behind him with a thump as the captain bowed.
"Sir," he said. "There's a man come wanting to speak with you. I thought
I'd best bring him to you myself."
"What's his business?" Balasar asked.
"Mercenary captain, sir. Brought his men down from Annaster."
"I don't need more forces."
"You'll want to talk with this one all the same, sir. His company?
They're from the Khaiem. Says they got turned out by the Khai Machi and
they've been traveling ever since."
"He's been in the winter cities?"
"For years, sir."
"You were right to bring him. Show the man in," Balasar said, then
stopped the captain as he headed to the door. "What's his name?"
"Captain Ajutani, sir. Sinja Ajutani."
IT HAI) BECOME CLEAR TO SINJA SHORTLY AFTER HIS ARRIVAL IN AREN TIIA'I'
he had misjudged the situation.
The company, such as it was, had passed through the mountains that
divided the Westlands from the lands that, while not directly
controlled, associated themselves with Machi and Pathai weeks before.
The men were young and excited to he on the march, so Sinja had pushed
them. By the time they'd reached Annaster, they were tired enough to
complain, but there was still a light in their eyes. They'd escaped the
smothering, peaceful blankets of the Khaiem; they were in the realm
where violence was met with violence, and not by the uncanny powers of
the poets and their andat. They had come to the place where they could
prove themselves on the bodies of their enemies.
Besides Sinja, only a dozen or so of the higher ranks had ever been in
battle. For the rest, this was like walking into a children's tale.
Sinja hadn't tried to explain. Perhaps they'd be able to find glory in
the soulcrushing boredom of a siege; perhaps they'd face their first
battles and discover that they loved violence. More likely, he'd be
sending half of them home to their mothers by midsummer, and that would
have been fine. He was here as much to stretch his legs as to keep his
master and friend the Khai Machi out of trouble with the Dai-kvo.
He hadn't expected to walk into the largest massing of military force in
memory.
Galt was in the southern wards, and it was there in force. All through
the Westlands, Wardens had forgotten their squabbles. Every gaze was
cast south. The common wisdom was that Galt had finally decided to end
its generations-long games of raid and abandon. It had come to take
control of the whole of the Westlands from the southern coast up to
Eddensea. There were even those who wondered whether it was going to be
a good season for Eddensea.
Sinja had done what he did best-listened. The stories he heard were, of
course, overblown. Men and women throughout the Westlands were in
different stages of panic. Someone had seen a thousand ships off the
coast. There had been agreements signed with Aren, but all the other
Wardens and all their children were to he slaughtered to assure that no
one would have claim to rule once the Galts had come through. There were