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He put his fingers to his lips and gave a piercing whistle.

Up ahead, at the tip of the right flank, Rafe acknowledged the signal and began to move across, cutting the prisoners off and leading enough soldiers to form a barrier, so their Jatan captives were completely surrounded.

“What now?” Revek asked as he came up beside Luc and Massi.

“I think it’s best Massi and I go forward and talk. You and Rafe will have to keep watch for anyone who might decide it would be a good idea to try to make a break for the border and their friends on the other side.”

Revek smiled, and it wasn’t friendly.

“Don’t kill unnecessarily,” Luc warned, and Rev gave a grunt in response.

It would have to do.

Luc moved his mount to the side and Massi joined him, skirting the Rising Wave left flank and coming round the front of the square they’d created with the prisoners inside.

Luc glanced at Rafe and he gave a nod of understanding.

There were enough seasoned warriors making up the front line that Luc felt confident his people had control.

He and Massi approached the Gathering representatives, ignoring Tuart, even though the general tried to signal him.

If Tuart wanted him alone, then he wanted the opposite.

“The Turncoat King?” One of the old men in front of him, in a gray robe, asked.

“Commander of the Rising Wave, Luc Franck,” Luc responded. He no longer had time for the title the Kassians had given him. They were defeated and their moniker could be buried with them. “And you are?”

The man acknowledged the edge to Luc’s question with a nod. “Didier, of the Restina.”

The other five introduced themselves, each giving a personal name and a Jatan tribe name.

“This is Massi, one of my lieutenants.”

They greeted her respectfully.

“Will you not dismount, so we can talk more easily?” One of the councillors, a woman who’d introduced herself as Fallicia of the Ectare, asked.

“My experience so far with the Jatan is that you cannot be trusted at your word, so no.” Luc tipped his head toward Tuart, who had edged forward as close as he could on his horse. “I don’t think a single word General Tuart spoke to me turned out to be true.”

The six councillors turned to looked at Tuart, and the general became stoney-faced.

“That is a grave insult.”

“No, it is simply the truth,” Massi said, keeping her voice even. “You said if there were Jatan soldiers raiding Cervantes, it was out-of-control officers, too young to know better. And what did we find? Two senior generals, hiding in secret camps and running raids so deep into Cervantes territory as to get within a two hour ride of our capital.”

Tuart blinked. “I may have been misinformed. I didn’t know that information was wrong when I gave it.”

Luc studied him, letting the silence drag on until Tuart found it difficult to keep still.

“I was eavesdropping on your conversation with General Carvill in the secret camp. That time that Carvill was trying to torture information out of one of my scouts.” Luc twisted his lips in a wry smile. “Would you like to amend your assertion that you thought you were telling the truth when you said the raids were unsanctioned. Because that’s not what you said that night.”

Tuart’s eyes widened. “You were there? How?”

“There was a reason the Kassians wanted us as their soldiers,” Luc said. “You might consider that, and how it ended for them, next time you think to attack us.” He looked back at the Rising Wave behind him. “And how it ended for Hurst and Carvill.”

“Will you let our people go?” The man who spoke had been hovering just behind Tuart. Luc had noticed him from the start, flanked by a man with similar bearing to Tuart. He wore a heavy ring on his finger and a thick chain around his neck.

If Luc were to guess, this was the commander of the Jatan forces, the general who oversaw the troops sent in by all the tribes.