Rinda gasped.
“To make it brief, the Sem don’t really trust Guin—their precious Riyaad. At this point in our little war, our side is pushing forward. But what if the Mongauli army, which has suffered some losses but is nonetheless far better trained than these monkeys, pushes back? At all costs we have to avoid starting to fight amongst ourselves. Even when Guin is here to take command the Sem squabble over whether they will follow him or not. And now, by the pale forehead of the Moon Goddess Aeris, he is long gone!
“He said to wait for four days? Four days? Even one day is doubtful. I imagine the Sem started acting like balto cocks squabbling over territory as soon as he left. But that old monkey Loto wants to protect you. He says that you saved his granddaughter, and he feels he owes you a big obligation.” Istavan snorted derisively. “The dull ol’ Rasa will be on Loto’s side too. The problem is the Guro, those black monkeys—and the Karoi, too, now that they’ve joined the mix. Hey, those guys are actually respectable soldiers. And right now they’re starving for blood. Even I was shocked after I traveled half a day with ’em. Once their blood frenzy gets started, stopping ’em’s harder than peeling off sand leeches. I bet the Guro and the Karoi get along very well.”
Rinda gasped again.
“I am beginning to think that my return was only part of Jarn’s evil plan for me. The Karoi and Guro together are stronger than the Raku and Rasa together—and even if the Tubai came in on our side, the black monkeys are better as soldiers. I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here. After I escaped from the valley, why didn’t I steal a horse and escape from this forsaken desert? What if the Karoi and Guro decide they can’t wait any longer and start to believe more in their own chiefs, who they know can fight for them, than in long lost Riyaad?” Istavan spread his arms wide in a gesture that left the twins to imagine what would happen if that came to pass.
But Rinda wasn’t inclined to agree with Istavan’s assessment of their wildling allies.
“The Sem have only succeeded in this war because of Guin’s help!” she exclaimed. “Without his planning, they would have made a frontal attack straightaway. They wouldn’t have lasted for a single day—they would already be exterminated from Nospherus.” Rinda gestured dismissively with her hand. “And Loto’s not the only one who knows that. Tubai and Ilateli do, too. They’re not stupid! And Guin told them to wait for four days…”
Istavan shrugged doubtfully but offered no reply.
Instead, Remus burst out unexpectedly: “Rinda, Guin hasn’t exactly gained the Sem’s trust by vanishing into the desert!”
Rinda was taken aback by her brother; she had grown accustomed to him following her lead unquestioningly. She stared at him intently, as if she could read in his face what had changed, and he blushed self-consciously. “My, my,” she said, “since when have you become so wise?”
“The prince can see what’s right in front of him,” Istavan cut in brusquely, emerging from a moment of contemplation. “Anyway, if Guin can make it back here a day early—or even half a day—it shouldn’t be a problem. But if the time comes and he doesn’t show, we will soon be fighting for our lives. And if something else cajols the Sem into fighting amongst themselves before then, it will be a terrific opportunity for the Mongauli…
“And then of course there are the monsters of the desert, which might take things into their own hands—or jaws—at any moment. Sand leeches, yidoh, vampire moss, mouths-of-the-desert… And to think that he’s out looking for something that nobody knows how to find! Or maybe Guin does know how. Or maybe not. I wonder…”
“Oh, please stop it! I beg you!” Rinda raised her clenched hands as if to cover her ears. “Please don’t talk about the sand leeches and the yidoh. What if something has happened to Guin? Then we have no choice but to die here—don’t you understand that?”
“Rinda!”
Remus embraced his sister, and the two clung together, comforting each other even as they shared their fears. For a long while Istavan gazed at them in silence. His dark and playful eyes had changed, reflecting some inexplicable mystery; behind them a plan was forming.
