Parno's Gambit: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book 3

by N. C. Reed

  But to what end? He continued to look at the map. He needed more than that. He couldn't stand another defeat. The army couldn't stand another defeat. He needed to do something that weakened the southern position to a point where his army could attack them and have a chance of success even with the hellish new weapons.

  Moving down the Tinsee far enough to attack the Soulan rear would not help him. True, the distraction would pull some troops away from the front, but not to the point that the army was actually weakened. A spread and disjointed enemy was not necessarily a weakened enemy. He needed to separate troops from the Southern army and force them away from this front.

  An attack by Andrews from the west, across the bridge into Shelby would be the ideal thing, but it would take weeks for a courier to arrive there and then Andrews would want confirmation. Then he would send word to the Emperor and on it would go, meanwhile nothing would be done. No, that would not do.

  But what about the other river? For some reason no one ever seemed to look at the Cumberland River, despite the fact that it flowed right to the southern capitol. Or perhaps because it did, he wasn't sure. Nasil was known to house the Soulanie's 1st Corp, traditionally their best units and officers. And again, the river flowed north, not south as the Great River did. As an invasion route it wouldn't work well. But as a raiding route? Could he use the boats to send a raiding party down, well up, the Cumberland River?

  First, were the boats even still available? Were the sailors still there? Could he get them overland to the army or would he have to send them back to where the Cumberland emptied into the Ohi? Would the sailors respond to his authority if they were still there? Would they come south and help ferry his troops still further south for a raid in force?

  There was only one way to find out; “Captain!”

  ~*~

  “Are you satisfied that this new plan is better than the old one?” Memmnon asked. He and Parno were in the King's office, speaking privately.

  “I think so,” Parno nodded. “The thing is, what I had planned to do could have crippled the army even if we were successful. Cho Feng made me realize that I was overlooking too much, Memmnon. I was reaching too far because I was looking too far ahead. I wanted so badly to push the Nor back and then take the war to them that I. . .I forgot that I first had to win here. That I had to make sure that we could survive.”

  “I don't understand,” Memmnon admitted. “Well, I understand that you want to preserve the army, but at some point we 'll have to use it, Parno. It seems the longer we wait, the stronger they 'll be.”

  “So will we,” Parno replied. “I'm going to amend my original orders and send 2nd Corps to Cove to start through the same training regimen that the Black Sheep went through. Once they're finished and back up the strength, we 'll pull them back and send 1st Corps. Then send them to Shelby and pull 3rd Corps and so on. We 'll retrain our army and train our new recruits and militia at the same time. Train them the same way I did the Black Sheep. Our army will be stronger than it has ever been in our history, Memmnon. And we can do it in a year. Two at most.”

  “And you have the strength to keep the Nor at bay until that's done?” Memmnon looked doubtful, though he clearly wanted to believe.

  “No,” Parno admitted. “Not on paper, as the saying goes. I don't. But I have the strength and the trickery to keep them off balance and stall their push south. It will mean reinforcing Raines further than my original plans in case the force they have across the Great River is strong enough to make a serious push and they decide to do so. That's always a risk,” he sighed. “But overall, this plan is still much better than the one I had before.”

  “Sending the refugees south and having them plant there instead of on the plains relieves us of the need to free up the crop land the Nor are sitting on,” Memmnon nodded thoughtfully. “They might settle for staying static thinking that so long as they keep us from having all that land during growing season then we 'll face a starving time before next year.”

  “And we still may,” Parno sighed. “Those on the coast will have to depend more on the fishing trade than ever before, especially on the Gulf. The damage Semmes did to the Imperial Fleet will help our fishing fleet stay moderately safe, and the Gulf Squadron is still on station to help keep pirating down. We 'll have to marshal as much grain as we can for the army without literally starving our own people, but we 'll also need beef and pork, not to mention leather, wood, iron and so on. We can't simply take every able-bodied man into service with the army, as I said before. Some trades are going to have to maintain healthy young men to keep them going. Or at least healthy older men,” he shrugged at the difference.

  “How strong do you think you will need to be to push the Nor out of the valley?” Memmnon asked after a minute's thought.

  “If our men are all trained up to the same standards as mine, then our static strength should be more than sufficient,” Parno surprised him. “Their men are trained about to the standard our militia were at the start of the war or a bit better. It was only superior training and leadership that let our army withstand the assault as they did. With all five Corps plus their militia attachments trained up to that standard, then we 'll have more than sufficient strength, assuming we're at or near full strength. Say. . .seventy five percent of optimal, roughly. That would give us about one hundred ten thousand men, give or take.”

  “We certainly don't have that many horses,” Memmnon noted.

  “And won't by that time either,” Parno agreed. “Actually, we do have that many horses, but not that many trained war mounts. And we still can't have that many in that time, either. What we can have is enough horses to have our mounted infantry all on horseback. They can and will supplement our cavalry as we advance. Bottom line will be to have six to eight highly trained and well equipped cavalry units on the line and ready when we launch our counter-offensive. Call it seventy-five thousand total.”

  “Half or better of your projected needs,” Memmnon mused.

