Chapter 109 The Book of the Nine Realms

The "Book of the Nine Realms" was a name Lora had invented on the spot for the Old Book of Stratagems. She'd forgotten about it. Now it was on her dowry list. When she heard it again, she nearly choked on her own cleverness. But it gave her a better excuse than the white-bearded old man in dreams. A prophetic scroll, you wouldn't understand it even if she gave it to you. Anything could be written inside. As for why she had a prophetic scroll, the white-bearded old man gave it to her, of course. The guards believed completely. They waited eagerly for nightfall. At dusk, White Horse Gate's heavy doors swung shut. Birds returning to their nests in the forest chattered, exchanging the day's gossip before darkness took their sight. The garrison found the sound comforting: the birds wouldn't chatter if there was danger. Not that the birds saw nothing, but the forest was indeed quiet. Five or six hundred straw men, not uniformly made. Some wore black coats, some black cloaks. The guards, heads on one, arms around another, napped in the trees. The sky was theirs tonight: thick clouds, not a star. Pitch black. In the darkness, the men swiftly placed three hundred straw figures at the base of the gate wall. Then they retreated along the mountain stone walls flanking the road. "Look! People outside the gate!" A shout from the wall. The valley amplified it, the whole gate heard. The garrison scrambled. Trained enough, they organized archers on the wall, aimed at the figures below. "Tiger squad, ready, loose! Fall back!" "Eagle squad, ready, loose! Fall back!" Two squads alternated. Arrow after arrow. But the figures below didn't fall. Didn't make a sound. Didn't move. On the wall, the veteran commander Lothair grew suspicious: "Stop! Why no reaction below?" "You're right, the figures haven't diminished. Dead men don't stand in formation. General, should I open the gate and check?" "No, don't open. This could be an ambush." Lothair was about to rub his eyes and look again when, from below, a chorus of voices: "Thank you, General Lothair, for the arrows!" What? This was the straw-boat trick! They were treating him as the enemy general! A rustling, and the figures below were gone. Lothair, furious: "Sir Kendrick Bor! You bald toad! Coming to cheat your granddad's arrows! The toads of West Ridge, if I catch them, I'll skin them and hang them at the gate for a fortnight!" "West Ridge? Right, right, West Ridge has a nest of bandits. They must be short of arrows, used straw men to trick us! General, your perception is unmatched. Let's close up and sleep. Won't fall for it again." In the forest nearby, the men gleefully pulled arrows from straw men. Corin laughed hardest: "This is the best business! Zero investment! If we'd known this trick, we'd never have worried about weapons. Trick them at night, sell the arrows back to their own camp by day." Lora laughed: "Only the first time works. Try it again, they won't be so generous." "Then why did you have us make so many straw men?" "Because next time, they'll be burned." Lora grinned. The second deployment came at midnight. When the straw men were placed and the men withdrew, the garrison noticed: "Hey, didn't they leave? They're back! Greedy lot." One guard laughed: "Don't shoot arrows. Let me mess with them." He lit an arrow at a torch, loosed. The straw man caught fire. The guards howled. Others lit arrows. The base of the wall became a sea of flame. Lothair came out, heard the laughter: "General, you were right! Straw men again. One spark and they burn." The old commander looked down, then turned and cursed: "Are you all suicidal? You know they're straw, and you shoot fire arrows? If the gate catches, you haven't got enough heads to pay for it!" In the forest, the men smiled. "Everyone, hold your straw man and rest. We move at the fourth watch." The general's scolding meant: next time, fire arrows were far less likely. The fourth watch, the darkest hour before dawn. When exhaustion was deepest. That was when they'd move. Leon watched Lora, curled against a tree root, hugging a straw man. And understood "something from nothing." It wasn't just the surface meaning. The sequence was: They think it's real. They realize it's fake. But actually, it's real. That was the true subtlety. How many men, after seeing through a deception, would take the next one seriously? Their experience gave them confidence. The confidence that killed. At the fourth watch, Fulke and Corin led the men out. This time, they didn't withdraw. They stood with the straw men. A guard peeked over the wall, spat: "These bandits think we're idiots? Coming again and again!" A moment of calm. Then Fulke waved. The straw men's "doubles" stepped forward. Grappling hooks flew, caught the wall edge. Thirty feet of White Horse Gate wall, silently climbed. A few muffled thuds. The wall top went quiet. Then, noise from the barracks. Not long after, the iron-spiked gates swung open. Fulke stepped out and waved Roland's group in. "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" The barracks rooster announced dawn. "Quick, our window is closing. One push, into Stoneford." Roland urged everyone to change into captured uniforms. Linn found uniforms for Leon and Roland. But for Lora, too small. Nothing fit. They were still changing when a sentry came running: "Lord Roland, Lord Leon, bad news! The road to the gate, a massive column of men! Black with people as far as you can see!" Had they lost the false monk and gained a real saint? Roland said: "Close the gates! Everyone who's changed, to the wall! Bows ready. See if they're friend or foe. We took this gate, we don't let brigands into Greyhollow March." Lothair, bound, on the ground, sneered: "Petty thieves calling others bandits? At least you have some conscience. Release me, before you bungle the moment." Roland had barely dressed when another report: "Lord Roland, they're Redmane. Ten thousand at least!" Redmane? From here, the Feihu Mountains led to the northern plains. Several Redmane tribes were in that direction. But the domain bordering Greyhollow March on that side was Eastmarch. Why hadn't Eastmarch stopped them? Eastmarch had a "Northern Plains Command", a Redmane force trained and supported by the crown, based at the Yellow Flower Ridge, to pacify surrounding Redmane tribes. They had a treaty with the Eastmarch marcher duke: Redmane may not cross the Feihu Mountains. The commander of this Northern Plains Command, the Duke of Yinshan, was the Redmane chieftain, Zarek Zachary.

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