"We need to ride, Tirnya. We've done what we can."

She knew he was right. When Enly spurred his mount to a canter, she did the same with Thirus.

They rode for more than a league, stopping periodically to mark the progress of those on foot. The army kept up a swift pace, marching as if another Fal'Borna army pursued them. Tirnya could see her father leading the soldiers, and Stri beside him. She also spotted Gries, Hendrid Crish, and many of the captains. She lamented the loss of every life, of course, but she couldn't help but be relieved to see that most of those who led the army had survived. She noticed that the Mettai were near her father, too. Most of them seemed to have made it. Some of the horses had lagged behind until Tirnya finally lost sight of them. But many of the animals had followed her and Enly.

At last, as Enly and Tirnya waited once more for the army to catch up with them, she saw her father raise a hand, indicating to the soldiers behind him that they should halt. Enly and Tirnya rode back to join them.

"I want a count made of survivors!" Jenoe was shouting as they reached him. "Every captain should make a count of his or her lead riders, and then every lead rider should make a count of the men under his or her command. Quickly! I want to know how many we've lost." He turned to Tirnya and Enly. "That goes for the two of you, as well."

"Of course, Father."

"How many horses did we lose?"

"We're not sure," Enly answered. "I'm hoping some of the stragglers will find us eventually. But right now we've got maybe half the number we started with."

Jenoe nodded, though he looked disgusted. Turning to Fayonne, he said, "How did this happen? I find it hard to believe that the Mettai of old would have been valued as allies had every one of their spells killed Eandi as well as Qirsi."

"It must have been the wind, Marshal," the eldest told him.

"Mother."

All of them looked at Mander, but before the young Mettai could say more, Fayonne shot him a look that could have kindled wet wood.

"You should see to your men, Marshal," the old woman said. "I want to make certain that all of my people are all right."

Jenoe eyed her and Mander for several moments. "Yes, of course," he said at last. "But we're not done here, Eldest. I have questions, and I'm going to expect answers."

She hesitated, then nodded.

"Go," Jenoe said to Tirnya and Enly. "Check on your companies and then come back here."

Tirnya and Enly exchanged glances and then went in search of their men.

Tirnya found Oliban, Crow, Qagan, and her other lead riders in a small cluster not far from where she'd been speaking with her father. Oliban spotted her first and said something to the others, who turned to greet her. None of them appeared hurt or any the worse for their brush with the Mettai spell. But their expressions were bleak, and Tirnya felt her heart begin to pound.

"Report," she said as she approached them, her mouth suddenly dry. She looked around, feeling panic rise in her chest. "Where's Dyn?"

"He's with th' others, Capt'n," Oliban said. "He wasn' hurt."

"Good. But we lost men, didn't we?"

"Not many compared with th' others," Oliban told her. "Eighteen, t' be exact. Most o' them were lost in th' mess as we retreated from th' battlefield. By th' time we knew they were missin'." He stopped, shaking his head. "We were lucky we didn' lose more. There are companies from Waterstone and Fairlea tha' were wiped out entirely. And Enly's and Stri's men didn' fare too well."

Eighteen men. It could have been so much worse. They'd been lucky to be near the Mettai when the Fal'Borna attacked with their shaping power, and far from the flank when the poison began to drift back over the men of Stelpana.

"What happened to the other Qalsyn units?" she asked.

"Th' white-hairs got 'em," Crow said. "The shapers. Some weren' dead, bu' there was nothin' we could do t' help 'em once tha' spell started killin' th' Waterstone army."

Oliban looked briefly at the other lead riders before meeting Tirnya's gaze again. "Capt'n, tha' Mettai magic… Is i' really worth this?"

Not long ago, a few days perhaps, she would have been angered by the question. But not after today. Somehow the poison spell had changed everything. Killing the Fal'Borna as they slept had appalled her, and fighting off the great magical wolves had been a trial for all of them. But they'd been as defenseless as the white-hairs against the Mettai's poison. The spell killed indiscriminately. It was worse than Fal'Borna magic, and Tirnya hadn't believed she'd ever think that about anything.

"I don't know," she told him. "I thought so before, but I'm not sure now. I'll speak with my father and Marshal Crish and the other captains," she said. "We'll need to decide what to do next."

Oliban appeared surprised by her candor. "All righ', Capt'n."

She started to walk away, but stopped after only a couple of strides and faced her riders once more. "I'm glad all of you are all right," she said. Then she grinned. "Even you, Crow."

The men laughed.

"Thank you, Capt'n," Oliban said.

She nodded to them and went to find her father.

She and Enly were the last two captains to report to the marshals. The others stood by silently as Jenoe and Hendrid spoke in low voices. Tirnya noticed that several of the Fairlea and Waterstone captains weren't there, including the man who had fallen in the Silverwater and been rescued by Gries so many days back. Gries was there, but Tirnya avoided his gaze, remembering how angry she had been with him just a few hours before.

Thinking of this, she looked around for the merchant. He stood with his horse a good distance away from the army and its leaders.

"How are your men?" Jenoe asked Enly and Tirnya.

"I lost eighteen," Tirnya told him.

"You were lucky," Enly said dully. "I lost forty-six, including four of my riders."

She looked at him. "I'm so sorry, Enly."

"Eighteen and forty-six," Jenoe repeated. "The army of Qalsyn was fortunate. We lost fewer than two hundred. Waterstone lost more than six hundred. Fairlea nearly four hundred." He rubbed a hand over his face. "More than a thousand men. Add that to the hundreds who died at the last sept we fought and we've lost more than a third of our army, and we're still not to Deraqor."

"I hesitate to bring this up again, Marshal," Gries said. "But perhaps we should reconsider Torgan's offer."

"Yes, I noticed that he's still here," Jenoe said, making no effort to hide his annoyance. "Was that your doing, Captain?"

Gries shook his head. "No, Marshal. The Fal'Borna attacked before he could leave, and I think he followed us when the poison spell reached our lines."

"I ordered him away from here," Jenoe said. "I haven't changed my mind."

"He can help us defeat Deraqor. We wouldn't need wolves or eagles or poison."

"You'd still need our magic."

All of them turned. Mander and Fayonne were walking toward them, the young man in the lead, his mother trailing behind him looking pale and small.

"Yes, Mander, we would," Jenoe said. "Is that a problem?"

"I believe it is, Marshal," the young Mettai said.

His mother looked at him, narrowing her eyes. But she remained silent, and after a moment dropped her gaze again.

Jenoe frowned. "I don't understand."

"No," the man said. "I'm sure you don't." He took a breath. "Perhaps you've noticed that our spells often don't work quite the way they're supposed to. The wolves turn on our people, or the eagles turn on each other, or the poison kills those it was supposed to help."

"What of it?" Jenoe asked, ice in his voice.

"Perhaps you also noticed that the land around our village was blighted," he went on, seeming to ignore the question. "Or that our people weren't as prosperous as other Mettai you encountered in your travels."