Even so, it was a tenuous coalition, held together by anger and injured pride. The Riders of Caergoth and the provincial Riders of the landed hordes would fight if contested, but privately Tol wondered how they would respond if the emperor sought to appease them. That didn’t seem likely. Ackal V was clever, but he was not the sort to placate anyone, even with a sword at his throat.

The first rays of sunlight had just touched the tops of the city wall when the last men fell in place. Each horde commander rode out to meet Tol, who waited in the center of the road on a new mount. The Riders’ stables had yielded up a fine dappled gray war-horse.

Tol greeted the horde commanders by name and assigned them their places in the march. Two wings of twenty hordes each would ride west, each wing flanking the imperial highway. The bulk of the army, and the baggage train, would proceed on the road.

“If we are challenged, do we fight, my lord?” Lord Wagram asked.

“We’re not going to Daltigoth to attend a festival!”

There was much smothered laughter at Zanpolo’s quip. The legendary warlord was mounted on a large horse as black as its rider’s forked beard.

Wagram reddened, demanding, “Do we attack imperial troops on sight then?”

This was a legitimate question, one Tol had long been considering. “No, my lord. If any hordes confront you, try to parley and convince them to join us. If they spurn your advances, ride on. If you’re attacked, fight back. But don’t start battles yourselves. Our quarrel is with Ackal V, not every Rider in the Great Horde.”

Another of the Caergoth warlords, Quevalen by name, asked, “What exactly is our quarrel, my lord? Wornoth has paid for his perfidy. Are we to depose the emperor, or merely seek redress for our many grievances?”

Tol wouldn’t impose his private vengeance on every man in his service, but neither would he deceive them.

“Ackal V seized power illegally from Prince Hatonar, his brother’s heir,” he said. “And I have evidence he was behind the illness and death of his brother, Ackal IV.”

He sought the eye of every warlord before him. “We seek the ouster of Ackal V and the restoration of the imperial throne to the rightful heirs of Pakin III and Ackal IV. The new emperor will see to it our grievances are heard.” Again, he stared at each of them, slowly turning in his saddle. “If anyone here cannot accept this, let him depart now without blame.”

There was restive movement, especially among the younger officers, but none broke ranks.

“Remember, my lords, no one here is a rebel. We do not seek to overthrow the empire. We mean to save it!”

He put heels to his war-horse’s sides and set out at a trot. Egrin and Pagas came close after, then the warlords of the landed hordes-Argonnel, Mittigorn, Trudo, and the rest. Soon the whole army was in motion. The noise of massed hoofbeats was thunderous.

In the rear, at the head of the baggage caravan, Kiya slapped the reins against the backs of her four-horse team, setting the animals into motion. Miya, sitting next to her on the wagon seat, finished tying a scarf over her head and signaled to the teamsters to follow.

“Can he do it?” Miya asked.

Kiya squinted against the rising dust. “Husband is doing it.”

Chapter 24

The Army of the East rode ready for combat, but the first two days of the journey passed without hostility. The countryside, which had been emptied of people by the parallel invasions of bakali and nomads, had sprung to life again. As Tol’s army passed out of the Caer Hundred into the Heartland Hundred, strange things began to happen.

Ordinary folk, who normally wouldn’t have come within a league of an armed horde, turned out by the hundreds. Word spread that Lord Tolandruth was leading the hordes to Daltigoth to set things right, so cautious observers left their hiding places and came forward to cheer. Nor did they come with empty hands.

The bountiful countryside between Caergoth and the capital had not been ravaged in the recent invasions. No nomads had made it this far west, and the bakali had passed far to the north. With high summer upon the land, the fertile heart of the empire was bursting with plenty. Even the drought that gripped the Eastern Hundred had not affected crops here. The peasants brought fruits, vegetables, and smoked meats. Before long, Riders were festooned with bags of grapes, onions, melons, and carrots, and even several live chickens, their feet lashed together.

Kiya and Miya, having gotten the baggage caravan started, left it to join Tol at the head of the central column. A farmer’s wife rushed up to Miya, shoved an enormous ham into her arms, and hurried away, all without a word. While the Dom-shu sisters were amused by the joyous reception, Tol found it unsettling.

Miya, staggering along with the ham, said, “They’re happy, Husband! They know what you’re going to do!”

Egrin remained dour. “If we fail, the results could be grave for those known to have given us aid.”

As it developed, there were other, more immediate considerations. Gifts of beer and wine began to arrive, and the Army of the East grew merry indeed. Lord Argonnel cantered over from the right wing, where similar conditions prevailed.

“My lord, this must stop!” he said. “Discipline is failing. If the emperor attacked now, our men would flounder under an ocean of foodstuffs!”

“But the people love us!” Miya replied. “And it’s for them you’re doing this, Husband!”

Argonnel was right, but Miya had a point as well. How could they extricate themselves from the flood of well-meant gifts without alienating the good people of Ergoth?

It was Kiya who showed the way. Two children approached her, each bearing pots of berry jam. Even the tough warrior woman couldn’t bear to wound them by refusing, but her hands were already full. Exasperated, she held out a bag of grapes.

“I can’t take anything unless you take something in return!” she declared.

Laughing, Tol made Kiya’s frustrated bargain a general order. No one in the army was to accept another gift without giving something back. He also ordered the pace of the hordes quickened. This would make it harder for the peasants to reach the warriors.

By the third day-halfway along in the journey to Daltigoth-the bounty of food and drink had greatly subsided. Near the border of the Great Horde Hundred, in which the capital lay, it ceased altogether. The farmers were no less glad to see the Army of the East, but the influence of Ackal V’s spies was greater. The first scouts were seen, watching Tol’s hordes advance through the lush orchards and verdant pastures east of Daltigoth. Riders from Zanpolo’s Iron Falcons tried to flush out them out but failed to catch them. The spies were mounted on fleet, carefully chosen horses, and they knew the countryside well. Tol took Zanpolo’s failure in stride.

“If you can capture a scout, fine, but if not…” Tol shrugged. “We want everyone in Daltigoth to know we’re coming. The time is fast approaching when all must choose-as you did, Zanpolo-whether to be with us or against us.”

The first clash came soon after.

At the intersection of the Ackal Path and the Mordirin Way was a customs house. Here, imperial officials levied tolls on caravans passing east or west, and north or south. Comprising a stout stone building and a wooden tower enclosed in a stockade faced with sloping walls of earth, the customs house seemed an unlikely spot for a showdown. But as Riders from Mittigorn’s Black Viper Horde approached, a shower of arrows greeted them.

Mittigorn sent word back to Tol, then dismounted sixty men and proceeded to attack. After storming the grassy scarp, the Vipers fell upon the occupants of the stockade. Much to their surprise, they discovered their opponents were not imperial warriors, but ordinary footmen armed with bows. Twenty-two bowmen and the customs officer constituted the entire garrison.