Brynn sat astride Runtly near the far end of the long line of To-gai-ru warriors, her position showing her rank within Ashwarawu's band, which was mostly determined by the time when she had joined. Next to her, higher up the ranking, sat a most curious man, dressed in a tan tunic and breeches, finely made, underneath a heavy bearskin wrap, and with a marvelous sash that seemed black most of the time but every so often flashed a myriad of colors in the light, like a tightly woven rainbow.

"Another caravan," Brynn remarked, as the Behrenese train came into view far below in the crisp and clear winter-morning air. ?How stupid are our enemies?"

Brynn had been with Ashwarawu's band for three weeks, and this was the third caravan the rebel leader had found out, and now intended to de-stroy. The first two had proven to be easy victories, with the To-gai-ru war-riors sweeping down upon the wagons, slicing apart the drivers and the meager contingent of guards.

"The Yatol of Dharyan hears the desperation of To'in Ru," the monk replied, referring to a large and well-defended outposter settlement in the region, one that Ashwarawu had not yet gone against. ?Perhaps the Yatol's compassion for his own people blinds him. Or perhaps he does not under-stand our resolve."

Brynn always listened carefully to this man, Pagonel, because he had a manner of putting things into a different perspective. It wasn't always one with which she agreed, as now, but often over the last couple of weeks, she had found herself widening her opinions because of Pagonel's softly spoken words - particularly concerning the Behrenese. The others of Ashwarawu's band always referred to them with the derogatory "Wraps," but never did Pagonel. And often, Pagonel dared to assume the likely perspective of the individual Behrenese, though Ashwarawu surely didn't like him putting a human face on their enemies! A To-gai-ru rider came galloping back then, running the line to the mid-jje where Ashwarawu sat waiting.

"Twenty soldiers guarding seven wagons," the man reported. ?Just like the last one."

"We should take them as prisoners," Brynn remarked under her breath.

"Ashwarawu will not," Pagonel replied quietly.

Brynn turned to regard the mystic. She had not been speaking to him, hut could not deny the truth of his response. Ashwarawu had made it per-fectlv clear to all of them: no Behrenese inside the borders of To-gai would be allowed to live.

Not the women, not the children.

Fortunately for Brynn, she had not been forced into killing noncombat-ant women and children as of yet. Both of the previous caravans, and this one, too, apparently, had been comprised mostly of soldiers, warriors, in-struments of the imperial Yatols. Brynn could fight and kill such men, and a few warrior women, with clear conscience, for these were the invaders, the source of To-gai's ills, the people who would destroy the To-gai-ru culture and heritage.

The woman tried not to think of the inevitable conflict that would arise between her and the fiery, dominating leader when at last the warrior band encountered Behrenese noncombatants.

She turned her attention to the situation at hand, eyeing the caravan as it meandered down below. Brynn understood her part well enough, for in Ashwarawu's sweeping tactics, every role was the same. The raiders would wait until the caravan was directly below them. Then, with war whoops and weapons brandished high, the force would sweep down the sloping ground, slicing through the caravan like a swarm of angry bees, overwhelming the force with sheer numbers and sheer brutality, and with a deep-set confi-dence, the belief that a To-gai-ru warrior was simply superior to any Behre-nese fighter.

The caravan continued along, drivers and guards seeming oblivious to the threat.

And so it began, a whirlwind, a charge, two hundred battle cries rising above the wind.

The drivers and soldiers tried to turn the wagons, tried to get into some sort of defensive position, but the charge was too fast.

On Runtly, Brynn leaped ahead of those closest to her, the strong pony outdistancing the others. Eager for battle, the young ranger veered in toward the center, outpacing even the strong black-and-white horse of Ashwarawu.

She came to the caravan first, her sword alight with fire, slashing across to tell the nearest mounted Behrenese soldier. She veered immediately back to the left as she connected, to meet a second warrior, her pulsating shield deflecting his thrusting spear up high.

Brynn cut even sharper to the left, with Runtly understanding and ac-cepting the angle and smashing hard against the taller horse of the Behre-nese soldier. The horse jumped to the side and the man lurched over, and Brynn wasted no time in smashing the soldier across the face with her shield. She pulled Runtly up to a rearing stop and turn, and slashed her sword across.

The soldier's head dropped to the snow.

