"I am sorry,” Dosh said. “Truly, I am! I did not start this war. I am not even a warrior."
"I know. You were the other prince's plaything."
He withheld the obvious retort that she was D'ward's. “You are wellinformed."
"We women gossip."
That might be humor or cynicism, he could not tell. How much of his life story had he told to Anguan, and how much had she babbled to the women of Lemod? Ysian's features had not changed expression since she arrived. She was only a kid, but he sensed he was matching wits with a very shrewd woman.
"What else do you know about me?"
"That you are a liar."
"All men are liars!"
She did not reply. Admittedly his position put him at a considerable disadvantage, but he was annoyed that she was besting him in the conversation.
"I have never lied to D'ward."
"Yes, you have!” She glared. “He asked you to find him a copy of the Filoby Testament, and you told him there were none in the town. I know there were. You threw them in the river."
"That is not true!"
"I saw you. I followed you."
He gritted his teeth. “Does he believe that?"
"I told him about the books, but it was too late. You had found them all. He said he was not surprised. He said you had been sent to spy on him and that was why you had taken service with the prince, back last summer. He said there is a prophecy about him and a prince and you never mentioned it to him, so he knows you are not to be trusted. He thinks you are one of those people who cannot help lying all the time."
That was probably true. Telling the truth always seemed sort of risky. Still, lying was probably just a habit. He was as loyal to D'ward as his other loyalty permitted—but he could not explain that.
"You told D'ward about Moggpass."
She did not deny it, just sat and watched him as if he were a cake on a griddle.
"If he cannot trust me, how can he ever trust you? You betrayed your people to the leader of the army that killed your cousin. Why? What sort of woman does that?"
"He knows he can trust me."
Dosh snorted. “But you cannot trust him!"
"I trust him absolutely.” Her confidence was stupidly childlike and infuriatingly unshakable. He felt a sudden urge to crack it, to hurt.
"He took the city! He slew your family! And you think you can trust him? What madness is that? He is going to leave you tonight! What will your own people do to those who have aided the enemy?"
"I am coming with you tonight. I shall be your guide."
"He told the troopleaders that none of the women would come."
"Except me."
"He will not take his own woman and make his men leave theirs. He is not that sort of leader!” Why else had she cut her hair off, though?
Ysian shrugged—the first gesture he had seen from her. “I was raised on the south bank. I know Moggpass. I can help."
"He is lying to you, you know."
"No!"
Aha! Now the tinder was starting to smoke.
He sighed with great sadness. “Women in love are rarely reliable judges of character, Ysian Applepicker."
She bared her teeth at him. He chuckled, imagining her as wrestling partner. Usually he preferred boys tough and girls tender, but he would relish a sharp tussle with this firecub.
"What makes you think I am in love, Dosh Envoy?” she demanded.
"Ha! He is the Liberator. No one can refuse that man! I just watched him twist thirty warriors to the shape he wanted, all at the same time. Even I really do try to please him, as much as I can. No woman could resist him for a moment!"
Ysian tossed her head, perhaps forgetting that she had cut her hair. “You are jealous of me, Houseboy! Jealous because I live with D'ward!"
He flinched at the use of his former name, then sudden inspiration....
"Why are you laughing?” she shouted.
"I don't need to be jealous of you, girl! Do I? Nothing to be jealous of!"
She blushed furiously, confirming his guess. She really did look ready to club him, and for some reason that made him laugh even harder.
"We have more in common than I thought!” he taunted. “There's another way to win a woman's loyalty, isn't there?"
Only D'ward would have thought of that, or been capable of it.
34
GOLBFISH STOOD AT KOLGAN'S SIDE ON THE BATTLEMENTS, STARING down at the river. He felt ashamed of himself. The flow was half what it had been when he first came to Lemod, and he had never noticed the change. Beaches of shingle fringed both banks; ledges and boulders dispersed the channel; tree trunks and ice flows bridged some of the narrower gaps. An agile man could certainly work his way to the middle. Beyond that, the widest, fastest stretch ... well, that was what friends were for.
The sides of the gorge were vertical in places, and not much less than vertical everywhere else. He wondered who stood in the woods on the far side, watching the city.
He spoke for the first time since leaving Wagonmaker's. “By the five gods, he's right again! It is a way out, and the only way! He saw it and we did not."
Kolgan growled. “I wish I knew how he does that."
Golbfish had asked the Liberator that question once, but the answer had been something about a temple of learning somewhere, and he had not understood. “Where will you try?"
"Down there looks good,” the Joalian said, “but how could we get to it?"
They paced the parapet for an hour, until each had chosen a point of attack. The Nagians would try downstream, the Joalians upstream. The leaders would have to guide their men across by memory.
"Think we can do it?” Golbfish asked glumly.
"Cross? Some of us, yes.” The tall man glared across at the far cliffs and tugged at his red beard. “But to invade Thargvale with no cavalry, with very little surprise, with a larger army already in the field and able to cut our line of retreat ... You know this is madness?"
The alternative was worse.
"Have you ever been to Thargland?"
Kolgan shrugged. “Once. As a youth, I accompanied an uncle of mine on an embassy to Tharg. I was not impressed."
"You are a Joalian. You would not be impressed by a Thargian shitting gold bars."
"I would certainly have them appraised by a competent minter."
Golbfish chuckled, but it was a social chuckle, and false. “Tonight the river. Tomorrow the guerrillas, the forest, and the pass. We must take life one day at a time now and be grateful for it."
"Aye!” Kolgan said sourly. “And even if we fight our way home, Your Majesty, our troubles will not be over. Your brother will be well established on your throne now, with an army of his own, and my foes in the Clique will have drawn up detailed plans for my funeral."
This would not do. Leaders must maintain their own morale if they were to maintain their troops'. Golbfish squared his shoulders—as much as his shoulders would ever square.
"Look on the bright side. However it began, this is no longer a squalid territorial squabble. We are caught up in the affairs of gods. Many things are prophesied of the Liberator, some clear and some obscure. Many things are likewise prophesied for a man named D'ward, and now we know that D'ward and the Liberator are the same. The most famous of the prophesies is that the Liberator will bring death to Death. If you wanted to find Death, Kolgan Coadjutant, where would you go looking?"
Kolgan raised his eyes to the southern peaks, his red brows bunched in a fearsome scowl. “Are you suggesting he is going to lead us to the city itself?"