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___“Now, explain again why you would think that someone’s coming back?”
___Portunista tried to sigh between her gulps of air. But she couldn’t fault her ‘cowherd’ subcommander’s gentle sarcasm: after flinging on her still-moist clothes and hurtling down the stairs, she had careened into their midst as they were sitting round the firepit looking bored…and then had only had the breath to say that someone else had been here and was planning to return.
___“The grass,” she panted. Jolting from an idle joy into the shock of revelation, plus a dash downstairs—all of this was making her feel ninny-headed. Moreover, she had left them all down here with hardly anything to do, while she had been—
___“The grass…?” said Othon, prompting her.
___“The grass…” she said between her breaths, “is green…”
___“The quitchgrass?” This was Jian, arriving more sedately on the landing down the hall behind her. Portunista nodded.
___“Well,” Gaekwar drawled, “they say the grass is always greener on the other side…” She snapped a glare around at Gaekwar’s smirk; he arched his eyebrows, darting glances clearly aimed at her and Jian.
___“You didn’t seem to care about the grass last night when we were clearing out these rooms, Commander.” Dagon scowled like thunderclouds above a cliff. “I guess you’ve had a closer look since then!”
___Exhaling in exasperation, Portunista slammed a nearby door, and plunged into its room.
___Jian ambled up the hall; then he casually leaned against a wall with folded arms, and smiled lopsidedly:
___“Punkie losers need not apply.”
___Dagon ground his teeth, and clutched the pommel of his sword. “You little scratworm-colored—”
___“One thrust. One parry. No clang,” Othon rumbled. “Twice.”
___Dagon froze.
___The fair man seemed relaxed—but his hand also rested on his pommel…
___screeching—!
___—everyone jumped—
___Except for Jian.
___“I wouldn’t make her angry,” Jian advised. The screeching stopped, then started over, mixed with muttered curses.
___Portunista scrabbled backward from the room, bent over low…
___…to drag a frame of quitchgrass, in a scrape along the floor.
___She flung a hand triumphantly:
___“The grass…is GREEN!”
___“Yes, I must agree with you, Commander,” Gaekwar soberly nodded. “The grass is green. So?”
___“Hmm…” Pooralay contemplated this and stroked his chin…
___—then his eyelids snapped in shock. “Oh, spew…!”
___Seeing this on someone else’s face was worth her efforts, Portunista thought.
___The understanding dawned in Seifas, too: “They all look green and healthy.”
___“Every one,” she nodded. “Anyone who had been paying attention last night would remember it now at least,” she added, glaring at the Krygian.
___He wasn’t impressed. “So what?!”
___“How long for quitch to wither without water in the dark?” asked Portunista pointedly.
___“Uh…” Gaekwar blinked.
___“A week.” Othon now was catching on.
___“Or seven days at most,” agreed the juacuar.
___“The quitchgrass should be dead, slopings ago; but it isn’t,” Portunista said. “How long ago was it replaced?”
___“Only five to seven days,” Seifas nodded.
___“How many days have you been here?” Portunista turned to Pooralay.
___“Three. Then yest’rday, and then this mornin’ makes a week—more ‘r less. Just b’fore I got here. Blind m’ eyes…!” Then, “Wait a minute…” he muttered, and tapped his finger on his knee while he considered other implications.
___“No one else is here,” continued Portunista. “Why would they replace the quitch in sixteen rooms and then depart—unless they were expecting to return?! So, when can we expect them back?”
___“Within a day or two!” Jian was sounding quite impressed. “Perhaps today!”
___“Exactly,” Portunista said. “No point to cut new sod at all, unless you plan to use it—probably sooner than later, hm?”
___“We are inside a Cadrist Tower, though,” Dagon said. “What if Qarfax jotted something on the grass, or scribed some sigils in the frame, or something?”
___Portunista started to reply…but then she closed her mouth again.
___Berating herself, she shut her eyes, and chuffed an Yrthescrution.
___She slowly shook her head a minute later. “No, there’s nothing there that I can find,” she told them, and then she shook her head more quickly as she flushed away materia from beneath her eyelids. “I admit, a jotting may still be there—but, should we risk that someone didn’t cut the sod?”