Runtly burst ahead, leaping the hitch between a pair of horses and the wagon behind them, then Brynn cut him sharply to the left, bringing her down the line along the undefended side of the caravan. She stabbed at each wagon driver in line, scoring a couple of hits, one fatal, and forcing three other drivers off the other side.

All semblance of defense was shattered as the frightened horses of those four wagons, some aided by a slap on the rump by Brynn, broke formation.

The ensuing frenzy was just the type of chaos favored by Ashwarawu and his warriors, and each Behrenese, soldier and driver, was quickly isolated from his kin, and quickly slashed, stabbed, or trampled.

It was over in a matter of moments, as fast as a passing avalanche. Only a couple of the Behrenese weren't quite dead, lying bleeding in the snow, cry-ing out in agony, crying out for mercy.

Brynn found Pagonel collecting one of the wayward wagons. She moved to help him, trying hard to ignore the cries of the wounded.

"It is not a pretty business," the mystic remarked, seeing the distress on the young ranger's face.

"I do not enjoy the killing," Brynn admitted. She grabbed up the loose reins of one team then, and started to turn them about, but she stopped, noting that Pagonel was glancing at her and then to the side, silently mo-tioning for her to take notice.

Brynn turned to see the To-gai-ru line reformed beside the bulk of the caravan, with Ashwarawu walking his horse slowly toward her.

"You fought well this day," the leader observed. ?As you have in the last encounters. As you did on the morning you were taken into my band."

"I was well-trained," Brynn replied. ?And am To-gai-ru." She managed a smile. ?And none have ever found a better mount..." She stopped, real-izing that the proud leader wasn't even listening to her.

"You will move up seven places in the line, closer to me, I think," Ash-warawu said offhandedly.

Brynn knew that she should be thrilled, but something about his tone and demeanor had her quite concerned.

"After you finish the task," he said, and he slowly turned his head to re-gard one of the Behrenese soldiers lying upon the ground, writhing in pain.

Brynn looked at the man, understanding what was expected of her. But this task hit her hard, assaulting her sensibilities. It was one thing to do bat- inst an enemy, one she profoundly hated, but how could she view a ling helpless upon the ground in such a light as that?

ooked back to Ashwarawu, to see him staring hard at her, not blink-ing, not flinching.

Brvnn turned to Pagonel for support, for anything, and found him sitting there staring alternately at her and at the leader, as if weighing both.

The seconds slipped past.

"Finish the task," Ashwarawu said slowly and deliberately.

Brvnn found it hard to draw breath. She understood the depth of this trial, understood that if she was not strong, her place among the raiders, none all the To-gai-ru, would be forever diminished. She thought to argue about taking captives again, but knew that Ashwarawu was uncompromis-ing on this point. The raider band did not have the resources to keep pris-oners, to feed them or even to watch over them. And since no Behrenese soldiers or caravan drivers would offer any bargaining leverage whatsoever with any of the Yatol leaders, they were worthless to Ashwarawu.

Brynn scanned the leader and the others again, wishing that she had a way out, but understanding that she most certainly did not. She slid down from her pony; she could have done the deed astride, but she didn't want to include Runtly in the dirty business.

Her bloody sword in hand, Brynn walked up to a wounded Behrenese. She chose the most grievously wounded man first, one who could not plead to her, could not even look her in the eye. He gasped for breath, blood pouring from his mouth with each exhalation, and Brynn knew that even if Ashwarawu had agreed to taking prisoners, there was nothing that she and the others could do to help this one.

JuraviePs warnings about the cruelty of war echoed in the woman's mind.

She struck fast and cleanly, stabbing the man through the heart, stilling his body and ending his misery.

The next wounded man looked up at her as she stood over him, his eyes pleading for mercy. He even managed a slight shake of his head, begging her not to strike.

Brynn looked up, then closed her eyes. She remembered keenly the mo-ment when her parents had been murdered, purposely replaying that awful scene in her head again.

She struck, imagining that she was stabbing the man who had killed her parents.

And then she walked away. She held her sword out to the side and called rorth its fire, using the flames to burn away the bloodstains.

She heard the cries of encouragement, the cheers, from the To-gai-ru, ?tough she did not feel much like a hero at that moment. She saw the ap-proving look of Ashwarawu.

Or was it an approving look? She had to wonder, for somewhere in the leader's powerful expression, Brynn saw something more, and something far less. He had chosen her to carry out the executions, under the rational-ization of glory, that she had performed well and so deserved the task of finishing the battle. But in looking at him then, Brynn understood that Ash-warawu had just tested her, and perhaps, that he had just tried to diminish her, in her own eyes if in no one else's. Had Ashwarawu just taken a bit more control over Brynn?

