The rain had ceased and the sun set, but the racket of camp activity still filled the air: fires popping, horses snorting, whores moaning, and soldiers laughing and yelling. Basilides sat alone in Toli Verk's pavilion in silent contemplation. He blocked out the surrounding din as he had been taught by the elders of Liraeus when he was a boy. His body was calm, his mind wholly focused inward. Yet, he was still aware of his surroundings and recognized the oncoming sound of the Earl coughing outside. Basilides rose and was at the ready when the Earl stumbled into the pavilion with the aid of his squire a moment later.

The Earl's face was white, and he wheezed horribly.

Basilides hurried to his medicine bag and grabbed a phial of dried mandragora root. "Have him lie down," he told the squire as he grabbed a steaming kettle from the brazier he'd prepared and filled a chalice. He crushed a section of the dried root with his fingers and sprinkled it into the vessel to steep in the hot water. "Sit up and blow away the steam, my lord, then drink down the entire draught." He placed the chalice in the Earl's right hand so that he could examine and probe the Earl's left hand. The Earl did as he was told, and though his breathing remained rapid and shallow for a few moments more, the coughing ceased.

"It's the campfires, my lord," Basilides said. "The smoke irritates your lungs and gets you to coughing."

The Earl shook his head and licked the foam from his mustache with his tongue. "No. I'll tell you what irritates me: that fool Galkmeer. And Salmund Palne—such a pompous ass I've never seen! Here I've come with an army larger than both of theirs combined, and more campaigns fought than either of them, and they mean to tell me what to do."

"Do not become overwrought or the coughing will return," Basilides warned him.

The Earl took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I stand for Galkmeer's insolence because he means to marry my daughter when he's king, but he forgets himself. Without me, he won't become king. And Palne, I don't even know what to make of him. Galkmeer's promised him something—I don't know what. The Lord Chancellor has sold out his entire kingdom before it's even his."

Basilides dug through his bag for another phial. "When you are ready to rest, my lord, let me know and I will give you something to ease your sleep."

"Not yet." The Earl got to his feet. "Fetch Bennson and all my bailiffs."

The squire bowed and scurried away, leaving the Earl to pace the pavilion. Basilides deemed it best to leave him be for the moment and returned to his corner to sit and meditate.

Chancellor Bennson arrived shortly, and the squire with the Earl's bailiffs soon afterward. They discussed their marching plans for the morning, how their lines would be ordered, who would be in charge of what contingent, how far they meant to march, what each soldier's rations would be, and dozens of other details that interested Basilides little. He ignored them and lost track of how long they continued talking. When a guard entered the tent near midnight and announced the Lord Chancellor had come to speak with the Earl, Basilides was caught as off guard as everyone else.

"Bailiffs, leave me," the Earl commanded. "You have your orders for the morning."

The bailiffs filed out. Chancellor Bennson and the Earl's squire moved to stand respectfully behind the Earl. Basilides looked to the Earl to see if he meant for him to leave too, but the Earl did not look his way.

When the bailiffs were all gone, Sturm Galkmeer, Lord Chancellor of Fairnlin, entered the pavilion. He was a tall man, with long blonde hair and angular features. His nose was sharp, his cheekbones high, and his lips slanted downward in a perpetual sneer. His thighs bulged within his trousers, and Basilides was reminded of how much lower body strength it took to command a horse while wielding a long-spear and shield. Sturm Galkmeer was a man who was built to be master of horses. He bowed his head to the Earl.

"My apologies for the harsh words that were said in my pavilion, Lord Verk."

The Earl said nothing.

"I presume you can see the position I'm in," Lord Galkmeer went on. "Until I take my rightful spot on the throne, I haven't the power to take command of our armies in the manner necessary to take Hairng."

"If you'd listened to me and sent a small force on Hairng instead of mustering the entire realm first you could have taken Hairng unguarded and ridden yourself of Borkyr Ernmund and the Dowager Queen both. As it is, Audwin will beat us back to Hairng. The Lord Marshall hasn't enough troops to keep him distracted, nor Baardol."

"Well, I am listening to you now, Lord Verk," Lord Galkmeer said. "It's still my desire to take Hairng before Audwin Ernmund returns with his forces, but I am not hopeful, as you say, and I know that when we meet in battle, even with our superior numbers, I will need more unity; I will need a commander who can direct the whole of our forces."

"What is it you're getting at?" the Earl asked. "Cut to it, already."

"Lord Palne wishes to have command."

"The bastard!"

Lord Galkmeer raised his hands. "I know, I know. I've promised him nothing, however. As much as it cost me to get him on our side and get his troops this far, I've not given him control yet."

"What is it you've done, Sturm?" the Earl rumbled.

"I've told him the same thing I'm telling you. There are two northern lordlings impeding our advance on Hairng. I'm beseeching the two of you to each destroy one of them. The first of you to do so and reach Hairng will command the full might of our forces."

