Ranier had already taken off. Galena suppressed the urge to argue and raced after him. It would do no good. Spenglar was right. Soldiers who didn't pay attention got killed. All the veterans told her that. She knew it herself just from living in a garrison city. Oh, but Ranier had such a bitter, sharp tongue. Her brother Aris had said the same thing, right before he left Osterling.

Wing and file marched in through the next market square (now deserted), down a flight of shallow steps, and into the wide empty s.p.a.ce before the harbor towers. Soldiers were already forming into lines. Galena spotted her father, the senior officer for the morning sentry watch, conferring with Commander Adler of the city garrison and Commander Zinsar from the king's fort. Two riders stood nearby, next to their horses.

If it were pirates, those riders would be gone. Her heart beat faster as she ran through all the possible reasons why they remained, and why Commander Adler was glaring at Commander Zinsar.

"... no evidence of attack..."

"... twenty ships sighted last week..."

"... duty is to defend the city..."

Adler's face went stiff. She snapped out a string of curses that made even Galena's father wince. Zinsar drew his lips back in a predatory smile. Then he said something too soft for Galena to hear, but Adler and Lucas Alighero both went still and blank. The next moment Adler was screaming for the archers to mount the walls. Lucas Alighero spoke a word to the two couriers. Within a moment they had mounted their horses and were galloping through the open lane toward the eastern and western gates-taking word to Leniz, Kostanzien, Ostia, and Klee, and from there to all points north and west along the coast.

Two entire wings were marching out the northern gates to the highway. Marelda and a squad of archers mounted ladders. They spread out along the arcs and catwalks over the harbor entrance, to the towers guarding each side, and further to the perimeter walls that encircled the city. That wasn't all. A team of large draft horses followed their handlers into place. They were going to close the harbor gates, Galena realized with a thrill of excitement. It was serious. Not like two years ago, when pirates skimmed past the outer shoals, laughing at the soldiers on watch. No, this was more like the real pirate invasions of fifty years ago. Today, for the first time, she would be a part of those famous legends.

More jabbering between Adler and Zinsar. Then Adler made a rude gesture with both hands. Zinsar grinned again, but in triumph. So he'd won the argument.

Confirmation followed. Orders rippled from the wing commanders to the patrol captains, down to the file leaders and then the soldiers themselves.

"Formation, face left and north," Falco barked.

His two file leaders repeated the orders as they swung around. Galena stamped in time with her file mates. She thought she heard Ranier mutter an insult but she ignored him. Ready, yes, and forward march, companions. Left and right and left. The pattern drummed into her bones since she was twelve and could copy her brother Aris, newly admitted into the wing under Captain Spenglar. As the horses swung into their harnesses, and the ma.s.sive iron harbor gates groaned along the tracks, Galena marched out the southwest gates and onto the highway.

Dark blue-black smudges blurred the entire southern quadrant. Closer to sh.o.r.e, rain fell in sheets, illuminated by bursts of lightning. And then Galena saw them-three ships flying straight toward land, their sails filled to bursting. Her skin p.r.i.c.kled, as though touched by the storm's electricity.

"Where are we going?" she murmured to Lanzo. "Where are they going?"

"Western sands."

She wanted to ask if he meant the ships or their wing, but Spenglar was barking and snapping like a wild dog. The winds blew harder. She had to shield her eyes from the whirling sand. Now they were off the hard-packed dirt and gravel highway and onto the flat lands between the lower hills and the sea. Two patrols split off and took up positions along the highway. Falco and the other two patrol leaders shouted for theirs to keep going, d.a.m.n it, or the Karovin would be landing in the middle.

Karovin. But that was impossible.

Galena stopped in surprise, her gaze yanked outward to sea. The storm had leapt closer to sh.o.r.e, driving the ships before it. Then she hurried to catch up with her file. But she had not missed that hideous rending noise she knew too well. It took a master navigator to clear the shoals off Osterling's sh.o.r.es, and these ships ...

Like a bubble burst, the storm vanished. The clouds faded into gray wisps, and the towering waves rolled outward until their force died away. Beneath the roar of the surf, Galena heard three strange tones, like midnight bells.

