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"Point one: approach. No drums. Signals by cord and hand only. Oru — harriers at ten and thirty paces off the flanks. Not farther. I want the veil on our ribs, not playing ghost stories."
Oru smiled with half a mouth. "I have men who can walk under a hawk and make the hawk feel foolish. They'll stay leashed." Then, with a lazy flick of fingers toward the mountain, "Crown or no crown, throats still close when squeezed."
"Point two: ground," Mardek continued. "Skall lays reed-mat causeways across soft backs of dunes. Last span gets yanked when the rear steps off. If the sand caves, we don't."
Skall held up a spade; iron winked. "Causeways every hundred paces on the worst bellies; teeth every third mat," he said. "If the white hair charges blind, the floor eats him."
Oru snorted lightly. "If he charges blind, I'll sell tickets."