She was lost in thought about the other time she'd been camped in this place, when the quiet of the night was suddenly shattered by the unearthly howling of wolves.
A chill swept through her as the eerie sounds rose and fell—so many of them that it seemed the entire camp was surrounded. She drew her cloak around her and reached for the tent flap—then stopped.
What if those howls weren't real wolves, but the Kassid? The chill deepened to freezing terror. Despite all that Daken had told her, she still feared she would find those creatures from her old storybooks out there.
I love him and he loves me, she told herself as she reached again for the flap. He would never frighten me this way.
She stepped outside to find the men gathered about the campfire as before, paying no attention at all to the continuing howls. Their nonchalance in the face of the unearthly din was nearly enough to make her doubt her own ears.
As she stood there uncertainly, Daken got up and started toward her. Never had the sight of him been more welcome, and it calmed her enough to make her think about the very great difference between this time and the other time she had been here.
"How can you just ignore them?” she asked, raising her voice slightly to be heard above the howls.
"There’s no danger. They’re simply letting us know that they're aware of our presence. It will stop soon. Come sit with us if you like."
The men nearest the fire cleared a space for her, and several of those she knew repeated Daken’s soothing words. But her heart still beat faster with each new wave of the rhythmic howling, until she would have sworn it was keeping time with them.
“Do they know what is happening?” she asked, thinking about that unique bond between the Kas- sid and the wolves.
"They may," he acknowledged. "Certainly they have never seen this many of us traveling together. They’re intelligent creatures, so they may well suspect that something’s afoot."
And then it stopped—not gradually, but all at once, as though some sort of signal had been given. The silence made her nearly as nervous as the howling had.
"Would they warn you if the camps were going to be attacked?” she asked.
"Yes. There have been many times over the years when they have warned hunting parties of the approach of bears or wild dogs.”
“But this wasn’t a warning?”
He shook his head. "They have a language of sorts, and this was simply a greeting."
They both went back to the tent shortly thereafter. Jocelyn was tired after the day’s journey, and her nerves were still raw from the encounter with the wolves—but none of that could prevent her from wanting him. Their time was growing short.
Their lovemaking had both a fierceness and a special tenderness to it these days, and this night was no exception. She held his big, hard body to her tightly, not even letting go as she finally fell asleep.
* * *
Jocelyn found herself swiveling her head about regularly, checking all around them—but for what? The land was empty. They were out of the Dark Mountains and into the much lower foothills where no trace of snow lingered, save for a few very sheltered spots. It was Daken who finally explained her uneasiness.
"It’s the open land,” he said with a sympathetic smile. "We are all feeling vulnerable.”
He was right, of course. She could see the men around them doing the same thing. Her mind spun back to the first time she’d seen those mountains that were now behind them. How dark and forbidding they’d seemed then—and now she felt vulnerable without their protection. How would she feel when they reached the broad plains of Ertria? And what about Daken and the men? They'd never been in flat land before. Even the horses must find it strange, although they moved with their usual surefootedness over the ridges and through the valleys.
Now that they were no longer restricted to narrow trails, the Kassid army had spread itself widely across the land and looked even more forbidding— huge waves of black-clad men swarming over the sides of the hills. She wondered if the Menoans would have spies hiding in the thick woods, and what they must think. When she asked Daken about it, he nodded.
"I hope they do. The sooner they know we are coming, the better.”
“Will we reach the garrison today?” she asked eagerly, wanting to hear news of home.
"We should be there by nightfall," Daken replied. "We will need to spend a few days there, I think. We must buy some provisions from the Baleks, unless the garrison can provide for us."
"The garrison is always well-stocked," she told him. “The commander told me that they always keep on hand enough provisions to last them a year.”
Then she turned in the saddle to look back at the army behind her. "But you brought so much with you." She’d been astonished at the number of pack horses accompanying them.
"The men are used to eating well,” he replied with a smile, "and I'd prefer not to have to ration food just yet."
But Jocelyn was still staring back at the huge army. "Daken, we must have some of the men from the garrison accompany us to the city. The people will be terrified when they see your men."
"They probably will be anyway. But I plan to ask the commander to send as many men as he can spare. He can replace them with Baleks. They would certainly fight hard to defend their home, if it should come to that."
"I doubt the commander would agree to that," she said, recalling the time some years ago when the Baleks had requested to man the garrison themselves. Hammad and her father had been in agreement that the garrison must remain in Ertrian hands, even though the Baleks had been peaceful for many years.
“The commander will agree if he is ordered to do
so by his empress/' Daken stated pointedly. "Those men could be put to much better use defending Ertria. If war comes here, it will be much later.”
Jocelyn said nothing. She was becoming aware for the first time of the possibility of clashes between her and Daken. And what about Hammad and Daken? She now realized that she’d been foolish to think that this alliance could be managed so easily. The man and the woman might love each other, but the empress and the leader of the Kassid were likely to have their differences.