  “Yes,” Parno nodded. “That's another advantage though. We 'll have a year-and-a-half to two years to raise and train new horses. Not enough time to have horses raised and trained from start to finish, but enough time to begin raising horses to replace those we lose in combat. It's a never ending cycle,” he sighed.

  “All this is dependent on your being able to keep the Imperial Army in check this entire time, however,” Memmnon pointed out. “How are you going to do that while pulling so many men off line?”

  “We 'll have to keep the Nor off balance with feints and raids,” Parno shrugged. “We 'll also have to watch for incursions and raids of theirs. I'm especially concerned with their alliance with the Tribes. If they turn them loose behind our lines, it could be a massacre before we managed to run them to ground.”

  “Yes,” Memmnon grimaced. No Soulan King had ever had anything approaching rapport with the Tribes. They were singularly uninterested in anything approaching peace. He wondered what the Emperor had promised them to get their cooperation.

  “Anyway, compared to what I had originally planned, this plan not only stand a better chance of overall eventual success, but may be far less costly, especially in the short run. It's still a gamble, but the risks are less.”

  “There will be risks no matter what we do,” Memmnon sighed. “Lessening them is always desirable where possible. If you must gamble, go with the better odds.”

  “I think this is the best I can do,” Parno held his hands out in a gesture of helplessness. “I have too many fires and not enough water buckets.”

  “Well, as you try to fight the fire, I will look for more buckets,” Memmnon promised.

  Neither brother mentioned the biggest fire of all.

  ~*~

  “Milady, we should keep moving until at least dusk.”

  Callens was getting very tired of Sherron McLeod. Every day it was constant picking and bickering and insulting his men, himself and everyone they passed. What in the hell had he been thinking? He
shook himself mentally at that; he knew what he'd been thinking.

  “I'm tired and I need a bath,” Sherron replied absently. “I want to stop. Find me a place to rest.”

  “Milady, you do realize that they will be sending someone after us, don't you?” he asked.

  “Nonsense,” Sherron waved the protest away. “They don't know where we're going to start with, and they will all be in a turmoil with both my father and brother dead. Parno, that idiot, will be there by now and be trying to keep things together. He will have made a fine mess by the time we get back with Therron. By then everyone will be so glad to see us no one will worry about anything else. Trust me, Callens. Now find me a place to pass the night. And no more farmhouses, do you hear?”

  “Of course, milady,” Callens fought off a sigh. There was no reasoning or arguing with her. Again, he had the thought that once they did reach Prince Memmnon she would be his problem.

  But at the rate they were being forced to travel, that was going to be a long trip.

  ~*~

  Therron McLeod stood once more on the white sands of the ocean front, watching a distant storm. Lightning crackled across the sky but the storm was still too distant to hear any thunder. He wondered idly how far out the storm was and which direction it was moving. It was difficult to tell with dusk approaching.

  He idly picked up a stone and tossed it into the waves that crashed onto the shore, the ripples it made instantly lost in the surf. Much like himself, he snorted. His power, prestige, everything gone in an instant. Even the servants here, pleasant though they might be, were in no way cowed by his presence or his name. He couldn't say his position, for he no longer had a position. He had thought more than once that his father's 'mercy' was more like punishment than actual death would have been. To be regulated to this. . . .

  He shook his head, clearing the thoughts away. It did him no good to look backward. Instead, he had to find a way to free himself from this hell he was in. What many might consider to be paradise and yet for him it really was a form of torment. Away from the seat of power that he felt was rightfully his, away from the army, which was his backbone, led by officers loyal to him and grateful for his patronage, in the thick of the machinations at court.

  There had to be a way out of here, and back to where he belonged. He just had to find it.

  ~*~

  “I want you present, but you are not to interfere.”

  Parno was looking at Sebastian Grey as he spoke, preparing to enter the building on the edge of the city that Havrel Denton was now being held in.

  “Milord, this should, rightly, be a matter for the-”

  “That sounds like interfering,” Parno cut him off, his voice as flat as his eyes. “This man may or may not be a spy, or agent provocateur. He is most certainly in dire need of an attitude adjustment for running his mouth about Winifred, assuming he is just a stupid man who delivers goods. Either way, we will handle it. I wanted you here in case he does turn out to be a spy, so that you can hear what he has to say and perhaps think of questions to ask him that we've overlooked. Understand?” Parno's tone made it plain that he expected a 'yes' and nothing else.

  “I do, milord,” Grey nodded, reluctance in every syllable.

  “Then let us go and see about this man,” Parno opened the door and led the way inside, Berry and two others following while the rest of the escort took up station outside.

  “Milord,” Anders stood to as Parno entered.

  “Any problems, Sergeant?”

  “None, milord,” Anders shook his head. “He's mouthy, but not much on the physical. He's been alternating between threats and pleas since we got here. We ain't spoke to him over just instructions, as you ordered, milord.”

  “Good job,” Parno nodded. “Take your detail and go get some rest, Sergeant. I appreciate this.”

