“Best we assume they’ve guessed we’re doing something already,” Theodor cautioned. “But the charmed supplies are irreplaceable.”
“And we’ve another two dozen cannon tubes coming,” Alba said. “And more linen and powder.” She closed her logbook. “Well?”
“Well what?” Kristos snapped.
“How can we protect our investment?” Alba enunciated in frosty tones. “I cannot undo the lack of ships.”
“It was your damn job to get us ships!” Kristos exploded.
“Perhaps if they landed elsewhere,” I suggested. “Or… or if we stopped shipments for now?”
“None of that gets us a damn navy,” Kristos said through tight lips.
“Enough,” Alba said. She clutched the logbook as though it provided some sort of lifeline. “We can’t produce a navy in the next five minutes.”
“Sastra-set Alba is correct,” Sianh said. “Nothing will be decided right now. And it is a holiday, yet, is it not?”
“The apples are all eaten already,” I said with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry you didn’t get any.”
“Not all,” Alba said. She pulled a crock from next to the fire. “I took the liberty of stewing a few with a mite of sugar and some nutmeg.”
“Where did you get nutmeg?” I asked, incredulous. Our spice supply was worse than our sugar stores.
She pulled a case from her pocket and produced a whole nutmeg and a tiny silver grater. “It’s for emergencies,” she said. “I thought this counted.” Theodor shook his head with a laugh, and even Kristos cracked a smile. “I should like,” Alba added to Theodor, “to hear more of your violin.”
Theodor’s lips twitched into half a smile, but his eyes were still tired. “I don’t know—”
“I would like it, too,” I said, laying a hand on his knee. He softened and his smile broadened. As Alba doled out spoonfuls of apples in juices cooked to a thick spiced syrup, he retrieved his violin and tested out the strings.
A shuffle of sheet music lay in the bottom of the case. “This is your music from home,” I said, thumbing through them.
“They were in my portmanteau. I carried them to Isildi by accident, and then they’ve come with me ever since.”
“This is Marguerite’s composition,” I said. “The one she played before Midwinter, at Viola’s—the one that sounds like a winter snowstorm.”
“Play that,” Alba said. “I should like to hear some snow; it would remind me of home.” Sianh laughed, but he didn’t tease her as he usually did.
Theodor set the bow to the strings and drew a few tentative notes. The song started distant, cold, and gentle, the quiet of winter settling over even the bustle of Galitha City. Nothing would quiet the city now, I imagined, not even snowfall. But for a few still moments, I let the winds pour from Theodor’s violin and the driven snow scour the bloodstains from the streets, cover the scars and burns with pure white winter.
Then the drums punctured the cocoon of Theodor’s music.
Sianh was on his feet in an instant. Afternoon had slipped toward evening, but the last thick sunlight still bathed the camp. A surge of pride buoyed me as I saw how quickly the men leapt to their feet, spiced apples and rum rations abandoned as they slung bayonet belts and cartridge boxes over uniform coats. I was surprised to feel tears swelling at the back of my throat—their shabby holiday, abandoned in an instant for their duty.
Theodor settled his violin back into its case and sighed as he closed it, then we followed the others to the parade field where men formed into units and those units into companies.
“He’s sending the First,” Theodor said, nodding toward Sianh on a bright bay mare. She wasn’t a warhorse, but she was the best mount in Hazelwhite, according to Sianh.
“That’s good?” I asked. “Or that’s bad?”
“It means he thinks it’s quite serious,” Theodor said. “They’re the best trained.”
“I should go, too,” I said. “I should help.”
Theodor gripped my arm. “We don’t know where they’ll be, how to keep you safe.”
“None of us is safe if we’re overrun by Royalists. Me least of all.” I didn’t shake off his grip, but turned to hold him even more firmly. “This is why I am here. If I am of no use besides charming bandages and sewing coats, send me back to Alba’s convent.”
Theodor inhaled. “Fine, go with the First. Not on foot. Fig!” He waved him over. “Fig, saddle the dappled gray for Sophie.”
“The gray? For—oh.” He nodded quickly and ran for the stable.
“You will keep well behind them,” Theodor said. “Absolutely avoid—any kind of danger. Don’t even be seen—”
“I know,” I said. “I won’t act a fool.”
“And at the first sign of—if things aren’t going well—if.” Theodor’s mouth clamped into a firm line. “You run.”
“Of course,” I said, annoyed. I knew, full well, my limitations. I turned to follow Fig.
“Wait.” Theodor pulled me back, and for a moment I thought he would stop me from going. Instead he kissed me, rough and desperate. “I love you.”
I held on to him for a moment longer, returning that kiss with equal fervor despite a crowd of gawking soldiers nearby. Then I ran for the stable, where Fig had a stablehand readying a placid-looking gray mare for me.
Sianh had already ridden out with the troops, and I had little chance of catching up to him with my poor seat and uncertain skill at higher speeds. Instead, I fell in behind the lines of marching men, keeping a safe distance but sure that, if we arrayed into lines of battle, I could weave a charm over our troops. And, I thought through the possibility clearly, if my view was good, cast a curse over the enemy.
I hadn’t seen our men deployed on the field before. I wasn’t sure what to expect—but if I had been worried about the panic or fear Sianh had warned me about, it wasn’t evident here. At least, not yet. Their lines were orderly, their bearing military. Farm boys and dockworkers and fishermen, stoic and ready. Faintly, embedded into the very fibers of their coats, charm magic glowed protection for them.
I began to pull a charm, a simple and easy one, knowing that it would be more difficult to cast with the fray of battle and the troops moving in rapid order. The light built around me and I spread it like thick butter on warm bread over the marching columns, letting it sink into their coats and cling, tenuously. I held the charm, testing the concentration and energy required for its maintenance, pleased to find that it wasn’t taxing at all to hold the cloud of light. I built it, added to its intensity slowly, and tested holding it again. It was easy, like keeping a kite aloft on a pleasantly breezy spring day.
We moved across a wide plain, and quite suddenly, the Royalist troops crested a hill like a sunrise. There were hundreds—no, I amended. There could be thousands of them.
I felt a collective breath, a moment of pause, and then Sianh began shouting, the drums beat the orders, and the ranks began to move—not forward but out into long lines of battle. My charm constricted as I reacted, but I swiftly regained control of it, and spread it over the ranks as they fell from columns into lines of battle. Before the men the farthest back had joined the formation, the first units to fall in had their muskets loaded and ready. Meanwhile, I urged the horse toward a copse of trees near a bend in the road and dismounted. I couldn’t cast and control even a placid beast who might turn fretful when the gunfire started.