking after,’ she warned Gaved.
‘Should make earning my wage that much easier, then,’ he replied, frowning a little as though he was trying to work out what was different about her. Abruptly, she turned her back on him, stretching out on the ground to sleep, as though she spent every night in the wilds. It was not so much that she wanted to dismiss him from her thoughts as that she felt her hand being drawn towards her sword hilt by the Wasp’s mere presence.
It was barely dawn when she awoke, sitting up abruptly with her blade in her hand. The sentries Whitehand had posted were just at that moment rushing into camp. It seemed the brigands were approaching.
‘They’re later than we’d thought,’ the Mantis was saying. ‘They must have rested up at least part of the night, and they’ll be fresher, but we only need to hold them until the rest arrive. Fetch me all of our archers.’
By the dawn light Tynisa could see their surroundings better: to their right the land rose in rocky steps, to the left, whence they had come, the ground was scrubby and uneven, fit pasture only for goats. The ten who Isendter had picked to fight mounted were already assembling there, a little way from the main force, leaving room for a charge. Northwards was a ragged forest edge, but Whitehand had chosen this clear ground for their stand, ground that the retreating brigands would be forced to cross.
‘They’re on their way.’ Gaved appeared at her elbow, and she had to fight fiercely to keep her sword still.
‘How do you know?’
He pointed upwards, and she saw a shape pass across the lightening sky: a dragonfly rider circling. Alain, is it? She was abruptly convinced that it must be, for even if his mother had kept him back from the fight, he would still want to play his part. And he will see me.
Whitehand had set the archers up on their right flank, up amongst the rocks, leaving perhaps thirty spearmen and swordsmen to hold the centre. Tynisa saw what would happen if a large force struck them: we will be folded back against the high ground. It would guard their backs, but they would have nowhere to go. The meagre cavalry could charge in then,