VIII. April 770

"In the light of the Divine Sun..." The priest did not intone his invocation, Vivian noticed, but spoke it as though he were just now thinking of the words. He really meant it. Besides being the sincerest person Vivian had ever met, Trofim fitz-Trofim was as otherworldly as any priest, as prone to moments of wonder and mystical certainty, as comforting when comfort was needed, and as full of voice. She couldn't imagine him haranguing an assembly of citizens about their sins--he had not an ounce of sin in him. He didn't really understand evil from the inside, see its shadows, bathed as he was in the direct glare of the Sun. And such a glorious beard!

There was silence. The Countess looked around the table: Neil of Gorngold resplendent in his furs, Purcell Colmack in his cleanest clothes, the scribe Edgar looking dutiful. Sir Rogier and Sir Everard sat side by side, as they had done in council for a decade. The new horse marshal, the third of Vivian's two years, was positioned at the far end of the table, directly in the line of fire of her eyes. It was the place usually given to the newest member of the Council, and Lord Margus of Passaya had occupied it for every council of his two year tenure, roasting in Vivian's glare. Colmack, both sensible and clever, had managed to claim the far seat on the left side from his first council onward, and never needed roasting anyway. Seated behind the privileged members of the table were the six remaining Thanes: Horst, Karlan, Burley, Hugo, Robert and Ellimer. Above them all lounged the Countess Tereza, her century-old gaze roasting Vivian as usual.

"All right," said Vivian, "there's only one topic on the agenda. Marshal Weaver?" Francis Weaver, the new Horse Marshal, stood up. "It's not necessary to stand," she advised him. He sat back down.

"My lady, my lords of the council," he started. He cleared his throat. Vivian wished she knew some way to reach out and calm his nerves, but all she knew how to do was to the opposite effect. It was what Margus had most needed. Briefly in her mind she stood over the late horse marshal's dead body, berating him for his foolishness. She tried to smile at Weaver.

"The Avar horde is now three thousand horse and two thousand skirmishers," he said, reading from notes, "gathered just out of bowshot on the east side of the river. We hold the crossings, of course, and there's no chance they will cross here. The danger is that they will sneak across the Lavan above or below Vonnis. Thus I have placed the cataphracts along the river in three stations, one here, another twenty miles upriver just south of the Deep Ford, and a third fifteen miles down. We have managed to raise twelve hundred cavalry, and on the Countess's suggestion all the remaining knights are being trained and equipped as cataphracts."

"I don't approve," said Sir Everard. "They're not archers."

"Oh no," said Vivian. "They're not sensible enough to be archers." Sir Everard raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Go on, Marshal."

"As you know, of a thousand knights at Vonnis only four hundred escaped the defeat last month. We mourn the loss of many brave lords and cavaliers, including the heirs of both Intror and Westdubbik."

"We certainly do," said Vivian. "Sir Jacob de Fugad was set to follow his father's path in both bravery and wisdom. And Thane Karlan, they say your son Belrath fell defending the retreat of the reserve, after it was certain that the battle was lost. He may have saved many men."

Thane Karlan met her eyes and then looked away. Thane Horst stood and cleared his throat. "My lady," he said, "I only wish I had a few more sons to throw into the fight. But I now affirm Neil as my heir in Westdubbik." Horst had three children that had lived to adulthood: Jacob was the eldest, his sister Agnes a year younger, and Neil, the last born of six before the death of fever of Horst's first wife, was five years younger than Agnes, who was in commerce with her husband at Dubkarin.

"Well," Vivian said, "let's have no more of that talk. Sir Everard, could you summarize the situation in the Rocky Valley?"

"Since the victory near Acali," replied the Lord Consul, "we have a bit more breathing room. The Rugian raids on Selac continue, but Thane Robert has sufficient forces to meet their small parties. In Siret, a Rugian body seems to have settled north of Hildiwern, and their leader is someone called Sigrith, who seems to be the 'warrior woman' we heard so much about last year. She's made some demands, but apparently she's happy with the territory she now holds."

"At least one of these barbarian leaders is willing to tell us what she wants," said Vivian.

"Well," said Sir Everard, "we may as well let her have what she wants, since she's got it already. But other clans or tribes or whatever have carried the attack further into Siret four thousand strong, and four thousand again north of Simkin. Ellimer holds the southern half of the province only, along with the walls of Hildiwern."

"We can't help him much even if we're inclined to," said Vivian.

"And Siret's a bit of a dead end for them," said Sir Everard. "The mountains to the south will block the Rugians from advancing further."

"Why?" asked Thane Horst. "They're certainly accustomed to mountain hikes."

"Because of the vigilance of the Thane of Westdubbik," replied Sir Everard.

"Vigilance is a fine thing," said Horst, "but it doesn't make up for a lack of soldiers. Westdubbik can now raise only about three hundred to send to the Countess, and that leaves a militia of something around five hundred, which honestly I would not trust my life to if they had to fight an equal number of Rugians. And an 'equal number' is the last thing we can expect. The scouts report--shall I give you my scouts' report?" The Countess and Sir Rogier answered with identical waves. "Well, we hear that more Rugians are coming. No numbers yet, but it must be several more thousand. Rugian clans seem to come in clumps of a couple thousand at a time. Over the mountains into Siret and Selac and maybe even Tarnver. And what about the Avars?"

"Harrumm," said Thane Burley of Skavin. Everyone shifted to look in his direction. "We've noticed more of them, too, coming over the Fire Pass. Mostly they're headed toward the south, which means Vonnis, and that's not good news either, but they're certainly making themselves at home in eastern Skavin."

"So," said Sir Rogier, "how many are there, in Clane?"

"Over ten thousands now in Bazir. Three thousand or more expected over the pass this summer. What brings them, I haven't a guess: doubtless some catastrophe over the mountains."

"Doubtless," said Vivian, a shadowy thought chilling her heart. "Thane Burley, can you hold out, or do you want more help?"

"My lady, we will hold out, I promise you. We are well-fortified and offer little that they could want. And I think we have stung their reaching hand three or four times this past year. They know that they can pass by Skavin and get at the meat of Clane. Have a care for yourself."

