'It was kind of you, sir, and I thank you.' Ulmenetha appeared alongside her, taking the sleeping baby from the queen's arms. Axiana reached out and stroked the dress. It was wonderfully soft. Then she noticed — against the clean pure satin — how dirty her hands were. For the first time in days she felt embarrassment.
'There is an antechamber just beyond where the tent is placed,' said Banelion. 'There is a spring there. Some of my men have prepared a fire, and warmed some water. When you are ready you and your maidservant can refresh yourselves. I brought a small amount of scented oil with me to perfume the water.'
Before Axiana could reply another soldier entered, carrying a rough made crib, and a small, woven mattress. Setting it beside the queen he placed the mattress within it. 'Best I could do in the time, my lady,' he said, with a bow. Ulmenetha placed the babe within it. The child settled contentedly on the mattress, his sleep undisturbed.
The unexpected kindness left Axiana close to tears. She smiled at the soldier. 'You are most kind.' The man blushed and backed away.
The White Wolf gazed down at the babe, a far-away look in his eye. Then he straightened. 'There are some clothes for an infant at the bottom of the chest,' he said.
'You seem to have thought of everything,' said Axiana. 'I am most grateful. But tell me, how is it that you are here in our hour of need? We are a long way from the sea.'
He glanced at Ulmenetha. 'First Kalizkan appeared to me in a dream, then this lady came. She told me of your peril, and the threat to your son. She asked me to bring my men to this city. I did so willingly. And, if it is humanly possible I shall take you on to Drenan.'
Axiana sat quietly for a moment, gathering her thoughts. For the last few days she had been like a straw in the wind, swept along without the benefit of choice. Her life as a queen had meant less than nothing in the wilderness, and she had given birth to her child while kneeling in the mud like a peasant. But, here and now, was the moment of decision. Was she still a queen? Would her son live to find his destiny. She looked into the pale eyes of the White Wolf and saw the strength there, the iron will that had carried Skanda to a score of victories. 'And if I do not wish to go to Drenan?' she said, at last.
'Drenan would be safest,' he said.
'You swore an oath to Skanda. Do you accept his son as his rightful heir?'
'I do, lady.'
'Then I ask you again, as the mother to the king, what if I do not wish to go to Drenan?'
She knew this was difficult for him. Continued war between the two nations was more than likely. If Axiana remained in Ventria the Drenai would almost certainly declare independence. If she went to Drenan the Ventrians would find another emperor. At least with her and the child in Drenan the Drenai would have legitimate cause to reinvade Ventria. She held to his iron gaze without flinching. He smiled. 'If not Drenan,' he said, 'then I will escort you to wherever you wish to travel. You are not my hostage, your highness, nor my prisoner. I am your servant, and will do whatever you bid.'
Axiana rose. 'I will think on what you have said, general. But first I would like to bathe and lay aside these garments of travel.' He bowed and one of the soldiers stepped forward to lead the queen and Ulmenetha towards the antechamber.
The White Wolf strode to where Nogusta lay. Antikas Karios and Kebra rose. Banelion gave Antikas a cold look, then knelt beside the wounded warrior. Nogusta opened his eyes as Banelion took his hand. 'Am I always to rescue you, my boy?' he said, fondly.
'It would seem so. It is good to see you, general.' Nogusta's smile faded. 'Bison didn't make it.'
'I know. The priestess showed me his death in a dream. It was valiant, and no less than I would have expected from him. He was an obdurate man, and I liked him not at all. But he had heart. I admired that.'
Nogusta relaxed and closed his eyes. 'It is not over, general. There are three thousand Ventrians riding with the Demon Lord. They think he is Malikada.'
'I wish he was,' said Banelion, sourly. 'I'd have dearly-loved to slit his treacherous throat.'
'A feeling I am sure he would have reciprocated,' said Antikas Karios. The White Wolf ignored him.
'I am not troubled by the numbers of the enemy,' he told Nogusta. 'I am more concerned that they are being duped. Ulmenetha tells me that if the Demon Lord is successful the soldiers riding with him will — like Malikada — be possessed and destroyed. It is bad enough having to kill men in a good cause. But those Ventrians are going to die for the wrong reasons.'
'Good of you to concern yourself,' said Antikas, his words edged with sarcasm.
Once again Banelion ignored him. 'Rest now,' he told Nogusta. 'Regain your strength. I will do all that needs to be done.' Then he rose and his pale eyes rested, for a moment, on Antikas. 'I watched you fight alongside Dagorian on the bridge,' he said. 'I loved that boy, and it was good of you to say that prayer for him. I am not a religious man, but I would like to think that a light did appear for him, and lead him to your palace.' Without waiting for a response he strode away, calling his soldiers after him.
'He hates me, yet he praises me,' whispered Antikas. 'Truly he is a strange man.'
'Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't,' said Kebra. 'One rarely knows what the White Wolf is thinking. That's what makes him the best. There's never been a general like him.'
'You think he genuinely cares about what happens to the Ventrian troops?'
'Oh yes,' Kebra told him. 'He does not revel in slaughter. There is no battle madness in him.'
Antikas looked down. Nogusta was sleeping again. He knelt beside the black man and looked closely at his face. A thin sheen of sweat lay upon the skin, and snow white bristles were showing on his shaven head. 'It is easy to forget how old he is,' said Antikas, with a sigh. He looked up and smiled at Kebra. 'I watched him fight Cerez, and I marvelled at his skill. I thought him to be around forty years of age. Had I known he was this old I would have bent my knee to him.'
Glancing down once more he saw the talisman on Nogusta's chest begin to glow, the silver moon in the golden hand, shining like a tiny lantern.
'What does that mean?' asked Antikas.
'Evil is near,' said Kebra, lifting his hand and making the sign of the Protective Horn.
The White Wolf stood outside the ruins and once more cast his eyes over the landscape. There was a line of hills to the left and right, thinly covered by trees and brush, but the ground was flat and uncluttered between the hills. The Ventrian army was mainly cavalry, and he pictured all possible lines of attack.
He glanced back at the ruins. They could, of course, decline a pitched battle here, and move around the ruins, coming at him from all sides, but he thought this unlikely. Cavalry could not operate effectively in the ruins themselves, and by spreading themselves thin they would hand the advantage to the Drenai foot soldiers. No, the best chance of victory for the enemy lay in a direct frontal assault, seeking to sunder the line and scatter the defenders.
Banelion summoned his officers to him, and began to give out orders. They listened without comment, then moved back to their men.
The sun was sinking towards the mountain peaks, and there was perhaps an hour before dusk.
Ulmenetha walked out to stand alongside the old man. 'How is Nogusta?' he asked.
'A little better, I think.'
'Good. It is bad enough that Dagorian had to die. I dearly want Nogusta to survive.'
'Did you mean what you said to the queen?' she asked him, her frank blue eyes meeting his iron gaze.
'I always mean what I say,' he told her. 'I think she would be safer in Drenan, but I am her servant, and it is not for me to gainsay her wishes.'
'But you do foresee problems if she decides to remain in Ventria?'