“Against what?” Gerald asked cautiously.
“Against that I’m now the Earl of Westwall, or Gavin is, and the Duke of Thrake, too. I own the whole northern trade from one end of the wall to the other, and if we win this war, we’ll make money as if we are transmuting water into gold.” He turned to his brother. “I’m sorry, brother. I’m not as crass as I sound, but…”
Gavin grunted. “I get it,” he said. “They’re dead, and we need money.”
Random eyed Tom Lachlan. “Yes,” he said.
The captain spat in his hand and clasped hands with Tom.
“Where do you want them?” Tom asked.
“I want them marched back north-fifty head at every stopping point in a six-day march, and I want the rest grazing in the fields south and west of Albinkirk in one week.”
“Tar’s tits,” Tom croaked. “That’s a mort of driving.”
“You’re the Drover,” Gabriel said. “Then keep going north and get your levies out of the Hills and join Ser John at Dorling. Take whatever beasts you need to feed the Emperor and four thousand men there.”
“And hold Dorling?” Tom asked.
The captain shook his head. They were perfectly silent.
“No. I’m sorry, Tom, but unless the Wyrm wants to fight for it, we’re sacrificing Dorling.”
“Why am I going there, then?” Lachlan asked.
“Because the levies will only rise for you or Ranald or Donald Dhu. And because I can trust you to follow orders-words, by the way, that no one else has ever said about you, Tom.” He smiled across the fire, and Tom grinned back.
“Only if I like ’em, boyo.”
“Raise your levies and hold the Inn until the Emperor comes. And then retreat to Albinkirk, making the road behind you a wilderness.” Gabriel leaned forward.
Tom crossed his arms. “With my Hillmen and the Emperor, I can defeat fucking Thorn.”
“No, Tom, you can’t. Not without me and Amicia and all the angels in heaven, too.” Gabriel shook his head vehemently. “Unless the Wyrm’s willing to go in person. And I shouldn’t even say that out loud. But if he is-then fight.”
Bad Tom scratched under his nose. “Retreating is not my best way,” he said.
“Tom, if you pull this off and get the Emperor and Ser John Crayford alive to Albinkirk, I promise you the greatest battle ever.” Gabriel nodded. “One toss, one fight, for everything.”
Tom raised a hand the size of most men’s heads. “Six days with my herd to Albinkirk. Two days hard riding to the Inn if no one stops us.” He frowned. “Eight days, at least. Where will you be?”
Gabriel scratched his bites. “Sukey, I need you to start north with the camp and the baggage tomorrow. Leave enough tents standing here for the Royal Guard and the company packed tight, and take the rest on the road. We’ll catch you at Sixth Bridge.”
Sukey nodded. “I can do that,” she said. “How soon can I start them up and packing?”
“Give them another hour,” the captain said.
He turned back to Tom while Sukey wrote on her wax tablets. “In eight days, I need to be two days south of Albinkirk,” he said. “Because the rest of us are going to turn on the archbishop right now-today. Win or die, and no quarter.” He looked around. “No quarter for the archbishop, that is. The rest of them can surrender as they need.”
Random all but cried out. “You’re going south?”
“All or nothing,” Gabriel replied. “And you and your friends are going straight to Harndon if we win.”
Ser Gerald shook his head. “Have you lost your wits, Gabriel?”
There were people present who’d never heard the captain’s name used so familiarly.
“In ten days we can have Harndon without a bolt loosed or a man dead,” Random insisted.
Ser Gabriel nodded. “In ten days, Thorn can have done a hundred years of damage to the north country. In fifteen days-the world could be over.”
Alcaeus was shaking his head vehemently. “Ser Gerald is correct,” he insisted. “The archbishop’s cause is lost even now.”
It was Gabriel’s turn to shake his head. He looked past his brother at Ser Michael, awake and yawning.
“It’s your father,” he said. “The archbishop will crown him King, won’t he?”
Michael nodded heavily. “We have the next claim-it’s distant, but-yes.” He sighed. “Of course, that’s how they bought Pater. It’s what Pater always wanted.” He looked at the Red Knight. “Of course, your claim through your mother ain’t bad.”
Gabriel ignored him. “I need Gavin-I’m sorry, brother-I need you to go west-now. As soon as dawn breaks. Somewhere on the south Cohocton, Mountjoy is fighting. Or sitting watching the border. Either way, he has all the Royal Foresters and most of the western lords of the Brogat.”
“Wasn’t he attainted?” asked Ser Michael.
“Only the fool archbishop would attaint a man with an army already in the field,” Gavin said. “I know Mountjoy. I’m going to marry his daughter. He wouldn’t leave his post.” He nodded. “You want him?”
“At Albinkirk,” Gabriel said.
“I still think you should move north yourself,” Gavin said. He rubbed the scales on his shoulder. “The sorcerer and his allies-they’re the real threat.”
“In ten days, the archbishop might be alone with two hundred Gallish lances,” Gabriel said. “But he might be the Chancellor of Alba with a thousand lances and some reluctant Alban support. Listen, friends-this is all beyond my experience. I’m listening when you speak. But my spirit says that if we march north, we’ll never regain Harndon, and if we march south, we’ll never regain Albinkirk or Lissen Carak.”
Unnoticed beyond the firelight, Sister Amicia sighed and spoke softly, but everyone strained to hear her.
“As Gabriel well knows, if we lose Lissen Carak, we lose a great deal.” She shook her head. “I am not at liberty to say all I know.”
“It is possible that if we lose Lissen Carak we lose everything,” Gabriel said. “Amicia, I have to ask you to ride with Tom, and go to Lissen Carak with all the knights of the Order. It’s all the garrison I can put in, but with the men we hired last year, it should prove enough.”
Amicia shook her head. “You will need me tomorrow.”
Gabriel shook his head back. “Sister, everyone needs you. Your healing powers are beyond anything-anything. But you-you yourself-are the most potent relief force I can send to your convent.”
Very quietly, she said, “But you might die.”
Gabriel met her on the bridge. “If I die, Michael and Tom and Sauce will pull it out,” he said. “If Lissen Carak falls-then he opens the gates, doesn’t he, Amicia?”
She bit her lip-no mean feat in the aethereal.
“I think that’s what this is about,” she said. “The Abbess never told me.”
“I was in those tunnels,” Gabriel said. “I guessed then.”
Amicia met his eye. “There are other places. Lissen Carak is not the only one.”
Gabriel shrugged. “It’s the one I can prevent,” he said. “I think that the Faery Knight is against Thorn. I do not think Harmodius has turned. But Alcaeus thinks I’m naive.”
Amicia sighed. “I want to believe in Harmodius,” she allowed. “I will go to Lissen Carak.”
Gabriel said, “We can win this.”
Amicia nodded. “I want to believe you. But is it not a basic tenant of war not to divide your forces? And are you not dividing yourself in every direction?”
He grinned. “Oh, dear Amicia. Yes. But I must divide you now to have a chance to combine you all later.”
She shook her head, and he left her, however much his soul cried out for him to stay-
Gabriel looked around. “So-tomorrow. Daybreak-one hour. Three battles. Ser Michael with the company in the van. Ser Ranald with the Royal Guard in the main body with the Queen, the young King, and any men of Lorica who will accompany us. Ser Gerald with the rearguard, commanding all the Harndoners we can raise.”