Chapter 19: The Gates

The sun came up red behind the Chancellor's banners.

I stood on the road before the south gate of Hollin, sword on my hip.

The Ninth Host stood in ranks at my back.

Four thousand soldiers faced twelve thousand, in a flat grey plain with a cold wind blowing across it.

Jorund stood at my left, pale and upright, with a Redmoor elder holding his sleeve.

His wrists and throat were wrapped in green paste and clean linen, and he was very much alive.

Caelan stood at my right.

He had not slept in two days, and he was still smiling, and I loved him for it.

The old king's healer had come out on a litter, with her bundle of papers in her lap.

Eira stood beside her, a sword in each hand.

"General," Eira said.

"There are a lot of them."

"There are."

"Do we have a plan?"

"I'm going to talk."

"That's the plan?"

"That's the plan."

Eira grinned, wildly.

"I like it."

The Chancellor sat on a tall white horse in the center of his line, in plate armour with the chain of office over it.

He had the wax in his ears again.

I could see the little white plugs from sixty yards.

A herald rode out from his line with a banner.

"The Chancellor demands the surrender of the traitor Furnival and her Alphas," he cried.

"On pain of death to every soldier who stands with them."

"Then let me talk to your soldiers," I said.

The herald blinked.

I walked out alone onto the empty road between the two armies, and I did not draw my sword.

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