“She’s here, actually,” Amon said. “In the duty room. We passed her on the way in. I asked her to come here to Fellsmarch for a few days. I wanted to debrief her about current conditions on that border. We’re paying so much attention to our southern neighbor that we need to make sure we’re not missing any risk from the west.”

Typical Amon Byrne, anticipating problems and handling them before they grew unmanageable. Taking responsibility for issues that were not precisely his to manage.

“Ask her to come in, then,” Raisa said. As Amon left, Raisa waved Averill and Jemson to chairs along the wall. “You two listen and let me know what you think.”

Amon returned with a tall, rangy guard in a mottled mountain uniform. She stopped in front of Raisa and saluted. “Your Majesty,” she said. “Captain Byrne tells me that you would like to know the status of our holdings along the escarpment.”

Dunedain’s eyes were a startling gray color against her coppery skin. Her hair was a sun-streaked brown, tied back with a cord. Her nose had been broken, and badly repaired.

“You’re a mixed-blood,” Raisa blurted.

“Yes, I am,” Dunedain said. “As are you, I believe. Is that a problem?” She met Raisa’s gaze frankly, with no trace of defensiveness.

“No, Sergeant, it’s just unexpected. There are not many clan in the Highlanders.”

“No, Your Majesty,” Dunedain said. “There should be more.”

“Why aren’t there more, do you think?” Raisa asked.

Dunedain glanced at Amon, as if seeking guidance.

“Be at ease, Sergeant,” Amon said. “You may speak your mind with the queen.”

“Several reasons,” Dunedain said, relaxing fractionally. “There used to be more clan in the Highlanders. We are well-suited for mountain warfare. But these days the army spends too much time in flatland maneuvers. We do not enjoy marching to and fro on a field to no purpose. Our enemies will come through the mountains or by sea. There is no other way to get here. It would be best to stop the enemy before they reach the Vale, since that is where they have the advantage.” She checked herself. “In my opinion, Your Majesty.”

“But we need to know how to fight in the flatlands, too,” Raisa argued. “Just in case.”

“General Klemath’s stripers already know how to fight in the flatlands, ma’am,” Dunedain said. “What they need is to learn how to fight in the mountains.”

“What else?” Raisa said.

“General Klemath does not have much use for the Spirit clans,” Dunedain said. “I think that is one reason he doesn’t want to spend time in the mountains. I was brought on by his predecessor, General Fletcher. Since General Klemath took over the army, many of the mountain-born have left the service. As the native-born forces dwindle through attrition, he replaces them with stripers. It’s his own fault if he can’t find enough native-borns.”