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still an idiot,” said Sigaldra.
    “He’ll learn,” said Adalar. “If he survives.” 
    Sigaldra said nothing, watching as Rufus led his men within the ring of pavilions. Adalar seemed as calm as ever, ready to either fight or talk as necessary. It was a rare quality in so young of a man. Or any man, really.
    “Thank you,” she said at last. “That…might have gone worse.” 
    Adalar shrugged. “A gentle answer turns away wrath, or so the priests said when I was a boy.” 
    Sigaldra snorted. “I’ve found a sharp sword and a strong arm are more useful than a gentle answer.” 
    “Well.” Adalar gazed at the camp for a moment. “I suppose the sharp sword and the strong arm make the gentle answer more compelling.” He looked at Talchar and Wesson and Vorgaric and the others. “We had best get back to camp. We don’t want to keep the valgasts waiting.”
    “Well spoken,” said Vorgaric.
    The others headed towards the camp. Sigaldra hesitated for a moment, and then touched Adalar’s arm.
    He blinked in surprise and turned to look at her. Part of her mind noted that the arm felt hard and heavy with muscle. She didn’t know what to make of that, so she put the thought aside.
    “Thank you again,” she said in quiet voice. “I…did not want to say anything in front of the others. But I did not handle that well.”
    Adalar shrugged. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.” 
    “Yes. But I am the last holdmistress of the Jutai people. I cannot make mistakes or let my anger get the better of me,” said Sigaldra. “Thank you for…keeping me in check.”
    “No thanks are required. I said I would help rescue your sister, and I shall,” said Adalar. Very gently he reached up and lifted her hand off his arm, his fingers callused from sword work. “We should go back to the camp.”
    “Of course,” said Sigaldra, and she walked side-by-side with Adalar to the camp.
    He was a useful man to have around. She suspected her father Theodoric and her brothers would have approved of him.
     
    ###
     
    Adalar waited, his greatsword in hand, dozens of armsmen and militiamen standing near him. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains of Skuldar to the west, and utter darkness had fallen, save for the blaze of the stars overhead. The darkness was enhanced further when Adalar ordered every campfire put out, plunging the area within the ring of pavilions into blackness. 
    Save for the pavilions themselves, of course. 
    They glowed in the night like giant lanterns. When Adalar had commanded the campfires to be quenched, he had also sent men to light the braziers inside the pavilions. Jutai bondsmen had hastened from pavilion to pavilion, lighting the braziers. Then they had withdrawn through the maze of ropes holding up the pavilions to join the men huddled in the center of camp.
    Now they waited. 
    Adalar suspected they would not wait for very long.
    Sigaldra and Talchar One-Eye stood next to him, silent in the gloom. 
    He was a little surprised at that. Sigaldra had been fierce about maintaining her independence and asserting her authority. Adalar could understand that. The Jutai were a tiny minority within the Grim Marches. The Marcher folk were indifferent to the Jutai, and in truth, often confused them with the Tervingi, but the bulk of the Tervingi detested the Jutai. Not a few of the Tervingi thains and headmen, Adalar suspected, would have cheered if Earnachar had wiped out the Jutai. Mazael’s utter refusal to allow warfare among his vassals was the only defense of the Jutai, which Earnachar had found out the hard way. 
    Yet Sigaldra refused to yield.
    She was surrounded by enemies, and the Prophetess had taken her sister. Yet the woman absolutely refused to give up. She was as implacable as a glacier. If the Prophetess and Rigoric had taken Liane to the other side of the world, Sigaldra would have followed, whatever the cost, whatever the danger, whatever the risk. Adalar thought he understood, perhaps