Chapter 21: Strange Bedfellows
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It only takes a few minutes to upload my requests to Oracle. Primarily information on the new list of local players, but also a request that someone take a second look at the Templar case. She promises Cachiru. Good. By this time tomorrow I'll know the ancestry of every *fly* that buzzed that corpse.
Dinah missed breakfast, but she has the good sense to be up and dressed in time for morning briefing. Not that I'd normally refer it this as anything that formal. Dinah is sprawled over the recently erected cot, tossing my much maligned pillow back at Dick and making rude faces as I recount the morning's stories.
"And she actually brought in a bed? You think ..?" The pillow, in return flight, cut off her words.
Dick rolled on the other bed. "I don't think they know what gay is."
I stifled my own mental retort of 'not even moderately happy'. Dick has a way of bringing out the punster in the best of us.
"Probably right." Dinah sent the pillow spinning back. "Did you see my room? Twin bed. They don't even know what *sex* is."
"Oh they know." The pillow went high, but Dick managed to snag it before it went out the window. "They just don't let it interfere with their little fantasy." He clearly considers a return toss, then stuffs the pillow behind his neck instead. His grin says Dinah is out of luck. If she wanted a pillow, she shouldn't have tossed it.
"Take a good look at Mayfair and Brooks. And kitchen gossip says Renwick and the Doc used to be real close the first time he came here. Of course, that was before princess Pocahontas-South came across with do-it-yourself godhood."
"Which..em..straightened everyone out?"
"Well Renny got Pat, Doc got Mona and enough gold to make him a player - at least by fifties standards- and everyone got their own little jungle paradise for the cable remake of 'the man who would be king'."
"He..hasn't done that badly by the job." I try to be objective. "The city seems prosperous. The clinic was..almost modern."
"And no one's holding an election any time soon." Dick's voice takes a sarcastic edge. "This place might be pushing 1950 in terms of technology, but socially they are more 1590. If that. Savage is god around here - and that's no joke."
Annoying.. but not our business. As long as he's not actually eating babies Savage can have any government he can talk the locals into tolerating. I'm no Ollie Queen. And I'm not up to backing another revolution. Well, not today. Which, judging from Dinah's suddenly feral expression, means I'd better end whatever she has in mind before it starts.
"Take it up with Oracle when you get home." I claim one of the pillows from Dick. "But on my time, you don't take side jobs."
"Ohh. Nasty." Dinah starts to stick out her tongue, then just grins. "No wonder I'm two timing you with Jones."
I smile back. "What do I expect from a bleached-blond torch singer?"
"You are such a bastard."
"Wayne is a bastard," I agree.
"I don't think this crew is going to consider that a good excuse for my moving on to Indy." Dinah swivels around to sit cross legged, since she's not going to get her pillow back from either of us. "And they're going to believe the playboy of Gotham is suddenly one of the Challengers of the Unknown?
"What playboy of Gotham?" Dick shrugs. "These folks think CNN is a misspelling for misdemeanor."
"Dick's right," I add. "All this crew knows is that I've got more money then God, and the balls to kick butt rather then run home when the mean-old-pirates gave me grief. And we leave it there. Understood?"
"So I'm your fluffy little love bunny? Or do I pull my Emma Peel routine?
"That depends." I give it a moments thought. Bimbo would be safest in terms of persona, but I will probably need her in the field. "Watch my back. Take your cues as you get them. It's possible ..."
I cut off as I hear footsteps outside the door. By the time S'uuj pulls back the heavy curtain, Dick is standing and Dinah and I are seated politely in the only two seats.
"Mr. Wayne?" She inquires politely. "Kin Kawil Savage asks if you would join him in his office."
"I would be delighted," I answer, reaching for my jacket. These people are that formal. Besides which, the pockets allow me to keep a few toys - just in case.
I don't look back. No need. Dick and Dinah fall in unasked.
S'uuj seems taken a bit aback when they follow me from the room. "Your... people...", she begins, clearly torn between between local expectations and a fear of 'overstepping'. Too bad for her. I was trained by Alfred. I've been squashing presumptuous employees since I was eight.
"My people *are* me." With the clear implication that, if Doc has any objections, he can damn well make them clear - himself.
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He doesn't - quite. A few tight lips and sideways looks from the crew, but no one actually asks Dick and Dinah to leave. I get the impression Mona is not so thrilled with my attitude. Fine. I'm not so thrilled with her problem.
