Shadow of the giant

about probing ahead," said
the general in charge of that contingent. "Raw troops, marching blind. As
I watched them, I kept thinking, this must be an attempt to deceive us. But no—
they keep passing, with large gaps in the line, stragglers, and only a few
regiments that put out scouts. None of them came close to finding us. They
haven't put a single observer on either ridge. They're lazy"
    When, later in the day, the other two hidden contingents
reported a similar story, Suriyawong relayed the information back to Ambul.
While he waited for the next triggering event, he had his lookouts make a
particular point of searching for any sign that Virlomi herself was traveling
with any of the three armies.
    There was no mystery about it. She was traveling with the
northernmost Indian army, riding in an open jeep, and the troops cheered when
she passed, moving up and down the line—slowing down her own army's advance in
the process, since they had to move off the road for her.
    Suriyawong heard this with sadness. She had been so
brilliant. Her assessment of how to undo the Chinese occupation had been dead
on. Her holding action to keep the Chinese from returning to India or
re-supplying when the Persians and Pakistanis invaded had been of Thermopylaean
proportions. The difference was that Virlomi was more careful than the
Spartans—she had already covered all the back roads. Nothing got past her Indian
guerrillas.
    She was beautiful and wise and mysterious. Suriyawong had
rescued her once, and cooperated in the little drama that made the rescue
possible—and played upon her reputation as a goddess.
    But in those days, she had known she was just acting.
    Or had she? Perhaps it was her intimations of godhood that
had caused her to reject Suriyawong's overtures of friendship and
more-than-friendship. The blow had been painful, but he wasn't angry with her.
She had an aura of greatness about her that he had seen in no other commander,
not even Bean.
    The troop deployments she was showing here were not what he
would have expected from the woman who had been so careful of her men's lives
in all her previous actions. Nor from the woman who had wept over the bodies of
the victims of Muslim atrocities. Didn't she see that she was leading the
soldiers to disaster? Even if there were no ambush in these mountains—though it
was absolutely predictable that there would be—an army this ragged could be
destroyed at will by a trained and determined enemy.
    As Euripides wrote, Whom the gods would destroy, they first
make mad.
    Ambul, knowing how Suriyawong felt about Virlomi, had
offered to let him command only that part of the army that wouldn't face her
directly. But Suri refused. "Remember what Bean said Ender taught. 'To
know the enemy well enough to defeat him requires that you know him so well you
can't help but love him.' "
    Well, Suriyawong already loved this enemy. And knew her.
Well enough that he even thought he understood this madness.
    She wasn't vain. She never thought she'd survive. But all
her plans kept succeeding. She couldn't believe that it was because of her own
ability. So she thinks that she has some kind of divine favor.
    But it was her abilities and training, and she isn't using
them now, and her army is going to pay for it.
    Suriyawong had left plenty of room for the Indians to move
down the valleys before they reached the ambush. They weren't traveling at the
same pace, so he had to make sure all three ambushes were sprung at the same
time. He had to make sure all three armies passed through the top of the trap
in their entirety. His instructions to his men were clear: Accept the surrender
of any soldier who throws down his weapon and puts up his hands. Kill anyone
who doesn't. But let no one out of the valley. All killed or captured.
    And Virlomi alive, if she lets us.
    Please let us, Virlomi. Please let us bring you back to
reality. Back to life.
     
     
    Han Tzu went among his troops. There was no nonsense about
an invisible emperor. The soldiers of the Chinese army had chosen him and
sustained his authority. He was theirs, and they would see him often, sharing
their privations, listening to them, explaining to them.
    It was what he had learned from Ender. If you give orders
and explain nothing, you might get obedience, but you'll get no creativity. If
you tell them your purpose, then when your original plan is shown to be faulty,
they'll find another way to achieve your goal. Explaining to your men