“Aren’t you forgetting the smoke the enemies unleashed on us down in Crystal Gorge, Andar?” Gunda said.

“I was just getting to that, Gunda,” Andar replied. “In that region, the prevailing wind comes in from the sea that lies along the east coast. That means that the smoke—if the enemy decides to use smoke again—will go from east to west. Our forts will be on the east side of the pass, and the wind will push at our backs and not at our faces. If the enemy is stupid enough to try burning greasewood trees, that prevailing wind will push the smoke into the enemy’s face, not ours.”

“Thank you, Andar,” Narasan said, rising to his feet again. “I think that just about covers everything, Lord Dahlaine. My men and I will build forts in Long-Pass and defend them from our enemies—for appropriate payment, of course. There is one stipulation I’m going to add this time, however.”

“Oh,” Dahlaine asked, “and what’s that?”

“You will keep your sister away from me. If she comes up there with that fat priest, Takal Bersla, my men and I will pack up and go home. I will not—under any circumstances—take orders from your sister. Keep her away from me, and I mean it.”

“Do you really dislike her all that much, Narasan?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘dislike,’ Lady Zelana,” Narasan replied. “‘Contempt’ comes much, much closer.”

Balacenia carefully covered her mouth so that nobody would be able to see the wicked grin that had just come across her face.