“God’s death!” Kumul cried. “What’s wrong?”
Jenrosa was panting for breath. “It was her. Silona.”
Kumul’s face went pale. “Where? Is she in the camp?”
She shook her head. “No, no. In my dream.” She started shaking and wrapped her own arms around Kumul to try and stop it.
Kumul hugged her tightly. “It’s all right,” he said soothingly. “I’m here. No one can harm you.” After a while, he asked, “Can you tell me about it?”
She haltingly described the dream, still fresh in her memory.
“No wonder you woke up screaming,” Kumul said.
“What if it wasn’t a dream?” she said. “What if I was seeing something in the future?”
“You have no reason to believe that,” Kumul told her, but she heard the doubt in his voice.
She closed her eyes, and the image of Silona was still there, reaching out to her. “Oh, Kumul, I wish that was true,” she said, and started to cry.
Lynan and Korigan were in his tent squatting on the ground and looking over a map that rested between them. The Algonka Pass marked the westernmost edge of the map, the Sea Between the easternmost edge, and in the middle were the provinces of Hume and Chandra.
“If we have correctly interpreted the words Jenrosa and Lasthear read with their magic,” Lynan was saying, “then Salokan will be making directly for his border. His rate of march will be determined by how closely he is being pursued by Areava and her army.”
“The problem is, we don’t know if the magickers are telling us about something that has happened or will happen,” Korigan said.
“That is why we have to cross the pass as soon as possible. If we send scouts a day or two ahead of us, they should find signs of a retreat easily enough, if there is one. Then we will know where to strike next.”
“You are looking for another battle, then?”
Lynan nodded.
“With whom? Areava or Salokan.”
“We both know, I think. Areava’s forces will be spread out—scouts well north, a vanguard, then the main body of infantry. Her cavalry will be out wide on her northwest and northeast flanks to make sure Salokan doesn’t double back. She will not be expecting a threat directly to her western flank. We could decide the whole issue if we defeat her centre, then destroy her detachments in detail.”
“What issue?” Korigan asked.
Lynan’s breath caught in his throat. He had not said it before, but knew in his heart there was only one issue that would guarantee he and his friends could return safely to Kendra. “The issue of who will rule the kingdom,” he said slowly, and with the saying of it was surprised to feel a great weight lift from his shoulders.
“Have you told Kumul of this decision?” she asked.
“No.”
“You will have to, sooner or later.”
“Sooner, I know. Before the battle. He has a right to know what he is fighting for.”
“If it helps, I think he knows already. He just can’t admit it to himself.”
“He has always served the throne of Grenda Lear.”
“By serving you, he still does,” Korigan said.
Lynan looked up, met Korigan’s gaze. “Thank you,” he said.
They both stood, still looking at each other.
“I had better go,” Korigan said.
“Yes.”
They both reached for the flap at the same time and their hands touched. For a moment neither moved, but then Lynan opened the flap and the contact was broken. Korigan left without saying another word.
Kayakun picked up the wine jar and refilled the two goblets, took his own, and drank deeply. “I cannot believe it is the same boy.”
Gudon belched, pounded his stomach with a fist and belched again. “Where did you say this piss came from?”
“I didn’t. It’s from some new vineyards in eastern Hume.”
“It is too warm there for good wine to grow,” Gudon declared.
“That hasn’t stopped you from helping me drink two flagons of the stuff.”
“Two?” Gudon asked, surprised. “Already?”
“We’re ready for our third.”
As if Kayakun’s words were a signal, one of his servants reappeared with a full jug and took away the empty.
“As I was saying, I can’t believe it is the same boy.”
“We’re talking of Lynan now?”
“Of course.”
“I only ask because in the last few hours we’ve discussed the defeat of the mercenaries, the weather, politics in Grenda Lear, the lineage of some merchant who offended you ten years ago, the weather, a new brood mare you purchased in the winter, and the bloody weather. I’ve lost track of where we’re up to.”
“We’re up to Lynan. The boy. The man. Whatever he is.” Kayakun glared at Gudon through half-closed eyes. “Come to that, what is he?”
“The gods only know.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He is the White Wolf returned—” Kayakun waved dismissively at that, “—he is heir to the throne of Grenda Lear, he is a warrior and a general, he is a leader, he is a prophecy in the making.” Gudon put his goblet down and said heavily, “And he is a boy. Nothing more than a boy.”
“You like him, don’t you?”
“I love him. Truth, he is a son and a brother all at once to me. I saved his life. He has saved mine. He makes me proud. He terrifies me.”
“Have you told anyone else this?” Kayakun asked.
“Oh, that’s clever,” Gudon said, wagging his finger. “Ply me with bad wine and then interrogate me. What do you want?”
“I want to know whether or not this Lynan is leading our people to disaster.”
“I think he will save us from disaster.”
“What do you mean?”
“He saved Korigan’s crown at the High Sooq. Maybe even her head. He has united most of the clans under his pennant, and may yet unite all of them. If he wins the throne, our independence will be guaranteed and our isolation ended.”
“He can’t do both. Our isolation is our independence.”
“That’s glib, Kayakun, but not true. Independence comes not from being left alone, but from being equal with all the other peoples that make up the kingdom of Grenda Lear.”
“And if he loses? What attitude will Areava take toward us then, sitting on her throne in far-away Kendra?”
“I’m too drunk to answer that.”
“And tomorrow you’ll be too sober to answer it.”
Gudon giggled. “Oh, now that is clever.”
Kayakun leaned forward until his face was less than a hand’s span from Gudon’s. “I’m serious.”
“Then you haven’t drunk enough of this wine.”
“I’m serious,” Kayakun repeated.
Gudon sighed deeply. “All right, I’ll answer your question. If Lynan loses, Areava will not attack us. But she will make sure that our isolation becomes permanent. We will be imprisoned within the Oceans of Grass.”
“That sounds like a reward, not a punishment.”
Gudon scowled at him. “Kayakun, that is the most stupid thing you have ever said.”
The Chett army stayed at the Strangers’ Sooq for over a week. In that time, most of the grass around the sooq was eaten by all the horses, but since no caravan would be coming this spring, it was no great loss.
Lynan, Korigan, and Gudon spent the days gathering supplies and the wagons necessary to carry them across the Algonka Pass and into the eastern provinces; Lynan wanted to avoid his army living off the land and alienating the very people he wanted as his subjects. Kumul and Ager resumed their training of the army and invented pennants for each banner, pennants that had nothing to do with any existing clan. Jenrosa spent all her time with Lasthear, trying to master her skills, hoping there was a limit to them and that in the end she was nothing more than another magicker; she had no more dreams about Silona, but could not forget the one dream she had had.