"March, you idiots!" Falco shouted. "Faster, keep time, turn about. Halt!"

From months and years of practice, the two files in his patrol swung about as one.

"Weapons ready!"

Galena and her companions drew their swords.

"Watch and wait!"

The clouds had vanished. The sun's rays now beat against Galena's back and shoulders. Only a damp wind, rising from the south, and the clear scent of pine, reminded her of the storm. From her position in the file, she could not see much except the sky and the thin line of ocean horizon.

"Pirates?" she whispered to Lanzo.

He shook his head. "You heard them. Karovin."

She'd heard but not believed. "All that fuss for three ships."

He grinned, as though he saw beyond her indifference. "It's not just the three ships. Last week, the king's patrol sighted twenty ships with Karovin flags off the northern coast. They were sailing east. If they followed the current 'round, these could be the point of that entire fleet."

Twenty ships. Galena's mouth went dry at the thought.

"What happened to the others?" she asked.

"We don't know. I'm worried they decided to double back and take us by surprise-"

"Hush," whispered Tallo, their file leader.

Muttering died away at once. This was no drill, Galena thought as she examined her blade's edge. Her sword was sharp. Her other hand rested on her dagger hilt. She was as ready as she knew. But would they fight? And why? Oh, sure, she'd heard rumors about tensions along the border between Veraene and Karovi, and her father had muttered about how Armand of Angersee wanted any excuse to launch a war. But Armand hadn't declared war, and neither had Leos of Karovi done anything to provoke one.

She strained onto her toes to see more. All three ships were closer now. She could see dozens of figures hurrying over the decks. The glint of sunlight on metal. The masts broken and trailing in the water, dragging the ship to one side. There, they'd cut the mast free. The ship righted itself momentarily. She could see some of their faces. Definitely Karovin.

Several boats launched from the nearest ship. Soldiers and sailors dived from the railing into the water.

"What do we do after they land?" Lanzo whispered to Tallo.

"Wait for orders," Tallo said. "What else?"

Two of the leading boats skimmed over the waves to sh.o.r.e. The Karovin tumbled out and dragged their craft up the sands. As Galena watched, five more shot from behind the other two ships, which tilted heavily to one side. By now, fifty or sixty Karovin had landed. Soldiers, all of them armed and clad in heavy armor. One of them was a tall man. He carried in his arms a young woman clad in layers upon layers of soaking wet robes, which dragged in the receding waves.

The man deposited the woman on the sh.o.r.e above the water line. She struggled, then jerked around to vomit onto the sands. The man placed a hand on her forehead. The air around them shimmered.

Next to Galena, Lanzo uttered a soft exclamation. Magic.

Her skin p.r.i.c.kled with remembrance of that unnatural storm, the scent that could not possibly be land-borne, riding the sea wind. She watched intently as the Karovin soldiers gathered on the flat sands. Over a hundred had reached sh.o.r.e. More were landing from the second and third ships. They matched the Veraenen soldier for soldier. And, she noticed, they all wore armor, as though they expected a battle. Or as though they'd come from one.

The man she'd noticed before spoke briefly with his companions. Then he addressed the Veraenen, first in Karovin, next in Veraenen. Galena could not quite make out his words, but they sounded soft and conciliatory. A dissatisfied murmur rose behind the officer. He barked out a command. His soldiers subsided, but she could tell they were unhappy. She wished her file and patrol stood closer, but Falco had mentioned something about not provoking the enemy.

But if they were the enemy, why bother about provoking them? Why not attack?

Commander Zinsar stepped into the clearing between the two parties. Galena had never liked his manner, and she disliked it now. He smirked and smiled and spoke in oily tones. The privates all called him the king's worm. Galena's mother, living outside the barracks and working as a scribe, spoke of the man in blunter terms.

The Karovin officer shook his head at something Zinsar said. He made his own reply. Galena could tell by his gestures, and how quickly he spoke, that the Karovin officer wanted something. No, demanded something. Zinsar shrugged. Next came a swift negotiation. She wished she knew what it was about. Her skin itched from sweat and the chafing of her leather guards.

