«True.» He gripped Blade's hand. «We leave as soon as we've got the men and supplies. I think we'd better take some captured amulets too. If we have to follow her into the forest, we'll be ready to do it.»
«And you'll take Blade away from Chaia for the gods know how long!» snapped Haima. «Was that your purpose in suggesting this?» She was splattered with other people's blood and looked like some demonic goddess of war. Right now she also looked angry enough to draw her sword on the woodcutter.
Blade knew he had to play peacemaker. «Haima, I can't do much here, even to help with the prisoners. I can do much more with Daimarz. He and Yishpan are both right. We've won a battle, but Tressana is the key to winning the war. We can't leave anything undone to strike at her. Nothing would make me happier than to stay here and begin giving Chaia your grandchildren, but do you want me to desert my post while I'm still needed?»
Haima sighed. «Blade, I wish I knew how much of that is the truth. But you are right about my asking you to desert. As I value my own honor, I cannot ask you to give up yours.» She kissed him lightly and walked away, her shoulders sagging.
Blade really wished he did have nothing to do but guard prisoners and find ways of not sleeping with Chaia. Unfortunately he had to stay with Daimarz and try to keep him from throwing his life away to kill Tressana. He also had to try to save the queen herself, if he could. Her death would still mean chaos in Jaghd, probably even worse now that so many leaders were dead or captured. He hoped he could find a way to save Tressana without defying the Elstani, but the chances were slim. Without joining Daimarz, they didn't exist.
«All right, Daimarz. I think we'll need some refugees as guides, as well as your woodcutters. Most of the prisoners we've released aren't in shape for any more fighting.»
«I agree with you about the refugees, but how do we choose them? They'll be killing each other for a chance at Tressana.»
«Pick out the two or three hundred strongest, then draw lots.»
«That could work. We'll want everyone in Jaghdi clothing, but with our own weapons. Then…» They sat down on a leather blanket in front of a nearby tent and began planning.
Chapter 22
Tressana found her legs shaking as she slipped from her rolgha's back to the rocky ground. She cursed her own weakness. She shouldn't be so tired, not when she was riding all day. She had to set a good example for the rest of her people, and put courage back into the Jaghdi fugitives who had returned from the disaster in the Kettle of the Winds. Some of them had walked for five days, managing to get through the ranks of Elstani that had been stationed to the northwest of the camp.
Unfortunately her legs wouldn't obey her. She had to grip the stirrups for a moment to keep from falling. Then Jollya was there-Jollya, so good and reliable even if she was her father's daughter. Jollya was helping her away from the rolgha, so gently that no one could see the queen's weakness. By the time the queen's tent was up, Tressana could walk into it herself, even though she lay down the moment she was out of sight.
She must have slept, because the next thing she knew it was no longer twilight but night. A cold rain was falling, and the wind made the tent ripple and crackle. Jollya was there again. She had soup and wine on a tray, and Tressana discovered that she was finally hungry.
«Your Grace,» said Jollya when the queen was finished. «How much farther east do we want to go?»
«As far as we need to,» said Tressana shortly. She'd thought that question was settled, although she hadn't reached the point of saying «You will obey!» to Jollya or Sikkurad.
«Haven't we done all that can be done to help our people escape?»
«Perhaps. But we haven't done all we can do against the Elstani. If we can mount the fugitives… Why do you think we're herding all the rolghas with us?»
«Your Grace, our fugitives are dying on their feet! The only reason they aren't actually dying is because they're eating the dead rolghas! How long-?»
«As long as it takes us to avenge our dead and kill Richard Blade.»
«Him again.»
«Jollya!» Tressana's voice cracked like a whip. «Did you love him too?»
Jollya jumped up, looking startled. «Yes. I loved him, and I don't want him dead.»
«You filthy little-!»
«I'm not throwing away the lives of men who follow me to take an impossible vengeance. Your Grace, I beg you. You're trying loyalty beyond what it can bear. Let's go home and-«
Jollya had her mouth open when Tressana hit her in the stomach. it stayed open as Tressana picked up a spear and smashed her across the back of the neck with it. Then it closed and she crumpled forward, to lie face down on the furs.
Tressana stood over the fallen woman, holding the spear and afraid for a moment that she was going to vomit from sheer rage and disgust. Blade had betrayed her even before he fled to Elstan and taught those-those- She couldn't find a word. Before he taught those people to fly and destroyed her army. He'd betrayed her with Jollya, which made it even worse. And how much treason had he been planning even while he was in her bed?
Tressana felt as if her head was going to split apart. She pressed her hands against her temples and screamed out loud. That released some of the pressure, but it also brought the other guardswomen on the run. They stopped at the door of the tent, staring down at Jollya. With a terrible effort Tressana forced out coherent words.
«Jollya tried to kill me. I had to strike her down. Tell Siharma she's captain of the Women's Guard now and bring her to me. Bind Jollya and take her to the treasure tent.»
«Yes, Your Grace.»
With the aid of a hand on the tent pole, Tressana stayed on her feet until she'd given Siharma her orders and Jollya had been taken out. Then she had to sit down.
Perhaps she'd been hasty in striking Jollya. Jealousy over a man who was now beyond the reach of either of them was foolish. But once she'd struck, there was no way back. Jollya could no longer be trusted, perhaps not to obey, certainly not to keep her mouth shut. Siharma would do well enough in the Women's Guard, and meanwhile Jollya would make a good hostage for her father's loyalty. It also meant a clear road to Manro, and that was becoming more important each day. If the loyalty of the men was beginning to fray, Manro's death at the hands of the Elstani would repair much of the damage. It would fill most of the men with a burning desire for vengeance on the Elstani, and remove the king as a possible rallying point for anyone who became discontented.
Blade was rubbing animal fat on his blistered feet when the refugee family arrived with word of Tressana's camp. His feet were as tough as leather, and it took a good deal to get them blistered, but keeping up with vengeance-driven Elstani was enough. Daimarz considered thirty miles a day no more than healthy exercise. Blade had met only one other people who could cover ground as fast on foot, the tall warriors of Zunga. When he set off Blade doubted that any men on foot could hunt a mounted enemy. Now he suspected that a well-fed Elstani could move faster than a hungry rolgha, and certainly the enemy's mounts were hungry.
Daimarz listened to the refugees for only a minute before calling Blade over to hear the rest of their story. It took a while, because the father was always interrupting himself to ask Blade if he could join the raiders in their attack. Blade kept refusing to make any promises to a man half-mad with rage, exhaustion, and hunger.
Tressana was no more than ten miles away, and had King Manro with her. Blade recognized both banners from the man's description. She had four or five hundred armed men with her, and twice as many gaunt rolghas.