“Good. What of Duke Conrad and Lady Sabella’s army?”
“Taking up arms. There is movement in Kassel. It seems the battle is about to start between the besieged and their enemy. It seems the princess on the eastern slope has been alerted to our presence.”
“Good.”
“Further orders, Lord Stronghand?”
He considered his troops in their thousands, a mixed Eika and human force raised from the northern tribes and the eager Alban recruits, the largest army to march through these lands since the armies of the Dariyan Empire. He considered his lines of communication and supply, stretched thin, and his imperfect knowledge of the disputes that had destabilized the Wendish and Varren realms. He considered Alain, and the last words of the WiseMothers, now forever lost to their children.
Repay this debt.
He nodded, a human gesture, but in these days he sensed in himself a fine balance between the cold ruthlessness of dragons, the hidden strength of stone, and the quicksilver emotion that rules humankind. Once, long ago, the part of him that derived from human ancestry had lain quiescent, barely acknowledged, but his chance encounter with Alain Henrisson had changed him and, in the long run, altered him utterly.
“No,” he said to the waiting scout who, like all the Eika, had the patience of stone. “All is going as I have planned.”
“Up on the cart, most honored one,” said the Hessi youth sweetly as he walked up to Rosvita and Fortunatus without the least sign of nervousness. Of course, he had a hundred silent Eika soldiers guarding his back. He had no need to feel anxious. “There is room for you to ride with the driver, I think, holy one.”
The color of the sky was changing, in accordance with her mood. The once light haze of clouds was darkening quickly as a storm blew in.
“Brother Fortunatus! You must go back to the main party and tell them what happened. Let the Lions remain watchful, but on no account unless they hear word from me or from King Sanglant himself are they to attack a superior force.”
He grasped her hands. “I would not leave you, Sister!”
“Haste,” said the Hessi interpreter kindly, but he smiled wryly to show he must enforce his orders. “I will go with the good brother, back to your company. I have a message to give them.”
With a flash of his old smile, Fortunatus released Rosvita’s hands. He had tears in his eyes, but he faced the youth with a cheerful expression that did not blind Rosvita to his true feeling. “Will you teach me the letters of your secret cipher?”
The lad laughed outright, the most pleasing sound Rosvita had heard all day, something to make the heavens a little brighter, although the storm boiled ever closer, sweeping down from the north. “It is forbidden, yet there is one letter I might teach you. That which came first of all sounds on the day of Creation.”
He drew Fortunatus away, walking toward the rest of the company. From deep in the ranks, back by the wagons, a wailing rose toward the heavens, shouts of dismay and grief.
“What happened?” asked Rosvita in a low voice. “Did someone die?”
Breschius shrugged. “It’s possible. But I was walking in front of Princess Sorgatani. I saw nothing of what might have happened behind me.”
She took a step in the direction of the cries, but the Eika soldiers closed in around her and the wagon. The horses shied, fearful of that faint dry smell like stone baking under a hot sun. Breschius spoke softly to them, and they laid back their ears and began to walk with heads tossing anxiously.
Ai, God. She had called forth Sorgatani to vanquish the Eika, but instead some of her own people had died—and for nothing. They had accomplished nothing except to become prisoners of an invading army.
“Sister!”
Breschius tossed her a pair of old apples, quite wrinkled.
Busy hands keep the mind from straying to unproductive thoughts. What she had done could not be undone. She must keep her wits sharp for the road ahead. She caught up to the horses and walked alongside to coax the pair through the front ranks and onward along the Hellweg as they walked into the unknown heart of the Eika army.
5
“SOMETHING, but I don’t know what.” It was midday. Sanglant paced on Archer’s Tower, the highest on the walls of Kassel, and surveyed the valley. Conrad and Sabella had used their ground wisely, not bothering with a complete encirclement, since the steep slopes to the northeast of the town were too unstable for anyone to negotiate even on foot.
“What manner of something?” Liutgard brushed hair out of her eyes with a forearm. She had stood up here most of the day and the wind had torn all that time at her tightly braided hair, culling wisps that fluttered with each gust in greater numbers. She glanced to the north. “A storm coming?”