"Empires are not lasting things, Jocelyn," he said in a quiet voice. "Inevitably, the strains of keeping together different peoples causes discord."
"But the Ertrians and the Baleks have lived together peaceably for generations," she protested angrily. “I have Balek advisors and there are always Balek nobles at court, where they're accepted fully."
“Those at your court have an interest in maintaining things as they are. They’ve probably become more Ertrian than Balek.”
"Are you suggesting that I should give up the empire?" she challenged him.
“I am merely thinking ahead a bit—to a time when you could perhaps loosen its bonds a bit. There will be Baleks and Islanders fighting in this war, and they could be rewarded by being given more control over their lives."
Jocelyn retreated into an icy silence. She was thinking about the way the Kassid lived and the implications that could have for her own people. Was he really saying that the Kassid would demand a “reward" for their service—the dissolution of the empire?
And they'd be within their rights to make such demands, she thought nervously. The empire could not win without them.
The only comfort she had was the certainty that Daken loved her and was unlikely to force her to take any action she found unpleasant. But as she recalled that time he’d harangued her before his council, the doubts crept in.
They rode on for the rest of the day mostly in silence. Jocelyn was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she paid no attention to the group of men who now rode beside Daken, conversing with him in their own language. If she hadn’t been lost in thought, she would have realized it was the first time he'd permitted that in her presence.
It was late afternoon, nearing twilight, when they crested a hill and saw the garrison for the first time, perched atop its hill some distance
away.
“Jocelyn," Daken said, breaking his long silence, “If I tell you to turn around and ride to the rear, do it immediately and without question. Do you understand?”
She stared at him, stunned by the peremptory tone of his voice. He’d never spoken to her in such a way before, and coming as it did after his suggestion that she should dissolve the empire, it sent chills through her.
"Have you noticed that we've encountered no Baleks?" he asked in a more normal tone. “We should have come upon some hunting parties—especially at this time of year.”
"But ... what are you saying?”
"I think it is possible that an unpleasant surprise could be awaiting us at the garrison.”
"You think the Menoans could have taken it?” she gasped. "But you said that their force was decimated.”
"Perhaps they’ve had reinforcements. And they may be planning to have us ride right into a trap. They'd never attempt to attack us out here—but if they can get some of us inside the garrison before we know what’s happening .. ." He shrugged his wide shoulders.
"I would send you to the rear now, but I’m sure they’d be watching us, and that would tip them off that we’re suspicious."
"But if they've captured the garrison, how can you possibly take it from them? You have many more men, but that garrison is impregnable."
"I'm sure that’s what the Menoans think if they’re there,” Daken replied evenly.
Once again, she heard that absolute certainty in his voice, but this time she was not reassured. Even if the Kassid could retake the garrison, it would only be after a long and bloody battle that could be intended to keep their army here while the Menoans and Turveans attacked Ertria.
"They intend to keep you here,” she told him. "That way, they will be able to overrun Ertria.”
"Yes," was his only reply as he turned once more to his men and began to speak rapidly in the Kassid tongue.
Daylight was failing now as the sun fell away behind the Dark Mountains. The Kassid army ad-
vanced at a measured pace toward the garrison, crossing the valley and climbing over a low hill, then descending once again into the narrow valley below the garrison.
“Daken, look!" Jocelyn pointed excitedly to the watchtowers at the corners of the garrison. Men in the dark green winter uniforms of the Ertrian army were patroling along the wall and could be seen in the towers themselves. She could almost make out the Ertrian crest emblazoned on their tunics.
"They’re Menoans in Ertrian uniforms," Daken replied succinctly.
Then, even as he spoke, the great wooden doors of the garrison were opened and she could see more men in uniform just inside, awaiting them in formation.
"How can you be sure?” she asked in a whisper, even though they were still a considerable distance away from the doors.
"I trust my instincts—and those of my men.”
His certainty convinced her, even though she wanted very much to believe he was wrong. She drew her cloak more tightly about her to conceal her tremors.
He put out a hand to touch hers briefly. "You’ll be safe. Just do as I say. They won't attack now. They want to get as many of us inside as possible— and they’ll also want to get you out of the way. I'm sure Arrat has made it clear that you are not to be harmed."
That scarcely reassured her, and she doubted that Daken had intended it to. They both knew what
Arrat wanted from her—that which she had already refused him.
When he saw that his troops had filled the small valley, with the rearmost spread about the crest of the hill behind them, Daken signaled a halt.
For many minutes, the only sounds were the restless shuffling of the horses and the creaking of saddle leather. Jocelyn attempted to match Daken’s calm, although she felt as though her heart had lept into her throat.
Finally, three men rode out of the garrison, and Jocelyn could see that the one in the middle wore the uniform of the garrison commander. It wasn’t the commander she had met, but she knew that Hammad had intended to recall him to the city.
