Morgan cast a resigned look at Duncan, then threw an arm around Kelson’s shoulders in a comradely gesture and began walking him back into the tent.

“Suppose we talk about it over some food, my prince?” He signaled Derry to see to it. “And if someone could call Nigel and his captains, I’ll brief everyone at the same time. I have neither the time nor the desire to tell this tale more than once.”

Inside, Morgan collapsed into a camp chair beside the campaign table and swung his boots up on a footstool with a grunt, letting his helmet slide to the ground beside him. Duncan, a bit more mindful of social amenities, waited until Kelson had seated himself opposite before sinking into another camp chair beside Morgan, laying his helmet at his feet.

“You look terrible,” Kelson finally said, surveying them critically. “Both of you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of you with beards before, either.”

Duncan smiled and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stretched. “Quite likely not, my prince. But you must admit, we fooled the rebels. Even Alaric, with his brazen manner and outrageous yellow hair, was able to pass as a simple soldier when he put on his act. And riding for the past two weeks in rebel uniforms was nothing short of inspired.”

“And dangerous,” Nigel said, slipping into a chair at Kelson’s left and motioning three red-cloaked captains to positions around the table. “I hope you made it worth the risk. Our venture certainly wasn’t.”

Morgan sobered instantly and took his feet down from the stool, all levity gone now that the complement was complete. Nigel’s left arm was supported by a black silk sling, a dark bruise purpling his right cheekbone. Other than that, he was almost the image of the dead Brion. Morgan had to make a conscious effort to force that image out of his head.

“Nigel, I am sorry. I heard what happened. In fact, we saw the aftermath at Jennan Vale. We couldn’t have been more than a few hours behind you.”

Nigel grunted noncommittally and lowered his eyes, and Morgan realized that he would have to do something to lighten the mood.

“It has been an instructive few weeks in other respects, however,” he continued brightly. “Some of the information we picked up in talking to rebel soldiers was very enlightening, even if useless strategically. It’s amazing the number of rumors and semi-legendary notions the common folk seem to have concocted about us.”

He folded his hands across his waist and sat back in his chair, smiling faintly. “Did you know, for example, that I am rumored to have cloven hooves?” He stretched out his booted feet before him and glanced at them wistfully as the eyes of all present followed his gaze.

“Of course, few people have ever seen my feet without shoes of some sort—especially peasants. Do you suppose it could be true?”

Kelson grinned in spite of himself, and the three captains exchanged uneasy glances.