Lan squatted, looking at the map. After tomorrow’s retreat, it appeared that they would reach a place called Blood Springs, named for the way the rocks beneath the water made the river seem to run red. At Blood Springs, they would have a slight advantage of height because of the adjacent hills, and Agelmar wanted to stage an offensive against the Trollocs with bowmen and cavalry lines working together. And, of course, there would be more burning of the land.
Lan knelt on one knee, looking over Agelmar’s notes about which army would fight where and how he’d divide the attacks. It was ambitious, but nothing looked particularly troublesome to Lan.
As he was studying, the tent flaps rustled, and Agelmar himself entered, speaking softly with Lady Ells of Saldaea. He stopped when he saw Lan, excusing himself quietly from his conversation. He approached Lan.
Agelmar did not slump with exhaustion, but Lan had learned to read beyond a man’s posture for signs of tiredness. Redness to the eyes. Breath that smelled faintly of flatwort, an herb chewed to keep the mind alert when one had been up too long. Agelmar was tired—but so was everyone else in camp.
"Do you approve of what you see, Dai Shan?" Agelmar asked, kneeling.
"It is very aggressive for a retreat".
"Can we afford any other action?" Agelmar asked. "We leave a swath of burned land behind us, destroying Shienar almost as surely as if the Shadow had taken her. I will bring Trolloc blood to quench those ashes".
Lan nodded.
"Baldhere came to you?" Agelmar asked.
Lan looked up sharply.
Agelmar smiled wanly. "I assume it was regarding the loss of Yokata and his men?"
"Yes"
"It was a mistake, to be certain", Agelmar said. "I wondered if anyone would confront me on it; Baldhere is one to believe I should never have made such an error".
"He thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard".
"He is clever in tactics", Agelmar said, "but he does not know so much as he thinks. His head is full of the stories of great captains. I am not without flaw, Dai Shan. This will not be my only error. I will see them, as I saw this one, and learn from them".
"Still, perhaps we should see that you get more sleep".
"I am perfectly hale, Lord Mandragoran. I know my limits; I have spent my entire life learning them. This battle will push me to my utmost, and I must let it".
"But—"
"Relieve me or let me be", Agelmar said, cutting in. "I will listen to advice—I am not a fool—but I will not be second-guessed".
"Very well", Lan said, rising. "I trust your wisdom".
Agelmar nodded, lowering his eyes to his maps. He was still working on his plans when Lan finally left to turn in.
CHAPTER 19
The Choice of a Patch
Elayne found Bashere pacing on the east bank of the river.
Riverbanks were among the few places that still felt alive to her. So much was lifeless these days, trees that did not put forth leaves, grass that did not grow, animals that huddled in their dens and refused to move.
The rivers kept flowing. There was a sense of life to that, though the plants were dreary.
The Alguenya was one of those deceptively mighty rivers that looked placid from a distance, but could pull a woman under its surface until she drowned. She remembered Bryne making a lesson of that to Gawyn once during a hunting trip they’d taken along it. He’d been speaking to her, too. Maybe to her primarily, though he’d always been careful not to overstep himself with the Daughter-Heir.
Be careful of currents, he’d said. River currents are one of the most dangerous things under the Light, but only because men underestimate them. The surface looks still because nothing is fighting it. Nothing wants to. The fish go along with it and men stay out of it, all except the fools who think to prove themselves.
Elayne stepped down the rocky bank, toward Bashere. Her guards stayed behind—Birgitte wasn’t with them just now. She was seeing to the archer companies miles downriver, where they were busy pounding the Trollocs building rafts to get them across the river. Birgitte’s archers and Talmanes’ dragons were doing an outstanding job of reducing the Trolloc numbers there, but it was still only a matter of time before their vast army would pour across the Alguenya.
Elayne had pulled her forces out of Andor a week before, and she and Bashere had been pleased with their progress. Until they had discovered the trap.
"Amazing, isn't it?" she asked, stepping up beside Bashere, who stood at the river’s bank.
Bashere glanced at her, then nodded. "We don’t have anything like it, back home".
"What of the Arinelle?"
"It doesn't grow this big until it’s outside of Saldaea", he said absently. "This is almost like an ocean, settled right here, dividing bank from bank. It makes me smile, thinking of how the Aiel must have regarded it after first crossing the Spine".
The two of them were silent for a time.
"How bad is it?" Elayne finally asked.
"Bad", Bashere said. "I should have realized, burn me. I should have seen".
"You can’t plan for everything, Bashere".
"Pardon", he said, "but that is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing". Their march eastward from Braem Wood had gone according to plan. Burning the bridges across the Erinin and the Alguenya, they had taken out large numbers of Trollocs trying to cross after them. Elayne was now on the road that went upriver to the city of Cairhien. Bashere had planned to set up their final confrontation with the Trollocs in hills along the road that lay twenty leagues south of Cairhien.
The Shadow had out-thought them. Scouts had spotted a second army of Trollocs just to the north of their current position, marching east, heading toward the city of Cairhien itself. Elayne had stripped that city of defenders to fill out her army. Now it was filled only with refugees—and was as crowded as Caemlyn had been.
"How did they do it?" she asked. "Those Trollocs couldn’t have come down from Tarwin’s Gap".
"There hasn't been enough time for that", Bashere agreed.
"Another Waygate?" she asked.
"Perhaps", Bashere said. "Perhaps not".
"How, then?" she asked. "Where did that army come from?" That army of Trollocs was almost close enough to knock
