The a'laq scowled at this.
"I'm just being honest, A'Laq. Our magic, which can do so much, can't do anything like that."
"What's your point?" E'Menua demanded.
"That all of us were so concerned with dragons and demons, creyvnals and blood wolves, that those were the only spells we considered. Besh mentioned something to me, though-I didn't make much of it at the time, and neither did he. But it could explain what's happened to the other army."
E'Menua looked genuinely alarmed. "Demons and dragons don't explain it?"
"Not really, no. Even they might leave survivors. But Besh spoke of magic that could kill hundreds at a time. A poison spell, he called it. He didn't tell me how it works, and so I wouldn't know how to stop it, except…" He took a breath. "Except to try to kill every Mettai in the Eandi army.”
"We intended to do that anyway," E'Menua said. "You don't know of any defense against this poison spell?"
Grinsa started to say that he didn't, but then stopped himself, recalling his own experience with Mettai magic. That terrible night when he nearly died from Lici's plague, Besh tried several spells on him, and each one fell over him like a cool mist. It seemed that even a spell that didn't lead to the creation of a fox or hornets or a creyvnal had to take some physical form.
"Forelander?"
"Fire magic," Grinsa said.
"What?"
"Mettai conjure with earth and blood, which means that all their spells have some form, some substance. They're not just thought, like ours are. It may be that they can be burned away. That is, if we see them coming."
The a'laq nodded slowly. "Yes. That makes sense." He looked Grinsa in the eye. "Well done." He started away. "Get some sleep, Forelander. We'll be fighting before long."
Grinsa returned to his sleeping roll, but he was wide awake. Again he considered reaching for Cresenne. But she would ask him questions about the war, which inevitably would lead to what had befallen the other army. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her.
He lay down and pulled his blankets up to his chin. Snowflakes fell on his face and melted, running over his cheeks and into his hair like tears. After a few moments of this, he pulled the blanket over his head and eventually fell asleep again.
Morning came quickly, and soon the Fal'Borna were riding again. It seemed that word of the other Fal'Borna army's fate had spread through the ranks of the warriors. Only the day before, the men had joked and sang as they rode. Now they made not a sound. Grinsa saw fear in their faces, but also the same iron resolve he'd seen in E'Menua the previous night.
Q'Daer and L'Norr rode next to Grinsa, but they didn't speak to each other or to him. The young Weavers scanned the horizon continually, as if both were eager to be the first to spot the Eandi army. Snow fell intermittently throughout the day. At times it was so heavy that Grinsa could hardly see. At other times it stopped completely and the sun shone through breaks in the clouds, making the light layer of snow on the plain sparkle brilliantly.
They came to the Thraedes late in the day and followed it northward, past the point where the K'Sand joined its flow. They'd reached the Horn; it was just to the west, across the river. But still the riders saw no sign of the Eandi, and when they stopped for the night, the mood in the camp was somber.
It was a cold night, and though it stopped snowing and the skies cleared, a harsh, frigid wind blew out of the north, making it hard to sleep.
With first light they were up and moving again, and before long they found what they'd been seeking.
Q'Daer was the first to notice, and he rose in his saddle to point, a cry on his lips. Snow still covered the ground, but ahead of them a wide swath of grass had been trampled, leaving it dark compared with the rest of the landscape.
Grinsa and the Fal'Borna riders stopped at the edge of the tracks, and the a'laqs and Weavers dismounted to take a closer look. The tracks must have been made by the Eandi. When Grinsa and the others had reached forth with their magic two nights before, there hadn't been nearly enough Qirsi in the area to disturb the land in this way. Add to this the fact that most of the prints they could make out had been made by humans and not horses, and it seemed clear that a vast Eandi army had passed this way on foot.
But Grinsa was struck by the route they seemed to have taken.
"They came from the north," Q'Daer said, sounding as confused as Grinsa felt. "They followed the river. And then they… they turned to the east."
"That's how it looks to me, too," said O'Tal.
E'Menua stared at the tracks, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "It makes no sense. They defeated our army and made it to the river. Why would they turn away from the Horn?"
"Could it be a trick?" H'Loryn asked.
Q'Daer appeared to weigh this. "Perhaps," he said. "A path this wide, made by so many men. With so much of the snow trampled, it's hard to read. I suppose it's possible that they doubled back." He turned to scan the riverbank. "But I see no sign that they crossed the river, at least not near here."
"Then we'll assume that they've turned east," E'Menua said. "We'll follow these tracks as far as they lead us. They're still fairly fresh, and with so many of them on foot, we should catch them before long."
"What if they're retreating?"
Every one of them turned to look at Grinsa.
"Why would they retreat?" O'Tal asked, looking puzzled. "We know from last night that our army has been destroyed. There's nothing to keep them from crossing into the Horn. They'd have no reason to turn back now."
"We don't know how many men they lost," Grinsa answered. He gestured at the trampled ground. "This could have been done by four thousand men. It also could have been done by half that number or fewer. Maybe they defeated the Fal'Borna army, but lost so many that they decided that they couldn't go on."
"What does it matter?" E'Menua asked irritably.
"If they're retreating, we should let them go," Grinsa said. "Particularly if the Mettai have magic that can destroy an entire Qirsi army."
H'Loryn raised an eyebrow and glanced at the other two a'laqs, a hopeful look on his face.
O'Tal caught Grinsa's eye, and shook his head slightly. But it was too late.
"Let them go?" E'Menua said, his voice rising. "Let them go! They invaded our land! They killed hundreds of our warriors! Who knows how many septs they attacked? And you want to let them go?"
"Forgive me, A'Laq," Grinsa said. He felt weak for apologizing, but he knew that he'd been mistaken to speak of retreat in front of everyone. He would have been better off first approaching E'Menua in private. Or better still, O'Tal. Too late for that now.
For his part, E'Menua didn't seem to hear his apology.
"I thought that you finally understood what it meant to be Fal'Borna!" the a'laq was saying. "I thought you were becoming one of us, at long last."
He spat on the ground at Grinsa's feet. "Clearly I was wrong."
The a'laq turned away without another word, walked back to his horse, and swung himself onto the animal's back.
"We follow them east!" he said fiercely, glaring at all of them.
He wheeled his horse away and spurred the beast to a gallop, leaving the rest no choice but to follow.
"I'm sorry," Grinsa said to no one in particular. "This war has already been costly. I just thought perhaps we should consider letting it end. I meant no offense."
None of the others would so much as look at him, except H'Loryn, who seemed even more disappointed than Grinsa felt, and O'Tal, who shook his head ruefully and said, "You should have known better. You've lived among the Fal'Borna for a few turns now. You should have known what he'd say."
O'Tal didn't seem angry with him, as E'Menua had. But he and H'Loryn followed the others, so that Grinsa was left there alone. He climbed back onto his horse and rode after them, knowing he'd been a fool to say what he had.