Mona Savage's nasty look is the first thing I notice when I walk thru the door. Probably because its the only thing out of place. I check out the room. Bigger version of the library. Serious money desk, conference table to one side, decent supply of good leather chairs.
Littlejohn stands up to offer me his. Polite of him, because , large as it is, the room is booked. I just as politely decline. I'm younger, and I prefer to be able to move.
Mayfair and Brooks are together on the left side, Littlejohn once again claiming desk space behind a pile of books. Savage is standing by the desk. Anyone else would sit on it, but he's playing this formal. Or he just likes to pace. His wife Mona seated a few feet away keeping a proprietary eye on the chair that *should* be his.
Both of the Renwick's are off to the right chatting with a well-scrubbed looking young man decked out in the upscale version of the local kilt and top. The young man is , I assume, Captain Muwan. Captain of the Guard, Virginia Renwick's finance, and all around 'marry into the family' loyal flunky.
Two other men in the scaled down version of the same uniform. Command personnel. I place the anxious one in his twenties as Muwan's lieutenant or equivalent. The older man? He has no obvious expression, but gives off serious vibes of just wanting this to be over. Call him a sergeant.
So. The whole Hidalgo crew, with the presumed exception of the kids and Thomas J. Roberts. Unless he's moved in the last week, he should still be back in Crescent City. From the first report, I would have expected him to be in the thick of things. But? I suppose somebody had to stay and mind the shop.
Even so, this is clearly the Committee of the Whole. Plus one last minute addition from Gotham. Dick and Dinah are sitting in - well standing, but they are here. Here and at point formation. That caught a few looks, but Savage hasn't bothered to be insulted by my caution, and what Savage says goes. So my crew is in - abet hanging back and faking out the wallpaper. Or, to go by Mona's slide-over non-look, becoming a part of it. It would burn me - if I cared. As Dick says, a bunch of geriatric gajae. As Dinah would say, once back to Gotham I can always drop then from my invitation list. Not that they were on it.
Savage waves Muwan forward. "Bruce, good news."
"I assume that means the Captain here has found the dagger, and now we're here to draw straws as to who goes and gets it?"
"Ah, Bruce," he laughs. The first truly joyous response I have seen from him. "Just as headstrong as your father. But you also seem to have his courage."
I give him my shark smile. The one I so seldom get a chance to use. It feels good. "I know how to handle things. As he did."
"His modesty too." Brooks tries to make it a rebuke, but his smile lets me know that, while that trait is sorely lacking in us both, no one in this pack of adventurers really considers it a loss. Still, he follows it with a half-frown probably designed to settle over- enthusiastic students. "Why don't we let the Captain tell us himself?"
"Kin Kawil Savage, noble ladies, gentleman." The young man begins. His English is excellent despite a local accent. "Pau'ah and his troops have returned from a reconnaissance of Yankuikan, and I regret to report..."
"They have the Jaguar's Tongue." Renwick finishes the sentence.
"Yes, sir." The answer is automatic, followed a second later by a more hesitant "Or so we believe."
The older man - presumedly Pau'ah, steps forward. Less accustomed to English, to judge by his careful cadence, but the result was clear enough to understand. "None of our watchers were able to see the blade itself, but... the city is busy, the altars are decorated, and the priests are clearly preparing for a major sacrifice."
"Littlejohn?" Savage looks over. "Any other reason?"
"Calendrically? Scarcely." He rubs his finger over his lip in abstraction. " Nonetheless, given Tepiltzin I could believe any diverse deliberation. That individuals ambition is excess to his devotion. But absent a compulsory commemoration..."
"They got tha knife," Mayfair finished for him.
I sympathize. Littlejohn or Jones, there is something about archaeology that seems to make men incapable of giving a straight answer.
I listen to the rest of the story with half an ear. Dick will remind me of anything important, and at the moment I am learning more from the faces around me then from an already predictable report.
"Thank you, Captain." Savage's voice recaptures my attention.
Muwan give a half bow. "The troops are ready. Within two days we can have them at Yankuikan."
And that - to judge by expressions - is that.
"So, Bruce," Savage says as he gives the Captain a nod of dismissal. "I assume you want to join with us?" He phrases it as a question, but his tone is that of a forgone conclusion.
"Go with you? No." I permit myself a moments amusements while scanning the shocked faces. "Instead."
