Drawing him aside, she asked, "Does Lady Lorena have reason to be concerned?"

"In battle, there are always reasons, but now more than ever," he replied. "The troops are tired, many are wounded and cannot go with us. We should have a full force for this expedition. Your father, however, sees things differently. He thinks time would give the rebels a chance to regroup, and give Sundell a chance to learn of our plans."

"Is he right?" Ilsabet asked.

"I see the wisdom of his decision. A surprise attack should be successful." He pointed to the bags in the wagon and added, "I've done what I could. If things go as we hope, we'll win easily."

Soldiers were preparing their mounts. Servants filled the courtyard, bringing out fresh bread and dried meat.

"Someone so small could get trampled here," Jorani told her. "Go up to my chamber and pray for us."

An hour later, she stood in Jorani's tower room and watched the troops assemble and ride, their blue-and-gold banners waving in the morning breeze. She stood at the window, looking west until even the dust raised by the horses was no longer visible. Though news of the victory would not come for two days, she vowed to remain in the tower, watching and praying until her father returned.

But no potion of Jorani's could compensate for the trap Baron Peto's soldiers had laid. Even nature seemed to oppose the invasion. The wind had blown steadily from the west, making any use of Jorani's gasses and poison dust impossible. Of the thousand soldiers who had ridden west so confidently, less than two hundred returned. Many were wounded. All were exhausted, no match for the Sundell troops following closely on their heels.

Ilsabet reached the courtyard just as Jorani came riding in, her father strapped in front of him on Jorani's black stallion. "Close the gates," the baron whispered, and Jorani repeated the order loud enough for all to hear.