Lararl's ears shivered in reaction, a portion of Canim body language Tavi had never seen.
"What," Lararl growled, "do you mean?"
"It's possible that your people could be saved, sir. Some of them, in any case."
"How?"
Tavi spread his hands. "I'm not yet sure," he said. "I need more information."
"What information?"
"Everything you have regarding the war with the Vord, in every range. All of it."
Varg was also staring hard at Tavi. "What do you expect to learn?"
"I cannot tell you that."
"For what reason?" Varg demanded.
"Because among the enemy is at least one queen. The Vord queens are able to sense the thoughts of others if they can get close enough. Your Hunters have proven that it is possible to approach closely to Lararl's command by means of stealth. It is entirely possible, even likely, that the queens have been gathering information directly from the thoughts of the Shuaran officers-possibly even from your own thoughts, Warmaster Lararl."
Lararl growled in his throat, the sound pensive. "You know this enemy."
"I would not presume to say that," Tavi said. "But I know them better than you. And, for now, whatever secrets your intelligence on them might reveal is best kept safe by being locked in one location." He tapped his temple with one finger. "I believe that it may be possible to help you and your people, Warmaster. If you will extend me a measure of trust."
Lararl stared steadily at Tavi, but remained silent.
"It is obvious that simple force of arms is insufficient. We must outthink them, outmaneuver them." Tavi glanced at Varg and inclined his head slightly to one side. "As I did to Sarl in Alera."
Lararl's gaze moved to Varg. "Well?"
Varg nodded slowly to Tavi, the Aleran gesture peculiar on the Cane. "Lararl. You have said yourself that you have no way to defeat the foe. Were this range mine and these people my own, I would listen to him." He looked over at his Shuaran counterpart. "Tavar took a force of barely more than seven thousand and fought Sarl and fifty thousand conscripts, plus Nasaug's ten thousand warriors, to a two-year stalemate. Give him what he wants."
Lararl was silent for a moment more. Trumpets blew in the city, and a mounted force of several hundred Canim warriors rode their taurga toward the eastern gates of the city-an advance party for the larger infantry force that had to be preparing to march to the Shuaran interior.
The golden Cane shuddered again. Then he flicked his ears in a sharp gesture of assent, spun to face Tavi fully, and beckoned him with a curt gesture of his hand as he strode toward the door leading back into the tower. "Demon-" He paused and growled deep in his chest, baring his fangs. "Tavar. Come with me."
"Crows," Max breathed under his breath. The big Antillan took his hand from his sword. "How did you know about the Vord?"
"I guessed."
"You guessed?" Max hissed. He shook his head. "You take too many chances, Calderon."
"It was necessary," Tavi said. "Besides, I was right."
"One of these days, you're going to be wrong."
"Not today," Tavi said. "Stay here so that Crassus can make contact."
Max frowned at Tavi worriedly. Then he saluted. "Be careful."
Tavi put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Then he turned and strode down into the darkness of the tower, following Lararl.
Chapter 25~26
Chapter 25
Tavi wasn't sure how long he'd been working in Lararl's cavernous hall when the door opened and a guard, his eyes narrowed against the relative brightness of the torches Tavi had requested, admitted Kitai.
Tavi looked up from his place among half a dozen Cane-sized sand tables. They were meant to be used by a Cane squatting in a comfortable crouch, but were an awkward height for an Aleran-too tall to sit beside them, too short to be practical while standing. His back hurt. He straightened, wincing, as Kitai shut the door behind her.
"Crassus is here," Kitai said without preamble. "He was attacked by the Vord on his way back to the port. He had to circle wide of them on the way back. He's injured."
Tavi chewed on his lower lip. "How bad is it?"
"Maximus is seeing to him, but he's exhausted." Kitai walked closer and gave Tavi a calm kiss on the cheek. As she did, she whispered, "The rest of the Legion's Knights Aeris are at hand, unseen. Crassus says that the Shuarans have several thousand of Varg's people held prisoner in a camp not far from here."
Tavi smiled and kissed her cheek in return. "Tell them to stand by," he breathed in reply. "And to say nothing to Varg."
Kitai gave a slight nod and turned her eyes to the sand tables, examining each of them. Sheaves of paper lay stacked beside them, held down with simple weights made of polished black stone. "What is this?"
Tavi turned to the tables and raked his fingers back through his hair. "The Canim ranges," he replied. He pointed at one of the stacks of paper with a toe. "And reports taken from each."
Kitai frowned at the tables and pages. "You've read all of these?"
Tavi waggled his hand in a so-so gesture. "I'm not as familiar with their script as I'd like to be."
Kitai sniffed. "It's just as senseless as Aleran writing."
"Yes," Tavi said, "but I've had years to practice Aleran."
She smiled slightly. "What have you learned?"
Tavi shook his head. "Plenty. I'm just not sure what to make of it all." He pointed at the first table, where a number of small black stones and white stones marked Vord and Canim forces, respectively. They were scattered everywhere over the table. "Narash. Varg's range. They were the first to be attacked. The reports from there are the most confused and conflicting."
Kitai glanced up sharply at him. "It was intentional."
Tavi nodded. "I think the Vord established several different nests, keeping as quiet as they could for as long as they could, then attacked simultaneously, causing as much havoc and confusion as possible. From what I can tell, most of the Narashan commanders initially thought they were being attacked by their neighbors. By the time they realized the truth, it was too late."
He gestured at the next tables in succession. "Kadan, Rengal, Irgat... They all fell within the next year."
He blew out a breath to keep from shuddering. Each Canim nation had been home to a populace nearly as great as Alera's, though settled into a much smaller geographical region. Despite their armies, the dark power of their ritualists, the savagely protective nature of the Canim with regard to their territories, each of them had fallen as steadily and surely as a field of wheat before a farmer's scythe.