"Yes." Magnus never doubted the efficiency of his captain, or his troops. "I know.You always do the finest work, Captain. It's not your men I'm worried about." He looked over the massed armies that spread across Bearn's beaches. Viewed from a distance, they seemed such a mismatched, ragtag lot, dragged together only by a common enemy. His men knew war. His captains were tough and experienced. Most of the Northern armies skirmished enough between themselves to remain in fighting condition, but the West had seen too much peacetime. They had grown dangerously soft. So many of their men came fresh from farms, shops, and apprenticeships. They were uncertain and, worse, unpredictable.
Apparently misunderstanding Magnus' concern, Captain Sivaird nodded. "There's a unit led by one of the Knights of Erythane, sir."
"Yes." Magnus knew what his captain wanted to say. "Commanded by Sir Ra-khir, who, I understand, once had the audacity to declare war on the entire kingdom of Pudar. Single-handed." He grinned at the thought, the savage courage it must have taken, and could not help feeling impressed.
"Our scouts say his band of outcasts includes a fair number of blonds who aren't Northmen, and as many women as men."
Magnus glared at his captain. "So, we're using scouts now to spy on our own army?"
Sivaird could not have looked more shocked if Magnus had asked him to transform into a kitten."Well, sir… I…" He flushed."There isn't much else for them to do, sir. And they're not exactly our 'own army,' sir. They're-"
"Renshai," Magnus finished. "Yes. All the generals already knew it."
The surprise remained indelibly etched on the captain's face. "But, sir. Don't the generals… I mean, shouldn't we…"
"Shouldn't we what, Captain? Fight amongst ourselves before we take on the enemy?"
"No, sir. But-"
"Ban some of the most competent swordsmen?" Magnus remained relentless. "Perhaps, if we do it right, we can drive them to the bosom of our enemy so we will have to fight pirates and Renshai simultaneously."
The captain seemed about to let the matter drop. Then, suddenly, he flexed his fingers and stiffened his jaw in clear resolve. "Sir, respectfully, should we allow demons to battle among us? Animals, perhaps? Bogeymen?"
General Magnus smiled. "If they're fighting on our side against a common enemy, why not? Perhaps bogeymen have necessary skills we don't possess. As to animals, even our own army has cavalry. We can always battle the demons after the war is over."
"Weakened and bloody."
Magnus made a throwaway gesture. "If necessary, yes. And remember, they're getting weakened and bloody alongside us. Better to fight a strong enemy together and a weak one afterward than to fight both at once at the top of their strength."
Captain Sivaird nodded. "I suppose you're right, sir, as always. But it feels so wrong to throw our lot in with…" He practically spat as he spoke the next word, "… Renshai, even temporarily."
"War can make for strange allies."
"Strange allies," Sivaird repeated, most thoughtfully. "General, sir. That reminds me of another concern."
Magnus gave his captain his full attention, though he knew what had to come next.
"Captain Alsmir is having trouble with those two younglings you picked up in the bar in Aerin."
Having heard exactly what he expected, Valr Magnus nodded.
"The younger one's clearly never been trained. We had to give him a weapon, then we took it back. He's more dangerous with it to himself, and to us, than to the enemy. Sir, to be utterly frank, he has the courage of a lion and the fighting ability of a turtle."
"A dangerous combination," Magnus had to admit. "I know the older one can fight."
"Judging from his sword forms, competently. But he's sullen, irritable, and oppositional."
"You mean, he's an adolescent."
"An adolescent who could do with a few solid spankings."
Magnus laughed. "I dare you. He'd sever your hands before they reached his bottom."
Captain Sivaird's look became one of outrage. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I've been watching him, too. And you've gravely underestimated his skill." Something I can't afford to do.
The captain grunted. "With all respect, sir, maybe you're underestimating my skill."
Magnus had not meant to offend his loyal captain. "You have many skills, Captain, and I appreciate all of them."
Sivaird bowed his head, silently acknowledging the compliment.
"But this boy's swordsmanship is peerless. I accepted him into my ranks even though he stated outright that he would follow orders only if they suited him."
Sivaird's brows whisked upward, and he opened his mouth; but no words emerged. "One such as that is very dangerous, sir. Not just for himself, but for every one around him."
"Yes." No one had to remind Valr Magnus of that fact. "Better in my command than another's, though, yes?"
Sivaird's frown suggested he did not agree, though his words spoke otherwise. "Yes, sir. If he turns coat, no one's better suited to bring him down, sir. But, his insolence does undermine Captain Alsmir's command."
"Then tell Alsmir not to command him. Tell the captain to leave the young man utterly and completely to me."
Captain Sivaird saluted. "It would be my pleasure."
Alsmir's, too, Magnus guessed. He sighed, feeling most sorry for Sir Ra-khir. One Renshai was bad enough. What must it be like to command… to attempt to command… hundreds?
CHAPTER 44
War is the only proper school of the healer\
Saviar had no difficulty finding his father's white charger, a beacon amidst the milling infantries on Bearn's southern beachfront. For the first time, it bothered him that the Knights of Erythane had chosen such a garish symbol of leadership. It made them easy to recognize among the peasantry, but it also branded his father the obvious target for every missile and sword.
As the three walked along the beach, struggling through scraggly weeds and clambering over heaps and dunes, it soon became clear that Ra-khir studied them as well. Silver Warrior faced in their direction. One of the knight's gloved hands sat squarely on his forehead, shading his eyes from the reflected glare. He clambered down from the horse long before details became clear. He could not yet have recognized their features, but he already seemed to know that he needed to greet these newcomers, that they headed toward his unit.
Apparently, Subikahn also noticed. "He knows it's us."
"You think so?" Saviar tightened his grip on Chymmerlee's hand to help her slog through a loose pile of sand. "How could he possibly know? I wouldn't have known it was him if the guard hadn't told me. He looks like any other knight."
Subikahn grinned. "They do try their best to appear identical, don't they? But if anyone's askew, it's always Ra-khir."
Saviar also smiled. It had become a family joke, one neither Ra-khir nor Kedrin appreciated. Ra-khir did spend the most time performing stable muckings, cleaning tabards, and mending hats. If a hair was out of place, it was a red one. If a sword angled slightly off kilter, it was always Ra-khir's. Saviar did not know if his father truly had the worst eye for perfection or if his grandfather simply tended to expect more of him and thus focused on every tiny flaw.
They watched as Ra-khir handed his reins to a boy and started walking toward them.
"Oh, yes," Subikahn said confidently. "He's recognized us."
Saviar could not argue. It certainly seemed as though the knight intended to greet them warmly.
Then, suddenly, Ra-khir was running toward them, and Saviar felt a smile stretch across his face, his own feet moving without the need to guide them. And, a moment later, they fell into one another's arms, laughing, smiling, clinging.
"Papa," Ra-khir said into his father's neck. "You're all right."
"I'm all right?" Ra-khir laughed again. "I thought you were dead."
I was, practically. Saviar did not bother to share that information. Barely over his paralyzing grief, Ra-khir might see that as a reason to protect his oldest son mercilessly.