“Patience,” said Anji with an unexpected smile. After a night off his feet, he was still stiff, but his gait was steady. He surveyed his troops: the Olossi militiamen, four Qin guardsmen, and forty or so locals. “We have to keep them pinned on the other bank. How deep is the river?”

“Shallow to the height of a man for more than a stone’s throw from shore on this side. The current cuts closer to the far shore, and has for years. That’s why the ferry leads on this side. You can see there’s a ramp of paving stones somewhat eroded on the other side. It gets steep fast.”

“The current will pull them downstream.”

“Downstream the bank on our side gets steep, as the current shifts. If I were them, I’d put the rafts into the water upstream and aim for the shoals here.”

Anji stared across the water. A great deal of movement was going on, upstream. “They seem to have the same idea. Yet I wonder. I read a tale once in the archives of the palace library . . . a hidden barricade under water that slowed the advance of a fleet.”

“May the Great Lady come to our aid, Captain. If you have any ideas at all, let us know them.”

Eyes still narrowed, Anji glanced at Joss. “Marshal?”

“We’ve some oil of naya, but with forest cover, wet ground, and mobile troops, it’s unlikely to meet with the same success as at Olossi.”

But Anji, Joss saw, had already ridden on in his own mind. He’d concocted a new plan, and like the others, Joss found himself wondering, waiting, and hoping.

“The oil of naya will find its use. But we don’t want to scatter them. We want to kill them. Here’s what we’ll do.”