Maximus came thundering up on his horse, and the beast was lathered with sweat and breathing hard. He threw Crassus a quick salute, and swung down from the restless beast. "I ordered the call to arms," he said shortly. "We don't have much time."

"For what, Max?" Crassus demanded.

"You were right. It was too easy," Max said. "The Canim are coming-at least two separate elements coming from the northeast and southeast, and they're converging here."

"Crows," Crassus spat. "How many?"

"So far, better than thirty thousand," Max said.

Crassus just stared at him, his face going pale. "How? How could they have that many in the field?"

"Sir," Marcus growled. "It doesn't matter how. They're here."

Crassus clenched his hands into fists and then nodded sharply at the First

Spear. "Assemble, and prepare to move down the hill to support the defense of the palisade wall," he said sharply. "Knights to stay at the crown of the hill in reserve. Maximus, how many of your troops are in?"

"Not many," Max said. "Most are still standing picket."

"Then you're taking over as Knight Tribune," Crassus said. "Get moving."

Max saluted and strode off.

"Marcus…" Crassus said.

The First Spear banged out a crisp salute. "Let's get to work, sir."

Chapter 42

Isana watched as the Slive approached the docks at Fellcove, a small port town on Alera's western coast, many miles south of Founderport and the Elinarch. The place had a seedy look to it, the boards of its houses weathered with age and smeared with tar. From the looks of the docks, one could practically step off of one's ship and directly into the town's drinking house, or its brothel- possibly both.

Ehren stood beside her, smiling. "Don't look so alarmed, my lady," he murmured. "We won't be staying long enough for it to make you uncomfortable."

Isana glanced down at Ehren and smiled. "Does it show?"

"From about a league away," Ehren replied. "Truth be told, I don't care much for the place, either."

"Then how did we settle upon it as our landing point?" Isana asked.

"It's close to Mastings," Ehren said. "The Legions are probably there already, and even if they aren't, Nasaug almost certainly is."

"Shouldn't we have sailed directly to Mastings, then?"

Demos's voice cut into the conversation as the captain came striding down the deck. "The Canim have been rather narrow-minded about commandeering every ship that they can get their hands on. I'd rather keep mine."

"Which makes Fellcove our only real option," Ehren said. "The Canim don't keep a presence here. Something about the smell."

Isana arched an eyebrow. "Surely they don't leave it entirely unguarded?"

"No," Ehren said. "They pay a local, ah, businessman named Ibrus, to commandeer ships and keep them informed about any naval movements."

"What's to stop him from taking the Slive?" Isana asked Demos.

"He's greedy," Demos said. "Not suicidal."

"I've done business with him before," Ehren added. "He's as reasonable as any of his ilk can be."

The ship's lines got tossed out to the dock rats, and the men drew the Slive up to the dock and made it fast. Isana noted that a broad-bladed axe had been set out beside the base of each mooring line on the ship, presumably so that they could be severed quickly, if necessary.

The ship's hull bumped against the dock, and Demos nodded to Ehren, holding out his hand. "There you go."

Ehren slapped a jingling leather pouch into Demos's palm, and nodded to him. "Pleasure doing business."

"I always enjoy working with Cursors," Demos replied. "They pay on time, and almost never try to kill me afterward."

Tavi emerged from the passenger cabin, wearing a mail shirt and his weaponry. Araris, similarly clad, also appeared. Tavi nodded and smiled at Isana, before walking over to the hold and growling something in the Canish tongue. An answering snarl rose from the depths of the ship, and then Varg came up the stairs through the cargo doors. The enormous Cane wrinkled his nose and growled something, to which Tavi responded with a bark of laughter. Varg disdained the gangplank. He simply put one hand on the ship's railing and vaulted lightly down to the dock beneath. Lightly being a relative term, Isana supposed.

The dock rats all paused in their tasks for a moment, staring at Varg. The big Cane stretched, then deliberately yawned, displaying a mouthful of fangs.

The dock rats went hurriedly back to their tasks.

As Tavi passed Isana on the way to the gangplank, she asked him, "What did he say?"

"That he's glad to get off this ship," Tavi said. "He says it smells like wet people here."

Isana blinked. "I… I didn't realize." She glanced at the Cane. "Was he making a joke?"

"I'm not really sure," Tavi said. He gave Varg a wry glance. "I don't think I'm supposed to be. Excuse me." He paced down the gangplank to stand near the Cane.

Kitai climbed down from the ship's rigging and dropped the last several feet to the deck. Over the course of the journey, her hair had begun to grow in again and was now a short, fine brush of white offset by her longer mane. She gave a brilliant smile to one of the crewman, a brawny young sailor with a fresh cut running across his chin. The man visibly flinched and seemed to remember urgent duties requiring his attention elsewhere on the ship.

Kitai murmured to Isana, "I take my shirt off once, and it is as if these Aler-ans think I have invited them all to mate with me."

Isana glanced at the retreating young sailor. "Oh, dear. Why didn't you say anything?"

Kitai shrugged. "There was nothing to it. He made advances. I objected."

Isana arched an eyebrow. "I see. At what point did your objections draw blood?"

"Here," Kitai said, drawing a finger across her chin. "And another you can't see, right about…" She started untucking her shirt from her trousers.

Isana sighed and put her hands over Kitai's. "Later, dear. For the time being, let's just get off the ship." She turned to Kitai and offered her one of the traveling cloaks she had folded over her arm.

Kitai took the cloak, evidently well pleased with herself, and threw it about her shoulders, covering her distinctive hair with the hood. "Though I hardly see the point of wearing any kind of disguise," she said. "Not with the Cane with us."

Isana donned her own cloak. "Humor me."

"Easy enough," Kitai said agreeably.

Araris, now cloaked and hooded, came up to Isana, a satchel over his shoulder. He offered it to her, and she took it, her fingers brushing his. His eyes shone for a moment, and he bowed his head to her. "Ready?"

Isana felt a sudden flutter of amusement mixed with realization from Kitai, who murmured tartly, "Why, I expect she is."

"Kitai!" Isana whispered fiercely, her face heating.

"All that fuss about the men in a separate room. I should have shared a room with my Aleran and you with yours. We all would have been happier."

"Kitai!"

"Though I suppose we might not have gotten things done quite as quickly," Kitai said. She tilted her head and gave Araris a frank appraisal. "How is he with his mouth?"

Araris looked considerably more shaken than he had when he'd received his hideous belly wound. "Urn, ladies," he said. "Excuse me." He hurried down the gangplank to move to Tavi's side.

Kitai laughed, a merry, silvery sound. "Alerans make this easy."

"You're shameless!" Isana protested, but she felt her mouth turning up into a smile.

"Of course," Kitai said. "It's obviously a side effect of being an unlettered savage." She pursed her lips thoughtfully and glanced at Tavi, who was speaking intently to Ehren. "My Aleran does not know."