Chapter 16
She really is quite beautiful. I can understand why you can't take your eyes off of her."
Enly looked sharply at Gries, who was watching him, a faintly mocking smile on his handsome face. Enly hadn't fully realized that he was staring at Tirnya until the captain spoke, but now he felt his face reddening.
He didn't answer, and after a moment he faced forward, making an effort not to look at her or at Gries.
They were riding west again. Their forward scouts scanned the horizon for the next Fal'Borna settlement, while their rearguard watched for an assault from the east. The sky was leaden, and Enly could see rain falling in the distance to the north. But the wind blew from the south, warmer than usual and heavy with the scent of storms.
"Is she as taken with you as you are with her?"
"Of course she is," Enly said drily. "Haven't you noticed how she dotes on me?"
Gries laughed. "Good for you, Enly. I've always thought that there was more to you than that serious, spoiled lord heir who seemed so intent on beating me in the ring."
Enly glanced at the man. "Is that right?"
"You and I could be great friends, you know. It won't be too long before we lead our cities." He looked around, as if to be sure that no one else could hear. "Neither of us will ever be sovereign, of course," he continued, dropping his voice. "But Ankyr is weak, not to mention a fool. House Ballidyne and House Tolm could be the most powerful of allies. Together we could present a united northern front to the Kasathas. We could make Stelpana the supreme sovereignty in the land."
"Our fathers might still have a bit to say about that," Enly said.
"Yes, of course," Gries said with impatience. "You get my point, though, don't you? It might not happen today or tomorrow. But the day is coming when we will rule this land in fact, if not in name. Think of all we could accomplish working together!"
Enly had to laugh. "It's an interesting idea, Gries, but I think you're forgetting something. You and I don't like each other. We never have."
"Nonsense!" Fairlea's lord heir said, waving off the suggestion. "We didn't like each other before because we were too young to know better. You were spoiled and arrogant and I was even worse. But we're men now. We're captains, we're statesmen. We understand the world."
Enly laughed again. Understand the world? He didn't even understand Tirnya. He was barely capable of speaking in civil tones to his own father. And Gries was ready to join him in ruling the world.
"What's so funny?" Gries asked, sounding irked by Enly's laughter.
"It's nothing. What is it you want from me, Gries?"
The man shrugged. "Who says I want anything? We're riding to war on this desolate plain. We're comrades in a great struggle. Isn't that enough for now?"
Enly wasn't sure what the man was up to. Maybe this was nothing more than idle thoughts born of boredom and a long ride and a grey sky.
"Yes, all right," he said. "That's enough."
"Splendid!" Gries said.
They rode in silence for a short while. Then Gries turned to him again. "So if she doesn't dote on you, as you say, why do you persist in pursuing her?"
This was not a discussion Enly cared to have with anyone, Gries least of all. "Who says I'm pursuing her?"
Gries merely stared at him, his eyebrows up.
"Tirnya and I have known each other for a long time-since we were children. Any chance there was that we might be anything more than fellow soldiers in the Qalsyn army vanished years ago."
"Really?" Gries said. "Then perhaps you wouldn't mind if I were to court her."
"You?" Enly knew he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd seen the two of them together on a number of occasions, and though he didn't care to believe that Tirnya had any interest in Fairlea's lord heir, he wasn't at all surprised to learn that Gries was attracted to her.
"Why not?" Gries said. "She's beautiful, she's smart. And as I've said, I'd like to forge a bond between Fairlea and Qalsyn. What better way than for my city's lord heir to wed the daughter of Qalsyn's most renowned soldier?"
"Of course," Enly said, resisting a sudden urge to pull his sword free and hack off the man's head. "You might find, though, that she's not really the marrying kind. She cares more for swords and battles than for more… wifely things."
Gries smiled in a way that made Enly's sword hand itch. "Leave that to me," the Fairlea captain said. "I've thawed colder hearts than hers, albeit for a night rather than for a lifetime. But still, I think I can coax the sword from her hand."
"Well, good luck to you, then," Enly said, spurring his mount ahead of the man.
Gries caught up with him almost immediately. "Enly?" He leaned forward so he could look Enly in the eye. "You're sure you're all right with this?"
"Absolutely," Enly told him, a brittle smile on his lips. "As I say, I wish you all good fortune in your… pursuit."
He rode ahead once more, and this time Gries let him go.
Enly hadn't been riding on his own for more than a few moments, however, when he heard a shout go up from the army's right flank. Fearing that they were under attack, he wheeled his horse sharply and pulled his blade free. What he saw stopped him cold.
A lone horseman, flanked on either side by Qalsyn scouts, was riding toward the army. The man had an arm raised in greeting, and a broad smile on his homely face. He was a large man, both tall and heavy, and he was Eandi. He wore travel-stained clothes and a torn blanket around his shoulders. A black patch covered his left eye, giving him the look of a brigand.
Gries had halted his mount beside Enly. He, too, had his sword drawn, but his blade arm had dropped to his side.
"What is he doing here?" he whispered.
"You know him?" Enly asked.
Gries looked at him. "Of course. Don't you?"
Enly shook his head.
"That's Torgan Plye."
Enly stared at the stranger again. "The merchant? You're sure?"
"Absolutely. I've spent enough gold on his wares over the years. I'd know him anywhere."
Jenoe and Tirnya rode out to meet the man, and after a moment's hesitation, Gries joined them. Enly followed.
"I'd heard there was an Eandi army marching on the plain," Torgan called to them, beaming. "I never would have guessed that it would be so grand and impressive a force. I take it you're their commander," he said to Jenoe.
"That's right. Jenoe Onjaef, marshal of-"
"The Qalsyn army," the man broke in. "Of course. I should have recognized the uniforms. Your name is known throughout the land, Marshal."
"And you are, sir?" Tirnya's father asked, still sounding wary.
"Torgan Plye. I once was a merchant of some renown. More recently I've been a prisoner of the Fal'Borna."
"What?" the marshal said, his blue eyes widening.
"I was taken hostage by the Fal'Borna after I sold baskets to a sept near the Companion Lakes. The baskets were cursed with a plague that killed the white-hairs and destroyed their village. They thought I was to blame and they threatened to kill me. They took another merchant hostage as well. A younger man; a friend of mine. I managed to escape with my life. He didn't."
Jenoe was gaping at the man. "You're telling me that this plague was… was caused by magic?"
"Yes. A Mettai spell."
"Impossible!"
Everyone turned toward Fayonne, who stood a short distance off, her face pale, her white hair shifting in the wind. Her fists were clenched, her back rigid.
"There are no Mettai who would conjure such an illness!" she said.
"Forgive me, good woman," Torgan said, his tone less courteous than his words. "But it's the truth. I saw the Mettai woman who sold the baskets, and I saw what these baskets did. I even met two Mettai men who came from her village, and who claimed to have killed her in order to keep her from spreading her plague."
"Where are these men now?" Jenoe asked.
"I don't know, Marshal. Last I knew, they had been taken by the Fal'Borna as well. I assume they're dead."