Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

81. The Oldest Trick in the Book

If you've ever looked behind your shoulder when someone yelled, "Behind you!", you know that even the tricks millennia old can work. The caveat is that the bait has to be fresh enough. I staked my reputation on a trick like that.

The battle with the Tigress started with the pageantry and posturing. Miccola rode out to fight as Idezza's champion. She exchanged a few solid hits with a giant woman painted in white stripes and red spirals. A couple of other champions joined in, without tilting the scales one way or another.

I glared as Miccola landed playful strikes on the yelling berserker's shield. She could have finished the woman off in one blow! Well, maybe not one, but still. She was dragging the duel out to try my patience and I could do nothing about it. I stood in the middle of our formation, in the same black-stained armor as the other foot soldiers.

The gray and silver banners of the Deadhead Company flew far away, near a beautiful pavilion. Right next to it sat a litter decorated with my personal emblem, the rune for Ishmara. To leave no doubts, I added a painting of the Bhuta undefeated by the Divines in the Primordial Strife. The resemblance between the three-headed, flame-tongued, snake-legged Bhuta and me was debatable—though Miccola swore I was the spitting image—but it never hurt to drive the point home.

The Tigress didn't need allegorical paintings to instill fear into the hearts of her opponents. The half-divine Imperial Princess was plenty scary on her own account. She towered on top of the Queen of All Elephants, the mighty Shamshona. The other elephants looked darker and smaller, but each would be a giant machine of destruction when the push came to shove.

Finally, the champions lifted their weapons ceremonially, bowed and rode back to their sides. Cheers and pounding of the shields greeted them. Both sides would claim moral victory tomorrow.

Now it was time to do business.

The cacophony of horns, trumpets, drums, pipes and fifes brought by the auxiliaries from thirteen countries filled the air. It almost sounded like festival grounds in Char-Kermen. I had a wonderful feeling that the entire world came to watch the Southern Tigress bare her teeth at Ismar, the one who used to kill the elephants. Now she was down to defending a tiny castle deep in the jungles.

The citizens of Idezza, cognizant of their up-jumped significance, shouted from the safety of their well-repaired walls.

For a moment, my hidden third eye overpowered the actual sight with a vision summoned from memory. Nirav with cement dust in his hair, smiling at me at the sunbaked piazza. I hoped the Duke was as good a mason as he boasted to be. And as good a liar.

Daydreaming of my former lover, I missed the first hoofbeat. But after that, it was impossible to ignore the charge. The ground shook under our feet, as the golden wave of Vanozza's Radiant Battalion surged forward.

My heart thumped in unison with the galloping cavalry. Vanozza Ornatti rode in hopes of winning her Ratne, but this was my storm. My battlefield. My triumph or demise.

Flanking the Radiant Battalion, came Deadhead's light horse. I could see the Commander's green plume streaming behind Miccola's helmet. I squeezed my fists so tight, my fingers went numb.

Indara, Ye of the Lies, favor me!

The golden wedge aimed at the Tigress' flank. For one heartbeat, against all reason, I panicked that this battle might become Vanozza's Ratne. It just seemed inevitable that her horses would overturn the spearmen. For that one heartbeat, she was an epic heroine of her dreams.

Then, a black rain of arrows fell. They came from behind the quivering shields. They came from the armored towers on the elephants' backs. They came down from the sky.