“The Easterners, Your Highness.”
“Easterners have invaded the Empire?”
“They are doing so even now, my lord.”
“How many of them?”
“Two or three thousands, my lord.”
“Where are they?”
“There. Your Highness can nearly see them.”
“Blood of the Horse, I do indeed. And your lady and her friends, where are they?”
“They are in front of the Easterners.”
“In front! Leading them?”
“Oh, no, your Highness. They are about to engage them.”
“What? The six of them? Against an army? Odds of three against a thousand?”
“I am certain, my lord, that they would have preferred to fight a more even battle, only—”
“Yes?”
“Well, there were no more of them, and no fewer of the Easterners, so the matter was taken out of their hands.”
“Did they not think to fall back?” said the Lyorn.
Mica frowned. “Fall back, my lord? Before Easterners? My lady and her friends never considered it.”
“Well,” said Adron, “it seems we are called upon to rescue them.”
“Not at all,” said the one called Garland.
Adron looked coldly at him, and turned to the Lyorn. “Well?” he said.
Shaltre moved a little distance away from the troops so that they might not hear him, and motioned for Garland and Adron to follow. Mica followed as well, although, because he was a Teckla, none of them paid any attention to him. When they had approached Shaltre, that worthy said, “Your Highness.”
“Well?” said Adron once more, in an even more menacing tone of voice, which did not appear to upset Shaltre in the least.
“I do myself the honor to remind Your Highness that we are on a mission from His Majesty.”
“Well, that is true,” said Adron. “Detestable as I find this mission, I was forced to set out upon it. But now, you perceive, the situation has changed.”
“Not the least in the world.”
“How, not?”
“Well, we will simply bring the Baroness back with us, and allow these Easterners to slaughter the rest, and all is said.”
“And the invasion?” said Adron, ironically.
“That is hardly your affair,” said Shaltre, “considering that Pepperfield is not numbered among your estates.”
“You would allow these Easterners to invade, merely to—”
“Obey His Majesty’s will? Of a certainty, your Highness. I will more than allow it, I will insist upon it.”
“And do you think His Majesty would approve of such a course?”
“His Majesty is not here; therefore, I must do as I think best.”
“And when I inform His Majesty of your decision?”
Shaltre looked quickly at Garland, and it seemed they exchanged a sort of communication with their eyes, for Shaltre said, “Your Highness is, perhaps, correct; I must confer with my friend to see if we can, together, reach a decision regarding what His Majesty would have us do.”
“You must live with the results.”
“Well, I know; I trust, therefore, you will permit us a moment to make such an important decision.”
“Very well; a moment.”
Shaltre took Garland aside, and, after being certain they were out of Adron’s earshot, they spoke together for some few minutes, after which they returned together.
Shaltre said, “I am afraid, Your Highness, that we have determined that His Majesty would much prefer these criminals dead—all of them, including Kaluma, who is, as you know, wanted for murder; if this requires us to permit a small force of Easterners to temporarily inhabit a few hectares of useless fields, then, well, so be it. I therefore call upon you to hold your forces here, where we will remain and witness the execution of these enemies of the state by the hands of the Eastern rabble; it will be amusing. After they are dead, we will then return to make our report to His Majesty, and if you wish to send your warriors against the Easterners at that time, well, we will not be here to object.”
“You are aware, I think, that by then they will hold the field?”
“Bah,” said Shaltre. “It is a field. An army can hold it only by occupying it; it can then be displaced by another army.”
“I beg to differ,” said Adron. “By placing a few men along the Ritmoro Levee, where the Slipknot turns and becomes wide, and then again by building and manning fortifications on Splittop Hill, that would only leave the Wood of Twelve Pines to be defended, and I suspect you will have heard of the latest battle to be fought there.”
“That is not our concern,” said Shaltre.
“What you suggest is impossible,” said Adron.
“Not at all,” said Shaltre.
“And, if I tell the Emperor?”
“That’s as it must be.”
Adron bit his lips until the blood ran, and cast his eyes again and again at the Eastern army. There is no question that five hundred years later he would, without hesitation, have disobeyed the Emperor’s orders, as he thought them, in order to do what he considered his duty. But at this time, he was still loyal; that is, he still considered that he must obey his Emperor under any conditions. He therefore called over to him an officer, and gave the command for his troops to relax, but to hold themselves ready.
He turned back, then, and looked once more at the Easterners, who, though they were moving slowly, nevertheless had closed the distance between themselves and the six individuals whom Adron could just barely distinguish in the distance. He said, “Well, what could that be?”
Shaltre said, “I do not understand what Your Highness does me the honor to ask me.”
“Do you not see someone running from us?”
“You are right.”
“It is their lackey,” said Garland, “no doubt returning to tell them that we will not save them. It’s all the same.”
In fact, Garland was right; as soon as Mica had heard the decision, he had set off as fast as he could run back toward his lady and her friends, there to give them what news he could. It is to his credit that he arrived well before the Easterners.
“What?” said Tazendra, when she saw him. “You are back?”
