Hesmucet gave the reins of his unicorn to a waiting trooper and hurried over to Bart and Doubting George. Without preamble, Hesmucet said, “Let’s chase those traitor sons of bitches to the hells and gone. The less we let ’em up, the better off we’ll be.”

“I have no quarrel with that,” Bart said.

“Neither have I,” George said, “though I do think we would be wise to scout carefully out ahead of our main line of march, to keep us from running into trouble the way General Guildenstern did.”

“Well, I have no quarrel with that,” Hesmucet said. “I can’t see how any sensible man would have a quarrel with that, although you never can tell with some people.”

“Let’s get on with it, then,” General Bart said. “Soonest begun, soonest done, or so they say. I want to drive the Army of Franklin so far into Peachtree Province that it can’t ever even dream of coming back to Franklin again.”

“That’s fine. Mighty fine, in fact,” Hesmucet said.

“It will be fine indeed, if we can bring it off,” George said. “Talking about such plans is always easier than making them work, though.”

He’s not a coward, Bart reminded himself. He’s a cautious man. There’s a difference. Hesmucet bristled at George’s words, but didn’t say anything himself. He wanted to go after the enemy, and was confident Bart would give him what he wanted.

Before Bart could make any remarks of his own, a scryer came up to him and said, “Sir, King Avram would speak with you from Georgetown.”

“Would he?” Bart replied. The scryer solemnly nodded. Bart said, “Well, if the king wants to speak to the likes of me, I don’t suppose I ought to keep him waiting. Take me to the right crystal ball and sit me down in front of it.”

“Yes, sir. Come with me, sir,” the scryer said.

Very shortly thereafter, Bart did sit down in front of a crystal ball from whose depths the long, bony face of King Avram stared out. “Congratulations, General, on the great victory you and your men have earned these past two days.”

“Thank you kindly, sir,” Bart said. “Thank you for all the confidence you’ve had in me throughout this war.”

Avram smiled a lopsided smile. Most of his smiles were lopsided. He was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a handsome man. Geoffrey and those who followed him made much of that, calling Avram a mistake of the gods and other, less complimentary, things. Handsome or not, though, Avram was engaging in a way the cold-blooded Geoffrey could never match. Seeing his smile, Bart had to return it; he couldn’t help himself. Avram said, “I’d better be confident in you. You have the one quality I can’t do without in a general: you fight.”

“That’s the point of the exercise, your Majesty,” Bart said.

“You understand as much. It’s second nature to you,” the king said. “Too many men, though, think they’ve got their fancy uniforms for no better reason than looking pretty on parade. Now, if you’d be so kind, describe your present situation for me, and tell me what you plan to do next.”

“Yes, sir.” Bart obeyed. Avram had no formal soldierly training, but he’d learned a good deal about making war since he’d had to start doing it.

The king plucked at his beard. He’d grown it only after King Buchan died, perhaps to try to make himself look more regal. In Bart’s opinion, it hadn’t quite worked. But King Avram, though interested in Bart’s views on matters military, had never given any sign he cared about the general’s opinions on other matters. Avram said, “Had you planned to send your whole army after Count Thraxton?”

“Yes, sir,” Bart said again. “Anything less would be asking for a nasty surprise like the one he gave General Guildenstern by the River of Death.”

“Mm, yes, something to that, I suppose,” Avram said. “At the same time, though, I am concerned about General Ambrose, over in Wesleyton. With James of Broadpath laying siege to him there, he could use some reinforcements, wouldn’t you say?”

“Your Majesty, I’m not at all sure Earl James can go on with that siege now that we’ve beaten Thraxton the Braggart,” Bart replied. “He has the last force loyal to the pretender left in the whole province of Franklin. If we were to go after him instead of Thraxton, we could crush him, and he has to know it.”

“That wouldn’t be so if he took Wesleyton before you got there, would it?” the king said. “I tell you frankly, General, I would be mighty unhappy if that happened. I’ve wanted to get an army into Wesleyton ever since this war started, and I don’t care to see the chance lost before we can take advantage of it. Do I make myself plain?”

“You certainly do, your Majesty,” Bart said with a sigh. “I still think you’re fretting more than you need to, but-”

“But me no buts. That’s what kings are for: to fret about things, I mean,” Avram said. “Kindly take care of Wesleyton, General.”

“I was about to say, sir, that I can send Fighting Joseph’s wing in that direction,” Bart said. “He has enough men under his command to meet James of Broadpath by himself, if need be, and enough to have a sizable edge on James if you add his men and Whiskery Ambrose’s together.”

King Avram stroked his beard again. After a moment, he nodded. “All right, General. Yes, I think that will do the trick.” He raised one shaggy eyebrow. “I won’t be sorry to see Fighting Joseph marching off into the middle of nowhere, either, and I’ve got a suspicion it won’t exactly break your heart. Eh? What do you say about that?”

Avram might not have been a general, but he showed a shrewd understanding of his fellow man. “What do I have to say to that, your Majesty? I’d say you were right,” Bart answered. “But I also have to say that, if I send Fighting Joseph off toward Wesleyton, it will delay my pursuit of Thraxton the Braggart.”

“I’m willing to pay that price,” the king said. “And, by the time the pursuit does get started, it may not be yours any more anyhow.”

“Sir?” Bart said in surprise.

“One of the things I’ve been thinking for a while is that Detina hasn’t had a marshal, an overall commanding general, for a goodish while, and that we need one right about now,” Avram said. “Another thing I’ve been thinking for a while is that you’re shaping pretty well for the job. That, I expect, would bring you here to the west to take charge of the fight against Duke Edward of Arlington and the Army of Southern Parthenia. What have you got to say for yourself?”

“Sir, if you think I’m up to it, I’ll do my best not to disappoint you,” Bart replied.

Avram nodded. “That will do. That will do nicely. What you try, General, you have a way of succeeding at.”

I have to, Bart thought. If I don’t do well here, what can I fall back on? The spirits jar, and I’d fall into that, fall into it and never get out. “Thank you kindly for all the trust you’ve placed in me,” he said aloud.

“Thank you for not making me sorry I’ve done it,” Avram answered. Yes, they understood each other well.

“Your Majesty, Detina’s done a lot for me,” Bart said. “The least I could do is give a little something back to the kingdom.”

“General, what you and your men had given isn’t a little something,” the king said. “After what happened at the River of Death, I was afraid-I was very much afraid, though I wouldn’t say so to most people-we would have to start the war in the east all over again, so to speak. Thanks to you, that isn’t going to happen, and I thank you for it from the bottom of my heart. Good day to you.”

“Good day, sir,” Bart replied. In the middle of his words, the crystal ball went blank and empty. He turned and nodded to the scryer. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir,” the young man said.

When Bart went out to Doubting George and Hesmucet, both lieutenant generals all but pounced on him. “What are our orders, sir?” one of them asked, at the same time as the other one was saying, “What did the king tell you?”