Sherwood Smith Quote

Khesot was looking not at the map but at us, his old eyes sad.I winced, knowing what he’d say if asked: that he had not been trained for his position any more than nature had suited Bran and me for war.But there was no other choice.So if Hrani takes her riding up here on Mount Elios, mayhap they can spy out Galdran’s numbers better, Branaric said slowly. Then we send out someone to lure ‘em to the Ghost Fall Ravine.I forced my attention back to the map. Even if the Marquis fails to see so obvious a trap, I said, finally, smoothing a wrinkle with my fingers, they’re necessarily all strung out going through that bottleneck. I don’t see how we can account for many of them before they figure out what we’re at, and retreat. I say we strike fast, in total surprise. We could set fire to their tents and steal all their mounts. That’d set ‘em back a little.Bran frowned. None of our attempts to scare ‘em off have worked, though--even with Debegri. He just sent for more reinforcements, and now there’s this new commander. Attacking their camp sounds more risky to us than to them.Khesot still said nothing, leaning over only to tap out and reload his pipe. I followed the direction of his gaze to my brother’s face. Had Branaric been born without title or parental plans, he probably would have found his way into a band of traveling players and there enjoyed a life’s contentment. Did one not know him by sight, there was no sign in his worn dress or in his manner that he was a count--and this was even more true for me. I looked at Khesot and wondered if he felt sad that though today was my Flower Day there would be no dancing--no music, or laughter, or family to celebrate the leaving of childhood behind. Among the aristocrats in the lowlands, Flower Day was celebrated with fine dresses and satin slippers and expensive gifts. Did he pity us?He couldn’t understand that I had no regrets for something I’d never known--and believed I never would know. But I controlled my impatience, and my tongue, because I knew from long experience that he was again seeing our mother in us--in our wide, dark-lashed eyes and auburn hair--and she had dearly loved pretty clothing, music, her rose garden.And Galdran had had her killed.What do you think? Bran addressed Khesot, who smiled ruefully.You’ll pardon an old man, my lord, my lady. I’m more tired than I thought. My mind wandered and I did not hear what you asked.Can you second-guess this Shevraeth? Branaric asked. He seems to be driving us back into our hills--to what purpose? Why hasn’t he taken over any of our villages? He knows where they lie--and he has the forces. If he does that, traps or no traps, arrows or no arrows, we’re lost. We won’t be able to retake them.Khesot puffed again, watching smoke curl lazily toward the tent roof.In my mind I saw, clearly, that straight-backed figure on the dapple-gray horse, his long black cloak slung back over the animal’s haunches, his plumed helm of command on his head. With either phenomenal courage or outright arrogance he had ignored the possibility of our arrows, the crowned sun stitched on his tunic gleaming in the noonday light as he directed the day’s battle.