___“It was a good idea, however,” Jian sincerely said to Dagon; who looked surly at the compliment.
___“So!—we can anticipate these people back at any time,” the maga moved along. “What else can we infer from all of this?”
___“There’s sixteen beds of ‘em, at least; maybe more if there’s some couples.” Gaekwar couldn’t help but smile.
___Portunista wasn’t amused. “Maybe more if they’re a brigade. They make their preparations, then they leave, and yet they don’t go check the unlocked room upstairs. Or if they did, they didn’t touch a thing. Did any of you notice any looting?”
___“I sure didn’t!” answered Jian, helpfully.
___The maga winced; still she added, “Me neither,” a little forcefully, “and I had lots of time to look around this morning and last night.” That wasn’t true, exactly, but it made her point. “They didn’t even take Qarfax’s rings from his remains.”
___“The pile looked just the way I left it, after slopings,” Seifas verified.
___“And yet they’re coming back. Back with who?” Portunista asked, knowing they would know.
___“A mage,” Othon said; the maga nodded.
___“Or with magi,” added Jian.
___Portunista blinked—she hadn’t thought of that… “At any rate, with someone else to further search the Tower—someone who could benefit from taking certain risks, or who would want to see the situation fresh and undisturbed. And that’s a mage—or magi.”
___“And at least as many troops again,” said Dagon sourly. “I doubt they left their mage-or-magi all alone, out in the wild, while they prepared some beds. No—there must be several times as many yet again, or else they might as well have all come here at once! And, after all the fighting in the Cadre—well, like Portunista’s saying: if we’re up against a mage, then we’ll be facing a brigade.” This earned some nods from everyone; except from Pooralay, who added:
___“An’ they’re comin’ from th’ west, across th’ ridge.” The others stared at this announcement. “Hey,” he shrugged, “I know I wouldn’t miss a buncha chunks cut outta sod, out in th’ woods. There ain’t no grass—or chunks—like that, out in th’ dell where we can see; an’ I checked round th’ treeline first when I arriv’d.”
___“I didn’t even have the time to do a treeline search.” Seifas said this with a pointedness at Portunista.
___“Well, there wasn’t any ev-i-dence along th’ line,” the thug continued. “An’ I wasn’t in a hurry to go pokin’ in th’ Tower, specially not without some signs of what was goin’ on inside. So I was quarterin’ up th’ valley ev’ry day: first th’ north, ‘cause that was where I meant t’ sleep…I mean instead of down in th’ tent. Nothin’. Checked th’ eastern side th’ next day; nothin’. I was checkin’ south when yous showed up, although I’d made a faster run-through when I got here. An’ I know yous drew a blank as well, c’rrect?”
___“Only where I wandered east and west across our path into the valley—and that wasn’t far,” the juacuar reminded him.
___“That don’t matter,” Poo insisted. “Now we’re talkin’ about a comp’ny at th’ least an’ maybe a brigade, on th’ march, an’ not too far away already, ‘cause their scouts intended to get back t’ them and then t’ lead th’ whole group to th’ Tower in a week, week-an’-a-half. Travel time, y’see: back ‘n forth. Not five-t’-seven days away. Th’ scouts were gonna meet ‘em three days out! Y’ only got here yest’rday y’rselves; an’ I know y’re smarter than to only have a jaguar scoutin’ for y’r whole brigade along y’r march. Did any of y’r scouts see anything? Nah,” he said, “or this all wouldn’t be a hairin’-out surprise. They gotta be comin’ from th’ west.”
___“Tough.” Othon stood among his blinking peers, and walked to lift the quitch-frame in the air. It took some effort.
___It took Othon some real effort!
___“Tough,” he said again, and thumped it down.
___“You mean that they were strong enough to carry those things all the way from where they cut them, back into the Tower,” Jian inferred. “Hm?” he noticed quizzical looks. “There isn’t any dirt in here, upon the floor,” he told the others absently. “Those quitch beds have some solid slats beneath them, so they wouldn’t dribble dirt as much as fresh-cut sod.”
___“Point,” the thug agreed. “An’ no such trail o’ crumblies in th’ dell. They couldn’t altogether hide th’ cuts…I’m expectin’ that we find ‘em west…but they sure ain’t dumb completely.”
