Looking around the room, the governor of Magilnada saw that the comatose man was being given every comfort. Noran lay beneath thick blankets, on embroidered pillows, spring flowers arranged in vases around the room. There was even a blue songbird in a silver cage hanging in the corner, though it was quiet for the moment.
"He seems to be well looked after," said Anglhan.
Meliu smiled up at the governor.
"The physicians see him daily. Ullsaard sent more money to ensure we could afford it. I think the spring air will do him the world of good."
Allenya sighed and moved listlessly.
"And how are you?" asked Anglhan, turning his attention to Ullsaard's oldest wife. "I know it must be a heartache for you to be here, but your husband left you in my protection and if there's anything I can do, let me know."
"Can you spirit Ullsaard here?" she said. Anglhan shook his head sadly. "Not that he would want that. I have never worried so much. He has always been away for long times, on campaigns, fighting battles. I always believed he would come back to me."
"I am sure he will be back," said Meliu, reaching out a hand to her sister. "He always is."
"I am not so sure, not this time," said Allenya. "He sent me a letter with the men that brought Noran. It reads like the words of a man not sure if he will write any more."
"This is his first, last and best chance for victory," said Anglhan. "If he fails, the legions and the governors — the other governors — will lose confidence in him. I've not known Ullsaard long, and know him far less than you, but he doesn't strike me as the gambling sort. If he's ready to go, you can be sure it's because the time is right. The next letter you receive from him will be signed King Ullsaard, you'll see."
Allenya looked unconvinced and she returned to gazing out of the window, fingers picking at a loose thread on her skirt.
Anglhan took a deep breath, wondering if the moment was right for the announcement he had to make. He looked at Allenya and Meliu, both distracted.
"Where's Luia?" he asked. "I have something to say that she should hear as well."
"Making trouble somewhere, probably," said Meliu. "She's being more of bitch than normal, ever since Ullsaard shipped Urikh off to Maasra. I know how she is feeling; it has been so long since I have seen Ullnaar. I know he is safe, but he is growing into a young man and I have not been there to help him."
"It'll be finished soon enough, and your family can be together again," said Anglhan.
His hands fiddled with the letter from Ullsaard, which he had brought as proof of Ullsaard's wishes. With all this talk of families, it didn't seem right to reveal the letter's content. It was something Ullsaard could better deal with in person.
"What is that you have?" asked Meliu. "Is it something to do with what you want to talk to us about?"
Anglhan crumpled the letter into his jerkin pocket.
"It doesn't matter, it'll wait," he said.
He stood there feeling uncomfortable for a short while, but it was too much to bear.
"Thank you for your time, ladies, I hope to see you all at the lord's hall soon," he said, edging towards the door. "With any luck, Noran will be able to come as well."
"That would be nice," said Meliu, standing up. Allenya glanced in Anglhan's direction and nothing more.
"Right, I'll be off."
Anglhan hurried out of the house, feeling like a coward, though he tried to assure himself he was simply being sensitive to circumstance. Ullsaard's letter had included a request that as governor Anglhan legally annul the general's marriage to Meliu, and that of Noran and Anriit. Though it was obvious that Meliu felt something for Noran, Anglhan was not convinced she would be happy to learn that the man about to become king wanted to divorce her.
No, thought Anglhan, I'm not getting involved in that one. He can settle it himself.
II
Furlthia was waiting outside the house. Anglhan's bodyguard of legionnaires closed in on the former landship mate as he crossed the street, but Anglhan called them off.
"Sorry about that," Anglhan said as Furlthia fell into step beside him, pitching his voice so that the soldiers could hear him. "Put a uniform on them and they turn into idiots."
"You're the one that gave them uniforms," Furlthia reminded him quietly. Anglhan replied with a non-committal grunt. "Anyway, I've got some news for you," Furlthia continued.
"Am I going to like it?" asked Anglhan, heaving himself up the step of a carriage.
Furlthia walked around the other side and pulled himself through the curtains.
"No," he said. "Aegenuis is calling a council of chieftains. He wants the tribes to unite and take back Magilnada."
Anglhan slouched back into the thick cushions and shrugged.
"What he wants and what he gets are different things. Aegenuis could probably count on the tribes that were moved out of the Free Country, they'd want to get their lands back. What does anyone else care?"
"He knows what's going on in Askhor, and the turmoil your friend Ullsaard is causing. He's going to tell the tribes that after Magilnada they're going to move into Anrair."
"That's war with Askh," laughed Anglhan. "Nobody's that stupid, not even the chieftains."
"You haven't been duskwards for years, you haven't got any idea what it's like out there," said Furlthia, leaning towards Anglhan in agitation. "It's getting crowded and all the best timber, ore and grain is coming this way because the Askhans can pay more for it. People are starving, Anglhan, even with plentiful harvests! You don't understand how much hatred there is for the Askhans. Aegenuis has been frightened of poking the beast that's left him alone so far. By taking Magilnada, your general has shown Aegenuis that he can't expect the peace to last much longer. Either the tribes attack now, or suffer later."
Furlthia had been right; Anglhan did not like the sound of this. Not one bit.
"How long?" Anglhan asked, dreading the answer.
Now it was Furlthia's turn to shrug.
"By the end of the summer, surely," he said.
"Ullsaard will be king by the time spring is over," said Anglhan, speaking with confidence, though he was far from certain. "He'll not let Magilnada fall."
"And if Ullsaard fails? What happens then?"
Anglhan didn't answer. I'll be stuck between Lutaar and Aegenuis, he thought. Neither of them wants me here. He put on a brave smile and looked at Furlthia.
"Ullsaard won't fail."
Nalanor
Spring, 210th Year of Askh
I
There was so much shouting; the bellows of the officers, the cries of the men around him, the roars of the enemy. Gelthius never realised battle would be this noisy. He winced as his company crashed into one of Nemtun's phalanxes. As a new hand, he was in the back ranks. All he had to do was shove the man in front and keep his spear from hitting any of his own men. The veterans at the front and along the right side of the phalanx would be doing all the hard work.
It was a far cry from the fights he had been in, stealing cattle from the neighbouring tribes in Salphoria. In those scraps it was every man for himself, and Gelthius fancied himself as quite a handy swordsman in his prime. Age might have slowed him a bit, but on the first charge he had realised why they had spent so many miserable days marching back and forth across the drill squares, raising and lowering their arms, setting their shields and walking in step shoulder to shoulder.
Askhan fighting wasn't about skill, not for the greater part. It was about strength and stamina; grinding down the opposition until they could fight no more. This was the fourth melee he'd been involved in since the battle had begun a little before noon. Sweat soaked his tunic and his kilt chafed against his thighs. Fortunately his hands had been worn hard over years at the cranks, but some of the others around him had wrapped linen bandages around their palms because of tears and blisters. Similarly his back was strong, but his legs ached, despite the lean muscle brought on by miles of marching.