Exile's Honor

recognized him the moment she put her head out of the tent, of course. Only then was he allowed inside the perimeter they had established.

Selenay gladly put aside the plate at his entrance. There were several lamps suspended overhead here, which didn't matter, since the felt lining the walls made it impossible for anyone to see silhouettes on the canvas. He noted the arrangement of the cot in the middle of the tent—now folded—with approval. 'Is there any news?' she asked, her expression somber and a little pinched.

He shook his head. 'That I have heard, nothing. But for you, a task I have.'

She actually brightened at that. 'Good. I feel as if there is something I should do, but I can't think of anything.' She reached up and tucked a strand of hair self-consciously behind her ear. 'I don't think there are many people besides you and father who think I should even be here.'

He regarded her gravely. 'Come. Among the troops, we must walk. Speak to them, you shall, this night and every night. Of their homes and families, must you ask; speak you must as your heart tells you, to put heart in them, to put a face—your face—on Valdemar.'

'You mean, make myself some kind of mascot?' she asked, as he gestured to her guardians to take up their weapons and follow. 'Create a symbol?'

'Of a sort. Speak of Valdemar, you must; not just of the evil that comes to tear her, not of fear alone, but of hope.' Hope. He hoped she was up to this; Sendar would likely be making his own forays among the troops, but there was a limit to his time. Selenay had more of that available to her, and Selenay was a handsome young girl, golden-blond and fresh-faced, and not unlike the pretty girls the men and women wearing the uniform tabards of the Valdemaran army would see at home. He wanted to put that face on the abstract notion of 'my land, Valdemar.' He wanted them to see that their leaders served them, as much as they served their leaders. When they saw their leaders, remote and at a distance, he wanted them to remember the night this one walked and talked with them.

'But what should I say?' she asked, sounding a little desperate, as they left her tent. He motioned to the sentries to stay in place. Mounted on Companions, they were as safe as they would be in a knot of guards. Kantor waited for them; Caryo came out of her lean-to, and Alberich helped Selenay throw her saddle on her.

'Ask, first. Ask of home and family. Ask of their welfare. Then, think, and as your father would, speak.' She had spent all of her life listening to her father's speeches; it was time she learned to make some of her own. In fact, there was very little she could say that would be wrong. Her mere presence out here with the troops, asking after their well-being and their background, would be enough. She would be showing the concern of their monarch, putting a face and a voice under the crown. And word of that would spread.

They rode down the torchlit paths between the tents at a walk, so that the two bodyguards could keep pace afoot, until they came to the first campfire of common footsoldiers. As fighters did, the world around, they had gathered around their common fire, and there was talk, some rough joking, a small cask of beer to be shared. It all stopped, when two Companions loomed up out of the darkness. It ceased altogether, when they dismounted, their officer (good man! thought Alberich) recognized Selenay, and scrambled to his feet, then tried to drop to one knee. 'Highness!' he stammered, as Selenay prevented him from going down by taking his elbow and keeping him erect.

'Just Selenay—ah—lieutenant?' she replied, her cheeks going pink.

'Lieutenant Chorran, Ma'am,' he said, his cheeks pinker than hers, his eyes anxious under an unruly thatch of dark hair.

'Well, then, Lieutenant Chorran, would you make me known to your men?' she replied with admirable composure. If Alberich hadn't known this was her first foray out into an army camp, he would never have guessed it.

She stood, hands clasped gravely behind her back, as Lieutenant Chorran introduced her to every one of the round-eyed men encircling the fire. When he was done, she picked one at random. 'So, Nort Halfden—what part of the world are you from?' she asked, as if his answer was something she burned to hear.

'Boarsden, Ma'am, east of Haven,' he replied, looking as if he was having to concentrate to keep from tugging his strawberry-blond forelock at her.

'I know it; good grain country.' She smiled at him, and he looked about to faint, yet couldn't help beaming with pride. 'And perfectly lovely morel mushrooms in the forest in the spring.'

'Aye, Ma'am!' he enthused, losing a little of his shyness. 'That there be!' She gave him a nod of encouragement, and he warmed to his subject. 'Why, there's a copse just by our duck pond that—'

That was all it took; he was off about his father's farm, and that led her to single out others who looked as if they were losing their awe of her to want to boast about their own lands. A leading question or two was all it needed; she just gave them a cue, and let them run on. This lot was all farm folk, though from differing parts of Valdemar; companies were made up of men (and women, though it would have to be a sturdy wench who was in the pikes) who came into the force at about the same time, so that they all worked through training together and got to know one another well. Alberich approved of the arrangement; it created cohesiveness.

When Selenay showed interest in their lives, their homes, and their families, they swiftly warmed to her.