___“I would call ‘em dumb!” the ‘cowherd’ said. “Or else they’re frightened of their boss. That, or they’re fanatics. It’d be a chilly day in hell before I lugged a bunch of sod in wooden boxes through a forest, ‘cross a dell, and up those stairs! Just in case you’re thinkin’ along those lines, Commander,” Gaekwar grinned.
___She rolled her eyes. “Okay,” she said. “One of you must go and bring the troops: after everything I’ve gone through here, I mean to keep this place!” she growled.
___“Wait a moment,” Seifas cautioned. “Our brigade controls the southern pass; and even though it would be hard for them to hold against a force attacking from inside the valley, this would be a much worse place for them to make a stand.”
___“Unless you’re in the Tower,” Dagon said. “And then you’ve got a serious advantage.”
___“Sure—if you’re a Cadrist in the Tower!” Gaekwar snorted. “But we can’t begin to fit the whole brigade in here! And ‘ista isn’t Qarfax.”
___“Still,” said Portunista—with a glare; she didn’t appreciate being reminded that she wasn’t so experienced…besides, she had defeated all those traps…!—“we seem to be in much the same position. If the enemy attacks us, thinking they can take the Tower from a handful of defenders, then our companies could hit them from the sides, along with higher-ground advantage.”
___“Assuming,” sniffed the Krygian, “that they’re dumb enough to never send a scouting screen.”
___“Whatever,” Portunista sighed. “Let them notice our brigade! They’ll be less encouraged to attack us with their fullest strength, and we can hold this place with fewer troops! In any case, we need to put our soldiers on alert.”
___“I’ll go,” the ‘cowherd’ volunteered, and stood to stretch. “I need a new supply of discs, and even if I thought that blasted door would work again, I’m not about to pull them from a bunch of killer birds.”
___“Hey!” Jian took out a silver kran from a pocket on his belt. “Buy me a shirt?”
___Gaekwar winked: “You won’t be getting cold at night, I think!”
___Jian shrugged and grinned lopsidedly: “I do have other things to do. A green shirt, please,” he added. “I expect I’m through with red for a while.”
___“And green won’t show up grass-stains easily!” added the lanky subcommander.
___“Gaekwar!” Portunista snapped; he jumped a little at her tone and saw her pointing at him. “You don’t leave until I sort the laboratory. You’ll be taking what I pack you with, in case we lose the Tower.” That evaporated all his smugness…!—she was tired of them discussing her in roundabouts.
___“Now wait a minute! After fooling around all morning—not inside the lab,” he added, “now you’re saying we might be under attack at any moment! We need—!”
“Nope,” she firmly cut him off. “You will stay here one hour, and I’ll have you gone by lunch. You,” she pointed next to Seifas, neatly squelching Gaekwar’s further protests. “You go scout the west; bring Othon, Dagon and the thug.”
___“They’ll see us coming, if they’re close already,” grumbled Dagon.
___“Fine—then kill them! Then they’ll know that someone’s here who means to fight, so maybe they’ll slow down and think it over, giving us more time to get our act together. Why are you still here?! Get moving!” she demanded.
___“As you wish, Commander,” said the juacuar. The others didn’t like it, but they went. Good.
___“Jian!” she turned.
___“Yes, milady?”
___Portunista momentarily lost her voice in irritation: he had promised not to call her “wife” in public, but “milady” wasn’t much improvement.
___“Jian!” she said again. “Go do…whatever…something…useful!” What could she order him to do…?
___“At once, Commander!” Briskly saluting, he spun upon his heel and promptly headed down the stairway hall. At least he seemed respectful; she suspected, though, that he was making fun…
___“Gaekwar!” barked the maga, stomping past the ‘cowherd’—
___“Coming, Midama.”
___She stopped. And turned.
___‘Dama’ was the title of a leader of an army of brigades.
___But she could see that Gaekwar wasn’t mocking her, although he smiled beneath those long stray locks of hair.
___“Be patient,” he quietly said, as he passed her with a shoulder-pat. “Whoever may be coming back, he doesn’t have our Dama. I bet on us.”
___He walked upstairs—leaving her remembering his loyalty the night before…
___…and wondering if she would ever understand a man at all.
But all three books put together would be about the length of a big Stephen King or Tom Clancy or Robert Jordan tome, so I may still omnibus them all as one big book someday.)