Hell's Foundations Quiver (59 page)

“That being the case,” Maigwair resumed, “and assuming Stohnar and Cayleb are at least smart enough to pour piss out of a boot—which I believe they've demonstrated is the case—they're going to build up their troops in the Gap and move fresh troops up to Fairkyn, and as soon as the ice melts they're going to use their damned navy to open a new, short supply line up the Ice Ash. And as soon as the weather's good enough for the Siddarmarkians, they're going to close in on Guarnak from the south and from the east, and Green Valley's position at Five Forks's going to mean there's nowhere Wyrshym can go.”

“So we're going to lose his entire army the same way we lost the Army of Shiloh?”

The question came out more harshly than Duchairn had intended, and Maigwair's eyes flashed for a moment. But then he shrugged.

“If he stands where he is, yes. That's exactly what's going to happen. The only way to prevent it—the only way to save
some
of his army—is for him to start moving units back through Hildermoss and Westmarch.” The Captain General met the Treasurer's eyes again, unflinchingly. “He doesn't have the transport to move anywhere near all of his men that far cross-country. At best, I estimate he might get sixty to seventy percent—
maybe
as much as seventy-five percent—of the Guarnak garrison out, but to do that, he'd have to sacrifice the rest of that garrison and everyone he's got holding Saiknyr. And it would automatically write off Nybar's detachment at Fairkyn. But Fairkyn's already gone, for all intents and purposes, and if Wyrshym doesn't start falling back now—immediately—he's not going to get anybody out, Rhobair.”

“What about the Harchongians?”

“Yes, that
is
an interesting question, isn't it?” Maigwair scowled. “Baron Falling Rock's moving forward along the canal, exactly the way Rainbow Waters promised Gustyv he would. He's moving a little faster than Rainbow Waters estimated, too. But even so, he's barely into Usher by now; he's still a long way from Lake City, far less Five Forks. We've got around twenty thousand of our own men already garrisoned in and around Lake City, but even that's six hundred miles away by the shortest route. At this point, I'm afraid the best thing we can do with Falling Rock's army is to reinforce
Lake City
. If the heretics get their damned ironclads back into Spinefish Bay and head south along the Hildermoss at the same time they're moving north from Five Forks.…”

Duchairn nodded slowly, and Maigwair turned back to the window.

“And then there's Kaitswyrth,” he said over his shoulder, never looking away from the snow. “He's heard about Five Forks, too, and he's heard about what Hanth's doing to Rychtyr along the Sheryl-Seridahn. His ‘patrols' are a piss-poor excuse for the sorts of patrols the heretics send out, especially this time of year, but he's insisting there are over a quarter million men ready to attack him any moment now. Frankly, the tone of his reports is panicky enough I'm disinclined to believe his estimates, but I've got damn-all from any other source to confirm that. For all I
know,
he might even be right. On the other hand, nobody's captured any critical depots in his rear. His supply line down the North Daivyn's still secure, which means his line of retreat
up
the North Daivyn is also secure … and that the Mighty Host could relieve him a lot sooner than it could get to Guarnak. And if worse came to worst, he ought to be able to retreat up a shorter, intact river line faster than even Eastshare could follow him up.”

“And as long as he holds his current position, any troops who manage to retreat through Hildermoss could reinforce him?”

“Of course they could. And if I had my way, Wyrshym would relieve him in command as soon as he got there.”

Duchairn nodded again. Not that it was likely to happen. Even if Maigwair was allowed to pull out as much of Wyrshym's army as possible, Zhaspahr Clyntahn remained stubbornly unwilling to acquiesce in replacing a onetime favorite like Kaitswyrth—even if Kaitswyrth hadn't exactly covered himself with glory the previous summer. The Grand Inquisitor was even more unlikely to agree to replacing him with a “defeated” commander he'd never fully trusted in the first place.

“All right,” he said finally. “I think I've got the picture, Allayn, and I promise I'll do what I can to support you. I can certainly point out how grim Wyrshym's logistical position is now that we've lost Five Forks. And everything else you've said makes good sense to me.”

