My lord, Commander Insharah wishes to speak with you.” Maximilian paused with the razor halfway down his cheek, looking up at Doyle.
The man had a somewhat cynical smile on his face.
“Send him in, Doyle. Thank you.”
As soon as Doyle had turned away, Maximilian looked back to the mirror, staring at his reflection.
He was amazed Insharah had stayed as long as he had.
Insharah ducked inside the tent, and Maximilian resumed his careful shaving. “Yes?”
“My lord,” Insharah began, then stopped.
“Sit down, Insharah. There is no need to—”
“I would prefer to remain standing, my lord.”
Maximilian gave a slight shrug.
“I have been speaking with some of the men,” Insharah said. “There is trouble.”
“There is always trouble,” said Maximilian, putting the razor down and wiping his face clean of soap with a towel. “Define this particular trouble, if you please.”
Insharah took a deep breath. “Many of the men are going to desert tonight, my lord. Tens of thousands, but there may well be more.”
Maximilian quirked an eyebrow at him, but did not speak.
“They are so worried about their families,” said Insharah. “And about what is happening back in Isembaard. We—”
“I know, Insharah,” Maximilian said.
“My lord,” Insharah said, “many of the men, myself included, have been having nightmares. Dreams that are not true dreams, showing us our families in terrible plight—”
“They are dreams sent by a witch,” Maximilian said.
“They are reflections of our troubled consciences,” said Insharah.
“You want to join those leaving,” Maximilian said.
Insharah hesitated, then gave a terse nod. “I have a wife and children in Isembaard. At Aqhat.” Again he paused. “Not everyone wants to leave, my lord,” Insharah said. “Many will stay, and follow you to Elcho Falling.”
“Really? How many?”
“Perhaps ten thousand,” Insharah said, very quietly.
“Out of what? A quarter of a million?”
“I am sorry, my lord. I don’t know what I can say to—”
“You don’t need to make me feel better, Insharah.” Maximilian paused, thinking, the fingers of one hand tapping on the top of his shaving table. “Insharah, move among the army and tell the men that whoever wants to is free to leave to follow his conscience. They can take what stores they need—I ask only that you leave enough stores and spare horses for myself and my party, my Emerald Guard, and whoever decides to remain with me. I ask also that you respect the land and the peoples you move through once you do leave. The Outlanders have done you no wrong, and I would not have you wrong them.”
“You are just going to let us go?” said Insharah. “Just like that?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Maximilian’s forces abandon him,” Ravenna said. “What is he doing, to so let them go?”
She sat with Lister and Vorstus in the tent they used. It was small, but it had a good brazier, and they all sat about it, staring into its warmth.
“Ishbel is the canker,” Ravenna said.
Lister tipped his head as if agreeing, but he wasn’t ready to heap all the blame on Ishbel’s head. He thought Maximilian deserved to shoulder a fair weight of it, too.
What was the man doing to allow the majority of his army to defect? Did he not know that sooner or later an army of horror was going to seethe up from the south?
“What should we do?” Ravenna said.
“Watch,” said Lister, “and wait. Yes, yes, I know you want to act, but I would prefer to hear news of Isaiah and what awaits us from the south first.”
Ravenna looked between Vorstus and Lister. “How much faith do you have remaining in Maximilian?”
“Not a great deal,” Vorstus said. “We think that Ishbel may have been a vast error on our part.”
Then, as one, both Lister and Vorstus looked at Ravenna.