“That might be best, Prince Ekial.”

“Do we really have to keep waving ‘prince’ around like that?” Ekial demanded.

“It’s probably useful,” Veltan replied. “Rank seems to be terribly important to the outlanders, so let’s keep ‘prince’ right out where they can all see it.”

The discussions in what Veltan called his “map-room” seemed just a bit silly to Ekial. The Trogites and Maags seemed to enjoy all sorts of picky little details when they were planning a war, and the term “forts” seemed to come up every time they turned around. Evidently the notion of making things up as they went along had never occurred to them. Of course, they had to walk to their wars and back again. The horses of the meadowland made things much simpler, and, probably even more significant, the Malavi could take advantage of the unexpected when it happened to crop up. Ekial carefully covered his mouth with his hand every time he felt a yawn coming up.

“Tedious, aren’t they?” the tall native, Longbow, asked.

Ekial flashed him a quick grin. “I noticed that myself. Do they really think that they can predict every single thing that’s going to happen when they encounter their enemy?”

“The Maags are a little more flexible,” Longbow said. “The Trogites are very efficient, but they don’t like surprises.”

Ekial had been a bit curious about the clothing of the natives. Their clothes were made of leather, much like the clothes of the Malavi, but they were softer and more flexible, and they had a golden color.

“Does all this ‘venom’ business come anywhere at all close to the truth?” he asked the native.

“Oh, yes,” Longbow replied. “Our enemy uses venom instead of swords, spears, and bows. That makes minor wounds—or even scratches—deadly.”

“That might cause my people some very serious problems,” Ekial said. “If this venom can kill our horses, we’ll have to learn how to walk. That might take a lot of the fun out of this war.”

“How long ago was it when your people started to tame horses?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea, Longbow—hundreds of years, I’d guess. The meadowland of Malavi is the natural home of animals that eat grass. We ride horses, and we eat cows—or sell them to the Trogites.” Ekial paused. “Do you happen to know that young Trogite called Keselo?”

“Quite well,” Longbow replied.

“Would you say that he’s honest?”

“Yes. He always tells the truth. Why do you ask?”

“I met him last night, and he told me that the Trogite cattle-buyers have been cheating my people for a long time now. Why would he betray his own people like that?”

“Honesty. Keselo doesn’t like people who cheat.”

Ekial grinned. “When these wars are all over, you might want to keep one of your ears pointed in the direction of the Land of Malavi. It’s quite some distance away from your part of the world, but you might still be able to hear the screaming when we tell the cattle-buyers how much they’re going to have to pay for the cows they want.”

“Screaming is rather musical, I suppose,” Longbow said.

“I sort of like it,” Ekial agreed, “particularly when it’s coming from somebody who thinks he can swindle me. How much longer do you think it’s going to be until somebody here decides to go on up into the mountains to look at the real ground instead of that imitation Veltan laid out?”

“A few more days is about all.”

“I think I’d better have a talk with Dahlaine,” Ekial said. “I’d like to go along with those people. I need to see where this war will really take place. My people wouldn’t be very comfortable in a land covered with trees.”

“I’ll have a talk with Veltan,” Longbow said, “but if Dahlaine’s description of his Domain is at all accurate, he’ll want you and your friends in the central part—what his people call Matakan. It’s mostly grassland there.”

“Now this is starting to make some sense,” Ekial said. “When the people here were talking about that first war, the word ‘trees’ kept coming up, and I was just about to tell Dahlaine that I wasn’t the least bit interested. If there’s open grassland in his part of the Land of Dhrall, I’ll go along with him—if we can reach an agreement about how much he’ll be willing to pay, of course.”

3

Ekial felt just a bit queasy during the voyage north to the mouth of the River Vash on board Skell’s ship, the Shark. The Maags advised him that what they called “seasickness” was not at all uncommon. Even men who’d spent most of their lives at sea had occasional bouts of the malady.

His stomach settled down when the Shark sailed into the River Vash, and he started to feel better as soon as the ship stopped bouncing up and down on the waves.

There were some fairly extended discussions about just how many men should form what was called “the advance party,” but Ekial had already decided that he wanted no part of creeping through the trees to reach the land at the top of the narrow draw the shepherd had discovered. “I wouldn’t be much good at that,” he advised Longbow. “I don’t like trees and bushes all that much. I start to get very jumpy when I can’t see for at least five miles.”

“I think I can understand that,” Longbow said. “I feel much the same way when there aren’t any trees in the immediate vicinity. I’ll let you know what it’s like up there after I’ve had a chance to look it over.”

The scouting party left at first light the following morning, and Ekial drifted on over to the Lark, the ship of Skell’s younger brother. “I wonder if you could give me any details about the war last spring,” he said to Torl.

“It made me just a little nervous,” Torl admitted. “I guess trees are very pretty when you look at them from some way off, but when they’re gathered up all around me, it tends to tighten up my nerves.”

“I know the feeling,” Ekial said. “There aren’t very many trees in the meadowland, and I think we’d like to keep it that way.” He hesitated. “As I understand it, you Maags have been at war with the Trogites for quite a long time now.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a war, Ekial. We don’t have to fight them very often. When a Trogite ship-crew sees one of us coming, they usually just jump over the side into the water. They know that all we really want to do is rob them. We’ll kill them if it’s necessary, but we want their gold, not their lives.”