"Don't worry about it," Braknil had advised after she'd noticed certain blankets moving late at night. "So long as it's honorable, it'll just make them fight the enemy all the harder. No one wants to look a coward to their lover."

Kaylah and Zir already seemed proof of this; during training they'd competed fiercely against each other and everyone else. Kaylah was a pretty blonde who looked almost too fragile for a warrior's life, but she was like a centaur on horseback, and could match anyone in the turma with a bow. Zir, a young, black— bearded bear of a man, had

Sakor's own sword arm mounted or afoot.

The trees turned out to be a thick pine forest.

Skirting along its edge, they struck a well-packed road that led through in the direction of the town. Just before noon they came out on the far side into a valley overlooking the town. It was a prosperous-looking place, with a palisade for protection and a busy market square.

Their dark green field tunics attracted less attention than their dress tabards might have, but the townspeople still looked askance at their swords, bows, and chain mail.

Better us than the Plenimaran marines, Beka thought, pulling her gorget from the neck of her tunic to show her rank.

Their Skalan gold was welcome enough, however. In less than an hour's time they'd found all the supplies they'd been sent for— parchment, flints, wax, honey, meal and flour, dried fruit and beans, salt, smoked meats, ale, four fat sheep and a pig, oats and winter fodder for the horses-and hired three carters to haul the goods back to the column under escort.

Her riders had also found time to purchase items for themselves and those left behind with the rest of the turma: tobacco, playing cards, sweetmeats, fruit, and writing materials were always in demand. Some even had chickens and geese slung from their saddlebows.

Mercalle shopped for the other sergeants; Portus was partial to nuts and raisins, Braknil to Mycenian cider brandy.

Mercalle glanced up at the sun as the carters secured the last of their load on their sledges and hitched up their oxen teams. "The column should have just about caught up by now. It'll make a shorter return trip for the carters."

"Everyone back?" asked Beka, counting faces.

"All accounted for, Lieutenant."

"Good. You, Tobin, and Arna take the point. The rest of us will ride escort with the sledges. We'll switch off point riders now and then, just to keep them from getting bored."

Mercalle saluted, and galloped off with the two riders. Beka and the rest fell in around the sledges.

No one seemed to mind the slower pace; it was pleasant to saunter along with the sun on their backs and a cold breeze in their faces. Leaving town by the same road they'd entered, they wended their way back up into the pines.

"Do you travel this road often?" Beka asked, striking up a conversation with the lead driver.

The man twitched the reins across his team's broad backs and nodded. "Often enough spring to autumn," he replied, his accent thick as oat porridge. "My brothers and me drive goods up to Torburn-on-the-River. Boats take it on to the coast."

"That must be a long trip at this pace."

He shrugged. "Three weeks up, three back."

"Have you heard much news here about a war coming?"

The carter spared her a sour glance. "I should think we have. Seeing as how we're like to get trampled once again when you lot and the Plenimarans go at each other. There's some say we ought to just trade land with one or t'other of ye, so's ye can fight without bothering us."

Beka bristled a bit at this. "We're on our way east to keep that from happening. Otherwise, your armies will be left on their own when Plenimar comes after your land and the river."

"They ain't took it yet. And you lot ain't never stopped 'em from wading in to try it."

Beka bit back a retort and eased her mount away from the sledge. There was no sense arguing the point. "Marten and Barius, you go take point. Tell Sergeant Mercalle I'll be up to relieve her as soon as the others get back."

"Right, Lieutenant!" Barius said, grinning through his new beard. He and Marten set off at a gallop, cloaks streaming behind them as they raced each other out of sight around a bend in the road.

The sound of their hoofbeats had just faded out of earshot when the scream of a horse raised the hair on the back of Beka's neck. Wheeling Wyvern, she saw Syrtas' mount buck him off behind the third sledge. The horse screamed again, then bolted for the trees.

Rethus reined in beside the fallen man, then slung himself from the saddle.

"Ambush!" they shouted, dashing for cover behind the sledge.

An arrow sang past Beka's horse and struck the side of the lead sledge. A glance told her that this was no military attack. The arrow was double fetched, rather than the military triple vane style, and the fletching was done clumsily, with one white vane and one a ragged brown.

"Bloody bandits!" the carter growled, pulling a short sword from under his seat and jumping over the side.

"Take cover!" Beka yelled, although the others were already doing just that. She slid off Wyvern with her bow in hand and whacked the horse on the haunches, hoping he'd get clear of the archers.

Heart pounding in her ears, Beka dove for the scant cover at the front of the sledge. Crouched there beside the carter, she tried to size up the situation.

The point riders weren't back yet; that left Zir, Kaylah, Corbin, Rethus, Mikal, and Syrtas—assuming none of them were already killed—and the three drivers.

Judging by the hail of arrows whining at them from the cover of the trees, however, her group was considerably outnumbered. Worse yet, they were being fired on from both sides of the road.

"You said nothing about bandits when we set out," she hissed to the driver.

"Ain't seen any most of the winter," he replied grudgingly.

"This crew's come north early. They must of laid for us until they saw you send off them other two."

Beka moved to the opposite side of the sledge just in time to spot three swordsmen running at them from the woods. Almost without thinking, she fitted an arrow to her bowstring and shot one of them; the other two fell to someone else's shafts.

Arrows snarled and hissed over her head as Beka dashed back to the next sledge, where she found Mikal, Zir, and Kaylah shooting wildly into the trees to either side.

"Stop shooting!" Beka ordered. "We can't afford to waste the arrows."

"What do we do?" Mikal demanded.

"Wait for a clear shot. And grab any spent arrow you can reach without getting hit."

Ducking low, she made it to the last sledge.

Rethus and Corbin were unscathed. Their carter lay panting beneath the sledge, an arrow shaft protruding from his hip.

That first enemy arrow had cut Syrtas just above the knee before striking his horse. The wound was bleeding freely, but it didn't seem to be slowing him down much as he and the others shot into the trees.

Beka repeated the order, and then nocked another arrow on her bowstring, waiting for one of their attackers to show himself.

The bandits mistook their actions as a sign of surrender; in a moment the arrow storm stopped and swordsmen burst from the trees, yelling wildly as they charged the sledges on foot.

"Now hit them, both sides!" Beka shouted, scrambling to her feet. Heedless of any archers who might still be lurking in the trees, she sent shaft after shaft at the swordsmen running at her, downing three of them. For the first time since the skirmish began, it occurred to her that she was taking human lives, but the thought carried no emotion. The thrum of bowstrings and the cries and shouts of battle filled her mind, leaving room for nothing else. Beside her, Rethus fired with the same silent determination.