Isolt was silent for a moment.
'How strange,' she said. 'A warrior who hates to kill. A brave man who is afraid.'
Piro's Affinity tingled, making the foenix nudge her hand with his head.
'You'll make a good queen one day,' Piro said, with a strange air.
Isolt shivered. 'You just gave me goose bumps. Why?'
Piro shook her head and placed Fyn's jerkin on the desk. 'Let's see if we have enough material.'
Byren hid his annoyance. The warlord of Leogryf Spar had sent his nephew, a man who insisted on being called Lord Leon and had an exaggerated sense of his own importance. At least Lord Leon came promising his uncle's support.
Last night they had feasted. Today they talked tactics. Lord Leon was not like most spar warriors. Byren did not blame a man for being wary, but Leon's smile did not reach his eyes. Still, he had come with the promise of seven hundred warriors, so he had a right to his place at the council of war.
They stood around Feid's war table, Master Catillum, Orrade and Feid himself. Unistag's representative had sailed home to await Byren's call for the promised warriors.
This war table was not as finely detailed as the one Byren had grown up with. Instead of three-dimensional models the map was drawn on a square of fine vellum, stretched on a frame. Instead of delicately moulded metal inset with jewels, the pieces were carved from wood.
Lord Leon indicated Feid's spar. 'So you plan to go over the pass, take the fort and attack Rolenhold from behind?'
Byren nodded. Anyone could guess his plans. There were only so many ways he could attack. Feid went to speak but, just in case he had been about to reveal the secret pass, Byren spoke over him. 'We have four hundred men from Unistag Spar, Foenix's six hundred, my own men and the seven hundred your uncle promises. Plus, as soon as I march over the Divide the people of Rolencia will rise up.'
Lord Leon nodded, his eyes on the map. He tapped the last spar, the one that ran north from the far tip of Rolencia's crescent. 'Nothing from Manticore?'
'Nothing from Manticore, yet.' Byren felt his supporters watching him, felt the weight of their expectation. 'And nothing from Cockatrice. After Rejulas's death the warriors of Cockatrice Spar had to appoint a new leader. We've heard they have chosen one now and I expect he'll be eager to swear his allegiance.'
'And when will you attack?'
'When the moment is right.'
Lord Leon lifted his hands palm up. 'It will take days to return to Leogryf Spar, call in our warriors and return.'
'I know,' Byren said. 'I'll figure this into my calculations.' The alternative was to send for the warriors now and let them eat Feid's food set aside for summer, while waiting to attack. 'I'll let you know when I need Leogryf's men.'
'Why not call them in now?' Orrade suggested.
Byren tensed. It wasn't like Orrade to speak at cross purposes to him, especially in front of the others.
Lord Leon turned to Byren. 'Is that what you want?'
'No. I'll let you know.'
'Very well. I set sail tomorrow, to report to my uncle.'
As Feid and Catillum escorted the Leogryf warrior from the room, Byren fell behind, catching Orrade's arm. 'What were you thinking? We can't ask our host to feed seven hundred men.'
'I don't like this Lord Leon. I wanted to call his bluff. Did you see how he reacted?'
'He offered to bring the warriors.'
'Yes, but…'
'But?'
Orrade shrugged as if he couldn't explain.
'Have you had an Affinity vision?'
'No…'
Byren waited. Orrade didn't elaborate, so he strode off to catch up with the nephew of one of the stronger warlords.
Later that evening, while their men played games of dice in the castle's great hall and sang drinking songs, Feid turned to Byren. 'You didn't tell him our plan to go over the old pass and attack the fort from Rolencia's undefended side?'
Byren had just taken a mouthful of mutton and Orrade answered for him.
'Because the fewer who know, the fewer who can betray us.'
No one spoke as they watched the men eat their way through the castle's stores. It would be a lean, late summer before the crops came in. Byren was surprised Feid wasn't encouraging him to attack already.
'And besides,' Orrade muttered, 'Lord Leon has probably already guessed how we came across the Divide. I wouldn't be surprised if each spar had a secret pass.'
Byren blinked. Of course, that made sense.
Here he was, obsessed with his own problems and Orrade saw further. What would he do without him? He put his ale down and turned to Feid. 'Are there more secret passes?'
The warlord lifted his hands in a shrug. 'If there are, the warlords haven't shared their whereabouts with me.'
Byren was not surprised. Alliances between the spar warlords were short-lived and prone to betrayals. He drained his ale. Across the hall, near the stairs to the bedchambers, he noticed Florin. She beckoned and his body tightened in anticipation.
But this was not an assignation. Florin did not play those kinds of games. Whatever she wanted to see him about it would not result in him tupping her up against the wall. More's the pity. And, after the trouble he'd gone to, to ensure Winterfall and others like him didn't get the wrong idea about her, he should be ashamed to even think it.
The problem was he couldn't help his body's reaction.
Byren stood and stretched casually, glad his jerkin came down to mid-thigh. 'Think I'll turn in.'
Orrade met his eyes, not fooled for a moment. But he said nothing.
They hadn't seen much of Florin. She'd spent her days with Feid's wife, who avoided the great hall and its noisy drinking.
Byren caught Orrade's eye and nodded to Feid.
When his friend diverted the warlord with an arm wrestle, Byren slipped away, his heart pounding despite himself.
He passed the monks' table, where Catillum spoke earnestly while his men listened. It was unlike the table where Old Man Narrows sat. There, the maimed player entertained them with ribald stories, amidst shouts and laughter.
When Byren approached Florin, she backed out of the hall into the dark corner at the base of the stairs. Despite everything he'd told himself, Byren's body quickened in anticipation. He saw her only as a dark shape, her pale face surrounded by midnight hair.
She reached for him, pulling him closer. Not into an embrace, but so that her words would not be overheard. 'You can't trust the warlord!'
'I don't trust him. He says one thing, but his eyes say another. Still, he has given his word to bring seven hundred fighting men and I can't afford to — '
'Not Lord Leon. Feid!'
Byren blinked. 'Mountain-girl, you — '
She thumped his chest. 'I might be nothing but a mountain girl, but I have eyes and the wits I was born with. You asked me to watch Feid's lady.'
To keep her out of harm's way.
Florin did not wait for his reply. 'Lady Cinna has pet birds. She spends hours talking to them in her own language.'
'No harm in that. She's lonely.'
'They talk back to her.'
