r

* this law was only sometimes a truth, because now the Men of die Hills came at us in close-ranked battalions.

All we had was a few moments to get the civilians to the far side of the road and down.

From somewhere I felt energy surge, and tore away that stinking robe and the headcover that made me look like a beldam, and shouted for my Lancers to turn to.

Other officers and warrants found hidden strength, and the sorry remnants of a company of the Khurram Light Infantry and Cheetah Troop, Seventeenth Ureyan Lancers, formed what would be our last battle line.

"Wait for them," Bikaner was bellowing from the rear. "Let them get close or I'll have th' hide of anyone wastin' a shaft."

The first wave of screaming tribesmen rose before us, and bows thwacked and arrows buried themselves in their targets.

The hillman hesitated, took a second volley, and fell back.

Another wave charged through their ranks, and they were hit by our arrows, but had too much momentum.

We cast our bows aside, and they were on us, and the world was a whirling mass of blood and steel. I cut a hillman's legs from under him, parried a slash at my head and impaled the man who'd made it, spun, brushing a spear-thrust away with an arm, feeling another spear clang against my armor, slashed at that man without knowing if I hit him, then felt a searing burn as a blade cut into my upper thigh.

Then there was no one to kill, and the tribesmen were ululating their war cry as they fell back.

I looked down at my wound. It was not severe, but it was gory. I looked around for something to tear up as a bandage, and Karjan was there, with a strip of dirty cloth, winding it around my pants leg.

Another charge came, but this one we drove back with arrows.

The tribesmen pulled back, shocked by their heavy losses, and gave us time to confer.

We were in little better shape—the road was littered with dead.

Tenedos was beside me.

"What can I do?"

"Give me a spell that... no. Magic later. Go down the column and get all the civilians forward."

Tenedos was about to ask why, then remembered the way of a soldier, clamped his lips closed, and hurried off.

Captain Mellet came up beside me. We looked off, across the valley. Even through the drifting snow it was easy to see there were many, many hillmen out there.

"Well," Mellet said, "I've killed my ten, but it looks like we've got some slackers. I guess we'll have to go for twenty or thirty each, eh?"

That brought a smile from me. Mellet looked around to make sure no one was in earshot.

"I don't suppose you have anything resembling a plan, Legate?"

"The best I have, sir, is to put the civilians ahead of us, try to keep them moving, and we'll hold them from the rear."

"All the way to Renan?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"I do." Mellet sighed. "But it's not that much better. The problem is, there's a small matter called death that keeps intruding."

He explained his plan. It wasn't much superior to mine, but it did offer a chance.

"As I said," he finished, "it's either some deaths, or everybody's. Most likely it'll be everybody's regardless.

For some reason they didn't use magic this time, but I know they'll set their gods-damned jasks on us when they attack next."

The civilians were moving now, coming past us, stumbling, some crying. I saw Jacoba, Allori with her, and managed a smile.

I explained to Tenedos what the infantry captain proposed.

"I do not like it," he said.

"You do not have to like it, Resident-General," Captain Mellet said formally. "We are now dealing with matters in our area of supposed expertise. I mean no disrespect, but if you * have a demon or two up your sleeve that could turn the tide, now would be an ideal time to produce him, and I'll shut up with a smile."

Tenedos looked at him, and his expression was sad. "I can offer but three spells," he said. "None of them can prevent the sacrifice. One may reduce the potency of whatever magic they plan to use. I imagine they used none this last time because of the arrogance of their chiefs, who sought to conquer with only steel and cunning. "I can probably stop mat "The other two... I'd best prepare them now." He hurried away. In a few minutes, he was ready with his apparatus. The first spell was a weather spell, meant to do no more than increase the strength of the storm. This sounds bizarre, but it could well be vital in our escape.

The second spell was the one against the jasks. I do not know what it was, nor if it worked. As for the third...

Captain Mellet paraded his men on the road. We had archers out on the flanks, to make sure the hillmen wouldn't seize the moment and rush us. I thought they were waiting for dusk, to use the gathering darkness as a shield for their final assault But we still had three hours of light before then.

It tore my heart to see the sorry remnants of his company trying to stand at attention. There'd been of them in Renan. Now, there were no more than fifty, and many of them were wounded.