The Karovin soldiers looked no happier than she felt. All of them were sodden from the storm and seas and dragging their boats to sh.o.r.e. Worse. Their eyes were hollow pits in dark lined faces. Many were bruised or bandaged. Underneath the weariness, she sensed a bright tension.

"They look like pirates," Ranier murmured to Lanzo.

"More like pirates who lost their treasure," Lanzo murmured back.

"... five hundred gold denier..."

The Karovin's voice carried across the sands. Galena choked back an exclamation. Was that a bribe?

"A thousand," Zinsar said. "Provisions extra."

"For the hire of a single ship?"

"We don't run a service for marooned foreigners," Zinsar said. "Pay us, or send word to your king to supply your needs."

Ugly murmurs broke out among the Karovin soldiers. The officer gestured sharply toward another woman, who rapped out orders in their own language. Galena stirred uneasily. She glanced up toward the fort, wondering if they would send reinforcements down the side roads. Or had they decided to set up their defenses in the fort and the city be d.a.m.ned?

Falco eased back along the files, speaking softly to each soldier. "Did you bring your flask?" he said to Galena when he reached her. "Good. Drink all your water."

"Do you think we'll fight?"

He glared at her. "Don't sound so happy about it. Fighting isn't-"

He broke off and spun around. The Karovin had crowded forward, their voices raised in angry protests. That officer shouted back, but their voices drowned his out. Galena was about to ask Lanzo if he understood their language, when sunlight glinted off a swiftly drawn sword among the Karovin.

"'Ware!" cried out a soldier from the front.

A feathered shaft hissed through the air-an arrow shot from the city walls.

"No, you fools!" Zinsar shouted.

Too late. A patrol leader from the wing opposite waved his arm. Soldiers surged forward from both sides. Back in the rear of her file, Galena could see nothing as she marched forward, but she heard the thundering crash as the front patrols met up with the leading Karovin. "Move, move, move," she chanted under her breath, trying to see her way clear to the enemy.

And then, almost before she realized it, the first Karovin broke through. Automatically she swung up her sword to parry and strike. It was just like the drill and nothing like it at all. She deflected a sword that grazed her forearm, brought the flat of her blade against another's helmet, barely escaped a dagger thrust. Her head rang from the noise, and sand dust choked her throat. There was no time for terror, and yet she could feel it pulsing, just beneath her consciousness.

She killed her first opponent with a stab into his belly. Blood spilled onto the ground, bright and red in the sunlight. For a moment, her vision wavered. Then she gasped, pulled her blade free.

Just in time. Another Karovin stepped over the dead man and swung his sword around in a short deadly arc. Galena beat away his first attack, but though she made a thrust or two, he was much faster and stronger, and she could not break through his defense. For every time she pressed forward, he drove her back twice as far. Soon they were beyond the ma.s.s of fighting. Behind her lay the narrow spur of the highway leading west and north.

The Karovin swung at her neck. She leaped back and crouched, waiting for his next attack.

He hefted his sword and approached. "Let me pa.s.s," he said in Veraenen.

"No." She swallowed back the bile in her throat. Surely the fort would send reinforcements, but they had to battle through the enemy before anyone could reach her.

The man lunged toward her. Galena brought up her sword barely in time. Their blades met in a jarring crash. With a wrenching twist, the Karovin bent her wrist to the side. Galena jumped away before he could thrust against her undefended body. She turned his attack-just-but the next one nearly gutted her. He was faster than any of her drill partners. Stronger. He would kill her- Again he swung his blade under her defense. Again she twisted hers around in time. Before she could jump away, he hooked his hilt with hers and pressed forward until her sword touched her own throat.

She had all the time to memorize that face-the swift sharp angles of cheek and jaw, the black eyes with the faintest cast of blue, a full mouth drawn tight in what might pa.s.s for anger, but what she knew was a soldier's grim expression in the face of war. This close, too, she caught the rich scent on his clothes. It was the same green scent the wind had carried in from the storm. Magic.

