Valyn weighed the words. He hadn’t expected his sister to be so ruthless and hardheaded, but her argument made sense, especially if Long Fist really was bringing that army over the Black. Killing the general would destroy morale, and putting an untested commander in charge could mean the difference between victory and defeat. He thought back to Long Fist, to the tracery of scar covering the shaman’s flesh, to the predatory look in his eye. Ran il Tornja wasn’t the only killer that needed watching, that much was sure. So much the better if the two destroyed each other.

“Where is he hoping to fight them?”

“The north end of the lake,” Adare said. “A small town called Andt-Kyl. That’s where the Urghul intend to cross the Black. Il Tornja says it’s the last chance to bottle them up before they get into the empire.”

Valyn shook his head. “You’ll never get there in time. It’s all bog and balsams out there. Nothing even resembling a road.”

“The kenarang knows what he’s doing, Valyn,” Adare said.

Valyn nodded slowly. “All right then. Andt-Kyl. He fights in Andt-Kyl, and when the fighting is over, he dies there.”

“You don’t need to go north,” Adare said. “You could wait here. Kill him when the army comes back south.”

Valyn shook his head. “No. Battles are baffling things. Units end up dead or out of place. People get lost. The best chance to take him down will be right after, in all the confusion.”

The insane thing was that the plan could actually work. The chaos just following the fight would give him as good a chance as any. Certainly it would be easier than killing him in the center of his own meticulously staked-out camp.

“Just make sure you wait for the end of the battle,” Adare insisted.

Valyn nodded. A few more days. Just a few more days until he put a blade in the kenarang’s back. He could wait a few more days.

He stepped up on the privy, ready to climb back through the canvas, then paused, turning to face Adare. Her eyes blazed.

“One more thing,” he said. “Kaden isn’t dead. The throne is his. And when this is all over, you’re going to give it back.”

39

Black suits or no black suits,” declared Trevor Larch, the massive man with a huge brown beard who served as the mayor of Andt-Kyl, “it doesn’t matter.”