"I will," said Vivian, "yet I would send you aid if only we had aid to send." She jotted with her pencil on a piece of paper. "Eighteen thousand." She laughed. "Going on twenty-one, plus more Rugians no doubt. It's incredible. It's a joke. It's a big joke."

"And yet it's true," said Sir Rogier. "It is perhaps a tide in Imperial history that has taken us. Terandra was overrun under the Empire, Liath has been desolate these what, ten years, Inzil is teetering, and even the ancient Duchy of Allor is half-conquered by the Count of Shadewind. Many Sovereign States will be tested, now that the Emperor is gone, and many will fall." He sighed, and so did everyone else. "In any case, by high summer we will have at least fifteen thousand of the enemy to deal with, and we cannot hope to raise more than twenty-five hundreds."

Neil of Gorngold chimed in. "No one up to now has even mentioned money."

"How is the treasury?" asked Sir Rogier.

"Empty."

"Well," said Vivian, "it's not like I'm surprised. Any suggestions?"

"I have no suggestions about the money side of it," said Sir Rogier, "but I implore your ladyship to remove your seat of government from Vonnis."

"What? Why? It's not time to pull out of the capital yet, is it?" Somehow Vivian didn't feel as though things were quite that bad. What had she won all those battles for?

"A precaution," said Sir Rogier, "considering the enemy is just across the river."

"All right, where to?"

"Dubkarin," suggested Thane Horst, and Thane Hugo said, "Tarnhold, of course."

"Angren, at least," offered Sir Everard of Angren.

"I won't say Skavin," said Thane Burley.

"Better not," said Sir Rogier, "or you'd be a much more interesting morsel for the Avar Khan. No, I would say, find somewhere out of the way, and keep it quiet. Think about it for a few days. But not too long. If the Avars cross the Lavan say, fifty miles north of here, they could come on Vonnis from two sides in less than a week."

"It would still hold," said Weaver. Purcell Colmack grunted in agreement.

"Still," said Sir Rogier, "the Countess must be prudent as well as brave."

"May I say," said Thane Horst, "that if any doubted her on the latter count, the battle by Acali should change their minds."

"Thanks, Thane Horst," said Vivian, "but I still harbor doubts as to my ability to lead two thousand Clanishmen against ten thousand Avars, so I'll accept Sir Rogier's suggestion. At least the household should move to a safer spot. I myself can stay on until directly threatened. Finesse can outrun most of the horses available to our attackers."

"What about help from the other Lords Sovereign?" asked Weaver.

"Nothing from Inzil," said Sir Rogier, to a few humorless laughs. "Nor Shadewind. But as to Farlain: Thane Karlan?"

The Thane of Intror smiled. "I am happy to report, and I notice that this may be the only good news of the day, that the Duke of Farlain is prepared to help us to the tune of several thousand infantry and some of his knights. I doubt, however, that they will want to be retrained as cataphracts."

"Really? Several thousand?" Vivian replied. "That is a pleasant surprise. Um, he doesn't expect me to marry his son, does he?"

"He makes no mention of that," said Sir Rogier.

"Well, then, by all means, let him send what he can. He at least must have realized that the fall of Vonnis would be bad for Farlain."

"Indeed, and bad for Intror," said Thane Karlan. "Our working theory, mine and the Duke's, is that the Avars ultimately want to sack Avigon. Not that they'd get much, but they don't know that. And along the way is Farlain, with its rich towns and fertile fields."

"Well," said Vivian, "we have a lot of other business, but let it be ordered that the Duke of Farlain's offer is accepted. Edgar, write back to him in the most polite and groveling terms."

They went on for another hour, pondering their strategic problems and trying to find money and manpower not already expended, and they broke up at last feeling just a little more optimistic than before.

Vivian stopped her treasurer on his way out of the conference. "Neil," she said, "can I trouble you for one more moment?"

He turned his watery eyes upon her with a frown. "My lady?"

"Neil, I've been doing some reading, trying to familiarize myself with the records of the County, and trying to answer this question of money."

"That's very industrious of your ladyship. Do you need my help in interpreting the accounts books?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure. They're not that difficult."

"Well, what, then?"

"Well," said Vivian, mirroring back his half-hidden impatience, "I wonder if you've noticed something. You know, revenues are down since my father died."

"We've had several calamities," he replied. "It's only what one might expect, considering that two of our provinces have been shorn off, and what, three others invaded."

"Yes, but I've noticed a decrease since the last reign in the payments by some of the lords individually, who would hardly have been affected by the invasions." He returned her look with a blank stare and said nothing. She sensed a little resentment, and other feelings behind it. Why was she interfering in his office? Why was she interfering in the way things were done? She went on. "Anyway, I just wonder if you would mind looking into it. I--"

"I'll do that." He turned on his toe and walked out.

"I can't believe you did it. I just can't believe it," Angeline was saying. "Not that I'd ever question your ladyship's judgement." She and Vivian and Ellean and Jen were sitting around in Vivian's drawing room that night with a bottle of young wine. Rain beat on the window: it had been raining for two days. Boxes were piled up around them, half of them full. Simone was in one of them, napping. "He'll jump on his horse and ride straight into combat at the least excuse. He'll think it's his duty."

"No more now than before," said Vivian. "He's a lot more sensible than Margus was."

"Well, that sets my mind at ease," Angeline replied. "He thinks he has to offer his life in your service. I think he's disappointed when he doesn't come back at least a little wounded."

"Angeline, what can I tell you? He's less likely to die in battle as the Horse Marshal than he was as a mere captain of cataphracts. Besides, I trust him, and he's smart, and his men would follow him into a volcano."

"They sure would. He's not so smart he wouldn't lead them there."

"Well, I'll keep reminding him not to do anything stupid. He has Margus as an example. I'd like to point out that Margus died as a direct result of disobeying my orders. Not, as you seem to think, as a result of following them." Angeline shook her head. Jack got a sorrowful look on his face. "Look, we're making Jackolino unhappy. Come on, Angeline, it's an honor!"

"Yes, Countess."

"What about moving out of the Citadel?" asked Ellean. "Whose idea was that?"

"The Council deemed it prudent," said Vivian, "and I did not go along willingly. The theory is that, with the enemy just across the river, Vonnis isn't safe for poor defenseless little me."

"Defenseless!" said Ellean. "Not with me by your side."

