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As soon as they were close, Orelia pulled rein and slipped easily to the ground. She was definitely worried, not to mention cute and a very good horsewoman.

“
Orelia, what is it?”

“
Sumto, will you help me?”

“
Of course.” Ouch. Suckered.

She took a step closer, almost close enough to touch. Her brother stiffened in his saddle and her sister came down off her own horse all in a rush. Overprotective, I thought, but honor can be a prickly thing amongst city nobles. I watched her expression change moment by moment, nervous, wary, worried.

“
Orelia. Just tell me.”

“
My betrothed is a prisoner of the barbarians,” she blurted.

I blinked, something had flashed in my eye but I paid no attention to that. I was busy. I didn't know whether to sigh at the inevitability of it or swear aloud at the injustice. I'd already said I'd do it, whatever it was. Now I just needed to know if I was breaking him free or paying a ransom. I prayed briefly for the latter before I asked.

“
His name and status is known to them, and they have asked for something,” her expression went deep into fearful and her voice dropped to a whisper. There was a hint of shame in there as well.

“
They asked for something? Not money?”

She shook her head. “Not money,” her sister said. “The head of the Ensibi King.”

That's when I started swearing.

#

I was still swearing in my head an hour later when Meran got back from the city. I could tell it was him at once; two riders, each leading a string of horses. Meran and the drover, ten horses for us and one for the drover to ride back on. I mounted as soon as I saw them. The wait was nearly over but I was no longer that pleased about it. I had already thought it through and there was no way I could get out of trying to get her betrothed out of there. The ransom was un-payable. To kill and extract the head of an ally was not an option. If Orthand got a hint of it I would have made a powerful enemy. Getting caught doing it just didn't bear thinking about. Orthand was a wealthy man and not one to be trifled with. Worst case scenario, death. Best, exile. Lots of unpleasant options in between. Even if I was lucky enough to get away with the enmity of a powerful man there are a hundred ways he could make life unpleasant for me, and would as a matter of principle even if he didn't take the matter too seriously. Of course, that was assuming the chieftain's protectors didn't get carried away or mistakenly believe they could get away with killing me. None of that looked good.

The army was out of sight and the baggage train was well on the move by the time Meran pulled up and my men took their mounts. I decided Meran had purchased good animals as I cast a jaded eye over them and judged their worth. Four extra sets of saddle and tack and I didn't suppose I could grudge him that. Let him have a horse to ride. Who knew? I might need him to ride messages. Relieved of his string of four horses, Meran took control of the other six and paused. I raised an eyebrow and he tapped his free hand to the saddlebags behind him. I gestured that he should keep the bags and he bowed in the saddle and headed for the baggage train. There was money in the saddlebags and I trusted him with it better than I trusted myself. I drank and gambled. I had actually decided to give both a rest for a year, but why leave myself open to temptation?

So. Paying the ransom was out. That left rescue. The bad part of that was who had him and where. The Alendi had him, of course. And they were keeping him at the Eyrie, their one serious stronghold. And I was on my own in this. No way my six men would follow me there even if I asked them.

I looked back at the four men who were with me and assessed their riding skills, all were fair enough in the saddle and I didn't have to worry about them falling off.

Before I kicked my mount into a canter I asked one question. “How far to the lands of the Ensibi?”

Pakat considered for a moment. “About five hundred miles.”

That would take about twenty-five days or so. Plenty of time to worry about the details.

#

Anyone who wants to know what it's like to ride five hundred miles can do it themselves. At the end of the first day I was shattered. I'm a good horseman but all day in the saddle was more than I was used to. Everything hurt. I dropped to the ground with a great deal less elegance than I had hoped. My lower body was locked in place and straightening my legs was an agony. I hung on to the saddle horn for a bit, but managed not to groan aloud as I straightened up as much as I could.

It was a good two hours to sunset and the bulk of the army was busy building a fort around us. It was standard practice and good habit to do so, even though we were in friendly territory. Done for the same reason that we had scouts out in front, rear and to the sides of the army. It has only happened twice but the rivalry between patrons can lead to clashes within our own lands. It would be pretty embarrassing to run into an ambush within a hundred miles of the city.

For a while I walked the horse to cool him down and stretch out the rigidity of my own muscles. There was no two ways here. I was going to war and I had to do what needed doing. Primarily get fit enough to survive any fighting I might have to do. I figured twenty-odd days in the saddle would shed a good deal of the fat I was carrying and tighten up most of the muscles that counted. Sometime after these muscles loosened up I would start the morning with calisthenics and upper body exercises. I was looking forward to it, or so I told myself. I passed the horse to one of the men as soon as I figured I didn't need to hold onto the bridle in order to walk.

