"I don' think anyone in Qalsyn thinks of ya or th' marshal tha' way," he said.
Her first thought was that Maisaak certainly did. She kept this to herself, though, saying instead, "I appreciate that. But in a way it doesn't matter how others think of us. This is how we think of ourselves. The loss of Deraqor is a stain on our family's past, and now we have an opportunity to win it back, for ourselves, for Stelpana, for all the sovereignties. My feelings about Qalsyn are beside the point. This is about redeeming my ancestors and also about giving something wondrous to my children and my grandchildren."
Oliban appeared to consider this for some time. "From all tha' I've heard," he finally said, "Deraqor was a glorious city."
Tirnya smiled. "I've heard that, too. I can't wait to see it." She started walking back toward the soldiers and the other riders. "Come on," she said, gesturing for him to walk with her. "We have work to do."
He followed, though reluctantly, his eyes still fixed on the ground, his brow creased in thought. "If ya succeed," he said after a few moments, his voice lower now, as they approached the men, "will ya expect all o' us t' stay with ya in Deraqor?"
Tirnya stopped, taken aback by the question. Her distress must have shown on her face.
"Don' get me wrong, Captain. Servin' under ya has been an honor, and I'll do all I can t' help ya win back those Onjaef lands. But then…" He shrugged, looking embarrassed. "As I told ya before. Qalsyn's th' only home I've ever known. I wouldn' want t' leave it forever."
"No, of course you wouldn't," Tirnya said, finding her voice again. "That's a long way off still, but I'm sure we'll work out something." She tried to smile. "If this works, His Lordship will need new captains. I can't think of anyone better suited to taking my place than you."
Oliban smiled at that. "Thank ya, Captain."
She nodded, then turned and walked on.
Tirnya and her soldiers spent the rest of the morning training. After the ringing of the midday bells, they resumed their patrols along the lanes outside the city walls. With her company's victory over the brigands, the attacks on merchants and travelers had fallen off greatly, but even in the best of times, road thieves remained a problem. On this day, her soldiers captured three men they spotted loitering along one of the side paths and then chased into the forest. There wouldn't he any reward this time, but as they returned to the city her men were in high spirits anyway. They were gaining a reputation as the best company in Qalsyn; this day's success would only enhance their status.
Tirnya tried to share in their good humor all the way back, but she was preoccupied with her conversation with the lead riders, and, she had to admit, her exchange with Enly as well. All of her men had seemed overawed by what she told them, though just as Enly had expected, not one of them expressed any reluctance to follow her. In a way, though, their faith in her and Enly's doubts led her to the same place: She needed to think of something-anything-that would work against the white-hairs. She had no intention of failing in this and giving Enly the chance to gloat. But more to the point, she refused to throw away the lives of the brave men under her command, the men who had saved her life and who would march into Fal'Borna lands risking their lives, simply because she and her father asked it of them.
Enly might well be right: His Lordship probably was expecting them to fail. Tirnya's own father had questioned the wisdom of taking on the Fal'Borna just as had Enly. Why were they all so afraid?
Yes, the Fal'Borna had won most of the battles late in the Blood Wars. They had pushed the sovereignties back across the Thraedes and the Central Plain, and finally across the Silverwater. But in her long history Stelpana had also fought battles against the Aeleans and the Tordjannis, winning some and losing others. No one in Qalsyn was afraid of them.
It all came down to magic, then. Yes, the Fal'Borna were said to be fearsome warriors, but it was their magic that made them such a formidable enemy. Obviously.
So, how could an Eandi army overcome Qirsi magic and prevail in a war? Surely it had happened. The Blood Wars had gone badly for the sovereignties at the end, but for a time the Eandi clans had more than held their own against the white-hairs. What changed? What had happened to turn the tide of the war so strongly against her people?
The question occupied her mind for the rest of the day and into the night, when their patrols finally ended. Rather than heading directly back to her home, Tirnya went to the Swift Water for an ale.
She should have known better. Enly was there, and he sought her out immediately.
"I've come to apologize," he said, stopping just in front of her and swaying slightly. His breath stank of whiskey, and he spoke with too much precision, as if trying to avoid slurring his words.
As angry as she had been with him earlier, she couldn't help but be amused. "Apology accepted," she said. "Now go home and get some sleep."
But he shook his head and stepped up to the bar, blocking her way. "Another whiskey for me." He glanced back at her. "And an ale for the lovely captain."
The barkeep grinned, then winked at her. A moment later Enly had both drinks in hand and was leading her to a table at the back of the tavern.
"Come here and sit," he said, beckoning to her with the hand that still held her cup, and sloshing ale onto the table. He stared down at the stain for just an instant. "Sorry 'bout that."
She took the cup from him and sat. "Why don't you just sit, before you hurt yourself?"
"Good idea." He lowered himself into his seat, sipping his whiskey as he did. "Now then," he said. "How can I help?"
"What?"
"Well, obviously talking you out of this didn't work. So, if I want you to live and bear my children, I'll have to find some way to keep you alive, won't I?" He raised his cup to her, as if toasting, and then took another sip.
She laughed. "You arrogant bastard! I thought you were a horse's ass when you're sober, but give you a few whiskeys…" She shook her head.
He blinked, clearly surprised by her response. "What did I say?"
Tirnya laughed again. "Never mind," she said sipping her ale. "You don't really want to help. This is just another feeble attempt to get me to change my mind."
He put down his cup and smacked the table with his open hand, the sound echoing loudly through the tavern. He started at the noise, glancing around self-consciously. "Not true," he said a moment later. "Not true at all."
"So now you think it's a good idea?"
"No," he said, frowning. "It's a terrible idea. Worst I've ever heard. But like I said, you'll never listen to reason, particularly if it comes from me. So, I want to help. I don't want you to die, Tirnya." He looked away briefly and took a long breath. "Yes, I'm drunk," he said, facing her again. "But I really… I care about you. Surely you've figured that out by now. I don't want to lose you. But if you're going to leave me, I at least want to know that you're safe and living happily in your precious Deraqor."
"Shhh!" she said sharply.
He looked around again, nodded, and took a quick drink. "Right. Sorry."
Tirnya ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head once more. No one appeared to have noticed what he said. And, for all his tortured logic and drunken nonsense, he had managed to touch her heart just a bit. "Fine," she said. "You want to help me? You can help me."
He patted her arm. "There you go! Good girl. I knew you'd come around." He leaned closer. "How?" he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
"I haven't any idea."
Enly scowled at her and she laughed.