"Damnit, Sturm, who cares about two rat-spearing lordlings? This isn't some game!"

Lord Galkmeer moved in close to the Earl. "No, that is exactly what it is, my lord. And that's why I've rigged it."

"What?"

"I want you commanding my forces when we get to Hairng, Lord Verk. I know as well as you do that you are second to none in battle, but perhaps Bryndon Thrand himself, and as you say Thrand is likely lost to us. I want you in command when Audwin Ernmund bends his knee to me. I want you to be the new Lord Marshall when I'm king."

The Earl narrowed his eyes. "How do you mean to accomplish this?"

"Lord Palne is set to march to Baldairn Motte. With these rains, it'll take him nearly a week to get there with his army, and he's an imbecile besides. Even with his superior numbers he won't be able to overwhelm this lordling, Baldurn, within ten days or more. You, on the other hand, are charged to subdue Lord Ryndor. Most of his men are already with Audwin Ernmund and he has only ten men-at-arms to hold his lands, if that. More importantly, his lands border the River Ordan, my lord."

"How does that help me?"

"Spring has come early. The River Ordan is riding high with snowmelt. If you sail upriver, you can reach Lord Ryndor's hamlet in no more than three days. Even with a small force of ten men, say, you can take Ryndor unawares and be waiting at Hairng before Palne even reaches Baldurn. Command of our forces will be yours. Unequivocally. Palne will follow your orders, as will I. You will have the honor and glory of defeating Audwin Ernmund, you will have your daughter as the queen, and you'll have your seat as Lord Marshall."

"And while I'm gone on this fool's errand, I'm to—what?—relinquish control of the bulk of my forces to you? To Palne?"

"You may give command to whoever you wish. I assumed you would choose your own Chancellor Bennson, but Palne, myself, and every other lord will honor whomever you choose."

The Earl glared at him. "You realize how this looks—sending your two mightiest generals off on fools' errands?"

"It's no fool's errand, my lord. It's politics. Both Ryndor and Baldurn need be defeated before we move on Hairng, regardless. I'm merely accomplishing two goals at once. The northern lordlings die and you become Lord Marshall of our combined armies. Palne won't relinquish control any other way."

The Earl turned to his chancellor. "Bennson?"

"The greatest risk would be upon you, my lord," Bennson replied. "I can command the troops and march them to Hairng with little trouble."

"And you?" the Earl asked his squire.

"If we choose to go by river to Ryndor, we will not be able to take horses, my lord, but we have a score of warriors in your personal guard that are sure to outman whatever small force Ryndor has left."

The Earl was silent for a moment. "What say you, leech?"

Basilides stood. He had been listening from the corner, thinking no one realized he was there. "I would recommend against leaving the main force, my lord. Traveling in such a small group, you will not be able to bring your pavilion, nor most of the amenities needed to properly care for your lung ailment. The physical exertion of a forced march, however short it may be, combined with the rain—I'm afraid you might be stricken by a lung infection, my lord."

The Earl pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. Basilides had assumed that the Earl's illness was well known, but it occurred to him now—seeing how angry the Earl suddenly appeared—that the Earl might have kept it a secret, not wishing his competitors and potential enemies to have any knowledge of his weakness.

"If you are unfit for such travel, I understand," Lord Galkmeer said. "There are other southern lords who are not so...venerable as yourself."

"My lord," Basilides offered. "I have no concern that your lung ailment will hinder your ability to slay this lordling the Lord Chancellor speaks of. I am merely thinking of your long-term health, as is my nature. In all likelihood you will suffer no illness. In any case, I will be at your side to do whatever I can to help."

The Earl lowered his eyes and Basilides watched silently, realizing the position he had put the Earl in.

"All right, I'll do it, Sturm," the Earl finally said.

Lord Galkmeer smiled. "Excellent."

"How am I to find this Ryndor and make my way to Hairng, though? Palne has the Stone Road to follow at least. Am I to divine my way there, to pray to the Passions and hope they'll lead me to Ryndor and Hairng?"

"Ah, that's the stoutest part of my plan, my lord," Lord Galkmeer said, walking to the pavilion entrance and opening the flaps for two men to enter. "Lord Verk, may I introduce you to my good cousin and your own bannerman, Lord Melden Klaye of Sunspar. He is my most favored of cousins."

Lord Klaye bowed. "My lord, it is a great honor to finally meet you and help in this matter. Together we will be an indomitable force, I think. Everild here is my servant. Everild, my dear fellow, why don't you tell the Earl of Gaulang where it is you're from."

Everild stepped forward and bowed to the Earl. "My lord, though I was born in Gaulang and am loyal to the south, I was warded to the hamlet of Lord Ryndor."

"He knows the land like the back of his hand," LordKlaye said. "He can lead us to Ryndor's keep from the River Ordan by way ofGildan's Sprite and from there to Hairng. It would be our greatest pleasure toserve you in this way, my lord, and bring great honor to Gaulang and Sunspar,both."