"Men of the Khurram light Infantry," Captain Mellet began. "When we took our oath, we swore to serve until death. This is our day.

"This is the time for our final gift to our fellows, the men and women of Numantia we vowed to die for.

" "That others may live' is a saying I've heard now and again. I cannot think of a better one to light our way back to die Wheel.

"I choose to make my stand here in mis valley. Those who wish to fulfill their vows... join me now."

The warrants and two surviving legates were the first to cross to him. Then the privates followed, first by ones and twos, then in a stream. At the end, there were only three foot soldiers standing by themselves, shamefaced.

"Very well," Captain Mellet said, and his voice held no anger or scorn. "You have found your vows too heavy. I release you from them. Put down your weapons and go with the civilians, and obey all orders they give you."

One man did just that, but the other two looked at each other and hurried over to where their fellows stood.

"The Khurram Light Infantry will form up," Captain Mellet shouted.

I saw something wonderful then. There were seriously wounded KLI men who'd been in the wagons that'd gone past us. Now I saw some of them coming back, hobbling toward us, the blind led by the halt, a man with but one arm and a wounded leg using his sword as a crutch. We tried to argue, but none of them would listen, and so we let these bravest of the brave join their fellows.

Tenedos was ready with the final spell, and he anointed each KLI man in turn.

We moved off, just as the magically enhanced storm roared in. We moved as fast as we could, in the strangest order imaginable. At our front were ten lancers, then the civilians and the wagons. The Lancers were behind them, in mass, and to the rear, the KLI.

We'd marched only a few hundred yards when our movement was seen, and the hillmen rushed once more.

But they'd made no plans and the attack was ragged and easily driven back.

They tried again, and then we were at the end of the valley.

"The Khurram Light Infantry will take battle positions," Captain Mellet shouted, and the foot soldiers spread out, across the narrows.

"Legate & Comabue," he shouted. 'Tell mem in Numantia of us!

'Tell them there are still men on the Frontiers who know how to die!"

He saluted, and I ordered my Lancers to attention and returned the salute, unashamed tears cutting through the dirt on my cheeks.

Then we marched away, through the pass.

The third spell Tenedos had cast was to make the foot soldiers feel little pain, so they could be struck and struck again and still fight on.

I heard battle begin behind us, and I began praying, to Isa, to Panoan, even to Saionji herself, to grant them an easy return to the Wheel and elevation to the highest in their next life.

The Khurram Light Infantry's last battle was still raging when we went out of earshot.

The tempest crashed around us as we went on and on. We stopped for a few hours to rest and eat. Now there was more than enough room on the wagons. Seer Tenedos examined my wound closely. "A nice clean slash." He muttered a spell over it "This takes its strength from your own body's reserves. If you were old and feeble, it would be like a vampire on your energy, but you've got more than enough to spare."

There were no more enemies with swords. Now our foes were the cold, the wind, the wet, and they slew as gleefully as the bloodiest-handed hillman.

I found Jacoba and Allori, and mounted them on Lucan. I walked beside them, at the head of the column.

Behind me were the Seer Tenedos and Lance Karjan. I never saw either of them stumble or weaken as we went on and on, the road winding through the cliffs close on either side.

We stopped somewhere, ate, and, I suppose, slept for a while, then went on.

I was moving numbly, limping, holding my last reserves close, knowing there could well be a final battle before we reached the end of Sulem Pass. In my heart, I felt we were lost, doomed. None of us would ever reach the flatlands and the safety of Urey.

I looked up once at Jacoba, and could barely recognize her,

a scarf pulled close around her face, ice caked on the shoulders of her coat.

Allori was a small bundle of woolens sitting in front of her. I saw a wisp of blond hair from under her cap and with fumbling frozen fingers tucked it back. The little girl said something, I guess it was thanks, but the wind blew her words away. We went on.

I don't know how long the snow had stopped before I noticed it, but all at once there was no knife-wind cutting me. It was a miracle.

A second miracle came. The rock walls closed in, until they were cliffs only a few hundred feet apart. Then they were gone, and the land was flat around us.

We were on the far side of Sulem Pass. We were beyond Kait, beyond the Border States. We had reached Urey. I felt life, and hope, surge.

