"It was a mistake to be caught, but what happened between us was not wrong. We needed each other and found each other at the right time. That is all."
"Shameful!" laughed Luia. "You show no remorse at all for fucking your friend's wife. Does Ullsaard mean so little to you now? Perhaps I would be doing my husband a favour by telling him of your disdain. Betrayal can grow so quickly, you know. First you take one of Ullsaard's wives, next you will be heading back to Askh to gain favour with the king by hanging Ullsaard out to dry."
"I would never do that!"
"A year ago you would never have slept with me," said Meliu, jumping from the bed. Noran dragged his gaze away from her swinging breasts and looked at her distraught face. "Was this some way of getting at Ullsaard? Were you going to use me?"
Noran had to laugh with the shock of it all, a bitter snorting that threatened to engulf him.
"You really are a stupid cow if you believe this bitch."
"I think you had better leave," Meliu said primly. "Urikh will be back shortly."
"It might be best if you leave the city altogether," said Luia. "To avoid the temptation of a second performance. I have to protect my sister's reputation."
Noran looked at the two women, who were now standing side by side. He tried to comprehend what was happening, but found no reasonable explanation. Noran was forced to conclude that the pair of them had either conspired to trap him, or were most certainly insane. Leaving the city sounded like a fine idea.
"I shall pack my things and leave before dusk," Noran assured them. "I will go to Ullsaard and explain to him what has happened. If he chooses to kill me, so be it. It might even be a relief."
Noran hurried from the room, confused and angry. Luia's laughter followed him down the passageway. He stopped on the landing, turned around and strode back into the bedchamber.
"Get out!" he snapped at them. "This is my room!"
Anrair
Spring, 209th Year of Askh
I
A town's mood was like the weather; you could sense when it was changing. Gelthius knew what it was like to live in a place where the harvest had failed, or the local chieftain had died to be replaced by a better or worse man. He could sense the mood of Talladmun in the quiet of the markets; the nervous manner of people in the streets; the houses left empty by families that had fled.
The town knew war was coming soon.
"There he is."
Gelthius looked at his companion, the general's eldest son, Urikh. He was pointing at a third captain standing with a company of legionnaires at the duskward road leading into the market. The officer was tall and thickset, with a flat face and straight-cropped hair poking out from under his helmet. Urikh passed Gelthius a folded piece of parchment sealed with a blob of wax.
Gelthius headed across the market with the message, ambling through the thin crowd looking at the wares on display. It was meagre fare. Only those farms within a couple of days' of the town had brought their winter stores. Everybody farther afield was too scared to travel, though whether it was the renegade legions or the hillmen brigands that frightened them more Gelthius couldn't say.
He stopped at one wagon laden with limp spring cabbages and listened to the farmer asking for far more than they were worth. The woman shopping shook her head and walked away. It was the same all over the town. No ore meant the forges had gone cold. No food meant prices were rising so quickly only the governor and his legion could buy anything, and often they did, taking all of the available food, leaving the people of the town to go hungry.
Crossing the open pavement to where the third captain stood, Gelthius performed his "tripping up" routine. Rather than shouting at him as usually happened, the captain stepped up to help Gelthius to his feet. Surprised, the Salphor almost forgot to slip the message to the captain. He pushed the parchment into the officer's hands with a whisper.
"Read it later, in private."
With that, Gelthius staggered away, leaving the confused Askhan captain looking dumbly at the letter for a few moments before he carefully folded it and pushed it down into his breastplate.
"My brother is an idiot," Urikh muttered when Gelthius rejoined him. "Let us just hope he has not forgotten how to read."
II
Urikh had sent word that Nemtun had definitely left Talladmun with half the legions, chasing a rumour of Ullsaard encamped five days to coldward in the Enairian forests. Governor Allon had gone with him, leaving the cowardly Murian in charge of the army protecting Talladmun and the road to Parmia.
Ullsaard had not had things all his own way, and his forces had been depleted by raiding parties, escorts and diversionary forces, and the thousand men still posing as rebels in Magilnada. In all, he had about three and a half legions at hand, more than enough for the two dispirited legions Urikh claimed were stationed in Talladmun.
It was a bright morning, full of the promise of spring. Twenty thousand legionnaires marched along the road to Talladmun, which could be seen nestled in the foothills a few miles away. Ullsaard's army made no attempt to hide its approach. The general wanted the opposition to have as much time as possible to get scared. If Urikh and the others had done their jobs properly — and he had no reason to doubt they had — the mixture of Murian and Allon's men would be more than nervous about the army bearing down upon them.
A mile from the town, Ullsaard faintly heard the warning horns. He called the army to a halt on a low, long hill overlooking the farmlands outside Talladmun; each phalanx took its position in a line that stretched for half a mile, clear to see for every soldier on the walls. After nearly two seasons spent running away, hiding in the mountains, posing as rabble and beating up innocent merchants, Ullsaard was looking forward to having a proper battle. Part of him hoped that his clever plan would not work and he would have to fight for the town.
He did not have to wait long.
A column of armoured soldiers snaked from the town's closest gate, about five hundred men. They carried with them their golden standard and Ullsaard could see a figure riding an ailur at their head: Governor Murian. Ullsaard signalled to his own bodyguard from the Thirteenth and urged Blackfang down the slope.
The two delegations met half a mile from the town wall, and the contrast between them became clear. Proud and confident, Ullsaard swung down from Blackfang and strode up to his opponents while Murian hunched in his saddle, surrounded by guards. The governor's eyes never strayed from Ullsaard and he fidgeted with a piece of parchment in his hands.
"You got my letter?" Ullsaard called out lightly. Murian held out a hand, the parchment shaking in his fingers. "Good. Do you have any questions?"
"The king will have me skinned and then boned like a fish if I do what you ask," Murian said. "I cannot hand over my soldiers and the town without a fight!"
"The king is not here," said Ullsaard, stopping a little way from Murian, arms crossed. He fixed the governor with his best stare, perfected over years of command and fatherhood. "I am."
"But this is outrageous!" Murian swallowed hard and tried to rally some confidence. "We can hold the town until Nemtun returns with the rest of the army." "No, you can't."
"What makes you so sure? I have enough men to hold the walls, and supplies for more than ten days."
Ullsaard moved his gaze from Murian to the captain just behind him: Jutaar. Ullsaard's son met his eye and nodded.
"Allon's men will not defend the walls," said Ullsaard. "They've had a better offer. That leaves you with just one legion."
"You seem very certain of that." Murian's nervousness was quickly becoming indignation. "I think this is just a ruse to get me to surrender. Do you think I am that easily fooled?"