Rise of a Hero (The Farsala Trilogy) by Hilari Bell

it can be done.”
    “What makes you certain he’ll hold on long enough to figure that out?” Jiaan demanded. “You should have stayed to help prop him up.”
    “Kaluud and Markhan will do that. After all, the army they want to fight is here, not—”
    “Skulking in the hills, like rabbits,” Jiaan finished. “You really think they can keep the governor’s nerve steady?”
    “Without difficulty,” said Fasal. “After you left the dinner table, Markhan reminded the governor that all the high houses are gone. If Mazad holds for a year, there won’t be anyone for the Hrum to negotiate with, except Governor Nehar.”
    The fire was already thrusting greedy fingers into the thick suburbs that surrounded the river. It might not cross the water, but the buildings between the river and the wall were clearly doomed.
    “Markhan didn’t come right out and say it,” Fasal continued. “But Nehar could easily end up gahn—by Hrum decree, Arzhang take him.”
    The djinn of treacherous ambition would have no trouble claiming that one. “You’re right,” said Jiaan. “If anything could put steel into Nehar’s soul, the hope of becoming gahn would do it.” And trust another deghan to figure that out. He really might become gahn, with Markhan and Kaluud as his right and left hands. It was a prospect so dismaying that Jiaan began to laugh—it was that, or cry. But Fasal was looking at him oddly. “Sorry.Anyway, the governor refused to surrender—then what?”
    “Well, I don’t know what he said,” Fasal went on, “but it was evidently . . . firm. The officer marched back to his men, all stiff spined, and a few moments later they sent a flight of arrows at the walls. I think it was mostly meant as a gesture, but the wind was with them and a few of the arrows made it. So our people fired back, and even with the wind against them the extra height told in their favor, so some of their arrows reached the Hrum as well. Those people can raise their shields into formation unbelievably fast.”
    Jiaan laughed, with real humor this time.
    “Aren’t you upset about this?” Fasal gestured to the burning town. “They set the fires as soon as their own people marched out. Weren’t you the one who was so concerned about saving peasants’ livelihoods?”
    “The suburbs couldn’t have survived,” said Jiaan. “And it’s not like there’s anyone left there. So, far from being upset, I’m delighted. This is the first stupid thing I’ve seen the Hrum do.”
    “I don’t think it’s stupid,” said Fasal. “I think seeing their homes burn will make these peoplefrightened, and hopeless, and they’ll be more likely to yield.”
    “And I think it will make them angry,” said Jiaan, “and more likely to fight to the death. But what really matters is that once the fires have died, the ground around the walls will be clear of all but rubble. Any approaching force will be visible. If the Hrum hadn’t burned those buildings, Commander Siddas would have had to, but that wouldn’t have been a popular move, so he maneuvered the Hrum into making it for him. And if the Hrum commander is that foolish . . . Well, let’s just say that I’m feeling very good about Mazad. Especially if we can give them some support. But we’d better go. Eventually, even that commander is going to stop watching the bonfires and send out some patrols.”
    Fasal followed him down the hill and mounted in thoughtful silence. He even took Markhan’s horse’s lead before Jiaan asked him to.
    “Why didn’t you stay behind?” Jiaan inquired. Markhan and Kaluud stood a good chance of becoming the new gahn’s right and left hands; Fasal could have been the new gahn’s brain.
    “I want to fight for Farsala,” said Fasal, “not Governor Nehar. Not even if he’s the only one left to become gahn.”
    “That’s a horrible thought, isn’t it?”
    Fasal stiffened. “The gahn is the gahn.”
    Jiaan suppressed a sigh. “So why didn’t you