I looked back. There was a line of staggering men and women behind me, and behind them, wagons and then, to the rear, ragged men who were Cheetah Troop, Seventeenth Ure-yan Lancers.

I tried to smile, and felt the skin of my cheeks crack. I caught up with Lucan. "We're safe!" I shouted.

Jacoba pulled her scarf aside, and looked at me, numbly at first, then my words penetrated. She gave Allori a hug. "We're alive!" she said, her voice as shattered as mine.

But there was no response from the little girl. Her head was sunk on her chest, her eyes shut. I pulled her cap off, held the back of my hand in front of her nostrils.

A single snowflake fell on my hand and stayed there, not melting.

Allori Pares had died, without our realizing it, within the hour.

My triumph was ashes.

THIRTEEN Jacoba I he crew had barely set the long houseboat's two I anchors when dark clouds raced across the sun, and a JL freezing rain shattered the lake's mirror.

I sprawled on pillows covered with silk and furs in an open pavilion on the boat's top deck, wearing nothing but a long kilt loosely tied at the waist. But I felt no cold: The four sides of the pavilion were covered with a marvelous witch-spelled fabric, a thin cloth as clear as glass that blocked the winter's chill, and an open fire of sweet-smelling woods burned to one side.

It was midmorning, and there were no other boats on the lake, since the Tune of Heat was the most popular season for these craft, not midwinter. The crew, twenty-five strong, had gone into their own below-deck quarters when they were satisfied the boat was secure and we lacked for nothing. If we wished anything more, I had but to ring the small bell set on a table nearby.

There was a pewter mug of a warm, dark drink infused with spices beside me. I sipped, then continued staring at the lake. The cold and pain of the long flight from Sayana drained, and warmth crept into my bones.

"Is this what I was wearing in your dream?" Jacoba asked.

She wore a long robe with a high collar that cradled her smiling face like a loving hand, and then reached to the rugs on the boat's deck. But it was hardly modest, since it was made of a diaphanous black material that hid nothing from the dark are-olae around her nipples to the tuft of hair at her sex.

"Not quite," I said. "Nothing so virginal."

"Then away with it," and she slipped her shoulders back, and the robe fell away to pool around her ankles.

She stretched one foot out, as graceful as a dancer, and ran it up my inner thigh, lifting my kilt.

"In your dream, what did I do?"

"Uhh, you strangled me."

"Nothing before that?"

"There were some... goings-on I seem to recollect," I said.

"In my dream," she said, her voice becoming throaty, "here is what I recollect doing."

She knelt, untied my kilt, and pulled it away. Her tongue traced the ridge of my cock, then she took me into the warmth of her mouth.

"What you're doing ... meets with my own memories," I managed. Her tongue caressed me for a few moments more.

"Next, this is what happened," she said, and, as in my own dream, she bestrode me and I thrust into her.

Her hands caressed my chest as we rose and fell, her long black hair brushing my face. Her sighs came closer together, and merged with my own harsh breathing, and then she cried out once, twice, three times, as I drove hard and then we collapsed on our sides as we died the small death.

It had not always been like this. __ We'd marched only a few miles from the mouth of the pass when a roving patrol of the Tenth Hussars came across our column. Their commander wanted us to stop where we were and they'd ride for help. But all of us were obsessed with one thing: to get as far away from the nightmare of Sulem Pass and the Border States as we could, and so we kept moving. I

learned later the legate in charge of the patrol drove his men at full gallop to the nearest heliograph tower, and that day word of the tragedy went out to all Numantia.

When we stopped that night near a small settlement, villagers came out to help, to do what they could, bringing warm food, firewood, tents, and blankets. All that night wagons arrived with more comforts from Renan and the other cities of Urey. When we moved on late the next morning, none of us were afoot. I was particularly grateful to be able to ride Lucan again, since my leg was throbbing and stiff.

But men and women kept dying from wounds, cold, exhaustion—another thirty of us returned to the Wheel before we reached Renan.

A small part of me wished to curl in a ball and sleep forever, but I could not. There were Lancers to take care of, and Numantians to be responsible for. My discipline held me in a mailed fist.

We were met by a host of dignitaries outside the city, and told we were granted the honors of Renan, and all Urey was honored to provide all we needed—shelter, food, anything— until we recovered.

We listened numbly, not knowing what to make of anything.

