“Never got into the thick of battle; probably he’s gotten away. And before you ask, I don’t know if Hulda was with him, but I’d guess not. From what I’ve been able to pick up from you and Talia, I’d say she isn’t one to put herself at any kind of risk. She’s probably safely back at the capital, consolidating things for her ‘little dear.’ ”

“What about—”

“Elspeth, my head is about ready to break open. I think I know why Lavan called the Firestorm down on himself—it probably felt better than his reaction-headache! I’m going to go pass out for a while. Thank Talia for me. We couldn’t have done it without her. And you stay ready; they’ll be bringing battle casualties back any minute now. The Healers will need every hand they can get, and there’ll be plenty of fellows eager for the privilege of having the Heir listening to their boasts while they’re being patched up.”

So it proved . . . and Elspeth learned firsthand of the aftermath of battle. She grew a great deal older in the next few hours. And never again would she think of war as “glorious.”

Selenay remained on the Border, as fresh troops came to help with mopping-up, but Elspeth, the Councillors, the wounded, and most of the Heralds (including Talia and Dirk) returned to the capital.

Just before the Councillors left, Selenay called them all together.

“I must remain here,” she said, feeling gray with exhaustion. “Elspeth has full powers of regency; in my absence she heads the Council—with full vote.”

Lord Gartheser looked as if he was about to protest, then subsided, sullenly. The Councillors who had been Orthallen’s advocates—with the exception of Hyron—were angry and unhappy and would be Elspeth’s first problem.

“You have no choice in this, my Councillors,” Selenay told them, fixing her eyes on Gartheser in particular. “In war the Monarch has right of decree, as you well know. And should there be any trouble. . .”

She paused significantly.

“Be certain that I shall hear of it—and act.”

Elspeth called a Council meeting as soon as they were all settled, but sent messages that it would be held in Talia’s quarters.

With the more aged or slothful of the Councillors grumbling and panting their way up the stairs to the top story, the meeting convened.

Talia was by no means well; she was healed enough to manage an hour or two undrugged, but no more than that. She was propped up on her little couch, positioned just under her window. She wore bandages everywhere except her head and neck; her ruined feet were encased in odd bootlike contraptions. She was nearly as white as the uniform she wore. Elspeth sat next to her, with one eye on her at all times.