"We are going to be waiting for a while. What would you normally do?"

"Wait." He said it as though waiting were an activity.

Well, I would normally read a book and I had been reading Tetrin's Study of the Barbarian Peoples, which seemed pertinent, so I dug the book out of my saddlebag, turned to the chapter regarding the Alendi and started reading. There was not much to distinguish them from the Ensibi; about the same in numbers and culture. Their lands edged the foothills to the Urnalin Mountains. Behind them a hundred smaller tribes controlled the valleys and highlands, generally a few villages and one stronghold to their name. The pa.s.ses through the mountains were controlled by somewhat stronger tribes who controlled trade from the north. To the east were the Orduli and to the west the Prashuli. Much of a muchness. The Alendi produced charcoal and smelted iron. That was bad. Meant they had a good supply of weapons and armor, probably. And spare money if they sold their goods to other tribes. And trade relations and maybe treaties with some of the hundreds of small tribes at their back. But they were small tribes, a few villages. Say fifty to a village and ten villages each just for convenience. Populations of five hundred giving ten professional fighting men each tribe. Ten times hundreds wasn't many. Okay. No sweat. Memory told me that the other side of the pa.s.s was wasteland, hundreds of miles of it but set in its center a place called Battling Plain which was hotly contested by the surrounding nomadic, semi-nomadic and settled tribes simply because it was a large and well watered fertile plain where the bulk of what rivers flowed out of the mountains to the south and west joined together and ran on to the sea. The area fell outside the scope of the work I was reading but it sounded from what I recalled that there was nothing there to fret about even if our enemies had allies there. There were wild tales of strange magics and so on but then, aren't there always? Having the only source of magic known to us made us slightly paranoid on the subject. Spirit magic, we knew about and didn't worry over. It was small scale stuff, the spirits of the dead molded by priests to perform single simple tasks when called. Other potential rivals made us uneasy. I put that aside and read on. The Alendi had a single mighty fortress called the Eyrie, large enough to hold the entire tribe and to which they had apparently withdrawn several times in defense against greater tribes that no longer existed. In part that was our doing. No one had had any inclination to take control of these areas, but battles fought in order to plunder material wealth and slaves had been numerous in this area for the last two centuries, chipping away at their numbers. To the east, I knew, there were more numerous tribes that might extend for a thousand miles for all I knew. These other tribes also played a part in keeping down the numbers of the Gerrian tribes by their own raiding activities. There was an extensive section on the Eyrie that I read through even though I wasn't that interested; this was, after all, a punitive expedition and not a war of conquest. March there, meet the enemy, hit them hard, grab some booty and go.

My reading was interrupted by hoofbeats coming steadily closer. I closed the book with one finger marking my place and looked around. My men didn't seem to have moved an inch. From the direction of the city came three horses and three riders. Not what I was expecting. Two of them were women. Definitely not what I was expecting. As they came closer I recognized them as Orelia and Jocasta. The man with them was their brother Urik, all of the family Habrach, a family with a lineage not quite as ancient and august as mine. I had been betrothed to Orelia until her family decided I was a lost cause about five years ago. I put the book away and moved toward them, trailed by my own horse. I didn't see the point in mounting and I didn't want to hurry. I had guessed what was coming and wanted as long as possible to think about what to say in return. If I saw out some military time and returned, I guessed that the betrothal offer was on again. Well, did I want that? d.a.m.ned if I knew but the best time to say forget it was sooner rather than later. The fact is, I like being single. Women consist of willing slaves or widows, neither of which expect any kind of commitment. Of course I could just put her off. After I had served a year we could discuss it. That, I decided, was the way to go.

I hadn't been paying much attention to the expressions on their faces as I thought through my own situation but all of a sudden they were close and no one looked happy. They looked worried, and that just didn't fit with what I'd been thinking. Worried for me? No. No, that didn't fit and would be insulting besides. Orelia wouldn't ride out here to insult me by showing contempt for my military prowess, non-existent though it might be.

As soon as they were close, Orelia pulled rein and slipped easily to the ground. She was definitely worried, not to mention cute and a very good horsewoman.

"Orelia, what is it?"

"Sumto, will you help me?"

"Of course." Ouch. Suckered.

She took a step closer, almost close enough to touch. Her brother stiffened in his saddle and her sister came down off her own horse all in a rush. Overprotective, I thought, but honor can be a p.r.i.c.kly thing amongst city n.o.bles. I watched her expression change moment by moment, nervous, wary, worried.

