Arts of Dark and Light: Book 01 - A Throne of Bones Read Free Page A

even on foot, but we found a hill in the woods nearby so we could see almost everything. The two tribes was camped separate, and you could see the Vakhyi’d been there for a while, because it stunk something fierce.”
    “So, did you cut yourself shaving, then?” Corvus asked pointedly.
    “Well, I was just going to say that when we was riding back about a league, we run into a foot patrol. We killed all three o’ them, but one nearly got my eye with his pigsticker. They didn’t scream or nothing, and we drug the bodies back into the woods afore we came back, so I doubt they has any idea the legion is about.”
    “I think they was Chaloni,” the other scout added. He looked alarmingly young to Corvus, even younger than his son. Corvus couldn’t recall the boy’s name precisely, but he thought it might be Faberus. “The patrol we killed, I mean. The others, the Vakhii, has always been out in fours, not threes. And there was something different about the way their hair was tied—it was kind o’ twisted.”
    Corvus nodded approvingly at the detail in the younger scout’s observations. He suspected Faberus, if that was indeed the lad’s name, would have been the one to smell the campfires first. He cast about for the older scout’s name. Was it Lacunus? No, that wasn’t it. Labeculus.
    “Very well done, both of you. Now Labeculus, back to camp if you please and straight to the medicus. Get that scratch cleaned at once. I’m not saying you’re pretty now, but you’ll be a damn sight less pretty if the rot sets in and they have to cut off half your face. Those gobbos don’t keep their spears clean, and I’m sure Faberus will be able to lead us back to them. Tell your decurion that Third Squadron is to receive double rations of meat and wine tonight.”
    Labeculus looked as if he wanted to protest being left behind, but he acknowledged the order with a sharp salute and a crisp bow. “At once, General. Thank you, General.”
    As the wounded scout turned his horse back toward the camp, his young companion gaped, seemingly astonished that Corvus knew their names.
    Corvus was amused, and he hoped Marcus was paying attention. It might be the oldest trick in the commander’s bag, but calling a soldier by name was still the most effective way to begin forging those intimate bands of iron that distinguished a disciplined fighting force from an armed mob.
    He turned toward his son, who was sitting on his horse, his expression neutral, quite properly pretending to not have noticed that his commanding officer had said or done anything at all. “Well, Tribune Valerius, as it seems our scouts have located the enemy, it now falls to us to decide precisely where we shall meet him. I assume you are prepared to assist the legate and me in this task?”
    “Yes, sir, General. I am prepared, sir.”
    Corvus smiled at his son’s steadfast refusal to meet his eyes. He was adhering firmly to junior officer etiquette, and appeared to be staring intently at something over Corvus’s left shoulder. “At your ease, Tribune Clericus. Marcus, you’re coming with me in your filial capacity, not because Saturnius has any need of his most junior tribune to help him determine what would be the most advantageous terrain.”
    “With all due respect, General,” Saturnius said, “Valerius Clericus is not my most junior tribune. That would be Trebonius.”
    “Is that so? Well, be that as it may, it appears we find ourselves on the eve of Legio XVII’s first proper battle, and I am naturally concerned about the readiness of the right wing, which will be under the command of Fortex, seconded by you, Marcus. That is enough to strike terror into any man’s heart, even if not the enemy’s, if he had known the two of you as boys. And since the shadows are not so long that we cannot ride ten leagues before sunset, I thought it might be useful for you to put some of that reading you’ve been doing in practice.”
    “I am at the