Bell knew perfectly well how much he needed such a man. He said, “With your help and the help of the gods, Lieutenant General, I look forward to doing just that.”

“Good,” Ned said. “A pleasure to have a man I can work with in charge of the Army of Franklin.”

“Yes.” Bell nodded. “I was wounded, I think, when you had your… disagreement with Thraxton the Braggart.”

“Disagreement, hells. I was going to kill the son of a bitch,” Ned said matter-of-factly. “He had it coming, too. But did you ever run across a miserable cur dog not worth wasting a crossbow bolt on? By the Thunderer’s beard, that’s Thraxton. So I let him live, and I daresay the kingdom’s been regretting it ever since.”

“Er-yes,” Bell said. Count Thraxton’s patronage, along with that of King Geoffrey, had got him the command of this army when Geoffrey sacked Joseph the Gamecock outside of Marthasville. Joseph hadn’t fought the oncoming southrons; he’d stalled for time instead, hoping to make King Avram and his folk weary of the war. Bell had fought-and Marthasville had fallen. Bell remained convinced that wasn’t his fault. Coughing a couple of times, he added, “You are… very frank.”

“What’s the point of talking if you don’t say what you mean?” Ned returned. He leaned forward. “Now, then-what do you mean to do about the southrons down in Franklin?”

“General Hesmucet has marched west-he’s off the map,” Bell said, and Ned of the Forest nodded to show he followed. Bell went on, “Not only has he marched west, he’s taken all his best soldiers with him. That leaves nothing but odds and sods to hold Franklin and Cloviston. All we’ve got to do is win once, maybe twice, and we can get all the way to the Highlow River. What could stop us?”