Harshini

way.”

Denjon turned on the Harshini but R'shiel intervened before things could escalate into a full-blown argument.

“Why can't we just release them?”

“Because they'll be on our trail within hours.”

“No, they won't. Their Crown Prince and their Duke are dead. They'll have to go home to return the bodies to Karien, at least. They may send out a party to hunt us down later, but it won't be this lot.”

Denjon looked thoughtful. “You may be right, R'shiel, but I'm not sure I want to risk finding out the hard way that you're wrong.”

“What if I can guarantee that they'll head home?”

“What are you thinking of doing?” Brak asked suspiciously. “Coercing them?”

“No, of course not!”

“Then how do you plan to make nearly four hundred Karien knights turn on their tails and slink home?” Dorak asked. “And they have the three priests with them who were accompanying Lord Setenton. They'll demand retribution, out of spite if nothing else.”

“Don't you see? As soon as the search party realises that Cratyn is dead, they will turn around and head straight back to Karien for guidance from the Overlord, dragging Drendyn, his knights and their priests behind them.”

“It's a nice thought, R'shiel,” Brak agreed. “But the captain is right. You won't dissuade the priests so easily. You'd be better off just killing them outright.”

“How long do we have, Denjon, before the Kariens get here?”

“A day at the most, if we want to be gone before they arrive. Two days if we plan to make a fight of it. I would advise against that. The end result will just be more damned Karien prisoners we have to worry about when the next search party comes looking for them.”

She nodded slowly. “Brak, can Tarja be moved?”

The Harshini frowned. “I wouldn't advise it, but it won't threaten his life, if that's what concerns you.”

“I don't think we have much choice in the matter,” she announced, figuring that if she sounded decisive, nobody would guess how uncertain she was. “You should leave for Fardohnya, anyway. Can you get there on your own?”

Brak was watching her closely. If anyone suspected her uncertainty, it would be him. “Don't worry about me, R'shiel. The demons will see me safely to Talabar.”

“Good. Denjon, you might as well give the order to break camp. Now that Damin and Adrina are married, we need to get to Hythria.”

“And the Kariens?” Denjon asked.

“I'll deal with them.” She glanced at Denjon and frowned. “Do you have any questions?”

“I have one,” Linst replied. “Who put you in charge of the Defenders?”

R'shiel turned on him impatiently. “What Defenders, Linst? You ceased being Defenders the moment you stood back and did nothing when I killed Cratyn. You have defied your orders and taken two hundred Kariens prisoner. If you want to go back to being a lackey for Medalon's new masters, there's another couple of hundred heading this way. Perhaps you'd like to surrender?”

Linst glared at her. “Just remember, R'shiel, we are following the Lord Defender's orders. He was the one who wanted us to fight the Kariens. I'll take orders from him, but I'll be damned if I'm going to sit back and let you order us around for some heathen purpose.”

“My heathen purpose is to throw the Kariens out of Medalon, Captain.”

“There's no point arguing among ourselves,” Denjon interceded. “We've no choice, in any case. We have to move on. We can sort out the details once Tarja wakes up.”

“If he wakes up,” Linst added pointedly.

“He will wake up,” R'shiel insisted. “And when he does, perhaps you'll decide you have a backbone, after all, Linst.”

She did not wait to hear his answer. She stormed from the tent, a part of her simmering with anger; another part of her grateful for the excuse to leave. On the way out she collided with young Mikel, the boy who had followed Adrina from Karien. He squealed in fright at her sudden appearance, landing on his backside in a puddle of icy mud, dropping the tray he carried. He seemed to do that a lot, she recalled, but was too preoccupied to do more than mutter an apology as she strode past the child.

Brak caught up with her near the infirmary.

“Don't you start on me,” she warned, before he could say a word.

“I wasn't going to. I'm on your side, remember?”

R'shiel slowed her pace a little and looked at him. “I'm sorry. They just make me so angry sometimes.”

“I noticed.”

“I shouldn't let them get to me like that, should I?”

“Of course not, but you don't need me to tell you that. What I'd really like to know is what you're planning to do about those priests.”

She shrugged. “I destroyed their staffs. How much trouble can they be?”

“A lot. They may not be able to threaten you any longer, but they still hold a great deal of sway over their people.” R'shiel did not answer him. His faded blue eyes darkened for a moment and he shook his head. “You're not going to kill them, are you?”

“No. I'll think of something else.” She resumed her angry pace and continued on towards the infirmary. An icy wind blew across the plain, stirring dust eddies on the scuffed ground and making her ears ache. She missed her long hair.

“Well, you'd better come up with something quickly,” Brak called after her. “It'll take a miracle to turn that lot and time is of the essence.”

Suddenly she stopped and turned. “That's it! Brak, you're a genius!”

He stared at her in confusion. The solution suddenly clear, she ran back, kissed his cheek and hugged him briefly. “You're right! It's going to take a miracle!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I haven't time to explain,” she said, relief making her giddy.

“What are you thinking of doing, R'shiel?” Brak demanded, grabbing her arm to prevent her escaping.

“I'm going to work a miracle.”

“They won't fall for anything so transparent. Any miracle you conjure up will be dismissed as Harshini magic. You won't fool anyone, not even a bunch of knights as inexperienced as Drendyn and his friends.”

“Then I'll find someone they will believe in,” she said, pulling her arm free of him.

“Who? Adrina?”

“Of course not! I'll use... someone else... someone they'll trust...”

“Who?” Brak repeated suspiciously.

R'shiel glanced around, more to avoid meeting Brak's suspicious gaze than in any real hope of finding an answer to her dilemma. Her eyes alighted on the Karien boy, muttering miserably to himself as he picked up the shards of broken dishes that had fallen from his tray when R'shiel bumped into him.

“I'll use him,” she declared, pointing at Mikel.

CHAPTER 4

Adrina's first thought on waking the morning after she married Damin Wolfblade was: Gods, what have I done?

She had thought the same thing on waking in Yarnarrow the morning after she married the late, unlamented,