"Were the houses old?" Gries asked.
Enly looked puzzled. "Old?"
"Did it look like the Mettai had been living there for a long time?"
"Yes, it did," Enly said. "Some of the houses were in disrepair, and Fayonne and her people seemed desperate to get away. I definitely had the sense that they'd been there for many years."
Gries shook his head. "That I don't understand. Like I said, the Mettai are farmers. They depend on the land, and they know how to care for it. If the soil was bad, they would have left long ago."
"So what does all this mean?" Enly asked.
"I don't know," Gries told him. He looked at Tirnya. "Watch them. I doubt they'd betray us. If they've come this far, they must be sincere in their commitment to the alliance. But much of what you've told me strikes me as odd."
It wasn't the first time one of Tirnya's companions had forced her to acknowledge that these Mettai were strange, and that they seemed too willing to join the Eandi army. But perhaps because it came from someone she barely knew, rather than from her father or Enly, both of whom had spoken against this invasion, she took Gries's warning more seriously than she had the others.
Stri joined them before she could say more, and began to ask Gries questions about his city and the Northlands. Gries seemed happy enough to talk about his home. When he learned that Stri came from southern Stelpana, near the Ofirean, he had questions of his own. For a long time Tirnya and Enly listened politely as the two captains went back and forth with tales of their childhoods.
After some time, Enly gestured to Tirnya that he wanted to speak with her alone. Reluctantly she let him lead her a short distance from the others. "You want to gloat?" she asked when he turned to face her.
Enly gave her a sour look. "Gloat?"
"He agrees with you about the Mettai."
"After all that I told you about Gries earlier today, why do you think I'd gloat about him agreeing with me?"
He had a point.
"So what do you want?" she asked.
Enly started to say something, but then stopped himself, his eyes locked on hers. After a brief pause, he shook his head. "Nothing. I I… I was looking for an excuse to get away from Gries and Stri."
"That's it?"
He shrugged. "That's it."
Tirnya wasn't sure she believed him, but she also didn't care to press the matter. "Fine then," she said. She turned on her heel and strode back to where her father was speaking with Waterstone's marshal.
Enly remained where he was, alone at the fringe of their small circle. He ate what was left of his meal, and he stared at the fire, though several times Tirnya glanced his way only to find that he was already watching her.
Eventually, Jenoe announced that he was going to sleep, and he urged the rest of them to do the same.
"We begin our march toward the Horn in the morning," he said. "And now that we're in Fal'Borna land, we could meet up with Qirsi warriors anytime. I want all of you well rested."
They bade one another good night, and started back to their respective parts of the camp. Tirnya hadn't gone far, though, before she remembered that she still wore her father's cloak. Laughing at herself, she turned and walked back to the fire. As she drew near she saw that her father wa talking to Enly, and that he looked angry.
After a moment's hesitation, she stepped closer, taking care to keep ou of the firelight lest one of them see her.". .. was unacceptable," her father was saying. "I understand that you're lord heir, and I'm but a marshal in your father's army. But he made it a deal that for the duration of this march and whatever battles are to come, you are under my command."
"Yes, Marshal. I agreed to that as well."
"Then act like it, damnit!"
Enly shook his head. "I didn't do anything-"
Jenoe raised a finger, silencing him. "Don't! You know full well what you did. Asking Gries what his father thought of this war. What were you thinking?"
"I didn't see anything wrong with the question."
"I know you too well, Enly. I know how clever you are. Don't pretend to be a fool."
Enly looked away, the muscles in his jaw tightening.
"You think this is a bad idea," Jenoe said. "I understand that. But we're here now. That discussion is over. And trying to open it again in front of our allies is beneath you." He rubbed a hand over his face. "What I said before is true. We could find ourselves facing the Fal'Borna tomorrow, or the next day. The last thing I want is for Gries and Hendrid to doubt our commitment to this invasion. I hope you didn't mention your reservations to the Mettai."
"I didn't," Enly said, still not looking at him.
"Good." He gestured vaguely at the camp. "These soldiers must have complete confidence in us, Enly. Doubt in the mind of a warrior is fatal."
"I understand, Marshal."
Jenoe stared at him for several moments, as if weighing whether he should say more. Finally he nodded once. "All right then. Don't do it again."
"Yes, sir."
"Get some sleep."
Enly nodded and met Jenoe's gaze for an instant. Then he walked away. Jenoe watched him leave before stepping into his tent.
Tirnya stood in the darkness for some time. She should have been angry with Enly. This was why she had warned him not to respond when Hendrid asked him for his opinion of their "endeavor." She also would have expected herself to take some pleasure in seeing his ears pinned back by her father. But she couldn't bring herself to feel anything but sorry for him. She'd been on the receiving end of her father's upbraidings enough times to know how he felt.
Eventually she turned and walked back to where her company slept. She'd return her father's cloak in the morning.
Chapter 4
Grinsa jal Arriet had never imagined that he would return in disgrace to the sept of E'Menua, the Fal'Borna a'laq who had made him and his family captives of the Qirsi clan. He and the men with whom he had journeyed-two Eandi merchants and Q'Daer, a young Fal'Borna Weaver of the sept-had been sent to find a Mettai witch and defeat the curse she had created, which was spreading across the land, killing Qirsi and destroying their villages. Upon completing these tasks, Grinsa, his wife, Cresenne ja Terba, and their young daughter, Bryntelle, would be free to leave. And the Eandi merchants, Jasha Ziffel and Torgan Plye, who had been condemned to die for having sold cursed Mettai baskets to the Fal'Borna, would be spared and released.
Grinsa was a Weaver himself, a Qirsi who wielded all varieties of magic, and who could bind the magic of many Qirsi into a single powerful weapon. Against great odds, he had survived a war in the Forelands, where he'd spent most of his life, and had defeated a renegade Weaver who sought to conquer the Eandi realms of that land. He had saved the life of an Eandi noble falsely accused of murder. He was not at all accustomed to failure.
But he and the rest of his company had failed miserably in this undertaking. Yes, the witch, a woman named Lici, had been killed, but not by them. Rather, it had been her own Mettai companions, Besh and Sirj, who had defeated her. Besh had also found a way to overcome the woman's curse, only barely in time to save Grinsa's life and Q'Daer's. But Jasha was dead, killed by Torgan. And Torgan had escaped with a scrap of cursed Mettai basket that might still be used to sicken unsuspecting Qirsi.
At this point, Grinsa had little hope that E'Menua would allow him and his family to go free, particularly now that war had come to the plain.
He and the others-Q'Daer, Besh, and Sirj-were still several leagues from the sept, and they were making poor progress southward. Grinsa remained weak from the plague that had nearly killed him. Q'Daer had been sicker than he, and was still suffering as well. And Besh, though spry for his age, was old to be braving the cold winds of the late Harvest.