  “No problem, milord,” Anders nodded, then waved for his detail to fall in and led them out. Parno stood looking at where Denton was surrounded by the glow of lanterns in the darkened building, even though the sun had yet to set. The man looked off, somehow. He wasn't sure what it was, but there as just something about Denton that set off bells in Parno's head. It was time to find out why that was, and why Mister Denton had felt the need to engage in idle gossip about the King and his prospective bride. He stepped into Denton's view, followed by Cho Feng, Grey holding back as ordered.

  “Mister Denton, I'm Parno McLeod,” he said simply.

  “Thank God!” Denton exclaimed. “Milord, I've been set upon by ruffian soldiers who were-”

  “Acting on my orders,” Parno interrupted him softly, watching for Denton's reaction. The man's face stilled and all pretense seemed to leave him.

  “What is it that I've done, then, to deserve this?” Denton asked.

  “Why don't you tell me, Mister Denton?” Parno asked, taking a chair and sitting down to the front of where Denton was tied to a chair of his own. Cho Feng remained standing.

  “How would I know?”

  “Well, truth is, you've been running your mouth a good bit, Mister Denton,” Parno smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. “You've been saying some very bad things about a fine young woman that happens to be a friend of mine. He father also happens to be a friend of mine. You have many friends Mister Denton?”

  “A few,” came the cautious reply.

  “I don't,” was the flat rebuttal, Parno's voice going cold. “So I'm understandably upset whenever one of the few I do have is maligned. I'm sure you can understand that.” Denton nodded but didn't speak.

  “So tell me, Mister Denton,” Parno leaned forward. “Where did you get the information you've been spreading about the King and his. . .what was the term he used?” Parno turned to look at Cho Feng.

  “Play toy, my Prince,” Feng's reply was even. “I believe the term was play toy.”

  “Play toy,” Parno nodded, returning his gaze to Denton. “I'd be very interested in knowing how you came to that conclusion, Mister Denton, and why you chose to run your mouth about it in public.”

  “That's what this is about?” Denton laughed harshly. “Because I saw some skirt that the new King is playing house with and told a few people abou-” was as far as he got with his reply before the back of Parno's hand crashed into his jaw, rocking Denton's head and sending stars in front of his vision. By the time he looked back around, Parno was already seated again, calm as ever.

  “Let's try this again,” the Crown Prince said amiably. “Where did you come by this information, and why did you chose to spread such malicious gossip about someone you know absolutely nothing about?”

  “You can't do this,” Denton said harshly, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “The Articles of Constitution-”

  “Are suspended for the war,” Parno smiled again. “Bet you didn't know that, did you. I suspect they don't teach that sort of thing in Norland.”

  “What do you mean suspended!” Denton demanded, then pulled up short. “Norland?”

  It was clear to every man watching that he was a poor actor. He realized he was caught out and was trying to brazen his way through.

  “Our public education system is much better than yours,” Parno told him. “All children in Soulan know these things by the time they finish mid-forms. Common knowledge throughout the Kingdom, actually. So,” Parno leaned forward again, his voice was more cold, “You don't have any rights to stand on at the moment, Mister Denton. Even if you were a Soulan subject and not a Norland pawn sent here to stir up trouble. Now let me ask you again, where did you get your information and why spread it around that way?”

  “I don't know what you-” Denton's head rocked the other way this time as Parno used his off hand to smack Denton's other jaw.

  “I really can do this all evening,” Parno told him, once more already back in his chair before Denton looked around. “I won't though, because I have more important matters to see to. I 'll leave you in the capable care of my assistant, here,” he indicated Cho Feng. Cho did
not smile.

  “He's not from around here, as you may can tell,” Parno continued conversationally. “He has had some training and experience in talking with people like you over in the East. Prisoners and what have you, kind of like you are right now. He assures me that he can have you talking in short order and tell me everything I want to know.”

  As Parno spoke, Cho removed a leather roll from behind his belt and pulled a low table to him. Setting the roll down where Denton could see it clearly, he slowly and methodically unrolled it, revealing a number of wicked looking blades, hooks, needles and other instruments that severely damaged Mister Denton's ability to remain calm. Cho's face never showed an iota of emotion as he worked, setting a small brazier before him and lighting a single piece of charcoal inside before standing back a step, hands behind him, feet shoulder width apart.

  “What the hell is this?” Denton began to struggle a bit. “You can't do this!”

  “Why?” Parno asked. “Because the Imperial spy master told you that our laws prohibit such things, and would protect you if you were caught?” he chuckled harshly. “That was before your armies came screaming across our borders in alliance with the western Tribes, killing and maiming as you came. I assure you everything of that nature went right out with the wash when that happened. The days of using our laws against us have ended, Mister Denton. It's interesting,” Parno leaned back once more, making himself comfortable. “You appeared about eighteen months ago and took work at a sundries store, making deliveries. Before that there's no record of you anywhere. Your boss says that whenever he would ask about where you were from you'd be very vague, 'back west', 'a little south of there', and so on. No real answers and a lot more questions. It's as if you just popped up out of the ground, full grown. Isn't that something Cho?”