A certain gloating anticipation suffused his voice. He doesn’t like Joseph the Gamecock, either, Bell realized. Nobody likes Joseph the Gamecock. King Geoffrey surely doesn’t. But then, nobody save King Geoffrey liked Count Thraxton, either.

“Yes, let’s.” Bell hitched his slow way out of the farmhouse. Thraxton held the door wide for him. “Thanks,” Bell said.

“My pleasure,” Thraxton replied, though his voice suggested that whatever he knew of pleasure came by hearsay.

“Major Zibeon!” Bell called. When his aide-de-camp appeared, he said, “Fetch my unicorn, if you’d be so kind. I have a call to pay on Joseph the Gamecock.”

Zibeon’s eyebrows rose. “Is it that kind of call, sir?”

“It is indeed that kind of call,” Bell answered jubilantly. “By the gods, Major, the southrons have seen the backs of the Army of Franklin for the last time.”

“Congratulations, sir,” his aide-de-camp said. “May everything turn out as well as we hope.”

“A worthy prayer,” Bell said. “May the gods hear it.”

Zibeon hurried away. He returned in short order with Bell’s unicorn. Even with laudanum coursing through Bell, mounting was a painful business. Having his aide-de-camp strap him to the beast so he could stay in the saddle was also a humiliation of sorts. But Count Thraxton said, “Your courage does you credit,” and Lieutenant General Bell felt better.

Dismounting from the unicorn in front of Joseph the Gamecock’s headquarters was harder than getting aboard had been, but Bell managed. Before he and Count Thraxton could go in, Count Joseph came out. He was half a head shorter than either of the men coming to call on him, but in such a transport of fury that he seemed to tower over them. “You son of a bitch. You son of a bitch bastard,” he snarled at Thraxton. “Gods damn you to the hells and gone, you’re here to take my job away, aren’t you?”

“Your Grace, King Geoffrey has authorized me to relieve you of command of the Army of Franklin,” Thraxton replied. “After discussing the matter with him at length, I am utilizing that authorization.”

“Who’s in command?” Joseph asked. “You? Gods help the kingdom if that’s so. You won one battle your whole stinking career, and you futtered that one away afterwards.”

Count Thraxton’s sallow face darkened with anger. “Your successor will be Lieutenant General Bell here.”

Joseph the Gamecock pointed a finger at Bell. “I know what you’re going to do. I know just what you’re going to do. You’re going to take this army and throw it right at the southrons.”

“It’s about time someone got some use out of it, wouldn’t you say?” Bell returned. “The men will enjoy going forward instead of back.”

“I know the other thing you’re going to do, too,” Joseph said. “You’re going to throw this army away. You can’t lick Hesmucet by slugging toe to toe with him. You haven’t got the men for it.”

“If I don’t come out and fight, Marthasville will fall,” Bell said. “The kingdom can’t have that. And the kingdom won’t have it, either. I can drive the southrons back, and I will do it.”

Thraxton the Braggart nodded approval. “This is the spirit on account of which King Geoffrey chose the brilliant Bell as your successor, your Grace,” he told Joseph.

“If he wants spirits, let him go to a tavern,” Joseph the Gamecock snapped.

“Shall I give you a formal written order to turn command of this army over to Lieutenant General Bell?” Thraxton asked.

“Don’t bother wasting the time. You’ve told me. I believe you,” Joseph said. “Gods help our kingdom-but if the gods were paying any attention to us, they wouldn’t have let that idiot of a Geoffrey put this idiot of a Bell in charge of what’s been a perfectly good army up till now.”

In spite of the laudanum coursing through him, Bell glared at Joseph. “Now see here, sir-”

“Oh, shut up,” Joseph told him. “You can’t help being an idiot. You’re a brave man, and you think that’s all there is to being a general. You make a first-rate brigade commander, because then someone with a working brain points you at the enemy and turns you loose. Of course you try to smash everything that’s right in front of you. But for maneuver and coordination and sniffing out what the foe intends?” He shook his head. “You haven’t a clue and you haven’t a prayer.”

“You are dismissed from this encampment, General,” Bell said through clenched teeth. “If I see you around my army after today, I will kill you on sight.”

Joseph the Gamecock bowed. “Always the man of simple-and simpleminded-solutions. You need not fear. Believe me, I want to stay around here no more than you want me in these parts. Do you suppose I want to stay close by while you take the army I built back up after Thraxton here ruined it and go out and wreck it again? I’m going up to Dicon, to wait and see if Geoffrey ever decides he needs to pull me off the shelf again.” He turned his back and strode into the farmhouse, slamming the door behind him.

“Graceless lout,” Count Thraxton muttered.

“He’s retreating again, that’s all.” Bell looked around at the great expanses of tents. “So this is my army now, is it?”

“It is indeed,” Thraxton replied. “If I may make a suggestion, your first order of business should be naming a wing commander to take your own place.”

Bell didn’t want anyone making suggestions now that the Army of Franklin belonged to him. But he had to admit that Thraxton’s made sense. After a little thought-he would be giving the orders now, so who obeyed them didn’t matter so much to him-he said, “Brigadier Benjamin should do the job well enough.”

“There are a couple of officers by that name in this army,” Count Thraxton remarked. “Which of them did you have in mind?”

“Benjamin the Heated Ham, folks call him, on account of what a bad actor he was in the plays at the military collegium at Annasville,” Bell answered. “He’s served under me through this whole campaign, and done right well. Do you know him?”

“I do.” Thraxton’s face froze. Always doleful, he now looked as if his entire family were being massacred in front of his eyes. “The gentleman in question and I… have been known to disagree.”

Since Thraxton the Braggart had been known to disagree with everyone who’d ever had anything to do with him-with the sole, and vital, exception of King Geoffrey-Bell didn’t take that too much to heart. “I’ll make the appointment anyhow, I think,” he said. “He’s brave and he’s steady and he’ll follow orders.”

“You are the commander. You must have the subordinates who suit you.” Now Thraxton looked as if his wife were being ravished before getting the coup de grace. But he didn’t say no, and that was all that really mattered to Bell. Bowing, the Braggart went on, “Now that we have effected the change, I shall withdraw. You know what his Majesty expects of you. Gods grant that you deliver it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bell said. He dipped his head instead of bowing; on two crutches and one leg, the latter was too awkward and painful to contemplate. As Count Thraxton mounted his unicorn, Bell looked around and called, “Runners!”

“Sir!” They hurried up and saluted as they came to attention before him.

“You!” He pointed at one: “Fetch me Roast-Beef William. And you!” He pointed to a second: “Get me Alexander the Steward. And you!” This to a third: “Order Benjamin the Heated Ham to report here at once.”

“Yes, sir!” The three men he’d chosen saluted again and hurried away. When he called, they came; when he pointed, they went. The power was as heady as laudanum.

Once his wing commanders had all come to the headquarters formerly belonging to Joseph the Gamecock, Bell spoke without preamble: “Gentlemen, King Geoffrey has removed Count Joseph from command over the Army of Franklin and set me in his place.”

“Congratulations, sir,” Roast-Beef William said. He was a reliable old war unicorn, and would serve well under whoever commanded him.