“The last straw.” Shallan looked like she hadn’t slept in a while. “Or rather, several last straws. First we got hit by the natives. They’re tired of having their farms trampled, their houses looted, and their daughters raped.”

“But we didn‘t—” she stopped at the look Shallan gave her.

“Much,” Shallan amended. “You officers haven’t been told everything. No rape, anyway; the lads know us women’d have them singing a permanent soprano when we found out about it. But when we’re hungry and cold and mad as hell, things happen. Anyway, mostly it hasn’t been us, they just didn’t give a damn about who it was.”

“What happened, then?” Kero asked, shamed past blushing. Have we come that low so fast?

“You were about the only real casualty in that particular raid. We lost a couple of horses, couple of tents, but mostly it looked worse than it was. All these—” she waved her hand at the wounded lying beyond Kero “—were from the guerrilla ambushes they’ve been laying for both sides. You’ve been out of things for about four days. They’re whittling us down by ones and twos is what they’re doing. Caught one, the other day. Twelve-year-old kid. Said they’re trying to make life miserable for us, the Skybolts, so we’ll pack up and leave. He said their leader figures when we leave, the fight’s over.”

“I—can’t fault his reasoning.” This was not why she’d gotten into fighting, to destroy the lives of ordinary people.

Shallan shrugged. “No more can I,” she admitted. “Well, the absolute last straw just showed up today. The merchant-men. Demanding to know why we haven’t won this thing for them, since we’re supposed to be so good.”

Outrage filled her and died just as quickly. These fat, complacent sideline-sitters didn’t know fighting, and didn’t care. They probably worked their beasts the same-use them up, throw them away. After all, we’re only mercs. No one is going to miss us....

“Ardana’s called a meeting,” Shallan concluded, the shrewd and calculating expression on her face telling Kero that she’d read every thought as clearly as if she’d had Kero’s Thoughtsensing ability. “Think you’re up to it?”

Kero attempted to sit. And succeeded. And for the first time in a long time felt unleavened gratitude for Need. “Give me a hand up, and a shoulder to lean on, and I’m up to it,” she asserted, though her head swam for a moment. Her shoulder didn’t hurt, it itched, itched horribly, which made her think that the sword was making up for the four days it had been away from her, all at once. With every moment she felt stronger, and as Shallan helped her to her feet, she was able to ignore what pain there was and keep herself upright with a minimum of help.