When Suriyawong got the word from Peter, he was ready. Prime Minister Paribatra and Minister of Defense Ambul had kept their affiliation with the FPE secret for just this occasion. Now, armed with Burmese and Chinese permission to pass through their territory, the Thai army was going to have the chance to face the Indians who had begun all this nonsense with their vicious, unprovoked invasion of Burma and Thailand.

The troops went by train all the way into Chinese territory; Chinese trucks with Chinese drivers ferried them the rest of the way to the spots that Suriyawong had mapped out as soon as Peter suggested it as a contingency. At the time, Peter had said, “It’s a remote possibility, because it requires incredible stupidity on the part of some nonstupid people, but be ready.”

Ready to defend China. That was the irony.

But Han Tzu’s China was not the China that had embraced Achilles’s treacherous plan and crushed everyone, carrying away the entire Thai leadership and Suriyawong’s parents. Han Tzu promised friendship, and Bean vouched for him. So Suriyawong had been able to persuade his top leadership, and they had persuaded his men, that defending China was nothing more or less than a forward defense of Thailand.

“China has changed,” Suriyawong told the officers, “but India has not. Once again, they’re pouring over the border of a nation that believes itself to be at peace with them. This goddess they follow, Virlomi—she’s just another Battle School graduate, like me. But we have what she doesn’t have. We have Julian Delphiki’s plan. And we will win.”

Bean’s plan, however, was simple enough. “The only way to end this once and for all is to make it a disaster. Like Varus’s legions in the Teutoburger Wald. No guerrilla action. No chance of retreat. Virlomi alive if possible, but if she insists on dying, oblige her.”

That was the plan. But Suriyawong needed no more than that. The mountainous country of southwestern China and northern Burma was ambush country. Virlomi’s ill-trained troops were advancing on foot—ridiculously slowly—in three main columns, following three river valleys with three inadequate roads. Suriyawong’s own plans called for a simple, classical ambush on all three routes. He hid relatively small but heavily armed contingents at the heads of the valleys, where they would be passed by the Indian troops. Then far, far down the valley, he had far larger contingents with plenty of transport to move up the valley upon command.

Then it was a matter of waiting for two things.

The first thing came on the second day of waiting. The southernmost outpost notified him that their column had entered the valley and was moving briskly. This was no surprise—they had had a much easier trip than the two northern armies.

“They’re not careful 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.”