When Captain Phidestros heard the sudden increase in firing from the far side of the Heights, he ordered the Iron Company to make ready to mount up. The most likely explanation for the new uproar was a Hostigi attack, and he wanted to be able to move out as quickly as possible through the Middle Gap to reinforce Captain-General Aesthes. Surely Aesthes, having through no gift of his own found the long sought Hostigi flank, would not hesitate to call up every man jack within reach of his messengers to attack it.
Instead the battle roar continued to mount, and white powder smoke climbed the sky above the Heights to join the black murk from burning Mrathos. Still no orders came from the Captain-General or anybody else, and no more messengers came along the road from the west. The battle there was still going on, which suggested that the Hostigi at the West Gap must have either been much stronger than anyone had suspected or else been reinforced since the fighting had opened some several candles ago. There could be no other natural explanation for their holding so long; Phidestros would believe other kinds of explanations when he saw evidence for them.
Without his injured knee, Phidestros would have dismounted and walked off his growing ill temper, striding up and down in front of the Iron Company, until either orders came or he felt better. With his knee still sore, all he could do was sit on his horse until Snowdrift sensed his rider's uneasiness enough to grow jittery, then dismount and sit on a stump high enough to be clear of the rank grass and horse droppings.
It didn't help that the muck from the creek now reeked like a midden, and what had found its way through the chinks in his armor to creep next to his skin itched like all the fleas in Harphax City amusing themselves at once. Men who had business with him carefully stayed upwind, Phidestros noticed. He also realized he could do nothing about this until he could strip off his armor, boil his clothes and have a thorough bath-preferably in a proper Zygrosi bathhouse, with clouds of steam rising around him and a comely wench to ply him with soap, scraper, cloths, oil, sweetcakes, winter wine, a massage…
Phidestros ruthlessly kept his imagination from going any farther; instead he decided to light his pipe, only to discover he had no more tobacco. He sent his baggage boy to find some, and also to summon Geblon and Kyblannos. If the Iron Company was to sit around until it perished from boredom it might at least sit somewhere there was water and shade.
The nearest place to provide both turned out to be a chestnut grove already occupied by a gaggle of stragglers, deserters, servants and camp followers-as well as a few genuine sufferers from fever, flux or the heat. The Iron Company routed the able-bodied out of the grove at point of sword and pistol, took the casualties under its protection and settled down to wait with as much patience as they could muster.
His baggage boy finally returned with some tobacco and he was getting his pipe drawing nicely when a shout came from the lookout he'd posted in the upper branches of the tall sycamore at the west end of the grove.
"Captain! There's fighting south of the West Gap. I can see a lot of dust and some cavalry at the gallop!"
Phidestros cursed his injured knee which would keep him from climbing the tree to look for himself. "Can you see the cavalry's colors?"
"No, there's too much dust and smoke. I can see the Royal Lancers and their pennon though. They're well to the side of the new fighting."
"You've used your eyes well," Phidestros said, reaching into his purse for a coin and with the other hand a branch to pull himself to his feet. Fighting south of the West Gap, and cavalry at that, could mean hardly anything but another Hostigi attack. He didn't know who commanded the Harphaxi there-probably Prince Philesteus himself, if the Royal Lancers were present. But it would be certainly someone with enough rank to give weight to any praise he gave the Iron Company. It seemed to him that that West Gap was more than ever the place for his men now, and any messengers with orders to the contrary who might be in the way could break their necks for all he cared.
"Sound, 'Mount!'" he shouted to the nearest trumpeter and his groom moved to Snowdrift's head. Harness jingled and leather thumped as the men around him obeyed their Captain's shout even before the trumpet blew. Phidestros swung into the saddle and considered his best line of march to the West Gap.
Straight down the road would bring him within sight of the Harphaxi Royal Army and their captain; that would mean attacking with friends at his back and flanks. Not the best of friends, though, except in sheer numbers; the well-born heavy cavalry of Hos-Harphax were barely polite to mercenaries and were none too wise in the new kind of warfare Kalvan was going to teach everybody whether they liked it or not. No, the Iron Company would swing to the south of the road and move cautiously towards the fighting with scouts well out in front. Phidestros was even prepared to lead himself, in order to be the first to see how the battle was going. Once again, if the Iron Company retreated without need and there was an example to be made, he would be the one to provide it. But, on the other hand, if there was a need for retreat-well, the Iron Company would have a clear road to Harphax City or even across the Harph.
"To Phidestros!" someone shouted.
The Iron Company took up the cry. Snowdrift began to prance and his rider didn't even try to gentle him. One way or another, the frustration of sitting by the road while the battle was mismanaged all around him was about to end, Galzar be thanked!