Eastern Tokoban
8th day of the grand absence of the Great Star
It had taken more days, more lives, and more fighting than he’d hoped, but less – just – than he’d feared.
Their advance had been torturously slow, though at least it meant they’d been able to dig in properly in Yalotlan, allowing the engineers and slaves to throw up small pyramids. The song now rang across almost all of western Yalotlan. Pilos prayed nightly to the holy Setatmeh that the same was true in the rest of that land, that Atu and the Talons under his command were making similar progress in their long, bloody drive to the coast. But now, finally, they were in Tokoban.
As he’d half feared and half expected – and so planned for – the war had degenerated into the same bitter, hard-fought mess that he’d faced in Quitoban so long before, but instead of river deltas and tidal marshes, they faced increasingly hilly territory, concealed ravines, and night attacks. Yaloh and Tokob fought not just for every stick, but for every tree and vine and flower. They spilt blood as liberally as any holy Setat, their own and that of the Melody, and in the last two weeks they had made it clear that mercy was a concept unknown to them.
They set ambushes in areas prone to mudslides; they laid snares and pit-traps on the trails, they coated the leaves that hung across their path with blinding tree sap so that any who brushed against them were tormented by burning welts. Everything they did was designed to slow them. And slow them it did.
‘How far to this hill of theirs, Flight?’ Pilos asked as they stood in the shade of an immense fig, conscious of the fact this whole land was a series of hills of varying sizes. For all he knew, they might be halfway up this sacred mountain already.
Ilandeh clicked her tongue as she thought. ‘On a clear run from here, seven days. Facing what we’ve been facing and with towns ahead of us? Two weeks. Could be more.’
‘Well, it can’t be more,’ Pilos said. ‘I’d prefer if it wasn’t two weeks, either.’ Every day he sent word back through the jungle to a pyramid where Citla, his Listener, waited to send updates to the Singer. The responses that came back were … confused. Many were clearly from the holy lord himself, demanding greater speed and reiterating, over and over, his desire that they send him the frog-lickers, but others required him to find shamans and keepers of lore and old tales, those who knew the history of their peoples and the creation myths.
Pilos had no idea whether these had come from the Singer or Enet. Neither filled him with much confidence as to the state of the Singing City and the wider Empire. His desire to return to his Singer’s side and lance the infection rushing through the song increased with every passing day. His frustration – at the terrain, at the still-falling rain, at the Yaloh and Tokob shadows among the trees – grew with it.
‘We need to conclude this campaign and get back to the Singing City,’ Pilos said with quiet vehemence. ‘Ten days. I need us at the Sky City within ten days. And I need a way in.’ He pointed at Ilandeh. ‘Flight, you’re the only one here who knows the ground.’
He didn’t add how much he could have done with Dakto’s input as well as hers; Ilandeh knew it, and she blamed herself even though they’d been separated when the man had apparently made his own decision to wander all the way back to the Singing City to escort a few lines of slaves. Still, he could have been back by now, if he was coming. Pilos had sent a message to Elaq and Yana both to look out for the Whisper if he was still in the Singing City. He needed to know what he was up to.
The High Feather was glad Ilandeh blamed herself for his absence. It showed leadership, and out here, with time running out and Sarn disgraced, he needed warriors he could count on. Even half-blood macaws. ‘How do we do this?’ he asked.
‘Pushing through Tokoban so far hasn’t been easy, but I’m afraid it’s going to get worse: the ground rises in hill ranges from here, plus their major settlements are all at the base of Malel, and of course the Sky City itself is high up on the mountain. We need to cross the ranges and then take these villages and towns at the base before we even start to climb.’ Ilandeh pointed along the game trail they were using. ‘The towns are spread around the base like a necklace. Five of them, plus the usual scattered settlements. It’s five days to the towns and takes two to climb Malel to the Sky City. So with a ten-day deadline, that gives us three days to take the towns.’
She paused and puffed out her cheeks, then began to scrape a rough map in the mud with a stick. ‘There are four game trails I know of that lead onto Malel and to the Sky City. Three are used heavily and lead past these three settlements. This trail heads straight uphill to the Sky City. But all four trails will be watched, and as soon as the first of these towns falls, word will reach the Sky City we’re coming.’
‘Clever bastards,’ he muttered. ‘And there’s no way round?’
‘No, and they’ll be alert because of any forces we’ve driven ahead of us. I doubt even the Whispers could sneak past in any great number …’ She trailed off and Feather Calan went to speak, but Pilos hushed her.
‘But they don’t need to be in great numbers, do they?’ Ilandeh muttered and then coughed and winced, holding her chest. The blow she’d taken during the ambush had made her breathy, but she’d kept up with the march. Pilos knew it would take more than a club to the lungs to slow her down. It was one of the reasons he valued her so highly. That, and she was clever. ‘May I?’ she asked.
Pilos nodded. ‘Please.’
Half a smile crooked the corner of her mouth and she shifted. ‘Our noble adversaries like targeting work parties, killing overseers and warriors and freeing those slaves who would rather betray the song than die alongside their betters. Those freed slaves were being sent back towards Malel, but many of them will have stopped in these towns, especially if they’re fatigued or wounded. It’s likely that they all now have Axib, Quitob, even Tlaloxqueh refugees living with them. Many people. Many new, unfamiliar faces.’
Pilos grunted. ‘I like where this is going. How many do you think would make a difference?’