I myself had expected to be met with by the provost and arrested. I considered my performance the most dismal of failures. I'd left Renan with about soldiers, including the company of KLI. There were only six of the foot soldiers still alive, only because they were too sore wounded to climb out of the sick-carts and join their fellows. Of the Lancers I'd ridden so proudly away from Mehul with, sixty-five were left, and most of them were sick or wounded. Of the others, about half of Tenedos's staff lived, and only one-third of the Numantians we'd tried to rescue. If there was a bright note, it was that only one of Yonge's hillmen had been killed in the flight. To me, this was dark catastrophe.

Yet when we rode through the gates of Renan, it was as heroes. The city had declared a holiday, and the lamp standards

and flagpoles of the city fluttered with bright banners, and the streets were lined with cheering men and women.

I felt I'd never been party to such a fraud. I suppose Tene-dos guessed what I was thinking, because he issued orders that no soldier was to talk to anyone, not officials, not cityfolk, not inquirers from the broadsheets.

We were quartered in a huge palace on a lake, each of us with his own room.

Luxurious sprung wagons arrived for my Lancers, to return them to Mehul, but they refused. They'd ridden out on horseback, and they'd return the same way.

I'd wanted to return with them, and bury myself in the safe routine of garrison duties, but Tenedos's orders had been very firm: I was, by the gods, assigned to him until otherwise ordered, and there had been no orders, so my duty was clear.

I was presented with an oilskin pouch by the young legate who was to take the men back to Mehul. I thought him young, even though he was slightly older than I was. I thought the last of my youth burned away by the horror of KaiL There were other surprises to come, but none as great as what the pouch contained. It was a single sheet of parchment, containing but one sentence:

Legate Damastes d Cimabue:

I find that your performance commanding Cheetah Troop to be in the highest tradition of the Seventeenth Lancers.

It was signed by Domina Herstal.

To a civilian, that sounds like nothing, but to a soldier in a unit with as high a standard as the Lancers, there could be no greater praise. But I still did not believe it.

I showed the dispatch to Tenedos, and he nodded. "It is but a beginning, Damastes." I had no idea what he was talking about.

I bade Bikaner and the others farewell, and do not know how I was able to keep from crying like a child. I said some words, which were completely inadequate, and wondered if f> any of them knew how much they meant to me, and how they would always hold a place in my heart. I thought I saw Troop Guide Bikaner swallow convulsively when I saluted them, and Lance Karjan seemed to have acquired a cold, because he kept blowing his nose as the last of Cheetah Troop went slowly out of the gate.

I returned to the quarters I'd been assigned, rooms even more palatial than those I'd had in Sayana. Not that it mattered—I would have been as happy, or unhappy, in a single-room hovel.

Sitting on the floor just inside the door were two small cases and on the bed was Jacoba.

I made myself smile politely, and asked her how I could serve her.

She looked deep into my eyes, then shook her head, as if not finding something she'd been expecting.

Finally, she said, "In the pass, we talked about how I might repay you for saving me, about what might happen... if we lived."

I remembered, but said nothing. For some reason, I felt a bit of not-rational anger. All I wished was to be left alone, and it seemed that wish would never be granted. "Is this Tenedos's idea?"

Anger flashed in her eyes, she began to snap an answer, then caught herself.

"Laish Tenedos pays my wages to make his desserts. No more." She stood. "Do you wish me to leave?"

I almost said yes. But there was one tiny bit of sense left, and I shook my head. She put her hand on my shoulder. After a moment, I put my hand over hers.

I felt little hunger, but forced myself to go to one of the dining halls and have a bit of soup. Then I walked in one of the gardens, not feeling the chill for the greater cold within, until it was quite late.

Jacoba was already in the great bed, carefully curled to one side. I undressed as quietly as I knew how, and slipped in beside her, lying on my side. I felt no passion, no lust, not much of anything in particular.

Her hand touched my bandaged leg, then moved up to my back and caressed it, not so much sensual as reassuring. But the ice within me was too thick, and after a moment she sighed and rolled over. After a time her breathing became regular, and after a longer time, I slept.

