The idea was beginning to appeal to the younger man now.

"And if you're all killed on the first attempt, no matter how glorious it may seem at the time, by tomorrow the Temujai will simply continue on as they are, won't they?" the Ranger asked him. Olgak nodded his understanding.

"Then each night, I want you to hit a different part of the column. Burn their supplies. Set their horses loose. Kill their sentries. Get in and out fast and don't let them trap you into a standing battle. Stay alive and keep harassing them. Got the picture?"

Olgak nodded again, now more convinced of the good sense behind the plan. "They'll never know where we're going to hit them next," he said enthusiastically.

"Exactly," Halt said. "Which means they'll have to set guards along the entire column. They'll have to post extra sentries at night. And all of that will slow them down."

"It's like coastal raiding, isn't it?" the young Skandian said, thinking how the wolfships would appear from over the horizon without warning on an enemy coast and attack unprepared settlements. "Do you only want us to do it at night?" he added.

Halt thought for a minute.

"For the first couple of days, yes. Then pick a spot where you can withdraw quickly into the trees and uphill-somewhere their horses won't follow easily-and hit them in daylight. Maybe toward the end of the day-or the beginning."

"Keep them guessing?" Olgak said, and Halt patted his arm approvingly.

"You've got the idea," he said, smiling at the younger man. "And remember the golden rule: hit them where they aren't."

Olgak pondered that. "Hit them where they aren't?" he asked finally, sounding uncertain.

"Attack in those places where their troops are spread thinnest. Make them come to you. Then fade away before they really make contact. Remember that part. It's the most important of all. Survive."

He could see the younger man understood. Olgak repeated the word to himself. "Survive," he said. "I understand."

Halt turned and looked at Erak, raising an eyebrow. "Is there any reason why you should make it an order to Olgak that he's not to get tied down in a fight, Jarl?" he asked. Erak turned the question to the younger man.

"Well, Olgak, is there?" he said, and the troop leader shook his head.

"I understand what you have in mind, Ranger," he said. "Trust me. It's a good idea."

"Good man," Halt said quietly, then he turned to face the question he knew was coming from Erak.

"And what will we be doing while Olgak and his men are having all the fun?" the Jarl asked.

"We're going back to Hallasholm to start preparing a reception for our friends down there," Halt told him. "And while we're at it, we might send another half dozen parties out to harass the column the way Olgak will be doing. Everything we can do to slow them down will help us."

Erak shuffled his feet in the snow. He looked, Halt thought, remarkably like a child who has been told he must hand over his favorite toy.

"You could do that," he said finally. "Maybe I should stay and give Olgak and his men a hand." But Halt shook his head, the ghost of a smile touching the corners of his mouth.

"I need you back with me," he said simply. "I need your authority behind me if I'm going to be able to get things organized."

Erak opened his mouth to reply, but Olgak interrupted.

"The Ranger's right, Jarl," he said. "You'll be more valuable at Hallasholm. And besides, you're getting a little long in the tooth for this sort of work, aren't you?"

Erak's eyes widened with anger and he started to say something. Then he noticed that Olgak was grinning broadly and realized that the younger man was joking. He shook his head warningly, glancing at his own broadax.

"One of these days, I might just show you how long in the tooth I am," he said meaningfully. Olgak's grin widened. Halt regarded the two of them for a moment, then, slinging his longbow over his right shoulder, he turned and led the way back to where Abelard was tethered, along with the pony that Erak had reluctantly ridden when they came on this scouting expedition. He gathered Abelard's reins in one hand and turned back to the troop leader.

"I'm sure you'll do a good job, Olgak," he said. Then, glancing sidelong at the still indignant jarl, he added quietly: "You're obviously a very brave young man."

G ENERAL H AZ'KAM, COMMANDER OF THE T EMUJAI INVASION force, looked up from his meal as his deputy entered the tent. Even though Nit'zak was by no means a tall man, he had to stoop as he came through the low opening. The general gestured to the cushions that were scatted on the felt rug floor and Nit'zak lowered himself to sit on one of them, uttering a sigh of relief. He had been in the saddle the past five hours, checking up and down the length of the Temujai column.

Haz'kam shoved the fragrant bowl of meat stew that he had been eating across to the other man and indicated for him to help himself. Nit'zak nodded his thanks, took a smaller bowl from the rug between them and scooped several handfuls into it, wincing slightly as his hand made contact with the hot food. He selected a large chunk and scooped it into his mouth, chewing heartily and nodding his appreciation.

"Good," he said finally. Haz'kam's concubine-the general never brought any of his three wives on campaign with him-was an excellent cook. The general considered that ability of far greater importance during a campaign than any physical beauty. He nodded now, belched softly and pushed his own eating bowl away. The woman moved quickly forward to remove it, then returned to her position against the curved felt wall of the tent.

"So," the general asked. "What did you find?"

Nit'zak screwed his face into an expression of distaste-not at the next morsel of food, but at the subject matter he was about to report.

"They hit us again this evening," he replied. "This time in two places. Once at the tail of the column. They stampeded a small herd of horses there. It'll take half the day tomorrow to recover them. Then another group came in from the coastal side and burned half a dozen supply wagons."

Haz'kam looked up in surprise. "From the coast?" he asked, and his deputy nodded confirmation. Up until now, the nuisance raids mounted by the Skandians had been launched from the thickly wooded hills inland from the narrow coastal flatlands. The raiders would dash out, strike an undefended part of the column, then retreat into the cover of the forests and the hills where pursuit would be too risky. This new eventuality complicated things.

"They seem to have several of their ships at sea," the deputy told him. "They stay out of sight during the day, then steal in after dark and land troops to hit us. Then they retreat to sea once more."

Haz'kam probed with his tongue at a piece of meat wedged between two back teeth. "Where, of course, we can't follow them," he said.

Nit'zak nodded. "It means now that we'll have to cover both sides of the column," he said.

Haz'kam muttered a low curse. "It's slowing us down," he said.

Each morning, hours were wasted as the massive column formed up in disciplined ranks for the day's march. And, of course, once the march began, the pace was limited by the slowest sections of the column-which were the supply carts and the baggage train. It had been much faster simply moving as one vast mass.

Nit'zak agreed. "So is the problem of having to screen the camp each night."

Haz'kam took a deep swig of the fermented barley drink that the Temujai favored, then handed the leather drinking skin to Nit'zak.

"It's not what I expected," he said. "They're far more organized than our intelligence had led us to believe."

Nit'zak drank deeply and gratefully. He shrugged. In his experience, intelligence was usually inaccurate at best and dead wrong at worst.