.IX.

Siddar City, Republic of Siddarmark

Greyghor Stohnar’s face was more deeply lined than ever.

The relief he’d felt when the Charisian food shipments arrived, the knowledge that the Charisian Expeditionary Force, as everyone had begun calling it, was en route from Chisholm, the enormous convoy loaded with weapons and munitions which would be arriving soon—all of it had helped ease the crushing burden of the winter just past. But the information coming in from the western provinces over the past three five-days seemed to mock the false hope those earlier reprieves had offered.

The army moving out of Lake City had swung one hook up into Icewind, clearly bent on crushing resistance in that lightly inhabited province, and the Icewinders who’d remained so stubbornly loyal to the Republic were fleeing for their lives. The province’s Temple Loyalists were openly celebrating the Army of God’s advance … and all too frequently ambushing their fleeing neighbors, or burning their houses behind them. The refugees were headed for Salyk, the province’s one real town, on Spinefish Bay, and at least transport galleons and warships of the Charisian Navy were available to lift them out by the thousand. Charisian seamen, the Icewind militia, and the handful of Marines remaining to the ICN galleons were going ashore in Salyk as well, and many of the fittest locals were assisting in the construction of the entrenchments going up around the town. It was possible they’d be able to hold Salyk—at least until the winter ice drove the navy out of Spinefish Bay—but all of the rest of the province would be in enemy hands by the end of July at the latest.

Nor was that all the bad news coming out of Tarikah. The second, and far more powerful, column from Lake City was driving hard down the Hildermoss River in barges, traveling at almost fifty miles a day along the river even against the current and obviously heading for the city of Guarnak and the Sylmahn Gap. According to their reports, Bishop Militant Bahrnabai was personally leading that column, and he should reach Guarnak before the end of the month.

Yet Bishop Militant Cahnyr Kaitswyrth’s equally powerful army was almost worse. It was driving south along the Sair-Selkyr Canal towards the Daivyn River to link up with the Temple Loyalists who’d seized control of Westmarch over the winter, and none of their spies had predicted that. It clearly intended to hammer its way across the border into Cliff Peak from the north while the Dohlarans hooked up from the south to meet them and then—almost certainly—turn east and drive into Glacierheart, as well. Kaitswyrth was headed for the East Glacierheart mountains; if he took them, Glacierheart would be gone and there’d be no way in the world to save the loyal portions of Shiloh, either. And within only a few more days, Desnairian troops out of Silkiah would cross the Somyr River, moving between the Salthar Mountains and Lake Somyr into the South March, while an even vaster Harchong army, over a million strong, was marshaling in harbors and embarkation points all around the Gulf of Dohlar.

It was small wonder, Merlin thought, that a man who’d been a lifelong military professional should look at those odds and quail. Nimue Alban had seen even worse odds as the Gbaba tightened their noose around humanity’s home star system, but that was very little comfort, given how that campaign had turned out in the end.

“The arms convoy from Charis will be entering North Bay sometime day after tomorrow,” Daryus Parkair said, glancing through the notes he’d prepared for the daily briefing. “And according to the dispatch boat that arrived last night, Duke Eastshare should reach us a day or so after that.” He looked up from his notes. “That’s going to be a major increase in our combat power.”

“I know, Daryus,” Stohnar said. “And don’t think for in instant that I didn’t spend quite a while on my knees thanking Langhorne for it, but compared to the threat.….” He waved his hand at the huge map table and the tokens advancing ominously across the Republic. “And glad as I’ll be to see the Duke and his troops, they’ll be here, in Siddar City, a hell of a long way from Cliff Peak or even the Sylmahn Gap.”

“True,” Parkair agreed. “But at least the damage those idiots did to the canals in their own rear delayed them for almost a full month. Anybody who could pull a stunt like that is probably capable of fucking up in any number of other ways, as well.”

“Now there, Daryus, you have a point,” Stohnar acknowledged with a poison-dry smile. He looked down at the map for several more seconds, then raised his eyes to where Cayleb stood on the other side of the table.

“I hope you realize I meant every word about my gratitude, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, and Cayleb nodded.

“I do. And I also realize why eighty thousand men doesn’t seem anywhere near enough. After all,” the emperor snorted harshly, “they aren’t. Unfortunately, they’re all we’re going to have for at least another several months.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry to say it, but it’s going to take us at least that long to get the transports we need to eastern Chisholm and then to the mainland. And I’m even sorrier to say that once we lift the rest of the troops from Maikelsberg and Port Royal, we’ll have scraped the bottom of the barrel. Building an army big enough for mainland campaigns had to take second place to building a navy that could keep mainland armies out of the islands, I’m afraid.”

“I understand.” Stohnar looked back down at the map. “And from what Brigadier Taisyn said—and what I saw with my own eyes, for that matter—eighty thousand Charisians will be a hell of a handful for the Army of God. We just can’t get them to enough places fast enough. Not without Shan-wei’s own luck, at any rate.”

