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people in it.
XXIV
The morning hardly dawned at all. Low, sluggish clouds plodded across the sky, cutting off all view
of the surrounding peaks. The world seemed to be folding in on itself, narrowing down its existence to
one tiny valley lost amid the mist-shrouded mountains. First Pass felt more isolated and bleak than ever.
Andretti had all his men in place by ten o'clock. The Free Council took up a position on a slight rise
near the center of the pass. On the right and left flanks, reaching almost to the walls, were Burke's picked
members of the Faithful, the delegates chosen by the 'hoods, and those 'steaders Andretti felt could be
relied on. Extending westward from the ends of his lines were the rest of the 'steaders, the representatives
of the settlers, and a number of on-lookers who had come to satisfy their curiosity or simply to be
present at what everyone felt would be an historic event. Mitsuyama and the other PlainsLords would
make up the fourth side of the rough rectangle.
At eleven, Burke's runners brought news that Mitsuyama was near at hand. A few moments later, a
light drizzle started. Andretti raised the hood on his robe with stoic resignation and stood in the midst of
his host, peering through the misty rain for a first glimpse of his enemy.
It was a good fifteen minutes before their sodden banners became visible. On a sunny day, the arrival
would have been a brave show. The brightly colored flags of the four Great Clans would have rolled and
snapped in the breeze. The devices of the individual clans that made up the Great Clans would have
fluttered gaily. But the rain, growing heavier now, smothered everything beneath its dripping weight. The
banners hung limp and motionless, their hues muted by the gloom.
A stony silence greeted the newcomers as they moved into their allotted position. Andretti watched,
soberly estimating their number and strength. Burke's information is accurate, he decided. We're equal.
So training, discipline, and timing will be the decisive factors. He looked over at Burke, who stood
hunched miserably against the downpour. The little man felt his stare and turned to acknowledge it.
Andretti moved his head in a prearranged signal. The spy nodded his understanding, then scuttled off on
his errands.
In the middle of the Plains Lord's line, Dembo stood next to Mitsuyama and covertly pointed out the
figure of the President of the Free Council. "That's him," he murmured, "right at the front of that group on
the rise. The tall, heavy one."
"The others?"
"Members of the Council. Olson's over on the right. Dubrow is behind him. It's a little hard to identify
them with their hoods up, but as near as I can tell, they're all there. The good Father must have done a lot
of fence-mending to get them all to support him like this."
The Supreme Lord of the Plain nodded and concentrated his gaze on Andretti. His eyes carefully
scanned the other man, missing nothing. He appears to be calm, Mitsuyama thought, as if meetings like
this were an everyday occurrence. But there are plenty of little hints that his coolness is feigned, a mask
to hide his true feelings. See how he picks at the seam of his robe with his left hand? Or how, he shifts his
weight unnecessarily and constantly looks here and there? Signs of a tightly controlled nervousness, an
underlying uncertainty. Yet his face is quiet, grim, determined. He may be unsure of himself, may even be
afraid of failure. But he'll never back down, never retreat an inch. He's every bit as stubborn and fanatic
as I've always thought. Which means there truly are no alternatives. We will fight. Blood will flow.
Completing his assessment of Andretti, he allowed his gaze to drift down the opposite line of men.
They looked, at first glance, much like any group of 'steaders with a Brother or Sister thrown in here
and there. But a second glance by a knowing eye revealed that these were no cloddish farmers. Trained,
every one of them. My spy was right, he decided. Andretti's packed the meeting with the Faithful,
undoubtedly those loyal to himself and the Council.
He sensed more than saw the figure that moved to his side. Looking from the corner of his eye, he
found the hooded form of Miriam. He didn't like having her here, this close to the enemy, but she had
insisted. And, in all truth, he was glad to have her sharp mind near him at this moment. At least if things
got bad, there would be time to send her to the partial safety of the reserve columns.
For several moments the two of them stood there, scanning the line of men that faced them. Then she
spoke, quietly, almost as if talking to herself. "You were right to bring the reserves and the Striders,
William. We may need them."
"Ummmm. Yes. Do you see the other one anywhere? The Seeker?"
She looked again, slowly, for several long minutes. "No" she finally responded. "Can you spot any
Seekers at all?"
He shook his head. "Of course Andretti might be holding them in reserve."
