Harshini

“Does Damin have any idea?”

“Of course not! He's a man. They never notice that sort of thing. And it doesn't really show yet.”

“Don't you think you should break the news to him before someone else does?”

“And give him the idea he has some sort of claim over me? I don't think so!”

“Adrina, it's his child too. And you are married to him.”

“That's beside the point.”

“That is the point.”

“R'shiel, don't you understand what will happen when I tell him? The first thing he's going to do is surround me with so many bodyguards I'll be lucky if I can see daylight through them. Then he's going to lock me away somewhere 'for my safety' so that the child will be protected. Then he'll strut around crowing like a rooster because he's proved his manhood.”

R'shiel laughed. “So what are you going to do, Adrina? Carry on as if nothing is amiss while your belly swells to the size of a large melon?”

“I don't know what I'm going to do, I...” She stopped mid-sentence, interrupted as Mikel slipped through the door.

“What is it, Mikel?” R'shiel asked, puzzled by the expression on the child's face.

“The High Prince requests your presence in the Great Hall, my Lady. You too, Your Highness.”

“The High Prince?” Adrina asked curiously. “You mean Prince Lernen is here?”

“No, Your Highness, it's Lord Wolfblade. He requests you attend him. The news has just come from Greenharbour. High Prince Lernen is dead.”

Adrina turned to R'shiel, her eyes wide with shock.

“Long live the High Prince Damin,” R'shiel murmured softly.

CHAPTER 15

“We have to move from here and the roads are still blocked,” Tarja announced, leaning over the map that Denjon had spread out on the table in the cold, dank cellar of the tavern in Roan Vale.

“Move? We only just got here,” Linst pointed out testily, shifting the lantern on the table so he could study the map more easily. The ventilation was poor in the crowded cellar and the lantern smoked badly. Tarja squinted through the stinging haze and scowled at the other captain.

“Take a look outside, Linst. Between your men, those who joined us in Testra and the men I got away from the border, there's close on two thousand men out there now. We're too big a target. We can march some of the men across the border, the rest we have to break into smaller groups - less than twenty men to a squad. Each squad can operate independently, their only orders to get to Hythria. We can muster them at Krakandar. Damin may even appreciate the fact that we didn't march over his border like an invading army. And we have to do something about stopping the Kariens crossing the river.”

“Let them loose in squads? How do you expect to maintain discipline?” Denjon asked.

“I don't. We're going to have to rely on their training.”

“What about provisions?”

“We'll split up what we have here, after that they'll be on their own. You'd be surprised how helpful a sympathetic population can be.”

“Is that how you survived in the rebellion?” Linst asked. There was an edge of reproval in his tone that Tarja didn't much care for.

Tarja nodded. “It's the reason you could never really break us. Each squad operated on its own. It didn't know where the rest of the squads were, what they're planning, or who was in them. It's like a serpent with a hundred heads. Cut off one and the others will continue to function. If they're captured, they can't betray anyone but their own small group.”

“No Defender would betray his comrades,” Linst objected.

“Any man can break under torture. The trick is minimising what each man knows, to protect the rest of the force.”

“I still say we should fight them head on. This sneaking around, running away to Hythria, it reeks of dishonour.”

“Fight them head on? Our pitiful force of two thousand men? Do odds of five hundred to one appeal to your honour that much?”

“I would rather die an honourable death.”

“Well, I wouldn't,” Denjon laughed, trying to ease the tension. “I'd rather live, if it's all right with you.”

Tarja smiled briefly then turned to Linst. “You need to make up your mind, Linst. You can't have it both ways. Either you're with us, or you're against us.”

“Us? Don't you mean you, Tarja? Isn't that what all this is really about? You've gone pagan, haven't you? And you expect us to fight to save the damned Harshini from the Kariens.”

Tarja straightened and turned to Linst. “Who said anything about the Harshini?”

“Who said anything? Your damned sister, or whatever she is these days, is one of them! Don't think me a fool. How long have you known they were in hiding? How long have you been protecting them?”

“You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Then enlighten me, Captain. Tell me how you came to be in the company of two Harshini, one of whom we always considered your sister. Tell me how you survived a wound that would have killed any other man. Tell me why we are risking our necks. Is it really to save Medalon? Or is it because you know the Kariens will ensure the Harshini are eradicated completely this time?”

Tarja fought down the urge to throttle Linst where he stood. He was not the only Defender who felt that way. He was merely giving voice to a sentiment that was rapidly spreading through their forces, a situation not helped by the pagan rebels who had flocked to their banner. Tarja swallowed his annoyance and took a deep breath. This problem had to be dealt with, and the sooner the better.

“What I think about the Harshini is irrelevant, Linst. So is what the Kariens plan for them. My only concern at the moment is to get across the border so we can mount a counter-attack. There are no Harshini here and I'm not expecting any. But there is a Karien army marching on the Citadel, and a First Sister who is issuing their orders. We can decide what to do about the Harshini when we've gotten rid of the Kariens. Until then, I don't intend to waste my time arguing with you about it.”

Before Linst could answer, the cellar door opened and Mandah entered, followed by a civilian dressed in rough farmer's clothing. The man looked at the Defenders with barely disguised suspicion then turned to Tarja.

“Good to see you again, Cap'n,” he said, revealing a mouth full of broken teeth.

“You too, Seth. What news do you have?”

Seth had been a rebel long before Tarja had joined their cause. Tarja knew him for a reliable and steady man, not prone to flights of fancy the way the younger men were.

“The Kariens moved south from the border 'bout two weeks ago. They're headin' straight for the Citadel by the looks of things.”

“And the Citadel? Any news from there?”

“Aye. There's been a stack of new laws issued. Not bad ones, mind you, but odd, if you know what I mean.”

“Odd, how?” Denjon asked.

Seth glared at the officer, but did not answer.

“You can trust him, Seth,” Tarja assured the rebel.

Seth hesitated for a moment longer before he spoke. “There's a Karien advising the First Sister. Squire