He would not choose one of them to die, either. He stood and looked at Regg, who was holding the tiny hand of one of the little girls. He nodded at the doorway and they exited the room and gathered with Roen.

Outside, Abelar said, "I will stay. Take the men-"

"Stay?" Roen exclaimed.

Regg shook his head and chuckled. "I knew that you would say those words. No. I will stay and manage the plague here. When the village is cleansed, I will ride after you."

"We need you both," Roen said.

Abelar ignored the priest and studied his friend's craggy face, saw the sincerity of the offer. "No, Regg. This is my duty to perform. Besides, your father is in Forrin's path."

"As is your son," Regg answered.

Abelar felt a flash of doubt but pushed it down. He could not abandon the village.

"Go get them both," he said to Regg. He looked to Roen. "Go get them both."

Regg and Roen stared at him for many heartbeats, and both finally nodded. Regg took Abelar by the arm. "The Light is in you, my friend. It shines brightly."

"And you," Abelar answered. He indicated the sick room. "Let us do what we can for them now."

Abelar and Regg entered the room and placed their hands on the daughters in turn. They prayed aloud and pulled the divine energy of the Morninglord from their own purified flesh and channeled it into the young girls. Immediately, the girls' breathing eased and they fell into slumber.

Unable to do more, Abelar went to the mother's bedside. "Your daughters are well."

The woman smiled, said in a whisper, "I want to see them."

"You will," Abelar said. "They are sleeping now. Listen to me. I will not leave you. But you must fight for a few days more, then I will be able to heal you as I did your daughters. Do you understand? You must fight until then."

She nodded. Tears flowed anew, but not tears of sadness. She touched Abelar's hand and Abelar squeezed her fingers. He had taken lives in Lathander's name, many lives, but he never felt more about his G.o.d's work than when he used his hands to heal.

"I am ... sorry that I put you to that choice," he said. "It was inexcusable. My own son is in danger and it clouded my judgment."

She shook her head and smiled, coughed.

"I understand," she said hoa.r.s.ely. "And you should go to your son."

"I will," Abelar said. "But not until you are well."

She stared into his face, nodded gratefully. Regg knelt beside them, put his hand on her brow.

"Be well, goodmadam. May Lathander watch over you and the dawn bring you hope."

Abelar and Regg stood, regarding each other.

Regg said, "Stay in the light, Abelar Corrinthal."

"And you. I will follow after as soon as I can. You and Roen have the company."

Regg nodded and they parted.

Abelar watched through the cottage's open shutters as Regg and Roen led the company off. He imagined Elden at the end of Forrin's blade and the mental image almost caused him to mount his horse. A coughing fit from the sickroom pulled him back to his duty. He laid down his sword beside the hearth and went to his chosen task.

For hours he drew water, cooked broth, and spoon-fed it to mother and daughters. The daughters mostly slept, while the mother mostly coughed. Still, the smiles and clear eyes of the daughters in their waking hours reminded Abelar of why he had taken Lathander's rites.

Abelar learned the girls' names: Lis, Nissa, Sill, and Dera, the eldest. He obtained new bedding for them, and sang to them, as he often did to Elden. He smiled when they smiled, learned their laughs. They hovered around their mother and their love for her touched Abelar.

Throughout the day and early evening, their mother deteriorated. Abelar did not know if she would survive until he could heal her. He tried to think how best to prepare the girls for such a loss, but he could think of little. He saw the fear in their eyes.

When the girls slept, he spent the hours in meditation and prayer at the mother's bedside, holding her hand, asking Lathander to heal her, and to help Regg reach Elden in time. He kept vigil at the mother's bed throughout the night and slept little. He sensed the approaching dawn.

The creak of floorboards in the adjacent room drew his attention. He rose in silence, so as not to disturb his patients, took up a small clay lamp, and crept into the room.

He saw no one.

He started to return to the sickroom when a small flash of red on the floor caught his eye. He stared at it for a long while, to ensure he was not imagining it. He was not.

A single rose petal lay on the floor in the center of the room.

He walked to it, kneeled, gently held it between two fingers. It was fresh, as smooth as velvet. It could not have been tracked in. He had seen no roses in the village.

