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mashing his skull with a blow； spilling brains and blood on the cobblestones。
That could shake a man； Alvar thought。 Not all were made for a soldier's life and what came with it。
Truth to tell…though he told no one this…Alvar wasn't certain any more if he was made for that life； either。 That was frightening。 If he wasn't this； what was he？ But it appeared that a soldier needed to be able to see things in extremely simple terms and Alvar had e to realize that he wasn't especially good at that。
On the fourth morning he had broached this much； diffidently； with the Captain。 Rodrigo had ridden in silence a long time before answering。 Birds had been singing； the spring day was bright。
〃You may be too intelligent to be a good soldier；〃 Rodrigo had said； finally。
Which wasn't really what Alvar wanted to hear。 It sounded like a rejection。 〃What about you？〃 he demanded。 〃You have been； all your life。〃
Rodrigo hesitated again； choosing his words。 〃I grew up in a different age； Alvar； though it was only a little before yours。 When the khalifs ruled in Al…Rassan we lived in fear of our lives in the north。 We were raided once； sometimes twice； a year。 Every year。 Even after the raids began to stop； we children were frightened into bed at night with warnings about the infidels ing to take us away if we were bad。 We dreamed of miracles； reversals。 Of ing back。〃
〃So did I！〃
〃But now you can； don't you see？ It isn't a dream any more。 The world has changed。 When you can do what you dreamed about； sometimes it isn't 。。。 as simple any more。〃 Rodrigo looked at Alvar。 〃I don't know if that makes any sense at all。〃
〃I don't either；〃 Alvar said glumly。
The Captain's mouth quirked at that； and Alvar realized he hadn't been very respectful。
〃Sorry；〃 he said quickly。 He remembered…it seemed an unbelievably long time ago…the day Rodrigo had knocked him from his horse just outside Esteren for such impertinence。
Rodrigo only shook his head now。 The world had changed。 〃Try this； if it helps；〃 he said。 〃How easy do you find it to think of the three people we're riding with as infidels； vile in their ways and loathsome to the god？〃
Alvar blinked。 〃But we always knew there was honor in Al…Rassan。〃
Rodrigo shook his head。 〃No。 Be honest。 Think about this。 Some of us did； Alvar。 The clerics deny it to this day。 I have a feeling your mother would。 Think of Vasca's Isle。 The very idea of holy war denies it： Asharites and Kindath are an attack upon Jad。 Their existence wounds our god。 That's what we've all been taught for centuries。 No room for acknowledging honor； let alone grandeur in an enemy。 Not in a war driven by such beliefs。 That's what I'm trying…badly…to say。 It's one thing to make war for your country； your family； even in pursuit of glory。 It's another to believe that the people you fight are embodiments of evil and must be destroyed for that。 I want this peninsula back。 I want Esperana great again； but I will not pretend that if we smash Al…Rassan and all it has built we are doing the will of any god I know。〃
It was so difficult。 Amazingly difficult。 Alvar rode without speaking for a long while。 〃Do you think King Ramiro feels that way？〃
〃I have no idea how King Ramiro feels。〃
The answer came too quickly。 The wrong question to have asked； Alvar realized。 It ended the conversation。 And none of the others seemed inclined to talk。
He kept thinking about it； however。 He had time to think as they passed west through springtime。 Nothing emerged clearly。
What had happened to the sunlit world one dreamed of as a child： when all one wanted was a part in the glory of which Rodrigo had spoken…an honorable role in the battling of lions and a share of pride。
The battling of lions。 A child's dreaming。 How did that fit in with what Valledan men had done in Orvilla last summer？ Or with Velaz ben Ishak…as good a man as Alvar had ever known…dead on the stones of Ragosa？ Or； indeed； with what they them' selves had done to a Jalonan party in a valley northwest of Fibaz？ Was there glory there？ Was there any way to say there was？
He still wore his cool； loose garb of Al…Rassan。 Husari had not removed his leather Valledan hat or vest or leggings。 Alvar wasn't sure why； but that meant something to him。 Perhaps in the absence of real answers men needed their emblems more？
Or perhaps he did spend too much time on thoughts such as these ever to be a proper soldier。 It was a little reassuring to see the Captain struggling as well。 But that didn't resolve anything。
On a hilltop east of Fezana in Al…Rassan； watching a dust cloud stirred up by the horses of his countrymen； in the moments before the five of them rode down towards the city； Alvar de Pellino decided that glory…the fierce； bright purity of it…was hopelessly hard to e by； in fact。
And then； that same evening； he found it after all and a signing of his future as if branded in the burning sky。
Ammar took control when they approached the Gate of the Moat。 Jehane had seen it before； on the campaign near Fibaz； how he and Rodrigo seemed to have an effortless interchange of authority as situations altered。 This was； she had e to realize； one of the sorrows she was carrying： whatever bond had evolved； whatever unspoken awareness they shared across two worlds…it was going to be severed now。
A Jaddite army in Al…Rassan made certain of that。 The two of them were aware of it。 Nothing had been said on the hill； watching the dust； but it was known。 They were here to take her parents away from danger； and after that 。。。 ？ After that； whatever it was that had begun that autumn day in Ragosa in a symbolic battle beneath the ramparts would e to an end。
She wanted to talk with Ammar。 She needed to talk with him； about this； and so many other things。 About love； and whether something could truly begin in a time of deaths； with endings all around in the world they had known。
Not on this ride； though。 They had spoken with glances and the briefest exchanges。 Whatever was to be resolved； whatever diminished or expanded possibilities the future might enpass in the mingled signs of their stars and moons； would have to be considered afterwards。 If time and the world allowed。
She had no doubts of him。 It was astonishing in a way； but she'd had none at all from those first moments in the street at Carnival。 Sometimes the heart's arrow found its way to certainty despite the cautionings of a careful nature。
He was what he was and she knew something about that。 He had done what he had done； and the stories ran the length of the peninsula。
And he had said he loved her and she believed him； and there was no need for fear。 Not of him。 Of the world； perhaps； of darkness； blood； fire； but not of this man who was； it seemed； amazingly； the destination of her soul。
They entered Fezana in the midst of a milling； terrified mass of people from the countryside fleeing the advance of the Jaddite army。 Wagons and pushcarts clogged the road into the city and the bridge before the wall； blocking the gates。 They were enmeshed among crying children； barking dogs； mules； chickens； shouting men and women； Jehan