"Yes, well, I forgot to bring that up, or I'm sure they would have dropped the whole idea. And I'm not moving out, just relocating some of my belongings."

"Well, you may call it relocating your belongings," said Ellean, "but it looks like moving out to me. Where to?"

"We're not quite sure," said Vivian. "I'm thinking about Dubkarin, or maybe Tarnhold."

"They're not much better than Vonnis," said Angeline. "The Rugians are likely to appear before Tarnhold any day now, the way things are going."

"The way things are going, I'd be safer in an upstairs flat in North Avigon."

"The way things are going," said Ellean, unfolding a piece of paper she produced from her shirt pocket, "you'd be saferhere." It was a map, hand-drawn by the Lady Ellean Rain of Angren, of the province of Westdubbik, and though Ellean herself had only been to Clatu and Fugad and Dubkarin, she had illustrated all the towns and villages from second-hand knowledge and from imagination. She pointed to a castle in the mountains overlooking the Glass River.

"Nikolad," said Vivian. "Boy, that seems familiar."

"I've never been there," said Ellean.

"Nor I, but I have a picture of it in my mind. I must've heard it described." She squinted at the map. "And if my picture is correct, then it doesn't look anything like this."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"So what's so great about Nikolad?" asked Angeline.

"It's certainly remote," observed Jen, who was a Vonnis girl.

"And it's wicked strong," said Ellean. "I read where it has walls ten feet thick and thirty feet high. I tried to draw it in that way, Countess, I'm sorry if I got it wrong. There was a lord there named Mathias de Nikolad, he opened up a few thousand acres of the highland for dairy and started the tapping of maples up there too. I guess he made a pile of gold, but with it being so remote and all, he had bandits to contend with, so he put his money into building the castle. Get this: the only road access is by a bridge over this deep chasm."

"Well, well," said Vivian, "you know something about the County that I didn't. Who's lord there now?"

"No one," said Ellean. "Lord Patric and his two sons were all killed with Margus. Thane Horst hasn't gotten around to deciding whether to invest the daughter with the place, or find a suitable male relation."

"Why? What's wrong with the daughter?"

"Nothing that I know of."

"That's completely unfair," said Angeline.

"Well, I agree," said Vivian, "but you have to see it their way. They think a woman can't lead soldiers, and this could be considered a military outpost."

"Why?"

"Because it's in the mountains, near a border. And, while we're at it--" She paused. "Because the Countess is about to appropriate it for security reasons."

"Nikolad?" repeated Thane Horst. He and Vivian were standing in her library the next morning. "Yes, I know the place. Lovely setting. Not much to do there, though. Why are you interested? I mean, normally, the succession would be a provincial matter."

"I'm interested," said the Countess, "because I'd thinking about, um, retiring there."

"Oh. Oh. I see why you wanted to discuss it privately. Well, yes, it answers all the requirements, doesn't it? It's defensible, remote--Surely the Council should know."

"We'll tell them I've found a spot. I really don't want people to think I'm running."

"Of course not. Very good, Countess. The more I think about it, the more I like it. This does give you, to my mind, some standing on the question of succession."

"And I think you know where I'll stand."

"But the Lady Mirabel is not like you. She's only twenty, and she's never led men or run a manor. It's still an important military outpost--it's really Westdubbik's first defense against Rugian invasion. And it's even more important with you there."

"Ah, but if I'm ever to relocate there," replied the Countess, "I'll have military minds aplenty available to consult. Starting with myself, if you will. And besides, what was I when I inherited the county?"

Horst grinned. "You were twenty-one," he replied. "Almost twenty-two. There's a big difference." He laughed. "Just between us, it was Neil mainly who wanted Lord Patric's second cousin. Old hunting pal. Good shot with a bow. Not," he added, as they stepped out into the hall, "that I'd pick him in a contest with your ladyship."

The rain went on for a week and a half. The river rose and rose and flooded out into the flatlands, forcing the Avars to move their camp up the slope of the valley's east side. There were more and more of them: all agreed that the number now must be six thousand, if not seven. Inzil had indeed settled with its invaders in some unknown way. On the other hand, four thousand Farlain troops were reported advancing northward to the relief of the capital. Vivian had trouble deciding whether to force herself to plan for leaving or steel herself to stay: she did not feel, really, as though anything were different about Vonnis even though she could see and smell the cause of all the commotion, on a clear day with an east wind, camped across the river.

Simone retreated to Angren with much of the Countess's wardrobe and most of the jewelry. The library was packed up, along with Vivian's records and assorted valuables, and sent off to a parts unknown to any but the Rain sisters, Jen, Thane Horst, Sir Rogier and a few soldiers. "I offer Clatu," Sir Rogier said when she told him, "but I do approve of Nikolad as second best."

She also packed up her secret library and the supplies alchemical that were hidden in the Countess's Workshop, packing jobs that she had to undertake alone. Only the diaries of Countess Tereza did she hang onto--three thick books that stayed in her shapeless bag, sitting by her bed ready to go with two changes of clothes and a few personal supplies.

Before she boxed up all of her items of alchemy, Vivian had one more afternoon in the workshop. She made a batch of "Powder for (something something something)", the recipe that Tereza had made so often. This was as laborious as she'd anticipated, but not tricky. Vivian was beginning to guess what it was. The first something was "prevention" or "holding off". At first Vivian thought that meant a defense against sinister influences, she began to think otherwise when she considered this most oft-used substance in conjunction with Countess Tereza's most notable secretive activity. She also made up a triple batch of the crystals she used for her excursions to the world beyond the Arch, although she was far from having the courage to go there again.

That night Vivian sat in her high room with her cup of wine and her candles and her cards, but no book--those books were in boxes on a cart headed for Angren, then via Fugad to Dubkarin, and thence on to Nikolad. She turned over the top card and placed it face up before her: no random choice, but her card, the Priestess on her tall chair with the crescent moon at her feet.

She sipped the wine and pondered for a few moments, considering and setting aside, one by one, all the things that concerned her. Then she gave the lefthand, unlit candle an expert stare, one that would have sent the most eager suitor packing, and it flamed up quickly. In an instant she was all eye, floating in the middle of the room before a seated, perhaps sleeping young woman. She took a moment to appraise this only occupant of the room: a small but not tiny woman, skinnier than she would have guessed, with brown hair that just touched her shoulders, wearing dark pants and a loose white tunic, her only ornament the golden medallion of the Countess. Then out the window the eye flew and onto the night air, rising a bit before swooping down over the town.