Maigwair turned to face him again, and the Treasurer saw the same recognition in the Captain General's bitter gaze. What made good sense to
them
might not make the same sort of sense to Zhaspahr Clyntahn. In a reasonable world, the united front of the Army of God's commander and its quartermaster ought to carry more weight than the passion and fury of the Grand Inquisitor. In the world they actually had, however.…

It's the two of us against Zhaspahr on this one,
Duchairn thought grimly.
Zahmsyn's collapsed completely where anything remotely connected to the military's concerned since we found out about the Army of Shiloh. The news out of Geyra and Malyktyn aren't doing anything to stiffen his spine, either. I think he can see what's coming from Desnair, and he figures Zhaspahr's going to lay that at
his
door, since he's Chancellor.

The Treasurer grimaced at the direction of his own thoughts. There'd been times he would cheerfully have cut Trynair's throat for his part in enabling this madness, and the Chancellor's total lack of moral courage was enough to turn his stomach. But there was no point pretending Trynair was going to change course now. And, in some ways, given the alternatives, it was hard to blame the other man. At the same time, he was a vicar of Morth Church. That meant he had
some
responsibilities to God and God's children, and—

Duchairn cut off that line of thought and inhaled deeply.

He was already frightened of Zhaspahr
, he reminded himself
. Now that the Inquisition's officially taken over all the “security functions” here in Zion from the Temple Guard, Zahmsyn's too terrified to cross him over
anything
, and not without reason, to be fair. Zhaspahr's never been what anyone might call “reasonable,” and it's getting a hell of a lot worse. He's not telling us everything, either. He never did—Allayn's got a point about his “downplaying” inconvenient bits of news—but it's been five-days since he gave us any kind of progress report on the holding camps. That's a sort of report in its own right, given the way he's always gloated over them in the past. I don't believe him when the says Rayno's making progress against the Fist of Kau-Yung, either, and I'm damned well sure those propaganda broadsheets worry him one hell of a lot more than he's willing to admit!

Zhaspahr Clyntahn's belief in the iron rod and the power of terror was how this years-long nightmare had begun in the first place. What he'd never believed, in the beginning at least, despite whatever reverses he might encounter along the way, was that he could actually
lose
. Whatever might happen in the short term, in the long term victory had been certain, and with it the destruction of all those enemies, real or imagined, who'd dared raise their hand against Mother Church … and him.

But now, for the first time, Mother Church no longer faced simply one more failure to crush Charis and the schism for him. Now she was face-to-face with the very real possibility that
they
would defeat
her
 … and with her, Zhaspahr Clyntahn. Duchairn doubted the Grand Inquisitor was prepared to admit that even to himself and even now, but beneath anything he might be willing to face openly, the uncertainty, the doubt—the fear—was like acid gnawing its way through the armor of his arrogance.

And because it is, he's getting more and more desperate … and fanatical
, the Treasurer thought
. Any suggestion—any
hint 
—that we have to give ground, even temporarily, is automatically unacceptable to him. So how in Langhorne's name do we make him see reason
now?

*   *   *

“The whole idea's ridiculous!” Zhaspahr Clyntahn snapped, his heavy jowls mottled with fury. “Wyrshym's not even under
attack
, and you already want him to
retreat?!
Never!”

“Zhaspahr, Allayn's explained it to you in the simplest possible terms.” Duchairn kept his tone as reasonable as he could. “It's not a matter of
wanting
him to retreat; it's a matter of saving what we can.”

“
Dragon shit!
” Clyntahn slammed one meaty hand on the polished table then glowered around the council chamber, the power of his wrath filling the air like curdled thunder. “That's dragon shit! You want him to abandon his position, give up almost everything we gained in last year's campaign—
that's
what you want!” His lips worked as if he wanted to spit. “That's defeatism. That's abandoning the Jihad, handing victory to God's own enemies! If you think I—if you think the
Office of Inquisition
—is going to stand by and see that happen, you are
sadly
mistaken, Rhobair!”

