“We’re already buying up surpluses from five hundred years ago,” said Ramex. “Not that there aren’t plenty of other good years to buy from. But every purchase of grain improves the past economy, which changes history.”

They didn’t want to do that. Couldn’t afford to find themselves facing a much more popular or powerful enemy than Haddamander as the general of Hagia’s army. What if they changed history so the Sessamoto Empire was much better governed? So there had never been a People’s Revolution? So that Haddamander was, not the scion of a persecuted noble family, but the pampered, celebrated son of a great house? Might he not have been married to Hagia in the first place, instead of Rigg’s and Param’s own father? Just how much could they meddle in the past without causing vast, confusing changes?

Yet they had to feed their army—and, if their army suddenly appeared in the streets of Aressa Sessamo, all the citizens of the city as well.

What they needed was a quick, decisive, irresistible victory. Param had expected Rigg to argue against something so violent, but he surprised her. “I know you think I’m a pacifist of some sort,” said Rigg, “but that isn’t so. What will save the most lives is to have a quick, brutal, thorough victory, so the war ends with the one battle.”

“True,” said Loaf. “No matter which side wins, a decisive battle would definitely shorten the war.”

“I’d like us to win,” said Olivenko.

“You know we’ll win, eventually,” said Square. “Because if we lose, Umbo will come back to this very meeting and give us the information that will let us make better decisions.”

“Only if he has the brains to stay here during the fight,” said Loaf, “so he doesn’t have to travel back here, possibly pursued by enemies, after a devastating defeat.”

Umbo merely shook his head.

“Umbo is right,” said Param. “He can’t stay here in the tent, far from any of the battle sites. How will he even know the outcome of the battle, or what went wrong, if he spends the whole battle here? If there’s anyone who can easily evade pursuit and return here to give warning, it’s Umbo.”

Umbo said nothing. Merely continued looking at the map.

“And just as importantly,” said Param, “Umbo is King-in-the-Tent. The soldiers need to see him with them. They love him and respect him, as a man, in ways they can’t respect me, a woman.”

Umbo glanced at her for a moment, then back down at the map. She could not read anything into his glance.

Silence around the table.

“It seems to me,” Param finally said, “that every possible battle­ground has drawbacks and advantages. Every possible battle­ground has ways of turning into disaster or triumph. Is that true?”