Vonnis was no quieter than it would normally be in the middle of an evening of April, with a low fog overhung by a million tiny stars in a black sky. People moved about on errands, stood and talked in the streets; a dozen or so stood outside a tavern, finishing wine-soaked conversations before heading home; a few tradesfolk worked, notably a blacksmith forging a sword; soldiers patrolled the streets and walls. The eye flew low over the street and then up over the town wall, and the vista of the river replaced the vista of the city.

The Lavan flowed big and flat through the night, carrying logs and boards and other debris of a heavy spring flood. Beyond, a hundred yards of flatland bathed in a foot or two of flood water. Now, bodiless, she sped on toward the Avar camp. Sentries sat on horses, men moved to and fro on horses, and in the midst of the camp thousands more horses stood, fidgeting in the cool air. Swarthy men strode back and forth, their eyes glittering. Each minute a quarrel broke out, or a quarrel was settled and friendship renewed. Cups were emptied, meat devoured, and song made from strange instruments and loud strong voices. Blades were everywhere, swords and sabers and scimitars and stilettoes, shining in the firelight from every man's waist or hand. Men practiced swordsmanship in intricate mock battles, dodged thrusts and riposted, circled each other laughing at death, cursed each other smiling, hurled brilliant complex curses like sparkling knives, and then hugged like lost brothers.

The longer her eye hung around, the more she noticed: cows pilfered from valley farms, women with a predictable role in camp, jewelry everywhere indicating the status of the wearer, and shamans, priests of the Avar creed of nature-spirits, whose distinguishing marks were extravagant tattoos and strings of wooden beads. But there was something else there, someone hidden who almost saw her, someone she almost saw--not quite. She fled, back across the river, back to the walled town and its ordinary, understandable and loveable citizens.

She lingered for a short time among them, among the guards on the wall discussing their family affairs, among the carousers in one of the squares, and over the shoulder of the grumbling blacksmith, and then she returned to the Citadel of Vonnis. She saw that riders bearing Farlain insignia had arrived--three men, all knights or squires, none she had seen before, one older than the others and clearly in charge. With them rode Thane Karlan of Intror. They dismounted before the front door, but led their horses to the stable around the side; the leader gave a minute's worth of instructions to the stabler. Typical knight, though Vivian; thinks that my stablers have never seen a horse the likes of his before. As the four left the stabler with their horses, a man emerged from one of the citadel's many side doors and walked out to meet them--Neil of Gorngold. They spoke for a moment, then went inside. She pieced it together, and felt somewhat relieved: the Farlain contribution to the defense of Vonnis approached along the road through Intror; these men rode on ahead to see to lodging and provision.

She let her eye rise on the night air to the third row of windows and found one of them open. She wafted in on the breeze and found herself in her conference room. It was empty and dark, but through its open door she could see the hall and the foot of the narrow stair that led up to her apartment on the fourth floor. She could hear footsteps coming down, coming the way she came every day. She sped out into the hall and saw Ellean, dressed very nicely in one of Vivian's short black dresses, her auburn hair flying about her and gems glittering from her neck and her ears, running down the stairs.

Instinctively Vivian backed up. Ellean flew by on her way to her date. As soon as she was down the next staircase, Vivian looked around. On whom to spy next? Her question was answered as a dark shape emerged from behind a pillar. It glanced about furtively, still half in the shadow, and then it hastened to the stairs, which it ascended without a sound. Vivian did not wait to see more: the invader was outside her apartments.

She fled out the window and up, up to the window of her high room. All was as before, including the softly breathing young woman seated with her legs crossed before two candles. She shot back into her body, which awoke with a jolt. Hardly waiting to regain her bearings, she put out the candles, chugged the rest of the wine and picked up candles and cards and cup. These last were returned to their box and set on a shelf out of the way. Then Vivian hurried out the door and down the torch-lit spiral stairs. When she reached the door into her antechamber, the shadowy figure was waiting for her. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She flung herself into his arms and Vivian and Willd dissolved together in a breathless embrace.

Two days later the Farlain troops arrived: three thousand infantry and a thousand knights, fresh from defeating again the Duke's northern rebels. They camped around the town here and there: some south of the Rocky River, some north of Vonnis, and five hundred or so, mostly knights, in the market square inside the city's main gate. It was 14 April, in the early afternoon, when the Countess Vivian got to meet Lord Sperrin de Faal, the commander of the force, whose traveling entourage of noblemen and ladies and knights errant and pages and squires and craftsmen and servants and courtesans was several times larger than Vivian's court. He was suave but not handsome, forty or so, a veteran of several battles, all of which his side had won, in all of which his side had had the unquestioned advantage. He did not brag, though his underlings bragged enough to cover him as well. Though they spoke together for half an hour at least, Vivian could not afterwards think of any information of value that had been exchanged, except for this: the Farlainers had brought their own wine.

By the evening of the next day, the Avars had taken note of the new situation and removed themselves northward up the valley. This was the cause of much rejoicing in Vonnis, but also of a council meeting on the morning of the sixteenth, in which optimism was carefully balanced by suspicion. The usual ministers and lords were joined by Lord Sperrin de Faal and two of his associates, and by Keven Atspruce, a gangly hill-country shepherd who was one of Thane Horst's most expert scouts.

"They made bivouac about twelve miles north of Vonnis, along the slopes," he was saying, "but it appears to be just a temporary camp. They are not preparing to cross the river today, but they might cross where our scouts do, at the deep ford about thirty miles up."

"Let's assume that's their plan," said Sir Everard. "Or at least that they will go to the deep ford and wait to see what we do. They could do us a lot of damage still, crossing over."

"Then the sensible thing to do," said Lord Sperrin de Faal, "is to send at least some of our troops to shadow them."

"The cataphracts are the logical choice," said Francis Weaver.

"I agree," said Sir Everard.

The Countess looked dubious. She was imagining Angeline's complaints. "We have only twelve hundred horse," she said. "There are seven thousand Avars. I don't like those odds."

"Believe me," said Sir Everard, "a thousand with bows could hold the deep ford against ten times as many."

