All of which meant that although Jasak might on paper be only one of the brigade's twelve company commanders, he was actually a little more equal than any of the others. Jasak himself had always known that, and the knowledge had driven him to demonstrate that he deserved the preferential treatment an accident of birth had bestowed upon him. Unfortunately, not everyone recognized that, and the Arcanan Army's tradition, particularly in its Andaran units, was for officers and noncoms to remain within their original brigade or division for their entire careers. It produced a powerful sense of unit identification and was an undoubted morale enhancer, but it could also enhance petty resentments and hostilities. Family quarrels, after all, are almost always nastier than quarrels between strangers.

Shevan Garlath remembered the day a skinny, gawky young Squire Olderhan, fresh out of the Academy, had reported for duty. Shevan Garlath had been a commander of fifty then … and he still was. Barring a miracle or the direct intervention of the gods themselves, and despite the fact that he was the younger cousin of a baron, he would still be a commander of fifty when he reached mandatory retirement age. Not even his aristocratic cousin possessed the pull to get someone of his demonstrated inability promoted any higher than that. But since he wasn't prepared to admit that it was because of his own feckless incompetence, it had to be because other people?people like then-Squire and now-Commander of One Hundred Olderhan?had stolen the promotions he deserved because their connections were even loftier then his own.

He'd listened to Jasak expressionlessly, without saying a word … and certainly without ever acknowledging that a single one of the Jasak's tactful criticisms or suggestions was merited. Jasak had wanted to strangle him, but he'd been forced to admit that it was his own fault. He ought to have jerked Garlath up short six weeks ago, when the man was first transferred from Baker Company to Charlie Company as an emergency medical relief for Fifty Thaylar. But he'd told himself it was only a temporary arrangement, just until Thaylar returned from hospital and he could pack Garlath back off to Baker. So instead of sorting the idiot out?or getting rid of him?then, Jasak had let things slide. And now, as his father had always warned him, he was discovering just how much more difficult it was to correct a problem than it would have been to prevent it in the first place.

"I regret that the Hundred is dissatisfied with my efforts," Garlath had said in a cool voice when Jasak finished. "I believe, however, that my deployment of the men under my command has been both prudent and adequate."

Despite everything, Jasak had been flabbergasted.

"I don't believe you quite understand my point, Fifty Garlath," he'd said after several seconds, once he was confident he could control his own tone. "My point is that we were very slow getting started this morning and that I disagree with your assessment as to the adequacy of our formation once we did get moving. I want it changed."

"I believe, Sir, that?as my report will make clear?the reasons for any delay in our departure time were beyond my control. And my understanding of Regulations is that my chosen formation and interval fall within my own discretion, as this unit's commanding officer, so long as my deployment meets the standards laid down by Army doctrine and general field orders."

"This isn't about standards," Jasak had replied, trying to keep the anger out of his tone as he realized Garlath truly intended to defy him. "And it certainly isn't about regulations, Fifty. It's about getting the job done."

"I understand that, Sir. And I would point out that First Platoon, under my command, has successfully accomplished every task the Hundred has assigned to it."

"Whenever you finally got around to it." Jasak's response had come out a bit more icily even than he'd intended, but the defiance flickering in Garlath's eyes?the challenge, which was what it amounted to, to officially reprimand him, despite his patrons, when there was no overt failure in the field to point to?had infuriated him. As, he'd suddenly recognized, it had been intended to. Garlath, he'd realized, was actually attempting to provoke him into words or actions which the fifty would be able to claim proved the hundred's no doubt scathing endorsement of his efficiency report stemmed solely from the fact that Jasak nourished some sort of private vendetta against him.

It was the kind of cunning which proved the other man's fundamental stupidity, but that hadn't changed the parameters of Jasak's current problem, and he'd inhaled deeply.

"Listen to me, Fifty," he'd said then, "this isn't a debate, and this isn't some sort of Ransaran democracy. Tomorrow morning, you will place your point element the required two hundred yards ahead of your main body. You will place a man between your point element and your main body, in visual contact with each, and you will deploy scouts a maximum of one hundred yards out on either flank, where they can maintain adequate contact with the main body. Moreover, you will maintain one squad at immediate readiness, with its dragon locked and loaded. And when we return to base camp, you and I will … discuss our little differences of opinion about the adequacy of your command performance. Is all of that understood, Fifty Garlath?"

Garlath's already dark face had darkened further, yet he'd been left little room for maneuver. His jaw had clenched, and his eyes had blazed hotly, but he'd drawn himself up and saluted with a precision that was a wordless act of insubordination in its own right.

"Yes, Sir. Understood. And I assure the Hundred that his instructions will be obeyed to the letter. Is that all, Sir?"

"Yes, it is."

"By your leave, then, Sir," Garlath had said with frozen formality, pivoted on his heel, and stalked off to find Sword Harnak.

"I hope I'm not out of line, Sir Jasak, but you and Fifty Garlath don't exactly seem to like one another."

"Oh?" Jasak looked across at Magister Kelbryan, once more following along behind Garlath with him, and his mouth quirked in a humorless smile. "What makes you say that?"

"I could say it's because I'm Gifted, and that I was always good at social analysis spells. Which happens to be true, actually." Her smile had considerably more amusement in it than his had. "On the other hand, those spells have always been overrated in the popular press. They work quite well for mass analyses, like the polling organizations undertake, but they're pretty much useless on the microlevel." She shrugged. "So instead of falling back on the prestige and reputation of my Gift, I'll just say that he seems a trifle … sullen this morning."

The magister had a pronounced gift for understatement, Jasak reflected. In fact, Garlath's "sullenness" had communicated itself to his platoon. Sword Harnak had obviously done his best to defuse the worst of it, but Garlath had made his own air of martyred exasperation only too plain when he ordered his troopers to assume the formation Jasak had insisted upon. He'd been careful about the actual words he used, obviously determined to provide the hundred with no overt ammunition if it came to charges of insubordination. But tone and body language could be remarkably eloquent.

Jasak had considered making a point of just that. Punishable offenses under the articles of war included one defined as "silent insubordination," which could certainly be stretched to cover Garlath's attitude. He was tempted to trot it out?Garlath was busy creating the very situation Jasak had hoped to avoid by refraining from criticizing him in front of his men?but he resisted the temptation. Whatever else he might be doing, the fifty was complying, however ungraciously, with the specific instructions he'd been given.