“I am, my lady,” he said, gasping for breath.
“Well, how have you returned without completing your mission?”
“Oh, there is no question of completing my mission,” he said.
“How, no question?”
“Well, I have done so, my lady.”
“What, you have informed Lord Adron of the invasion?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“But, then, he is several leagues away.”
“Oh, not at all; scarcely a league.”
“What?” cried all of the friends, and they looked around, and, indeed, they were able to make out in the distance the banner of Lord Adron flapping in the vigorous mountain winds.
“We are saved,” cried Tazendra.
“You are lost, my lady,” said Mica.
“How, lost? What does this mean?”
“They will not come to your aid.”
“Impossible,” said Aerich.
“Not in the least,” said Mica.
“Well,” demanded Khaavren, “tell us what has happened; and speak quickly, for you perceive that the Easterners are nearly upon us.”
“This is it, then,” said Mica, and he told all that he had heard. When he mentioned the name, “Count Shaltre,” Aerich’s brows came together, which for him was what a string of curses would be for another.
At length, when Mica had finished, Khaavren said, “So, they mean to let us die.”
“So it seems,” said Pel.
“It must grieve Lord Adron,” said Kathana.
“The Horse,” said Uttrik. “It nearly grieves me.”
“Bah,” said Tazendra, using Aerich’s favorite expression. “It is just as it was a few minutes ago.”
“T
rue enough,” said Khaavren. “Only now, we have a thousand witnesses.”
“For which reason,” said Tazendra, “we should fight all the better.”
“Those are exactly my thoughts,” said Khaavren.
“Eyes front, my friends,” said Kathana. “They are almost upon us. Khaavren, is the flash-stone ready?”
“It is.”
“And you know what to do with it?”
“Nearly.”
“Well?”
“I am to kill their leader.”
“And will you recognize him?”
“I think I already do.”
“How?”
“Do you see a white horse, and upon it a rider who sits straight in the saddle like a human, and seems, moreover, to be in advance of the regiment?”
“Well, you’re right, there is such a man.”
“I take him for the leader.”
“Well, can you hit him from this distance.”
“Cha! Without speaking first? Is this battle, Kathana, or assassination?”
“Sometimes the difference is not entirely clear,” she said ironically.
“Nevertheless, I do not like to strike from a distance, without warning.”
“Yet, with the disparity of numbers—”
“Khaavren is right,” said Aerich in a tone that indicated no further argument was possible.
“Besides,” added Pel, “they seem to be slowing down.”
“Perhaps they fear us,” said Tazendra.
Uttrik laughed. “Well, they wouldn’t be far wrong in doing so.”
“Shall we speak to them, do you think?” said Pel, addressing Aerich.
“Certainly, if they wish it,” said the Lyorn.
“Well, and who shall speak for us? For, as they have one leader, we ought to have one speaker.”
“Oh,” said Khaavren. “Allow me. For, now that I no longer face that dismal duel, my tongue is quite loose in my head, and I feel my wits to be well about me.”
“Very well,” said Kathana. “For my part, you may speak for us.”
“And I agree,” said Uttrik. “I know, in all events, that it would not be proper for me to do so, since we once held these lands, but do no longer.”
“Come,” said Tazendra, “it is decided then.”
“And none too soon,” said Pel. “For I perceive they are, indeed, stopping before us.”
In fact, the Easterner whom Khaavren had noticed had stopped the advance of his army some twenty paces from where the six humans awaited them. He studied them with a bemused expression, or at least what would have been a bemused expression had he been human. Khaavren, in turn, studied him, and likewise the brigade which rode in some twenty-five files, each file being a hundred or more deep. There seemed to be a great variety in the makeup of this army; some were very tall compared to the others (though quite short compared to humans), while others were extremely short, almost the size of Serioli. A few had light-colored hair, and some had no hair at all, while most had hair that was dark brown or black, and, in fact, many had this hair of whatever color spread over their faces, sometimes covering the lower half of the face, other times only here and there, as if cut into certain ritual patterns.
Their horses looked like many that Khaavran knew (which was no surprise, for he knew that these horses were common in the East, and, in fact, had heard that the Marquis of Pepperfield often organized expeditions into the East to procure breeding stock), except for the one their leader rode, which, in addition to being all white, and a stallion (which, if truth be told, impressed Khaavren very much), was larger and prouder than any horse he had seen before.
The Easterner himself was wide in the shoulders, and had dark hair and dark eyes, so that he looked not unlike Pel, allowing for the difference in species. His height was impossible to determine as he sat on his horse, yet Khaavren suspected he was rather short even for an Easterner. For weapons, he bore two swords, oddly slung on the same side of his belt, as if he fought with only one at a time, but desired to choose which to use on any occasion.
The unknown Easterner spoke then, to Khaavren’s amazement, in passable Dragaeran, although with unnaturally trilled r’s, g’s that sounded like k’s, w’s that sounded like v’s, and an oddly musical cadence to his sentences. He said, in the manner we have described, which we will not attempt to render here, “I am called Crionofenarr; whom do I have the honor of addressing?”
