by Sharon Shinn
“We brought down as many enemies here as we would have in a day’s pitched battle,” Torrin said with a shrug.
“And Halchon Gisseltess is dead,” Justin added. “I’d count it a good day’s work.”
“But more work ahead of us to do,” Tayse said. “Let’s ride out.”
CHAPTER
39
CAMMON knew the exact instant Senneth broke free of Halchon for the second time. He had felt her first brief, thwarted bid for escape, and so at least he knew she was still alive—until suddenly magic shut her down again, and he could not sense her at all. Therefore, he was so elated he was almost giddy when Tayse’s surge of profound relief woke him early that morning. Tayse had seen Senneth, and she was whole.
A few minutes later, Senneth herself burst back into Cammon’s consciousness, blazing with fury. The swift, brutal fight twenty miles away was clearer to him than the one that had unfolded on the nearer battlefield yesterday afternoon, since he experienced it from Senneth’s point of view, as well as Tayse’s and Justin’s.
He turned to Amalie, who was just sitting up in bed, willing herself to face another day of bloodshed. “Halchon Gisseltess is dead,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “And Senneth?”
“Alive and safe, if a little bruised.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. “I have to go tell my uncle Romar!”
Indeed, the news flew around the camp within the hour, and more than one individual sought Cammon out for confirmation.
“Halchon Gisseltess is dead?” Kiernan Brassenthwaite demanded. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“What of my sister?”
Cammon thought it was interesting that Kiernan had asked first after the marlord. “Weary but unharmed.”
“This changes the very essence of the war,” he said, and disappeared.
Indeed, it was a day when their fortunes seemed to shift altogether. By noon, the forces from Nocklyn and Rappengrass had arrived and flung their fresh bodies into the mix. The rebel armies were actually pushed backward for the first time since battle had been joined. Cammon could feel Romar Brendyn’s fierce triumph—indeed, every soldier in the camp exuded a sense of rising optimism. They were all awash with hope.
It was harder to hold on to that hope when the day was spent among the wounded and dying soldiers. With Ellynor gone, healers were in short supply, and Amalie had gone straight to the hospital tents after she had told her uncle the good news. Despite the fact that she had only the most rudimentary powers of healing, her presence had a powerful effect on the hurt soldiers. Cammon could feel them struggling to mend themselves even faster just so they could risk their lives for her again.
“If no more soldiers would fall, I do believe we might be able to save those who have been hurt so far,” Kirra said around noon that day, as she and Amalie and Cammon took a break to eat. “But, gods! This is hard work.”
They were sitting outside a tent on three rather uncomfortable stools. Cammon glanced up to watch the progress of a hawk circling overhead and angling downward. “Donnal has news,” he said.
Kirra gave him a glance of irritation. “It’s annoying that you can tell it’s Donnal even before I can.”
More practically, Amalie said, “Good news or bad?”
Donnal landed a few feet away and shifted into his human shape so quickly they could not follow the changes. “Good, I think.”
“Then this day continues to be the best one we’ve had so far,” Amalie replied.
Donnal came closer, bowed to Amalie, and grinned at them all. “The regent asked me to go to Tilt and check on the progress of the Arberharst reinforcements,” he said. “He wanted to know how close they were and if I could get a more accurate count.”
“And?” Kirra demanded.
Donnal shook his head. “And they’re gone.”
“Gone!” the three of them cried in unison. Kirra added, “What do you mean, gone? Back on their ships? Eaten by wild animals? What?”
“Intercepted by Danalustrous forces and harried back toward the sea.”
They all exclaimed at that, Kirra most vociferously demanding the rest of the story. Donnal dropped to the ground beside her and told his tale.
“I heard the sounds of battle before I was close enough to see anything. Eventually it was visible from the air—the soldiers of Danalustrous fighting the soldiers of Arberharst. I couldn’t count precise numbers, but it was clear there were far more Danalustrous men. The fight was almost over by the time I got there. Looked like maybe six hundred foreigners broke and ran, heading north to where I’d guess their ships are anchored. Half of the Danalustrous army pursued them.”
