had heard of them。 Timewalkers； he called those with such a vision。 He named Diego blessed of Jad； but the boy's parents both knew that at different times and in different places； those visionaries had been burned； or nailed alive to wooden beams as sorcerers；
Miranda tried to concentrate on the mare； but her calming words； for the next little while； consisted of repeated； eloquent curses directed at her absent husband。 She had no idea what he'd done this time to bring danger to the ranch while his pany was quartered at Esteren and the best of the band were south in Al…Rassan。
The boys can deal with trouble； his last letter had said breezily； after reporting a grim parting exchange with Count Gonzalez de Rada。 Nothing about sending some of the soldiers to her for reinforcement。 Of course not。 Miranda； taught by Ibero in the first years of her marriage； prided herself on being able to read without assistance。 She could also swear like a soldier。 She had done so； reading that letter…to the messenger's disfiture。 She was doing so now； more carefully； not to disturb the mare。
Her boys were still boys； and their blithe； careless father and his men were far away。
By Jad's grace the foal was born healthy not long after that。 Miranda waited to see if the mare accepted him； then she left the stall； grabbed an old spear propped in a corner of the stable； and hurried out into the rain to join the women and their half a dozen ranch hands on the wall…walk behind the wooden barricade。
As it turned out； it was just the women； Ibero the cleric and lame old Rebeno the groom that she joined。 Fernan had already taken the ranch hands with him outside the walls。 For an ambush； one of the house women said； hesitantly。 Miranda； with no precious horses nearby； permitted herself a stream of entirely unmitigated profanity。 Then she swiped at her brow again and climbed the wet steps to the high walk along the western side of the wall； to watch and wait。 Someone offered her a hat to keep the rain from her eyes。
After a while she decided the spear was a waste of time； and exchanged it for a bow and a quiver full of arrows； taken from one of the six small guard shelters along the wall。 There were no guards in the shelters。 All the soldiers were in Esteren； or with Rodrigo。
The boys can handle； trouble； he had written。 Blithely。
She imagined seeing her husband riding home just then； emerging from the trees into the wide； grassy space before their walls。 She imagined shooting him as he rode up。
The land around the Belmonte ranch was level and open in all directions； save to the west and southwest where Rodrigo's father and his grandfather before him had left a stand of oak and cedar undisturbed。 Rodrigo hadn't touched the trees； either； though for a different reason。
There were holy associations with that wood； and with the pool in the midst of it； but young Fernan Belmonte had been taught by his father years ago； when he could first ride a proper horse； that the forest was deceptively useful for defense； as well。
〃Think about it；〃 he could remember his father saying。 〃If you wanted to attack this place unseen； which way would you approach？〃
Fernan had looked around at the exposed grassland stretching in all directions。 〃Have to e through the trees to get close；〃 he'd said。 It was an easy answer。
〃So we can be almost certain any attack will e that way； because otherwise； if our outriders aren't asleep； we'll be able to observe anyone's approach； won't we？〃
〃Or if Diego sees something；〃 Fernan had added； 〃even if they e through the woods。〃
〃That's true；〃 his father had agreed briefly； though not happily。
In those early days his father and mother were still struggling to e to terms with what Diego could see and do。 Fernan didn't have any such problems； but he knew Diego best of all； of course。
Years later； on a morning of soft； unseasonable summer rain he was with two of their friends and the six ranch hands in the twin gullies on either side of the natural exit from the woods。 The gullies weren't natural； of course。 Rodrigo's soldiers had hollowed them out in the grassy plain to make a place where they could lie unseen and watch anyone ing out of the trees。
Fernan had four other boys with bows posted halfway between the ranch buildings and the southern pastures where the mares and foals were that morning。 There were two messengers with these four； to bring word if anyone appeared from the south。 A last horseman was alone east of the ranch； just in case。
Diego； riding up breathlessly a few moments before； reported that he'd relayed instructions to their mother； who would be up on the wall； then； with the other women。 She knew what to do。 They were as ready as they could be。 Fernan turned up his collar against the rain and sat in the gully under the wide brim of his hat； waiting。
There were two possibilities。 If someone was approaching Rancho Belmonte with ill intent； they might be ing for the ranch pound and the people inside the walls or； more likely； they were here for the horses。 Or both； Fernan corrected himself。 But that would mean quite a lot of men； and in that case they might actually be in trouble。 He didn't think that was the case。 He wasn't much worried； in fact。 He was thirteen years old。
〃I have them；〃 he heard his brother say softly。 〃They just entered the trees。 I know who this is；〃 Diego said。
〃De Rada？〃 Fernan asked calmly。 〃The younger one？〃
Diego nodded。 They had both read their father's last letter。
Fernan swore。 〃That means we can't kill him。〃
〃Don't see why not；〃 said Diego matter…of…factly。
〃Bloodthirsty child。〃 Fernan grinned。
An identical grin on an identical face showed through the softly falling rain。 Fernan was fifteen minutes older。 He liked reminding Diego of that。 Diego was hard to tease； however。 Very little seemed to bother him。
〃About twenty men；〃 he said。 〃They're on the path in the woods now。〃
〃Of course they are；〃 said Fernan。 〃That's why the path is there。〃
He had lost his hat at some point； and during the period of walking north one of Garcia de Rada's boots had split at the heel。 He was； accordingly； wet at crown and sole； riding through the copse of trees west of the Belmonte ranch pound。 There seemed to be a rough trail leading through the wood； the horses were able to manage。
Despite his disfort； he was fiercely happy； with a red； penetrating joy that made the long journey here seem as nothing now。 His late； unlamented cousin Parazor had been a pig and a buffoon； and far too quick to voice his own thoughts on various matters。 Thoughts that seemed all too frequently to differ from Garcia's own。 Nonetheless； during the trek north from Al…Rassan； Garcia had been sustained in his spirit by a sense of gratitude to his slain cousin。 Parazor's death at the hands of a lice…ridden Asharite peasant boy in a hamlet by Fezana was the event that would deliver Miranda Belmonte d'Alveda into Garcia's hands。 And not only his hands。
Once Rodrigo Belmonte had recklessly ordered a de Rada of rank to be executed by a peasant child； against all codes of conduct among gentlemen in the three Jaddite kingdoms of Esperana； he had exposed himself…and his family…to the response that blood demanded for such an insult。
The king could and would do nothing； Garcia was certain； if the de Rada took their just measure of revenge for what Rodrigo had done。 The just measure was easy enough to calculate： horses for their own horses taken； and one woman taken in a rather different way for the execution of a de Rada cousin after he had sued for ransom。 It was entirely fair。 There were precedents in the history of Esperana for a great deal more； in fact。
Garcia had resolved upon his course even while walking and stumbling north through darkness after the raid on Orvilla。 Blood dripping from his torn cheek； he had kept himself going by visualizing the naked figure of Miranda Belmonte twisting beneath him； while her children were made to watch their mother's defilement。 Garcia was good at imagining such things。
Twenty…four of his men survived Orvilla； with a dozen knives and assorted