‘Ideally, a full half of the Whispers. I only visited one of these towns and I’d say it held a few thousand people. The rest, as far as I know, are of a like size. Fifty good Whispers in each to sabotage from the inside when you attack from without could be enough to tip the balance in our favour so they fall quickly. And we can cut off anyone trying to head uphill to warn the Sky City.’
‘But how do we get you in there?’ Calan asked.
‘Seed them through the jungle in small groups and have them running scared for the war parties to find and take them home like the saviours they believe themselves to be,’ Pilos said. ‘They won’t all make it, but enough will.’
‘It’s what we train for,’ Ilandeh agreed with impressive equanimity. ‘Blending in; avoiding suspicion. As you say, enough will get through to make a difference when the attack comes.’
Pilos knew she’d go if he asked it of her, despite being relatively well known in the Sky City and perhaps elsewhere.
‘The Whispers’ main priority will be to stop Tokob running uphill with word of our arrival. Second task will be opening gates and disrupting defence.’ Pilos tapped his finger on the triangle of the Sky City. ‘All right, I like it and I want the Whispers selected and sent off today. Once they’ve gone, they’ll be on their own until we arrive at the Sky City. So how do we take the Sky City itself?’
Ilandeh began to sketch a second map. Pilos had already studied the one she had drawn while she waited for the Melody to arrive, but they could all do with a reminder now they were actually among the hills and jungle. Terrain always looked different when you were in it.
‘Once we’ve taken the towns, we can split to use all four game trails for a swifter ascent. To the west, here, the land is bounded by the Great Roar; from what I learnt, no one lives there because the river is so wide and dangerous. There’s a possibility they might flee that way to try and evade us, and I’d recommend sending a good number of pods there once we’ve taken the main territory just to clear it, but it’s wild land, uncultivated, and they struck me as people who preferred the illusion of safety provided by stone walls.’
‘Beyond Malel?’ Pilos asked, gesturing at the crude map.
Ilandeh was shaking her head. ‘Hardly anyone lives beyond the hill, or even on its northern slope. Their territory ends abruptly and the salt pans bordering it extend almost to its base and much of the lower land is poisoned from the salt blowing onto it.’ She drew two lines, one heading up the triangle representing the hill, the other circling around to its rear before ascending. ‘If we can co-ordinate it, I recommend a pincer, but the force skirting the hill to take its northern face should set out today – it gives them time to cover the additional distance while we take the necklace of towns.’
Feather Calan leant forward. ‘Keep two Talons down here to fool them into thinking it’s our full force while the third climbs its northern slope? Can we get up high without being seen?’
‘They don’t frequent the northern slope?’ Pilos added, cautious excitement flaring in his chest.
Ilandeh grinned at them both. ‘Yes, we can, and no, they don’t. In all the moons Dakto and I were there, only shamans went onto the upper northern slope to collect medicine. They don’t farm it; they haven’t settled it. Plus, they say it’s spirit-haunted by people who died trying to cross the salt pans. The most we should encounter are shamans and maybe a few scouts. Easily dealt with.’
Pilos glanced north, as if he could see the Tokob hill through the thick canopy. ‘I like it,’ he said.
It was audacious, and they stood to lose far too many spies and assassins if they were discovered, but the urgency in his blood, and the continued wrongness of the song, reported to him each day by Citla, drove him on. He didn’t want to waste Whispers, but better them than his eagles.
‘If I may, High Feather, what about what happened to Dakto? Is there a risk that the Whispers’ loyalty might be tainted?’ Calan asked. She blushed when Ilandeh narrowed her eyes at her, but it was a valid question. Pilos gestured for the Flight to answer.
Ilandeh grimaced and shifted. ‘We don’t know that anything’s happened to my Second Flight,’ she said, her tone neutral. ‘Besides, we were in much deeper back then. We were among the Tokob for a year, tasked with making friends and earning trust by any means necessary. And during that time we were confronted with the slaughter of the holy Setatmeh and the abomination of the ejab. It would unsettle anyone. These Whispers will be in Tokob towns a matter of days, and those towns will be under assault. It’s a completely different situation.’
He nodded. ‘Do it. Flight, pick the smallest and lightest we’ve got, all genders. Get collars on them and get them out there – they’re not to take food or water with them; I want them thirsty, filthy, and vulnerable. They’re to stay a few days ahead of our front line – and any who get caught by our advance scouts get a beating. It needs to look real, and they need to be desperate to get out of harm’s way.’
‘As the High Feather commands.’
‘And the slave brands?’ Feather Calan asked. They stilled at that. Pilos watched Ilandeh; her nostrils flared but her face was smooth and blank.
‘No. Put them in sleeves or bandages. They’re to say, only if questioned, that they’re hiding their brands the better to escape the Melody. But not to mention it at all unless they have no other choice.’
Ilandeh coughed again and then exhaled raggedly. She met Pilos’s eyes. ‘Thank you, High Feather.’
He looked at them both. ‘It’s going to be bloody and I want us ready to support our Whispers. I want us taking – and holding – territory, not just the towns; we want the people and we want the harvest. Easiest way to control a population?’ he asked and looked to Calan.
The Feather grinned. It was one of the first lessons young eagles learnt when they joined the Melody. ‘Control the children; control the council. No one fights when their offspring’s at risk.’
Pilos smiled. ‘All right, we have a plan and we have a set number of days to accomplish it. We move in an hour. Under the song.’