"Orelia. Just tell me."

"My betrothed is a prisoner of the barbarians," she blurted.

I blinked, something had flashed in my eye but I paid no attention to that. I was busy. I didn't know whether to sigh at the inevitability of it or swear aloud at the injustice. I'd already said I'd do it, whatever it was. Now I just needed to know if I was breaking him free or paying a ransom. I prayed briefly for the latter before I asked.

"His name and status is known to them, and they have asked for something," her expression went deep into fearful and her voice dropped to a whisper. There was a hint of shame in there as well.

"They asked for something? Not money?"

She shook her head. "Not money," her sister said. "The head of the Ensibi King."

That's when I started swearing.

I was still swearing in my head an hour later when Meran got back from the city. I could tell it was him at once; two riders, each leading a string of horses. Meran and the drover, ten horses for us and one for the drover to ride back on. I mounted as soon as I saw them. The wait was nearly over but I was no longer that pleased about it. I had already thought it through and there was no way I could get out of trying to get her betrothed out of there. The ransom was un-payable. To kill and extract the head of an ally was not an option. If Orthand got a hint of it I would have made a powerful enemy. Getting caught doing it just didn't bear thinking about. Orthand was a wealthy man and not one to be trifled with. Worst case scenario, death. Best, exile. Lots of unpleasant options in between. Even if I was lucky enough to get away with the enmity of a powerful man there are a hundred ways he could make life unpleasant for me, and would as a matter of principle even if he didn't take the matter too seriously. Of course, that was a.s.suming the chieftain's protectors didn't get carried away or mistakenly believe they could get away with killing me. None of that looked good.

The army was out of sight and the baggage train was well on the move by the time Meran pulled up and my men took their mounts. I decided Meran had purchased good animals as I cast a jaded eye over them and judged their worth. Four extra sets of saddle and tack and I didn't suppose I could grudge him that. Let him have a horse to ride. Who knew? I might need him to ride messages. Relieved of his string of four horses, Meran took control of the other six and paused. I raised an eyebrow and he tapped his free hand to the saddlebags behind him. I gestured that he should keep the bags and he bowed in the saddle and headed for the baggage train. There was money in the saddlebags and I trusted him with it better than I trusted myself. I drank and gambled. I had actually decided to give both a rest for a year, but why leave myself open to temptation?

So. Paying the ransom was out. That left rescue. The bad part of that was who had him and where. The Alendi had him, of course. And they were keeping him at the Eyrie, their one serious stronghold. And I was on my own in this. No way my six men would follow me there even if I asked them.

I looked back at the four men who were with me and a.s.sessed their riding skills, all were fair enough in the saddle and I didn't have to worry about them falling off.

Before I kicked my mount into a canter I asked one question. "How far to the lands of the Ensibi?"

Pakat considered for a moment. "About five hundred miles."

That would take about twenty-five days or so. Plenty of time to worry about the details.

Anyone who wants to know what it's like to ride five hundred miles can do it themselves. At the end of the first day I was shattered. I'm a good horseman but all day in the saddle was more than I was used to. Everything hurt. I dropped to the ground with a great deal less elegance than I had hoped. My lower body was locked in place and straightening my legs was an agony. I hung on to the saddle horn for a bit, but managed not to groan aloud as I straightened up as much as I could.

It was a good two hours to sunset and the bulk of the army was busy building a fort around us. It was standard practice and good habit to do so, even though we were in friendly territory. Done for the same reason that we had scouts out in front, rear and to the sides of the army. It has only happened twice but the rivalry between patrons can lead to clashes within our own lands. It would be pretty embarra.s.sing to run into an ambush within a hundred miles of the city.

For a while I walked the horse to cool him down and stretch out the rigidity of my own muscles. There was no two ways here. I was going to war and I had to do what needed doing. Primarily get fit enough to survive any fighting I might have to do. I figured twenty-odd days in the saddle would shed a good deal of the fat I was carrying and tighten up most of the muscles that counted. Sometime after these muscles loosened up I would start the morning with calisthenics and upper body exercises. I was looking forward to it, or so I told myself. I pa.s.sed the horse to one of the men as soon as I figured I didn't need to hold onto the bridle in order to walk.

