Arcolin could not ignore that, not with the feeling that hundreds of beady black eyes were watching him from behind every rock on the slope. He glared at the man until the captain wilted a little. “I am telling you, as the Constable of this kingdom, Duke of the North Marches, member of the Royal Council, and the king’s representative in this place, that this is no way to speak of our allies. Since Gird’s day, Gnarrinfulk has honored Gird’s contract. No human has come to harm from them; they have never taken so much as a rabbit from the other side of their boundary. Moreover, they have shown mercy to those who broke it without intent, such as shepherds whose sheep strayed. Yet you speak of them as if they were fools. These are the gnomes who taught Gird warfare and the reason you and I are both Girdish. Show respect for Elders.”
The captain reddened and looked down. “Sorry, my lord,” he said.
“Remember it,” Arcolin said. “We are honored and very fortunate to have gnomes offer to help our king and the Marshal-General. Now, you asked what condition made it possible, in Law, for the prince to regard the situation differently. It was children: the children the mage-hunters have killed and tried to kill. Under Law, attacking innocents for what they are, rather than what they have done, is against Law.”
“They changed their minds for children?” At least that was in a low voice.
“Wouldn’t you?” Arcolin said. Without waiting an answer, he signaled Cracolnya, and the cohort started forward.
“That was an impressive list of titles,” Cracolnya said, keeping his voice low. “But I notice you did not say ‘Commander of Fox Company.’”
“I didn’t think it would have the right effect,” Arcolin said. “Besides, here and now Fox Company outnumbers his. He got the point.”
“Just want to be sure you still consider us important,” Cracolnya said.
Arcolin turned to look at him. “Important? Of course the Company’s important. None of the rest would exist without the Company.”
“Good. I’m too old to be finding another place if you had changed your mind.”
The closer they came to the Finthan border, the more signs of struggle appeared on the road. Carrion eaters lifting from the ground revealed bodies … first one, then another, then three together. The road itself was empty; with word of unrest, many traders had chosen not to go to Fintha this year.
At the border itself, they saw no one at first.
“Do we go on?” Cracolnya asked.
“I’m not sure—” Arcolin looked around, hoping to spot a gnome. Instead, he saw a group of people north of the road, already on the Tsaian side of the border. Perhaps three or four hands of them, adults and children both, hurried along the brushy side of what might be a creek. That low ground led toward the road; his troop had crossed a dry wash only a short time ago. Farther away, still in Fintha, he saw another, larger group, on horseback, riders on either side of the brush cover as it broadened farther down the slope. They moved steadily up the slope a little faster than the fugitives as they searched clumps of brush. “There’s trouble,” he said. “Mage-hunters after those—” He pointed to each group in turn.
“What do we do?” the Royal Guard captain said.
“Save the children,” Arcolin said. “And their parents, of course.”
Cracolnya needed no direction; he led the cohort off the road and down the slope, aiming to cut between the pursued and their pursuers. The pursuers, instead of turning back at the sight of a military unit marching toward them, kicked their horses into a gallop and yelled something Arcolin could not distinguish. The pursued stopped short, staring, then tried to run straight up the slope to the road.
“Captain—charge them!” Arcolin looked at the Royal Guard captain and pointed his sword at the pursuers.
“But they’re still in Fintha!”
“Not in another twenty strides,” Arcolin said. “Go! Now!”
“I can’t cross the border without the king—”
“Shall I tell the king you disobeyed me? GO!” He smacked the captain’s horse on the rump with the flat of his sword; it bolted after Cracolnya and the cohort, and the troop followed. Arcolin put spurs to his own mount and caught up.
The pursuing party split, trying to swing wide around both the cohort and the cavalry troop. Arcolin grinned. Cracolnya would be happy about that … The crossbowmen of the mixed cohort turned smoothly and shot into the flanks of the pursuers, dropping almost half of them.
The rest, seeing this, peeled off and galloped away full speed as another flight of bolts took three of the hindmost. Arcolin pulled up. The Royal Guard captain wrestled his horse to a stop and turned back to Arcolin, yanking his sword out of its scabbard.