Kushiel's Dart

to them their rights and lands. Nor was he idle on our behalf during this time, but it took some doing, to rally an army willing to dare the crossing, to convince them it was in the interest of Alba to defend D'Angeline soil. And of course, with the kingdom new-settled under its rightful leader, it was needful that sufficient numbers remain to enforce Drustan's rule, held in his absence by Necthana.
    In the end, it was determined that some three thousand foot-soldiers and four hundred horse would make the crossing. To my surprise, Eamonn and Grainne and half the Dalriada would be among them. The others would return west to Innisclan, bearing word of victory, and bidding Rousse's waiting sailors to turn the ship homeward.
    "I have come this far," Eamonn said stubbornly. "If the harpists in Tea Muir sing of our deeds, they will not sing of how Eamonn mac Conor of the Dalriada ran home rather than get his feet wet!"
    Grainne his sister gave her lazy smile. "And I am minded to see the land that breeds such folk," she said, her grey-green eyes glancing at Quintilius Rousse, who coughed to hide his blush. She looked at me and winked, then; I repressed a smile. One could not help but like the Twins.
    Elder Brother's blessing or no, the crossing would be difficult, especially with the horses. Poring over maps, Rousse and Drustan decided it would be best done if we marched south, to the point where the Straits were narrowest. It would take us through the lands of the Eidlach Or, who had proved loyal; they would cheer Drustan's triumph. Elua willing, we would make landfall in northern Azzalle, in Trevalion, where we could make contact with Ghislain de Somerville, and perhaps the former Due de Trevalion, if Marc's recall from exile had been successful.
    If not for the fears that gnawed at me like a canker, it would have been a pleasant journey. Alba is a fair, green isle, and bountiful. It was an old Tiberian road along which we marched now, in a long, snaking train; along the eastern coast and to the south, those were the areas in which the armies of Tiberium had gained a solid foothold until Cinhil Ru united the tribes and pushed them back across the sea.
    Blessed Elua was still wandering in Bhodistan and no Master of the Straits had ruled the waters, then. From whence, I wondered, had that enigma come? I remembered Alcuin in Delaunay's library, ancient scrolls and codices spread across the table, pondering, his quicksilver mind trying to tease out the heart of the riddle. If he'd learned aught before he died, he'd not had time to tell me. I wished he were here now, that I might ask him. Having once seen that terrible face moving on the waters, I'd no wish to see it again, and I misliked trusting to the promise of a mystery.
    One of my fears, not the least of them; I feared for the Cruithne. Three thousand warriors on foot, four hundred mounted. It was not a great number, not set against the hordes of Skaldi. I had seen them fight, and they were fierce . . . fierce, and undisciplined. Cinhil Ru had ousted the Tiberians through sheer numbers, once the tribes all rallied to fight under the banner of the Cullach Gorrym; but the numbers favored Wal-demar Selig. And Selig had studied the tactics of Tiberium.
    Whether or not the Skaldi would follow orders, I doubted. Remembering the fractious tribal rivalries that pervaded the encampment at the Allthing, I could well imagine it would be hard to maintain the iron rank-and-file discipline that had made ancient Tiberium such a formidable foe. That was one point in our favor, albeit a small one.
    Selig still had the numbers. And the Allies of Camlach.
    So I brooded as we marched, each glorious day that dawned hastening my unease, the warm balm of sunlight serving to remind me of time's swift passage.
    "Will you take it all upon your shoulders, Phedre?" Joscelin asked me quietly one day, jogging his mount alongside mine. How he knew my thoughts, I don't know; I must have been wearing them on my face. "Can you slow time, or shorten the road we travel? I was reminded, not long ago, not to take upon myself that which is not mine to carry."
    "I know," I said, sighing. "I can't help but worry. And the Skaldi. . . ah, Elua, you've seen them! If the Cruithne are riding toward death, they're doing it at my word, Joscelin."
    He shook his head. "Not yours; Ysandre's. You but carried it for her. And'twas their choice, made freely."
    "It may have been the Queen's word, but I spoke it, and did all