The camp took shape around us. There were seven thousand men doing the work so it didn't take long. A ditch was dug, the earth being thrown inward to form a rampart. Each man carried a stake which was then rammed home to form a short wall. Inside, a broad s.p.a.ce was left clear with designated areas for horses and wagons. Tents were erected in an inner square with another more or less clear s.p.a.ce in the center of that. In a permanent camp there would be a few buildings here, a hospital, command and administration building, and so forth. Accordingly, my charges being the battle mages and healers, it was from this clear s.p.a.ce that I watched things come together. Our slaves and servants appeared and tents were erected in the place where the field hospital would be located in a permanent camp. As soon as my tent was ready I ordered hot water and ducked inside. I had nothing pressing to do that needed doing and the last thing I wanted to do was sit down so I stripped off the borrowed armor and paced back and forth and fretted while I waited. The other commanders would have duties to keep them busy but I was only responsible for sixteen men, my six men forming the bodyguard for the other ten, and all of them seemed able to look after themselves. In a way I felt pretty superfluous, which normally would have made me fairly happy. I could clean up, which I would do as soon as Meran brought the d.a.m.n water, pull on a robe and stretch out in relative comfort to read till I fell asleep. It sounded good, but I couldn't help feeling like there was something I should be doing. There wasn't and I couldn't figure out why this bothered me. Perhaps it was just arrogance. A man of my cla.s.s should be doing something, should be in control. And I wasn't. It was that simple. d.a.m.n. My upbringing had obviously affected me more deeply than I had ever suspected. I had the urge to compete with my peers, to shine, to put them in the shade, to blind them with my brilliance, I wanted to gather the reins of power into my hands, I wanted control, I wanted responsibility. I wanted all the things I had been meticulously avoiding my whole life. Or at least part of me did.

Well, I could take control of what I had control over.

Meran interrupted my introspective self-a.n.a.lysis with blessed hot water and fresh clothes. I washed and dressed and, feeling better for it, stepped back out into the dusk of the evening to take charge of things.

Kerral appeared as if by magic as soon as I barked his name.

"Sir!" He had snapped to attention and saluted in mere moments and I had to resist the urge to throw my arms around him and give him a big hug. It was as if he had been waiting for me to catch up, which I guess he had.

"Report."

I could almost see him resisting the urge to smile. I had done nothing in the way of formalizing relationships with my command, appointed no one, fixed no chain of command. I'd ignored my responsibilities, light though they may be, but that was over now and he knew it. Dammit, I think he was proud of me.

"Our quartermaster has established contact with stores and our supplies of food and other necessities are secured, sir. The men are settled under discipline and prepared for their duties. Weapons and armor have been inspected and the men pa.s.s muster. Horses and spare gear have been checked and all is in order. Your charges are secure and their comforts are being attended to, sir."

"My slave has the war chest. See that it is guarded, Centurion." First Centurion would have been more pretentious than I could take, but he needed to know what I intended. Subconsciously, decisions had been made. We had needed horses and I had sent Meran back to the city to bring a librarian to my home and sell my library to him. The a.s.sessment would have been on the low side, due to time issues, but I needed that money now so now it was. I knew their value and guessed what I would get; enough to buy the horses and leave a good sum over, and that would become my war chest. I was as capable of raising an army as Tulian and to h.e.l.l with taking his orders and there was nothing anyone could do about it. My soldiers would have to be raised on route but there were several towns between here and the end of our lands and I had five good men to act as centurions and doubtless Kerral could find one more. My men. My army. My command. My life. My destiny. And if I was going to keep my word I needed to do this, though I honestly think I would have anyway. Once the lion smells blood it wants to eat.

On the second day of the march I'd woken before dawn and presented myself at the commander's tent to receive the pa.s.sword. I had been given no other instructions. It felt like a waste of time, but there was no avoiding it.

Later that day we entered the Modrasin hills, and this is where my father's agent caught up with me. We were traveling in a loose group, two or three abreast, and it was a moment or two before I noticed the stranger, riding at Meran's side, leading a pack animal. My gaze traveled from Meran to his companion who caught my eye, held my gaze and moved closer. Pakat was between us with steel bared, his mount tossing its head and forcing the other's mount away. Meran made s.p.a.ce and Kerral was on the other side of the man, also with his blade drawn.

"Give your name and business with the commander!"

