Valorian Read Free Page B

sarturian's lips as he retrieved the flask of wine. "You think the commanding general of the Twelfth Legion discusses his plans with mere sarturians?"
    "No, but you must have an opinion. You've been around long enough to figure out officers."
    The sarturian shifted his position and snorted. "No one understands officers. . . still, I'd say we'll pull the garrison out by late summer. The legion's supply wagons have to get over Wolfeared Pass before snow blocks the trail."
    Three of the legionnaires grinned at each other. It wasn't often they could get information out of their closemouthed sarturian, and this was a chance too good to let pass.
    Under the tree, Valorian leaned back, his heart pounding. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Breathlessly he remained still, closed his eyes, and willed the soldiers to continue talking.
    "So which way do you think we'l go home?" the short Tarn probed his leader. "North through Chadar to Actigorium or south through Sarcithia to Sar Nitina?"
    There was a long silence that dragged out until the soldiers began to think the sarturian wasn't going to reply. Finally he shrugged and said, "I'd lay my money on the southern route. It's longer than going through Chadar, but it's easier than risking General Tyrranis's political traps. He'd sell his wives to have a ful legion under his jurisdiction. If we want to get back to Tarnow without delays, we'd better go by way of Sar Nitina." He took a long swallow of wine as if to end the conversation and passed the flask on to the next man.
    "Then why are we going to Actigorium to see General High-and-Mighty Tyrranis?" asked a soldier.
    The dark-haired Tarn snickered. "General Sarjas doesn't see things as clearly as our sarturian, so he's probably sending us for the general's written permission to cross Chadar just in case he decides to go that way. Isn't that right?" he demanded.
    The sarturian cocked an eyebrow at him. "You have a big mouth, Callas."
    Callas pulled his lips into a triumphant grin. "I am right! Well, I don't care which way we march as long as we get out of those plains. Gods, I miss cities." Suddenly he noticed the fourth soldier sitting quietly across the fire, looking glum. "What about you, Marcus?" he jibed. "You haven't said a word.
    Aren't you glad to be going home?"
    "Not this way!" the older man said bitterly. "The Twelfth Legion has never retreated, and yet here we are about to abandon a perfectly good fortress and withdraw because our all-powerful emperor can't even hang on to what his father left him!"

    "Keep such thoughts to yourself, Marcus," the sarturian growled. "Talk like that can separate your head from your shoulders."
    The old soldier gestured angrily. "It's the truth and you know it! Ab-Chakan is the last occupied fortress on the plains. When it's abandoned, Tarn will lose the entire Ramtharin Plains."
    The short Tarn shook his head. "The plains have given us nothing more than grass, copper, hides, and a few miserable slaves. We can find those anywhere. Better to lose a distant, unprofitable province than our own homeland."
    "The loss of the province isn't so bad," Marcus agreed. "It's the cost that angers me—the loss of pride and honor for the legion, the loss of confidence and respect in the empire. The man who sits on the throne of Tarn is throwing away a mighty realm out of weakness, stupidity, and—"
    "That's enough!" commanded the sarturian sharply. "You don't need to shout your views across all of Chadar."
    The soldiers fel quiet. Although Valorian kept his eyes shut, he could sense their attention had abruptly turned toward him.
    "What about the clansman?" he heard one soldier ask softly. "Do we kill him or let him go?"
    "Let him go. The meat was worth his life," answered the sarturian.
    "What if he's heard everything we've said?"
    Their leader laughed a sharp sound of derision. "He's a clansman. He can't do anything about it, and the rest of the empire wil know soon enough."
    Even the sarturian's