The Adabans looked around at the absence of people, mines, farms, or anything productive; the similar lack of fortifications, even a checkpoint on the border; and the sheet of grass interrupted only by perfectly straight trees and not a single road conducive to the movement of armies. “For what reason?” all three asked together.
Yurvitas frowned at them. “They're fighting for the privilege of calling themselves Hacanthu. Am I the only one capable of listening in this bizarre world? Do I have a hidden class ability?”
“Ah, the motive for the campaign is clear,” Dirant assured him. “It is the imminent battle which is subject to skepticism. Certainly the scouts must encounter each other, and that will be the extent of it if the commanders control their troops and are not merely at their head. That is a common situation certainly.”
Torn between embarrassment over misunderstanding the question and condescension toward Adabans who thought of nothing but war, Yurvitas said “Oh” and let the matter drop. The fairies meanwhile comported themselves in the manner of children leaving their first professional music performance. They joined together in reprising everything they had just heard and sometimes breaking away to run a lap, their excitement impossible to suppress had they wished to do so. Exotic ideas such as scouting and maneuver created in their minds new conceptual areas, much as a youth who gets his pay for the first time must find a place to put his wealth and has more pleasure from that than all the subsequent income he brings in, however larger.
That was one way to pass the time before the battle. Nobody wanted to move before it took place, and those adamant it would not take place nevertheless thought armies better avoided by the civilian who had nothing to sell. The humans sat down to rest and occasionally called out a martial term such as “ambuscade” or “debouch” for amusement, both theirs and the fairies'.
Two armies did appear, though if not for the magnificence of their shining arms and personal appearances they would have been better described as gangs. They marched in no good order, and neither did the soldiers share any principles regarding their equipment. A scattered few wore armor, and though a historian informed of the spectacle would surmise those fairies belonged to the set of those financially capable of outfitting themselves, any fairy expert would agree they did it for wholly aesthetic reasons.
After looking over the eighty or so fairies in each force, Wiuyo made what may have been a dismissive gesture. It resembled to the humans the act of shoving away an unfavorable contract at least. “This is a vacation, not a skirmish. Neither side is led by a valiant king or daring queen.”
“Wiuyo's been away too long,” a work fairy opined. He had two rings on each hand, earning him the name of Ring Fairy in Dirant's mind, which had little facility with nicknames. “Wiuyo's out of fashion. The strongest send out generals now.”
“Not all of them.”
“They will!”
“Zatdil refuses.”
“He'll change his mind or he'll lose.”
“No generals are present,” Hairpin Fairy declared.
“Wiuyo was right the whole time!”
At that, Wiuyo put on the smuggest expression Dirant had ever seen, though she wore it briefly. A battle, no matter how inconsequential, demanded gravity, and one was about to begin for all that every text on martial science advised against it. The two forces, both scoutless, saw each other and charged without taking the simplest precautions such as seizing a hill, digging spikes, or even shifting from a marching formation to one appropriate for greeting the enemy. Taomenk gurgled, too disgusted to condemn such careless war-waging in words, and even Aptezor squinted and wrinkled his nose while of course not turning aside from the subject of an upcoming article. He was up to ten or twelve of those.
What the hostile fairies lacked in tactics, they lacked in most other areas. Unit cohesion for example. Nevertheless, it was impossible that so many weapons might be brought against such a quantity of flesh without some effect, and soon fairies were hacking one another apart with wild swings. That was another error. Once a soldier is killed or sufficiently wounded, there is nothing but danger and inefficiency in cutting him up more, the Adabans wanted to shout and the Survyai actually did. Yurvitas may not have pretended to any knowledge of warfare, but he understood wasted effort.
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The slaughter began evenly, but once superior skill or luck gave one side the advantage, it compounded, loan-like, until thirty fairies accepted the surrender of five. The thirty-five cheered with equal boisterousness regardless of their allegiance and began dragging corpses away.
“Follow them if you want water,” Hairpin Fairy proclaimed.
