Tavi frowned down at the map for a long moment. "What do we know about enemy numbers?"
"There appear to be quite a few of them," Cantus replied.
Tavi looked up from the table, arching an eyebrow.
Cantus shook his head. "It's hard to get within sight of the horde during daylight, even for fliers. There is a constant battle for control of the air with those wasp-men they've got. I can spare only a handful of fliers to use for reconnaissance, and they've returned reports varying from three hundred thousand to ten times that number. So far, none of them have turned north for Phrygia. They seem to be intent on pursuing Princeps Attis."
"They don't dare do anything else," Tavi said. "If the High Lords get a chance to catch their breath, they can still be very, very dangerous to the vord."
Fidelias cleared his throat. He pointed a finger toward the far end of the northeastern causeway, the one that ended at Garrison. "Offhand, I'd say your pessimistic scout was the most likely to have been correct in his observations."
"Why?"
"The geography," Fidelias said. "Princeps Attis is seeking advantageous ground. Calderon may suit his purposes."
"Why say that?" Varg rumbled.
Tavi began to ask Cyricus to expand the sand table's view of the Calderon Valley, only to find that the stuttering young man was already in the process of doing it. Tavi made a mental note to himself: If he survived this war, he simply had to offer the young man a job. Initiative like that was uncommon.
"Ah, thank you, Master Cyricus," Tavi said. "Princeps Attis is leading the vord into a funnel," Tavi said. "Once they've passed the western escarpments and entered the Calderon Valley, they're going to be forced to crowd in closer and closer. Sea on the north, impassable mountains in the south."
"Neutralizing the advantage of numbers," Varg growled.
"In part. But he's also going there because my uncle has turned the place into a bloody fortress."
Fidelias glanced up at Tavi, frowning.
"You saw the holders of the Calderon Valley throw up a siege wall in less than half an hour at Second Calderon," Tavi said. "Now consider that my uncle's had the next best thing to five years to prepare."
The Cursor lifted his eyebrows and nodded. "Still. If the numerical disparity is that great, the Shieldwall itself might not be enough. And if he's leading the vord into a trap, he's going to be stuck in it as well. There won't be any way for him to retreat any farther. There's nowhere else he can go."
"He knows that," Tavi said, frowning. "And the vord know it, too. Which is why he did it."
Cyricus frowned. "Y-your Highness? I d-don't understand."
"He isn't so much leading them into a trap as he is playing the anvil to our hammer." Tavi touched the sand table, made a minor effort of will, and added multiple rectangles to the landscape, representing his own forces. Then he began to shift the pieces as if they'd been part of a game of ludus.
As the Legions fell back into the Valley, the vord crowded in behind them. As they pushed back the Legions, bit by bit, the frontage of the horde continued to contract - and the pieces representing his forces and Varg's came rushing up behind to pin them into the valley. "We hit them here."
Varg grunted. "Few score thousand of us, and millions of them. And you want us to ambush them."
Tavi bared his teeth when he smiled. "This isn't about killing the vord host. This is about finding and killing the vord Queen. She'll likely be somewhere at the rear of the horde, guiding them forward and coordinating their attack."
Varg's tail swished pensively, and his eyes narrowed. "Mmmm. A bold plan, Tavar. But if you do not find and kill her, our forces will be left facing the vord in the open field. They'll swallow us whole."
"We aren't getting any stronger. If we don't neutralize the vord Queen here, we might never have such an opportunity again. They'll swallow us whole in any case."
Varg growled low in his chest. "True enough. I have seen the end of my world. If I'd had the opportunity to make a choice like this one when they were ravaging my own land, I would not have hesitated."
Tavi nodded. "Then I want boots on the causeway by midmorning. We'll have to move fast if we're going to plug them into the bottle. Master Cyricus - "
"I've had logistics p-preparing p-provisions and supplies for your forces since Tribune Antillus arrived yesterday after-n-noon. They are w-waiting for you at the southern gate of the city, next to the causeway. It's only a week's w-worth, but it was the best we could do f-for the time being."
"Oh my," Kitai said in Canish, her eyes sparkling. "I may be in love."
Tavi replied in the same tongue. "I saw him first."
Varg's ears quivered again.
Tavi turned to Cyricus, and said, "You may have noticed that we have a number of Canim with us. They aren't able to use the causeways."
Cyricus nodded rapidly. "Would supply wagons do, Your Highness?"
"Admirably," Tavi said.
"I will requisition as m-many as can be f-found."
Tavi met the young man's eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Cyricus."
Cyricus bowed again, and began giving stammering orders to Phrygia's command staff. None of the men seemed to react adversely to Cyricus's youth or to the confident manner in which he issued orders. The men obviously trusted the young Citizen's competence, which suggested that he had given them good reason to do so. Tavi was even further impressed.
"Two days to Riva," Kitai murmured, looking at the map. "Two more days up to Calderon. Four days total." She looked up at him from across the sand table, green eyes intent. "You are going home, Aleran."
Tavi shivered. He drew his knife from his belt and thrust it into the sand table at the western mouth of the Valley. That was where it would all be decided. That was where they would find the vord Queen; or else see his Realm and his people consigned to oblivion.
The dagger stuck there, quivering.
"Home," Tavi said quietly. "It's time to finish what we started."
Chapter 26
Sir Ehren sat beside the driver of the supply wagon. Though the causeways were smooth, all in all, once enough speed and momentum had been gathered, he felt sure that every single divot and crack in the road's surface would hammer directly through the wagon's structure and into his rear end and lower back. Though the unseasonable chill of the past several days had ended, it had been replaced by steady, relentless rain.