“Of course I know that. You don’t have to say it,” the mercenary whispered at last, his voice taking on a tone the twins had never heard before. Perhaps he was thinking about the two thousand soldiers and one gray-haired old knight that he had betrayed to death, who had died screaming his false name—died in fire and agony, swearing they would never forgive him. He noticed that the twins were looking at him strangely and mumbled something about not feeling like himself before disappearing towards the opposite side of the oasis. Remus and Rinda watched him go without another word.
Despite Istavan’s dire predictions, and the twins’ ever-growing worries, little more happened that day. Guin did not return, and there were no enemy attacks. In fact the day was unusually calm, and the desert did not seem like the battlefield it had become.
The air grew very hot and still, as if the sandstorm that had passed earlier had taken every breath of movement with it. As the sun rose higher the heat grew steadily worse. There was no sign of a breeze, and the Sem, gathered around the oasis pools, dully soaked their feet and hands. The children and the elders had been sent into shelter to the north, so there were no longer any youngsters running around playing their wildling games. Rinda and Remus kept company with Suni, and together the three rested in the limited shade of the oasis trees, trying to escape from the heat. When the sun finally set and the temperature cooled with characteristic desert swiftness, everyone was relieved. Yet it wasn’t long until the pleasant evening coolness had turned to uncomfortable cold—another hallmark of the unique Nospherus climate.
The chieftains of the Sem had all grown quiet and surly, isolating themselves from one another. The hostile mood of the Karoi seemed to have infected them all, and spread in an unfriendly wave among them. Now the wildlings of each tribe avoided associating with members of the other tribes and seemed reluctant even to talk with their own elders and leading warriors. The Karoi themselves—though they had ostensibly come to ally themselves with the rest of the Sem—were the worst of all. They seemed to simmer with ferocity, as if ready to unleash new atrocities at any moment, and even Loto wouldn’t get close to them.
This was the state of the Sem army at nightfall. The mixed horde of wildlings, with no overall leader, had lost all semblance of being a unified force. The different tribes had withdrawn into separate parts of the encampment, where they gathered aimlessly, ate simple food, and slept deeply without bothering to post sentries. After a quiet day, and without Guin to lead them, the Sem had quickly grown slack.
So it was that no one noticed when a squad of Mongauli scouts quietly approached the oasis, drawn by the brilliant glimmer of the water reflected in the night sky. The squad stopped cautiously at a distance, and just two or three scouts separated from the main group and crept forward stealthily. They seemed no more than shadows in the darkness, but these were watchful shadows that moved in as close as they dared to the oasis and carefully observed the dispositions of the Sem. Then they slipped back to the squad and were reabsorbed. Tense, whispered voices carried out a quick conversation; the soldiers quietly retraced their footsteps back the way they had come until they had reached a sufficient distance from the sleeping Sem, at which point they galloped headlong all the way back to the Mongauli camp.
The scouts’ report was exactly what the Gohran army had been waiting for. The Mongauli ranks parted to make a lane down which the triumphant squad marched to the general’s pavilion to make its report. The information they bore had already been sent to Amnelis before the procession arrived, and she was waiting for them just inside the pavilion entrance dressed in full regalia for the coming battle—white gloves, a matching belt, and a long mantle flung back over the shoulders of her gleaming armor. Her lips were taut, and she held her joy in check as she listened to the report.
“This is good news,” she said at last. “Feldrik! Carry me a message!”
“Taking the field, I presume,” the knight replied and dashed away.
For a moment Amnelis remained gazing at the leader of the scouting squad. She seemed on the verge of making some extended speech, but simply said:
“This is a glorious achievement, Astrias!”
“Yes, my lady.”
Astrias' whole body was shaking with emotion. But when he raised his eyes, the general was already striding away.
Moments later Feldrik was addressing the gathered invaders while Amnelis, resplendent, looked on. “Army of Mongaul! Prepare for departure! Our goal is the army of the Sem, encamped in an oasis to the northeast!”
The knight’s voice was husky as he continued the general’s message.
“We shall launch a surprise attack before sunrise!”