must stand with her housecarls and give the column of refugees at least some chance of escaping. Or she must die trying. Even so, she trembled with the terrible responsibility of it all. For the first time in her proud young life she found herself envying other girls of her own age: young peasants, or the daughters of rich merchants and artisans. All they had to worry about was themselves and their immediate families. Would their young shoulders be strong enough to carry the weight of an entire country?
By this time her horse had climbed the small hill the road followed, and she drew rein. The captain of her housecarls had been stumping along stolidly behind her, but seeing her stop he held up his hand, and his command of foot soldiers stamped to a halt.
“We make our stand here, Captain Eodred,” Thirrin said.
He nodded silently and, turning to the men, ordered them to fall out. Then he turned back to Thirrin. “When do we fight, Ma’am?”
“A little less than a day from now. We’ll be facing cavalry, and we’ll be outnumbered.”
He nodded, accepting the information without question. “A good position,” he said, looking around. “We could hold ten times our number here.”
“Yes, but for how long, Captain?”
He shrugged. “That’s with the gods.”
Later that night, Oskan, Maggiore, and Grimswald galloped back to consult with Thirrin. The refugee column was now several miles ahead and would continue to travel through the night as they tried to outrun the bad weather Maggiore had convinced them was on the way. All three of them were wearing borrowed armor, and it was all Thirrin could do not to fall into fits of giggles when she saw Grimswald. His helmet was so large the nasal plate reached to his chin, and if he turned his head suddenly, the helmet stayed staring forward, and then would slowly revolve to catch up with the face it supposedly protected. Even Maggie and Oskan looked vaguely ridiculous, like large children dressed up in their fathers’ clothes. After a long struggle Thirrin managed to gain control of her features, and then asked:
“And why, exactly, are you three wearing armor?”
“Because we want at least a chance of surviving the first charge tomorrow,” Oskan answered brusquely.
“Well, you don’t have to worry. I can guarantee that you will. You’ll all be with the wagons.” Thirrin waited quietly while the protests and arguments washed over her, and then she said, “None of you are trained. None of you are natural fighters. All of you would die. Quickly.
“Maggie, you can barely use a fruit knife without cutting yourself; Grimswald, I admire your bravery, but you’re far more useful to me ensuring that I have everything I need, when I need it, and Oskan …” She sighed, exasperated that she needed to point out the obvious. “Oskan, you’re a healer among other things. You’re supposed to repair the damage fighting inflicts on people, not cause it yourself.”
“But me and Maggie are your advisers; the King himself appointed us. We can’t just abandon you at the first sign of a fight! Redrought would expect us to be with you,” Oskan said, his voice taking on a note of desperation as he realized that Thirrin was determined, too.
“The King would expect advisers to advise, not fight. You and Maggie would both serve me best by leading my people safely to the Hypolitan,” Thirrin answered quietly. She was well aware that she was dealing with male pride here as much as loyalty and a sense of duty. Oskan was a boy who was standing on the threshold of manhood, and to leave a fourteen-year-old girl to fight while he rode away would be hard for him to bear. “Oskan, you must help Maggie lead the wagons to safety. You’ve become a symbol of hope and magical power for the people. When you’re with them, they feel less afraid, and that, combined with Maggie’s authority, is just what they need right now. If you abandon them in the forest, they’ll panic and run amok. Your duty lies with them.”
Oskan looked at his feet but eventually nodded. He knew she was right, but his self-respect had demanded he at least try to help in the coming fight. Maggiore nodded, too, though for him the gesture was more an acknowledgment that Thirrin had grown to fit the role that the war had forced her to take. She was already every inch a Queen with an air of command and a fighting spirit,