“Messengers. All the white banda will come in—here. Tom’s Hillmen will stay out—off our right flank, in the ravines to the east, on the other bank of the Albin.” He looked back at both of them. “I’m not going to repeat Chevin. I can only hope that Thorn is.”

Ser John chewed the end of his moustache. Sauce chewed her hair.

Sauce said, “Why not hit one end of our line or another and roll us up?”

The captain shrugged. “Then we have a battle. I’m trying to be the sorcerer. He can’t have much control over his minions beyond ‘stop’ and ‘go.’ I don’t think the stone trolls can form fours and march to the flank. But we’ve had time to prepare and we’ve used it. It should prove a decisive advantage.”

Sauce said, “But you have doubts.”

The Red Knight nodded. “I always have doubts.”

Sauce glanced at him.

“My military tutor had an interesting definition for this situation,” the captain went on. “He said that a battle was a situation where two commanders each thought they had a decisive superiority and one was wrong.” He was still watching the distant hills. “I keep putting myself in the shoes—or what-have-you—of the sorcerer. Why’s he even here? He should go home and declare victory.” He frowned. “I’m missing something.”

“He killed your mother, and you think he should just go home?” Sauce said. “Don’t you want to fight?”

He looked at her as if she had something hideous springing from her forehead. “That’s amateur talk, Sauce. You taught me better than that. This is strictly business.”

Sauce laughed. “I never said any such thing.” She shrugged. “Maybe I did.”

“You did. You were talking about johns, and sex. But it’s the same lesson. No room here for hate. Strictly business. War is about mess kettles and latrines and having the last set of warm, dry fighters in reserve.” He nodded. “I think the sorcerer hates us. That would be excellent.”

“He killed your ma,” Sauce said.

“Drop it, Sauce.” His eyes were suddenly on her, and there at the edges was the red she’d expected all day.

“You’ve got to be human,” she said.

“I’ve been very human recently. Right now, I’m the captain.” He played with a glove.

She looked out over the wilderness that stretched away—everywhere—for miles.

“Why are we fighting here? You said Albinkirk.” Sauce found that she was angry. He was up to something. She thought of all her conversations with Mag.

He had that look she hated, where he, in fact, had all the answers and all his talk was just bullshit.

“I thought we’d fight at Albinkirk, but things changed. I changed my mind. The Faery Knight, Bad Tom—the Emperor.” He shrugged. “What is eating you?”