Kushiel's Mercy

ring, the gold knotted ring, back to her from Skaldia. Alais wouldn’t know the significance of the ring, but there was another item that would suit. I eased the gold torc from around my neck.
    “Here.” I handed it to Nuno Agirre. “Alais will know this. Her father the Cruarch gave it to me with his own hands on my wedding day. I wear it in honor of the wife and child I lost.”
    Nuno stowed it in his packs along with the letter. “Very well, your highness. May the sun shine brightly on your venture!”
    “Blessed Elua hold and keep you,” Sidonie said in reply.
    With that, Nuno mounted and departed, lifting one hand in farewell. He was riding one of the swift, tireless Amazigh horses; Janpier hadn’t stinted. We watched his figure dwindle as he reached the far end of the valley and began to climb toward the longed-for and forbidden pass. Sidonie’s lips moved in a silent prayer. I uttered one myself in my thoughts.
    “Do you think he’ll make it?” she asked me.
    I took her hand. “Of course. He knows the territory, and he strikes me as a man with his wits about him. I reckon his odds are better than ours.”
    We sent another courier in the opposite direction during those days of preparation. Paskal had been a great help to us in Roncal. With Janpier’s permission and all the enthusiasm of youth, he had managed to recruit a score of men to serve as Sidonie’s personal guard.
    A few of them were no older than he was, inflamed by the romanticism of the notion, but I was pleased to find that most appeared to be solid fellows, family men to whom the idea of beating a safe retreat to the mountains appealed more than dashing into battle. And two of them spoke Aragonian, which was a blessing.
    Once that was done, Paskal approached us with his idea. “Send me ahead to scout,” he suggested. “General Liberio sent men to the cities nearest Amílcar, to Badalon and Coloma and Tibado, begging them to rise up against Carthage. If any of them got through, I can tell them the Euskerri are coming. Perhaps it will convince them.”
    It was an excellent idea, albeit a dangerous one. And so Paskal was dispatched, brimming with enthusiasm. I watched him go, shaking my head and praying he’d find his way safely.
    Two days later we departed Roncal.
    Sidonie and I bade farewell to Bixenta, who had taken such good care of us. She embraced us both and uttered a blessing in the Euskerri tongue. And then we saddled our mounts and rode south with the others.
    There was no fanfare, no great proclamation. The Euskerri had gotten all of that out of the way during their debate. The decision to go to war had been made, so to war they went.
    There was also precious little in the way of a plan. Euskerri from all over the mountains were to make their way to the foothills above Amíl-car. Mayhap there would be six or seven thousand of them. Janpier was convinced of it. If it was true, we would have numbers to equal Astegal’s, as there were a good four thousand Aragonian soldiers in Amílcar itself, and thousands more dispersed across the country, subject to the terms of Roderico’s surrender.
    But even so, we had no way of mounting a coordinated attack; and the Euskerri’s idea of warfare was to swarm their enemy from a position of strength. We wouldn’t have that on the plains surrounding Amílcar. What we would have was a ragtag army of thousands with no form of organized leadership. As more and more Euskerri trickled toward the south, it became increasingly obvious that we would be mismatched on open ground.
    “If we simply fall on Astegal’s forces from behind, I’m afraid it will be a slaughter,” I said to Sidonie as we rode. “He might have gotten lax about drilling in New Carthage, but they’re disciplined enough to hold formation.”
    “I know.” She frowned in thought. “I get the sense the Euskerri are simply hoping to lure them into the hills and ambush them. I’m not sure Astegal’s going to be so easily lured.”
    “Any suggestions?” I asked. “You know him better than anyone, and it seems you’ve got as good a head for battle as anyone here.”
    Sidonie gave me a wry look. “Do you imagine the Euskerri would actually listen to me?”
    “No.” I smiled. “But they might listen to me.”
    “I’ll think on it,” she said.
    Our journey back to Amílcar took a day longer than our flight from it. Euskerri from east of Roncal had already reached our destination and made camp in a deep basin of a