Trembling, Rel continued, 'The High Fist Pormqual has asked me to convey his orders to High Fist Coltaine. Admiral Nok is to leave Hissar Harbour and proceed to Aren as soon as his ships are resupplied. High Fist Coltaine is to begin preparations for marching the Seventh overland ... to Aren. It is the High Fist's desire to review the Seventh prior to its final stationing.' The priest produced a sealed scroll from his robes and set it on the tabletop. 'Such are the High Fist's commands.'
A look of disgust darkened Coltaine's features. He crossed his arms and deliberately turned his back on Mallick Rel.
Bult laughed without humour. 'The High Fist wishes to review the army. Presumably the High Fist has an attendant High Mage, perhaps a Hand of the Claw as well? If he wishes to review Coltaine's troops he can come here by Warren. The Fist has no intention of outfitting this army to march four hundred leagues so that Pormqual can frown at the dust on their boots. Such a move will leave the eastern provinces of Seven Cities without an occupying army. At this time of unrest it would be viewed as a retreat, especially when accompanied by the withdrawal of the Sahul Fleet. This land cannot be governed from behind the walls of Aren.'
'Defying the High Fist's command?' Rel asked in a whisper, eyes glittering like blooded diamonds on Coltaine's broad back.
The Fist whirled. 'I am counselling a change of those commands,' he said, 'and now await a reply.'
'Reply I shall give you,' the priest rasped.
Coltaine sneered.
Bult said, 'You? You are a priest, not a soldier, not a governor. You are not even recognized as a member of the High Command.'
Rel's glare flicked from Fist to veteran. 'I am not? Indeed—'
'Not by Empress Laseen,' Bult cut in. 'She knows nothing of you, priest, apart from the High Fist's reports. Understand that the Empress does not convey power upon people whom she does not know. High Fist Pormqual employed you as his messenger boy and that is how the Fist shall treat you. You command nothing. Not Coltaine, not me, not even a lowly mess cook of the Seventh.'
'I shall convey these words and sentiments to the High Fist.'
'No doubt. You may go now.'
Rel's jaw dropped. 'Go?'
'We are done with you. Leave.'