Sentry Peak Read Online Free PDF Page B

and his superior raised a curious eyebrow, inviting him to continue. He did: “I don’t expect we’ll be doing much fighting here in southern Parthenia for the rest of this campaigning season.”
    “That has something to do with what the mead-swiller who commands Avram’s army has in mind,” Edward observed, “but, on the whole, I believe you are likely to prove correct. What of it?”
    “We’re hard pressed in the east, your Grace,” James said. “By all reports, Count Thraxton will have to fall back from Rising Rock, and that’s a heavy loss. We’ve already lost Wesleyton, and Ramblerton and Luxor fell early in the war. Without any toehold at all in the province of Franklin, how can we hope to win?”
    “Sometimes the gods give us difficulties to see how we surmount them,” Duke Edward said.
    As far as James was concerned, that was more pious than helpful. He said, “By himself, I don’t see how Thraxton can surmount this difficulty. He hasn’t got enough men to hope to beat General Guildenstern. Who was it who said the gods love the big battalions? Some foreigner or other.”
    “A gloomy maxim, and one we have done our best to disprove here in Parthenia—but, I fear, one with some truth in it even so,” the duke said. “Do you have in mind some way to get around it?”
    “I hope so, sir,” James replied. “If you could send my army and me to the east, we would be enough to bring Count Thraxton up close to even in numbers with the accursed southrons. If we match them in numbers, we can beat them on the battlefield.” He spoke with great conviction.
    Duke Edward frowned—and, in frowning, did indeed look a great deal like a sorrowing saint. “I should hate to weaken the Army of Southern Parthenia to the extent you suggest. If that mead-swiller should bestir himself, we’d be hard pressed to stand against him.”
    “I do understand that, your Grace,” James of Broadpath persisted. “But he seems content to stay where he is for the time being, while Guildenstern presses Thraxton hard. If he weren’t pressing the Braggart hard, our army wouldn’t have to pull out of Rising Rock.”
    Edward of Arlington’s frown deepened. Maybe he didn’t care to hear Count Thraxton’s nickname spoken openly. Or maybe, and perhaps more likely, he just wasn’t used to anyone presuming to disagree with him. King Geoffrey was admired in the northern realm. Duke Edward was admired, loved, almost worshiped. Had he wanted the crown, he could have had it. He’d never shown the least interest. Even Geoffrey, who mistrusted his own shadow, trusted Edward.
    Earl James trusted Edward, too. But he didn’t believe Edward was always right. Usually—no doubt of that. But not always.
    “Holding our army between the southrons and Nonesuch is the most important thing we can do,” Edward said.
    Most of the duke’s subordinates would have given up in the face of such a flat statement. James, perhaps, had a larger notion of his own self-worth. Or perhaps he’d simply spent too long brooding over the maps in his own pavilion. He stuck out his chins and said, “Your Grace, we can lose the war here in Parthenia, yes. But we can also lose it in the east. If Franklin falls, if the southrons flood through the gaps in the mountains and storm up through Peachtree Province toward Marthasville—well, how do we go on with them in our heartland?”
    “Surely Count Thraxton’s men and his magecraft may be relied upon to prevent any such disaster,” Duke Edward said stiffly.
    “If Count Thraxton were as fine a soldier as the king thinks he is, if he were as fine a wizard as he thinks he is, he wouldn’t be falling back into Peachtree Province now,” James replied. “He’d have Guildenstern on the run instead.”
    One of Edward’s gray eyebrows rose again. “It would appear you are determined to do this thing, your Excellency.”
    “I am, your Grace,” James said.
    “You do realize that, even if you were sent to the east,