"It's hard to say in this light, but my guess would be Unseelie. We're closer to their border than ours, and in all my years in the Guard, I never knew the Seelie Army to send men this far north."

"Things may have changed in your absence," said Silverdun.

"Too much has changed in my absence," Mauritane said.

"Does it matter either way?" Satterly asked. "No matter which side they're on, it's not like we can just walk up to them and say hello, given our ... peculiar circumstances."

"True," said Mauritane, "but if they are Unseelie, I'll be much less concerned about killing them."

Mave gaped at him. "Will you truly kill Seelie men?"

"Not if I don't have to," said Mauritane.

"So what do we do?" said Satterly. "Do we double back and try to go another way?"

"No," said Mauritane. "We've lost too much time as it is, and there's no guarantee that there's another pass through these mountains anywhere near here. We go through."

Mauritane pulled out his pipe and stared at it, then tucked it away again with an annoyed grimace, looking toward the hill. "But first, let's be certain who we're dealing with. We need someone to reconnoiter. Silverdun, you do possess Poise?"

Silverdun sighed. "Not a shred. I can barely dance a quadrille."

Raieve stood up to her full height. "I don't claim any Gifts, but I damn well know how to move quietly. I spent my entire childhood avoiding Unseelie soldiers."

Mauritane nodded. "Fine. But be careful. And if you're spotted, signal us with a whistle and run."

Raieve smiled, tying back her braids with a bit of string. "If I'm spotted, your signal will be the scream of the first man I kill."

"A whistle will suffice," said Mauritane.

She gave Mauritane a curt salute and started up over the rise. Silverdun hissed after her, "Try not to kill them all before we get there."

Raieve crept along the side of the valley, moving from shadow to shadow. Here the valley narrowed, becoming almost a ravine, and it become more and more difficult to skirt its edge. The valley's bottom here sloped up gently for about thirty feet, then became nearly vertical, its rim at least a hundred feet above her head. As she approached the firelight ahead of her, she felt something akin to nostalgia overtake her. Tracking the Unseelie across dusty terrain, looking for an opportunity to strike; it was just the way she remembered. It was comfortable. It made sense to her.

And they were Unseelie, she could see that clearly now. There were seven of them, light cavalry, in a loose circle around the fire. They'd propped their long lances against a nearby rock. Their mounts stood too far from the fire, too much in the darkness, the reins looped haphazardly over the branches of a tree. In Avalon, Raieve and her friends had regularly stolen horses such as these. The men's boots were off, and they drank and laughed without caution.

One of them stood a desultory watch, but he spent as much time looking over his shoulder at his companions as he did watching the valley. If she timed it right, she could walk right up to him and cut his throat before he even noticed that she was there. Oh, they were Unseelie, all right. Their manner and their accents were proof enough; the markings on their uniforms were simply a confirmation of the obvious.

As she watched, they passed a bottle back and forth, telling jokes whose words she couldn't quite make out. Drunken. Sloppy. Easy prey.

The fingers of her right hand danced along the hilt of her sword. Part of her wanted to draw the blade and run at them, see how many of them she could take before they brought her down. It would be a fine way to die, dragging Unseelie soldiers to hell with her. It would be a death she understood, a death worth dying. Whatever lay at the end of Mauritane's mission was nothing she understood or particularly cared about. So why was she following? She'd given her word, yes, but was it dishonorable to break an oath to a non-Avalona? Or was there more to it than her word?

Grudgingly she let go of the sword and turned back.

"We go in on foot," said Mauritane, kneeling on the ground, drawing in the dust with a stick. "We don't have any ranged weapons, so we'll have to use a simple, direct attack. Raieve, can you move into position behind them without being spotted?"

"Aye," she said. "Easily."

"Good. We'll come within a hundred yards as a group, then you'll come around to the rear and wait. Silverdun, Mave, and I will move quickly, and with any luck we'll take them without a struggle."

"Uh," said Satterly, "what about me?"

"You'll stay behind us," said Mauritane, "twenty-five yards. If any of them flee past us, I'll expect you to make an attempt to stop them."

"Seriously?" said Satterly.

"Now is the time to test your mettle, human," said Mauritane, clapping him on the shoulder. "A man never knows if he can kill until the time comes. Pray to your god that you're able."