The woman looked to Pagonel, who sat astride his horse, holding Runtly's reins. She saw a sadness there, and a measure of sympathy that she had not expected.

She took the reins and pulled herself up onto Runtly's strong back, the pony accepting her, as always. She took some comfort in that, for Runtly would not judge her, as she could not help but judge herself.

"They were utterly overrun," Wan Atenn reported to Yatol Grysh in the audience chamber of the great temple in Dharyan. ?The dead of our people were left on the frozen ground and all but one destroyed wagon was taken." The Chezhou-Lei warrior said it all matter-of-factly, as if the loss of a few soldiers and drivers was no big event.

Yatol Grysh s stern look melted away. ?And the foodstuffs were prepared as I ordered?" he asked, grinning.

"They were."

At Grysh's side, Carwan Pestle shifted in his seat and put a curious look over the Yatol.

"The food was poisoned," Grysh happily explained. ?That caravan had to ride back and forth several times before the rebels even took notice of it!"

"You sent them out there to be sacrificed?" Pestle asked, in surprise and not in judgment.

"Ashwarawu is a fool, but a dangerous one," Grysh replied. ?Of course, he may well be a dead fool now."

The Yatol nodded, trying very hard not to glance in the direction of any of the several slaves - To-gai-ru all - who were working in the temple. He had no doubt that word of the treachery would soon spread to the steppes, and to Ashwarawu's ears, but that was part of the fun of it, was it not? He looked to the stunned Carwan Pestle, and was a bit disappointed that his protege hadn't caught on to all of this sooner. None of the outposter towns truly needed any supplies, after all, so why had Grysh sent out three sepa-rate caravans?

Pestle was too innocent, the Yatol reasoned, to understand the need of such sacrifices. The first two caravans were necessary predecessors to the third batch of poisoned supplies.

Of course, even the third was no more than a ruse. There were no poi-sons available in any quantities that could kill a large group of men after and days of sitting in foodstuffs that would not be readily detectable even casual observation.

N this too was a ruse, designed to bolster Ashwarawu's confidence - in own forces, in the incompetence of his enemies, and in the spy network h t was so obviously working for him out of Dharyan. No doubt one of the ' rkers in the temple would pass the word of the poisoned food, and an-ther wretched Ru would rush out in the dark of night to find the rebel Grvsh was glad he didn't have to try to hide his sly smile, because he doubted that he could at that time.

He was drawing the rebel fool in, and he had eight hundred trained, pro-fessional soldiers at his disposal.

"You are surprised that I take so bold and decisive a step against the fool rebels?" Grysh asked Pestle.

"No, Yatol."

"Yes, you are," Grysh corrected. ?Why not wait until the spring, after all, when we could send the might of Jacintha's army against the rabble and be done with them quickly and easily?" Grysh paused, studying the man, mocking him with a wry grin. ?Yes, you are surprised, and so our next visi-tor this day should help you to understand."

With that, he looked to Wan Atenn and nodded, and the Chezhou-Lei relayed the signal to one of his guards by the great double doors. That man turned out to the hall and clapped his hands sharply, twice, and in walked Woh Lien and Dahmed Blie, the Chezhou-Lei leaders of the two visiting twenty-squares.

"Yatol," Woh Lien said, snapping into a formal bow.

"Greetings to you, Chezhou-Lei."

"We have come to inform you that our duties here are done. The sup-plies have been delivered and distributed. Your requested eight-square has been selected from among the finest of our warriors."

"And so you plan to leave?"

"That is our command, Yatol."

To return to Jacintha, where you can chase birds from the fountains?" Grysh asked incredulously. ?You are warriors, my friend, and here is a war for you to fight. You would turn from that to return to a city basking in peace and security?"

Lhezhou-Lei Woh Lien glanced nervously over at his companion, who seemed equally ill-at-ease. ?It is not our decision to make, Yatol."

Yet you are the commanders of your respective forces," Grysh coun-tered. ?Surely you hold discretion in emergency situations."

True, Yatol. But there is no such emergency. Not at this time, at least, and the God-Voice has determined that we are to return, at the first break in the weather."

