He looked at me oddly.

“Do you have nightmares, Narayan?” I’d begun to press him quietly, to weigh his answers to questions probing his flanks.

“Never, Mistress. I sleep like a baby.” He turned slowly, surveyed the camp. The countryside was shrouded in mist. “What’s the agenda today?”

“Do we have practice weapons enough for a mock combat? One battalion against the other?” I had enough men to field two battalions of four hundred men, with a few hundred left to carry out camp duties and provide one inept cavalry troop.

“Barely. You want that?”

“I’d like to. But how can we reward the victors?” Training involved competitions now, with rewards for winning and for effort. Superior effort, even in losing, deserves recognition. Recognition encourages soldiers to give their best.

“There’s relief from fatigues, foraging, and sentry duty.”

“That’s a possibility.” I was also considering letting individuals send for their wives after we moved to Ghoja.

Ram brought me a breakfast bowl. We weren’t eating well but we were getting bulk enough, so far. Narayan asked, “How much longer can you stall here?”

“Not long.” Time was turning against us. The existence of the band had to be known up north. Potential political enemies would be digging in.

“Instead of mock combat we’ll have a review. Spread a rumor that I’m thinking of moving out if what I see pleases me.” That ought to motivate them.

“Yes, Mistress.” Narayan retreated. He gathered his cronies, a dozen men who showed snips of colored cloth at their waists.

An interesting group. They sprang from all three major religions, two minor cults, and from among the liberated foreign slaves. They pretty much ran the camp though only Narayan and Ram had official standing. They kept the peace. The men weren’t quite sure how to take them, but responded seriously because of that aura of the sinister that I’d noted myself.

Narayan admitted nothing. He handled my probes deftly. There was no doubt he directed the dozen, though several sprang from higher castes.

I kept an eye on him. Time would betray him-if he didn’t open up, as he hinted he might.

For the moment he was too useful to press.

I nodded approval. “They almost look like soldiers.” We’d have to get them uniform dress.

Narayan nodded. He seemed smug, as though his genius had produced our triumph and sparked a renascent spirit.

“How’re the riding lessons coming?” Just making talk. I knew. Abysmally. None of these clowns belonged to a caste that got closer to a horse than to trail along behind cleaning up. But, damn, it would be a sin to waste those mounts.

“Poorly. Though a few men show promise. Not including myself or Ram. We were born to walk.”

“Show promise” had become his favorite expression. In reference to everything. As he taught me to use the strangler’s kerchief, or rumel, at my insistence, he said I showed promise.

I suspected he was surprised at how easily I picked it up. Its manipulation came as naturally as breathing, as though it was a skill I’d had all along. Maybe it came of centuries of practice at the quick, subtle gestures needed to manipulate sorceries.

“You were saying you were going to move?” Narayan asked. “Mistress.” The honorific was becoming an afterthought. Narayan remained Taglian. He was beginning to take me for granted.

“Our foragers are having to range pretty far.”

Narayan didn’t reply but seemed reluctant to go.

I had a feeling I was being watched. At first I credited it to the crows. They kept me uncomfortable. Now I understood Croaker’s reaction better. They didn’t behave the way crows ought. I’d mentioned them to Narayan. He’d grinned and called them a good omen.

Meaning they were a bad omen for someone else. ’ I scanned our surroundings. The crows were there, in their scores, but... “Narayan, collect the dozen best horsemen. I’m taking a patrol out.”

“But... Do you think...?”

How could I get through? “I’m no garden rose. I’m taking a patrol out.”

“As you command, Mistress, so shall it be.”

It had better, Narayan. It had better.

Swan glanced at Blade. The black man’s attitude toward Smoke had grown from disdain into contempt. The wizard had no more spine than a worm. He shook like a leaf.

Cordy said, “That’s her.”

Swan nodded. He grinned but kept his thoughts to himself. “She’s putting something together. That gang is more organized than any I’ve seen down here.”

They backed off the knoll from which they’d been watching the camp. Blade said, “We going to drop in?” He had hold of the wizard’s sleeve like he expected the runt to run.

“Not yet. I want to circle around, check it out down south. Shouldn’t be that far to where they hit the Shadowmasters’ men. I want to see the place. If we can find it.”

Cordy asked, “Think they know we’re here?”

“What?” The idea startled Swan.

“You said they’re organized. Nobody ever accused the Lady of not being efficient. She should have pickets out.”

Swan thought. No one had entered or left the camp, but Mather had a point. If they wanted to remain unnoticed they’d better move on. “You’re right. Let’s go. Blade, you were down here before. Know how to cross that creek somewhere that’s not too far out of the way?”

Blade nodded. In those desperate days before the Black Company picked up the reins he’d led guerrillas behind the Shadowmasters’ main forces.

“Lead on. Smoke, old buddy, I wish I could get a peek inside your head. I never seen anybody so ready to drizzle down his leg.”

The wizard said nothing.

Blade found a game ford three miles east of the south road, led the way through woods narrower than Swan expected. When they reached the southern side, Blade said, “Road’s two miles that way.”

“I figured.” The sky was dark with buzzards. “That’s where we’ll find our dead men.”

That was the place.

The air was still. The stench hung like a poisonous miasma. Neither Swan nor Mather had a stomach strong enough to let them take a close look. Blade, though, seemed to have no sense of smell.

He returned. Swan said, “You look green around the gills.”

“Not much but bones left. Been a while. Two hundred, three hundred men. Hard to tell now. Animals been at them. One thing. No heads.”

“Eh?”

“No heads. Somebody cut them off.”

Smoke moaned, then chucked his breakfast. His mount shied.

“No heads?” Swan asked. “I don’t get it.”

Mather said, “I’ve got an idea. Come on.” He rode south, toward where crows circled, dipped, and squabbled.

They found the heads.

Blade asked, “Want to get a count?” He chuckled.

“No. Let’s drop in on our friends.”

Smoke made protesting noises.

Cordy asked, “You still hot to trot with your proud beauty?”

Swan couldn’t think of a flip answer. “Maybe I’m starting to see Smoke’s viewpoint. Don’t let me get on her bad side.”

Blade said, “Only a mile to their camp straight up the road.”

Swan snorted. “We’ll go around, thank you.”

After they crossed the game ford, Mather suggested, “Suppose we go up the road a ways and come down like we don’t know nothing about back there? See what they say if they think we just rode in.”

“Stop whining, Smoke,” Swan said. “Go with it. You got no choice. You’re right, Cordy. It’ll give us a clue if she’s going to play games.”

They rode north till they were behind a rise, turned west to the road, then turned south. They were almost back to the crest when Mather, in the lead, yelled, “Yo! Lookout!”