Rillor stood stony-faced, his mouth clamped shut.
"That's all right," Macurdy added. "No need to talk. I can understand that. But there's something else you should know. Vulkan tracked you. Tracked your horse to the livery stable, then tracked you to the boat dock. And said nothing about it when he got back. Otherwise you'd have been caught at Riverton for sure, and been tried for murder. Of a kitchen girl who drank the wine, and the policeman that lit the lamp.
"And if I'd died, Vulkan would have shoved one of those big tusks up your sorry ass and turned you inside out."
Macurdy didn't suppose that Vulkan would have done any such thing, but it sounded good. Meanwhile his face had lost none of its mildness. "You still don't admit you were lucky. I can read it in your aura. But think about it. And think about how easily Idri sent you into a situation where, if you'd been caught, they'd have hung you. I suppose she's a good screw, but she's not worth it."
He paused. "Anything you want to say?"
Rillor's expression didn't change.
"Well then, better luck with the rest of your life."
Macurdy turned and left. The man hadn't learned a damn thing, he told himself. He still thought he was a victim.
From Miskmehr, Macurdy and Vulkan crossed the Great Muddy River into Oz, where they spent two weeks including travel time. Macurdy talked with the chief and his council, and watched the Heroes demonstrate their fighting and riding skills. God but they're good! he told himself. Better than the Kormehri! He wished there were more of them.
The Heroes were at least as delighted with Vulkan as with Macurdy. And Vulkan, of course, added to Macurdy's already considerable legend there.
They also went to Wolf Springs, Macurdy riding a warhorse borrowed from the Heroes, to give Vulkan a vacation. There they spent two evenings with Arbel and Kerin. On the Six-Day in between, they watched the local militia train on horseback. The chief had heeded his earlier urging, and the militias were preparing to fight as both cavalry and mounted infantry. He galloped with them on a wild, headlong race through forest, riding almost as recklessly as Heroes. Their fighting skills wouldn't match the Heroes', but they were good, and had a lot of the same attitude.
Back at Oztown, the chief told Macurdy to keep the warhorse, then asked what the empires would pay for troops. So far from the war, and having little commerce with the east, he wasn't interested in simply a share in hypothetical spoils. He wanted a guaranteed minimum. Acting as agent for the West Ylvin government, Macurdy retained three companies of Heroes-the active company and two of reservists-along with a cohort of Ozian militia. He stressed that winters in the empire were much colder than in Oz. They'd need heavy woolens and sheepskin coats.
The Heroes were to leave for the Teklan military reservation in ten days. The militia would follow as soon as they could muster with suitable gear, supplies, and packhorses. They'd be assembled from ten different districts, sixty men from each. Their commanders would be appointed by the chief, from Heroes who'd completed their service. They'd get to know each other on the road. That had worked passably during Quaie's War; it ought to for this one.
Free passage had already been arranged through Miskmehr and Tekalos. Kings Norkoth and Wollerda expected the Ozians. They were to arrange for supplies.
The Ozians were to behave themselves in transit. With Ozmen one could only hope, but Macurdy left a firm policy with them: thieves, rapists and murderers were to be summarily executed.
Riding eastward beside Vulkan, Macurdy considered the sort of army he was assembling: a lot of small forces that would operate as individual companies, or pairs of companies. Operate independently. Where coordination was needed, they'd have to work it out for themselves, through the great ravens. But guerrillas had operated effectively in similar circumstances during World War II. Often not smoothly, but effectively.
Provisions were a more worrisome uncertainty. Behind voitik lines they'd depend on captured supplies. He had no idea how that would go. They'd have to wait and see.
He hated to think what might happen if he'd misjudged voitik sorcery. If the monsters had human-level intelligence, this could turn into a catastrophe.
Or if Kurqosz had major sorceries of sorts he hadn't shown before. Now that was a worrisome thought.
Jeremid was at Wollerda's palace when Macurdy arrived. The three of them reviewed together the Teklan forces to be sent. The Royal Cavalry Cohort had been reequipped as light, instead of heavy, cavalry. The chief remaining question was how to insert them behind voitik lines.
Macurdy rode north into the Kullvordi Hills to watch the Royal Cavalry train with the Kullvordi 2nd. Companies took turns being escorts and raiders and road patrols, chasing and fleeing pell-mell down roads and through forest, replete with ambushes. They looked damned good, in make-believe.
The next day, through Blue Wing, Macurdy described the training to every kingdom he'd stopped at.
When saying good-bye, Jeremid told him "don't pass through Asrik without stopping to see the king." He refused to elaborate. Simply grinned.
En route from Teklapori to the Cloister, Macurdy would have stopped at Asrik's royal residence anyway. To his surprise, Wofnemst Birgar received him with something like enthusiasm. Finn Greatsword had invited the wofnemst into the Mountain, and there laid out for him the dangers of the voitik invasion. He'd urged him to contribute troops, and after taking it up with the People's Council, Birgar had agreed. General Jeremid, during his visit, had suggested he send two companies of scouts: mountain men, fur hunters who could travel quietly and quickly, and had an instinct for finding their way. They would, Jeremid had said, be good for reconnaissance and as guides.
Acting in character, Birgar agreed to send one company instead of two. He already had a great raven staying in the hayloft of the royal stable. The dwarf king had arranged it.
Macurdy left wondering what leverage Greatsword had applied to the Asriki. Or had he simply convinced them of the danger? He asked Blue Wing what he thought.
The bird focused his attention, scanning. "I find no definite answer in the hive mind," he replied. "Until these last few weeks, we had rather little political information. However, the Silver Mountain dwarves are rich and powerful neighbors to the Asriki. And a few hundred years ago, according to a tomttu storyteller, Indrossa coveted the Granite Range for silver deposits believed to exist there.
"We generally treat information from tomttur as gossip. But you are well aware, I know, of their invisiility spell, which is adequate for most situations. Along with their native curiosity, it results in eavesdropping from time to time.
"So one might speculate that the dwarves, preferring a stable and acquiescent Asrik as a neighbor, discouraged an Indrossan takeover. And if all that gossip and speculation is correct, Finn Greatsword may have chosen this time to call in an old favor."
Macurdy was impressed with Blue Wing's reasoning. He wouldn't be surprised if it was a lot like the truth.
Weeks earlier, via the ravens, Macurdy had messaged Amnevi that he wanted to train and lead the Tigers as raiders behind voitik lines. Amnevi had messaged him back that Sarkia had approved. He'd assumed that Idri would block the move, but hadn't heard anything back on it.