“This is wonderful news!” Amalie exclaimed. “But—so unexpected! Didn’t your father say he wouldn’t risk Danalustrous in this war?”
Kirra nodded. “Did you ask anyone for an explanation?” she said to Donnal.
“Not in so many words,” he replied, grinning again. “I did take human shape and introduce myself to the captain as an emissary for the princess. I didn’t recognize him, but he seemed to know my name, for he was very civil.”
“Every Danalustrous man is civil,” Kirra said automatically. “What did he say?”
“That Malcolm Danalustrous considered this invasion by Arberharst troops to be an assault on Danalustrous,” Donnal replied. “I can’t tell property boundaries from the air, but he swore that the Arberharst army had not moved through Tilt land, but instead had marched through unaligned territory between Tilt and Danalustrous. Too close for the marlord’s comfort. So he was justified in—I can’t remember how the captain put it—‘patrolling his borders and discouraging any outsiders from crossing.’ Something like that.”
Kirra practically bounced on her stool. “Well! My father comes through, and most gloriously, I might add! And does us some real good without compromising his principles. Oh, this makes me fonder of him than I have been in a long time!”
Cammon felt Valri approaching and turned to beckon her closer. “Good news,” he called.
She hurried over. “Are they back? Senneth and the others?”
“Even better news,” Amalie said.
Valri’s smile looked strained. “What could be more welcome than the sight of all our friends returned to us unscathed?”
She was worried about someone in the rescue party, Cammon realized. “They’re safe,” he assured her. “Everyone unharmed.”
She was trying not to ask outright. “All of them?” she said. “Even Ellynor? For I know you generally can’t read the emotions of Lirrenfolk.”
“He’d certainly read Justin if something had happened to Ellynor,” Donnal commented.
But, of course, Valri’s concern was for someone else, and Cammon had finally realized who. “Did Lirren men ride with Tayse?” he said. Valri nodded dumbly, and he added, “No one in the rescue party was injured. I would know from the reactions of the others. They are riding back with all speed—in fact, they should be here within the hour.”
“Thank the Great Mother,” Valri whispered and seemed to slump a little.
Amalie jumped to her feet and put her arms around Valri’s waist, murmuring comforting phrases. Cammon could see Kirra’s face alight with interest, though she managed to keep from blurting out any questions. At least right at that moment. As soon as Donnal had disappeared to share his information with Romar, and Amalie and Valri had ducked back into one of the tents, Kirra turned on Cammon.
“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” she demanded. “How is the queen’s romance progressing with the Lirren man? Arrol, is that his name? Handsome enough, but a little too reserved for my taste.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “I would imagine you would be the last sort of woman a Lirren man would be able to tolerate,” he said. “They like their girls meeker, I think.”
“Valri’s hardly meek,” she retorted. “Though I would admit she’s not quite as animated as I can be. B
ut you didn’t answer my question.”
“You know I don’t gossip about things like that.”
She grabbed his throat and pretended she would choke the life out of him. “I will turn you into some kind of repulsive night-crawling creature if you don’t answer me,” she threatened.
“And I’ll send images of Romar Brendyn into your mind every night,” he countered. “I think I can do it, even if I’m a vole.”
She released him. “Oh, now that was cruel! What an awful boy you turned out to be.” She gave him one of her most radiant smiles, clearly designed to dazzle. “Come now, Cammon,” she coaxed. “Just a little information. Nothing too revealing. Does she love him? Does he love her? Is she happy?”
“She’s happy,” he confirmed. “Or she will be when the whole party is back safely.”
“And Halchon Gisseltess is dead,” she said. “So Sabina Gisseltess can be happy, too.”
“I don’t think that’s why Tayse killed him,” Cammon replied. “I don’t even think he did it to help win the war. He did it to protect Senneth.”
“Yes,” she said, “and that’s the best reason yet.”
