Let them ask. What did they know of her kind, and how they had suffered? They couldn't possibly understand what afflicted Lifarsa. Nor did they have to. The Eandi needed Mettai magic if they had any hope of defeating the Fal'Borna in this war of theirs. Fayonne and her people needed the land they hoped to take from the white-hairs. Nothing else mattered.
After fording the river, she and the other Mettai made camp a short distance away from the Eandi, as they always did. They remained close enough that if the marshal needed to speak with Fayonne, he or his officers could find her with relative ease. But the Eandi soldiers seemed happiest when the Mettai kept their distance, and Fayonne felt the same way.
They were close enough that they couldn't escape the aroma of roasting meat from the Eandi camp. Clearly the Eandi had no trouble killing game here on the plain.
Mander had accompanied her, as was proper, since as her son he would lead the village some day. She had sent him and his friends to hunt, hoping that perhaps the luck of the Eandi would rub off on them. He returned sometime later, looking glum and resentful.
"Nothing?" she asked as he approached.
He shook his head. "The warriors killed deer, fowl, even a few boar."
"And you?"
He laughed mirthlessly. "Rabbits. Nearly a dozen of them."
Fayonne shrugged. Rabbits were better than nothing. A dozen would be enough to give the fifty Mettai who had marched with them a taste of meat, and to put something other than boiled roots and stale bread in their bellies.
"I thought it would be better once we were away from Lifarsa," Mander said, staring at the small fire she had lit with magic.
"It may get better. Be patient."
A frown creased his brow. He was so much like his father. Not only his looks-the dark eyes and long black hair, his long, sharp features and lanky build-but also his refusal to cling to false hope. Even as a child, Mander had preferred a hard truth to an easy lie. Just like his father. Tawno would have been proud of the man his boy had become.
"It's not going to be any better, Mama. We both know that."
"No," Fayonne said, "we don't. We have leagues to go before we settle again. Distance may be our ally in this. And who knows what a century and a half of white-hair magic has done to this land. Anything is possible. It's good that you're sensible, but you must allow for some hope."
He nodded, still grim-faced.
"The others need to believe its possible, Mander," the eldest said, dropping her voice and looking around to see that no one was listening. "Don't take that away from them. Not so soon."
"I won't," he said. "And I won't give up. Not yet."
"Good. With all our people have been through-"
Before Fayonne could say more, Mander touched her arm lightly and pointed toward the Eandi camp, a warning in his eyes.
She saw the man a moment later. Her eyes weren't as keen as they once had been.
The Eandi walking toward them had been with the marshal and his daughter the day the army first reached Lifarsa. At the time Marshal Onjaef had given the man's name, but Fayonne had forgotten it. She did remember, however, that he was lord heir of Qalsyn and the son of the marshal's lord governor. She also recalled that of the three who had dined with them in Lifarsa that night, this man had seemed least willing to forge this alliance. He had asked Fayonne why she and her people were so eager to leave the village, and he had appeared unsatisfied by her vague answer.
Fayonne stood as the man approached. An instant later Mander rose as well.
"Good evening, Eldest," the Eandi said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"Not at all, my lord."
A thin smile crossed the man's features for just a moment.
"Please call me captain or Enly."
"Very well. What can I do for you, Captain?"
"May I sit?"
"Of course."
Fayonne and Mander lowered themselves to the ground once more. The captain sat opposite them, on the far side of the fire.
The man cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you might be willing to tell me a bit more about your village."
Fayonne felt that Mander was watching her, but she kept her eyes locked on those of the Eandi.
"There's little to tell," she said. "I've been eldest of Lifarsa for nearly two fours now. Before that, it was a man named Gay. He was a farmer, like me, though he also had a smithy. Before him-"
"Forgive me," the captain said. "I'm not…" He stopped, frowning. "I won't claim to know many Mettai. But those I've encountered have always been tied to the land around the lakes. They consider it their ancestral home. The other Mettai we spoke to refused to help us, and had no interest in leaving. But you…"
"You told us much the same thing the night you ate as our guests in Lifarsa."
"I remember," the man said. "And you said that not all Mettai are the same."
"If you ask me again tonight, I'll tell you the same thing." She raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm wrong?"
"I think that most Mettai are the same when it comes to their feelings about their land and about involving themselves in a new Blood War."
"Do you want our help, Captain?" Fayonne asked. "Clearly the marshal and his daughter do, but do you?"
He exhaled. "I don't know. I…" He stopped himself, looked away. "I don't know," he repeated.
Fayonne opened her hands. "Then I don't know what to tell you. You want me to be just like the other Mettai you've met, few though they may be. But you're nothing like Marshal Onjaef, or his daughter, or the other Eandi captains you ride with. They want to use our magic against the Fal'Borna. They trust that we'll honor our side of the agreement we reached with you. And they're right to trust us. We will shed our blood for you. We'll draw upon our magic and do everything in our power to fight the white-hairs. What more do you need to know?"
The captain stared at her across the fire.
"I suppose you're right," he said. "That's all that matters. Tirnya and the marshal have been telling me the same thing for days." He climbed to his feet. "Forgive me. Good night." He nodded once to Mander and walked back toward the Eandi camp.
For a long time Fayonne and her son said nothing. The eldest watched the man recede into the darkness and when she couldn't see him anymore, she lowered her gaze to the fire. Eandi men sang in the distance, a song she didn't know. She heard laughter from the warriors nearest to the Mettai camp. Her people were quiet, though she could hear the murmur of a few conversations.
"He won't be content with those answers forever," Mander said so quietly that his words barely reached her.
Fayonne shook her head. "He doesn't have to be. We'll march, we'll fight, and then this will be over. Hopefully we'll live and the Eandi will win and we'll have new land to settle. But whatever happens, he only has to leave us alone for a short while."
"But-"
"Listen to me," she said, turning to face him. He looked so young in the firelight, just like Tawno when she first fell in love with him. "The Eandi don't understand us. They know nothing about our magic or our ways. It would take them several turns to figure out any of this. It will all be over well before then. Just keep this to yourself, and don't let on to the others that you're worried."
He hesitated, but only briefly. "Yes," he said, nodding. "All right."
Fayonne smiled. "Good. You'll make a good leader someday."
Tirnya wasn't certain why she had volunteered to do this. Upon setting up camp on the west bank of the wash, her father had announced his intention to invite Hendrid Crish and Gries Ballidyne to sup with him and his captains. He instructed Stri and his men to find game for their meal, and he dispatched a messenger to the camp of the Waterstone army to convey his invitation to Marshal Crish.
He was about to send a second man to speak with Gries, but Tirnya stopped him.
"I'll speak with him, Father," she said.
Her father cast a look her way. She began to blush under his gaze, but with the light failing, she didn't think he noticed.