It was a sign. Warmth suffused his body.

"Thank you, Morninglord," he murmured.

Dawn's light, as pink as a rose, radiated through the slats of the closed shutters. Abelar rushed to them and threw them open. Rose-colored light bathed the room. Its touch warmed Abelar, calmed him. The light washed over the entire village, casting it all in a pastel glow.

Outside, brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows painted the eastern horizon. Abelar knew its meaning.

"Thank you, Morninglord," he said excitedly, and hurried to the sickroom. "Up, girls! Dera, get them up! Now, girl! Open every window in the house! Get your mother into the light."

The girls rose groggily from their beds and did as Abelar bade them. Meanwhile, Abelar ran outside and through the village, shouting. "Up and outside! Everyone, now! Stand in dawn's light! Do it now!"

Faces appeared in windows, bodies in doorways. Abelar pulled out anyone he could reach and ordered everyone else outside. In short order, the entire village stood outside, marveling at dawn's light, at the eastern sky.

Abelar hurried back to the cottage to find the girls crying and embracing their mother, who stood on shaky legs in the rosy light filtering in through an open window. She met Abelar's eyes and sobbed.

"You are healed," Abelar said, and his words were not a question.

She nodded through her tears. "Thanks to you, goodsir."

Abelar shook his head and smiled softly. "No. Thanks to Lathander." He hurried across the room, embraced her, kneeled and embraced the girls. "Tell everyone what has happened here. I must go. Be well."

"What has has happened here?" asked Dera. happened here?" asked Dera.

Abelar stood. "The Morninglord has blessed us all. Farewell."

They called their thanks after him as he hurried from the room, collected his weapon, and rushed outside. He whistled for Swiftdawn and she galloped to his side. He swung into the saddle and the boys who had taken his shield the day before ran over to him, carrying it between them. He took it up, smiled at the boys.

"Are you going to slay a dragon?" the taller of the boys asked.

"Yes," Abelar said. He put his heels into Swiftdawn. "Ride!"

Malkur sat upon his leather-barded warhorse at the side of the hard-packed road, flanked by three of his commanders, Lorgan, Reht, and Enken. With them were Vors, the war priest of Talos, and one of the company's battle mages, Mennick. All had shed the markings of their mercenary company and instead wore the gold-wheel-on-green of Ordulin.

Malkur took care to position himself in the sunlight. Since the attack on his men by the shade in service to the Hulorn, Malkur kept light about him as often as possible.

The column of his cavalry stretched along the road, a ribbon of steel and flesh. A rolling cloud of dust, creaking leather, and the c.h.i.n.k of armor accompanied their travel. The men saluted him as they rode past, but held only rough formation. Teams of outriders rode a quarter league to fore, behind, and on the flanks, reporting back on the half-bell. The supply train, escorted by four-score riders under Gavin's command, brought up the rear of the column. The supply train slowed them, but that could not be avoided.

"The men are eager for a fight," Reht said.

"They will have one soon enough," Lorgan answered.

Enken fiddled with one of his many knives and said, "Perhaps. Or perhaps we'll find naught but an empty city and n.o.bles cowering in their manses. They will evacuate when they learn we are coming."

All but Vors chuckled. He said, "If a ride halfway across Sembia does not have a battle at its end, I am killing one of you in Talos's name."

The men laughed still harder. Vors did not even smile.

"See to your units," Malkur said to his commanders. "We ride past dusk and into the night. We reach Saerb within five days, or you answer to me. Reht, Lorgan, and Vors, you three remain."

Enken and Mennick saluted and galloped off to rejoin their units. They shouted orders as they moved up and down the line.

"Commander?" Lorgan asked.

"Take a force and angle south of Saerb. Take three hundred fifty men. Ride hard and sweep wide. We will attack Saerb in five days. Be in position by then, but stay low before that."

Malkur wanted Lorgan to cut off any residents of Saerb or its environs who might try to flee before his army toward Selgaunt. Lorgan understood the purpose of the order.

"Those will be ripe pickings," Lorgan said.

