If I break my neck along with wrecking an army and losing a leg, I won’t be of much use to the kingdom or to myself, he thought after one such narrow escape. A man does need a few working parts.

The wing he commanded at Fat Mama was stationed farther north than any of the other soldiers in the Army of Franklin. Bell wondered whether Joseph the Gamecock had posted them there just to make him ride-and suffer-for an extra mile or two. He had no intention of asking Joseph, for the army commander was liable to tell him yes. They had enough trouble getting along without that.

Someone pounded on the door to the manor house. One of Major Zibeon’s assistants went to see who it was. He came back to Bell and reported: “A messenger from Count Joseph, sir.”

“I shall receive him, of course,” Bell said, wondering what Joseph the Gamecock wanted to bother him about now.

When the messenger came in, he almost tripped on the smooth, smooth marble floor, and had to flail his arms wildly for balance. Oddly, that made Bell feel better. If a whole man could come close to breaking his neck here, he had no reason to know shame for having trouble getting around.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, more warmth than usual in his voice.

“Count Joseph’s compliments, sir, and he requests the boon of your company just as fast as you can get to him,” the runner replied.

That meant travel, and travel meant more torment. Bell sipped from his little bottle of laudanum. “Why?” he asked, and warmth was only a memory.

“Sir, he says he is contemplating an attack, and desires your views along with those of his other wing commanders,” the messenger told him.

“Contemplating… an attack?” Bell said, as if the young man before him had suddenly started speaking a foreign language. “Joseph the Gamecock is contemplating an attack? My ears must be tricking me.” He dug a finger into one, as if to clear out whatever was blocking them.

All the runner said was, “Yes, sir. He is, sir. Truly.”

“I can hardly believe it,” Bell said. Curiosity was enough to outweigh pain, at least for the moment. “You may go back and tell him I shall attend him directly.” The runner saluted and left.

Bell went to the commanding general’s headquarters in a buggy, not on unicornback. It took him a little longer, but gave him time to think. He kept stroking his long, curly beard as the carriage bounced toward the home where Joseph the Gamecock had set up shop. What sort of ulterior motive did Joseph have for ordering an attack now, of all times? Is he trying to discredit me? Bell wondered. Has someone let him know about my letters to King Geoffrey? That could be sticky.

He had trouble getting very excited about it. Without the laudanum, he knew he would have been all in a swivet. Of course, without the laudanum, he would also have been in agony. As things were, he was merely in pain-and the drug laid a soft, muffling cloud over whatever else he might have felt.

When he got to Joseph’s headquarters, he discovered Leonidas the Priest and Roast-Beef William there ahead of him. They both towered over Joseph the Gamecock, who was gesturing animatedly as they talked outside. Bell descended from the buggy and hitched his way over to the other generals.

“Good day,” Joseph the Gamecock said with a courtly bow.

“Good day, sir,” Bell answered. “What is this I hear of attack? Do we still recall the word?”

“We do indeed,” Joseph said. “I have always said I would smite the stinking southrons if I saw the chance. Now I do believe they are giving it to us, and I intend to use it.”

“You had better tell me more, sir,” Bell said, blinking. “This is extremely surprising.” This is nothing like what I’ve told King Geoffrey in my letters, he thought. What will he do if he hears of the Army ofFranklin attacking? What will he do if he hears of it attacking successfully? Whatever it is, it will be nothing that works to my advantage.

“I shall be delighted, Lieutenant General,” Joseph the Gamecock said. “It appears that General Hesmucet is detaching some large part of his force for another move north around our flank. If we wait till that part has made its move, I think we can strike what’s left with some hope of victory.”

“Looks that way to me, too,” Roast-Beef William said.

“I am dubious about the whole proposition,” Leonidas the Priest declared. “I think it may be nothing but a trap, designed to lure us from our entrenchments so that the enemy may fall upon us.”

Bell could have kissed the older man. Now he wouldn’t be the only one speaking up against the whole idea. “I think Leonidas may have a point,” he said. “I’ve had no reports of the southrons’ moving north again come to my ears.”

“You can ride out to the front line and see for yourself,” Joseph the Gamecock said in some-more than some-exasperation. “Bell, you have been agitating for an attack ever since I took command of the Army of Franklin. How is it that, now that I propose one, you have not the stomach for it?”

“I want to attack with some hope of victory, sir,” Bell replied. I want to attack when it’s my idea, not yours. But he couldn’t say that to the general commanding.

The general commanding, by his sniff, had no trouble figuring it out regardless of whether Bell actually said it. “You have a certain amount of trouble with subordination, don’t you, Lieutenant General?”

“Duke Edward of Arlington never thought so, sir,” Bell said stiffly.

“Duke Edward of Arlington gives men more leeway than most officers are in the habit of doing,” Joseph retorted. “When I give you an order, I expect it to be obeyed. Have you got that?”

“Yes, sir,” Bell said, holding in his rage. “I have failed in no obedience.” And that was true, so far as the campaign itself went. Subordination, now, that was a different question-and Joseph the Gamecock didn’t know how different an answer it had.

“All right, then,” Joseph said. “I want all three of you to prepare your men for an attack tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Roast-Beef William said. He asked no questions. He did as he was told. Joseph the Gamecock would never complain about his subordination.

Leonidas the Priest turned sorrowful eyes on the general commanding. “I fear the Lion God does not smile on this enterprise,” the hierophant said. “The omens are not good. And without the gods’ backing, where are we?”

“On our own in the world,” Joseph the Gamecock said, fixing Leonidas with a glare like a flying crossbow quarrel. “I reverence the gods, holy sir-don’t get me wrong about that. But until I hear them speak in my own ears, I have to make my choices about what to do. I have, and I am.”

“May the Lion God not smite you for your arrogance, sir,” Leonidas said. “I shall pray for his forbearance.”

“Maybe we would do better to send out scouting forces come morning, to see if the southrons really did shift some large part of their host,” Bell said.

Joseph threw his hands in the air. “By all the gods, gentlemen, how can I hope to attack when two of my three wing commanders think I’d be making a mistake to do so? And then King Geoffrey will blame me for not being aggressive enough.”

You haven’t been aggressive enough, Bell thought. You may try to make up for it now, but you would have done better to strike at the southrons from the start.

“I am an obedient man, sir,” Leonidas the Priest said. “If you order me to send my soldiers forward, I shall do so, regardless of my own personal feelings as to the wisdom of the order.”

“No, no, no, no.” Joseph the Gamecock shook his head. “If we attack, we should put all our force, all our spirit, into it. Otherwise, we might as well not do it at all.” He swung his gaze back toward Bell. “Lieutenant General!”

“Yes, sir!” Bell said loudly.