“An honest answer, but yours was the behavior of a boy, not of a man.”

The smile fled. “Yes, Captain.”

“Furthermore, you know what situation we find ourselves in. We must establish ourselves as settlers in this land, respected and accepted by those we mean to live among, while at the same time we know that a dangerous threat remains, one we do not understand nor know the extent of. I need my tailmen to become men, so I can assign each one of you to stand as sergeants over recruits. To survive, we have to protect ourselves. To protect ourselves, we need what our enemy already has: an army. You may go.”

“Yes, Captain.” He left.

Mai said, “Anji, after the battle, you told the council of Olossi you were not minded to accept the post of commander of the militia of Olossi.”

“Because the commander of the militia of Olossi can accomplish very little. This whole region needs a militia, not just the city. We need a militia, plum blossom, so our children may grow up.” He shifted, reaching to take Mai’s hand, but before he touched her he caught himself, glanced at Avisha, and withdrew his hand.

Mai rested a hand on her abdomen. “You think the army wearing the star will attack again.”

“I am sure they will.”

Avisha sank onto the bench.

Trembling, Mai sat beside her and took hold of her hands. “Don’t fret. You’ll be safe.”

“I would attack, in their place,” he continued. “But I would also assign new commanders, get better discipline in my troops, and most importantly I would send—” Looking at Avisha, he broke off. Paused. And started again. “I would do what I have already done.”

“Shai is not ready for this,” Mai whispered, and Avisha thought she did not mean the captain to hear, but he did.

He said, “ ‘If you do it, don’t be afraid.’ ”

She smiled wanly. “I will not falter. It’s just that sometimes it seems so hard.”

He nodded. “Mai, we’ll get the land we need. We’ll build a stronghold and set up our perimeter. While you run the business, I’ll teach the people of Olo’osson how to fight. Between us, we can survive.”

“Of course,” said Mai faintly as her expression twisted. She swayed, covering her mouth.

He said, briskly, “Priya, can you fetch her some of that sweet ginger cordial she likes?”

“Here’s my cup,” said Avisha.

The older woman whisked the cup out of Avisha’s hand and knelt beside Mai. “Just take a sip, little flower.”

It seemed unfair that the woman had ripped away her chance to give a kindness to repay the kindness shown her. She glanced at the children; their ragged clothes and dirty faces wouldn’t help her cause. But she had been rehearsing speeches for days now, making lists of reasons she would make a good wife. “My mam taught me a tincture, steeped herbs, that helps settle the stomach of pregnant women. I can make some for you.”