observed their mannerisms. He wondered if he could draw them out in discussions, but they were all careful to talk only of defending Calidor and supporting, if weakly, any decision Thelonius made.
The tour had progressed to the border wall and they rode westward along the southern side of it, camping beneath its looming presence for a night. The wall was, as everyone had promised, impressive. Even Edyon could see that a lot of men and a lot of money had been needed to construct it. The huge, first wall was formidable, the ditch wide and deep, and the far wall thick and solid.
Edyon woke early and lay on his bed, thinking about the traitors, the wall, Aloysius, and, indeed, his whole life. He recalled Madame Eruth’s foretelling: This is the crossroads. Your future divides here. There is a journey, a difficult one, to far lands and riches, or to pain, suffering, and death.
He’d chosen a path, and, after much time with death all around him, he was now in a land of riches. But was death just the other side of the wall? Was death around him in the form of the traitors?
Madame Eruth had also foretold a handsome foreign man. Where was he now? Where was March?
Edyon couldn’t stay in bed any longer. He rose and climbed to the top of the wall.
“No sign of the boy army yet?” Byron asked as he joined Edyon in the early morning light.
Edyon shook his head. “Brigant’s a lot less forbidding than I’d anticipated. I expected to look over the wall and see . . . oh, I don’t know, half-starved people and barren fields.” He gazed at the rolling green fields on the Brigantine side. “But will the wall do its job? Imagine an army of boys running toward us, Byron. Would they be able to scale these walls and attack our army?”
Byron’s gaze followed Edyon’s. “It wouldn’t be easy. Even with smoke. And once you’re in the ditch, you’re vulnerable, a sitting target. Of course, that doesn’t mean the Brigantines won’t try it.”
Edyon knew he was right. Death was there to the north, but, turning to look at his father’s camp, he saw Regan and Hunt walking together, and he had a feeling that death was there too.
The royal tour left the camp and headed into the rugged territory of Abask. As they threaded their way up the jagged mountains, Edyon tried to take it all in. There were stunning views back down the valley, a series of waterfalls with the faint colors of a rainbow in the mist at the bottom. But there were no people, no villages, not even any proper roads.
“So, what do you think of your land, Edyon?” Thelonius asked as he rode beside him.
“It’s very beautiful,” Edyon replied.
“Beautiful and empty. I know you think I feel nothing for the Abasks who were here, Edyon. But I do. This was their home, and they fought hard and died for it. They were a brave people.”
Edyon nodded but didn’t know what to say. It was true—March was perhaps the bravest person he’d ever known.
“During the last war, the Abask people were trapped here, surrounded by the Brigantine army. They clung on as long as they could, until the Brigantines overwhelmed them, killing most and taking the ones left alive as slaves. There were so many Brigantines—they’d trapped us in Calia. But at least we still had routes out via the sea. The Abasks didn’t even have that.” Thelonius added, “We could have fled, of course, but I’ll never leave.”
Edyon remembered what March had told him about Abask. The Brigantine army had killed many, but what had defeated the Abasks was hunger. This had been their land; they’d not fled either. They’d been killed or taken. That was true of March too.
Thelonius continued, “I received news last night from our spies in Brigant. They report that the main Brigantine army is still in the north, and they have no significant troops to the south. My assessment is that the ships they are massing will attack Pitoria, and the Brigantine ground troops will strike there too.”
“I’m glad you sent them the ships.”
“Let’s hope Tzsayn can make use of them.”
“And what if Aloysius defeats the Pitorians and turns on us?”
“We’ll be ready for him. The ports are protected. The north wall is well fortified. Even with all its might, the Brigantine army will struggle to breach it.”
“And what of the boy army? What of their powers when they have the