The Price Of Command

She listened to them breathe for a moment. “Where’s Lord Daren?” asked a voice from the rear. Kero looked up, above the heads of those nearest her, and attempted to find the questioner.

“We lost track of him about the time he was going to cross over into the Valdemar side of the Comb, somewhere in the mountains. We don’t know what happened to him. There’s been no word of him coming up through Valdemar like he was supposed to. He could be on the way. He could have been turned back. He could have been defeated by Ancar down in the mountains. We just don’t know, so we can’t count on him being here.”

Much less being here in time. That’s the way ballads end, not real battles. They’d been in trouble before, but never this badly, and never while under her command. The weight of responsibility made her ache,

“Now, here’s what we can do,” she continued. “We’re mounted, and we’re the best hit-and-hide specialists in the business. We can break out, leave this mess behind, and head back down home. There isn’t a soul outside Valdemar that would blame us for doing that. We’re not in this for glory, or for patriotism, or because we’re fanatics.” She looked around again, and saw heads nodding. “We’re in this for the money, purely and simply, and our Guild Charter and our contract allows for this sort of thing. Ancar threw the Guild out; we know he isn’t going to accept a Code surrender from us. Probably what he’d do if we tried is kill us out of hand. He might even stick to killing the officers only, and mind-controlling you troops. I don’t think I have to go any further into that.”

She noticed one or two nearest her shuddering at the idea, and nodded to herself.

“As I said, the Code and the Charter allow for that. We can break out and go home; this is a no-win, hopeless situation. However—we won’t be able to take any wounded with us, and anyone who goes down on the way out stays behind. My guess is we’ll lose about half of our troops—the ones that are left—getting out. It’s not going to be easy, but staying here means worse odds, so far as I can tell.”

“What are the Heralds doing?” asked one of the Lieutenants. “They’re mounted, and they’re as good as we are, most of ’em.”

“Good question,” Kero replied. “They’re going to break Selenay out, if they can. It’s by no means certain; Ancar wants her hide, and if he finds out they’re breaking her loose, he’ll bring everything to bear that he has. We can use that as a diversion, of course, which makes our chances better.”

“Then what?” asked the same voice as before. “Then they’re going to turn back and rejoin the fight,” she replied, as neutrally as she could. “All but an escort force to get Selenay to safe ground.”

A murmur of surprise and admiration rose from the troopers. Some of the Heralds—Eldan, for instance—had made themselves very popular; others, like the one Eldan had replaced, were considered nuisances. But the Skybolts could not help but admire anyone with the kind of guts it took to break free of a suicide-situation, then turn and go back into it.

“That has little or nothing to do with us,” Kero reminded them forcefully. “We’re mercenaries. They aren’t. They have oaths to fulfill, and duties that they won’t renege on. We’re in this for pay. Now, the Skybolts have never been an ordinary Company, and I’ve never been an ordinary Captain. That’s why I’ve called you all here. I’m not going to make a decision like this one alone, or even with my officers. Do we try to go, or do we stay? And do I stay your Captain—”

The shouts of disapproval that met that question made her feel terribly self- conscious. “All right,” she bellowed at last, holding up her hands for silence. “All right, if you want me that badly, you’ve got me. But the other question—break out, or stay and do what we can? You know the drill; dark-colored pebble for ‘go,’ light or white for ‘stay.’ And no maybe-colored rocks, either—I don’t want any maybes on this one. Geyr will collect your votes.”

She turned and sat down, waiting for the results of the vote, keeping her mind tightly sealed against their thoughts. She didn’t want to know what they were thinking, and she didn’t want to influence it, either.

She tried not to think of anything, really. As Geyr moved out with the basket into the massed fighters someone else called out a question. “What about you?”

“I’ll be going with you, since you’ll have me,” she said. “And I’ll stay with you as far as Bolthaven; I intend to call another vote then, and see if you still want me when this is over. I have my responsibilities as much as these Heralds have, and my oaths have been made to you. I don’t intend to break them.”

She heard the murmurs, saw the looks, and knew what they were thinking as well as if she had opened her mind to them. They all knew about Eldan—quite a few of them knew about their first meeting, ten years ago. They knew what she would be sacrificing by leading them if they voted to break out, or at least they thought they did.

She ignored the murmurs, and kept her expression schooled into serenity. I made my oaths, I have my responsibilities. He knows that. It doesn’t hurt any less—but there’s no choice. Vows are made to be kept, and he would be the first one to agree.

Finally Geyr brought the basket around to her, and she steeled herself against the inevitable. How could they not vote to save themselves? Only a fool would stay here and die. So, I’m a fool. But it isn’t just Eldan.... True, the odds were only fifty-fifty that any of them would make it out in the clear, and those weren’t good odds—but when had a youngster ever thought he couldn’t beat the odds?