“That’s correct.”

“Then I do not understand how you plan to engage him.”

Harborough’s expression crumbled, his cheeks taking on a more ruddy glow. “We’ll step up our scouting and define a field of battle.”

“But he isn’t using traditional battlefield tactics,” Colin said. “He’s attacking unprepared civilians.”

Harborough’s chest puffed up and he looked ready to bellow at Colin. The general was definitely not a man who liked to be told he was wrong.

“Gentlemen,” Estora said firmly, “I must agree with Colin. I think the situation calls for another approach. The Mountain Unit keeps a base to the north, does it not?”

Harborough nodded. “But it’s more an outpost, too small to—”

Estora silenced him with a look. She then told them her idea and they both gawked at her, stunned.

When she finished, Harborough rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. “I’ll have to talk with my officers and strategists,” he said, “but I must admit, it’s a very compelling idea. It will, however, still require additional soldiers.”

“Of course,” she said, “but surely one unit could be spared to go to the wall, at least temporarily, even while we address the situation in the north. When the lord-governors assemble, it seems to me it would be a good time to suggest they take a more active role at the wall. The brunt of the problem has fallen on D’Yer, and yet it’s not just a D’Yerian problem. It’s a Sacoridian problem. Perhaps I can convince them to provide fresh provincial troops to help guard the wall.”

Both men looked pleased by her solution, and after Harborough left, Colin said, “If I may be so bold, Your Highness, you did very well with such difficult problems. I am not sure Zachary could have done better.”

After Colin left, Estora stood unsteadily and entered Zachary’s chamber, and sat at his bedside. She ought to have felt elated, or at least relieved, but instead she put her face in her hands and wept, her unconscious husband her only witness.

“You must wake up,” she whispered to him. “I am not strong enough for this. I cannot bear it alone.”

DAYS OF GRAY

Karigan stirred and opened her eyes to gray, Yates’ head still resting on her shoulder. They’d both fallen asleep with their backs against the tree. They ought to have organized a watch between the two of them. Not that Yates could actually watch, but he could at least listen for trouble.

Fortunately it was not raining as hard as it had been. She yawned, then detected movement from the corner of her eye. She looked, but saw nothing. Then there was movement again in her peripheral vision, this time in the opposite direction. She twisted around, but whatever it was was gone. She put her hand to the hilt of her sword and tried to stand, but the stinging pain ripped through her leg and she gasped. When she looked down she found it crawling with insects burrowing and biting into the wounds.

She screamed and slapped at her leg.

Yates started to wakefulness beside her. “What? What is it?”

Karigan kept pummeling her leg, regardless of the howling pain, until she realized there were no insects. None at all. Illusion? All she’d managed to do was start the wounds oozing again through their makeshift bandages.

“Karigan? What’s happening?” Yates reached for her, clamped his hands around her arm.

“N-nothing. I thought . . . I thought I saw something is all.”

“Are you sure it’s nothing?”

“I’m sure. Bad dream, or the forest is playing tricks on me.”

Yates did not seem to know what to say, so they sat in silence for some time, the wet forest drip-drip-dripping all around them. Finally he cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Uh, I’ve got a very full bladder. Think you can help me, er, find a place?”

Karigan did not want to stand. “I will tell you where to go.”

“Promise you won’t make me walk into a tree? Or fall down a hole?”

“No promises,” she said in a weak attempt at humor. “You’ll have to trust me.”

“There is no one I trust more,” Yates said very quietly.

A hollow place inside Karigan ached at his words. He trusted her, he trusted her to help him get through this, to get out of this forest. If she were seeing illusions, how could she trust herself? How could she take care of him when she was falling apart?

She took a deep breath. First things first. She directed him away, step by step, telling him when to lift his feet over a tree root or when to skirt a boulder. When he was some yards away, she gazed in the other direction to give him privacy while he took care of his needs. She’d have to take care of her own soon, but she just did not want to move her leg. She kept glancing at it to ensure there were no insects on it, real or imaginary.

When Yates finished, she guided him back. He remained standing. “I assume it’s morning.”

“It’s gray out,” Karigan replied, “so night is gone.”

“You still think we should stay here?”

“Yes, in case the others come looking for us.”

He nodded.

And so began a day of waiting, the mist wafting around as if it were a living mass that coiled between the trees and encircled them. Karigan and Yates ate their half-rations. Yates kept standing and sitting and standing, and looked like he wanted to wander off, but one jolting trip over a downed branch convinced him not to wander far. The monotony of gray throughout the day overwhelmed Karigan with the desire to nap and she had to shake herself awake more than once. The pain of her leg was tiring, and she feared whatever ichor the thorns contained had poisoned her. How bad? There was no way of telling.