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Lajos came up the trench. "Assembly!" the youngster called. "Captain Frigyes wants to talk to the whole company."

"Where?" Istvan asked. "When?"

"Right now," Lajos answered. "Back there, not far from the messfires." He pointed in the direction from which he'd come. At the moment, the rain had put out the fires.

Istvan nodded to the other two veterans who'd been through so much with him. "You heard the man," he said as Lajos went on to pass the word to more men in the company. "Let's find out what the captain's got to say." He slogged down the trench once more. Kun and Szonyi followed.

Captain Frigyes stood waiting while the soldiers gathered. He wore a rain cape. Instead of using the hood or a cap like Szonyi's, he had on a broad-brimmed felt hat in the Algarvian style. Even though the feather in the hat-band was sadly draggled, the headgear, cocked at a jaunty angle, gave him a dashing air he couldn't have got without it.

He returned Istvan's salute, and then those of his companions. "What's up, sir?" Istvan asked.

"I'll tell it all once," Captain Frigyes answered. "That way, I won't have to go over pieces of it three or four different times. You'll hear soon enough, Sergeant- I promise you that." Istvan nodded. What the company commander said made good sense. Even if it hadn't, of course, he couldn't have done anything about it.

A lieutenant, another sergeant, two corporals, and even a cheeky common soldier asked Frigyes more or less the same question as they came up. He gave them the same answer, or lack of answer. Istvan felt better to find out he wasn't the only nosy one in the company.

When just about everyone had gathered in front of Frigyes, he nodded to his soldiers and said, "Men, it's time to stop beating around the bush. Nobody talks about it much, but we all know the war isn't going as well for Gyongyos as it ought to be. We've got two foes, and we can't hit either one so hard as we'd like." Istvan preened in front of Szonyi and Kun. He'd said the same thing. Maybe he really did deserve a job in the foreign ministry.

Frigyes went on, "Most of you fought in the forests of Unkerlant. Some of you remember how, summer before last, we were on the edge of breaking out of the forest and into the open country beyond, and the magic the Unkerlanters made to help halt us."

Not likely I'd ever forget that, Istvan thought. The other longtimers in the company were nodding. Kun had a look of something close to horror on his face. Having at least a small fragment of a mage's talent, he'd not only felt the spell, he'd understood how the Unkerlanters had done what they'd done.

For those who didn't, Frigyes spelled it out: "King Swemmel's mages slay their own folk- the ones they reckon useless- to fuel that magecraft. The Algarvians use the same spell, but power it with the life energy of those they've conquered. Neither of those is, or could ever be, the proper Gyongyosian path."

"Stars be praised!" Kun murmured beside Istvan.