At the Queen_s command

"That was his call." Nathaniel shrugged. "You serious 'bout me skinning that hill?"

"I am if you expect to be a captain of one of the companies."

Nathaniel folded his arms over his chest. "I don't think you'll be wanting me in command of no one."

"Command? Perhaps not. Leading, on the other hand, without question." Forest pointed toward where Caleb and another of the college boys were beginning their ascent. "Many of these men have fired shots in anger, but not all. Like it or not, you're a legend. They all know three things about you. First, you've been where we're going. Second, you embarrassed Lord Rivendell, which means, to most of them, you've redeemed Mystria. Third, you are Magehawk."

"You know better than most just how much that Magehawk talk is hooey."

Forest shook his head. "Better than most, I know how much isn't. You were younger than any of them here when you went off, and you're not the oldest here now. Lots of men have bragged about shooting jeopards, but you're the only one who has the Governor-General bragging for him."

"I ain't special. I just done what needed doing."

"And that's what you'll do here." Forest smiled. "Your quiet confidence, Nathaniel, will calm a lot of nerves before we go up that cliff. Any boy thinks of quitting won't for fear of disappointing you."

Nathaniel shook his head. "I ain't thinking I want that responsibility. I just want to get me a clean shot at du Malphias."

Forest stroked his chin. "Let me put this a different way, Nathaniel. Either you come as a Captain of the Northland Rangers, or you'll not be going at all."

"Now, I don't reckon…"

"No, you don't reckon at all if you interrupt me. The situation is simple. If I can't have you in a leadership position, I can't have you in the ranks. You will chafe under someone else's command. Men will follow you because you're a natural leader. That creates division. And if men refuse to follow orders-and we will have scant time to train them at anything-they will die. And while you and Kamiskwa have been to Anvil Lake, you're not the only men who know how to get there.

"If you are not under my command, you will still be a divisive force. You just want a shot at du Malphias. I understand this, but none of us can hazard you taking that shot regardless of our plans. If you're not with us, you won't be allowed on the expedition. Is this clear?"

Nathaniel's nostrils flared. "You're beginning to sound powerful close to that idiot come to lead us."

"No. He sounds the way he does because he supposes that is how he should sound. He has no real clue as to why he should insist on discipline. That others oppose him is an affront to his honor, and that is all he cares about, his honor and his glory." Forest tapped a finger against his own chest. "If I ever had such dreams, I was clutching them in the hand I left in the Artennes Forest. I'm commanding and demanding because that is what will keep men alive. You've seen the fortress. It will be a meat-grinder. As much as I admire you and want you with me, if it is not on my terms, you will do more harm than good."

"Some thinking needs doing." Nathaniel turned away and paced off, heading toward a barrel of water that had been filled from Sutler's Creek. Another man offered him a dipper, but Nathaniel waved it away, then plunged his head into the barrel. The cold water shocked him, then he came up and shook his head, spraying water all over.

Major Forest was right, of course. Nathaniel knew he didn't fit well within society's sense of order. That was why he spent so much time outside of it. Society looked askance at his carrying-on with Rachel-even though they knew that she was rightfully his. The hypocrites turned his stomach, and the less he had to do with them, the more he liked it.

Jumped-up idiots play-acting at soldiery, like Langford and Rivendell, were worse. Scolds might whisper about him, but those fools would get men killed. Nathaniel had already heard from various sources that Rivendell doubted most all of what they'd reported about du Malphias. He'd attributed their claims to "a certain Colonial propensity for hysteria when the subject of war with Tharyngia is at hand." Rivendell had cheated and stolen. Given three bullets and a choice of targets between Rivendell and du Malphias, Nathaniel would just as soon shoot Rivendell twice.

Major Forest was pretty much the only officer he'd met that he thought deserving of rank. Nathaniel checked himself. Owen Strake merited that honor, too. Both men thought a lot about how to win, not what they'd do after they won. Owen had his scars; Forest, too, obviously. If he had to guess, Nathaniel figured Rivendell's body would have fewer blemishes than a newborn baby's behind.

As much as he hated the thought of taking orders from someone else, his problem with Forest's offer went deeper. He could take orders from Forest. He had before-though he had been much younger-and respected the man enough to assume any service he asked was a service needed doing.