"I don't think my god answers prayers like that."

Raieve snorted. "Then what good is he?"

Mauritane ignored her. "Our intent is to capture, not kill. I have no wish to take lives wantonly, and these men may well possess useful information."

Ten minutes later, Raieve was in position. She waited, sword in hand, ready, the welcome rush of adrenaline brightening her senses. Some remnant of sunlight remained in the valley, but the already ubiquitous shadows were slowly spreading everywhere. The sentry, fool that he was, kept turning to his companions to comment on their conversation, looking at their fire each time, apparently unaware that he compromised his night vision every time he did so.

Mauritane leapt from the darkness so quickly it scarcely mattered. He clubbed the sentry viciously on the forehead with the hilt of his saber and the man fell without a sound. Silverdun and Gray Mave appeared in the firelight a moment later, flanking Mauritane.

"Hold!" shouted Mauritane, and even though the order was not directed at her, Raieve could sense the Leadership in his voice, focused into a command that nearly kept her rooted to the spot herself.

To her surprise, one of the Unseelie around the fire immediately sprang to his feet, a long, straight cavalry sword in hand. The insignia on his breast showed him to be a lieutenant. "To arms!" he shouted, and his men rose with admirable speed, each of them flashing hardened silver. Raieve was impressed; at least it would be a fair fight. She ran toward them.

But before the lieutenant could mount a defense, Silverdun made a snapping motion past him and the campfire erupted, spewing flame in every direction. Caught off guard, the Unseelie soldiers lurched away from the fire, and that was all it took. Mauritane managed to disarm two of them before Raieve reached the fight. His blade moved so quickly that it was scarcely visible in the firelight.

The Unseelie lieutenant, however, did not go down as easily. Mauritane engaged him, and the two men began to circle. Raieve's man was small but quick, and she secretly hoped it would become necessary to relieve him of his life before the thing was over. But then Silverdun's man went down, and a moment later the lieutenant called out his surrender.

Raieve took her opponent's sword brusquely and pushed him back toward the fire, which had resumed its former size. Soon all six men were kneeling before it.

In the melee, however, even Mauritane had forgotten about the sentry, who was stunned but not unconscious. He rose and lunged at his nearest opponent, who happened to be Satterly.

Raieve watched helplessly while the sentry rushed the hapless human. Satterly gamely held his sword up, but at the last moment, his arm dropped. Raieve winced, waiting for him to be run through. But instead of flinching away, Satterly leaned forward and rushed at the sentry's midsection. The sentry, expecting a sword thrust, had his sword aloft and Satterly's unexpected attack caught him off guard. The two men collided and Satterly drove the sentry backward. The man tripped and fell, catching the back of his skull on a stone, and was still. Raieve shrugged; all that counted in battle was victory.

Raieve turned back to the fire just in time to see the lieutenant turn his head back to where his horses were tied and shout, "Cas! Una'ar, cas!" There was a flash from one of the saddlebags and a tiny winged shape flitted into the air.

"Okay, okay! I'm going as fast as I can!" it shouted.

Mauritane plucked a knife from his belt and flicked it. The knife whirled in the air and bisected the message sprite neatly. It fell to the ground, and Mauritane walked slowly to it and ground it beneath his heel.

"Anything else?" he asked the lieutenant.

Mauritane ordered the Unseelie stripped naked and searched thoroughly, then placed in a line by the fire, on their knees. Their hands were tied behind them. The men acceded glumly, though Raieve did her best to humiliate them as thoroughly as possible. "Your cavalry favors a shorter lance, I see," she said to the unfortunate sentry; even Mauritane chuckled at that before cautioning her against impropriety.

Their search revealed little of note other than a few maps of the Contested Lands; these were probably equal parts cartography and imagination but still better than anything they'd been able to secure in Hawthorne.

Mauritane stood over the lieutenant. "You are in command?" he said.

"I am Lieutenant Ma Denha of the Eagle Regiment," the man answered, eyes forward.

"And I am Mauritane, former Captain of the Seelie Royal Guard."

"I've heard of you," said Ma Denha. "You're a traitor, if I recall correctly."

Mauritane squinted at him. "I've never heard of you, however, so I have no knowledge of the crimes you've been convicted of. But now that we're acquainted, let us speak."

