Tirnya caught her father's eye and nodded.

"Very well," the marshal said. "Thank you, Captain Ballidyne." He turned to Waterstone's marshal and the other captains. "You heard him. Let's break camp. I want to be moving as soon as possible."

For the next hour, the camp was like a beehive, teeming with activity. The tents of the two marshals were dismantled and packed away, riding horses were saddled, cart horses were harnessed to the wagons that held provisions, and finally soldiers arrayed themselves in their companies. They were ready to go so quickly that already Tirnya was wondering if before darkness fell they might cover two leagues, rather than one.

Then they commenced their fording of the wash.

This section of the river, known as Enka's Shallows, had been used for crossings by Eandi armies during the Blood Wars. The Silverwater was wider here, and so its waters were slower and relatively shallow. Still, the wash was one of the major waterways of the Southlands; even during the driest turns of the Growing its waters were powerful and treacherous. And with the rains that had fallen recently, its current had strengthened.

Two dozen riders were sent across the wash with heavy rope, which they were to stake to the ground on the far bank. Those on foot would then use the ropes to resist the current as they crossed. But from the start, little went as they had intended. Three of the mounts under those first riders lost their footing and were swept downstream. All three horsemen managed to right their horses before they were lost, but clearly Tirnya and her father had underestimated the difficulty of this crossing. If horses struggled to make it, the foot soldiers would have a terrible time.

Jenoe ordered a dozen more riders across with what remained of their rope. Tirnya was to lead this second group and, after securing her piece of rope to her saddle, she urged Thirus, her sorrel, into the waters. The other riders followed, all of them upstream of Tirnya. The bank of the wash was steep, and no sooner had Thirus plunged into the river than it was up to Tirnya's thighs. The water was frigid, and it tore a gasp from her lungs. How could anyone hope to wade across on foot?

She wanted to shout to her father that they needed to find another way across, even if it meant marching south to N'Kiel's Span, but Thirus had begun to struggle against the current and was having trouble keeping his footing in the soft silt of the riverbed. Twice the beast stumbled and was nearly pulled under, but both times Tirnya managed to right him. She spoke to him, trying to keep him calm, but she could feel him growing more agitated by the moment.

She heard someone cry out just to the right of her. Another horse had stumbled as well, and its rider wasn't as fortunate as Tirnya had been. The horse went under briefly, broke the surface of the water again, and began to thrash wildly. The rider, a young captain from Waterstone, was unseated.

Tirnya saw him go under, his eyes wide with fear and shock. He thrust his hand up out of the water in a desperate attempt to grab the rope that trailed from Tirnya's saddle, but he missed. At the same time, she leaned back as far as she could and reached for him, brushing his fingers with her own. Again Thirus stumbled, and Tirnya lost her grip on the reins. She heard someone behind her shout her name-Enly, probably. She slipped off the saddle, but managed to grab hold of the pommel before being taken by the waters.

The river was so cold she could barely draw breath, which was the only reason she didn't let go and swim after the young captain. She could see him still, flailing against the current, clearly trying to swim back to the east bank. But the stream was too strong, the water too frigid.

And then she saw something out of the corner of her eye that lifted her heart. A figure on horseback thundered southward along the riverbank after the captain. The horse was white, and she knew without looking that the rider must be Gries. The captain's efforts to swim to safety were growing weaker by the moment. He had to be tiring, and Tirnya didn't expect that he could even remain conscious in water this cold for very long. He was also nearing the end of the shallows. Another hundred fourspans or so, and he'd be lost to swifter waters.

Gries drove his mount hard, but for several moments Tirnya doubted that he could reach the man in time. Yet somehow he did. He drew even with the captain, passed him, and then steered his mount into the water, halting directly in the captain's path. With a great effort the captain raised a hand. Gries grasped at it, lost his grip, reached for him again. And this time he managed to hold on to the man.

Tirnya heard a mighty cheer from the men behind her, and knew a moment of profound relief. The captain had been her responsibility, and she'd nearly lost him. Only a turn before, she had lost two of her men in a skirmish with some road brigands. She had grieved for days afterward, and she still found it difficult not to blame herself for their deaths. Losing this man as well might have been more than she could hear.

Confident that the captain was safe, she tried to haul herself out of the water and back onto Thirus, to whose saddle she still clung. But the cold water had weakened her, too, and her clothes weighed her down. Her arms felt leaden; her legs were growing numb. She tried a second time to climb onto her mount, and this time succeeded in getting her leg over Thirus's back.

Just as she did, she heard splashing behind her. Looking back, she saw that Enly had ridden his bay into the wash.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, breathless from her struggle to get out of the water.

"I was coming to help you."

She pulled herself the rest of the way onto her horse and took hold of the reins again. She was shivering violently, her teeth chattering, but she was safe.

"I'm all right," she said.

"You're freezing." He reached for her reins. "Let me help you to the other bank."

"I don't need help," she told him again, her tone hardening. She exhaled and closed her eyes, then looked at him again. When next she spoke it was in a softer voice. "Thank you. But really, I'm fine."

Enly looked hurt, but he nodded and started back to shore. Tirnya continued on to the other side of the wash and upon reaching it spurred Thirus out of the water and onto solid ground. He was as exhausted as she, but he managed to gain his footing on the steep embankment. The other riders had already reached land and were driving their stakes into the ground and tying off the ropes. Tirnya did so as well.

Then she straightened and gazed back across the river. Gries had just reached the armies again. Those remaining on the opposite bank were cheering both the lord heir and the captain he had saved. Several men helped the young captain off Gries's horse and one threw a blanket around his shoulders. Jenoe was there with the others and he offered Gries his hand. The marshal grinned broadly and said something; no doubt he was complimenting the man on his quick thinking and bravery.

Enly still sat his horse a short distance from them, his britches darkened and dripping. He stared at Gries and the others, but he didn't go near them. After a moment, he gazed in Tirnya's direction. Seeing that she was watching him, he turned his mount and rode away from the water's edge.

With the ropes finally in place, the foot soldiers and the Mettai who were marching with them were able to make their way across the river. It was slow going, and by the time the men and women reached the western bank, they barely had the strength to climb up out of the riverbed and onto the grass of the plain. But no one else was carried downstream by the current, and even the carts bearing their provisions forded the wash without incident. Still, by the time everyone had crossed, the sky had begun to darken. Not that it mattered. No one had the strength to march deeper into Fal'Borna land on this day. They made camp for the night barely a hundred fourspans from where the armies of Qalsyn and Waterstone had slept the night before.