Pakat had the voice of command and I saw the smaller man pale slightly, his confidence dented. He had obviously asked for me, found my slave and commanded Meran to bring him into my presence. No faulting him for that but my men were having none of it and I chose to let them have their way.

"Give answer, man!" Kerral was just as clearly serious.

The newcomer didn't waste effort on bravado. Though I was pretending not to notice I could clearly see him eye the weapons and the men clinically. This was a man who had seen naked steel before and was not automatically intimidated by it. I re-interpreted his first reaction, he had paled in anger as some men are made flush by it. His sudden stillness had not been fear but preparation. By his hairstyle and dress he was a freedman, a former slave who had earned or bought his freedom. He answered Pakat but was more clearly addressing me. "I have messages and gifts for the commander. My name is Sapphire."

I acknowledge that I had heard this and by gesture let it be known that Sapphire was to be pa.s.sed into my presence. I'd guessed already who had sent him and, from the bundled goods on the pack horse, what he brought. A few moments later he rode by my side and held out a scroll for me. "A letter from your father," he informed me.

I had already guessed as much and decided on my response. I took the letter and tucked it under my thigh. "Travel with my slave, I'll write a reply tonight and you can return with it."

A cloud pa.s.sed briefly over his expression and was gone instantly. He bowed in the saddle and dropped back out of sight. When I was sure he was gone I turned in my saddle and gave a nod of approval to both Kerral and Pakat, then broke the seal and read the letter.

Get this man safely to Gerria. Don't sell my armor. If you do I'll disown you and let your brother-in-law do what he wants. Come back with money. Destroy this.

I set my stone to it, found the tug of the stone in my mind and pushed in the way I had been taught. The paper charred and burst into flame moments later, all of it in one. I let it go and it rose out of my hand before disintegrating into charred particles and drifting as black dust on the breeze. It was a little theatrical but suited my mood. Not a word of greeting or good wishes. Get this man to Gerria. Why? Not a word of explanation. Don't sell the armor. Can't say I hadn't earned that but I was going to war. Why would I? Come back with money. With your shield or on it. Sod you. Destroy this. Why? What was this man Sapphire up to that even the fact I was supposed to get him onto Gerrian soil in one piece had to be secret? Well, I had plenty of time to pump him for information. In any case, I'd certainly have him watched.

It was a few minutes later that it started bothering me that the whole thing wasn't very subtle. Did my father think I was stupid or such a lush that I just wouldn't be interested? Surely the best way to get someone there was just attach him to the baggage train as a drover or some such. Have the son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h enlist. Why have him travel with the army at all? It was a pretty safe road from the city to Gerria. Our lands, the provinces of Lirria and Muria which had been ours for centuries, the client kingdom of Wherrel, then the client Gerrian tribe of the Geduri and you were there. He could have traveled alone much faster, changing horses every ten miles. Pushing hard he could have made it in mere days. The more I worried at it the more weird it seemed and the more determined I became to have the b.a.s.t.a.r.d watched and find out what he was up to.

There is no ill wind, as the saying has it, that blows no good. Personally I kind of doubt that is true but in this case it was, not that I was sure that Sapphire was in fact an ill wind. If Sapphire could ride to Gerria in a few days, then so could anyone. I had been thinking in terms of recruiting along the way but, of course, I could send someone ahead to recruit near the border. It would give my agent time to knock a unit into shape, something that could not be done on route. Not that I wanted new recruits, as I couldn't afford to equip more than a very few men; they would have to be either landowners who had, as law decreed, armor and weapons, or veterans of one war or another who had run out of money and needed another stint. Veterans generally kept their equipment, especially on or near the frontiers where they might be needed at the drop of a hat. It was, I decided, the way forward. Now, who to send?

"You want me to what?"

I'd called Sheo to my tent as soon possible after the army had camped.

"Think it through, Sheo. Who else can I send? I need Kerral with me since I made him first centurion. The other four are good men but I haven't known them long. And, as a bonus you can take the two hundred I owe you."

He frowned at my levity.

"I've never recruited."

"Figure it out. How hard can it be? Get as many as you can get. A cohort would be perfect if you can get so many. Get them in shape and ready by the time we arrive. Take only landowners or veterans. No n.o.bles." I kept overriding him with instructions. "Better for us if they are all veterans. One year or the duration of this campaign only. The usual pay, small advances on signing up, and the usual shares of the booty. You'll have to a.s.sign centurions but make sure they know I'll be changing things. And get a banner made, you know what to put on it."