“I am called Khaavren of Castle Rock, and these are my friends, Aerich, Pel, Tazendra, Uttrik e’Lanya, and Kathana e’Marish’Chala. And allow me to say, sir, that you speak our language very well.”
“Thanks, my lord. I lived among you for some time, in these very mountains, as vassal to a certain Viscount of the House of the Iorich.”
“That must be where you acquired a name which does not offend my ears as, if you will pardon me, most names of Easterners seem to do.”
“You are right, my lord; my own name should be very difficult for you to pronounce, but I have chosen Crionofenarr because, whenever I hear it, I recall my life of servitude, and this inspires me in my task.”
“Ah. You say it inspires you.”
“Exactly.”
“And in your task?”
“Precisely.”
“But, if I may inquire, what task is this?”
“The re-taking of these lands which have been taken from us, and so nearly join my own, and for which, I assure you, we have more use than you.”
“Not at all,” said Khaavren.
“Well, and what use have you for these lands?”
“Why, to prevent you from invading us,” said Khaavren with a bow.
“And yet,” said Crionofenarr, “we have never invaded you; we have merely taken back, from time to time, a few of those fields you have stolen, for which you have no use, and yet we have great use.”
“Ah, but there it is; to one it is an invasion, to another it is merely an effort to reclaim what has been stolen. It’s all the same.”
“It is, indeed, my lord. But, now that I have told you of my affairs, tell me of yours.”
“That is only just,” said Khaavren. “What do you wish to know?”
“I wish to know, my lord, what the six of you are doing here.”
“Doing here, my good Crionofenarr? Why, we have given ourselves the honor of being here to welcome you.”
“Welcome us?” said the Easterner.
“Welcome them?” murmured Tazendra.
“Hush,” said Aerich.
“Naturally, welcome you; you are on Dragaeran soil, hence you must have come to pay homage to the Empire and to become vassals of whichever lord is in need of such service. It is a wise decision, and, not only do I welcome you, but, moreover, I salute you.” And, true to his word, Khaavren saluted the Easterner, though not without a certain amount of irony in the gesture.
“Nevertheless—” said Tazendra.
“You are insupportable,” said Pel.
“Hush,” repeated Aerich.
“I must assume,” said Crionofenarr, “that you are jesting.”
“You may observe by my countenance whether I am jesting,” said Khaavren.
“Then I must affirm that you are under a misapprehension.”
“How? You cannot be here to invade, therefore—”
“But, my lord, why can we not?”
“Well, because, as you have done us the honor to observe, there are six of us.”
“Well, and?”
“Therefore, you perceive, you are outnumbered.”
“Oh, well spoken,” murmured Aerich.
A grimace, which was probably anger, passed across Crionofenarr’s face, and he said, “We shall see who is outnumbered, and that in a few minutes.”
“Then you intend to attack us?”
“I nearly think so,” said the Easterner.
“Well, you will understand, I hope, if I do my utmost to kill you.”
“Oh, I would expect nothing less.”
 
; “In that case, when you please.”
“Now will do very well, my arrogant friend,” cried Crionofenarr, and with this he charged at Khaavren, as if to run him down with his horse.
Khaavren, however, had been waiting for exactly this, and coolly raised his flash-stone and discharged it at Crionofenarr’s head. It may be that the Easterner’s horse had more experience than its master had, or it may have been the merest chance, but the horse reared up, and so the discharge, intended for the rider, struck the horse instead, which rolled its eyes wildly and collapsed to the ground. Crionofenarr was, for an instant, pinned beneath it, but after a moment its throes caused it to roll over, and the Easterner stood. At that moment, the horse ceased its moving, and Crionofenarr knelt down next to it in an attitude of great sorrow.
There was silence, then, for a moment, and at last the Easterner stood, and, looking at Khaavren with an expression impossible to describe, said, “You killed my horse.”
“I assure you,” said Khaavren, “that I had no intention of doing so, and, moreover, that I am in despair at having killed such a fine beast. I beg you to believe that I was aiming for you.” He shrugged and dropped the now-useless stone at his feet.
The Easterner stared at the flash-stone the way a city-dweller would look at a stuffed yendi; as if, though dead, it might still have the means of biting once more. “I do believe you,” he said at last. “Nevertheless, you have killed my horse, whom I loved more than anything or anyone else, therefore, I will kill you.”
“That is only right,” said Khaavren, with a bow.
“Place yourself on your guard, my lord.”
“I will do so, directly, sir, but first, if you please, allow me to say two words to my friends.”
“You will be laconic, I trust.”
“You will be satisfied with my brevity, believe me.”
“Very well.”
Khaavren turned then, and said, “My friends, I must say that this Easterner pleases me.”
“Well,” said Uttrik. “And then?”
“You will be doing me a great favor if you will allow us to fight without coming to my aid.”
“Providing,” said Pel, “that he receives no help from his army, well, I agree.”
Khaavren glanced quickly at the proud Easterner and said, “I think he will not.”
“Very well,” said Tazendra. “Only—”
“Yes?”