Midwinter

"And now you're not sure," said Mauritane. He kept his eyes forward.

"Yes… I mean, I trust you yet, Captain, and I know you would never lead me astray." Honeywell's wide brow was furrowed in confusion.

"But you're having doubts about the trustworthiness of the Crown."

"I… yes, I suppose I am. What should I do?"

Mauritane thought for a moment. "Honeywell, do you remember Commander Baede'ed from Selafae?"

"Yes, he was the Guard detachment commander there."

Mauritane nodded. "He was my first commanding officer. He used to do a training exercise at the barracks. He would have a recruit scale the climbing wall, then he would stand beneath them with his arms outstretched and shout, `Jump down, and I'll catch you.' The first one would jump, and he'd step out of the way at the last second. He'd laugh and say, `That is to teach you never to take things at face value." He'd order the next recruit up the wall, while the first was carried away, and give the same order. Invariably, the second recruit would jump, and Baede'ed would step away at the last moment. `That is to teach you that continuing unsuccessful tactics is the surest path to defeat,' he'd say."

Honeywell chuckled at the notion.

"The third soldier up the wall was always carefully chosen by Baede'ed as the most loyal man in the company. When he jumped, Baede'ed would catch him and give him a day's leave. I watched him do it at least ten times. It always made an impression.

Honeywell scowled. "What was the lesson of the third recruit?"

"That loyalty and trust are two different things."

Honeywell pondered for a long moment. "So you're saying that I should be loyal to the Crown, regardless of my personal feelings?"

Mauritane shook his head. "No, I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that loyalty and trust are two different things."

They rode a little farther, Honeywell looking out over the trees.

"But if none of us trusts the Crown entirely, why are we even here?"

Mauritane smiled again, and this smile had an edge to it. "Perhaps because we are soldiers, and loyalty is all we know."

Honeywell opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Eventually he drifted back to join the others, who'd remained silent through the entire exchange.

As they neared the river, Mauritane suddenly brought the company to a stop, holding up his hand for silence. "Do you hear that?" he whispered to Silverdun.

Silverdun focused on his hearing and nodded slowly. "There are riders coming. More than a few, from what I can tell."

"From which direction?" said Honeywell drawing his sword.

"Over there." Silverdun pointed at a low rise to the south, downriver, where a narrow trail ran parallel to the water's edge. The rise was high enough that whatever lay beyond it was completely hidden from view.

"Who'd be riding out here during Midwinter?" asked Gray Mave, drawing his own weapon.

Mauritane set his jaw. "I can think of two possibilities. Either a band of highwaymen or a Guard detachment searching for escaped prisoners."

Silverdun listened harder. "They're riding in step," he said, frowning.

"Then it's a detachment."

"Could they really be looking for us?" said Mave.

"It's safe to assume so," said Mauritane. "There's no other reason for them to be patrolling this far from the city."

A line of riders appeared over the rise, at least twenty in number, some in the blue-spangled colors of the Hawthorne Guard, some in the red of Colthorn. Their leader was an officer of the Colthorn Guard, wearing the long mustache popular with men in that city.

"Wonderful," said Silverdun.

The riders stopped upon seeing them. Their leader raised his hand and waved it twice overhead.

Honeywell gawked. "He wants to parlay? Why? They outnumber us four to one!"

"You know these country folk," said Silverdun, examining his blade. "They hate dying. Avoid it at all costs."

Mauritane cut him off with a glance. "I'll ride out to parlay with them. The rest of you wait for my signal and make for the river when I give it."

"But sir!" said Honeywell.

"Honeywell," warned Mauritane.

"Yes sir," said Honeywell.

"You know what to do," said Mauritane. "I'll…"

He stopped short. Without speaking, Honeywell had ridden ahead without him.

"Lieutenant!" Mauritane barked.

Honeywell turned to face him. "Don't follow me, Mauritane. It will make us look weak." The riders on the hilltop, outside of hearing range, watched their leader intently.

"What are you doing?" Mauritane's face was red.

"We both know that capture is not an option, and we both know that whoever rides up there isn't riding down again. If you're to make it across the river under pursuit, you'll need that touched horse. And if you're to make the City Emerald," he said, "you're going to need a captain. I've decided that if I'm going to jump from a wall, I'm doing it on my own terms for once." With that, he turned again and rode to meet the Colthornan.

Mauritane's knuckles whitened from his grip on Streak's reins.

"What are we going to do?" said Mave, his voice shaking.