“I’m not sure there is a way, My Lord, however lucky we are,” Merlin said quietly from where he stood at Cayleb’s shoulder. “I think we can probably get a column to the Sylmahn Gap in time, and the rifles in the weapons convoy will let you put eighty thousand riflemen of your own into the field as soon as you can get the new regiments stood up and trained. But even having said that—”

He paused, drew a deep breath, and shook his head.

“My Lord,” he said even more quietly, looking up from the map and meeting Stohnar’s eyes levelly, “Cliff Peak is gone. You’re right. We simply can’t get anyone there to stop it.”

He didn’t mention what had happened to Colonel Mahldyn’s regiments, or what had already happened to a half-dozen other garrisons that hadn’t been able to retreat fast enough. Stohnar didn’t have to know about that; in fact, Merlin wished he didn’t know, given what had happened to most of those “heretics and blasphemers” when they fell into the hands of Mother Church’s loyal sons.

There was silence in the map room as the words were finally said. Then Stohnar straightened his back slowly, his mouth grim … and nodded.

“You’re right, Seijin Merlin. And it’s time we admitted it.” That grim mouth smiled without becoming one bit less grim. “That’s one of the hardest lessons for any soldier—to learn you can’t waste resources reinforcing failure … no matter how desperately the men holding those positions are depending on you. God help them.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and signed Langhorne’s scepter. Merlin’s mouth tightened as he saw the gesture, but he couldn’t fault the sentiment behind it.

“If Cliff Peak’s gone,” Stohnar said, opening his eyes once more, “then reinforcing Archbishop Zhasyn and Brigadier Taisyn in Glacierheart becomes even more important. If Kaitswyrth punches through to the East Glacierhearts and the Clynmarh Hills, he’s got a cakewalk into Shiloh. Or he could keep driving straight east, up the Siddar.”

“I think even the Army of God is going to find it’s bitten off a mouthful big enough to choke a dragon,” Cayleb said. “And it’s going to get worse for them the farther east they come. In the western provinces, they can count on having the majority of the population on their side, since the Temple Loyalists already have overall control. But as they come east, they’re going to start running into civilians who didn’t think the ‘Sword of Schueler’ was such a wonderful idea, and there are a lot of people in the Republic, My Lord.” He swept one hand in an arc from Midhold to Trokhanos. “If they actually get this far east, they’ll discover that even a million men aren’t nearly enough to occupy that much territory.”

“Maybe not,” Stohnar said grimly. “That doesn’t mean they won’t try, and it doesn’t mean they won’t kill thousands or even hundreds of thousands of my citizens doing it. Shan-wei! They’ve already killed millions without even firing a shot of their own!”

Merlin nodded, although he knew Cayleb had a valid point. The Church in general—and Zhaspahr Clyntahn, in particular—had no real concept of what it would take to suppress a deep-seated resistance in a population the size of Siddarmark’s. No Safeholdian realm had ever had to make the attempt, and the Church’s “occupation” had never even been challenged before. Merlin, on the other hand, did realize what a challenge that entailed, and so did Cayleb, thanks to his access to Owl’s history banks. Napoleon’s experience in Spain came to mind … as did Adolf Hitler’s in the Soviet Union. An army could bleed to death far more quickly than anyone might believe when stretched too far under those conditions. But Stohnar had an equally valid point. The cost to the civilians would be even higher than to the occupying force.

And, he admitted, looking down at the enormous sweep of territory Cayleb’s gesture had taken in, there’s no point denying that Clyntahn has something Napoleon and Hitler didn’t—a political program which could actually generate popular support … especially if the alternative is the Punishment of Schueler.

That was the true Achilles’ heel of a purely military occupation. Without some political or ideological or economic—or religious—basis for garnering the support of the occupied, the occupiers had to have a huge ratio of force to space. But with such a basis, all the military really had to do was keep a lid on the situation while the pressure to reach an accommodation worked. That, after all, had been Charis’ policy in Corisande, where Reformist sentiment had worked for it, and overall, the policy had worked well. And for all Zhaspahr Clyntahn’s twisted ambition, and all the rest of the vicarate’s cupidity, the basic faith of Safehold was stronger than bedrock. If Clyntahn could simply restrain his own need for vengeance, or even just slake it once and then back off, that faith could very well begin working for the Church once more.

And at the rate they’re moving, they’ll have lots of territory for it to start working for them in, too, he thought bitterly. In fact—

His brain paused in midsentence and his eyes narrowed suddenly as another thought hit him. He had no idea where it had come from, and it had to be one of the most insane thoughts even he had ever had. And yet, if it was even remotely possible—

“I didn’t mean to suggest an occupation wouldn’t be a disaster for your people, My Lord,” Cayleb said. “I was simply observing that they’re going to have to begin deploying garrisons and protecting their communications, and that’s going to gradually erode the strength they can deploy forward.”

