Jenrosa recalled the flight from the High Sooq of the clans opposed to Korigan, then she put in her mind the picture of Lynan’s army forming and marching out. She saw Gudon smile with what she thought was relief.
“This is remarkable,” Lasthear said.
“Prado!” Jenrosa shouted.
“What?”
“Gudon brings news of Prado.”
“He is casting to you?”
“No. I can see it in his mind. He is exhausted. He has been riding hard for several days. Prado was in Daavis when Gudon left there, and Gudon believes he is not far behind. He says Prado is coming to the Oceans of Grass, and he says Haxus is invading Hume.”
In her mind, Jenrosa told Gudon that they knew of the invasion, but not of Prado. Then she told him that Rendle was also moving into the Oceans of Grass. Gudon replied, but she could not hear him properly. There was a pain somewhere in the middle of her head, and the vision started to fade. She tried to hold it, but the pain increased so suddenly she shouted in agony. The flame disappeared, leaving nothing but a wisp of dark greasy smoke that drifted into the sky and dispersed.
Jenrosa slumped over her horse. Lasthear reached out to hold her steady. “I have never seen anything like this,” Last-hear told her. “You have a power that has not been seen among the Chetts since the last Truespeaker died.”
Jenrosa barely heard the words. The pain in her head subsided quickly after the vision went, but she was more tired than she had ever felt before in her life. If Lasthear had not steadied her, she would have fallen out of the saddle.
Ager quickly organized the Ocean clan with Morfast’s help. Their traditional territory was north of the White Wolf clan and southeast of Terin’s South Wind clan, a situation which explained their ambivalent loyalty to Korigan’s father—for centuries they had been the fly between two hard rocks, and everything they did was determined by the attitude of the chiefs of their neighboring clans. But now the ambivalence was gone; the Ocean clan was loyal to Prince Lynan, the White Wolf himself. Too many of the clan’s warriors wanted to join the Chett army, and Ager had to persuade them that some had to stay behind to protect the herd in the uncertain and dangerous months ahead. He allotted a thousand warriors to stay with the clan and placed them under the command of someone Morfast had told him was well respected and wise, a man called Dogal, and the rest— another thousand—joined Lynan’s army. They took pride in the fact that the crookback was their chief; he was after all a close friend and confidant of Lynan, and had proved himself the most formidable of warriors despite his deformities.
The army moved out first, nearly twenty thousand strong. It was arranged in banners of a thousand, each banner comprising ten troops, and each troop comprising one hundred riders from a single clan. Some of the larger clans, such as the White Wolf, contributed several troops, and they were distributed among several banners so that no clan would dominate. The banners were usually commanded by clan chiefs, including Ager, but one banner was commanded by Kumul and was made up of those riders he had started training as lancers, and another banner was made up entirely of the Red Hands—who proudly carried the short sword as well as the saber—and was commanded by Makon in Gudon’s absence.
As Ager watched the army leave the High Sooq, he could not help the pride swelling within him. It was greater than the pride he had felt as a young captain serving under Lynan’s father, the General, because he had played a part in its creation. He also felt a greater loyalty to this army. Even before he had become a chief among the Chetts, he had started thinking he had found his true home, that his wanderings had at last come to an end. After the Slaver War he had been attracted to the sea because it promised him a life without borders, and the Oceans of Grass promised something similar. Here, even a crookback could find respect and a kind of inner peace.
Lynan rode near the vanguard, his Red Hands surrounding him. They carried pennants, and Ager was surprised to see they were not the pennant of the White Wolf, but a new design. It was a plain gold circle on a blood-red background. Ager smiled to himself. Clever, he thought. The Key of Union is our flag. And all those who fight against us, fight against that. He wondered who had thought up that idea, knowing it would never have been Kumul. Korigan, of course. She is cleverer and more dangerous than a wounded great bear. I’m glad she’s on our side. Ager shook his head. At least, I hope she’s truly on our side.
Morfast jiggled his elbow, and he turned to see the clans now moving away from the High Sooq, his own among them. He swallowed hard, only now realizing what it meant to have the loyalty of so many. The responsibility both terrified him and filled him with a wild joy.
My people, he thought. He did not know if he would survive the next few months, but if he did, nothing would stop him returning.
As if she had been reading his mind, Morfast said, “They will wait for you. You are destined to die among them, not apart from them.”
Ager grunted. He glanced at her with his one eye. “Are you a prophet, Morfast?”
She grinned and shook her head. “No. But you have to admit it sounded good.”
Ager grinned back. “You’ll never know how good,” he said.
The Chett army had not gone far by the end of the first day, partly because it started off disentangling itself from the herds and wagons around the High Sooq, but mostly because it was the first time so many Chett warriors had been gathered together into a single force—nearly twice the size of the largest army Korigan’s father had brought together during the Chett civil war. Kumul had done his best to sort out an order of march, and as the day progressed, they had actually started to ride with some kind of unity. That night, Kumul made sure they camped according to their position in tomorrow’s order of march, and only arrived at the commanders’ meeting well after it had started.
It was a large meeting, including all the chiefs and their seconds-in-command, as well as Lynan and Jenrosa. They were gathered around a large fire. This night there was little to discuss at first, mainly minor problems relating to the hurt pride of chiefs whose banners had been relegated to the rear half of the army. Lynan assured them that the banners would be rotated from necessity, since no banner could be expected to always hold the responsibility that came with being the vanguard or rearguard.
When the chiefs had stopped asking questions, Lynan asked if there were any other matters. Jenrosa stood up and said nervously: “Jes Prado will soon be on the Oceans of Grass,” then sat down again.
All eyes settled on her, and she wished she was an ant and could crawl under the nearest rock. Several people started talking at the same time.
“Quiet,” Lynan commanded, and everyone shut up. “Jenrosa, how do you know this?”
“She helped me cast,” said a new voice, and Lasthear stepped forward. The magicker shook her head and half-smiled. “The truth is, she took over the casting.”
“What do you mean?” Korigan demanded. She had not been keen on Jenrosa being trained by a magicker who was not from the White Wolf clan, but Ager had been persuasive and it was another way of tying the Ocean clan to her cause, so in the end she had agreed to it.
“I mean, my queen,” Lasthear said respectfully, “that Jenrosa—without my assistance—actually communicated with another Chett, one who was at the Strangers’ Sooq.”
“So far!” Korigan said in surprise. “None among us has been able to do that since—”
“Since the Truespeaker died,” Lasthear finished for her. “And indeed, the one Jenrosa communicated with was the Truespeaker’s son.”
Korigan jumped to her feet. “Gudon!”