Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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women warriors in the Alliance had—but she got a good pair of shoulder-guards that could be adjusted,
and a new dagger. The rose glow of dawn had changed to the harsh gold of full day, showing with
wordless clarity the sleepy country landscape littered with corpses, darkened with blood.
"Word is, we've done our duty for the day," Shkai'ra told the unit, once she'd got Sova to read the letter
of orders. "We get the battle off. And we're duly commended, signed Brigadier-General First
Maka-unpronounceable." That brought a laugh, and shouted corrections from Yeolis in the unit.
She'd vaguely been hoping for the signature to be Chevenga's, actually.That really would have smelled
like promotion. I guess it's too much to expect for a mission of spearing fish in a barrel. Oh, well .
Brigadier-General First, as the Yeolis called it, was the position Shkai'ra aspired to, being the highest she
could hope for; it was directly under the First General First and meant membership in the privy
Command Council. And a name in history, if she helped keep this war going as it was.Maybe, as time
goes by and Gold-bottom gets more trustful of foreigners , she thought,I won't have to be a Yeoli to
get it .
"This doesn't meanyou get to relax," she said to Sova, once she'd dismissed the troop. "We're going to
watch from the most convenient hilltop and see if you can't learn a thing or two about commanding from
Gold-bottom himself?"
On a rise over the plain, they settled, with a motley crowd of other watchers, walking wounded, camp
followers and so forth. Reclining catlike on a blanket while Megan and Sova prepared the picnic,
Shkai'ra scanned the field, where, wide and distant as a painting, the two armies were deployed.
"Well, there you have it, apprentice. Plain ground, two armies straight on, everything wide open—a
strategist's fight. You knowour number, or at least what the rumors say, since it keeps getting bigger."
Sova had heard anything from sixty-five to seventy-two thousand in the last little while. "About sixty-odd
on the field today, nine-thousand cavalry. What would you say, from a look, istheirs ?"
Sova tried to estimate with a professional eye. "Uhhh… about the same? Maybe a little less?"
"Look closer," Shkai'ra barked.
"Ummm… less… uhhh…" The Kommanza's fingers drummed her knee significantly. "Oh, ya! Arkan
close order isn't as close as ours, so it makes them look like more—fifty thousand." She tried to make it
sound authoritative. "Would've been fifty-too thousand if it hadn't been for us this morning—heh, heh…
ahem. Judging by the number of cavalry they have, too. Yep. Fifty-thousand. I think."
"Good enough for our purposes," Shkai'ra sniffed. "All right. Tell me who's making the first mistake."
Sova surveyed the field through Shkai'ra's far-lookers, then squinted without them. "Nobody's moved
yet. I want to say the Arkans, but that's assuming. I don't think that the way he's got them ranked is that
smart—"
"Commanders say things clearly, girl. He who, Zh'ven'-gka or the strawhair?"
"The strawhair. I'd say him anyway because his center can't really move without plowing over everyone
else."