Secca glanced around the cramped tent, which was crowded even with the cots folded up and set outside, what with two sorceresses, three overcaptains, an heir, and two chief players. The air was also close and slightly rancid, but she ignored that as she laid out the mirror and checked the tuning on the lutar.
The first day of travel—two days after the battle north of Elahwa—had been short, less than five glasses, rather than the eight to ten that Secca’s lancers had averaged on their way from Synek to Elahwa. Part of that had been the late start, and part the cold wind and the intermittent flakes of snow blown out of the high gray clouds. And part had been the mixed nature of those following her. She had to wonder about the effectiveness of her force—with Melcar and the Ebrans, her own lancers under Wilten, Haddev and the company of Silberfels lancers, and now Alcaren and two companies of SouthWomen. Again, she missed Stepan’s quiet way of ensuring all worked together, although Melcar seemed to be following Stepan’s example.
Secca knew she was pressing her luck, but she certainly couldn’t leave ten or fifteen companies of Sturinnese lancers, possibly with a Sea-Priest and thunder-drums, behind her. Even if she dared, where would she go? Back to Loiseau and through the Sand Pass in winter—just to turn around or head somewhere else when Robero found she had returned? She refrained from shaking her head.
Instead, she looked at those around her, meeting each set of eyes in turn. “I’m going to try to see where the Sturinnese lancers are. All the scouts can tell us is that their tracks are headed to the northeast.”
Without more explanation, she began the spell.
“Mirror, mirror, on the ground…”
The silvered glass showed a campsite, much like the one outside the tent, except it was on a long flat rise overlooking the Eastern Ocean. Smoke rose from cookfires, and the darkness of the smoke indicated something was being cooked—most likely livestock taken from peasants and holders who would complain to either Hadrenn or Robero before all was done.
“They are on the coast road,” Melcar said. “Not on the river road.”
“Is the coast road a better road?” asked Secca.
“In winter, it is less likely to receive snow, and it is warmer,” Melcar said. “But once you are more than a day north of the river junction, it heads in almost the opposite direction from Dolov.”
Secca released the spell and tried a second one, one targeted at the lancers from Dolov. When the mists cleared, the glass showed the exact same image.
“They’ve joined up,” Wilten said. “They must have arranged this before.”
Secca frowned, then released the spell. She noted that Alcaren was also frowning. Palian looked at Secca intently, but said nothing.
“Let me try to see where the Sturinnese ships are.”
The third image showed a formation of vessels under full sail. Although it was difficult to tell, the ships displayed in the glass seemed to be sailing northward. Secca liked that even less. Were the Sturinnese going to land more lancers and thunder-drums to fight her? Using the weather of winter to their advantage?
The fourth scrying spell was for the harbor at Elahwa. From what the glass showed, there were no Sturinnese vessels beyond the harbor.
Secca released the spell and lowered the lutar. Her head was aching, and daystars had begun to flash before her eyes.
“You look worried, lady,” offered Richina.
“I should be happy for the FreeWomen, but I have to worry about what the Sea-Priests have in mind for those ships.”
“Perhaps they go to meet with the other Sturinnese forces,” suggested Haddev, a faint smile indicating satisfaction at determining the reason for such action.
The slightest hint of a furrow crossed Alcaren’s brow, but the Ranuan overcaptain said nothing.
“They may be, but I can’t do any more scrying right now. I’m not sure it would tell us anything more,” Secca said.
“Perhaps they will reclaim the lancers fleeing us and then sail to Dumar to reinforce their lancers there,” suggested Wilten.
“We’ll have to wait and see.” Secca blinked. “I just wanted you all to see what I did so that everyone saw the same thing.” That was important, she felt, with all the different overcaptains and forces. “Think about it, and we’ll talk later, after the evening meal.”
All those in the tent just stood there, shifting their weight from one booted foot to another, or not moving at all. Secca squinted, trying to read expressions that blurred with the daystars and holes in her vision.
“The Lady Secca needs a moment of rest,” Richina said politely but firmly.
As the small crowd filed out, Secca suspected she needed far more than rest.