"You should have let me past," he said.

"Why?" she whispered. "You would have killed me anyway."

His expression went blank, as if her words had struck a wound. With a grimace, he thrust her to one side. Galena fell hard against a rock. Stunned, she lay breathless and motionless, waiting for him to run her through with his sword.

The blow never came. With a gasp, she rolled over to see the man's shadow as he rounded the highway leading north.

Galena staggered upright. Follow him. Stop him from getting away.

Her feet refused to move.

He's too good a fighter. I don't want to die.

A scream yanked her attention back to the fighting. She twisted around in time to see Piero falling to the sand. Lanzo rushed to Piero's defense. Another Karovin intercepted him; a second one stood over Piero with his knife raised. Galena s.n.a.t.c.hed up her sword and sprinted toward the battle. Her indecision had vanished: she felt reckless, invincible, as if she could live forever or die that same instant. Either would be perfect.

CHAPTER FIVE.

LATER, MANY HOURS after she watched the soldiers march from the garrison, Ilse bent over her desk, hard at work on her quarterly report for Mistress Andeliess. She wrote steadily, rows and rows of numbers, in the neat hand she had learned as a merchant's child. Light from the dying sunset streamed through her open windows, casting long sharp shadows across her desk.

A woman's voice sounded loudly in the corridor outside. Another woman answered-one of the courtesans. It was a busy evening in the pleasure house. From the rooms beside and below hers, she heard murmurs, faint laughter, and the more intimate sounds of lovemaking. Usually she could shut these out-they reminded her too strongly of Raul's pleasure house in Tiralien-but not today.

Ilse laid down her pen and rubbed her eyes. I'm tired. That's all.

Tired and distracted by the day's extraordinary events. In between her duties as steward, she had gathered details-the three Karovin ships, the storm which drove them onto the rocks, the outbreak of violence and the b.l.o.o.d.y skirmish that followed. Rumors flowed through the corridors and bedrooms, delivered from visitors to courtesans in private, then dispersed throughout in murmured exchanges. Even better, Falco had visited the common room that afternoon. Ilse had stationed herself close by his chair, and overheard his comments about the fighting. The captains and commanders were still dissecting what happened, he said.

Ilse thought she knew. Last summer, she and Raul Kosenmark had received word from their Karovin spies about strange maneuvers on land and in ships. Today's events had to be connected. Would the regional governor see that? Would he send word to Raul?

A year ago, she would have said yes with a.s.surance. Now, she wasn't quite as certain. Lord Nicol Joannis had once been a member of Raul's shadow court. He had served as a conduit for information from Fortezzien and the southeast. Well before she left Tiralien, however, Joannis had withdrawn from their regular correspondence. A matter of precaution, Raul had said in pa.s.sing, though whether the caution came from Raul or Joannis, she had never learned. Nevertheless, Raul had trusted Joannis enough to suggest that Ilse come here for her temporary exile.

In case Markus Khandarr did not believe our fiction.

In case of other eventualities she and Raul could not foresee.

Their plan had been a good one, a sensible one. But those dispa.s.sionate discussions last autumn seemed far removed from today, and this crisis. She had not dared to approach Lord Joannis since her arrival. Why should she? She was nothing more than a commoner, a discarded lover who now earned her wages as a steward.

Useless, useless second thoughts.

Ilse wrote the last sum, blotted the page, and set the sheet aside. She was still sifting through the details she'd learned when she heard a scratching at her door. Ilse paused, almost certain she'd imagined the soft noise, when there came a tentative knock. One of the courtesans with gossip? A runner from Mistress Andeliess?

But it was Galena Alighero who stood outside, a tall pale ghost. "A few minutes," she said quickly. "That's all I want."

Ilse hesitated.

"Please," Galena said. "It's not about- Please."

Even in the corridor's half-light, her distress was obvious. Reluctantly, Ilse stood aside and motioned for Galena to enter. Instead of taking a seat, however, Galena circled the small room. Her gaze flickered over the walls and bookshelves as though tracking an invisible enemy.

"What's wrong?" Ilse said.

"Nothing."