"Would they follow his orders that faithfully?"
"No," he said slowly, evaluating the possibility, "no, I don't think so."
"Then they aren't here. They've refused to play his game."
Thoughtfully he gazed up at the walls of the pass. "Perhaps they're playing some game of their own."
He turned to look for Dembo. The man was right behind him. "Dembo, have the runners from the two
columns reported yet? It nears noon."
"No, Lord. But I expect them any moment."
"Don't 'expect' them. Send two men to find out where they are."
"Yes, Lord."
William turned back to his scrutiny of the Free Council's forces. The ground to the right was rougher
than to the left. And Andretti's line there was more uneven, seemed less firm. Was it deliberate, a trap, a
planned weakness? It would certainly be harder to attack there, in any case.
What about the center? A drive there would have the most immediate effect, especially if it managed
to reach the members of the Council and particularly Andretti. Of course, there would be the danger of
flanking movements. But if we timed it right, we could actually turn that against them! If we allowed a
flank attack, even invited it, and tricked Andretti into committing his forces to it, we could fall on them
from behind with our spare columns. We could literally flank the flankers! It's risky, and requires perfect
timing, but it's certainly an unexpected maneuver, the kind that wins battles and makes men rulers of
worlds! We'll want a tighter formation. Have to pull in the ends of our line a little. That'll give us more
concentrated strength and act as a lure at the same time.
Gesturing to Dembo, he began to organize the attack plan.
Andretti watched the huddle between Dembo and his master with interest. Decided something, he
guessed. Probably his attack plan.
A hand touched his sleeve. He turned his head to his right and found himself looking into the cold
eyes of Father Olson. "Let's quit stalling and get this thing going, Andretti. I don't like the looks of it one
bit. So let's get the unpleasantness over with as soon as possible."
" 'Unpleasantness'? Don't be coy, Olson. It's a battle and you know it."
"There's no fight until it's started."
"It started when William became Supreme Lord."
"I still have hopes we can head it off short of a battle."
"That's wishful thinking of the kind Johnston used to specialize in."
"I'd rather not fight."
"I'd rather not lose!" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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people in it.
XXIV
The morning hardly dawned at all. Low, sluggish clouds plodded across the sky, cutting off all view
of the surrounding peaks. The world seemed to be folding in on itself, narrowing down its existence to
one tiny valley lost amid the mist-shrouded mountains. First Pass felt more isolated and bleak than ever.
Andretti had all his men in place by ten o'clock. The Free Council took up a position on a slight rise
near the center of the pass. On the right and left flanks, reaching almost to the walls, were Burke's picked
members of the Faithful, the delegates chosen by the 'hoods, and those 'steaders Andretti felt could be
relied on. Extending westward from the ends of his lines were the rest of the 'steaders, the representatives
of the settlers, and a number of on-lookers who had come to satisfy their curiosity or simply to be
present at what everyone felt would be an historic event. Mitsuyama and the other PlainsLords would
make up the fourth side of the rough rectangle.
At eleven, Burke's runners brought news that Mitsuyama was near at hand. A few moments later, a
light drizzle started. Andretti raised the hood on his robe with stoic resignation and stood in the midst of
his host, peering through the misty rain for a first glimpse of his enemy.
It was a good fifteen minutes before their sodden banners became visible. On a sunny day, the arrival
would have been a brave show. The brightly colored flags of the four Great Clans would have rolled and
snapped in the breeze. The devices of the individual clans that made up the Great Clans would have
fluttered gaily. But the rain, growing heavier now, smothered everything beneath its dripping weight. The
banners hung limp and motionless, their hues muted by the gloom.
A stony silence greeted the newcomers as they moved into their allotted position. Andretti watched,
soberly estimating their number and strength. Burke's information is accurate, he decided. We're equal.
So training, discipline, and timing will be the decisive factors. He looked over at Burke, who stood
hunched miserably against the downpour. The little man felt his stare and turned to acknowledge it.
Andretti moved his head in a prearranged signal. The spy nodded his understanding, then scuttled off on
his errands.
In the middle of the Plains Lord's line, Dembo stood next to Mitsuyama and covertly pointed out the
figure of the President of the Free Council. "That's him," he murmured, "right at the front of that group on
the rise. The tall, heavy one."
