A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [65]
There was nothing left but to wait and see what move the Bear clan made next.
“Four hundred men!” Garedd said. “I never thought our lord could raise so many.”
“I told you that the men of the north had guts, didn’t I?” Cinvan said. “We’ll shove those stinking Westfolk off Lord Dovyn’s land, sure enough.”
They were standing on the roof of Tieryn Melaudd’s dun, ostensibly on guard duty, but they’d spent most of the afternoon leaning on the railing and watching the last preparations for the march west. In those days, four hundred men was a sizable army, and the ward below was a cram and clutter of horses, supply wagons, and men, the servants rushing back and forth loading provisions, the lords and riders standing around and talking over the campaign ahead.
“Tomorrow,” Cinvan said. “We ride tomorrow. Cursed well about time, too.”
“I’m just glad we didn’t draw fort guard.”
“Cursed right. The sooner we get the fighting started, the better.”
Garedd nodded his agreement, then went back to watching the bustle below. Cinvan walked across the tower roof and looked off to the west, where, far out of sight, the enemy lay, no doubt waiting for them. Normally, on a night before a march to battle, he would have been as eager as he was trying to act, but this time, he was troubled by thoughts that he could barely understand. As a matter of course he wanted battle glory, and he wasn’t afraid of battle pain—that wasn’t the problem. He was simply having trouble convincing himself that he hated the Westfolk as much as he should, considering that they were now his sworn lord’s enemies. No matter how hard he tried to banish the memory, he kept thinking of Prince Halaberiel, demanding and getting mercy for Lord Dovyn. And what about his sister’s man, too? What if Gaverro was part of the elven warband? Cinvan cordially hated the elf, but what about his little daughter, so far away from her mother now? What if his own niece ended up an orphan after this fight? Back and forth Cinvan prowled, struggling with an utterly unfamiliar conscience. Finally, when the sunset was turning the west a gilded pink, he reminded himself that as an oath-sworn rider there was absolutely nothing he could do about anything except follow his lord’s orders.
“We’re off watch,” Garedd called out. “You coming? What’s wrong with you, anyway?”
“Naught. I’m on my way.”
Yet he paused for one last look to the west, and he shuddered, wondering for the first time in his life if he might die in a coming war. Then he shook the feeling off and clattered downstairs to the warmth and noisy cheer of the great hall.
Three days after Nananna died, the first scouts came in. Aderyn was having dinner with Prince Halaberiel when they arrived at the camp; at the sudden gleeful shouts the banadar left his meal and hurried to meet them, with Aderyn trailing after. Although Aderyn couldn’t understand the Elvish reports, in time Calonderiel remembered his manners and translated for him.
“The Bears are here, camping down on the strip of land that Dovyn wanted. They’ve sent out scouts of their own. Our men spotted a couple of them crashing their way through the woods and killed them. When they don’t come back, the Bears should be able to guess that we know they’re here. They let a third Round-ear live, so he could tell the Bears about the terrain. That was Halaberiel’s orders, you see, to let one live. Why, I don’t know.”
“How many men does Melaudd have?”
“About four hundred.”
“Oh, ye gods.”
“Bad odds, sure enough.” Calonderiel paused, rubbing his chin. “Well, if we die defending the death-ground, it’ll have a certain poetry to it.” He caught Aderyn’s arm and began leading him away from the others. “Will you promise me somewhat? When the battle starts, you and Dallandra will be in camp, waiting to heal the wounded, right?”
“That’s our plan, truly.”
“Well and good, then. If our line breaks, and we’re all slain, will you make sure she gets to safety?”
“I will. I promise