gruffly. "Thank the gods they took the only thing you don't need to be a commander—or my heir." Cal wondered if he'd heard rightly; he knew his face must show his shock. A grim smile parted his father's beard. "Hadn't thought of it that way, had you? Arms and legs, Cal: brains, eyes, ears—oh, and a strong voice—that's what you need. That you've got. Ask Aesil M'dierra if she ever needed balls to run a company—ask with a mile's head start, and the fastest horse in my stable—you might make it home." He sat down on the stool by the bed. "And thank the gods we didn't give in to young Ali about coming this year. That would have been a real mess." His face o