"I think you're exaggerating slightly," said Sir Rogier, "but at any rate the crossing would be costly, and the Avars are not eager to throw away their lives, as the Rugians often seem to be."

"But why not send the Farlain troops?" asked Vivian.

"By all means," said Lord Sperrin, "let's send my knights along too. But if the enemy's on horseback, there's no sense sending infantry; the Avars will just run rings around them. No, my dear countess, my counsel is thus: let my stout infantry guard your capital while your cavalry and mine, a thousand of each, go forth to persuade the Avars."

"And you all affirm," said the Countess, "that two thousand is enough? I think it prudent to leave at least two hundred of our cataphracts to cover any possible crossing south of Vonnis."

No one showed any sign of dissent. "My lady," said Sir Everard, "we will give them explicit instructions not to engage in any fair fights."

She looked at Weaver. "You promise to fall back if they cross the Deep Ford ahead of you?"

"I promise, my lady."

"Is there any problem, uh, with cooperation with your counterpart?"

Weaver looked at Lord Sperrin de Faal, who looked back at him and then at the Countess. "My respected knight Sir Pelleth d'Olari will be in command of the knights," said Lord Sperrin. "I cannot envisage myself leaving the majority of my troops and taking the head of the cavalry, enjoyable and exciting though such an expedition is sure to be. Of course, Sir Pelleth will be under the operational command of your Marshal."

"Then it's all settled," said Neil of Gorngold.

Sir Everard turned to look at the treasurer. "You seem awfully eager, Neil."

Neil smiled back amiably. "We are not paying for this," he said. "In fact, I haven't a care in the world. The Treasury is completely empty."

Vivian remained skeptical. "The Avars are a tricky bunch," she said. "And I bet the tricks we've pulled on them still rankle. Are we sure they won't somehow appear on our doorstep again while you're off hunting for them?"

"We have ample troops, my lady," said Sir Everard. "If two thousand can hold them off at the ford, then surely Lord de Faal's three thousand can hold them off where there is no ford."

"Not to mention," said Vivian, "our thousand infantry here and at Angren."

"My lady," said Sir Everard, "we wanted to move our own infantry to Selac to persuade the remaining Rugians there to yield."

"Hmm. Well, I knew something like that would happen." She looked around. "Thane Horst, would you be at all willing to take command of the troops heading for Selac?"

"It would be an honor to lead your troops in your stead, my lady," replied the Thane of Westdubbik. "And with only a thousand, you need not fear that I might go over to the offensive."

"No, I expect not. Any other suggestions?"

"My dear lady," said Lord Sperrin de Faal, "it is wise that you send the esteemed Thane at the head of your infantry; I would also suggest that you send off another, perhaps your excellent Minister of State, to manage communications and supply from an intermediate spot: Angren perhaps, or Tarnhold. Let your Lord Consul coordinate from here."

"Well, that makes sense to me, I guess. Thank you for the suggestion. Sir Rogier, I want you to be at Tarnhold, Sir Everard here. Is that all right?"

"You're in charge," said Sir Rogier. "Maybe I can sneak off to Clatu and see my Lady Alice for an afternoon. I think I remember what she looks like."

"Complain, complain," said the Countess. "Lord Sperrin, our hearty thanks. Your duke's generosity may just get us through this crisis."

Lord Sperrin de Faal smiled back and said, "Call it enlightened self-interest, my dear lady."

"My lady," said Willd, as they stood side by side on her balcony that afternoon in the warm sun, "may I say that today you looked--"

"Yes? Yes, you may say."

But he was at a loss for words and, typically, kept his mouth shut. She gave him an exasperated smile, but her hand took his. They stood so, high above the roofs of the sloping town. He looked at her, a sheepish smile on his face. "My lady," he said, "you are beautiful."

She smiled back at him, a jest on the tip of her tongue, but she recognized that this was as romantic as he ever got. She looked into his eyes. "Willd," she said. "Willd, Willd, Willd."

They kissed. They stood back and looked at one another, and sighed in chorus, and then laughed to hear themselves. There they were standing, their hands clasped together, just looking at each other, when the balcony door swung open. It was Ellean.

"Don't you ever knock?" asked Vivian, letting go of Willd's hands.

"I'm very sorry, my lady," said Ellean, "I didn't realize that I was interrupting."

"You weren't."

"Of course not."

Vivian sighed, then laughed out loud. She was not used to the velocity with which emotions were chasing one another through her heart. "Ellean, you won't tell a soul. You promise."

"I promise, of course I do. It's covered by the promise I made to you at Tarnhold. No one. Except Angeline, of course."

"Especially not Angeline!"

"Joking! Anyway. I didn't come just to spy on you. Though," said Ellean, leaning to Vivian's ear and whispering, "I can't fault your taste."

"Well, thank you," said Vivian.

"But you said you wanted to know what the scouts were saying."

"Yes, I did," replied Vivian. "That's why Willd is here--believe it or not. News from up the Rocky River?"

"My lady," said Willd, "I left Acali a week ago, and the Rugians were behaving themselves pretty well in Selac. The farmers were worrying about the crops more and the Rugians less."

"And your, uh, friend, the Lady Sigrith?"

"There is news of her in the upper valley north of Hildiwern," said Willd unblushing. "Several clans of Rugians have settled there. The next thing on their agenda seems to be to fight amongst themselves. In any case, the rest of Siret is untouched."

"As is Selac?"

"Mostly, my lady. The merchants are still pretty spooked. You never know with the Rugians--they tend to sort of appear out of those narrow mountain valleys."

"Ivor got shot at by Rugians last month," said Ellean, "or so he claims."

"They aren't the world's greatest shots," said Vivian. "Are you seeing that jerk again? I thought you hated him."

"Anyway," said Ellean, "what I was going to say was that Ivor was riding back from Acali last week when he saw a few Rugians scouting along the Tarnver border. He says one of them shot at him."

"Sure, they could invade Tarnver," said Vivian. "But Selac and Siret are in the foreground, to them. Is there a chance that there's another big host waiting to spring out at us?"

"Oh, yes," said Willd. "There's always that chance."