He continued, but Grysh held up his hand, motioning for him to relent ?Go, then," he said, looking from Carwan Pestle to Wan Atenn, his expres-sion perfectly conveying a sense of worry - an emotion he certainly did not feel. ?And let us pray that the wretch Ashwarawu was the first to taste of the last raid's spoils!"

The Yatol, feigning anger and frustration, dismissed them all, then walked with a huff from the grand room, back to his private quarters, an honestly confused and concerned Carwan Pestle close behind.

But Yatol Grysh was not concerned. Not at all. He had a measure of this rebel, Ashwarawu, now. He was beginning to recognize the man's patterns and he knew that he was adding to the self-confidence that would ulti-mately bring the man down.

It would be an enjoyable spring in Dharyan.

"You are unnerved," Pagonel remarked to Brynn the day after the cara-van raid. Brynn was sitting off to the side of the camp cleaning her sword, alone and apparently calm and composed, but the perceptive mystic had seen through the facade. ?It is one thing to kill a man in combat - the rush of fear and the need for self-defense allows for conscious justification. But it is quite another to kill a man lying helpless on the ground. Be relieved, my friend, that there were no uninjured Behrenese after the raid, no men who had just been knocked aside and captured."

"You presume much."

Pagonel gave a disarming smile. ?A soldier invading your homeland de-serves death, perhaps."

"Any Behrenese entering To-gai uninvited deserves death," Brynn said with as much conviction as she could muster.

"Do they?" The question was spoken, again, with perfect calm and the appearance of sincere reasoning. ?If you happened upon a settlement and found a young Behrenese mother with her child, would you kill them?

Without guilt?"

Brynn stared hard at him.

"You would put them on the road to their own land, perhaps," the mys-tic remarked. ?And likely with enough supplies so that their road would not be dangerous."

Brynn went back to her work on the sword, her expression intense. ?You presume much."

"Presumptions, perhaps, but based upon considerable observation," the mystic explained, taking a seat beside the young ranger. ?I watched you at your practice this morning."

The statement froze Brynn in place. She had walked off far from the To-gai-ru encampment early that morning to practice her bi'nelle dasada, the elven sword dance, a ritual that she had been neglecting far too often of late. In the elven valley, Brynn had performed the dance nude, but since it "winter here on the steppes, with that constantly chill wind cuttings the iced grasses, she had worn a slight shift that morning. Still, el's proclamation caught her off guard, and made her feel no less violent than if she had been dancing nude. Bi'nelle dasada was an intensely rsonal exercise, a disciplined series of elaborate motions designed to vsically train the muscles in the motions of battle, but even more than to extend the consciousness, to heighten the bond between body and mind.

Slowly, the young woman looked up at Pagonel.

"We of Jhesta Tu have similar routines," the mystic explained. ?Quite similar, though we rarely fight or practice with weapons. The Chezhou-Lei warriors do, as well. As do certain factions of the Abellican Church to the north. I am curious as to how you came to learn such a dance, for yours, I believe, is quite extraordinary."

"It is not your business," Brynn said, with all the warnings of Dasslerond that bi'nelle dasada was a secret not to be shared echoing in her mind. She went back to her work on the sword again, pointedly.

"One day we will speak of it, I hope. But of course, the choice is yours. As for the events of yesterday, I am glad to see that you are troubled by them."

Brynn looked back at him again, her expression skeptical, though Pagonel could not be sure if she was trying to deny the premise of his statement, that she was troubled, or if she was merely confused that he should be glad to witness her guilt.

"You trouble yourself needlessly," he explained. ?Those men were dead anyway - by Ashwarawu's hand if not by the wounds they had already re-ceived. And you struck with mercy and compassion, which is more than most would have done, and is as much as the doomed soldiers could have expected. Our mighty leader would not allow his reputation to be dimin-ished for the sake of Behrenese soldiers."

"Should he?" Brynn asked, her tone making it fairly clear that she sided with Pagonel on this issue.

"I know not," the mystic admitted. ?Ashwarawu's reputation serves him, and To-gai, well, I believe. Can the cost of conscience be weighed against that?"

'If you do not believe that the Behrenese must be forced from To-gai, then why are you here?"

I do not know," the mystic honestly replied, and he gave a self-deprecating chuckle. ?That is a question that I must answer myself. Still, I beg that you consider the question I posed to you, because if we happen upon a village - Behrenese that contains women and children and other noncombatants, i may well find yourself in need of the answer. Will you kill an innocent cnud at Ashwarawu's insistence? Or are you so convinced that there are no innocent Behrenese?"