He stopped trying to protest and started nodding at each point. "I'll prep a roadside fort. Will I have enough money to keep them fed and watered until you arrive?"

"Good question," I raised my voice. "Meran!

My ugly slave was inside the tent in seconds and I gave him a smile. I was feeling generous.

"How much money in the war chest?"

"Twelve thousand four hundred and seventy silver."

I nodded thanks. Plenty. "Get me some maps of Gerria and the surrounding areas."

As soon as he was gone I started doing math out loud. "A silver will feed a man for a week so six hundred times four is two thousand four hundred, say three thousand to allow for delays. Six hundred silver for recruiting fees. Your expenses the same, so another twelve hundred. So four thousand two hundred. Round that up to five thousand for unforeseen problems. Sound okay to you?"

"Alone on the road with five thousand silver?"

He had a point. It could all go horribly wrong. The roadwardens kept the roads free of bandits and thieves. Free trade is the lifeblood of the city. Trade is money and money is power. "Ride fast."

"What's in it for me?"

I grinned. Greed. d.a.m.n but I loved the honest avarice of our cla.s.s, of our people. "Best you be my second in command with an appropriate share of the booty."

He gave a nod of agreement. "See you in three weeks."

"With luck. You'll hear rumor of our coming. Watch the locals, there may be spies. Keep them out of the camp. Careful who you buy food from."

"Sumto, I know as much about warfare as you do."

"Probably more," I agreed cheerfully. That was a lie, or half-truth at best. He had some practical experience, but I did not doubt I had more knowledge. I had read everything on the subject, and thought about it.

"I also know the law as well as you do. You have no imperium."

I shrugged it off. "Technically we are all kings, my friend."

"Don't joke."

Technically we were in an interregnum as someone on the council of patrons would always veto anyone who was proposed to become king. The t.i.tle held no power or prestige and it was to avoid the stigma attached to the t.i.tle that friends or allies vetoed the nomination. It had been going on a goof few years. Without a king the few duties of the t.i.tle devolved, in fact the t.i.tle itself, devolved upon every n.o.bleman of the city. King for a day or a bit of a king every day, and the king could raise an army if he wanted to. Actually a bodyguard but in the numbers I was thinking that would do.

"I am of age and from a patronial family as old as the city. Technically I'm right and you know it. So the council might not agree and might prosecute..."

"Someone will prosecute, you aren't without enemies, Sumto."

"...might prosecute if my letter to my father doesn't bear fruit."

"What letter?"

"I just thought of it and won't write it yet, but I can get him to write me an authority as an emergency measure. He is a proconsul and has a perfect legal right to do so. And even if someone does prosecute it will make a good story, and what's the worst that can happen?"

We moved to the entrance and stepped out into the dusk. Our camp fire was lit and a servant was cooking up the rations that had been pa.s.sed out. Kerral sat on a stool outside the tent he shared with Sheo. The susurration of hundreds of conversations, both near and far, filled the air with an almost familiar current; the odd louder sound, physical or verbal, just a known counterpoint. Of my charges, the healers were louder and more jovial, the battle mages quieter and more secretive. I could hear and not hear them in exactly the proportions I already expected. I felt like I had always been here, like I belonged.

We crossed to Kerral, who stood as I came close, and quietly informed him of what I intended. He nodded his approval, not quite smiling but clearly pleased. I hoped he would still be pleased at the end of the year.

"Exile." It was Kerral who answered the question after having repeated Sheo's warnings.

"So I accept the risk. Any questions?"

At that moment Meran arrived with my maps so there were none. I unrolled them one at a time then and there until I had what I wanted. I gave the map of southern Gerria a cursory glance until I found what I wanted in the territory of the client kingdom of Wherrel. "The town of Yuprit. Don't camp close enough to upset anyone."

I left the map with him and went back into my tent, taking Meran with me.

"I need you to steal something."

"It's what I live for."

"If you get caught you won't live."

"Oh good. I'm so lucky to have such a considerate master, some of you city n.o.bles are right b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

"If you want to say no say no."

"What is it?"

"A white rod."

He closed his eyes and deliberately didn't let out the explosive breath that he just managed to catch behind his pressed lips. Then he let it out. Slowly. "There are only two close. Either one will be missed."

"I need one."

"Make one."

"What?"