"That's what makes it so lucky we've got the Farlain troops this time. The sky will know whether they're enough, of course, but think where we'd be without them." She looked out over the valley: for once the only camps she could see were those of the Farlain infantry. "Maybe in a year or two I can stop worrying about what I have to do next, and just bethe Countess for a while."

"Don't count on it," said Ellean. "It's always something, up here on the fourth floor."

"Anyway," said Vivian, "as to the Avars?"

"The guess is," said Willd, "that the Avars don't want to rule Clane, just hurt us so they can settle Bazir. That's the way the officers see it. It doesn't make me feel any more at ease."

"Me either," said Vivian.

"My question is," said Ellean, "are the Avars really going to do us more damage pillaging than the Farlainers do just carousing?"

"Pretty bad, eh? I haven't heard anything."

"Let them stay another week and the complaints will start flowing in," said Ellean. "Especially from the Vonnis women."

"And from the Vonnis guards," said Willd. "Farlainers like to fight."

"Well, then, let's beat them up. Our guards should be able to take them. But let's do it diplomatically, please."

"My lady," said Willd, "I try to stay away from fights."

"You do that," said Vivian. "I don't pay you to fight. Either of you, actually. But Ell, would you mind awfully going up to Angren and telling your sister what's going on? She needs to know that her man is on a completely routine expedition. Use those words."

"Yeah, and this way I get to hear her rants about foolish men on dangerous missions."

"You're wonderful," said Vivian. "You can take it. And Willd, since Ell's going away, you are to stay and hang around the scouts. Especially the ones scouting up the road to Skavin."

"What about the Farlain scouts?" asked Ellean.

"I don't think they'll know as much as our own people do, at least until they've been here a while, which we all hope won't be. I'm sure they know Intror pretty well from persecuting their own rebels, but most of the Farlainers have never been this far north in their lives."

"I'm sure you're right, my lady," said Willd.

They stood at the balcony for another minute, as a chill air blew up along the citadel wall into their faces. "Well," said Vivian, "my heart's at ease, but it could be more so. Is it late enough for a glass of wine?"

That evening, under a beautiful red sunset, Ellean Rain mounted up and rode off out the west gate. Vivian spent much of the evening in forced social gatherings, dining with Lord Sperrin de Faal, having wine with her Treasurer and her Lord Consul, receiving several relatives of the Duke of Farlain and getting an official late-night briefing on the general situation in which she got no information better than what Ellean and Willd had provided already. Once and once only, Lord Sperrin broached the general subject of marriage to one of the Duke's sons, and Vivian rebuffed him delicately but firmly. It seemed to be one of the rituals required by the Farlainers in the current situation. Perhaps they needed the slightest whiff something more than their obvious self-interest to stimulate themselves to help their neighbors.

Vivian was certainly not thinking of marrying anyone from away. Late at night Willd snuck back to her room, and it was in his arms that she awoke the next morning.

The seventeenth of April was flawlessly beautiful. For the Countess the morning and afternoon were that blend of dull and busy that she was finally getting used to. She reviewed the Farlain knights and Weaver's cataphracts in the morning before sending them off to defend the Deep Ford of the Lavan. The review took more than an hour, and was followed by another review, this time of the Farlain infantry. This second version was even less hasty than the first--there were more troops to meet, and these men weren't planning on moving out this very day, so no one was in a hurry. From the moment she joined Lord Sperrin de Faal to go see his proud infantry, Vivian felt the need to relieve herself, but she had to hang on for over two hours.

Once she got away, late in the afternoon, she decided to continue her examination of the treasury books. She got the budgets for the last four years from Neil of Gorngold's secretary, who seemed more possessive of his records the deeper she delved into them. Vivian had already cleared Neil of any tax-dodging: in fact, his stated revenue for his village manor had gone up a little since her father's last year, and he was fully paid.

As she sat on the balcony reading and making scribbled notes and calculations, Vivian's mind kept wandering back to Weaver and the riders, and to Thane Horst and the infantry, and she regretted not finding an excuse to go with one or the other. It was silly, she realized: these were grown men, soldiers, and not hotheaded at all, and at some point she had to trust someone else to do a good job leading her troops. Still she worried, more than any of them would ever realize, so she found herself, just as the sun was starting to slide towards the hills in the west, climbing the spiral stair to her high room and lighting the righthand candle.

Something was in the way from the start. She couldn't seem to concentrate enough to get the lefthand candle lit. It was like her headache at Tarnhold, when she had fainted, but where that had been a sudden storm, this was just the oppression of heavy cloud cover. She tried and tried, but her head began to throb and her mind seemed tired and ill-humored. Finally she blew out the righthand candle, downed the small serving of wine in her cup, put the cards back, and placed candles, cup and cards into a cloth sack just in case, as she told herself, the Avars were suddenly to swoop down on the city. She went back down to her antechamber: what a mess. Books were piled on the floor, clothes were piled on the floor, and she spied both ends of her longbow from Acali peeking up from among some blankets. She lay down on the couch, and presently the oppression lifted. Jen came in and lit the lamps, and half an hour later the two of them were sitting at Vivian's table eating a quiet dinner together.

"This was very good," said Vivian, nibbling on the bones of a daintily-roasted breast of chicken. "You can tell Marjorie--"

There was a knock at the door. Before they could do more than exchange looks, the door opened. In walked two soldiers: a tall skinny one who looked around as though appraising the place for future purchase, and a short hefty one who looked straight at Vivian. They wore Farlain insignia, blue horse badges on the shoulders of white tunics, but they had no armor; she didn't think them the fighting sort.

"What's this?" she asked. "Are you lost?"

"My lady," said the short one, "we have been ordered by Lord Sperrin to take you under our protection."

"Whaaat?" Vivian wondered if the Avars were in the city. Thank goodness the Farlain troops were here! "Is there an attack?"

"You're under our protection," the soldier repeated. "Lord Sperrin's orders."

"Oh, good," said Vivian vaguely. "Actually, we've considered moving out, at least until the situation stabilizes. Maybe we should go see Lord Sperrin."

"Sorry," said the soldier, "but Lord Sperrin's orders are that you stay right here. I'm sure he'll let you know when he wants to see you."

"Whaaat?" Vivian put two and two together, took them back apart and put them together again: it was still four. She glanced at Jen, who was not hiding her nervousness well. "Well, let me send Jen out for more wine, at least."

