of those ships are going to appreciate demotion to captains of ferryboats.”
Davvi snorted. “They’ll live.”
Rohan smiled slightly and began another comment, but from behind him he heard the squelch of something falling into the mud. He turned quickly to find Maarken pushing himself up from the ground, dazed of expression and glazed of eye. Rohan and Davvi helped the young man up.
“What happened?” Maarken stammered.
“You fell over, of course. Here, sit down and drink this.” Rohan pressed a winecup to his lips.
Maarken sipped, coughed, and shook his head to clear it. “Oh, Goddess,” he breathed. “I can hardly wait until I’m a real Sunrunner—”
“You’re doing just fine,” Davvi assured him.
“I can’t control anything,” the squire complained. “It just happens to me and I don’t have any say in the matter. It’s like—like being a field somebody marches over.” He pulled a wry face and brushed ineffectually at the mud on his clothes.
Rohan bit his lips together over impatient questions. As color returned to Maarken’s cheeks and a smile began on his face, Rohan stopped worrying, an instinct confirmed by the boy’s first words.
“Walvis beat the Merida!”
Davvi whispered rapid thanks to the Goddess as Maarken went on with his report. It seemed that Cunaxan supplies had been mysteriously delayed for some time—no one knew why—and with the diminishing of their food the Merida had turned to the only source of sustenance available to them: Tiglath itself. The battle had raged for two solid days, but by its end the Merida were destroyed and Tiglath more or less intact.
“The wall between the Sea Gate and the Sand Gate collapsed after the Merida spent a whole night undermining it,” Maarken explained, “but Lord Eltanin isn’t worried about that. He even wants to leave it as it is. What was it Kleve told me he said?” he frowned. “Something about making it a reminder and a warning, and that the walls built by his prince will be better defense than mere stone ever could be.” He looked up at Rohan, puzzled. “Do you know what he means, my lord?”
“I do,” Davvi said. “And he’s quite right. Go on, Maarken.”
“Well, there was lots more. The Merida were strung around Tiglath like jewels on a necklace, Walvis said, but Kleve said they were more like insects caught in a spider-web, with lines of archers between. The wall collapsed and then they invaded, but Walvis was ready for them. Our people came out of the gates and took the battle out to the plain, and—” He paused for breath. “Walvis killed the leader and at least fifty more. Kleve and Feylin were watching but they lost count!”
“Is Walvis hurt?” Rohan asked.
“Just a scratch or two. He’s too good a warrior to be wounded. The fires to burn the Merida dead went on for three days. Walvis wants to march south now to defend Stronghold or come to us here.”
Davvi gave a muffled exclamation. “Lleyn’s ships!”
“Exactly.” Rohan nodded.
“What ships?” Maarken asked.
“Later,” Rohan ordered. “Davvi, would you see him to his tent for some rest, please? I’ll be with Chay.”
As he mounted Pashta and rode slowly along the river-bank, he thought over Eltanin’s words. Walls stronger than stone, built by Rohan. The athri’s faith galled him. He would have to topple fortresses more formidable than castles if his dream was to come alive again within him. We hide behind our savagery, he thought bitterly. All of us. I have to destroy those walls before I can build others. And, more to the immediate point, he would have to demolish the very real fortress of Feruche, and quickly. Midwinter was approaching. He must finish things here, play the barbarian warrior prince with Roelstra, before doing the same thing at Feruche. But after that—Never again, I swear it, he told himself. Barbarian he might be, but he could put down his sword. He must. He could not live this way.
Rohan had been correct about the masters’ reaction to Chay’s proposed use of their ships. But the transfer of troops, horses, and supplies to the Syrene bank of the Faolain was completed in two days, well south of the bridges where Roelstra had expected Rohan to cross. The High Prince had no opportunity to deploy his army for serious harassment of the move; there were brief skirmishes but Desert archers kept the losses minimal. A measure was marched off and a new camp established, and all was ready just before the next storm blew in from the north. Once more both sides