Keles looked up at her and smiled. He had no doubt she was right about the ministers. She’s strong-willed enough to be a match for my grandfather!

“You know, if we try to escape and fail, they will kill us.”

She nodded. “There is no guarantee they won’t kill us at any time my husband desires, or his Mother of Shadows decides we have outlived our usefulness.” Jasai ran a hand over her stomach. “My child will be born in the month of the Rat. After that, my life is worthless.”

Keles grinned ruefully. “I don’t think I’ve got even that long.”

“And our chances to escape end even sooner. Once I begin to show, my ability to escape dwindles.”

“I know, but I’ve been thinking.” He tapped his plans of the city. “The Black River will flood sometime in the next six weeks. We make it out of here by then, or we’re never getting away.”

21st day, Month of the Dragon, Year of the Rat

10th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th year since the Cataclysm

The Plains before Moryne

(Helosunde) Deseirion

Clad in black armor, with a golden hawk emblazoned on his breastplate, standing on a hill and flanked by two banners that proclaimed his presence, Prince Pyrust watched the battle unfold on the plains below. To the southwest, far in the distance, he could see the grey smudge that marked Moryne-the city that had once been Helosunde’s capital. The cream of Helosundian martial glory-save those troops in service to the Naleni throne-had arrayed themselves in a formation across his line of march and advanced.

Their intent, it seemed, was to drive his line’s center backward until they could overrun his hill, taking him, his banners, and freeing themselves from the Desei yoke forever. He had no doubt many of them dreamed of pushing further, taking Felarati and making Deseirion their plaything. If he lost this battle, he would die. His country would die and his people would suffer.

And that cannot be allowed to happen.

A casual glance at the battlefield, however, would have suggested that that was exactly what would happen. Until four days previous, his Fire Hawk battalion had been the garrison in Moryne. Following his orders, they gathered up all the grain they could find transport for and began a retreat toward Meleswin. Helosundian rebels, having long since learned of the horrible harvest in Deseirion, accepted the rumors that food riots were the reason for recalling the troops and bringing their rice north. They decided they could strike a fierce blow against their conqueror by attacking the Fire Hawks and preventing the rice from leaving Helosunde.

Pyrust had expected a lot of opposition, but the number of troops arrayed against him had surprised him. He’d been able to move two entire regiments southwest from Meleswin-including the Fire Hawks, though he kept the Iron Hawks and Silver Hawks in reserve behind the hill. For all intents and purposes it looked as if he had just under a thousand troops at his command.

The rebels had amassed a force roughly three times that size. Pyrust recognized a number of banners in the rabble-primarily because the originals were displayed in Felarati. The reconstituted units might have laid claim to Helosundian tradition, but many of the soldiers had clearly come to battle with little training and weaponry more suited to agriculture than warfare. One whole battalion held in reserve appeared to be unarmed, but by the time they came to the fight, there would be ample arms to be recovered from the battlefield.

He had no idea who commanded the enemy force, and the absence of a clear command post buoyed his spirits. It appeared as if the Helosundians had been roughly divided into three parts-right, left, and center-each under its own commander. The center, which was set to engage his best troops, had more of the seasoned warriors. Despite their inexperience, the wings could easily encircle his force and, once it had done that, turn his flanks and win the day.

He shook his head. He hoped it was one of the Council of Ministers that sought to fight the battle against him. Bureaucrats repeatedly governed their actions in accord with Urmyr’s Books of Wisdom, but they seemed to have forgotten he’d once been a general for Emperor Taichun. He’d written another treatise based on his experiences on the battlefield titled The Dance of War, and Pyrust found his teachings of great comfort.

A battle is won before the first arrow flies or the first sword cuts.

The Helosundians had come northeast expecting to ambush one battalion, so when morning dawned and they discovered that the Desei were not moving on, but had drawn up in a battle line and had been reinforced, they scrambled to prepare for battle. In their hasty pursuit, they had not brought much with them by way of provisions, thinking they would soon liberate the rice and feast. The Fire Hawks had always pushed on faster than the Helosundians, forcing them to march longer than they had any desire to do. As a result, they came to the battle tired and hungry.

His troops, on the other hand, were for the most part rested, well fed, and well trained. He did not doubt that each of them felt fear when they looked at the mob surging toward them. There would be jokes, about how each only had to kill three of the dogs and he could retire for the day, but each knew these Helosundian Dogs would take a fair amount of killing.

He’d arrayed his troops with the Golden Hawks to the fore. The Mountain Hawks and Fire Hawks were positioned to the right and left respectively, drawn back, with their flanks overlapping the Golden Hawk rear. The Shadow Hawks were right behind the Golden Hawks.

Pyrust snapped open a black fan with a large red ball emblazoned on it. He raised it above his head, flashing the symbol, then turned it edge on to the troops, and brought his hand straight down.

Commanders in the Shadow Hawks shouted orders. The Golden Hawks spread their rear ranks and the Shadow Hawks ran forward. They nocked arrows, drew, and loosed, rank after rank, into the Helosunde center. Each arrow found a mark, and while a few stuck in shields or skipped off armor, most sank to the fletching into flesh, and men fell screaming.

The Helosundian archers replied, but it was a whisper to what had been a shout. Some of his Hawks did fall when arrows found gaps in armor, but many of the Helosundian bows lacked the power they needed to penetrate armor. My men are not peahens to be stuck so easily.

The Shadow Hawks loosed another four volleys, thinning the ranks of the Helosundian center, then stopped and retreated. He didn’t know if the leaders on the other side understood the significance of five volleys, but five months hence it would be the month of the Dog, Helosunde’s month, and he had chosen to honor them that way.

Honor them before he slaughtered them.

Pyrust waited as his wounded and dead were evacuated. The other side closed ranks, squeezing the center. This he had expected, for what general would not do that? The Helosundian center had been its strength, but now it had become its weakness. The trained troops moved forward to fill in the front line, while the back ranks on the wings flowed toward the middle to take up the empty space.

Which moves them further from the battle than they want to be if they are to be effective.

He raised his fan again, displaying the red ball. He flipped it front and back, showing both sides, then brought it down to wave at the Helosundian lines. Orders were shouted below and the Shadow Hawks, in disarray, shifted behind the Fire Hawks on the right. The Golden Hawks moved forward, opening a gap between them and their supporting units. Their advance slowed as the Golden Hawks realized they had no support, then they began to retreat.