“No one told me you were coming,” Hasos said.
“That’s unfortunate,” Aoth said. “But the war hero didn’t decide until a few days ago, and then no one could bring word faster than we griffon riders travel ourselves.”
“How much meat do those beasts eat?” the baron replied.
“Lots.”
“And is it true they need to be stabled away from horses?”
“That depends on how fond you are of the horses.”
The baron scowled. “And then, when the rest of your sellswords arrive, I have to house and feed them as well. Winter’s just ended. Food is in short supply. I-”
Aoth tipped his spear so it leaned over the table between them, casting its shadow on the maps and documents there. He drew a little crackling flare of lightning from the point. Startled, Hasos flinched.
“I don’t need you to remind me of the time of year,” said Aoth, “or that your people have the same needs as mine. Together, you and I will see to it that everyone has a full belly and a roof over his head.”
Hasos made a spitting sound. “It’s easy to give assurances, often hard to follow through.”
Aoth took a deep breath. “Milord, I’m not sure why you’re giving me such a cold welcome. Maybe because I’m a mage, or a Thayan. Maybe just because you’re used to being the only one giving orders inside these walls. But I don’t care why. I don’t need to. You’ve seen I carry credentials from the war hero, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll honor them.”
He wished those documents gave him complete, incontrovertible command of the local defense. They didn’t. They ordered Hasos to provide food and shelter for the Brotherhood, but beyond that merely urged him to cooperate with Aoth.
It was stupid to muddle the chain of command that way, but Aoth had gotten used to it. Monarchs often hesitated to give a coin-grubbing outlander sellsword clear authority over their own chivalrous homegrown nobles, lest the latter take it as an insult. No doubt Chessentan lords would particularly resent deferring to a man with arcane gifts.
Hasos made a sour face. “Of course I’ll honor Shala Karanok’s writ.”
“Glad to hear it. As you’ll be glad to hear that as much as possible, I mean to put the burden of feeding my men and animals on Threskel. The problem is, these”-he waved a hand at the several maps-“are short on detail. I need you to tell me where to raid.”
Hasos shrugged. “How should I know?”
Aoth frowned. “Surely you conduct your own raids, milord. Surely you at least scout.”
“Naturally, my rangers keep watch along the frontier. But I need all the troops I have just to defend my own lands.”
“Well, I assume defense includes chasing marauders back across the border.”
“Certainly.” Hasos hesitated. “But the pursuers know not to go too deep into enemy territory. They can’t risk blundering into a trap or leaving our own fields unprotected for too long.”
Aoth closed his eyes for a moment. “With all respect, milord, you’ll never gain the upper hand playing such a passive game. When Threskel commits an outrage, you need to punish them. They have to finish worse off than they started.”
Hasos laughed a joyless little laugh. “That sounds sensible. But have you ever been inside Threskel?”
“Once, briefly.”
“Apparently so briefly that you didn’t pick up on what a dangerous place it is.”
“I lived and fought in Thay, milord. I doubt I’ll be impressed.”
“How many dragons did you kill in Thay?”
Aoth smiled. “That’s a fair hit. Not many, I admit-and like any sane man, I have a healthy respect for them. Still, we need to retaliate.”
“It’s possible the raids are just the precursor to an actual invasion.”
“More than possible. The war hero and Lord Nicos think it’s very likely.”
“That means we should conserve our strength for the siege to come.”
“No, it gives us even more reason to strike first. We can gather intelligence. Steal or destroy supplies and kill soldiers before the Great Bone Wyrm has a chance to use them against us.”
“You do what you like,” Hasos said. “But I won’t lend any of my troops to such a mission.”
Aoth swallowed a bitter retort. “I understand. You have to do what you think prudent. Can you at least lend me a couple of horses?”
FIVE
19-28 TARSAKH THE YEAR OF THE AGELESS ONE (1479 DR)
Gaedynn disliked riding horses. He liked the animals themselves well enough, but he preferred to refrain from an activity unless he did it well. And he’d never learned to sit a horse with exceptional grace or skill. His elf captors hadn’t kept such animals, and after his release he’d generally ridden griffons.
But a griffon would have been far too conspicuous a mount for a spy, especially since griffon riders were about to start raiding Threskel. Gaedynn’s black mare and Jhesrhi’s paint gelding were the next best thing. Even in an impoverished, sparsely settled land, horsemen weren’t rare enough to attract a great deal of curiosity, and the animals would help them complete their fool’s errand and escape back across the border quickly.
He studied the terrain ahead, rolling scrub dotted with the occasional stand of trees. A cold wind out of the north made him squint and drove stinging rain into his face. Bunched, gray-black clouds and flickers of lightning suggested it was raining harder in the direction they were traveling.
He glanced over at Jhesrhi. Wrapped in a drab hooded cloak that did a fair job of hiding her shining hair, amber eyes, and the other aspects of her exotic comeliness, she could have been any commoner traveling for any mundane reason. Bundled in cloth, her staff might have been the central support of a wayfarer’s tent or even a fishing pole.
“I wouldn’t be averse to more cover,” Gaedynn said.
Jhesrhi didn’t answer. He wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t said a word since they’d set forth from Soolabax. But he was getting tired of journeying with a mute.
“Do you think we’ve crossed the border yet?” he asked, and then waited for her reply.
Which didn’t come.
“Good point,” he said, just as though it had. “There probably isn’t a clearly defined boundary. Who would bother to survey this dreary kingdom? And where would you find a Chessentan with the requisite knowledge? If they’re ignorant enough to fear magic, they’re likely deathly afraid of mathematics as well.”
He paused. She didn’t answer. He started to feel genuinely annoyed. Or perhaps concerned.
Either way, it tempted him to provoke her just to elicit some sort of reaction, even if the words picked at his own scabs too. “You know, I’ve been pondering what possessed Aoth to send the two of us on this mission. Of course, I remember what he said. I know how to uncover secrets in the wilderness and civilization alike. You’re a wizard. Together we, and only we, have the necessary skills.
“Still,” he continued, “with Khouryn headed south, this leaves the old man without any senior officers at all. In normal circumstances he would have balked at that, no matter what the object. I think sweet Lady Firehair came down from the moon and whispered in his ear. She heard you say it would never work for us to run away together, and she decided to prove you wrong.”
Jhesrhi still didn’t answer.
Now Gaedynn knew he was more worried than otherwise. He erased the grin from his face and the teasing edge from his voice. “What’s wrong, buttercup? I thought I understood why Luthcheq bothered you. By the Black Bow, I’m not even a wizard, and it bothered me too. But we’re out of there now, and you’re still upset. If anything I’d say you’re feeling worse.”
“I’m all right,” Jhesrhi muttered.
“The statue speaks! Astounding! But plainly you’re not all right. Tell me what the problem is.”
“No. You just want me to break down because you think that while I’m weak, you can take advantage of
