Elvenborn

glow and emit a pleasant repeat­ing chime to alert him. Kyrtian always 'plated' his teleson when he wasn't using it himself; it was possible for outsiders to activate one's screen and spy on what was going on within its range if they had a key to it—like the ones he had to Lord Kyn-dreth's teleson and his mother's. And keys could be duplicated by even the weakest of mages.

With the plate in place, he turned to Gel. 'Interesting, don't you think?' he asked. 'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

'That Lord Kyndreth's own status is going up because of what you've managed to do out here?' Gel countered. At Kyrt-ian's nod, he pursed his lips. 'If that's the case, he may want you to press ahead to Moth's estate anyway.'

'So we have to think of an alternate plan.' The more Kyrtian thought about it, the less he wanted to press the Young Lords now holding the estate that Moth's husband had once owned. 'We've got to give him a richer victory. Not just the possibility, but the real thing.'

'Ah, horse turds,' Gel said sourly. 'You don't ask much, do you? Let me get some scouts out; maybe they can find us a juicy prize.'

He stalked out of the tent to round up a few of the scouts who had, in all likelihood, settled in at their campfire and would not be pleased to be sent out again. The scouts were all Elvenlords, of course—the previous commander had not trusted humans to run free and act as scouts, and Kyrtian was not going to risk any of his own people in this situation. None of them had more than the bare minimum of magic; they were Elven only by ben­efit of birth and blood. In the world of the Great Lords they were useful only as overseers and supervisors of humans and breeders of possible mates for unmarried sons or themselves. They were expendable, and often treated worse than slaves deemed to be more valuable, such as treasured concubines or skilled gladiators.

From the beginning, Kyrtian treated them with respect, and as a consequence, had gradually won their loyalty to the point where they had accepted Gel as Kyrtian's second-in-command, something no Great Lord would ever do. He took pains never to show them that he felt sorry for them, but he did. In the long story of the Elvenlords in this place, next to the history of the enslaved and abused humans, theirs was the saddest.

A chiming from the bronze plate at his elbow broke into his thoughts, and he hastily uncovered the teleson.

The craggily handsome face of Lord Kyndreth himself stared up at him, and Kyrtian made a sketchy salute. 'Hrotheran

passed on your request, and the reason for it,' Kyndreth rum­bled. 'My first thought was that the young pups wouldn't dare threaten harm to another Elvenlord or lady but—' he chuckled harshly '—my next thought was that they already have.'

'Well,' Kyrtian replied, 'yes. Frankly, we've no way of knowing if the deaths of some of the Lesser Lords on their es­tates were at the hands of revolting slaves, or of the Young Lords. They wouldn't admit it if they had killed one of us, not when they know very well how harsh the penalties will be when we defeat them.'

Kyndreth smiled without any humor. 'You show a fine grasp of reality for such a young man. I'd expected a little more ide­alism from you until this last message of yours.'

'My lord, I have studied our history since Evelon well enough to realize that honor is only for those who can afford it,' Kyrtian replied, without any expression in his voice. 'We have' the all the advantages and can afford to be honorable; they can­not, and the only reason they haven't taken such a step before this is probably because it hasn't occurred to them.' He paused and added judiciously, 'I am afraid that I have not yet detected much in the way of imagination in their tactics. I should not like to be the one to give them ideas that would not have arisen on their own.'

'Well said. Now, I'll handle the Council; you go on as you have.' Kyndreth chuckled dryly, this time with just a touch of real amusement. 'Given their past performance, it's entirely pos­sible that the puppies will panic and just abandon their strong­hold anyway when you've flanked them. Keep me informed.'

'Yes, my lord,' Kyrtian said, but the Great Lord had already broken his spell and the connection; the teleson- plate reflected only Kyrtian's own face.

It was Moth's own people, and not the Young Lords headquar­tered on her old estate, who gave her the astonishing news that Kyrtian's forces were inexplicably turning aside without trying to take the Young Lords' stronghold. She'd had the cleverest of her 'boys' out shadowing the army, and it was one of these who had come back in the dawn to report that the army was up

and away at right angles to their previous line of march. They were not merely clever, four of them had the 'human magic,' the knack of listening to the thoughts of others. When they were close enough, they were able to hear what the common fighters and even some of the officers knew, and that was invaluable.

The army was now headed, presumably, for the training-camp that the Young Lords had set up to retrain some of the gladiators that they had taken as soldiers.

'They just up and changed march, Little Mother,' the swarthy, squat young human told her, as she kept refilling his glass and his plate. The 'boys' tended to forget about eating and drinking while they were out there, and came back starved and ready to drink a lake. 'It's as if they got different orders last night.'

Lady Moth considered this information for a moment, then made up her mind. 'Lasen, on a fast horse, how long do you think it would take me to catch up to the army?' she asked. The man stared at her, understanding slowly coming into his brown eyes; his brow wrinkled with concern so that he looked like a worried hound.

He knew her; he knew better than to try and dissuade her. He didn't have to read her thoughts to know what they were— although, if he had cared to, he probably could have, since he was one of the four with wizard- powers.

He won't though; those boys think it's impolite to hear thoughts without permission, if you 're a friend. He probably wouldn't even think of doing it unless my life or his was at stake, the dear child. There was nothing in her thoughts she cared to hide from anyone these days—though when she'd been younger...

'You could catch them by sundown,' he told her, slowly. 'But the question is, can you come at Lord Kyrtian through all of his army and come away again back to us?' A fleeting ghost of fear traveled across his face then, and it was that fear she an­swered before she addressed the spoken question.

'I have no intention of abandoning all of you, my lad,' she said fondly, and tapped his shoulder in mock- admonition with the book she was holding. 'Never fear that; you and the rest are

all the family I have now, and all the family I want. I want to talk to Kyrtian, that's all; I think I can do a lot for all of us if I can just talk to him.'

Lasen looked skeptical, and Lady Moth smiled. 'Little Mother, this is the Army Commander, not one of your Young Lords.'

'He's no older than the Young Lords, my lad, and what's more, if you think I'm good to my people, you should see his! I pledge you my word for it.'

Lasen nodded slowly. Moth didn't often pledge her word; all her humans knew that when she did, she was beyond certain of what she promised. A little of the concern cleared from his face.

'As for getting in and out—' she chuckled '—no fear there, either. So long as there isn't another Elvenlord I have to outwit, I'll get in and out again.'

'I'll have Starfoot saddled and waiting—and it's myself that will come with you, then,' Lasen said, in a voice that told her that he would be just as stubborn as she on that point. She in­clined her head in tacit agreement, and went off to tell Viridina what she intended, and to change her gown for something more suited to the task at hand.

Lasen waited at the door of the stable, Starfoot and another horse saddled and ready, when she arrived, clad