“No one's being defeatist,” Allayn protested. Which, Duchairn reflected, was less accurate than he might have preferred. “I want to
preserve
Wyrshym's army and add it to Kaitswyrth's, Zhaspahr! Assuming Kaitswyrth's estimates of the heretic forces massing against him are remotely accurate, he's going to need all the reinforcements he can get, and Wyrshym's too far forward for us to support him. I know you don't want to give up the ground he's taken, but we need to … readjust our own positions. Let me do that. Let Rhobair finish reequipping our Army, as well as the Harchongians, with the new rifles and the new artillery. Let Dohlar rebuild at least some of its strength. For that matter, Harchong's already raising another five hundred thousand men to add to the mix and the Emperor's promised still more! Once we've done that, we'll be in a position to resume our own offensive without worrying about shattered supply lines and armies we can't even feed.”

“No,” Clyntahn said flatly, and his eyes were slits of rage. Zahmsyn Trynair sat silent, eyes on the table, face pale, and the Grand Inquisitor glared at the other two members of the Group of Four. “Wyrshym is staying right where he is.”

“Zhaspahr, I'm Mother Church's Captain General,” Maigwair said, meeting that glare. “And this is a military decision.”

“It's only
partly
a ‘military decision,'” Clyntahn sneered. “If you pull back Wyrshym, you expose all of Inquisitor General Wylbyr's camps. You give up all the territory we've reclaimed for Mother Church—territory the
Inquisition
, not the Army, is responsible for restoring to God. You abandon your responsibilities
as
Captain General at the time of God and the Archangels' greatest need in the world since the War Against the Fallen itself!
That's
what happens if you order Wyrshym to retreat, Allayn. Are you prepared for the consequences if you betray God Himself that way?”

Maigwair had gone almost as pale as Trynair. He refused to back down, but his gaze flicked sideways to Duchairn, and Clyntahn turned those furious eyes upon the Treasurer.

“I'm tired of hearing complaints about why we can't do this, and why it's impossible for us to do that, and how we can't possibly sustain Wyrshym where he is,” the Inquisitor said flatly. “If a quarter of the effort you've spent explaining all the reasons for all the things we've failed to do, or we're still unable to do, had been spent
solving
the Shan-wei-damned problems in the first place, we wouldn't be in this mess! Well, if the Army and the Treasury aren't prepared or able to do their duty, the Inquisition's prepared
and
able to do its, no matter who it has to call to account!”

Duchairn felt the moment humming in the council chamber's air as the iron gage of Clyntahn's challenge hit the floor, and the need to take it up burned in him like a fire. It was time—it was far
past
time—to reclaim the vicarate and Mother Church herself from the likes of Zhaspahr Clyntahn. And yet—

The Treasurer never broke eye contact with the Inquisitor, but his mind saw the guards in Schuelerite purple standing outside the chamber's door and the other inquisitors seeded throughout Zion and the Temple. If he let this moment pass, if he and Maigwair didn't defy Clyntahn now, when all sanity was so overwhelmingly on their side, the Grand Inquisitor's control would become absolute. But if they
did
defy him he wouldn't hesitate to have them arrested and turn both of them into examples. It wouldn't be the first time he'd murdered fellow vicars to make a point, and the public execution of the only two members of the Group of Four willing to confront him would make him, not the nonentity sitting on the Grand Vicar's throne, the unchallenged dictator of Mother Church.

Face him!
a voice cried out deep inside.
Face him
now,
because if you don't, you may never have another chance! Why have you been making preparations all this time if you're never going to
use
them?

But that was the problem, wasn't it? He
had
made preparations, and he knew their strength, knew how deep they went, yet he also knew they relied not on weapons of war or the might of legions. They were no match for Clyntahn in a direct confrontation, especially not since the Inqusition's imposition of outright control over the city of Zion and all its guardsmen.