Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(247)

"I thought you were listed as out of action, First Spear," Tavi said.

Marcus glanced at the nearest legionare and lowered his voice until the man would not overhear. "I never held much with reading, sir."

"You able?" Tavi asked.

"Yes, sir," Marcus said. "I won't be running any races, but I can stand on a wall."

"Good," Tavi said quietly. "We'll need you."

"Sir," Marcus said. "There's no way to know if their warriors have pulled back."

"No. But it makes sense," Tavi replied. "The warriors are their nutcracker. Then the raiders come in and mop up. It saves casualties among their most effective troops and gives their raiders experience."

"It doesn't make sense," Marcus growled. "Another hard push, and they'd have finished us."

"I know that," Tavi said. "You know that. Assume that Sari and the ritualists know it as well. I don't think they want Battlemaster Nasaug to have the glory of a victory that looks too much like his own. Sari has to be the one to finish us to stay in the good opinion of the maker caste. It gives him the glory and lets him share it out to the makers. The makers have first call on the loot if they're the first ones to overrun us. Nasaug gets upstaged. Sari gets to stay popular with the makers."

"If you're right," Marcus said.

"If I'm wrong," Tavi said, "well probably catch some of those steel bolts before much longer."

The First Spear grunted. "At least it'll be quick." There was uncharacteristic bitterness in his voice.

Tavi looked at Marcus's stocky, lumpy profile for a moment. Then he said, "I'm sorry. About the prime cohort. The men of your century."

"Should have been there with them," Marcus said.

"You were wounded," Tavi said.

"I know."

"And I stood with them for you," Tavi said.

Marcus's rigid stance eased a bit, and he looked at Tavi. "I heard. After you carried me out like a lamed sheep."

Tavi snorted. "The sheep I worked with were twice your size. Rams were even bigger."

Marcus grunted. "You were a holder?"

Tavi clenched his jaw. He'd forgotten his role, again. He could blame it on his weariness, but all the same, Rufus Scipio had never been near a steadholt. "Worked with them for a while. My folks told me it was a learning experience."

"Worse trades you could learn if you mean to lead men, sir."

Tavi laughed. "I didn't plan it to happen like this."

"Wars and plans can't coexist, sir. One of them kills the other."

"I believe you," Tavi said. He stared up the long, empty stretch of bridge, rising toward its center, two hundred yards of sloping stone thirty feet across, littered with fallen Alerans and Canim alike. "We've got to last until daylight, Marcus."

"You want to push them at first light?"

"No," Tavi said. "Noon."

Marcus grunted in surprise. "We aren't going to get any stronger. The longer this fight goes on, the less likely it is that we'll be able to push them back."

"Noon," Tavi said. "You'll have to trust me on this one."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not sure that we don't have more spies in the camp. Need to know only, First Spear."

Marcus stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you," Tavi said quietly. "When we push through to the center of the bridge, I'm going to drive forward with one cohort, while the engineers work."