The next day, Tenedos summoned me. "You remember I said yesterday that your congratulations from your domina was just the beginning?" He held up a sheaf of dispatches. "Here are special orders, sent by heliograph. You and I, and my staff and some of those who were with us on the terrible journey from Sayana, are requested by the Rule of Ten to attend them immediately, and give them a full accounting of the evils worked on Numantians by the barbarians of the Border States.

"We are to await the arrival of the paddleship Tauler, which will be dispatched within a few days," he went on, half-reading, "during which time we are to gather our strength and enjoy the comforts the city leaders of Renan have been directed to provide.

"Then we are to proceed directly to Nicias and await their pleasure." He looked up. 'This is where it shall start, my friend. They thought they were sending me into exile or perhaps my death, but Saionji wanted something else.

"Now they shall be forced to listen to me and realize the time has come for change.

"I tell you, Damastes, none of those who died with us died in vain if it brings about the great renaissance I've dreamt of." He stood and paced back and forth excitedly. "Yes, I can sense it, I can feel it. This is the beginning."

I found polite words, but felt no inner thrill. But if Laish Tenedos, the Seer Tenedos, wished me to accompany him to Nicias, that was as good a place as any. Why not? Far from these mountains, perhaps the ice would melt. But it did not take that long.

That night, both Jacoba and I walked through the gardens. It was cold, and we wore heavy cloaks. We found ourselves standing side by side under one of the huge trees of Urey. Even X, though it was the Time of Storms, the monstrous multicolored leaves still clung to the branches. A few feet from us was one of the many sculptures the palace's gardens were filled with. I paid it little mind.

Jacoba lithely pulled herself up onto a thick branch that curled a few feet above the ground, so her eyes were at the same height as mine.

The night was sharp and clear. I looked out at the mountains, the awful peaks that marked the border to the Border States.

As I watched, a shimmer grew on them, the borealis. Someone spoke to me, a voice of thunder, a voice of silence, and perhaps it was the voice of a goddess, perhaps the voice of a little girl. Perhaps it came from the gods, perhaps from my good, hard common sense.

What the voice said was not in words, but it was very clear.

The world is death, the world is nothing but pain and a desperate fight to avoid returning to the Wheel, and then an equally headlong rush to be taken by it.

If that is how you choose to see it that is the way life is and always shall be, the voice went on. But do you think Captain Mellet and his men wanted death? Didn't they want life, want warmth, love, and the giggling embrace of a woman?

So Saionji took them, took them and the girl Allori. Does she also now own you?

"No," I said, and wasn't aware I'd spoken aloud, vehemently, until Jacoba said "What?" in a startled manner.

"I'm sorry," I said, and turned away from the mountains and death and realized she was very close. Her lips were parted, and her breath was very sweet.

It seemed appropriate to kiss her, and so I did. Her arms fumbled for a moment, then found the entrance to my cloak and pulled me closer to her. I kissed her again, a very long kiss.

"I'm back," I said.

Somehow she understood, or appeared to.

"That's good."

I opened my cloak so it covered us both and we held each

other, me standing, her on the branch, for a very long time, without moving. I kissed her once more, and her legs came around me, and took me into another embrace.

It was warm, comforting, welcoming me, and I felt my spirits lift.

Jacoba giggled.

"What's funny?" I asked.

"That statue."

I peered at it through the gloom, and was grateful for the darkness. I still had some innocence. The stone showed some god loving a nymph. He held her lifted above the ground, hands cupped around her buttocks, her legs wrapped around him, and on both their faces were expressions of goatish glee.

"What's funny about it?"

"You know a man carved it."

"How can you tell?" I wondered. "Other than it's, uh, fairly exact."

"Ah, my handsome young cavalryman, but that's where you're wrong. It's not exact at all."

"Why not?'

"Men aren't that strong," she said. "At least not for very long. If anybody... even a god... tried to make love like that, he'd be sure to fall. Probably on her, too."

"Ah-hah," I said. "Further proof, my pastry chef, you should stick to matters of the kitchen, and not theorize wildly."

"Prove I am wrong," she said. "That is, if your leg is up to it."

"It's not my leg that's up," I murmured, as my hands slid beneath her cloak, and lifted her tunic, and her small breasts sprang against my palms, nipples hard and firm. I massaged them, while my lips sought hers, then kissed down the silk of her neck. Her breath came faster against my ear.

She wore some sort of belted kirtle, and her hands unfastened it and pulled it away, then busied themselves with the ties of my trousers.

