Brightly Burning

took Lan's shoulders in both his hands, and turned him around to face the crowd. This was very like being on that high platform in the city square—and very unlike, for these were all people who had no doubts about him. All the smiling faces peering up at him, spreading out in a human carpet down the hillside, made him feel so wonderful he could hardly stand still.

'Fighters of Valdemar!' the Lord Marshal declaimed, his voice carrying easily to the farthest man. 'Here is the partner that you have so desperately needed to drive the Karsites back to their own land! While you conquer their armies, here is the gallant Herald who will see to it that their foul demons and insidious trickery can do you no harm; that their vile monsters are sent flying back into the faces of those who would use them against you! I give you Herald Lavan Firestorm!'

Dizzy with exhilaration, Lan thought the cheering would never end.

*

LAN bent over the map table with the others, intent on the reports of scouts and Heralds with FarSight, although he hardly felt as if he belonged there. After all, what was he doing, the youngest Herald in the Circle, in company with the Lord Marshal and all the Commanders of the army? No one else even gave him a second glance, though, so he held his tongue and tried to concentrate on the reports like everyone else.

There were charcoal braziers going in all four corners of the tent and the flap was shut right, but it was still cold in here. The white canvas moved in the wind, belling inward and outward again. The Lord Marshal's cot and chests were pushed back against the rear of the tent, giving everyone room to stand around the map table.

Everyone except Pol, that is, whose continued weakness left him sitting while the rest stood.

'The main force of the Karsite army appears to be here,' Herald Fedor said, marking a rough oblong on the map on the far side of White Foal pass with his finger. 'Right at the moment, they don't seem too keen on trying the pass a second time. I haven't seen any more of those new priests of theirs—'

'That doesn't mean that they aren't there, however,' the Lord Marshal rumbled, though he did look fairly well satisfied with the current situation. 'Best guess from the ForeSeers?'

'Is that they'll move eastward, along here,' Fedor replied, tracing a path along the back of the mountain ridge divided by the pass. 'You can see that there's a small river running along here, enough to cut a long valley without too many obstacles, and there's something of a roadway beside it. It's not the easiest place to take a major force, but it's the best they're going to get. That's what the two with Foresight think.'

'I wish it was what they knew, but beggars can't be choosy about what they get,' Commander Releigh sighed. 'Well—look at this, if they come along this route here, can they come through at us here?'

His finger stabbed down at a minor pass, one that came out in a heavily wooded area on the Valdemar side, marked only as Pine Forest. Lan noted thankfully that there didn't seem to be any major habitations there, not so much as a village.

All eyes went to the chief scout, who pulled at his lip, then nodded. 'It does go though to their route, if that's the one they take, and it's wide enough at that point to bring them through in numbers. Odds are they aren't going to give up, not at this point. For all they know, it was their own priests that did something wrong, and not something we did.'

The Lord Marshal grimaced. 'And they can make better time than we can to get to that pass; their route is shorter, with fewer obstacles in the way. Damn. Well, pass the word, we'll march in two candlemarks. Are we dealing with anything between here and there?'

'Some pockets here, here, and here,' the scout pointed. 'Maybe more; we'll find them before they know where we are.' He sounded confident, and Lan knew that he should be; the Valdemaran scouts had yet to be detected by the Karsites, and brought far more information than the couple of FarSeers, who had to concentrate on areas where they already knew were worth spying on.

'Young Lavan—' the Lord Marshal said, turning to him, somewhat to his surprise. 'I want you to work with Fedor and Scout Calum, here, while we're on the march. You're going to be our—catapult. Our way of getting at someone entrenched. If any of those pockets of Karsite force are well-entrenched, I'd rather deal with 'em at a distance than winkle them out like snakes in a crevice.'

Lan saluted the Lord Marshal, as he had seen other Heralds do, with a quick snap to attention and a nod. 'Yes, my Lord,' he replied simply. 'I'll need Herald Tuck as well. I can't Mind-speak while I'm—ah—working.'

'Take him,' the Lord Marshal replied simply, and waved Lan, the other Herald, and the chief scout off, as he and his Commanders got back to detailed battle plans.

Lan didn't at all mind being dismissed; he followed Fedor and Calum out of the tent and into the sunlight. Fedor took his elbow and pointed at a Companion near to a tent on the upward slope of the next hill. 'We're over there; make sure there's someone assigned to handle your tent and supplies, then meet us there. And bring the other boy as well.'

'Yes, sir,' Lan replied, and the scout and Herald hurried away. Already the camp was a sea of activity as tents were broken down and supplies packed up. He ran to the tent he shared with Pol and Tuck.

Word had already been passed, and the Lord Marshal's own chief servant was at the tent with a couple of other servants, packing things up for them. Pol and Satiran were with the Commanders, of course, but Tuck and the other two Companions watched the packing with interest.

'Hey, Tuck!' Lan called, waving, as he ran towards them. 'We've got an assignment!'

Tuck's face brightened, and he jumped up into his Companion's saddle; Kalira cantered down the hill towards Lan, who mounted on the run. He was secretly pleased to be able to accomplish the maneuver, especially in front of an audience.

:With a little help from me, of course.:

:Of course!: he acknowledged, as Kalira paused just long enough for Tuck to catch up. Then they loped through the encampment, which now seethed with activity, heading for the Scout camp.

Fedor and Calum and the rest of the scouts who were not currently out on patrol waited for them there, at the edge of the main encampment, supervising the final pack up of their own belongings, such as they were. Scouts tended to pack lightly.

The scout contingent was a very mixed bag. There was Calum, who looked like most of the career fighters in