She let her hopes rise. Daken could be wrong, for all his instincts. Surely these were Ertrians! Perhaps they had been momentarily disconcerted by the sight of the Kassid army. And the commander’s lapse of protocol could be laid to the newness of his command.
The trio rode directly toward them. Daken sat motionless, awaiting them. She tensed, hope vying with fear. And then the men came to a halt, some twenty feet away. The commander drew his sword and she tensed, though she sensed no movement on Daken’s part. But he simply raised it and crossed it over his chest in a salute to her.
"Welcome, milady! We have prepared a suite for you."
His Ertrian was excellent, and if she hadn’t already been suspicious, she might well have missed the traces of a Menoan accent. After all, the only
Ertrian she’d heard for months now had been spoken with a heavy accent.
She nodded, not quite certain what to say, and glanced at Daken. But he was ignoring her as he addressed the man.
“She will remain outside with me. A wife’s place is with her husband—empress or not."
Jocelyn had to exert considerable control over herself to prevent her shock from showing itself to the man. She’d never heard Daken speak like that, but she realized that it was the kind of voice she had expected to hear the day she collapsed at his feet.
The commander was clearly befuddled, and she rushed in to fill the silence. "This is Daken, Commander. He is the leader of the Kassid—and my husband. I thank you for your kindness, but I prefer to remain with him, and he wishes to remain with his men."
The man stared at her, then looked at the vast army arrayed about him. If his accent hadn’t already given him away, the brief look of fear she now saw would surely have done so. Finally, he nodded curtly.
"As milady wishes."
"We will make camp here tonight,” Daken stated. "And then we leave in the morning for Ertria. What news is there of the Western Road? If the Menoans still control it, we will take it back.”
Once again, the commander's mask slipped briefly. “They have gone. The road is clear."
Daken nodded. "A wise move on their part, though it only prolongs the moment of their dying."
Once again, the man darted a glance beyond them. Jocelyn thought he looked positively pale beneath his plumed helmet. He gave her one last salute, then actually backed his horse a few paces before wheeling about and riding hastily back to the garrison. As soon as he was out of earshot, Daken began to chuckle quietly.
“A messenger will undoubtedly be leaving the garrison tonight to carry the news to Arrat. I think we will permit that."
“What will happen now?" she asked with a nervous glance at the retreating men.
"We will capture the garrison and then go on to Ertria. When I suggested that the garrison should be left under the control of the Baleks, I hadn’t anticipated this—but now it will have to be that way. It’s unlikely that any of your men are left alive.”
“But how can you possibly capture the garrison? Won’t you be playing right into their hands by staying here to fight them?"
Daken turned from her briefly to tell several of his men to begin setting up camp. Then he turned back to her.
"We will surprise them. There is a tunnel beneath the garrison, with an opening on the far side of that hill." He gestured briefly. “It's actually a natural cavern such as frequently occur in this area. The Menoans won't know about it.”
‘I've never heard of such a tunnel. How do you know about it?” And she was reminded of all the things he seemed to know.
“It’s very ancient," he said, not really answering her question. “Like the garrison itself."
Then, perhaps to forestall any further questions on her part, he told her that he intended to have their tent set up in a prominent spot, but when it was dark enough, she would be taken to the rear of the lines for the night.
"I don’t really expect them to try anything, but
I want you out of the way, nevertheless. I'm afraid you’ll have to make do with a sheppa."
“Sheppa” was their name for the sleeping sacks. But Jocelyn wondered how he could possibly think that she would sleep.
As darkness settled over the land, she sat at one of the campfires and tried to eat the food brought to her by a youth—one of many brought along to tend the horses and prepare the meals and run various errands.
She felt useless, even though Daken had warmly praised her behavior toward the fake commander. And she was also back to those gnawing doubts about him. How did he know so much? Who were his spies? They must be Baleks—and now he wanted her to hand over the garrison to them. What more would he want of her?
The empress has doubts, she thought sadly—but the woman loves him. Did that dichotomy exist in him as well?
The camp settled down for the night. Jocelyn went to her tent, but was there for only a short time when Jakka, Daken’s aide, appeared with a group of a dozen youths.
“They will lead you to safety, Jocelyn,” he told her, then turned to the boys. "You know your orders. Under no circumstances do you join in any fighting. If anything goes wrong, you take her and return to the mountains."
The boys all nodded solemnly, but she could see that they longed to be part of the battle.
Then several other men joined Jakka, leading horses. They all mounted quickly and rode off into the night. Jocelyn frowned.
"Where are they going?” she asked the boy who was put in charge.
"To see the Baleks in town. They will have to take over the garrison now.”
As they led her through the sleeping bodies, Jocelyn turned to look back at the garrison. Things were already spinning out of her control. The Menoans had captured the garrison—and now the Kassid would take it back and give it to the Baleks.
She had a sudden, powerful longing to be back at the fortress. She was shocked to realize that it was the fortress she thought of, and not the palace. The palace was where she belonged, where she could regain that control she felt slipping away.
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