I moved both my hands down her sides and across her stomach, fingers entering and gently caressing her.

"Sat gasped * pleasure. I slid my hands under her thighs and picked her up from the branch. Her hand held my cock steady, and I let her slip down onto me, and she shuddered as I drove deep, breath shrilling, gasping and then she buried her shriek into the wool of my cloak as I shuddered and spasmed inside her.

We stood like that forever.

Then she murmured, "You cheated. You used the branch for a brace."

So I had, holding her against the tree as we drove together.

"You still haven't proved you were right," she said.

Still inside her, I lifted her away from the tree and carefully knelt, until she lay on her cloak, mine serving as blanket. I felt myself growing strong, and moved within her. Her legs slid up around my waist and she lifted against me.

When we came back into the palace it was very late, and I was very glad no one was about, for we looked exactly like what we were, with damp leaves everywhere and clothes muddied in the most obvious places.

I was back from that dark realm of death and ice.

I sought Tenedos out the next morning to apologize as subtly as I could for not showing the proper enthusiasm for our summons to Nicias.

"The very man I was about to look up," he said heartily before I could speak. 'Tell me, Damastes, poor lad, do you feel sick?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Oh dear," he said. "The disease you have is truly dreadful, since one of the signs is the carrier is unaware of his state."

I noted the smile on his face, and waited. I was becoming accustomed to Tenedos's way of dealing with matters.

"So I am sick, sir. Why?"

"Sit down, and I'll explain. What do you think will happen when we reach Nicias?"

I thought about it for a few moments. "Forgive me if I sound like a fool, sir. But I'd guess that the Rule of Ten want us to testify as to what happened."

"Of course. So they said in their orders. What comes next?" "Now I'm using some of what you told me, about them wanting to settle the Border States, and using you as a pretext for action. I'd guess they'll mobilize the army and, as soon as the Tune of Dews permits campaigning, march south against Kait.

"As for us ... well, I suppose I'll return to the Lancers, and you'll do whatever you want."

"Let's ignore us for the moment and go back to the former matter. Before this morning, I would have agreed with you as to the Rule of Ten's intents. But I breakfasted with the domina of the Twentieth Heavy Cavalry this morning."

The Twentieth, the Lancers, and the Tenth Hussars were the three elite formations responsible for keeping peace along the border.

"I imagined," Tenedos continued, "that he would have been alerted to such a plan, or do I still not understand the military mind?"

"No, sir. You're correct. Of course the Rule of Ten would send some sort of confidential missive to him, since his unit should be one of the first to take the field. If I were planning the campaign I'd use the Lancers to drive through Sulem Pass and the Twentieth to hold it, so soldiery from the flatlands could enter Kait with the fewest possible casualties."

"Well, he's heard nothing. I gently sounded him about the matter, and he was most surprised he'd not been alerted, given what happened to us."

Anger flooded me. "Are you saying the Rule of Ten won't do anything?"

"I'm afraid that may be exactly what will happen. They'll be terribly outraged at the horror of it all, and then send some sort of threatening note, which Achim Fergana will ignore, and life will continue."

"Son of a bitch!" I said.

"Yes. I've often thought of our rulers in similar words."

"What about the Tovieti? What about Thak?"

"Ignore it and it shall go away. They've ruled Numantia for * !

generations with that policy. Why should things be different now?"

Tenedos still smiled, but his expression was utterly humorless. I controlled myself. Very well. If that was to happen, I was a soldier, and I would continue to serve. Politics were not my affair.

"What does this have to do with my being sick?"

"After I returned from my meal with the good domina, I considered the options. What I need is time, time to send some dispatches north."

"As you did when we recovered the dolls?"

"Exactly. Perhaps if I sound our horn quite loudly it shall be impossible to mute when we arrive in person.

So I sent a message north to the Rule of Ten just an hour ago that you had fallen ill. I said that we would be delayed for a week, and apologized for the delay. Certainly I could not entertain the notion of coming without you, since you have knowledge of important military matters far beyond my ken, so the Tattler's passage can be put off for a few days."

The anger ebbed, and I grinned.

"Just how sick am I to be while you're being a one-man symphony?"

"Quite invisibly ill."

He handed me an envelope.

