“He certainly is,” Florizel said. “And any man dismissed from his command by Thraxton the Braggart has to have more going for him than meets the eye.”

“Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that. You’ve got a point, your Excellency, no doubt about it,” Gremio said. That he meant. But it remained one of the all too few points in Leonidas’ favor, as far as he was concerned. The hierophant of the Lion God was a holy and pious man. As far as Gremio could see, though, neither holiness nor piety was an essential soldierly virtue. Of those virtues, Leonidas had displayed very few.

“Thraxton was a disaster for this army-a disaster, I tell you,” Florizel said. “I do hope Count Joseph will be able to pick up the pieces and shape us into a decent fighting force once more.”

“So do I,” Gremio said. “He’d better. If he doesn’t, this whole eastern land is lost to King Geoffrey, and I don’t see how he can hope to hold off King Avram without it.”

“Avram is a tyrant. The gods hate him,” Florizel growled. Gremio nodded; he certainly agreed with that, and knew hardly anyone from Palmetto Province who didn’t. His home province had been the first to renounce allegiance to Avram and fall in behind Geoffrey’s banner. After a ruminative pause, Colonel Florizel continued, “But, as you say, Captain, Geoffrey does need land of which to be the king. We shall have to do everything in our power to hold back General Hesmucet, then.”

“He’ll have more men than we do,” Gremio said gloomily. “The southrons always have more men than we do-except at the River of Death, and Count Thraxton frittered away what we won there.”

“They may have more men, but we have better mages,” Florizel said. “We have to have strong sorcery at our disposal, for we need it to keep the serfs subdued. The southrons are a land of shopkeepers and peddlers. What need have they for the true practice of magecraft?”