The Guns of Empire by Django Wexler Page B

can.” She pointed to the road, which emerged from the woods at the north end of the rocky ridge and crossed the open space toward Gilphaite. “The Sixth Division should deploy astride the road, with the rest of the Second behind. Push forward to a mile or so from their line.” That would be extreme range for the Borelgai guns.
    â€œSir!” Cyte saluted and vanished into the underbrush. Winter turned to Erdine.
    â€œColonel, you’ve done well. As soon as Abby gets in place, pull your men back and get them re-formed. Then ride around the north end of the enemy line, past the hill. The map says there’s another road there, heading for the coast. Get sight of it if you can and tell me if anything starts moving in either direction.”
    â€œOf course, sir.” Erdine saluted, then swept off his hat and bowed. Winter rolled her eyes as he turned away and went back to her spyglass.
    A quarter of an hour passed, and the skirmishers in the valley kept up their long-range dispute. A rustle in the brush behind Winter turned into a loose column from the Girls’ Own, muskets shouldered as they pressed through the undergrowth. One of them shouted at the sight of Winter, and they all salutedas they went past. Winter acknowledged them with a nod, and found Abby bringing up the rear, as usual preferring to stay on foot.
    â€œSir,” Abby said, gesturing to a small crowd of young women who came up behind her. “The messengers you wanted.”
    â€œThanks,” Winter said. She waved at the panorama. “What do you think?”
    Abby frowned momentarily. “I think they’d better have something up their sleeves, or else we’re going to be presenting those guns to Janus by sundown.”
    Winter smiled. “Go and get them. But don’t push too hard if it turns out not to be that easy. I’ll send Ibsly in behind you.”
    â€œTell him to hurry up, or there won’t be anything left for him to do,” Abby said, and followed her soldiers, crashing down through the underbrush.
    Winter looked over her messengers. Most of them were
very
young—some of the girls couldn’t be older than fourteen or fifteen. The Girls’ Own’s policy of accepting recruits without asking too many questions meant they got their share of women who weren’t big enough to handle a long-barreled musket, but Abby had become good at finding uses for everyone. Fear and determination looked back at Winter from every face, along with quite a bit of acne.
    â€œForm a queue,” she told them. “Whoever’s at the front, start running as soon as I’ve finished the message, no questions. Understand?”
    They chorused assent and set to organizing themselves. Commanding a battle like this, watching from a distant vantage point, was a new experience for Winter. She’d always been down in the action, close enough to smell the powder smoke and hear the whine of bullets. Two divisions was too big a force to control that way, though, and she forced herself to ignore the tiny voice at the back of her mind that told her staying at such a far remove seemed cowardly.
    It’s not your job to risk your life,
Janus had told her.
That’s what the rankers are there for. I know that sounds callous, but it’s an inevitable truth. Think of it like this—there’s nine thousand of them and only one division-general. You have to be able to see the battle as a whole and be the calm voice when everything goes to hell.
    The Girls’ Own pushed out of the woods, across the flat ground. They formed a “line” only in the loosest sense, operating in pairs separated by ten or twenty yards, so they covered a very broad front. Erdine’s horsemen were withdrawing in good order, returning to their mounts and forming up in the rear, while the Girls’ Own walked past them and took up the fight with the Borelgai skirmishers on the hill. One woman in each pair