The captain spat in his hand and clasped hands with Tom.

“Where do you want them?” Tom asked.

“I want them marched back north—fifty head at every stopping point in a six-day march, and I want the rest grazing in the fields south and west of Albinkirk in one week.”

“Tar’s tits,” Tom croaked. “That’s a mort of driving.”

“You’re the Drover,” Gabriel said. “Then keep going north and get your levies out of the Hills and join Ser John at Dorling. Take whatever beasts you need to feed the Emperor and four thousand men there.”

“And hold Dorling?” Tom asked.

The captain shook his head. They were perfectly silent.

“No. I’m sorry, Tom, but unless the Wyrm wants to fight for it, we’re sacrificing Dorling.”

“Why am I going there, then?” Lachlan asked.

“Because the levies will only rise for you or Ranald or Donald Dhu. And because I can trust you to follow orders—words, by the way, that no one else has ever said about you, Tom.” He smiled across the fire, and Tom grinned back.

“Only if I like ’em, boyo.”

“Raise your levies and hold the Inn until the Emperor comes. And then retreat to Albinkirk, making the road behind you a wilderness.” Gabriel leaned forward.

Tom crossed his arms. “With my Hillmen and the Emperor, I can defeat fucking Thorn.”

“No, Tom, you can’t. Not without me and Amicia and all the angels in heaven, too.” Gabriel shook his head vehemently. “Unless the Wyrm’s willing to go in person. And I shouldn’t even say that out loud. But if he is—then fight.”

Bad Tom scratched under his nose. “Retreating is not my best way,” he said.

“Tom, if you pull this off and get the Emperor and Ser John Crayford alive to Albinkirk, I promise you the greatest battle ever.” Gabriel nodded. “One toss, one fight, for everything.”

Tom raised a hand the size of most men’s heads. “Six days with my herd to Albinkirk. Two days hard riding to the Inn if no one stops us.” He frowned. “Eight days, at least. Where will you be?”

Gabriel scratched his bites. “Sukey, I need you to start north with the camp and the baggage tomorrow. Leave enough tents standing here for the Royal Guard and the company packed tight, and take the rest on the road. We’ll catch you at Sixth Bridge.”

Sukey nodded. “I can do that,” she said. “How soon can I start them up and packing?”

“Give them another hour,” the captain said.

He turned back to Tom while Sukey wrote on her wax tablets. “In eight days, I need to be two days south of Albinkirk,” he said. “Because the rest of us are going to turn on the archbishop right now—today. Win or die, and no quarter.” He looked around. “No quarter for the archbishop, that is. The rest of them can surrender as they need.”