"Can you do this?" Jenoe asked the Mettai.

Mander looked uncertain. "We can try."

"There was more," Tirnya said. "You weren't done telling us which magics you'd use."

He nodded. "Right. The last thing we should do is conjure wolves, and send them in along with the army."

Jenoe frowned. "Wolves?"

The smile returned to Mander's face. "Not just any wolves. B-" Fayonne touched his arm and shook her head.

"Enchanted wolves," Mander went on a moment later, still eyeing her. "Intelligent, powerful, and immune to language of beasts. The white-hairs wouldn't be able to confuse them with their magic."

"You've done this?" Gries asked.

"We know how to do it," Fayonne said. "Some spells have been passed down for generations. This is one of them. It was used long ago, early in the Blood Wars."

Fairlea's captain shook his head. "I've never heard of such a thing." He looked at Enly. "Have you?"

"It doesn't matter if you've heard of it," Tirnya said before Enly could answer. "This is just what we've been hoping for. We've known all along that early in the Blood Wars things were different. The Eandi did well against Qirsi magic. Now we know that some of the spells used back then survive to this day. We should use them all."

They turned to Jenoe, who gazed toward the western horizon, as if he could already see the sept. He didn't look pleased.

"Father?" Tirnya said, ending a lengthy silence.

The marshal shook his head slowly. "I don't like this. Forgive me, Eldest," he added with a glance at Fayonne. "We brought you here to wield your magic, and wield it you will. But I have to say that I'm uncomfortable fighting this way. I've never had to rely on any form of sorcery, and I never thought I would."

"You can't defeat them without us," Fayonne said, her tone as blunt as her words. "We both know that. So I'd suggest you put your qualms aside and let us fight the way we know how."

Once again, Enly expected the marshal to react angrily. Instead, he laughed.

"I suppose I deserved that. You're right, Eldest. We need your magic, and we'll be grateful to you and your people for shedding your blood on our behalf."

Fayonne nodded solemnly. "Get the others," she said, turning to her son once more. She looked back at Jenoe. "I'm sure you understand, Marshal, that we can be most effective at the head of your army."

"Yes, of course." Jenoe looked at Enly, Tirnya, and the others. "Our archers will begin the assault; we should bring them forward also."

"Yes, Marshal," Enly said, speaking for the others before they all returned to their companies.

Enly found his lead riders in a tight cluster, talking quietly among themselves as his soldiers milled about. Seeing Enly approach, they turned to face him. Aldir Canithal, the senior man among his riders, barked a command to the rest of the company that instantly had them scrambling to muster themselves back into formation.

"It's all right," Enly called.

The soldiers slowed, though they still returned to their positions. "What's happened?" Aldir asked in his usual clipped tone.

"The scouts have spotted a sept ahead. The marshal wants us to bring the bowmen forward. We're about to have our first battle."

Several of the other riders blanched at these tidings, but not Aldir. He was actually several years older than Enly, and might well have made captain already had Enly not requested that the man remain under his command. He'd explained as much to Aldir, who had dismissed his apologies with a wave of his hand.

"I'm a soldier," he'd said at the time. "I'm in no hurry t' be a captain. You boys never get yar uniforms dirty."

Enly had laughed, thinking at the time that the man was right: He was a warrior to the very core. He definitely looked the part. He had a high forehead and a broad, homely face. His nose had been broken so many times in battle tournaments and training sessions that it always looked swollen and bent. His eyes, clear blue like lake waters during the Snows, were small and widely spaced. He wasn't particularly tall or broad, but he moved with an efficient grace, like a wolf on the prowl. There was no one else with whom Enly would have felt more at ease going into battle, except perhaps-and Enly never would have admitted this to his father-for Jenoe.

"We saw ya go past with th' Mettai," Aldir said now. "We suspected th' scouts had found somethin'."

"What are th' Mettai goin' t' be doin'?" asked Jinqled Savlek.

"Magic," Enly said. "Which is just what we brought them to do."

Jinq looked away, but nodded, his lips pressed in a flat line. He was, in many ways, as different from Aldir as any man could be. Tall, handsome, with red hair, green eyes, and a smile that had charmed many a barmaid into his bed, he was the youngest of Enly's lead riders. He was a good soldier. Someday he'd be a great one, but for now he was too reckless, too prone to mistakes. He'd made clear to Enly on several occasions that he didn't like the Mettai and had no interest in riding into battle beside them.

"There are other ways t'-"

Aldir silenced Jinq by laying a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Let it be, lad."

Jinq looked away again.

Enly stepped closer to them. "If it makes you feel any better, Jinq," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "the marshal isn't too sure about this, either."

"Then why are we doin' it?"

"Because as much as we don't feel comfortable with sorcerers, we're going to war against them, and having magic on our side balances things a bit. Do you really want to face the Fal'Borna with nothing more than arrows and steel?"

Jinq gave a grudging shake of the head.

"Divide the men-archers and swordsmen. Aldir, you'll command the archers, and I expect you'll answer directly to the marshal. Ilyan, you'll lead the swordsmen. The rest of you go as your talents dictate. If you've any skill with a bow, follow Aldir. Archers will be most helpful against this enemy." He looked at Aldir again. "The Mettai will be performing what they call a finding spell. It'll enable us to identify their Weavers. Listen for the marshal's command and concentrate your volleys where he tells you. The Weavers are the key to all of this. If they can be defeated, the rest of the Qirsi army won't have a chance."

Aldir and the other riders nodded to him and Enly started away, intending to walk among his men.

"What kind o' spells will they be doin', Captain?" Jinq asked, stopping him. "Th' Mettai, I mean. Aside from this findin' spell."

Enly turned to face him. He'd evaded Jinq's question the first time; he didn't feel right doing so again. "They'll be using fire on the shelters." He hesitated, but only for a moment. "And they'll be conjuring wolves."

"Wolves?" Jinq repeated, the blood draining from his face.

"Apparently the Mettai who marched with our people during the early years of the Blood Wars did this, to great effect."

The young rider nodded, but he looked even more unsettled than he had before. Enly left him, knowing there was nothing he could say that would ease his mind.

It didn't take the soldiers of the three armies long to rearrange themselves, and soon they were ready to march again. The Mettai villagers now walked at the van beside Jenoe, Hendrid, and their captains. They were followed by nearly fifteen hundred bowmen. The balance of the army, some twenty-five hundred swordsmen, brought up the rear. For all his doubts about this war, Enly couldn't deny that his father and the other lord governors had put together an impressive force. The Fal'Borna might have been prepared for an attack, but he found it hard to believe that they were ready for an army of this size.

They hadn't gone far when they topped a gentle rise and looked down upon the sept, which sat on a large, wedge-shaped piece of land at the confluence of two small streams. As the scouts had said, the paddock at the far end of the settlement was crowded with horses-greys, blacks, sorrels, bays, and whites. Enly couldn't remember seeing so many horses in one place.