King Gunthar took Ythaina's hand, and her heart beat in her breast like a sparrow's wings.
He held her hand companionably. "Why, in your opinion, do the landholders defect?"
"Because the Rhynnish say we're weak, we'll soon fall. That when they rule in Castle Greystone, the farmers will have equal coupling rights. But that's silly, of course. One King cannot serve so many--"
"Concubines?"
She looked away.
Gunthar sighed and toyed with the falcon's jesses. "And what would you do, given these promises?"
"I've laid out my recommendations. Our weaponry is adequate, but our supplies--"
"No, Ythaina. Not you, as General. What should I do?"
She hesitated, seeking the falcon's eyes rather than Gunthar's. "I don't know. I don't know."
"Think. The Rhynnish King died a year ago. The Rhynnish women desire nothing but a new King. They want me. Me. As long as I'm here, they'll fight. Either your women will kill them all, or they will kill us."
Ythaina finally looked truth in the eye.
Gunthar, with the quick, sure fingers of his unmaimed hand, undid the jesses. "I'm abdicating, Ythaina. Day after tomorrow, an hour before dawn, I'll ride out with Ravenel and twelve women. At noon, gather the women and tell them."
"No! Gunthar, your women love you. None of us will give up as long as you're here. And if you do leave--"
"Yes?"
"Women will kill themselves, all except those who prefer the embraces of other women."
"Ythaina, I chose you as General for your wisdom, not because of the muscles in your back. Give your women courage. Effect a good settlement with the Rhynnish."
Ythaina shivered, her heart like a fistful of clay from a grave. Gunthar faced her, gripping her shoulder with his good hand. "What other course is there, except universal death? I trust you. Do what I say. For your women."
Ythaina held his gaze. Despair congealed in her heart. She picked up a tailfeather that Faith had dropped in moult. "Yes, Majesty. Yes."
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