"Are you intent upon sowing dissent within our band?"

Pagonel chuckled again. ?I speak with none of the others, unless they ask something of me."

"Then why do you take such an interest in Brynn Dharielle?"

"I saw you at your practice this morning," the mystic replied, and he let it go at that.

Brynn started to look back at him, but was interrupted by a figure approaching - a quite intimidating figure, large and chiseled.

"Another glorious victory!" Ashwarawu proclaimed. ?Will the trail of Ashwarawu end before it has run right through Jacintha?"

Brynn smiled at him, but his reference to himself in the third person set-tled uneasily within her. Mostly because Brynn did not believe that Ash-warawu was speaking of ?Ashwarawu" as anything greater than himself.

"But the caravans will cease, I fear," the rebel leader went on. ?Fat Yatol Grysh will not dare to send many more against the power of Ashwarawu. We may have to destroy a few outposter settlements to garner our supplies through the winter."

Brynn's facade cracked for just a moment as images of herded noncom-batants flashed through her mind.

"Or maybe we go right into Behren, eh?" Ashwarawu said with a wicked grin.

Brynn shrugged and held her smile.

"And what of you, mystic?" Ashwarawu asked, turning abruptly to Pagonel. ?Have you decided why you have joined with us?"

"Contemplation follows its own hourglass," Pagonel replied.

Ashwarawu looked at him incredulously for a moment, then exploded into a great burst of laughter. ?Well, take your time, then!" he said. ?You were helpful in controlling the horses, even if you did not fight. Just con-tinue to be helpful. Continue to earn the food I give to you."

Pagonel decided not to point out the fact that his skilled foraging was bringing in far more food than he was consuming.

"A curious pair, if ever I saw one!" Ashwarawu said, stepping back and surveying Brynn and Pagonel. ?Are you certain that you are not father and daughter?"

Brynn winced. Ashwarawu had spoken the words in jest, obviously, but any reference to her father stung. The woman's expression quickly reverted, though.

Ashwarawu cleared his throat, obviously seeing the discomfort he had brought to Brynn. ?Well, you fought magnificently yesterday," he said. ?I do not relinquish the pleasure of killing the wounded and captured Behre-nese easily!"

Brynn merely smiled, hearing Pagonel's warnings in her head.

"Come with me, my warrior," the imposing leader said, and he held his hand out toward a confused Brynn. el glanced at Pagonel, but his expression offered little advice, and so ?ok Ashwarawu's hand, stood and sheathed her sword, and followed the large young man away.

' He walked her right past the encampment - and brynn didn t miss sev-1 rather lewd snickers she heard from men along the perimeter - to a small tent set up in the distance.

Inside were piles of furs, and Ashwarawu bade Brynn to sit down. She jjd so moving to the far side of the small tent, and though she had her back sainst one side, and Ashwarawu had his against the opposite side, their legs were practically entwined.

The leader began taking off some of his layers of furs, but Brynn thought nothing of it. The tent was warm; no doubt, heated stones had been placed under the furs.

"When we chased you about the valley on that first day of your arrival, you proved your skill," Ashwarawu said. ?In the battles against the Wraps, you have proven your worth. Your strength and your will."

Stripped to one shirt and simple breeches, the young man came forward suddenly, going to his knees before the woman. ?I feared that I would not find a woman suitable for Ashwarawu," he said, and he moved right in, wrapping Brynn with his powerful arms and pressing his lips against hers.

A rush of confusion washed through Brynn. On the most basic level, Ashwarawu was undeniably handsome, with his strong features and honed muscles, the epitome of To-gai-ru manhood. Add to that the woman's feel-ings of duty, that her role within Ashwarawu's band at that time was what-ever Ashwarawu determined her role to be, and she did not immediately refuse.

Ashwarawu pulled her down to the furs and his hands started roaming about her body, sliding under the furs she wore. He kept kissing her, and started to undress her.

Brynn could not deny some of the tingles his touch excited in her, in ways that the innocent young woman had never known. But neither could she deny her instincts that this was not right. Not for her.

Not then and there.

She pushed Ashwarawu away, or tried to, for the powerful young man Just grabbed on tighter and pressed his lips against hers more forcefully.

Brynn slipped her hand under his and gave a subtle twist, freeing her enough to pull back.

