Tirnya could hardly blame him. She had lost two men in a skirmish with road brigands and it had taken every bit of her courage and composure to face the parents of one of them. Jenoe had lost hundreds of men the last time they faced the Fal'Borna, and they had yet to encounter a white-hair force as large as their own army. She could hardly imagine the burden he carried.
She knew only that with each day that passed her father seemed more like a stranger to her, and that she herself was to blame. Her idea, her fault.
"You look troubled."
She looked up from the fire. Gries had come to sit beside her. Several of the other captains had left them, probably to go sleep. Enly sat opposite her, speaking in low tones with Stri and one of the captains from Waterstone.
"I'm all right," she said, smiling weakly.
"I see." Clearly Gries didn't believe her.
She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and exhaled heavily. "It's the merchant," she told him. "I wish my father had sent him away."
"You must have known that he wouldn't."
Tirnya shrugged.
"If what he's saying about that basket he carries is true, he's offering us a powerful weapon. More powerful even than the wolves and eagles of the Mettai."
"So you think we should use it," she said, her voice flat.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Enly was watching them, but she tried to ignore him.
"I don't want to," he said. "I sense that you don't, either. But we can't simply refuse. We don't know yet what's waiting for us at the Horn. We don't even know what we'll have to face at the next sept. We have to consider every possible weapon we have at our disposal."
"Not this one," she said without thinking.
"Is using the plague that different from what we've already done?"
"It is if we can't keep it from killing children."
"I don't think it kills children," Gries said. "Remember the first sept we found. Most of the adults had died-the survivors were mostly children who hadn't yet come into their power."
"Yes," Tirnya said, turning to face him. "Nearly all the survivors were children, but not all the children survived. They did at the second sept, because we made sure of it."
He offered a small shrug, as if conceding the point.
"You think I'm being soft," she said, straightening. "You think that I argue this way because I'm a woman."
Cries actually laughed. "You're putting words in my mouth."
Tirnya blushed, and was thankful for the darkness. "I'm sorry. I do that sometimes. My father hates it."
"No need to apologize. And I don't think you're being soft."
She looked at him doubtfully.
He laughed again. She liked the way he laughed. It was full-throated without being too loud, and it sounded genuine, unforced.
"All right," he said. "I don't think you're being soft because you're a woman. Different people respond to these things in different ways." He grinned. "How's that?"
"Better," she said, smiling in turn.
She glanced across the fire again. Enly and Stri were gone, as were most of the others.
"It's getting late," Tirnya said, starting to stand.
Suddenly he was holding her hand, his grip gentle but insistent. His fingers felt warm and slightly rough, though in a comforting sort of way.
"It's not that late," he said quietly.
She slowly sat back down.
"What will you do if you win this war, Tirnya?" he asked, holding her gaze.
She swallowed. "My father and I will have a great deal to do. We intend to make this plain an Eandi stronghold again. We want to return Deraqor and Silvralna to the glory of their early history. That will take work. It'll take years."
"It sounds like a hard life," Gries said. "Lonely as well."
"It might be," she said, trying to sound sure of herself. He was still holding her hand and she found herself staring at their fingers. "But it's something that he and I have pledged ourselves to do, for our people and for their children."
Actually, Tirnya wasn't quite sure where all this was coming from. She and her father had said little about what would come after the war. Prior to leaving Qalsyn, all of their planning had been for the march into Fal'Borna land and the battles that would ensue. Her father remained utterly focused on their next encounter with the Qirsi. She wasn't sure he had given any thought to what would happen once they recaptured the Horn. They hadn't really talked about the lives they would lead there.
"And is there no room in that future for anything more?" the Fairlea captain asked.
Abruptly Tirnya was trembling and she didn't know why. "I… I'm not sure. That's such a long way off."
He inclined his head slightly. "I suppose it is." He reached forward with his free hand and touched her chin gently, forcing her to meet his gaze again. "But I'd ask you to consider whether you don't deserve to be happy as well. You say that you do this for your people and their children. What about you, Tirnya? What about your children?"
She couldn't speak. She merely gazed back at him, scared by what he was saying, unwilling to get up and walk away.
After a moment, Gries leaned forward ever so slowly, his face drawing near to hers. She leaned away just a bit and he hesitated. But she didn't say anything to stop him, and her gaze kept flicking from his dark eyes to his lips. He leaned forward again and brushed her lips with his own. Once, then again.
Tirnya closed her eyes, her lips parted, her pulse racing like a river in flood.
He kissed her. No brushing of lips this time, but a full kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft and he caressed her cheek with a finger.
After a moment, Tirnya pulled away.
"This is a bad idea," she whispered, her eyes still closed, her chest rising and falling with each breath.
"You think so?" he whispered back. He brushed his lips against her cheek. "I thought it was rather brilliant myself."
She giggled, but her hands were shaking and she felt cold.
"I can't do this now, Gries. Maybe… I don't know. There may come a time. But not now, not in the middle of this war."
He kissed her again, and she let him.
"You're sure?" he asked in a husky voice.
"No," she said.
He leaned back, smiling. "I didn't expect that."
She felt her cheeks coloring again. "Neither did I, actually."
"So…?"
"I need some time to think," she said. "I don't…" She trailed off, shaking her head, unsure of what she intended to say.
He held a finger to her lips. "I think I understand." He leaned forward again and kissed her brow. Then he stood. "Good night, Captain Onjaef." She smiled.
"Good night, Captain Ballidyne."
Tirnya watched him walk away and took a long, deep breath. After a moment she glanced around, half expecting to see that Enly was watching her. He wasn't.
But the merchant was, his one good eye glinting in the firelight. Tirnya shuddered.
Chapter 17
He slept terribly, awakened again and again by imagined noises or chased from his slumber by dark visions. At one point he dreamed that he and his men were surrounded by hordes of Qirsi, all of them carrying brightly colored flames in their hands, all of them singing battle songs and laughing at the pitifully small army he commanded.
Awakening from that dream, Enly promptly fell asleep again and stepped into a new one. This time he saw only Tirnya and Gries. They were lying together on the plain, naked, their bodies entwined. At first they were oblivious to him, concerned only with the rhythm of their movements. But as Gries's thrusts grew ever more urgent, Tirnya looked over at Enly and laughed.
This time when Enly awoke it was to a damp, grey dawn, and he was in as foul a mood as he could remember.
He'd walked away from the fire early enough the previous night that he hadn't actually seen Gries and Tirnya go off together to the captain's sleeping roll or to hers. But after his conversation the day before with Fairlea's lord heir, after watching them exchange glances throughout the evening, and seeing them sitting side by side speaking in lowered voices, Enly had little doubt that the two had spent the night together.