The Lord Marshal had chosen as the battlefield a low, bare hill just on the Valdemar side of the Border. It had woods to the rear and the left of it, and open fields to the right. What Ancar couldn’t know—and what even now the scouts and skirmishers heading into the woods intended to keep him from learning—was that the woods to the rear of the hill had flooded with the bursting of an earthen dam earlier this spring. Water lay two and three feet deep all through them, and the hitherto-spongy ground was a morass of mud.

Others besides those skirmishers were moving into the woods to the left of the chosen field—the thousand or so fighters who had defected to Valdemar. In groups of a hundred or thereabouts, each with a mindspeaking Herald, they were taking positions to lie in wait past any point where Ancar’s scouts would be allowed to penetrate.

Teren slapped at another mosquito, and curbed his irritation. The ground was high enough here that they weren’t up to their rears in mud, but the stinging insects were having a rare old party—not only acres of new-made marsh to lay eggs in, but this unexpected bonus of humans as refreshments! It was dark, the air was damp, and it was chilly. Wythra didn’t like it any better than he did; he could hear his Companion blowing impatiently in the darkness to his right.

:Twin?: he mind-sent. :We’re in position, how about you?:

:The same,: was Keren’s reply, with an overtone of exasperation, :and up to our armpits in goddamn midges!:

:Mosquitos here.:

:Count your blessings,: came her retort. :The midges are crawling into people’s armor and you beat yourself black and blue trying to get them.:

:They’re everywhere—: That had the unmistakable overtones of Keren’s stallion Dantris, and he was irritated. Unlike most other Heralds, the twins could Mindspeak as well with each other’s Companions as with their own. :Even fellis-oil isn’t helping,: Dantris concluded in annoyance.

:Sounds like you may have more casualties from the wildlife than in battle.: Teren grinned to himself despite his discomfort.

:Let’s all hope you’re right,: his twin answered soberly.

“Be my eyes and ears, love,” Talia had begged Dirk. “They’re going to need me—”

“But—” he’d protested.

“Take Rolan; you know you can link to him. And when they need me—”

“Not if?” He’d sighed. “No, never mind. I link to Rolan and he links to you? Gods, can’t you rest for a moment?”

“Dare I?”

He’d had no answer to give her. So here he waited, in the lines behind Selenay, waiting for dawn. Praying she didn’t kill herself—because if he lost her, now that he’d just found her. . . .