Sovereign

And it had come with a greater gift, Eynon reminded himself. The heads of the mercenaries Prado and Rendle, two of his people's greatest enemies.

He put away the Key and looked up. His riders were passing through a wood and its shadows criss-crossed over them like the fingers of giant hands. For all its beauty, this part of the world made Eynon feel trapped. The landscape seemed to settle in against him. Back on the Oceans of Grass everything was open and flat; but here even the sky seemed to close over him.

He studied the face of the rider next to him, saw that it showed no fear or anxiety. Rather it showed a kind of eagerness.

'You have enjoyed your stay with us, Makon?' Eynon asked.

The tall Chett carefully regarded his host. 'I will tell Lynan that you have been the most generous of hosts.'

Eynon was surprised by the answer, and then realised Makon had misunderstood his question. But of course Lynan was uppermost in the man's mind. It was something he and his people could not help noticing about Makon, and all the Red Hands he had brought with him to deliver Lynan's gift: they were infatuated with the White Wolf. The eastern prince was already more myth than man, and that more than anything had convinced Eynon he had no choice but to support him in his struggle. After all, who could hold out against myth?

There was a shout up ahead from one of his van, and a moment later a rider was galloping towards them. She passed Eynon, wheeled and came along beside him. 'Chetts. Many of them. Red Hands.'

'How far?' Eynon asked.

'About an hour from here.'

'And Lynan?'

'He leads them,' she said, and looked as if she was about to say something else, but she nervously eyed Makon and obviously decided to say no more.

'Tell the van to continue,' Eynon said. 'We will join you presently.'

The rider rushed away.

'I would like go on ahead to greet Lynan,' Makon said.

Eynon's first impulse was to ask Makon to stay with him—he wanted to make his own impression on Lynan without the prince being coloured by any report his emissary might make—but letting Makon go was a demonstration of his own confidence and authority.

'Give Prince Lynan my regards.'

Makon grinned his thanks, spurred his horse to the gallop and was soon gone from sight.

The two forces met at noon where the road left the woods and wound its way through a grassy field. Both leaders ordered their respective forces to hang back and rode to meet each other in the centre. When Eynon was close enough to get his first proper look at Lynan he could not help grunting in surprise at the changes he saw. Where before the prince had seemed uncomfortable in his pale skin, like a calf dressed in a wolf's hide, clearly he had since grown into it. Lynan was small and wiry and white as snow, and his gaze—as cold as winter—never wavered from Eynon's face. They stopped a few paces from each other, and made no move to take the other's arms in greeting; they had no need for false camaraderie between them. Each knew what was happening.

'I am glad you came,' Lynan said.

'I believe you,' Eynon replied without irony. Then he noticed the Key of the Sword hanging from the prince's neck. He could not help staring at it.

'Courtesy of Areava,' Lynan said.

Eynon looked up in surprise. 'You have slain the queen?' He could not help sounding as shocked as he felt.

'No. She had given it to her lover. An Amanite called Sendarus.'

'Then you have defeated the Kingdom?'

Lynan shook his head. 'We were beaten.'

Eynon blinked. For a moment he could think of nothing to say, then: 'You are in retreat?'

'No. Both sides were badly mauled. I think the Kingdom's army was hurt the worst, but they held the field. Technically that means they had the victory.'

'A Chett would not consider that a victory,' Eynon said matter-of-factly. 'A blood-soaked field isn't worth the life of one warrior. If they lost more warriors than you, then you won.'

'I lost Kumul,' Lynan said bluntly. 'I did not win.'

'God, lad, I did not expect to be greeted with a celebration, but I was not expecting this feast of bad tidings.'

The way Eynon said 'lad' made Lynan think of Kumul. In a strange way—his speech and the manner in which he held himself—the chief reminded him of his dead guardian. He pushed the thought away. 'It is best you know exactly how I stand before you commit yourself to my cause.'

'You are so sure that is why I have come?'

'You brought the Key of Union,' Lynan said with certainty.

Eynon could not help grinning. 'And how do you stand?'

'My army is mostly intact. The Kingdom's army is not chasing us; they have little cavalry left to speak of, and most of that is made up of knights from the Twenty Houses who are not at all suited to pursuit. There is a third army to the north of us: Salokan's retreating invasion force.'

'You met Kendra's heavy cavalry?'

'And destroyed most of it.' Lynan closed his eyes for a moment. 'That was Kumul's doing.'

'You forgot to mention one thing in your appraisal.' Lynan thought for a moment. 'I do not think so…'

'You defeated the mercenaries under Prado and Rendle.'

'Ah.'

'So as I see it, you have at least one victory to your credit, and possibly a second.' Eynon reached into the pouch around his waist and brought out the Key of Union. 'This is yours, I believe,' he said and handed it to Lynan.

'Thank you,' Lynan said simply, taking it and putting it around his neck. It clinked against the Key of the Sword and for the briefest of moments he felt a surge of power course through his veins. He was so surprised by it that he barely heard the cheering of the Red Hands behind him.

Gudon sat at the back of the circle that surrounded Lynan. He was both amused and a little frustrated by the gathering, but had expected that from the beginning. Closest to Lynan were Korigan and Eynon, old rivals now fighting for the same cause, but old rivals nonetheless. Backed up by their allied clan chiefs, each was arguing for a different strategy for the Chett army.

The discussion was heated, deadlocked and acrimonious. Gudon wondered how different it would have been had Kumul been present, and concluded that his presence would only have raised the temperature even higher. In the time he had known him, Gudon had learned that putting Kumul in a debate was like dropping a lit torch in a dry stable. He winced. Would have been like, he corrected himself.

His gaze wandered from Eynon to Korigan as each repeatedly argued their particular plan, and occasionally to Jenrosa sitting among the other clan magikers. He could tell she was trying to concentrate on what was being said—or shouted—but her mind was elsewhere.

And in between it all squatted Lynan, impassive, making no attempt whatsoever to adjudicate between his fractious followers. He waited until Korigan and Eynon had spent themselves, then stood up. All other conversations stopped. He looked at Korigan.

'As I understand it, you want me to move against the Kingdom's army and finish what we were unable to finish in the battle three days ago.'

Korigan nodded, and he looked at Eynon.

'And you want me to move directly on the provincial capital Daavis, taking it while the Kingdom's only army in this province of Hume is still recovering.'

Eynon nodded. Lynan breathed deeply and then looked directly at Ager, sitting quietly beside Gudon. 'And you, old Crookback, what is your advice?'

Ager blinked in surprise. All eyes rested on him, everyone aware that as one of Lynan's original companions, he had more influence than the average chief.

Ager cleared his throat. 'I say, what does the White Wolf want to do?'

Lynan smiled, and a sigh passed through the meeting. Both Korigan and Eynon looked abashed.

'The White Wolf says we will not attack the Kingdom's army, nor will we attack Daavis.'

'Surely we're not retreating back to the Oceans of Grass!' Eynon declared. Under Lynan's suddenly cool stare, he swallowed and said hurriedly: 'I did not bring my followers all this way to go back again without striking some blow for your Majesty.'