The camp took shape around us. There were seven thousand men doing the work so it didn't take long. A ditch was dug, the earth being thrown inward to form a rampart. Each man carried a stake which was then rammed home to form a short wall. Inside, a broad space was left clear with designated areas for horses and wagons. Tents were erected in an inner square with another more or less clear space in the center of that. In a permanent camp there would be a few buildings here, a hospital, command and administration building, and so forth. Accordingly, my charges being the battle mages and healers, it was from this clear space that I watched things come together. Our slaves and servants appeared and tents were erected in the place where the field hospital would be located in a permanent camp. As soon as my tent was ready I ordered hot water and ducked inside. I had nothing pressing to do that needed doing and the last thing I wanted to do was sit down so I stripped off the borrowed armor and paced back and forth and fretted while I waited. The other commanders would have duties to keep them busy but I was only responsible for sixteen men, my six men forming the bodyguard for the other ten, and all of them seemed able to look after themselves. In a way I felt pretty superfluous, which normally would have made me fairly happy. I could clean up, which I would do as soon as Meran brought the damn water, pull on a robe and stretch out in relative comfort to read till I fell asleep. It sounded good, but I couldn't help feeling like there was something I should be doing. There wasn't and I couldn't figure out why this bothered me. Perhaps it was just arrogance. A man of my class should be doing something, should be in control. And I wasn't. It was that simple. Damn. My upbringing had obviously affected me more deeply than I had ever suspected. I had the urge to compete with my peers, to shine, to put them in the shade, to blind them with my brilliance, I wanted to gather the reins of power into my hands, I wanted control, I wanted responsibility. I wanted all the things I had been meticulously avoiding my whole life. Or at least part of me did.

Well, I could take control of what I had control over.

Meran interrupted my introspective self-analysis with blessed hot water and fresh clothes. I washed and dressed and, feeling better for it, stepped back out into the dusk of the evening to take charge of things.

Kerral appeared as if by magic as soon as I barked his name.

“
Sir!” He had snapped to attention and saluted in mere moments and I had to resist the urge to throw my arms around him and give him a big hug. It was as if he had been waiting for me to catch up, which I guess he had.

“
Report.”

I could almost see him resisting the urge to smile. I had done nothing in the way of formalizing relationships with my command, appointed no one, fixed no chain of command. I'd ignored my responsibilities, light though they may be, but that was over now and he knew it. Dammit, I think he was proud of me.

“
Our quartermaster has established contact with stores and our supplies of food and other necessities are secured, sir. The men are settled under discipline and prepared for their duties. Weapons and armor have been inspected and the men pass muster. Horses and spare gear have been checked and all is in order. Your charges are secure and their comforts are being attended to, sir.”

“
My slave has the war chest. See that it is guarded, Centurion.” First Centurion would have been more pretentious than I could take, but he needed to know what I intended. Subconsciously, decisions had been made. We had needed horses and I had sent Meran back to the city to bring a librarian to my home and sell my library to him. The assessment would have been on the low side, due to time issues, but I needed that money now so now it was. I knew their value and guessed what I would get; enough to buy the horses and leave a good sum over, and that would become my war chest. I was as capable of raising an army as Tulian and to hell with taking his orders and there was nothing anyone could do about it. My soldiers would have to be raised on route but there were several towns between here and the end of our lands and I had five good men to act as centurions and doubtless Kerral could find one more. My men. My army. My command. My life. My destiny. And if I was going to keep my word I needed to do this, though I honestly think I would have anyway. Once the lion smells blood it wants to eat.

#

On the second day of the march I'd woken before dawn and presented myself at the commander's tent to receive the password. I had been given no other instructions. It felt like a waste of time, but there was no avoiding it.

Later that day we entered the Modrasin hills, and this is where my father's agent caught up with me. We were traveling in a loose group, two or three abreast, and it was a moment or two before I noticed the stranger, riding at Meran's side, leading a pack animal. My gaze traveled from Meran to his companion who caught my eye, held my gaze and moved closer. Pakat was between us with steel bared, his mount tossing its head and forcing the other's mount away. Meran made space and Kerral was on the other side of the man, also with his blade drawn.

“
Give your name and business with the commander!”

Pakat had the voice of command and I saw the smaller man pale slightly, his confidence dented. He had obviously asked for me, found my slave and commanded Meran to bring him into my presence. No faulting him for that but my men were having none of it and I chose to let them have their way.

“
Give answer, man!” Kerral was just as clearly serious.

The newcomer didn't waste effort on bravado. Though I was pretending not to notice I could clearly see him eye the weapons and the men clinically. This was a man who had seen naked steel before and was not automatically intimidated by it. I re-interpreted his first reaction, he had paled in anger as some men are made flush by it. His sudden stillness had not been fear but preparation. By his hairstyle and dress he was a freedman, a former slave who had earned or bought his freedom. He answered Pakat but was more clearly addressing me. “I have messages and gifts for the commander. My name is Sapphire.”

I acknowledge that I had heard this and by gesture let it be known that Sapphire was to be passed into my presence. I'd guessed already who had sent him and, from the bundled goods on the pack horse, what he brought. A few moments later he rode by my side and held out a scroll for me. “A letter from your father,” he informed me.

I had already guessed as much and decided on my response. I took the letter and tucked it under my thigh. “Travel with my slave, I'll write a reply tonight and you can return with it.”