“That’s true enough,” Stohnar acknowledged.

“I don’t want to suggest making any definite troop commitments until we’ve had a chance to discuss it personally with Duke Eastshare,” the emperor continued. “I do think, though, that we’re going to have to think in terms of splitting the first wave of the Expeditionary Force. It’s organized into three brigades, but I think we should split the third brigade and use it to reinforce the other two, Then we send one of the reinforced brigades to the Sylmahn Gap and the other to Glacierheart. As far west in Glacierheart as we can get them, at any rate. We’ll have the second echelon coming in in a few more five-days to provide us with a reserve, so let’s push everything we have now as far forward as we can.”

Stohnar’s mouth tightened again, but he nodded heavily.

“If Kaitswyrth keeps moving this fast, we’ll be lucky to get troops as far west as Saint Maikel’s of the Snows before they run into him,” he acknowledged, his voice bitter.

“There’s another point or two I’d like to bring up, if I may,” Merlin said, and the others looked at him.

“Certainly, Seijin,” Stohnar invited.

“Thank you, My Lord. My first point is that because of the way they were deployed, Duke Eastshare’s troops were still equipped primarily with muzzle-loading flintlocks when he started them moving. The weapons convoy will provide enough Mahndrayns to reequip his entire force with breech-loading caplocks and also a significant increase in his artillery. It would take a day or so to mate them up with the new equipment, and I realize we need to get troops to both the Sylmahn Gap and Glacierheart as quickly as possible, as His Majesty says, but believe me, holding them here in Siddar City long enough to draw the Mahndrayns, much less the artillery, would at least double their effectiveness.”

Stohnar looked a little dubious, but Cayleb nodded firmly.

“At least that much, My Lord,” he said. “Merlin’s right about that.”

“I doubt waiting one more day would make that much difference in getting them to the front,” Stohnar agreed. Then he snorted. “Not to mention that they’re your troops, Your Majesty. I suppose that gives you at least a modest voice in where and when they’re deployed.” He looked at Merlin. “Consider your point accepted, Seijin Merlin. You said you had another?”

“Two more, actually, My Lord. The next one is that it’s going to take at least several five-days to train your own troops to use the additional rifles from the convoy properly, and there are other weapons they’re going to have to master as well. I don’t think we’re going to be able to get even your existing regiments rearmed, retrained, and into combat before the end of August. The new ones will take even longer.”

Stohnar’s expression was bleak, but not because he could dispute what Marlin had just said. The Republican Army was sticking with its existing unit structure, rather than try to adopt some new and foreign organizational basis in midcampaign. And Stohnar and Parkair were raising dozens of new regiments, built around whatever cadre of regulars and experienced militia they could spare. The rifles being shipped to Safehold would permit them to field thirty pure-rifle regiments, unburdened by pikes, but as Merlin had just said, raising them and training them were two different things. Both the lord protector and his seneschal were too experienced to send men into combat before they were ready. Unfortunately.…

“I agree with your analysis, Seijin,” Stohnar said somberly, “and I know the kind of casualties half-trained troops take. But I don’t think we have a choice. I have every faith in the combat power of your Army, but even if they can annihilate ten times their own number of the enemy, they simply can’t cover enough space. We’re going to need every man we can throw at them if just to slow them down. And we need to slow them down. If we can, we need to stop them, hold them no more than a couple of hundred miles farther east than the area they already control until winter sets in, but if we can’t do that, we have to at least slow them. If that means committing the new regiments before they’re fully trained, then we’ll just have to do that, too.”

“I agree about the need to slow them down, My Lord,” Merlin said. “But that brings me to my final point. One that only occurred to me a minute or so ago, actually.”

“Really?” Cayleb regarded him intently.

“Really, Your Majesty,” Merlin assured him with a slight smile. “It should have occurred to me earlier. For that matter, with all due respect, it should’ve occurred to you, too.”

“Well, if I should’ve thought of it, I suppose I’m grateful you’ve admitted that you should have, too,” Cayleb said dryly. “Could you, by any chance, share this new thought of yours with us?”

Something suspiciously like a chuckle came from the general direction of Daryus Parkair, despite the grimness of the mood, and Merlin half bowed to Cayleb.

“Certainly, Your Majesty. I was just thinking about the very point the Lord Protector’s raised—that we have to slow them down. And that reminded me that once upon a time, a very wise man told me that amateurs study tactics but professionals study logistics. I think we’ve been guilty of focusing on tactics to an extent that’s blinded us to other possibilities for slowing them down.”

“What sort of possibilities, Seijin?” Stohnar asked, his eyes intent, and Merlin smiled. It was a cold, sharp, somehow hungry smile, and his sapphire eyes gleamed.

“I’m glad you asked me that, My Lord,” he said.