"You really think..." Mayfair begins, outraged.
"No." I cut him off. "I know." Ignoring him, I speak to Savage. "You have an army. So does Tepiltzin. March them around and you can get a lot of people killed. Other then that? A waste of time and effort."
"And what da ya think you'd do." Mayfair again, rallying to the defense of his leader.
I want to answer 'More then you can imagine', but I think it wiser to ignore the question instead. At least for now. Better to put the conversation back on the rational path. Besides, the only one who's opinions matter is Savage.
"What you want is the knife."
He nods. I get the impression that he is more amused then impressed by my apparent impudence, but he's listening. I can work with that. So I make it a question. "Why bother with the city?"
"I suppose you have some other bright idea?" Once again Mayfair, but as Savage isn't frowning I decide that the red-haired man has been deputized to play Devil's Advocate. Fine with me. The fewer objections this crew hears from Savage, the easier they will be to bring around.
I'm tempted to respond with 'Always'. But again that answer might be a bit undiplomatic. "You get me to the City. I take my two. We get in, get the knife, and get back before Tepiltzin can move. You have the knife back in less than a day."
Renwick is nodding. I think that the commando angle appeals to something in his nature. Mayfair is still suspicious. Brooks likes the idea, but not me.
"You, your man, and Dr. Jones?", he asks. "I don't think..."
"Jones I brought in to point out the birds." Not entirely true, but true as far as they need to know. "Strike team is myself, Grayson, and Lance."
"You would take your girlfriend..." Renwick sounds horrified.
"Girlfriend?" I slant one eyebrow. "Lance is my bodyguard."
"A girl?" Mayfair's tone grows even more suspicious, if that is possible. "I've never heard..."
"Were you asking?" Dinah steps forward and strikes her best pose. "I can give you references. But then you'd have to pay my interview fee. And afterwards I'd still turn you down."
That sets Mayfair back - visibly.
"Clever." Patricia Renwick nods at her husband. "A secret second guard behind the first." from her tone she admires either my tactics or my deviousness, I'm not clear which. She takes a closer looks at Dick. "Or is Mr. Grayson not...?
"Mr. Grayson?" I give her an even darker smile then the one I used on her sister-in-law. "Let's just say that...if I wanted your bloody Tongue? He'd get it for me."
The room falls still, except for a few low inhalations. Damn, I can see why the villains smirk so often. This is fun.
"You couldn't..." Mona Savage, barely above a whisper.
Mayfair starts to say something.
Dick cuts him off with a glance. "I took the Spirit of the Eternal Soul away from Ra's al Ghul. In Gotham. Right under the eyes of the Batman."
"You have..." Mona Savage looks at Dick with a sudden respect.
Become a threat, I mentally finish her sentence. Because if I would send him to take that, then why not go for the Jaguar's Tongue. "Not any more," I answer for him. That relaxes her slightly, so I add, " That statue is back with the monks. Where it belongs."
"You would...?" Patricia Renwick makes a vague gesture connecting Dick and myself.
"At his word," Dick answers, low and lethal. "Now. Always. Whatever."
Savage smiles at me. "My complements, Bruce. You have not only matched your father, you have exceeded him."
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After that it's a matter of details. Where, as Alfred taught me, the Devil dwells. Chief devil here being my restrictions on what I can tell them. Oh, I can refer to my resources. The toys and props, the skills and techniques. Those things would raise eyebrows in the real world, but in this isolated fantasia they pass unquestioned. No one here has heard of airhead Bruce. I doubt they would believe the stories if they had. To them, the decision to train in judo and go adventuring is as undebated as the desire to breath air. Nomex and kevlar weave earns a question of where and how much, but never why.
Do we act like this? Is the JLA, in it's way, just as cosmically provincial? I make a mental note to talk to J'onn. He will know. An unanticipated benefit of our friendship. Telepaths make wonderful psychiatrists. I don't mind being mad, but I can not afford to lose touch with reality.
And reality here is definitely in question. Although they have a remarkably clear grasp of facts on the ground. And Savage is almost as brilliant of a tactician as he believes he is.
So, after several hours of maps and lists, we are agreed. Not quite as easily as I would like. My team of four-at-most has expanded to include most of the room. Plus several of Captain Muwan's best men. Plus half the Army marching behind us to cover our back. No matter. The basic plan is sound.
END CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
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It only takes a few minutes to upload my requests to Oracle. Primarily information on the new list of local players, but also a request that someone take a second look at the Templar case. She promises Cachiru. Good. By this time tomorrow I'll know the ancestry of every *fly* that buzzed that corpse.
Dinah missed breakfast, but she has the good sense to be up and dressed in time for morning briefing. Not that I'd normally refer it this as anything that formal. Dinah is sprawled over the recently erected cot, tossing my much maligned pillow back at Dick and making rude faces as I recount the morning's stories.
"And she actually brought in a bed? You think ..?" The pillow, in return flight, cut off her words.
Dick rolled on the other bed. "I don't think they know what gay is."
I stifled my own mental retort of 'not even moderately happy'. Dick has a way of bringing out the punster in the best of us.
"Probably right." Dinah sent the pillow spinning back. "Did you see my room? Twin bed. They don't even know what *sex* is."
"Oh they know." The pillow went high, but Dick managed to snag it before it went out the window. "They just don't let it interfere with their little fantasy." He clearly considers a return toss, then stuffs the pillow behind his neck instead. His grin says Dinah is out of luck. If she wanted a pillow, she shouldn't have tossed it.
"Take a good look at Mayfair and Brooks. And kitchen gossip says Renwick and the Doc used to be real close the first time he came here. Of course, that was before princess Pocahontas-South came across with do-it-yourself godhood."
"Which..em..straightened everyone out?"
"Well Renny got Pat, Doc got Mona and enough gold to make him a player - at least by fifties standards- and everyone got their own little jungle paradise for the cable remake of 'the man who would be king'."
"He..hasn't done that badly by the job." I try to be objective. "The city seems prosperous. The clinic was..almost modern."
"And no one's holding an election any time soon." Dick's voice takes a sarcastic edge. "This place might be pushing 1950 in terms of technology, but socially they are more 1590. If that. Savage is god around here - and that's no joke."
Annoying.. but not our business. As long as he's not actually eating babies Savage can have any government he can talk the locals into tolerating. I'm no Ollie Queen. And I'm not up to backing another revolution. Well, not today. Which, judging from Dinah's suddenly feral expression, means I'd better end whatever she has in mind before it starts.
"Take it up with Oracle when you get home." I claim one of the pillows from Dick. "But on my time, you don't take side jobs."
"Ohh. Nasty." Dinah starts to stick out her tongue, then just grins. "No wonder I'm two timing you with Jones."
I smile back. "What do I expect from a bleached-blond torch singer?"
"You are such a bastard."
"Wayne is a bastard," I agree.
"I don't think this crew is going to consider that a good excuse for my moving on to Indy." Dinah swivels around to sit cross legged, since she's not going to get her pillow back from either of us. "And they're going to believe the playboy of Gotham is suddenly one of the Challengers of the Unknown?
"What playboy of Gotham?" Dick shrugs. "These folks think CNN is a misspelling for misdemeanor."
"Dick's right," I add. "All this crew knows is that I've got more money then God, and the balls to kick butt rather then run home when the mean-old-pirates gave me grief. And we leave it there. Understood?"
"So I'm your fluffy little love bunny? Or do I pull my Emma Peel routine?
"That depends." I give it a moments thought. Bimbo would be safest in terms of persona, but I will probably need her in the field. "Watch my back. Take your cues as you get them. It's possible ..."
I cut off as I hear footsteps outside the door. By the time S'uuj pulls back the heavy curtain, Dick is standing and Dinah and I are seated politely in the only two seats.
"Mr. Wayne?" She inquires politely. "Kin Kawil Savage asks if you would join him in his office."
"I would be delighted," I answer, reaching for my jacket. These people are that formal. Besides which, the pockets allow me to keep a few toys - just in case.
I don't look back. No need. Dick and Dinah fall in unasked.
S'uuj seems taken a bit aback when they follow me from the room. "Your... people...", she begins, clearly torn between between local expectations and a fear of 'overstepping'. Too bad for her. I was trained by Alfred. I've been squashing presumptuous employees since I was eight.
"My people *are* me." With the clear implication that, if Doc has any objections, he can damn well make them clear - himself.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
He doesn't - quite. A few tight lips and sideways looks from the crew, but no one actually asks Dick and Dinah to leave. I get the impression Mona is not so thrilled with my attitude. Fine. I'm not so thrilled with her problem.
