“When will they be here?”

“Three days, if they hurry, but if I were Baehemon, I’d get close and then camp a mile or two away.” Baesil gave Gaelin a dark look. “I’ll have to decide whether to retreat again.”

Gaelin weighed the information. They were in among the tents now. He was surprised by the number of units in the camp – there were standards and banners from dozens of different households, levies, and royal companies. But each was decimated, reduced to a fraction of its strength. This was an army that had been mauled.

“What do you want to do?” he asked the count.

“Well, I want to stand and bloody Baehemon’s nose. If we retreat, these are my lands he’ll be pillaging. But I don’t think we can beat him. We’ll need to fall back, up into the highlands, and try to rebuild our strength. There’s no sense taking him on until we know we can win.”

There was silence for a moment. Gaelin felt out of his depth in discussing strategy with Baesil. His own military experience was limited to a few years of raid and counterraid against the goblin marches.

“Here’s my suggestion,” he offered. “I don’t think we’re going to win this war in three days, no matter how badly we maul Baehemon, so let’s not try. We’ll fall back before he gets here, help the northlords chase the goblins from their lands, and try to build up an army strong enough to face Ghoere.”

Baesil nodded. “That’s my plan, but I’m leaving a few volunteers behind to hold Castle Ceried. No sense in letting Ghoere take it without a fight.”

“Good,” Gaelin said. “There’s one more thing: Before we go, I want to give Baehemon and Tuorel something to remember us by. We have seven hundred mounted troops?”

“That would be about right,” Count Baesil agreed.

“What if we visited their camp in a day or two, when Baehemon gets a little closer? The infantry can pull out beforehand to get a head start, and we’ll give them reason to sleep light at night.”

Baesil frowned, thinking. “We’re not likely to do them any lasting harm. No, I’m not going to do that.”

Gaelin stepped past Baesil, and scratched at his chin, looking out over the army’s camp. “Count Ceried, I know I only showed up on your doorstep a few minutes ago, and I appreciate the fact that you have a better grasp of the situation than I do. I will give your recommendations a great deal of con- sideration. I understand your advice, but think about a raid.”

“It’s a stupid idea, Gaelin. We’re outnumbered, and our chance of achieving surprise is negligible. Therefore, I won’t do it.”

“Count Ceried, that is not the Ceried muster out there. It’s the army of Mhoried, and it’s my concern as well as yours. I don’t need you to lead it. I need you to help me lead it.”

Baesil crossed his arms in front of his chest and stood his g round. “Who do you think you are, Gaelin? I built that army with my own hands, and they won’t march a mile until I say so.”

“Whom do you recommend as your relief?”

“What?”

Gaelin held Baesil’s eyes. “I asked, who else can run the army? I don’t know how, and you’re relieved of command.”

Erin drew in her breath. “Gaelin, have you lost your mind?”

“Aye,” Baesil agreed. “Have you lost your mind, boy? My men are nearly half of Mhoried’s army.”

“I didn’t say that I was releasing you from your feudal obligations, Baesil. Those men stay in my army. But I don’t need you to lead them if you don’t get it through your head that I am not your puppet, your spokesman, or your rallying cry. I am the Mhor, and, by Haelyn, that means I am going to lead the fight to free my country.” He advanced to stand nose-to-nose with the count and lowered his voice. “Well?

How do you want to handle this? I need you, Ceried.”

Baesil’s jaw hung open in surprise. Deliberately, he swallowed and scowled. “All right. We’ll do it your way. If you need my help, I will continue as the general of Mhoried’s army. But I still advise against a raid on Baehemon’s camp.”

Gaelin released his breath and nodded, keeping his face neutral.

“I will be honored to accept your service, Count Ceried.

N o w, let me ask you a question: A re you hesitant to attack Baehemon because you’re afraid of being defeated again?”

The general stiffened, his nostrils flaring. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Then, I want you to plan an attack of some kind against Baehemon before we withdraw.” Gaelin looked away, softening his stance. “It’ll make our troops feel good to throw a punch back at Ghoere after the pounding they’ve taken. And if we’re successful, we’ll take two or three hours away from Baehemon’s march every day, since he’ll be forced to fortify his camps.”

Grudgingly, Baesil nodded. “All right, then. We’ll mount a raid.”

“I’ll leave the details to you,” Gaelin said. “And I’ll need to talk to you at greater length about the military situation.”

Baesil nodded. “Give me a couple of hours to get the information together. Also, it would be a good idea for you to review the troops. They’ll be heartened to see the Mhor with their own eyes.” With that, he turned and left.

The moment he was out of earshot, Erin wheeled to face Gaelin. “What on earth were you thinking? You can’t show up out of the blue and expect to command the loyalty your father did. You almost drove him to revolt!”

Gaelin nodded shakily, trying not to show his fright. “If I’m going to do this, Erin, I’m not going to be a figurehead.

You asked me before if I was looking for someone to tell me what to do. Well, that’s exactly what Baesil had in mind from the moment he saw me. Mhoried can pull together to follow the Mhor – but I don’t think Mhoried would follow Baesil Ceried, who happens to have the Mhor’s heir stashed in his breast pocket.”

Erin rubbed her temples. “There must have been a better way to do that. And why did you insist on mounting an attack against his advice? Baesil Ceried knows more about fighting a war than you ever will.”

“The raid’s immaterial at this point. I asked him to do it, and he said no, so it turned into a demonstration of power.

He cornered me, so I stood my ground.”

“So? Find an excuse to cancel it in a day or two, and do what he suggests.”

“I don’t think I can, now.” Gaelin ran his hand through his hair and drew a deep breath. “I had really hoped to rest an hour or two once we got here.”

“Rest?” Erin laughed without humor. “There’s no such thing for the Mhor, Gaelin.”

Gaelin learned the truth of Erin’s words over the next three days. Each day, he was up an hour before sunrise, and each night audiences and councils of war ran long after midnight.

He was certain he could find three or four more hours a day if he only had some idea of what he was doing – he’d never seen his father looking as tired as he did when he glanced into a mirror. After a day of utter chaos, Brother Superior Huire surprised him by requesting the privilege of serving as his appointment secretary. “As you can imagine, the high prefect is extremely busy, too,” he said. “I’ve served as her chamberlain for years, and I believe I could help you.”

“I’m concerned Lady Iviena may have orders for you that might cloud your allegiances,” Gaelin replied warily.

Huire nodded. “Of course, my first loyalty is to the Temple.

But the high prefect told me to give you counsel and aid, and it seems to me I can do both by acting as your secretary.”

“Will you swear before Haelyn to keep secret what I tell you in confidence?”

“I will, my lord Mhor.” Huire’s calm reserve slipped for a moment, and a note of anger crept into his voice. “You may forget that I, too, am a Mhorien. Lady Tenarien of Riumache is my first cousin. When Baehemon burned her keep to the ground, he murdered dozens of my kinfolk.”