"No," she said.

It she had picked up a knife and stabbed it into his chest, Ashwarawu's expression would have been no less incredulous.

"You deny Ashwarawu?"

He lessened his grasp as he spoke, and Brynn wriggled free and went back to sitting against the side of the tent.

1 do not even know you," the woman replied. She hated the wounded look on his face, the expression that she had put there. For a moment, she felt very foolish and very ashamed that she was not more of a woman.

"I am Ashwarawu!" he said. ?I am the bringer of hope to the To-gai-ru I am he whom the Behrenese fear!"

"In all those things, you speak truly," Brynn admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

"You should feel proud that I have chosen you to lie with me!"

Brynn looked at him hard, her expression sufficient to keep him at bay for indeed he had started to advance again. She tried desperately to sort through the myriad feelings and thoughts that were swirling about her mind, but all that she could ask at that moment was, ?Is gratitude a reason to make love? ?

Ashwarawu sat back, looking very much as if he did not understand.

"I do not know!" Brynn spouted. ?I am not sure."

"Pleasure me," the man demanded. ?Let me pleasure you, for tomorrow we might die upon the field!"

On one level, his words made perfect sense to Brynn. Did she wish to die a virgin, after all? In truth, to that moment, she had hardly thought about it, for her life had been full of so many other joys and responsibilities.

On another level, though, Brynn could not dismiss her feeling that this was not right for her. Not at that time.

So many things about Ashwarawu seemed appealing - his appearance not the least of them. But so many other questions remained in the back of the woman's mind.

"No," she said with conviction. ?I do not know you. I serve you with my blade, and with my body in battle."

"You would serve me well tonight," the man complained.

"That is not a role I choose," Brynn said, and though the conflicts re-mained within her, she was on solid emotional ground, had made up her mind and would not be persuaded otherwise.

"Ashwarawu!" came a voice from outside, some distance away.

The To-gai-ru leader glanced at the tent flap, then back at Brynn, coldly, but then moved and pushed the flap aside.

"Barou is very sick," the distant voice explained. ?And others are feeling ill."

Ashwarawu grabbed his furs and crawled for the tent entrance. He glanced back at Brynn once, his expression clearly conveying his demand that the events of that night be kept secret between them. ?We will finish this another time," he said.

Brynn didn't know if he was referring to the discussion or the lovemak-ing, and she even got an uneasy feeling that there was a veiled threat in his statement.

She collected herself then and started to follow, but paused once, consid-ering the irony of it all.

On the field the day before, Ashwarawu had been able to make her put A he questions of her conscience and take the lives of the two wounded here he had essentially tried to do the same thing, to use her as an ion of his wishes, whatever her own desires might have been, nuch of what Ashwarawu did offended Brynn at a very instinctive level* and yet, he was proving to be effective. Undeniably. Was this the definition of a leader?

Brynn did not know.

That night, Barou, a young warrior still in his teens, died, and many oth-ers grew sick. It didn't take the To-gai-ru long to realize that the men had been poisoned.

Pasonel stepped in, offering to examine all of the foodstuffs. No one auite understood what the mystic meant to do, but no one questioned him, either.

He approached each bundle of food solemnly, falling deep within himself, and, as an Abellican monk employing hematite might do, he sent his sensi-bilities right into the food, visualizing any ?sickness" within the foodstuff.

He told them which of the supplies were fit to eat, and which were not, and though many sent questioning looks his way, unable to comprehend his methods and therefore doubting his conclusions, Ashwarawu nodded his agreement.

The powerful leader walked up to the first bundle Pagonel had pro-claimed as safe, lifted the meat to his mouth, and tore off a huge chunk.

"So, you have found a way to be useful!" Ashwarawu declared, and all of the raiders began to cheer for Pagonel.

Brynn watched it all, scrutinizing Ashwarawu's every move, studying how he played upon the emotions of the crowd, turning their hope to the benefit of his own stature, but also to the general good feeling and morale. It was obvious to her that Ashwarawu understood that the poison placed in the food could have more emotional impact than the physical toll it had in-flicted. The poison could have shaken the confidence of the raiders in themselves, in the weaknesses of their enemy, and in their leader.

That was all behind them now, suddenly, as long as Pagonel's proclama-tions about the food proved accurate.

Brynn, who understood the deeper levels of magic and perception be-cause of her time with the elves, was beginning to recognize the depth of this Jhesta Tu mystic, and had no doubt that his decisions about the food-stuffs would prove correct.

