Nods all around, each of them looking as if they were hearing this for the first time, even though it was hardly news to any of them.
"But we have what they'll never have," she continued, holding her young head high, her pride in them showing in every word. "They don't have a home and they don't want to trouble to build one for themselves; they want to steal ours. They don't have families, even, so Alberich says," she gestured at Alberich, who contented himself with looking somber. "And I'd feel sorry for them, I'd even invite them to come settle if they'd just asked us! That's what we're all about, is Valdemar—we don't keep people out if all they want is peace! That's the way we've always been, haven't we?"
Murmurs of assent, with a growl under it.
Good.
"But since these Tedrels don't want peace, don't want to build, and only want to steal our land and homes from us—there's only one way we can meet them," she continued, with a look of fierce pride that would have been incongruous on such a young face, but for the circumstances. "We didn't begin this war, but by all that is holy, I swear we will end it!"
It wasn't the best speech he'd ever heard, but it did exactly what Alberich wanted it to; it galvanized them. Partly it was Selenay's personality, partly it was that they wanted to find a figurehead for their cause. They cheered for her, and that was what counted; she thanked them in a way that made them cheer for her again, and when she mounted Caryo, she was glowing with enthusiasm and flushed with pleasure.
Then it was off in another direction, to another campfire, wandering in a random fashion, skipping some groups that seemed to be intent on some business or entertainment of their own, going on to others who might need her speech more. Selenay was beginning to run out of energy and wilting a little when Alberich called a halt to the visits for the night, and led her and her guardians back to her tent.
"Did I—" she asked quietly, as the encampments quieted and the fighters around them let their fires die down and sought their bedrolls.
"Well, you did," he assured her. "Very well. And tomorrow, again you will do so, and the next night, and the next. Each time, a different direction, a different set of fires. And know, all will, that their Princess cares for them, and thinks of them, and their King cares for them and his daughter sends to see they are well. So for you they will fight—"
"Not for me!" she exclaimed. "For Valdemar!"
"But Valdemar, you are," he countered. "A face they need, upon the idea. That face, you are."
She might have continued to voice her objections, but they had reached her tent, and he bundled her inside without standing on ceremony as soon as she had unsaddled Caryo and rubbed her down. "Sleep now," he told her. "Think and argue on the morrow."
And there he left her, too tired, really, to do more than he had told her to do. She let the tent flap fall shut behind her, Caryo ambled into the lean-to that served as her stable, and he mounted Kantor again.
:She has the spirit in her,: he told his Companion with intense satisfaction as they reached his tent, and he dismounted to free Kantor of his burden of gear. :And she found words enough that were right to do the job.:
:Caryo helped. But you're right. And this is something that's needed.: Kantor flicked an ear back in his direction. :She's putting heart in them.:
He heaved the saddle onto its stand, and hung the bridle up beside it, taking up a wisp of straw to give the Companion a quick rubdown. :And they in her.: That was the beauty of the thing; even as she gave them something tangible to fight for, they gave her confidence, and helped her to find her courage. The more courageous she felt, the more heart she'd put in them. :There. That should hold you until morning.:
The Companion gave himself a brisk shake, and walked into his own lean-to. :You're wasted as Weaponsmaster,: Kantor said thoughtfully, from out of the shadows under the canvas. :You should have been a Councilor.:
:Vkandis forbid!: he exclaimed indignantly. :I would rather muck out stalls!:
:There—it's a similar occupation,: countered Kantor, and his mental chuckle followed Alberich all the way to his bed.
16
FOR days, there had been nothing but drill and drill for the men, plan and replan in the commanders' tent. Every day Selenay sat at her father's side and listened, putting in a word or two that was always apt, always to the point. Every night she and Alberich and her bodyguards went out to another set of campfires, talking to another set of fighters. He tried to see to it that she had words with every sort—from the young Knights of the heavy cavalry to the archers and pikemen, from the half-wild hill folk serving as scouts to the massive brutes of the heavy foot. He had his own ears to the ground, and he was satisfied with what he heard—as he'd hoped, the men and women she spoke with talked, and soon it spread like wildfire across the entire army that the King and his pretty daughter were "right folk" worth fighting for, who knew their people and cared for their people and would be right in there slogging it out with their people when the day came. The mood in the army shifted imperceptibly and took on a focus. That was what he wanted; Selenay had helped to make it happen. Now there was a sense of the rightness of the cause, and a certainty of purpose. Now their leaders were not some impersonal images somewhere. The King and Heir had personalities and faces, and were well on the way to becoming "beloved."
"Beloved" was excellent; men (and presumably women too) fought fiercely for something that was "beloved." And should anything happen to Sendar, his daughter stood a fighting chance of being able to take up the reins without a pause or hesitation. Nor, should the worst happen, was there now any chance that another contender could take the throne away from her—not that any Herald would try, but he had to operate on the assumption that there could always be someone willing to attempt a coup. Certainly, the common people, the Guard, and the army would support her without a second thought, should a would-be usurper appear. He hadn't revealed that part of his plan to anyone, not even Kantor—though he had the feeling Kantor had guessed it and approved. As Sendar would approve, if he ever learned it himself.
Selenay, of course, would be horrified, which was why she would never hear of it.
Now he sat in Kantor's saddle, under a clear, summer sky, with dew still wet on the grass. The planning was over; it was too late now to wonder if they had overlooked anything.
For now it all came down to this: two massive armies, both rested, facing each other across firm ground. The Tedrels had taken their time getting here, and they seemed unsurprised to find the Valdemaran Guard waiting for them. "Seemed" was the operable word, since there was no way of knowing for certain if they were surprised or not; when the Tedrels began to move, Sendar ordered the spies out and back home.