Part 20 (1/2)
”Sir,” she said, getting to her feet and managing a less-than-snappy salute.
”At ease, Captain,” Tamas said. He looked at Abrax. Maybe they should step outside. He really didn't want to wake her. These things were best done one at a time. ”How did everything go?”
Vlora rubbed the sleep from her eyes. ”Quite well, sir. The Kez fell for our trap completely. We were able to surprise them with our offensive, while the Wings held off theirs. It was a decisive victory. It went almost exactly as you said.”
”Almost?”
”I had to improvise a few times. I've written a full report. It's on your desk.”
”I look forward to reading it.” And I better do so soon, if we're to keep up the farce that I was here the entire time giving orders myself. ”Casualties?”
”Fifteen thousand one hundred and seventy-four.”
Tamas staggered at the number. So many? That was a fourth of his army, not counting the irregulars. ”Pit,” he said.
”The regimental breakdown of the losses is also on your desk.”
”And the Kez?”
”They've retreated all the way to Fendale.”
”Their losses?”
”We can't be entirely sure yet, sir, but we estimate around ninety thousand. We've captured about twenty-five thousand.”
Tamas felt some of the tension drain from his body. ”That's significant.”
”It is, sir. Congratulations.”
Tamas allowed himself a deep breath and some hope for this war. ”Thank you for staying here.”
Vlora looked down at her feet. ”It's the least I could do after fighting to have you go after Taniel. I did the best I could.”
”I think you were equal to the task.”
”Just following your orders. Sir?”
”My mission was successful, Captain, if that is what you're asking.”
Vlora gave a none-too-subtle sigh of relief. Tamas wondered what she would feel about Taniel's declaration of love for the savage-for Ka-poel. He had advised that his son keep it under his hat for a while longer, but truth be told, Tamas didn't know what he thought of it. Not something he had the luxury to deal with right now. He glanced at the piles of papers on his desk. He would have to scour everything in there to learn the details of the battle. If Vlora had made mistakes, it would be his own fault for leaving her here alone.
”You selfish, foolish prig!”
The voice broke angrily through Tamas's thoughts. He whirled to find Abrax awake and on her feet. She advanced toward him and stopped an arm's length away and thrust a finger out. Tamas felt himself shrink back slightly. She was not a large woman by any means, but with her ire up she could be imposing. She jabbed him in the chest.
”What kind of d.a.m.ned idiocy has gotten into your head, Tamas? How could you do this to us? To me? To your entire army?”
”Do what?” he asked mildly.
She sputtered. ”You abandoned us on the eve of a decisive battle. You left a captain in charge of your army and ran off with an entire company of your best soldiers-for what?”
”For my son.”
”For one man's life! I thought you were a leader, Tamas.”
”I have responsibilities to more than just this country,” Tamas said. He could feel his initial fear turning to anger. Part of him understood Abrax's anger, but to harangue him in front of his men? To criticize him for trying, once in his life, to be a good father?
”The country is your only responsibility, Tamas. You can't afford to be a father. You gave that up years ago when you decided to overthrow your king.”
Tamas's hands shook at his side and he ground his teeth together violently. Everyone in the tent had their eyes locked on Tamas and the Wings' brigadier. Vlora looked shocked by Abrax's outburst, while Olem hovered nearby with a hand on his sword. ”I never gave it up,” he growled.
Abrax sniffed at him. ”You did.”
”We won this battle. And you're furious about it?”
”I'm furious that you risked everything. Once battle had joined, I spread the word that you returned. I personally told my officers that you would lead us to victory. Morale soared. They thought you were here, issuing every command yourself. You made a liar out of me.”
”Countries rise and fall on bigger lies than that,” Tamas said. ”And those were my orders. I had returned, and I did give you a victory.”
”Semantics!” Abrax spat.
Tamas thrust his finger at the table in the middle of the room, which was covered in his maps and notes. ”I fought the entire battle the day before it happened. And we still won.” Tamas felt a trickle of sweat go down his spine and hoped that Vlora had, in fact, been honest with how well he'd predicted the battle. ”I did all of that in a single afternoon. I fought my way across b.l.o.o.d.y Kez, through betrayal and death to get back here.” Tamas choked as he remembered the night he thought he had lost Gavril, riding hard across the plateau south of Alvation. ”I would have won this war already had I not been beset by treachery.”
”You're such a b.l.o.o.d.y genius,” Abrax said, her lips twisted in disgust. ”You can fight the rest of the war on your own. I'm going to recommend to Lady Winceslav that the Wings of Adom cancel their contract and withdraw our forces. Or what is left of them.” Abrax brushed past him and stormed from the tent before Tamas could respond.
Tamas stood in silent shock, until Olem took him by the shoulder. ”Sir?”
”I'm all right.” He stumbled to a chair and sat down. The exhaustion of months of riding, fighting, desperation, and anxiety seemed to catch up with him all at once and he found that his strength was gone. His eyelids felt weighed down by lead shot. What had he done? If the Wings abandoned him now, could he finish this war?
Someone cleared his throat.
Tamas looked up to find Inspector Adamat holding his hat, looking rather embarra.s.sed to have witnessed the fight between him and Abrax.
”In a moment, Inspector. Vlora, what were the losses to the Wings of Adom?”
Vlora s.h.i.+fted from one foot to the other. She'd not yet put on her boots, Tamas noticed absently. ”A little less than twenty thousand.”
”Ah, pit. No wonder Abrax was so angry. That's almost half of their forces wounded or killed.”
”They took the brunt of the attack, sir. Just like you planned.”
”Just like I planned. Of course.” His thought had been to let the mercenaries earn their pay. And they had, many times over, it seemed. They weren't his men. They were Abrax's, and she had the right to be furious that Tamas had used them for a millstone. ”Inspector. How did the affair with Lord Vetas go? Is your family safe?”
”Lord Vetas is dead,” Adamat said. ”And thank you for asking, sir. We were able to rescue all but”-he paused to clear his throat-”my oldest son.” Adamat looked as weary as Tamas felt. There were large black bags beneath his eyes and the little hair on his balding head was mussed from sleeping on the ground.