Mona Savage's nasty look is the first thing I notice when I walk thru the door. Probably because its the only thing out of place. I check out the room. Bigger version of the library. Serious money desk, conference table to one side, decent supply of good leather chairs.
Littlejohn stands up to offer me his. Polite of him, because , large as it is, the room is booked. I just as politely decline. I'm younger, and I prefer to be able to move.
Mayfair and Brooks are together on the left side, Littlejohn once again claiming desk space behind a pile of books. Savage is standing by the desk. Anyone else would sit on it, but he's playing this formal. Or he just likes to pace. His wife Mona seated a few feet away keeping a proprietary eye on the chair that *should* be his.
Both of the Renwick's are off to the right chatting with a well-scrubbed looking young man decked out in the upscale version of the local kilt and top. The young man is , I assume, Captain Muwan. Captain of the Guard, Virginia Renwick's finance, and all around 'marry into the family' loyal flunky.
Two other men in the scaled down version of the same uniform. Command personnel. I place the anxious one in his twenties as Muwan's lieutenant or equivalent. The older man? He has no obvious expression, but gives off serious vibes of just wanting this to be over. Call him a sergeant.
So. The whole Hidalgo crew, with the presumed exception of the kids and Thomas J. Roberts. Unless he's moved in the last week, he should still be back in Crescent City. From the first report, I would have expected him to be in the thick of things. But? I suppose somebody had to stay and mind the shop.
Even so, this is clearly the Committee of the Whole. Plus one last minute addition from Gotham. Dick and Dinah are sitting in - well standing, but they are here. Here and at point formation. That caught a few looks, but Savage hasn't bothered to be insulted by my caution, and what Savage says goes. So my crew is in - abet hanging back and faking out the wallpaper. Or, to go by Mona's slide-over non-look, becoming a part of it. It would burn me - if I cared. As Dick says, a bunch of geriatric gajae. As Dinah would say, once back to Gotham I can always drop then from my invitation list. Not that they were on it.
Savage waves Muwan forward. "Bruce, good news."
"I assume that means the Captain here has found the dagger, and now we're here to draw straws as to who goes and gets it?"
"Ah, Bruce," he laughs. The first truly joyous response I have seen from him. "Just as headstrong as your father. But you also seem to have his courage."
I give him my shark smile. The one I so seldom get a chance to use. It feels good. "I know how to handle things. As he did."
"His modesty too." Brooks tries to make it a rebuke, but his smile lets me know that, while that trait is sorely lacking in us both, no one in this pack of adventurers really considers it a loss. Still, he follows it with a half-frown probably designed to settle over- enthusiastic students. "Why don't we let the Captain tell us himself?"
"Kin Kawil Savage, noble ladies, gentleman." The young man begins. His English is excellent despite a local accent. "Pau'ah and his troops have returned from a reconnaissance of Yankuikan, and I regret to report..."
"They have the Jaguar's Tongue." Renwick finishes the sentence.
"Yes, sir." The answer is automatic, followed a second later by a more hesitant "Or so we believe."
The older man - presumedly Pau'ah, steps forward. Less accustomed to English, to judge by his careful cadence, but the result was clear enough to understand. "None of our watchers were able to see the blade itself, but... the city is busy, the altars are decorated, and the priests are clearly preparing for a major sacrifice."
"Littlejohn?" Savage looks over. "Any other reason?"
"Calendrically? Scarcely." He rubs his finger over his lip in abstraction. " Nonetheless, given Tepiltzin I could believe any diverse deliberation. That individuals ambition is excess to his devotion. But absent a compulsory commemoration..."
"They got tha knife," Mayfair finished for him.
I sympathize. Littlejohn or Jones, there is something about archaeology that seems to make men incapable of giving a straight answer.
I listen to the rest of the story with half an ear. Dick will remind me of anything important, and at the moment I am learning more from the faces around me then from an already predictable report.
"Thank you, Captain." Savage's voice recaptures my attention.
Muwan give a half bow. "The troops are ready. Within two days we can have them at Yankuikan."
And that - to judge by expressions - is that.
"So, Bruce," Savage says as he gives the Captain a nod of dismissal. "I assume you want to join with us?" He phrases it as a question, but his tone is that of a forgone conclusion.
"Go with you? No." I permit myself a moments amusements while scanning the shocked faces. "Instead."