They did indeed over the course of the next week.

Several uneventful days followed, as the raider band regrouped. As with 2 period following almost every victory, more soldiers came in to join with mighty Ashwarawu. Brynn watched the leader closely throughout that time enod, measuring his words and his actions, trying to determine what he ? doing that worked well, and what seemed not so effective. All the while, she couldn't dismiss the obvious fact that Ashwarawu was really a very young man, younger than she was herself.

What he lacked in maturity and tact, though, he made up for in sheer bravery and ferocity.

That was his secret, Brynn decided. His bravery was dominant, so much so that his mere presence lent strength and courage to those around him as it had when he had lifted the meat Pagonel had said was untainted to his lips and taken a huge bite of it. He had not ordered a lesser to taste the food. And in battle, Ashwarawu did not follow his warriors in.

No, he led, howling and cheering, inviting the enemy to fight him.

Also to the man's credit, Ashwarawu did not pressure Brynn in those days, nor did he try to ignore her. He treated her pretty much as he treated everyone else - except that Brynn often caught him stealing glances at her.

Brynn awoke one morning to find the camp all abuzz. She found Pagonel not far from her tent flap, the mystic looking on in amusement as many of the other raiders flocked about a middle-aged To-gai-ru woman.

"Ya Ya Deng has arrived," the mystic explained, though the name meant nothing to Brynn.

"An informant from Dharyan," Pagonel went on in response to Brynn's blank stare. ?Her cousin works in the great temple of Dharyan and often overhears Yatol Grysh and his leaders."

Brynn nodded and turned back to regard the woman.

"She came in to tell us of the poisoned food," Pagonel went on. ?Though she recognized that she would likely arrive too late."

"How convenient for Yatol Grysh," Brynn remarked off-handedly, and though she wasn't really suspicious, the thought did cross her mind that any such informant had to be handled carefully.

"Her information has been reliable on many matters, I am told," Pagonel replied. ?Ya Ya Deng is among Ashwarawu's greatest assets."

"She must be loyal to have come all the way from Dharyan, though she knew that her information would not be timely."

"She came in to inform Ashwarawu, as well, that the two twenty-squares of Jacintha soldiers who arrived in Dharyan will not be staying, nor will they be heading west to To-gai," the mystic said. ?Apparently, they are to return to Jacintha on the first true break in the weather."

Brynn looked at him curiously. ?Twenty-squares?"

"Ashwarawu learned of their arrival in Dharyan. Perhaps that is why we have not been skirting the borderland of late. I believe that our leader feared that his reputation might have grown too strong too far to the east too quickly, catching the attention of enemies he is not ready to face."

Brynn nodded, understanding well why Ashwarawu would welcome the news that eight hundred trained and well-outfitted soldiers were turning back to the east instead of coming his way.

"A fine line, is reputation," Pagonel warned. ?While it benefits among al- inspiring confidence and support, its effects on the enemy are varied. one hand, how much stronger are your forces if the enemy is in fear because of your reputation. On the other, the game is dangerous ,ur enemy is powerful enough to destroy you, as the Chezru Chief  certainly is, concerning all of To-gai.

Brvnn nodded but did not reply. This was an important lesson, she knew, and one that she would not forget.

Winter's grasp grew thin on the land early in God's Year 841. Several terms reared above the plateau, only to fizzle as they crossed out of the mountains, turning to a gentle rain or disappearing altogether.

On the last day of the second month, with all of the fanfare they had brought upon their arrival to Dharyan, the two Jacintha twenty-squares marched out of the western Behrenese city. They left behind the sixty-four soldiers Yatol Grysh had requested the previous summer, but seemed no less diminished as they marched, rank upon rank, down the eastern road.

They crossed through Bohgadee, the next Behrenese city in line, two days later, again with horns blaring, and then continued on down the east-ern road, into the sandy desert, empty for many miles before the next oasis and city.

And there, in the empty wasteland, the army of Jacintha executed their turn, with Chezhou-Lei Dahmed Blie's group turning south and back to the west, and Chezhou-Lei Woh Lien's group turning north and then back to the west.

Advance groups, posing as simple scouting parties, had already prepared their camps, in the foothills along the mountains northwest of Dharyan, and in the cave complexes along the plateaus southwest of Dharyan.

There they would wait for proud Ashwarawu to err.