Colonel Andy pointed. “Look, sir! We’ve got a lodgement there, right at the base of the Rise.”

“So we do,” Doubting George said. “Next question is, can we keep it?”

They couldn’t. George hadn’t really expected that they would, not with the advantage in numbers the northerners held. The traitors rolled boulders down onto his men, sweeping them away as a blond scullery maid might sweep crawling ants off a wall. They rained firepots on the southrons, too, and plied them with crossbow quarrels. A few men in gray clung to the ground they’d gained, but more-even those who weren’t hurt-fell back. George had a hard time blaming them.

“I thought we had something going there,” Andy said dejectedly.

“I hoped we had something going there,” George replied, which wasn’t the same thing at all.

“The traitors will know they’ve been in a battle, by the Lion God’s fangs.” Colonel Andy looked and sounded as belligerent as a man could when he wasn’t doing any actual fighting himself.

“I want them to know they’ve lost a battle,” George said. “Right now, Colonel, I have to confess, I don’t know how to make that happen, not on this part of the field.”

“I wish I did, sir,” his aide-de-camp said.

“I wish you did, too. I wish anybody did. I hope we’re doing well on the ends of the line, because we’re in a devils of a fix here in the middle.” Doubting George sighed. “We’re all doing the best we can. I have to remember that.”

“General Guildenstern was doing the best he could, too,” Andy said acidly.

“Why, so he was,” George said. “Guildenstern is a brave man, and he had the start of a good plan. I think General Bart has a better plan, and it may well work. But he gave me a hard role to play.”

Shouting King Avram’s name, his men made another lunge toward the eastern face of Proselytizers’ Rise. A few more of them got into the trenches of the base of the Rise. Some of the ones who did came out again. Nobody seemed able to hold on there. You are not here to win the battle, George reminded himself. You’re here to keep the men on the wings from losing it. Remembering that came hard.

“There’s some sort of a commotion over to the north,” Colonel Andy said.

“Well, so there is.” George peered off in that direction, trying to figure out what sort of a commotion it was.

Andy’s voice broke in excitement: “It’s-it’s the northerners running back from the slope of Sentry Peak, that’s what it is!”

“Looks that way,” Doubting George agreed. “And there’s our men after them, too. Looks like Fighting Joseph has won himself a victory, it does, it does.”

“It sure does,” his aide-de-camp exulted. After a moment, Andy said one more word: “Oh.”

George answered him with one word, too: “Yes.” Seeing Fighting Joseph’s men storming forward in pursuit of the traitors while his own soldiers impotently smashed themselves against Proselytizers’ Rise ate at him. But then, with an effort he regretted but could not help, he said, “It’s for the good of the kingdom. We always have to remember, that comes first.”

“Of course, sir.” Colonel Andy didn’t sound as if he fully believed it, either.

Fighting Joseph, George thought with distaste. I wouldn’t mind nearly so much if it were Hesmucet, over there on the other flank. But he looks as though he’s having as much fun as I am, or maybe even more.

Part of it was his personal judgment of Fighting Joseph: overfond of gambling and spirits and hookers, the man would never be a gentleman. Part of it was his, and everyone else’s, professional judgment of Fighting Joseph: having botched the battle of Viziersville, and having botched it in the way he did, why was he given another important command? General Bart probably had the right of that-King Avram didn’t mind giving Joseph another command of sorts, so long as it wasn’t anywhere close to Georgetown or the Black Palace.

“Send a messenger to him,” George told his aide-de-camp. “Ask him if we can do anything to help in the pursuit.”

“Yes, sir.” Colonel Andy spoke as if the words tasted bad. Doubting George didn’t reprove him. He hadn’t enjoyed giving the order, either, however necessary he knew it to be.

Sooner than George quite wanted, the runner returned. After saluting, he said, “Fighting Joseph’s compliments, sir, and he declines your generous request. He says he’s quite able to do what wants doing all by his lonesome.”

“He would say something like that,” Andy sneered.

“Of course he would,” George said. “He wouldn’t be the man he is if he were the sort who could be gracious at times like this.”

“What do we do now, sir?” Andy asked.

“What can we do?” George replied. “We’ve done everything we can. We’ve served our purpose. In the north, Joseph did break through, as General Bart hoped he would. Maybe Lieutenant General Hesmucet can do the same in the southwest. I wish him the best.”

“We can’t break through here,” Colonel Andy said.

“We’re not supposed to break through. We’re just supposed to keep the traitors too busy to send reinforcements anywhere else along the line,” George said, trying not to think about the exact words of the order Bart had given him. “We’ve done exactly that. We wouldn’t need just wizards to do more. We’d need… I was going to say real, live miracle-workers, but even they’d have trouble.”

“For the sake of the men, I wish we could stay out of range of the enemy’s engines and crossbows,” his aide-de-camp said.

“So do I, but we can’t,” Doubting George said. “We wouldn’t seem very dangerous here if we did.” Not that we seem all that dangerous here now.

“I suppose you’re right,” Andy said. Whatever he supposed, he didn’t sound very happy about it. A moment later, though, he had a thought that seemed to cheer him. “The battle looks as if it will still be going tomorrow. I hope General Bart will see fit to give us reinforcements.”

“I don’t, by the gods,” George answered. “As best I can see, all we’d do if we had them was get them killed. Do you really think we can force Proselytizers’ Rise?”

“It’s our duty,” Colonel Andy said.

Doubting George was glad his aide-de-camp wasn’t in the line of command. If he went down himself, Brigadier Absalom would take over for him. And Absalom the Bear knew how things were supposed to work. Andy was excellent at details, not nearly so good at the big picture. George said, “No, no, no. Our duty here is just to keep the traitors busy. As long as we manage that, all’s right with the world.”

“If you say so, sir.” Andy didn’t sound convinced, and George was too worn to argue with him any more-and he wasn’t convinced, either.

Instead of arguing, he watched the sun go down between Proselytizers’ Rise and Sentry Peak. “We aren’t going to accomplish anything more today,” he said at last, and sent orders forward to have his men leave off fighting and encamp out of range of the northerners atop the Rise.

As they pulled back, a rather short man with a neat dark beard rode up on a fine unicorn. “Good evening, Lieutenant General,” General Bart called.

“Good evening to you, sir,” Doubting George replied. He held his salute as the commanding general dismounted. A trooper took charge of the unicorn’s reins. George asked the question surely uppermost in everyone’s mind: “What’s your view of the battle thus far?”

“Up in the north, Fighting Joseph has done everything I could have hoped for, and a little more besides,” Bart answered. “He’s driven Thraxton’s men as handsomely as you please, and I expect he’ll do more tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” George said. “I gather things aren’t going quite so smoothly in the southwest.”

“Well, no,” General Bart allowed. “Hesmucet and I looked over the ground ourselves before I ordered the attack, and-”

“Did you?” That impressed George. Few generals were so thorough.