"Sorry," said the soldier, "orders."

"Orders? What do you mean, orders?" Who was Countess here anyway?

"I'm sorry, my lady," replied the short soldier. The tall one avoided her eyes.

Vivian stewed for a full minute. She stared at the soldiers, but she couldn't read them: there seemed to be a heavy haze on her mind's eye.

There was an utter silence in the citadel. Not only was there no sound of Avar pillage, it seemed as though even the normal sounds of the city were stilled. For a long moment the four of them shared that space, breathed that air, waited for something to happen, catastrophic or mundane. The mundane won out: they heard a man climbing the stairs, whistling, his steps stopping outside Vivian's door. The two soldiers turned and looked at the door. There was a knock. The short one looked at Vivian.

"Come in," she said.

William Willd walked in. He had a flower in his hand--a daffodil from the Citadel courtyard. The two guards pulled out their sabers.

"Who are you?" asked the short one.

"I'm the Countess's errand-rider," he replied. "William Willd. Who are you?"

"It's not yours to ask," said the short one.

So they stood for another long moment, the two soldiers pointing their sabers at the man with the daffodil. Jen sat frozen. Vivian fumbled with something on the floor.

A short, soft sound interrupted the tableau. The short soldier turned around to look, but the thing that was bothering him was now behind him. It was an arrow in his back. He fell on the floor and said no more, though he did in fact take several hours to die. The other soldier didn't know what had happened until it happened to him, although his demise was faster: Vivian's arrow went through his stomach and pierced his aorta, and he bled to death within a minute.

"No time to talk," said Willd, transformed. "They've captured Sir Everard and some of the others, they have Edgar, I know. One of your guards, Stephen, he's down by the stable with horses. The Farlainers are all over."

"Willd," said Vivian, "what's--what's?"

"My lady," he replied, grabbing her waving hand, "they're taking over."

"One moment," said Vivian. "Jen, grab what you can. I'll be back in a second." Before Jen and Willd could gainsay her, she was out and up the spiral stairs to get the sack with her cards and her goblet and the candles. When she came back down, Willd and Jen were fidgeting by the door of her bedroom.

"I got your jewelry and your big bag," said Jen.

"And these account books," said Willd. "You want them?"

"Yes," said Vivian, "put them in this bag." He did, and she let him carry the bag as he led them down the back steps and out the door by the stable. Farlain soldiers were much in evidence in the square, but the three found the stable door guarded only by one of Vivian's own.

"My lady!" hissed the guard Stephen, holding Finesse's reins. "Your horse."

"Are you all that's left of my guard?" asked Vivian.

"Oh no, my lady. There's John Atwood coming, and his wife, at least. We were relieved by the Farlainers, an hour or so ago, but there's a lot of us hung about."

"Well," said Vivian, "let's not hang about now."

Two figures clad in grey came out of another door of the citadel and walked casually along the wall to the stable. They came in, then bowed their heads on seeing Vivian in the shadows. "My lady!" they said in unison.

"John Atwood," whispered Vivian, "and Marian, my tailor! I didn't know you two were married! Any others coming?"

"Harald Haraldson," said Marian Atwood, "and his brother Wulf."

"I hope they're in a hurry," said Jen, who was looking out the door. "More Farlainers are coming in the front gate now."

"My lady," said a man who burst in panting from the other side of the stable, "you're alive!"

"As yet," said Vivian. "Harald?"

"And Wulf," said Harald. His brother came up next to him, still panting too hard to talk. Harald explained, "We were chased through the main hall. The Citadel's crawling with them."

"Orders from Lord Sperrin," said Vivian. "Any others coming?"

"My lady," said Jen, "there are five Farlain soldiers coming this way."

"All right," said Vivian, climbing into the saddle, "everyone grab a horse, any horse. Jen, you get that one."

"What? I couldn't."

"Jen, I want you on that horse. Now. It's Lord Sperrin's."

"Hah?" Marian Atwood was saying to someone outside. "Noo, nowt 'round heah. Maybe up by th' daw yahd." Grumbles were heard, but marching feet turned away. John Atwood pulled his wife up into the saddle--their chosen steed belonged to a fat Farlain lordling and had ample room for two. Mounted up at last, the eight, on seven horses, sauntered out of the stable into the evening light.

The square was full of Farlain infantry, so they turned west and rode through the high part of town toward the Angren gate. The value of looking like one knows what one is doing proved itself again as they got that far without being challenged, and got too close to be stopped by the five Farlainers manning the gate. The riders rode them down and fled into the evening. They were down the hill and around a hedge-lined bend before they halted.

"Thank you," said Vivian, "you're true soldiers of Clane. Yes, you too, Jen."

"My lady," said Marian Atwood, "if you can't depend on your people when you need them most, what good are we?"

"I thank you anyway," said Vivian. She looked back toward the town. "Damn it! They got us to send all our troops out of town first, then they just took over. Damn it, damn it, damn it!" She scowled back at the walls of Vonnis, which she could just see over the hedge. The sun was setting over the Rocky Valley, and its horizontal rays lit the trees and towers of the town. Suddenly she saw it: the city in flames, orange and yellow, rising high into the night. But the vision passed, or returned to what it had been, just another glorious sunset smiling upon blameless Vonnis.

"Willd," she said. He rode up next to her. "You're the only one I can send. You have to find Weaver, tell him to extricate himself and come as swiftly as possible to Angren. He'll have to keep up in the hills. Tell him to cut north of Bald Mountain."

"Yes, my lady."

"I'm going to Angren tonight, then on to Nikolad. Tell Weaver--strictly in confidence." She turned to the others. "I have no secrets from any of you," she said. "We are going to Nikolad in the western hills of Westdubbik."

"We should ride on, my lady," nagged Stephen.

"I know. Just a minute." She jumped down, tugged on Willd's leg. He dismounted too, and she grabbed him and hugged him tight. Tears sprang to her eyes. He kissed her fervently; she whispered, "Be careful!"

"You too," he whispered back. They took one more long look at one another and remounted, and then he was off.

"Let's go," she said to the others.

