"I've fought them too long. No, the iron hand must remain, or my mercy will bring the family to ruin." Ilsabet had been thinking of her own small family and how Lady Lorena had joined it. "Father, you took Lorena as your second wife to forge a bond with an enemy. Couldn't you do something similar now by wedding some of our soldiers to the widows of the men they killed?"

"The child makes an intelligent suggestion," Jorani said. "There will be a shortage of men in the villages. You'll have to send some of the soldiers for harvest anyway, or we'll all starve next winter."

"If it's done properly… diplomatically… and when I have done something to warrant their affection once more." Baron Janosk's voice trailed off as he considered the possibilities. "Yes, I believe Ilsabet shows signs of your type of wisdom, Jorani," he said, looking at his daughter as he spoke.

"What do you suggest we do next?" Jorani asked.

"We let the troops rest a bit, then while they're jubilant in their victory, we march on Sundell."

Jorani considered this, then admitted, "We'd annex the richest lands between here and the Shaar. The course has its merits." Ilsabet could not understand the nuances of the adults' discussion. The strength of the drink, combined with the long day, soon made her sleepy, and she retired to her bed behind the screen painted with drag-ons and knights in armor, listening to Jorani and her father speak of the future in low, hopeful tones. She saw someone's arm brush against the wall of the tent. There were spies everywhere, her father often said. She was about to call out when she heard a soldier outside greet another. Whoever was there left, padding softly away. Ilsabet rolled over and tried to sleep.

THREE