Malkur looked to Reht. "Take seventy men, plus Vors and Mennick. Leave tonight and ride hard ahead of Lorgan's force. The Corrinthal estate is half a league east of Saerb proper. Everyone there is to die except Abelar Corrinthal's young son. His name is Elden. He was born dumb and looks it, by all accounts. Bring him back to me alive."

Vors smiled and his crazed eyes lit up at the thought of slaughter.

Reht only nodded. Killing was his work. He did not revel in it, Malkur knew, but he did not shirk it.

"I will want a force of all former Blades," Reht said. "Night fighters. We may need to dodge an army, should Saerb field one."

"Agreed," Forrin said. "Go."

Lorgan said, "I will need at least one more priest, as well."

"Take Avrek," Forrin said, naming another Tala.s.san war priest in their company. That would leave Forrin with a handful of priests to service the main body of troops.

"Thank you, Commander," Lorgan said.

Reht, Lorgan, and Vors saluted and rode off. Vors howled with delight at the pa.s.sing troops and shook his axe in the air.

Forrin watched the rest of his force ride by, satisfied. He had good fighters and strong leaders. He had arranged commissions for all of his junior commanders from the Blades, and had filled the remaining command positions in the unit with men he knew to be loyal to him from his previous days in the Sembian military. Twelve hundred medium horse were riding on Saerb, and Malkur had, directly or indirectly, handpicked all of them. They would do exactly as he wished.

And what he wished was to burn first the Corrinthal estate, then Saerb itself to the ground. The overmistress had instructed him to make Saerb an example. Malkur intended to do exactly that.

CHAPTER SIX.

20 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms A mixture of dread and relief washed over Tamlin as he received the news that part of the overmistress's army was marching on Saerb. Dread that war, real war, had finally come. Relief that it had fallen first on Saerb, rather than on Selgaunt. mixture of dread and relief washed over Tamlin as he received the news that part of the overmistress's army was marching on Saerb. Dread that war, real war, had finally come. Relief that it had fallen first on Saerb, rather than on Selgaunt.

Prince Rivalen, Vees Talendar, and the bull-necked Rorsim Soargyl joined him around a conference table in the palace.

Tamlin said, "Our spies report that a contingent of the overmistress's army moves on Saerb. I wish your views on how we should respond."

Rorsim looked to Vees, to Rivalen, back to Tamlin, and said, "I could put two hundred good men in the field to intercept Forrin."

Vees looked puzzled and stroked his beard. "Two hundred? What would two hundred do? Forrin has many times that."

Rorsim eyed Vees. "Our two hundred could join with Corrinthal's forces, if possible. Or a.s.sist with a retreat of Saerb's population to Selgaunt, if not. There isn't a wall built for a fight anywhere in the north. They cannot make a stand there."

"We do not even know where Corrinthal's forces are," Vees answered reasonably. "Divinations have been inconsistent. Nine h.e.l.ls, he could be dead."

Rorsim c.o.c.ked his bucket-sized head to concede the point.

Tamlin looked to Rivalen. "Prince? Your thoughts?"

"Where are the men you promised us?" Rorsim blurted at Rivalen. "I have done what can be done with the Helms, Scepters, and militia, but-"

Shadows swirled around Rivalen. He regarded Rorsim coolly and Rorsim retreated into the depths of his chair.

"Members of an elite unit will be available soon," Rivalen answered in his deep voice. "They are engaged in other matters at the moment."

"Other matters," Rorsim muttered. "Always other matters."

Rivalen manipulated something with his fingers, studied its corners. Tamlin saw that it was a fivestar.

Rivalen said, "Hulorn, I believe that sacrificing any of the meager force you have here would put Selgaunt in a very weak position should the army gathering at Saerloon choose to march. There are rumors that may happen soon."

Rorsim leaned forward in his chair. "We would have advance notice and would be able to return before Saerloon's forces could arrive. There is no risk to Selgaunt."

Rivalen regarded Rorsim with his golden eyes. "There is always risk in war, and unknowns. I know that much better than you, Rorsim Soargyl. How many wars have you seen firsthand? Battle is not a contractual dispute over the shipment of goods."

Rorsim's face reddened behind his beard. "I have drawn my fair share of blood, sir."