Less than an hour later they came to Angren. The stars were already springing out in the sky. The gates of Angren, such as they were, had not been closed in recent memory, nor were they now. There were no soldiers about, only a few people standing in the empty market square talking and looking at the sky. The embers of a glorious sunset were fading still. Blameless Vonnis was pretty and a bit grand; age-old Angren was pretty without grandeur. Vivian realized that Angren could not yet have heard the news: that this group of riders was the first to reach it with word of what had happened, the first light of a bad day.

They rode through town to Rain Hall just outside the farther, westward gate. Here there was a Clanish sentry, but Vivian didn't feel like stopping to talk. The seven riders and their six horses turned into Angeline's gravel path and came to the house as the last few stars took their places in the clear moonless heaven.

"We'll take care of the steeds, my lady," said Harald Haraldson, as he and his brother dismounted from Farlain warhorses.

"And I'll keep an eye out for Farlainers," said Stephen, still mounted.

"I think we have them beat for now," said Vivian. She dismounted. "Come, Jen, let's go see if the Rain sisters have plans for the evening."

They went up the steps and Vivian discovered that she had never in her life knocked at the outside door of a house. Jen did the job for her this time, and it was Ellean who answered. "Jen!" she exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing here? Oh. Sunspots. My lady!"

"Ellean," said Vivian, "we need to have a talk."

A few minutes later they were seated around the dinner table: Vivian, Ellean, Angeline with Jack in her lap, and Marian and John Atwood; Jen and Martha were in and out bringing food. The Haraldson brothers were tending to the horses, while Stephen had been detailed to inform Lord Armand of the Countess's presence in town. Vivian was still trying to come up with a word for what had happened.

"It was just an invasion," she was saying. "An invited invasion. Foreign troops in Vonnis, Farlainers barging in giving orders. To me! Giving orders!" Suddenly she burst out crying.

"Wow," was all Ellean could say.

"They had it all clearly planned out," said John Atwood. "They had us relieved, and their men just took over."

"They sure did," said Vivian. "They cut us up like a hunter cleaning a kill. First, send the cataphracts off northward, then send the infantry off westward, make sure I have none of my most trusted ministers with me." Her voice wavered and tears streamed down her face, but she was regaining control. "Thank goodness Sir Rogier was out of town. They'd have thrown him in the dungeon first thing. And Thane Horst. Sir Everard! What about him?"

"Countess," said Angeline, "what about Francis?"

"I sent Willd off to him with the news. With any luck, he'll be able to get out long before they expect him to hear."

"But Countess! How could you send him off like that with--I mean what if they--if anything happens--"

"Angeline!" Ellean shouted. "Get a hold of yourself! Did she know when she sent him off that any of this was going to happen? And didn't she send Willd, Willd of all people, off, at risk of capture and death, to get him out of there? After all that's happened, honestly!"

"Sorry," said Angeline.

"I am too," said Vivian. "I wish I hadn't sent him off with those Farlain knights. They must have something planned for him. But Willd will get there in time. He rides fast, he knows those hills, and--and he's not dumb, he won't do anything dumb." She sobbed a bit more.

"It'll be all right," said Ellean, taking Vivian's hand and caressing it. "You still have us. We'll never desert you."

"She's right, my lady," said Jen, leaning over Vivian from behind to take her other hand. Vivian dried her eyes on Jen's dress. "And you know you really ought to eat something."

Vivian picked up a piece of bread and began buttering it with a fierce resolve. Her dinner had been rudely interrupted. Thinking of it, with a mouth full of bread and half the slice in her hand, she burst out, "They just walked right in. They hardly even knocked."

"The gall," said Angeline. "Invaders should show more courtesy. What did you do?"

"I shot them," said Vivian. She stuffed the rest of the bread into her mouth and went on eating whatever was close at hand--cheese, some apple pastry, slices of cold roast beef. Jen cleared her throat and told the story of their evening at Vonnis.

As she did so, other folk showed up and crowded around. They listened to Jen, standing behind the Countess's chair, as the Countess ate and the rest of the room gasped and muttered. "Lord Sperrin's orders indeed," they repeated indignantly. "Barging in on her dinner! An outrage." And in spite of all they had heard of Countess Vivian's exploits, the listeners seemed a little taken aback by her shooting the soldiers. "You just shot the guy?" asked Angeline.

"What was I supposed to do?" replied Vivian through a mouthful of pastry.

"And the other one? The tall one?"

"Right in the stomach," said Vivian, pointing to her belly.

"My lady," asked the newly arrived Lord Armand, "whom did you shoot in the stomach?" He thought she was telling the tale of her battle near Acali, a tale he had heard several times that month from Ellean. The Countess explained to Lord Armand the events of the last several days, his face becoming graver and graver. At last he said, "My lady, you have a home here in Angren for as long as I am Lord."

"And as long as Rains still live at Rain Hall," said Angeline.

"That may not be much longer," said Vivian. "There are three thousand infantry under Farlain colors at Vonnis, what, twenty miles away, and at least a thousand cavalry close at hand. They know I came this way, and I'm sure they won't want me to remain at large. Our own troops are scattered and distant: some at Acali, others north of Vonnis, some at Tarnhold, but not enough to challenge three thousand. They will come in force to Angren, and there's nothing I or you can do to stop their arrival. Within two days. They'll be imprisoning my ministers, and I don't think they'll let such dangerous hotheads as Angeline and Ellean Rain get away."

"So what do you want us to do?" asked Angeline.

"We'll leave tomorrow morning for Tarnhold. Tarnver and Westdubbik are still ours. I'm headed for Nikolad. My new home, forsooth. I advise you two to come with me."

"What about Francis?" asked Angeline.

"He'll follow as soon as he can. May the Sun light his way out, and ours too, while we're thinking of it. Lord Armand, I have one boon to ask of you. Let no one know that we are headed for Nikolad--except for Lord Weaver and his men, and of course my errand-riders and my ministers."

"My lady, I am your servant," said Lord Armand. "As for our new enemy, well, we are not accustomed to war, but this night the gates shall be shut and manned. Angren will not bow to the tyrant, not while there is a drop of my blood unshed."

"No, no," said Vivian, "none of that, please. No, what you have to do is keep Angren safe, even when they come here and occupy it, and keep yourself safe if you can. That's going to be hard enough. And I'll need everyone I can get, but not now. Not now, but later. Because I will tell you this for sure. This is not acceptable."

End of Book One

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