CAMMON knew the others had returned when he felt them cross into camp. Everyone else knew they were back when fire exploded in the middle of the enemy army. Except for Ellynor, all of them charged straight back into battle—the Riders, the Lirrenfolk, and Senneth. Bent on making up for lost time. Bent on retaliating for the sting of Senneth’s capture.
When the day was over and darkness abruptly descended, they had forced the rebels back another half mile.
The mood that night was one of tempered elation. So much accomplished, so much still to do. They all gathered in Amalie’s tent and discussed how to capitalize on their many bits of good fortune.
“Halchon dead, Rappengrass and Nocklyn soldiers on hand, and Arberharst reinforcements turned back at the border,” Romar enumerated. “The advantage is definitely ours.”
“Our numbers are still no more than even,” Kiernan warned. “And they still possess Arberharst fighters who are immune to our magic.”
Cammon caught the droll look Senneth turned on Kirra. Our magic. As if he would claim it for his own.
“Do you think they have learned yet that Halchon is dead?” Romar asked.
Cammon spoke up. “I believe so. I caught a great sense of dismay emanating from their camp shortly after Senneth and the others arrived.”
“That might break their spirit a great deal,” Tayse commented. “He’s the one who wanted the crown. Why keep fighting if the chief rebel is gone?”
“You’re forgetting Rayson Fortunalt,” Kirra said. She rarely attended these conferences or spoke up when she did, but tonight was a special occasion. Tonight, they all wanted to participate. “He supported Halchon in the bid for the throne, but he’s ambitious, too. Surely he’s saying to himself right now, ‘I would make as good a king as any man from Gisseltess.’”
Romar glanced at Kiernan. “Do you agree?”
Kiernan nodded. “I don’t see Rayson being turned aside by this setback. And some of the Gisseltess men might be energized by Halchon’s death, willing to fight even harder to avenge him.”
“The Arberharst men might lose some of their motivation, however,” Senneth noted. “If he was paying them to fight and he’s gone—” She shrugged.
“My guess is Rayson now controls their joint purse,” Romar replied. “So it won’t matter to them that Halchon Gisseltess is dead.”
“What if Rayson Fortunalt were also to die?” Tayse asked.
There was a moment of silence in the tent. “Could that be accomplished?” Kiernan asked finally. “For I’m not above singling out a man and bringing him down if it means the end to war.”
“He stays well to the back—hard to reach even for a skilled archer,” Romar said. “Our attempts to infiltrate the camp in stealth have been so far unsuccessful.”
“Maybe we could try magic,” Justin said. His eyes were fixed on Kirra. “Send in a lone fighter shaped like a night creature. Change him to a man when he’s past all the sentries.”
“If it’s as easy as all that, why didn’t we kill off Halchon Gisseltess before battle was even joined?” Kiernan demanded.
“Because Halchon is—was—immune to magic,” Senneth replied. “I don’t believe I’m the only mystic who found her power useless around him. He could not have been assassinated in any way that depended on sorcery.”
“And I’m not sure Rayson can be, either!” Kirra exclaimed. “It is true I could change Justin’s shape and follow him to Rasyon’s tent, and then change him to a man with a sword in his hand, but there is still some danger. Each transformation takes time. We might be interrupted by Fortunalt soldiers before I could safely change us both back to creatures that could fly away.”
Donnal spoke up from the rear of the tent. Even more rarely than Kirra had he joined these councils, and Cammon could not remember a time he had ever offered an observation. “I have a simpler plan,” he said.
“Then by all means, tell us,” Romar invited.
“I go. I kill the marlord. I escape.” He shrugged. “I can take any form, including that of a swordsman. And I can change so rapidly that even if soldiers burst into the tent while I battle with the marlord, I will be able to elude them. I am the best choice to send on such a mission.”
There was a silence while they all considered his proposal, each of them in their own way testing it for flaws. Kirra didn’t like it, Cammon could tell, and yet part of her was suffused with pride that he had the skills to accomplish such a bold mission.
“The idea has great merit,” Kiernan said at last. “I can think of no objections.”
“Nor I,” said Romar.
Tayse and Senneth exchanged glances, and she shook her head. “Nor can we,” Tayse said.