"The others?"
"Members of the Council. Olson's over on the right. Dubrow is behind him. It's a little hard to identify
them with their hoods up, but as near as I can tell, they're all there. The good Father must have done a lot
of fence-mending to get them all to support him like this."
The Supreme Lord of the Plain nodded and concentrated his gaze on Andretti. His eyes carefully
scanned the other man, missing nothing. He appears to be calm, Mitsuyama thought, as if meetings like
this were an everyday occurrence. But there are plenty of little hints that his coolness is feigned, a mask
to hide his true feelings. See how he picks at the seam of his robe with his left hand? Or how, he shifts his
weight unnecessarily and constantly looks here and there? Signs of a tightly controlled nervousness, an
underlying uncertainty. Yet his face is quiet, grim, determined. He may be unsure of himself, may even be
afraid of failure. But he'll never back down, never retreat an inch. He's every bit as stubborn and fanatic
as I've always thought. Which means there truly are no alternatives. We will fight. Blood will flow.
Completing his assessment of Andretti, he allowed his gaze to drift down the opposite line of men.
They looked, at first glance, much like any group of 'steaders with a Brother or Sister thrown in here
and there. But a second glance by a knowing eye revealed that these were no cloddish farmers. Trained,
every one of them. My spy was right, he decided. Andretti's packed the meeting with the Faithful,
undoubtedly those loyal to himself and the Council.
He sensed more than saw the figure that moved to his side. Looking from the corner of his eye, he
found the hooded form of Miriam. He didn't like having her here, this close to the enemy, but she had
insisted. And, in all truth, he was glad to have her sharp mind near him at this moment. At least if things
got bad, there would be time to send her to the partial safety of the reserve columns.
For several moments the two of them stood there, scanning the line of men that faced them. Then she
spoke, quietly, almost as if talking to herself. "You were right to bring the reserves and the Striders,
William. We may need them."
"Ummmm. Yes. Do you see the other one anywhere? The Seeker?"
She looked again, slowly, for several long minutes. "No" she finally responded. "Can you spot any
Seekers at all?"
He shook his head. "Of course Andretti might be holding them in reserve."
"Would they follow his orders that faithfully?"
"No," he said slowly, evaluating the possibility, "no, I don't think so."
"Then they aren't here. They've refused to play his game."
Thoughtfully he gazed up at the walls of the pass. "Perhaps they're playing some game of their own."
He turned to look for Dembo. The man was right behind him. "Dembo, have the runners from the two
columns reported yet? It nears noon."
"No, Lord. But I expect them any moment."
"Don't 'expect' them. Send two men to find out where they are."
"Yes, Lord."
William turned back to his scrutiny of the Free Council's forces. The ground to the right was rougher
than to the left. And Andretti's line there was more uneven, seemed less firm. Was it deliberate, a trap, a
planned weakness? It would certainly be harder to attack there, in any case.
What about the center? A drive there would have the most immediate effect, especially if it managed
to reach the members of the Council and particularly Andretti. Of course, there would be the danger of
flanking movements. But if we timed it right, we could actually turn that against them! If we allowed a
flank attack, even invited it, and tricked Andretti into committing his forces to it, we could fall on them
from behind with our spare columns. We could literally flank the flankers! It's risky, and requires perfect
timing, but it's certainly an unexpected maneuver, the kind that wins battles and makes men rulers of
worlds! We'll want a tighter formation. Have to pull in the ends of our line a little. That'll give us more
concentrated strength and act as a lure at the same time.
Gesturing to Dembo, he began to organize the attack plan.
Andretti watched the huddle between Dembo and his master with interest. Decided something, he
guessed. Probably his attack plan.
A hand touched his sleeve. He turned his head to his right and found himself looking into the cold
eyes of Father Olson. "Let's quit stalling and get this thing going, Andretti. I don't like the looks of it one
bit. So let's get the unpleasantness over with as soon as possible."
" 'Unpleasantness'? Don't be coy, Olson. It's a battle and you know it."
"There's no fight until it's started."
"It started when William became Supreme Lord."
"I still have hopes we can head it off short of a battle."
"That's wishful thinking of the kind Johnston used to specialize in."
"I'd rather not fight."
"I'd rather not lose!" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]