"You speak well," she said, falling back into Forthwegian. "Not quickly, as you would your birthspeech, but well."

Ealstan appreciated the praise all the more because she measured it so carefully. "Thank you," he said. Then he remembered the Algarvian soldier taking obscene liberties with the Kaunian woman in the rubble clearing gang back in Gromheort. It suddenly occurred to him, almost with the force of getting spellstruck, that being a pretty girl could carry disadvantages. He picked his words with care, too: "I hope they haven't insulted you."

Vanai needed only a moment to understand what he meant. "Nothing too bad," she said. "Shouts, jeers, leers - nothing I haven't known from Forthwegians." She turned red; with her fair skin, the blush was easy to see. "I don't mean you. You've been perfectly polite."

"Kaunians are people, too," Ealstan said, repeating a phrase his father was fond of using. Ealstan sometimes wondered if that was why his father used it. Kaunians had dwelt in Forthweg since the days of their ancient Empire, even if Forthwegians greatly outnumbered them these days. His own distant ancestors had known nothing of stone keeps and theaters and aqueducts when they entered this country. He wondered if one of the reasons they despised Kaunians was that, somewhere down deep, Kaunians made them wonder if they were people themselves.

"Well, of course," Vanai said. But it wasn't of course, and they both knew it. A lot of Forthweglans didn't think of Kaunians as people, and a lot of

Kaunians returned the favor. Vanai changed the subject: "Your brother, you said, is a captive? That must be hard for your family. Is he well?"

"He says he is well," Ealstan replied. "The Algarvians only let their captives write once a month, so we've not heard much. But he is alive, powers above be praised." He didn't know what he would have done had he learned Leofsig was dead.

He was about to add something more when, from not far away, a [.in.] called out in Kaunian: "Where are you, Vanai? Look! I've found a Whatever he'd found, it wasn't a word Ealstan knew. Ealstan wonders if he'd found trouble himself. Was that Vanai's father? Her brother ..]."

Maybe even her husband? He didn't think she was old enough to we, but he might have been wrong, disastrously wrong.

Then Vanai answered, "Here I am, my grandfather," and Ealstan worry eased: a grandfather seemed unlikely to be dangerous. Nor did [.ti.] man who came up a minute later look dangerous. He carried a fat puff ball in his left hand; puffiall, no doubt, was the Kaunian word Ealsta hadn't understood. In Kaunian, Vanai said, "My grandfather, this Ealstan of Jekabpils" - the classical name for Gromheort. "We have traded mushrooms." She shifted to Forthwegian: "Ealstan, here is in grandfather, Brivibas."

Brivibas looked at Ealstan as if he were a stinkhorn or a poisoned leopard mushroom. "I hope he has not troubled you," he said to Van, in Kaunian. He was, Ealstan saw at a glance, one of those Kaunians who automatically thought the worst of Forthwegians.

"I have not troubled her," Ealstan said in the best Kaunian he had.

It was not good enough; Brivibas corrected his pronunciation. Vannai looked mortified. Making a point of speaking Forthwegian, she said, "He has not troubled me at all. He speaks well of our people."

Her grandfather looked Ealstan up and down, then looked her up an( down, too. "He has his reasons," Brivibas said. "Come along with me. We must wend homeward."

"I will come," Vanai said obediently. But then she turned back.

"Goodbye, Ealstan. The talk was pleasant, and the trade was good."

"I also thought so," Ealstan said in Kauman. "I am glad I met you - and you, sir," he added for Brivibas's benefit. That last was a he, but on( of the sort his father called a useful lie: it would show up the olden Kaunian's rudeness. Vanai would see it. Even Brivibas might.

He didn't. He stomped off toward the west, toward Oyngestun. Vanai followed. Ealstan watched tin trees hid her from sight. Then he started back in the direction of Gromheort. He laughed to himself The day had ended up a lot more interesting than it would have been had he spent it hunting mushrooms with Sidroc.

"Well, this is more like it," Talsu said to whomever would listen as the Jelgavan forces pushed through the eastern foothills of the Bratanu mountains. Before long, he thought, he and his comrades really would get past the foothills and down into the plains of southern Algarve. If things kept going well, they'd be able to start tossing eggs into Tricanico.

He wished the Forthwegians had put up a better fight against the red heads. Then their army would have Joined the one of which he was a tiny part and cut Algarve in half. That had been the plan - well, the hope - when Jelgava went to war. Now King Donalitu and his allies would have to' settle for less.

Smilsu banged Talsu in the ribs with his elbow. "Which do you mean is more like it? Having a colonel who knows what he's doing or moving forward instead of standing around all the time?"

"You don't think there's a connection?" Talsu returned.

"I'm not the one to ask," his friend said. "Why don't you find out what Vartu over there thinks about it?"

"I'm still here," Vartu said, grinning a leathery grin. After Colonel Dzirnavu's untimely and embarrassing demise, his servant might have gone back to the family estate to tend to the needs of Dzirnavu's heir.

He'd chosen to stay on as a common soldier instead. What that said about the character of Dzirnavu's son was a point on which Talsu preferred not to dwell: how unfortunate that the new count should take after the old.

Vartu went on, "There's one of the reasons I'm still here, too." He pointed to one side with his chin.

"Come on, men, keep moving," Colonel Adomu called cheerily. He was a marquis himself, but wore the title more lightly than most Jelgavan nobles. He was Just in his early forties, and not only kept up with the soldiers in his regiment but urged them to a better clip. "Keep moving - and spread out. We don't want the cursed redheads to hit us when we're all bunched together."

Even marching in loose order, Talsu was nervous. The Algarvians had harvested these fields before their soldiers retreated through them, and the low stubble left behind offered little concealment for a prone man, let alone one up and walking. Algarvian civilians had fled along with the soldiers, and taken their livestock with them. But for the sound of boots crunching through dry grass and stubble and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze, the day was eerily quiet.

Colonel Adomu pointed to a pear orchard half a mile away. "That's where they'll be waiting for us, the sons of a thousand fathers. We'll have to see if we can find a way to flank them out - going straight at them win be too expensive."

Talsu dug a finger in his ear to make sure he'd heard right. Dzirnavu would have sent his men lumbering straight at the redheads. They'd have paid for alll of it, too, but that wouldn't have bothered Dzirnavu. Well, now he'd paid for it himself

Adomu sent the company to which Talsu belonged off to the right, to find a way around the pear orchard. "Come on, step it up," Talsu called to Smilsu as they trotted along. "The faster we move, the harder we are to hit."

"We're hard to hit anyway, at this range," Smilsu answered. "You have to be lucky to blaze a man with a footsoldier's stick out past a couple-three furlongs. You have to be even luckier to hurt him very bad if you do hit him."

As if to make him out a liar, one of his comrades fell, clutching at his leg and cursing. But most of the Algarvians' beams went wide or had dispersed too widely to be damaging. A couple of them started fires in the grass. That made Talsu want to cheer: Smoke weakened beams, too.

But then, with a roar and a blast of fire, an egg bunied in the ground burst under a Jelgavan soldier. He had time for only the beginning of a shriek before the energies consumed him. The rest of the Jelgavans skidded to a halt. Talsu dug in his heels and stood panting where he was.