“Water used for burial doesn't interest me.” Evidently such a practice was known in Yean Defiafi, for Yurvitas alone of the men was other than perplexed by the proclamation
Their guides decided to trail after the departing soldiers without regard for his distaste. In a clear demonstration of the ephemerality of squeamishness, so did Yurvitas, though after Aptezor first, Taomenk second, and Dirant third. Any insight to their characters indicated by the order was best left for later consideration.
Travel through the lake district was more pleasurable for the eye if identical for the feet. Patches of flowers farther from border relieved the monotony of green, and the occasional stone pile which resembled a beast, person, or setting for an archaic ceremony provided a less colorful but more solid contrast. The war fairies eventually led them all unheeding to a lake, or a pool to those with no need to flatter it. Waters collected in a depression amid three hills to give the sky and clouds a look at themselves and perhaps encourage them to pursue self-improvement, perhaps working up a nice little breeze for once.
Thirty-five jovial fairies threw in seventeen corpses and returned for more. Seventeen more fairies swam out of the pool and ran to catch up.
Taomenk exhaled. “That went as predicted. I had other guesses, be confident of that, but that was one.”
“The process is much less elaborate than I thought. I suppose it's been embellished.” Aptezor began to take a step forward, but caution intervened. “I think we ought to take Mr. Doltandon's advice and look for more water.”
They found a stream without further incident except for the intellectual adventure of deducing its source, since none was evident or could be made so without the intervention of a gigantic, earth-cleaving sword.
“Such a geological survey I believe to be useless here,” Dirant opined. “The source is fairy magic and nothing else.”
Taomenk held the opposing view. “Not that it isn't within their power, but it's too final. Not subject to elaboration. No, this stream wanders all about, probably as a prototype of an underground canal system.”
The dispute did not extend to the virtues of the water, which all agreed had rejuvenating qualities equal to the legendary fruit which Egille reportedly declined when offered it by the gods on the grounds that he had no wish to outlive his great-grandchildren, with the sole difference between them being that the stream was real. Thus refreshed, Taomenk, Yurvitas, Dirant, and Aptezor, in order of seniority, were ready to worry about their companions again. Therefore Dirant, Aptezor, Taomenk, and Yurvitas, in order of anxiety, resumed their fairy journey.
To distract from the feeling, Dirant proposed to test a theory. “The Ertithans,” he said most slyly, “must have composed many lyrics about battles more impressive than those.”
“They did,” Wiuyo confirmed, and though that “they” disappointed, a supposition rejected is better than one which languishes in an unprovable state, Dirant and Taomenk consoled each other by saying.
Not long afterward, Ring Fairy asked, “Are you interested in meeting a general? They're all humans like you. Somewhat like you.”
The answer was too obvious to record, though Aptezor did for occupation-related reasons. Moreover, none of the humans needed to voice the suspicion that all shared, namely that the two missing people whose absence occasioned their recent hardship were identical to two of the generals, to say nothing of their previous companions. They did voice it, but only in failed attempts to get the fairies to divulge the names of said generals.
Ring Fairy knew just where to go. He had spent time at the drill grounds established by one such imported expert before he decided the military life was better lived by others, at least for that week. He conducted the troupe thither at his theoretical employer's command.
A simple split-rail fence marked off the training area, and inside those largely symbolic boundaries dozens of dazzling fairies lounged, played, or watched a single woman likely from Greater Enloffenkir beg them to stand in a line to start, just stand there shoulder to shoulder, there was nothing complicated about it. A portion of the presumed trainees listened, shuffled around a bit, and ended up in a different but no less chaotic jumble, whereupon the Grenlofer woman turned away and began to whisper either a prayer or a curse to the uncaring air.
She looked young, if not quite Aptezor young, and not at all warlike in her class or inclinations, though there is nothing sure in an impression. Neither did she belong to the fashionable circles as Dirant understood them, for she wore the combination of heavy coat and skirt adopted by GE women when on the road rather than the drawing room. While she began her hairstyle with low, even bangs above the eyes, the popular foundation of the day, she deviated from the customary by cutting the rest of it off at her shoulders. Furthermore, she had freckles, which most regarded as a mistake. Dirant had a single reason to be pleased at Takki's absence in that were she there, he might have been forced to admit he struggled in identifying the lady's tribe. Either Adaban or Ottkir, he suspected.