Chapter
Nine
Elmy,
They
took to calling themselves the dead. That was the name of my new army. I
suspect Nogilian began it, though I did nothing to fight its spread. It
asserted common experience, bonding the men together. It reminded them of what
they fought for and who had done it to them. And it connoted a certain
invulnerability: you can only really kill the living.
Oh,
I would have tried that last upon myself. In the end, Ash had to tie me to my cot
until the delirium passed. Though he would never admit it, for most of three days
Nogilian had been in command. Afterwards, I tried to convince him to stay that
way.
“You’re
clearly more suited,” I said. “The men worship you every time they stand.”
Ash
had finally explained that strange hand motion with the crooked thumbs. It’s both
a religious gesture and salute, with the fingers. They’re showing eight, the
number of the inhabited regions of the world, the number of the months, of the
days of the week and hours of the day. It’s also the number of the Guardians,
the number of the parts of the temples, the number of years of significant life
phases. Hell, Elmy, it’s probably the number of times they shit.
It
used to terrify them that the Augers came in ranks of nine. That meant the
universe was out of whack. It meant excess and chaos and cancerous
disagreement. And wouldn’t you know it, it also signified the end of the world,
which turned out to be more or less correct.
Nogilian
did not respond. Elmy, I lost one interstellar battle. Nogilian had lost two armies. “You have the infantry, then,” I
said. “Someone’s got to see to the purely military side of things. Get my
people trained.”
When
his eyes fell I knew he had accepted. I was sorry. But only his heart had
broken, and a great deal of his will. His talent for command remained intact.
And he retained too much honor to let his grief affect his duties. He knew what
needed doing, and I needed everyone who could get it done.
So
I behaved capably myself. Those old softies the apes, I soon discovered, did
not even attack parties larger than fifteen or so. I kept all our squads to ten,
and my knowledge to myself. I was playing this one to win. We needed the
experience.
We
soon filled the archipelago. Ki had non-combatants shovel new islands into
being, which may have also been a suggestion from me. There came a day when I
ordered a leviathan hunt. We lost as many men doing that as we did during the
average monkey raid. But Ki said we did it by the book, that the ones standing
as bait understood they took their chances.
“How many today?” I asked Nogilian. We were
all meeting outside my tent in our nightly confab. Just as the Academy taught
it. Identify, delegate, and reassess. Each led a portion of the army but took
different additional duty.
“One
in the morning. None this afternoon. We’ve exhausted all the grids.” He was
bored but did not say so. In even our brief conversations, it was clear that he
was the most sublime tactical mind I had ever met.
I
turned to my logistics man. “Tevantes?” I asked.
“If
we go much further into the swamp, our foragers will have to take rations with
them.”
“Right,
that was what I thought. Ki?”
She
knew what I was asking. “We’re right at five thousand. Cohesion is what it is.
They can march, they’ll do what we say. We’ve done a lot of training, and we
know they’ll stay together in most situations. The mixed ranks are doing well,
but the civilians have never fought an enemy they could actually see.”
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