““Is there a unit to keep track of all the other units?” she asked the leader of her guards, the hazel-eyed woman, whose name was Musa. Musa laughed. Most of Fire’s questions seemed to make Musa laugh. “The commander doesn’t use one, Lady. He keeps track in his head. Watch the traffic around the standard-bearer—every unit that comes or goes reports first to the commander.” Fire had been watching the standard-bearer—and his horse—with considerable sympathy, actually, because he seemed to ride twice as far as most of the rest of the army. The standard-bearer’s sole charge was to stay near the commander so that the commander could always be found; and the commander was forever doubling back, breaking off, bursting forward, depending, Fire assumed, on matters of great military import, whatever in the Dells that meant. The standard-bearer always turning circles with him, chosen for that duty, Fire supposed, because he was a fine horseman. Then the prince and the standard-bearer came closer, and once again Fire corrected herself. A fine horsewoman.””
