Chapter#206
She cut Fiotr Araine short when he rambled but she listened in a gentle silence when Pava Talien stuttered as he recounted a difficult engagement with heavy losses. At the end she made a precise history of the battle they had just fought. The Lieutenants and Hanya Lein wrote furiously as she talked then they sat writing out fair copies of their work in pen while the Commanders and she heard from the officers who had been designated that work the lists of the dead and wounded. They sat quietly with their eyes turned to the table while the names were read out although once Loisir Stariel could not restrain a heart-wrenching sob and she leant sideways to grip a hand on his arm on the table.
When the Lieutenants and Hanya had finished, she took Hanya's copy and folded it into a packet, directing it herself to: General-Lord E. el Gaiel van H'las of the strategic staff offices in Port H'las. She looked about her for a seal to press into the red wax that Hanya's Lieutenant came quickly to drip onto the packet for her then she took Hanya's arm and pressed his cuff button into the warm wax: the two towers and the wavy lines with a sword across the top meaning Captain. She scrawled AeM van H'las under the seal and drew a sun in the corner of the front of the packet, handing it to Hanya and saying: "To be sent with despatch." He stood up, saluted and turned with the ritual H'las stamp of heels which Dar Vaie watched surreptitiously with a titillated glint in his eye.
Tashka turned back to the table, kicking Dar under it so he said: "Ow!" in an obvious way, drawing even more attention to his misdemeanour. The other Commanders saw her suppress a smile in the corner of her rose-petal mouth then the pretty mouth opened and orders started pouring out in detail: disposition of the troops; who would be in control of the defensive position she expected them to strike about the Palladia, lines of supply, supplies of food, rations of drink; how the enemy were to be held on station in their barracks. Dar Vaie would be in control of them until Lord Clair could come to decide if he were willing to accept the vow of those who would slip to his fingers. Loisir Stariel must look to the care of those Sietter who were wounded. They stared at her open-mouthed, luckily their Lieutenants had been quicker-witted and were already scribbling busily by their sides.
"Sir, it is done," the Commanders said automatically every so often.
Finally she said: "I have spoken," and they got up to go, casting quick looks at the piles of papers their Lieutenants were shuffling hastily together. Tashka stood up too but suddenly gripped the edge of the table, leaning on it, shaking with fatigue. They turned to her, falling quiet.
"To quarter!" she barked. They looked at each other then hesitantly stamped out the ritual steps of junior officers in H'las leaving a senior before hurrying away. Like a bunch of scared rabbits was how Dar and Loisir hilariously described it later to Pava el Jien. Loisir went to look to the Sietter wounded but Dar remained sitting in his chair in the red cotton shirt he had been wearing under his tunic, not of her army.
Batren came bustling in and glared at Tashka, who swung an angry blue gaze at him. "Your bath has been waiting for you these three hours!" he said, reminding Dar irresistibly of a fussy old nursery-maid.
"We are having a dinner here the night, the officers and I," Tashka said, still leaning trembling on the table.
"Oh yes," Batren's voice was hot with annoyance, we will see about that implied in it.
Dar got up and offered Tashka his arm. She looked at him with a mute glare but he shook his head with a smile so she took it and leant heavily on it. She walked out leaning on his arm, dragging her leg on the carpets, shaking and white with exhaustion. He and Batren got her up the stairs without having to carry her and into the big square guest room which the steward had set aside for her. It had a glass wall looking out to the courtyard, beautiful no doubt but not very comfortable for a bedroom. Tashka staggered across the rich blue carpet and sat heavily on the bed. Batren moved over to start undressing her and Dar started to leave - rather hurriedly and without bothering to wait for his tunic. Tashka suddenly fell backwards in the soft quilts of the bed, her muscles as limp as dirty washing.
"Get out!" Batren cried indignantly to Dar and some servants who were still in the room. He bustled them out and shut the door on them. He came and took hold of Tashka, pulled off her boots and her weaponry - in spite of her feeble protest. He stripped off her clothes, even unhooking her bodice, seized her long thin white body and hauled her to dump her in the bath full of hot water. Tashka gave a long luxurious groan, relaxing her strained muscles in the heat of the bath. Her eyes started to drift shut but Batren was soaping up her arm, now he was washing her chest, which was embarrassing, and even between her toes, which tickled. He washed her hair and poured hot water over her head. He pulled her out of the bath into a huge towel he wrapped about her and vigorously rubbed her dry until her limbs were tingling and her cropped hair stood up over her head. He put ointment on her wounds, rubbed cream into her shoulders, back and legs where she had most used her muscles in combat, pulled a nightshirt over her head and finally put some scented oil in her hair. She lifted her head, grabbed his hand and sniffed at the oil on it, Vadya's scented oil. Her eyes went soft, her mouth went down at the corners. He rolled her into the bed. She was asleep before the covers had settled down over her.
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