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“Uwen. I swear—I swear that you may call me, and also send me away. That power I give you, and I know that I have no safer guardian.”
It took a great deal to make Uwen show fear. Now he did. “I ain’t no priest, m’lord.”
“You’re a good man. You understand right and wrong so easily. I don’t. Mauryl always said I was a fool.”
“Of course ye understand,” Uwen said with an uncertain laugh. “And ye’re the least like a fool that I know, m’lord.”
“But I swear I don’t understand such things. I haven’t lived in this world long enough to be wise. So I trust you with my going and coming.
Call me only if you truly want me. Then I shall know at least one man wishes me alive. Then I might come back to the world. But think twice before you call me.”
“Now ye’re being foolish. And His Majesty would never send ye away.”
“Cefwyn has no knowledge what I might do. Nor does he have pure reasons. Yours I trust. Do not beg off, Uwen. I give you the calling of me.
You ca
“M’lord, —” Uwen opened and shut his mouth. “That were a clever, wicked trick.”
“Cefwyn taught me,” he said, and gathered up his Book and walked outside. The horses had indeed arrived, wearing their war-gear, Dys and Cass in black caparison that made them part of the dark. “M’lord,” said Aswys, their trainer.
“I’m ready,” he said, and tossed the Book into the heart of the fire.
“My lord!” Uwen exclaimed.
The pages glowed along the edges and began to turn brown, the ink still showing. And that, too, began to go.
“He shall not have it,” he said, “neither Book nor mirror.” He went to Dys, who was working at the bit and fretting in dangerous boredom.
Dys’ face was masked in the metal chamfron, and nothing showed but the gloss of his eye, scarcely a hint of his nose. Tristen patted him under the neck, put his gauntlets on, and waited until he saw Cefwyn come out of his tent, with Idrys. They had Kanwy waiting; and Idrys’ heavy horse, Kandyn. Cefwyn rose to the saddle, and Tristen took the reins from Aswys, then, and was not too proud to use the mounting-block as Cefwyn had, not wishing to have the girth skewing. He cleared the high cantle and settled, moving his leg to let Aswys recheck the girth, while Uwen got up on Cass.
Tassand brought his helm and other servants handed up his shield, while Lusin, who used a mace by preference, would ride in the second line and carry the lance for him, in their lack of mounted aides, as Syllan would carry Uwen’s. One of the boys they had acquired came bringing Uwen his gauntlets, with worship on his face—and ducked back in awed haste when Cass took a casual snap at him.
Dys usually whipped his tail about. Today it was braided and tucked for safety, and Dys moved with a flexing and rattle of the bards that protected his neck, the straps of the armor passing through the caparison.
The white Star and Tower blazoned central on his black shield and barred on Uwen’s, floated in the dark, while, beyond them, Cefwyn’s Dragon ba
Ninévrisé came out of her tent, wearing her father’s mail shirt and with her father’s sword belted on; after her came her ladies, her standard-bearer, and the two Amefin lords who guarded them. “Come back safely,” she said, and sent her standard-bearer to his horse.
Then she said to Cefwyn, “I would rather be on the hill. I would rather be closer.”
“If it comes this far,” Cefwyn said, “as it may, you do not fight, m’lady. You ride. My brother has excellent qualities—among them a walled town. The whole northern army will rally to him if the war goes that far.”
“You do not pass me on like a gauntlet! I shall marry you, m’lord, or ride after you!”
“The gods,” Cefwyn said, “see us all safe, m’lady.” He turned Kanwy, then, and established an easy pace down the aisle toward the edge of the camp.
“Be well,” Ninévrisé called to them as they passed. “Gods keep you!
My lord of Ynefel, be safe!”
The standard-bearers, ahorse, caught up the standards, and the order established itself as the Guelen heavy horse and the Amefin fell into line, creaking of saddles, a slow, quiet thump of hooves on the trampled ground of the aisle, more and more of them as they passed their own sentries, and reached the Emwy road.
The dawn was begi
Even by night, that shadow was on the horizon; Tristen could see it without looking toward it in the gray world. He rode side by side with Cefwyn, westward, with only the standard-bearers in front.
With open road and a cool night, Dys wanted to move; but they had the Amefin foot to follow them—and not so far, in terms of the horses, before they should look for the Elwynim force that had crossed the bridge and rolled over Tasien’s defense.
“Aséyneddin will stay to the road,” he said to Cefwyn, when Cefwyn was about to send scouts out. “They have reason to fear Althalen—and even for Hasufin’s urging, I doubt he will risk Caswyddian’s fate. Or if he does—he will not fall on the camp without Ninévrisé knowing. Send no men by that ruin.”
“Dare I trust all our lives on your advice? She has no defense. Should she have no warning?”
“The camp is very well defended. The scouts you send into the ruin will not come back, m’lord. They will die if you send them. I beg you, don’t. They have no defense. We were safe. They won’t be. The sentries are enough. Her father will protect her.”
Cefwyn drew a deep breath, started to argue, then shook his head, and sent the scouts only to the fore, down the road. Idrys was not pleased with it. But Cefwyn did as he asked.
The next was a long ride, Dys and Kanwy walking along quietly, but Kandyn and Umanon’s horse took such exception to each other that Umanon drew off well to the side of the road.
Cass had no such animosities: he and Idrys’ horse alike were stablemates of Kanwy and Dys, and trained together. He was amiable, of his kind; but Dys, young, in his first campaign, made a constant demand for attention: he snapped and pulled at the reins, seeking to move ahead of Kanwy, which Tristen did not allow, or to the side, where he could a
But he knew from what he did hear that, behind them, at all the speed they could safely manage, the Amefin troops were marching behind the Amefin Eagle, foot soldiers fewer in numbers than they had pla
The wagons would not follow today: Ninévrisé, in command of the camp since their change in plans, would stand ready to strike the tents and advance to Lewenside, just the other side of Emwy, if they drove Aséyneddin in retreat—or to order the baggage burned, the horses and oxen driven off, and save herself and the men in camp if the battle went the other way and it looked as if As6yneddin might take it. Messengers were already designated from their army to make the ride back to her, once they knew the situation that developed at the army’s approach to
Emwy.
The sun was well into the sky, all the same, a gray sky, when they came near that series of ridges that preceded the turn toward Emwy-Arys.