over

And I would not separate you from Gutrun yet again for the sake of my headstrong niece." He turned to the troll. "How many men would you take, Binabik?" "None, Prince Josua." "None?" The prince was astonished. "But what do you mean? Surely it would be safer to take at least a few good men, as you did on the journey to Urmsheim?" Binabik shook his head. "I am thinking that Miriamele and Simon will not hide from me, but they would be hiding with certainness from mounted soldiers pursuing them. Also, there are places Qantaqa and I can go that even riders of great skill, like Hotvig's Thrithings-men, cannot. I can be more silent, too. No, it is a better thing if I go by myself." "I do not like it," Josua said, "and I can see that your Sisqi does not like it either. But I will consider it, at least. Perhaps it would be best—there is more of me than just an uncle's love that fears what might happen if Miriamele and Simon fall into my brother's hands. Certainly something must be done." He lifted his hand and rubbed at his temples. "Let me think on it a while." "With certainty. Prince Josua." Binabik stood. "But remember that even Qantaqa's wonderful nose cannot be tracking a scent that has been too long on the ground." He bowed, as did Sisqi, then they turned and went out. "He is small—they both are," Josua said reflectively. "But not only do I wish the trolls were not leaving, I wish I had a thousand more like them. "He's a brave one, that Binabik, right enough," said Isgrimnur. "Seems sometimes as if that's all we have left." Eolair watched the fly buzzing near his horse's head for some time. The horse, but for an occasional ear-flick, seemed little bothered, but Eolair continued to stare. There was not much else to look at while riding through this westernmost part of Hernystir on the fringes of the Frostmarch, and the fly also reminded him of something he could not quite summon to mind, but which was nevertheless bidding for his attention. The Count of Nad Mullach watched the tiny black speck for some time before he finally realized why it seemed significant. This is the first fly I've seen in a while—the first since the winter came down, I think. It must be getting warmer. This rather ordinary thought gave rise to a host of other, less usual speculations. Could it be that somehow the tide has turned? he wondered. Could Josua and his people have accomplished something that has diminished the Storm King's power and pushed back his magical winter?

He looked around at the small, tattered troop of Hernystiri that rode behind him, and at the great company of Sithi who led them, their banners and armor ablaze with color. Could the fact that Jiriki's folk have entered the battle somehow have tipped the scale in our favor? Or am I making too much out of the tiniest of signs? He laughed to himself, but grimly. This last year and its attendant horrors seemed to have made him as omen-drunk as his ancestors of Hern’s day. His ancestors had been on Eolair's mind more than a little in the last few days. The army of Sithi and men riding toward Naglimund had recently stopped at Eolair's castle at Nad Mullach on the River Baraillean. In the two days the army was quartered there, the count had found another three score men from the surrounding area who were willing to join the war party—most of them more for the wonder of riding with the fabled Peaceful Ones, Eolair suspected, than out of any sense of duty or thirst for revenge. The young men who agreed to join the company were mostly those whose families had been lost or scattered during the recent conflict. Those who still had land or loved ones to protect had no desire to ride off to another war, no matter how noble or all-encompassing the cause—nor could Eolair have commanded them to do so: the landholders of Hernystir had not possessed that right since King Tethtain's day. Nad Mullach had been less harshly treated than Hernysadharc, but it had still suffered during Skali's conquest. In the short time he had, Eolair rounded up those few of his retainers who remained and did his best to set things on the right course again. If he did manage somehow to return from this mad war that was growing madder by the day, he wanted nothing more than to put down the reins of responsibility as soon as possible and live once more in his beloved Nad Mullach. His liege-folk had held out long against the small portion of Skali's army that had been left to besiege them, but when those prisoned within the castle's walls began to starve, Eolair's cousin and castellaine Gwynna, a stern, capable woman, opened the gates to the Rimmersmen. Many of the fine things that had been in Eolair's line since not long after Sinnach's alliance with the Eri-king were destroyed or stolen, and so were many objects that Eolair himself had brought back from his travels throughout Osten Ard.