Read Online Dragon (Vlad Taltos) by Steven Brust - Free Book Online Page B

general-in-chief.”
    Kragar gave an I-am-impressed look and said, “Then you could probably do something nasty to him to help Morrolan. There are a number of possibilities. An army is a great deal more delicate than you’d think. Just destroy a list of supplies he needs and you’ve created enough confusion to give him headaches. Or sneak in and burn a map or two. Or have someone impersonate an officer and send a company marching the wrong way. Or—”
    “I think I get the idea.”
    He nodded. “Once we know more we can be more specific.”
    I shook my head. “I’m trying to imagine myself as some sort of—I don’t know—saboteur.”
    “I’m trying to imagine it, too. And I’m trying not to laugh.”
    “Thank you so much.”
    He shrugged. “Well, so he got you mad, and you want to get him back. You’re stuck. If you can come up with something better, let me know.”
    “I can still kill him.”
    “Yeah, there’s that.”
    I said, “If you come up with a way to turn a profit on this, let me know.”
    “Oh, that’s easy. Morrolan will probably pay you for it.”
    “Do you think so?”
    “Yep.”
    “Well, that’s something.”
    He shook his head. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that revenge is wrong?”
    “No, Kragar,” I said. “That got left out of my education.”
    “Too late now,” he said.

5
    MOURNING IN THE AFTERNOON
    The next thing I remember doing is dodging around, trying to stay alert and not get killed. The first clash was over, and there were a lot of dead and wounded around, but things had broken up a bit. I didn’t see Virt or Aelburr anymore, but I caught a glimpse of Napper about twenty yards to my left, flailing about in fine style; I was sure he, at any rate, was enjoying himself. Our colors were still waving, but I didn’t recognize the woman holding them; Dunn was either dead or wounded. I hoped he was happy; he’d gotten what he wanted.
    There was nothing like a line of battle, but there were clumps of fighting here and there, and many of us, on both sides, who were either looking for someone to fight or hoping not to find someone. This is, I suppose, where spirit of battle really matters: If we’d had more of it, I’d have been trying harder to kill someone. If they’d had more of it, I wouldn’t have been able to hang around the fringes of the fighting. At some point in there, I noticed fresh blood on my sword, and I wondered how it got there.
    The trouble was: My comrades were fighting for each other. In part, to keep each other alive, and in part because they knew each other, had trained together, and none wanted to be the only one to bug out. I’d been through enough with them to know that that was the thing that kept them going; but I hadn’t trained with them, and I didn’t know them, and even by then I wasn’t quite sure why I hadn’t bugged out. I still didn’t know
what had kept me there the first time the enemy had come at us over hastily thrown-up earthworks.
    There was a short breathing space, and I relished it—hell, I gloried in it. Strange, huh? I was in as much danger, perhaps, as I’d ever been in, and I remember how delighted I was that there were spaces of time when no one was trying to kill me. Long spaces of time—seconds on end.
    Then Loiosh said, “Remember why we’re here, Boss?”
    “Damn you anyway.”
    “Boss—”
    “No, no. You’re right. I have a job to do.”
    “But how—”
    “Oh, I know how.” There was a little hillock, really just a rise in the ground, before me—just down the hill and up another. “I just have to get over that hill and spot their command post, which will be protected by the best warriors I’ve ever met and more sorcerous ability than you can find outside of Dzur Mountain. Then I have to finish up what I came here for. No problem.”
    “I know that. I meant how. Too bad we don’t know any invisibility spells that will stand up.”
    “Too bad I’m not Kragar.”
    Someone stumbled in front of