Once you gave Marshal Alsin orders, he would work all day and half the night to carry them out. He might have doubts about new methods of warfare. He might raise ridiculous objections about minor points of law. He might be fussy about honor. But he understood the importance of speed in warfare, and Blade knew that could make up for a lot of other vices.

It also helped that the first attack against Duke Klaman and Castle Muras would be made by an entirely mounted force. Alsin wouldn't try a regular siege unless the fire arrows failed. So he wasn't going to take wagonloads of food, beer, tents, and spare weapons for the first attack. The stewards at the various castles of the alliance would be collecting all these supplies, of course, just in case they were needed. But the first attack on Duke Klaman would lay in the hands of a thousand picked riders, riding fast and striking like a summer thunderstorm.

«We can be even more sure of surprise if we go through the hills to the north,» said Duke Padro one evening over the wine. «I have men among my guards who were-well, let's be honest. They were outlaws in those hills. They know the trails and paths.»

Blade considered the idea. He trusted Duke Padro now. The young Duke was so eager to get back some of the reputation he'd lost over the monkey duel that he and his courtiers were working like galley slaves. «I like the idea,» he said finally. «Alsin, what about you?»

The Marshal frowned. «We can certainly go places with horses we could never go with wagons. But will this take longer? To keep surprise, we'll have to hurry.»

According to Padro, there were several trails in the hills. They chose one which would take only two days longer than the most direct route to Castle Muras. It would bring them out of the hills onto the banks of the Crimson River only a few miles north of the Castle.

It took Nainan's attacking force five days to reach the northern borders of the Duchy of Faissa, and two more days after that to reach the Crimson River itself. This was the first time Blade actually saw it, after months of living in the lands named after it. He was surprised to discover that the name was no exaggeration. The river really was a deep crimson. He asked where the color came from.

As usual, Chenosh gave the best and most complete answer. «In some places the color comes from the sand of the bottom. The sand is crimson, and the color flows out like dye from a pot. In other places, the color seems to be in the water itself. A scholar who wrote on plants two centuries ago said that it came from tiny plants living in the water.»

Probably a form of fresh-water plankton, taking its coloring from the mineral salts washing out of the sand in the bottom of the river. Blade wished he had the equipment to analyze the mineral salts, but realized that he'd have no time even with the equipment. They were less than a day's brisk riding north of Duke Klaman's castle. They had to push on now or lose all chance of surprise.

Toward mid-morning they came to the Narrows of Glin, a place where the hills came down almost to the river bank. There was only room enough for two horses to pass abreast. A handful of men could hold it against an army, even without bows. Alsin sent Blade forward with Gennar, Ebass, and two hundred Lords, to scout the countryside beyond the narrows. Such a force could snap up any small enemy patrols and warn of the approach of any larger force. Meanwhile the rest of the army could water their horses, oil their weapons, then come through the narrows ready to move straight on the castle.

There were places in the narrows where men of Blade's vanguard had to dismount and lead their horses. Nevertheless, the whole two hundred Lords got through and were riding south before noon. As they spread out again, Lord Gennar moved his horse in close to Blade's. He seemed uneasy, and Blade thought he knew why.

«How was Sarylla when you left?»

Gennar started so violently he nearly fell off his horse, then frowned. «I have to keep telling myself that you do not read men's thoughts,» he said finally. «Otherwise… Sarylla was well. And I am glad of that. More glad than I ought to be. I am a Lord, and I cannot properly care so much about Sarylla.»

«Why not?» said Blade. He suspected that Gennar was in love with Sarylla and needed help to stop feeling guilty about it, help that Blade could give. Whatever Gennar and Sarylla did after that was their own business.

«Why not!» exclaimed Gennar. «She is not of lordly birth. Her father was a blacksmith. She herself has lived-as she has lived-rather than die. So I am not even as sure as I once was that she has a lordly soul in her woman's body. Yet-I wish her well, I wish more of her company. Her company pleases me…»

Blade held in his laughter, but Gennar's situation was not at all amusing to the Lord himself. So Blade said quietly, «Are you so sure that Sarylla's choosing life in Raskod's household rather than death at once proves she does not have a Lord's soul? Remember, in the end she chose to risk that life to destroy her enemies and aid her friends. How can you be sure she did not plan this from the first? It takes a Lord's strength and courage to live a shameful life so that you can take a better vengeance in the end.»

Gennar frowned. «I never thought of that. Could it be so?»

«We see it that way in my homeland. There are many tales of warriors who played the coward until their enemies were no longer on guard, then struck.» Blade hoped he would not have to make up more than a few of the «many tales.» He didn't think he would. Gennar was willing to believe the best of Sarylla, as long as a Lord he respected told him it was all right to do so. In spite of his years and proven courage in battle, in some ways Gennar was hardly more than a boy.

Blade was halfway through his storytelling when he heard a trumpet sounding. He looked up to see two of the scouts riding back at a gallop. One was bleeding and both horses were lathered. The wounded man galloped up and gasped out his report.

«Duke Klaman's men. They're out on the riverbank, coming north fast. All of them. All!»

«There can't be all-«began Gennar.

The scout snarled. «I know what I saw, and what killed two of us. Five hundred at least. If Klaman has any more, I've never heard of them.»

At this point Blade held up a hand for silence. In the silence they all heard it-the drumming of hundreds of horses advancing fast across hard ground. Gennar sighed. «Forgive me, Lord-«

«Never mind that,» said Blade. «Gennar, take your wing and ride back to the narrows. Send a few trusted men through to warn our people, and hold the narrows to the death with the rest.»

«But-«

«Don't worry, you'll see your share of fighting sooner or later. Ebass and I will take the rest of our men and hold that hill we passed a mile back. The Faissans will be tempted to attack us there, but we can hold for a few hours at least. When Alsin comes up we can catch their Lords in the open field and break Klaman at one blow!»

As long as Blade's plan would still lead to a classic pitched battle on horseback, Gennar was happy to go along with it. He was smiling wickedly as he rode off, bawling orders to his eighty-odd Lords. As they started to pull out of line and follow him, Blade looked south. He could already see the dust rising from Duke Klaman's advancing riders.

«Center, left wings!» he shouted. «Follow me! Every four men count off one as a horse holder. Everyone with an ax, have it ready for cutting trees. Don't worry, they'll be cutting flesh and bone before the day is over!»

Like Lord Gennar, most of the men Blade was keeping with him didn't quite understand what he was planning. Like Gennar, they did know it would lead to a good fight. For the moment that was more than enough for any true-blooded Lord of the Crimson River.