"I am required only to give my name, rank, and posting when captured by the enemy."

"Ah, but we are not enemies, you and I. We are merely travelers who have engaged with you in an unfortunate altercation."

Ma Denha shrugged.

"Ordinarily," said Mauritane, "I would respect your oath of service, and I would not press you further. But I am engaged on a matter that is far out of the ordinary, and I believe that you possess information that may be valuable to me."

Ma Denha's eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing; the Seelie don't torture prisoners. This is common knowledge."

Mauritane moved aside and Raieve stepped forward, running a dagger idly across a whetstone, a tight smile on her face. "You are correct," said Mauritane. "But this woman is not Seelie. In fact, she is not even Fae."

Raieve knelt in front of the lieutenant and touched the dagger to his face. "Mauritane speaks the truth. I'm not Fae. I'm from Avalon. The Heavy Sky Clan."

The man kneeling next to Ma Denha stiffened and swallowed hard.

"You've heard of us?" said Raieve.

"I was stationed near the Heavy Sky territory during the Avalon campaign," the man muttered.

Ma Denha's head snapped toward him. "Be silent, Ensign Miter!"

Miret shook his head. "The Avalona do not consider torture dishonorable, Lieutenant."

"Not against foreigners, no," said Raieve.

Lieutenant Ma Denha sneered at Mauritane. "Your honor allows this?"

Mauritane rocked back on his heels, lighting his pipe. "My honor was stripped from me long ago, as you mentioned. All that remains to me is my duty. Talk and we'll release you. No one but yourselves need ever know. Refuse to talk and I let the woman practice her knife skills."

Ma Denha was silent for what seemed to Raieve a long while, looking into the fire. "Do what you will," he finally said.

Raieve hesitated; Ma Denha was calling her bluff. Despite the rumors the Avalona happily spread among the Unseelie, the clans all abhorred torture. She felt dirty even pretending. If anyone other than Mauritane had asked her to perform this charade, she would have clouted them. She knew for sure then that her feelings were clouding her judgment; she would have to be more careful.

Just as she was about to lower the dagger, Mires spoke out. "I'll speak!" he nearly shouted.

"Mires!" snarled Ma Denha.

"I can't die!" cried Mires. "I can't be tortured. Please!"

Ma Denha struck Miter's face with his shoulder. "Coward! This is treason!"

Mauritane took Mires by the elbow and led him a few feet away from the others, motioning Silverdun to join him. Raieve watched them from the corner of her eye.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know," he said, his voice slurred with fear.

Mauritane puffed on his pipe. "What is your assignment here?"

"We're on a scouting mission. Looking for a safe route through the Contested Lands into Seelie territory."

Mauritane scowled. "To what end?"

"I don't know," he said. "We were told only to seek the route."

"How wide?" Mauritane asked.

"What?"

"How wide of a route?"

Mires closed his eyes. "Wide enough for two columns."

Mauritane and Silverdun shared a quick glance.

"When is the first incursion planned?"

Mires looked at Mauritane, eyes wide. "I don't know! They wouldn't tell me something like that."

"He's telling the truth," said Silverdun.

"I know," said Mauritane. "I possess Insight as well."

Silverdun snorted. "Is there any Gift you don't have, Mauritane?"

"Describe the lands west of here," Mauritane said to Miret. "What perils are we apt to encounter?"

Miret shook his head. "I don't know that either," he said. We came straight south from the water station at Ce Valon, just on the other side of the mountains. We haven't been west."

"What did you see on the western slopes of the mountains, then?"

"Nothing much. A few bugganes. Some shifting places. Nothing we couldn't avoid."

Silverdun shrugged. "Better than nothing, I suppose."

They asked Miter a few more questions, but it soon became apparent that they'd gleaned from him everything of value. Mauritane dragged him back to the fire, where his fellows refused to even look at him. Raieve felt a sudden pity for Miter that cut through her disgust at his shame. She had done this to him; she had stripped him of his honor.

"What happens now?" said Ma Denha.

Mauritane tamped the tobacco in his pipe. "We'll return your uniforms, leave you enough rations to return to friendly territory. But we'll keep your weapons and your horses. And your boots."