"You really think..." Mayfair begins, outraged.
"No." I cut him off. "I know." Ignoring him, I speak to Savage. "You have an army. So does Tepiltzin. March them around and you can get a lot of people killed. Other then that? A waste of time and effort."
"And what da ya think you'd do." Mayfair again, rallying to the defense of his leader.
I want to answer 'More then you can imagine', but I think it wiser to ignore the question instead. At least for now. Better to put the conversation back on the rational path. Besides, the only one who's opinions matter is Savage.
"What you want is the knife."
He nods. I get the impression that he is more amused then impressed by my apparent impudence, but he's listening. I can work with that. So I make it a question. "Why bother with the city?"
"I suppose you have some other bright idea?" Once again Mayfair, but as Savage isn't frowning I decide that the red-haired man has been deputized to play Devil's Advocate. Fine with me. The fewer objections this crew hears from Savage, the easier they will be to bring around.
I'm tempted to respond with 'Always'. But again that answer might be a bit undiplomatic. "You get me to the City. I take my two. We get in, get the knife, and get back before Tepiltzin can move. You have the knife back in less than a day."
Renwick is nodding. I think that the commando angle appeals to something in his nature. Mayfair is still suspicious. Brooks likes the idea, but not me.
"You, your man, and Dr. Jones?", he asks. "I don't think..."
"Jones I brought in to point out the birds." Not entirely true, but true as far as they need to know. "Strike team is myself, Grayson, and Lance."
"You would take your girlfriend..." Renwick sounds horrified.
"Girlfriend?" I slant one eyebrow. "Lance is my bodyguard."
"A girl?" Mayfair's tone grows even more suspicious, if that is possible. "I've never heard..."
"Were you asking?" Dinah steps forward and strikes her best pose. "I can give you references. But then you'd have to pay my interview fee. And afterwards I'd still turn you down."
That sets Mayfair back - visibly.
"Clever." Patricia Renwick nods at her husband. "A secret second guard behind the first." from her tone she admires either my tactics or my deviousness, I'm not clear which. She takes a closer looks at Dick. "Or is Mr. Grayson not...?
"Mr. Grayson?" I give her an even darker smile then the one I used on her sister-in-law. "Let's just say that...if I wanted your bloody Tongue? He'd get it for me."
The room falls still, except for a few low inhalations. Damn, I can see why the villains smirk so often. This is fun.
"You couldn't..." Mona Savage, barely above a whisper.
Mayfair starts to say something.
Dick cuts him off with a glance. "I took the Spirit of the Eternal Soul away from Ra's al Ghul. In Gotham. Right under the eyes of the Batman."
"You have..." Mona Savage looks at Dick with a sudden respect.
Become a threat, I mentally finish her sentence. Because if I would send him to take that, then why not go for the Jaguar's Tongue. "Not any more," I answer for him. That relaxes her slightly, so I add, " That statue is back with the monks. Where it belongs."
"You would...?" Patricia Renwick makes a vague gesture connecting Dick and myself.
"At his word," Dick answers, low and lethal. "Now. Always. Whatever."
Savage smiles at me. "My complements, Bruce. You have not only matched your father, you have exceeded him."
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
After that it's a matter of details. Where, as Alfred taught me, the Devil dwells. Chief devil here being my restrictions on what I can tell them. Oh, I can refer to my resources. The toys and props, the skills and techniques. Those things would raise eyebrows in the real world, but in this isolated fantasia they pass unquestioned. No one here has heard of airhead Bruce. I doubt they would believe the stories if they had. To them, the decision to train in judo and go adventuring is as undebated as the desire to breath air. Nomex and kevlar weave earns a question of where and how much, but never why.
Do we act like this? Is the JLA, in it's way, just as cosmically provincial? I make a mental note to talk to J'onn. He will know. An unanticipated benefit of our friendship. Telepaths make wonderful psychiatrists. I don't mind being mad, but I can not afford to lose touch with reality.
And reality here is definitely in question. Although they have a remarkably clear grasp of facts on the ground. And Savage is almost as brilliant of a tactician as he believes he is.
So, after several hours of maps and lists, we are agreed. Not quite as easily as I would like. My team of four-at-most has expanded to include most of the room. Plus several of Captain Muwan's best men. Plus half the Army marching behind us to cover our back. No matter. The basic plan is sound.
END CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE