I was shaking with relief as I walked back with Tul. Not that I had gotten what I wanted but that I had stopped myself from saying what I had been about to say after I cleared my throat to get his attention. I had been going to ask if the cohort could be doing anything useful in the meantime, meaning to prompt him to see something obvious that he had missed. If I had he would have seen it. And forbidden it expressly.
He was thinking only of politics, of protecting what was his, of making money where he could and influence where he wanted it, of weakening a rival and strengthening himself. Those things, I found, increasingly passing through my own mind. But I was also thinking, primarily thinking, of survival. If the region was going to go to hell I wanted the biggest damn army I could get, regardless. I was going to instruct Sheo to stop, encamp, and recruit his little buns off no matter what the cost. I didn't have enough money, though I would send everything I had, so I would have to write scrip and seal it with my seal. Debt with no immediate way of paying it when it was presented. But I had a plan for that as well. Or at least an idea. If my guess was right I would have the money. If not I was going to have a problem. Still, it takes a brave man to walk up to a commander in the middle of his army and stick a bit of paper under his nose demanding money for it. Tell him to go away and wait and he doesn't have much choice, right? See this sword? See my men? Now sod off and come back in a few days.
“You're quiet,” Tul said.
“I was thinking about my analysis. Hoping it was not tainted by self interest.”
“Liar. Send a letter to your commander.”
“Hmm. Yes sir. I will.” But it wouldn't be quite the letter that was expected.
We were coming up to his tent. His cohort was set aside from the main force and his command tent was there, not in the center of things. Before we parted he slapped me on the shoulder and told me my analysis had been good.
I walked on alone, feeling smug.