Aimeric didn’t answer.
‘The pace will stay steady for the next few weeks, and we’ve a month till we reach the border. You don’t have to exhaust yourself on the first day.’
He said it in a kindly enough tone, but Aimeric answered stiffly: ‘I can keep up.’
Damen sighed and rose, and was two steps on his way to Laurent’s tent when Aimeric’s voice called him back.
‘Wait,’ said Aimeric. ‘You really think Jord has seen it?’ And then he flushed as though he had given something away.
* * *
Pushing open the tent flap, Damen was confronted by a cool blue gaze that, by contrast, gave away nothing at all. Jord was already inside, and Laurent gestured for Damen to join them.
‘The post mortem,’ Laurent said.
The day’s events were dissected. Damen was asked for and gave his honest opinion: the men were not beyond hope. They were not going to become a perfectly trained company in a month. But they could be taught some things. They could be taught how to hold a line and how to resist an ambush. They could be taught basic manoeuvres. Damen outlined what he thought was realistic. Jord agreed, and added a few suggestions.
Two months, said Jord frankly, would be a hell of a lot more useful than one.
Laurent said, ‘Unfortunately, my uncle has tasked us with duty on t
he border, and as much as I would prefer it otherwise, we do have to arrive eventually.’
Jord snorted. They discussed a few of the men, and tweaked the drills. Jord had a knack for identifying the root of camp problems. He seemed to take it as a matter of course that Damen was part of the discussion.
When they were done, Laurent dismissed Jord and sat in the brazier warmth of the tent gazing leisurely at Damen.
Damen said, ‘I should check over the armour before I turn in, unless you need me for something.’
‘Bring it in,’ said Laurent.
He did. He sat down on the seat and looked over the buckles and straps and systematically checked every part, a habit that had been ingrained in him since childhood.
Laurent said, ‘What do you think of Jord?’
‘I like him,’ said Damen. ‘You should be pleased with him. He was the right choice for Captain.’
There was an unhurried pause. Aside from the sounds Damen made when he picked up a vambrace, the tent was quiet.
‘No,’ said Laurent. ‘You were.’
‘What?’ said Damen. He gave Laurent a startled look and was even more surprised to find that Laurent was gazing back at him steadily. ‘There isn’t a man here who’d accept orders from an Akielon.’
‘I know that. It’s one of two reasons I chose Jord. The men would have resisted you at first, you’d have had to prove yourself. Even with the extra fortnight, there wasn’t enough time to play all of that out. It frustrates me that I cannot put you to best use.’
Damen, who had never considered himself as a contender for the captaincy, was a little chagrined at his own hubris to realise that it was because he instinctively saw himself occupying Laurent’s role, or none. The idea that he might be promoted up through the ranks like a common soldier had simply not occurred to him.
‘That’s the last thing I expected you to say,’ he admitted, a little wryly.
‘Did you think I was too proud to see it? I can assure you, the pride I have invested in beating my uncle far outweighs the feelings I hold on any other account.’
‘You just surprised me,’ said Damen. ‘Sometimes I think I understand you, and at other times I can’t make you out at all.’
‘Believe me, that sentiment is mutual.’
‘You said two reasons,’ said Damen. ‘What was the other?’
‘The men think you bend me over inside the tent,’ said Laurent. He said it in the same calm way he said everything. Damen fumbled the vambrace. ‘It would erode my authority. My carefully cultivated authority. Now I have really surprised you. Perhaps if you were not a foot taller, or quite so broad across the shoulders.’