Amalie turned to hold her hand out to Donnal. He uncoiled from the floor and came forward to take it. “If you are willing, and if you believe you will survive it, I would ask you to do this thing for us—for me,” she said steadily. “But I would not want you to lose your life in such a chancy venture. There are other things we can try.”
He smiled down at her. “But I think this is a service I can perform,” he said softly. “And I am happy to do so for my country and my queen.”
“When can you go?” Romar asked. “Tomorrow night?”
Donnal dropped Amalie’s hand and spun gracefully to address the regent. He said, “Why not now?”
IN the end, Kirra went with him. They waited till most of the rebel camp was likely to be bedded down for the night, and then met with Tayse to receive last-minute instructions. Cammon left Amalie sleeping in the pavilion and went to see them off. He found Senneth and Justin also awake and seated on the ground before a small fire, listening to Tayse and trying to mask their uneasiness.
“We’ll be fine,” Kirra told Tayse at last. “I won’t even take human shape. We’ll be back in a couple of hours, and no doubt we’ll have a gory tale to tell.”
Donnal had already taken the form of a bat, adept at night travel. More slowly, Kirra transformed herself to a very similar creature, and they both took off without a backward glance. Cammon dropped beside Senneth. Tayse stood awhile, watching the night sky as if he could actually still see their winged shapes, and then he, too, took a seat before the fire.
“You can follow them, of course,” Senneth said quietly.
Cammon nodded. “Of course.”
“Let us know when anything happens,” Tayse said.
The four of them were silent for the next fifteen minutes. Cammon’s attention was focused so tightly on Donnal and Kirra that he could almost feel the lift and caress of wind as they darted through the air. Below them, he could see the dense pattern of sleeping armies, divided by a dark trench of muddy, torn-up ground. Occasional campfires sparkled on both sides of the demarcation line. From the air, in the dark, the world seemed peaceful; every sign of battle was erased.
Finally Senneth stirred. “I wonder how Donnal will bring himself to kill an unarmed man in his sleep,” she said.
“I could do it,” Justin said.
Tayse turned his head to appraise the younger Rider. “No, you couldn’t.”
Justin flashed his careless grin. “Maybe not. But I could wake him up and then kill him before he had time to say a word.”
“They’re at the camp,” Cammon said abruptly. “Hovering above the tent they believe is Rayson’s.”
“How do they know?” Justin asked.
“Fortunalt flags. And there’s—” Cammon tried to convey Kirra’s sense of bewilderment. “Singing? Men outside the tent having some kind of celebration?”
“A wake for Halchon?” Senneth suggested. “Or maybe Rayson’s actually glad that Halchon is dead. He wanted the throne all along.”
“I don’t know,” Cammon said. “But Donnal is pleased. The singing will cover any sounds they make.”
He fell silent for long enough to make Senneth impatient. “Well? What’s happening?” she asked.
“Oh. They landed for a moment to change to smaller creatures. I can’t tell what—moths or something.” Donnal could alter shapes so quickly that he could transform himself in flight, but Kirra’s shifting took too long for such midair maneuvers. “Now they’re aloft again—and seeking a way inside the tent—and in.”
He was silent again, unprepared for the swift backlash of emotions he was picking up from both Kirra and Donnal. Fury, disgust, hatred. He frowned.
“What?” Senneth demanded. “Why do you look like that?”
He shook his head. “They’re—oh. They’re witnessing Rayson—in bed with some girl—a very young girl, from what I can tell….” His voice trailed off. Kirra’s anger was so hot that he thought she might have tried to rip out Rayson’s eyes herself if she had been some kind of predator.
Senneth said something, and Justin replied, but Cammon scarcely heard them. The scene before him was so clear it was as if he was standing in the tent, watching it unfold by candlelight. The girl in Rayson’s bed couldn’t have been much more than fifteen, dark-haired, terrified, shrieking. The heavy red-faced marlord was laboring over her, grunting with pleasure, pinning her arms back against the rough wool of the blankets. The men outside finished one drunken song and began another one.