"You mentioned once, back in Sayana, that you wished to spend time on one of the Ureyan houseboats.

Well, it is not spring nor summer, but arrangements have been made."

"May I ask a favor, sir?"

"You need not," he said. "That also has been taken care of. I guess I can live without my desserts for a week." He looked down at his body, which was regaining its former sleekness. "Someone commented last night I was putting on weight. I suspect she prefers the emaciated look, but be that as it may.

"I want you to perform your disappearing act within the hour. There shall be an ambulance at the rear entrance to the palace to take you and Jacoba to your 'hospital.' "

I saluted him, and hurried off.

Jacoba had already gotten the message, and her case was packed. I'd seen her open but one, and asked her, as I rolled my kit, what was in the other.

"My cooking tools."

"Those two cases ate all you own?"

"All I wish to, right now. When the time comes to own other things, I shall know it, I believe. But at the moment I prefer to travel fast and quickly."

The week on the lavish houseboat floated past easily and quickly. I'm afraid we didn't avail ourselves of many of the services that were available. The lavish meals were all too often eaten cold, the moment having seized us.

Since Jacoba was not much more fond of drink than I, the expensive wines went untasted. Nor did we see much of the winter splendor of the lake, even though the crew moved us every day from place to place.

What we did was make love. Sometimes it was carefully planned, a building crescendo in one of the luxurious bedchambers. But it was as likely to be a sudden burst of passion.

Once, when we'd sent throw rugs and a small table flying, Jacoba murmured afterward, her head against my chest, that whoever owned the boat would have to have it most thoroughly cleaned, since every room now smelled of nothing but musk and semen. "Or, perhaps he'll leave it as it is, and try to find for his next client some rich old fool with a young wife who wishes some aphrodisiacal assistance."

I said I was delighted to be doing such an altruistic service, but that her knee was digging into my side, and could she move a little?

"I could," she said. 'Tell me how. Should we consider whether my heels would fit comfortably behind your neck?"

I said I thought that could be a marvelous experiment, and the world swam away yet again.

"I think I need a vacation from our vacation," I murmured as we left our carriage and reentered the palace.

"Weakling," Jacoba said. "I've been looking forward to getting back, and having a few hours to show these foolish Ureyans a sabayon is not a custard." Her superior had not survived the journey from Sayana, and so Jacoba had been promoted to his place.

Resident-General Tenedos found me in my rooms, where I was contemplating a nap. I'd found that the Tauler had not arrived, although it was expected momentarily.

"My sorcery says you are most miraculously healed," he congratulated me.

"You appear most jovial, sir," I said. "I am, I am. I have had some response to the small missives I sent to Nicias that suggest the Rule of Ten may not commit its usual vacillations after our testimony, although I frankly believe cowardice will always out."

"What happens if it does?" I asked. "I'd hate to think my men and the others died in vain."

"Damastes, don't ever think that The battlefield is always changing. If it is not fought here, well then, it shall be mounted on another day, in another place.

"History cannot be turned back on itself, which the Rule of Ten do not know as yet.

"My day is drawing very near. Which is why I wished to speak to you. I've considered how we should appear once we reach Nicias, and think it would be best if we appear most wonderful and exotic.

'To that end, I sought our hillman Yonge, who is making a most disgusting satyr of himself in the whorehouses of this city. I think the harlots were glad to see his back.

"He was delighted at the thought of accompanying us on our journey, especially when I told him he was to be assigned directly to you. He's quite determined to copy your style of leading, for which I wish him nothing but luck."

Tenedos's light tone vanished. 'Til also be taking four of the poor foot soldiers with us. Perhaps when the Rule of Ten see these men who've given an arm, a leg, or an eye they might be less likely to pass the matter off with an empty threat"

Tenedos took a deep breath, visibly forcing a change of mood.

"I've also written a letter to your domina, and he agreed that certain of the soldiers in Cheetah Troop could be detached to join us.

"I'll welcome your suggestions. Remember, we wish men who'll be very colorful, sending the starkness of the Frontiers deep into the hearts of these city men. And wasn't that a well-turned phrase?"

I thought.

"Lance Karjan ... the one who was your bodyguard in the pass. I'd also be very pleased to have Troop Guide Bikaner," I said, "but I doubt if the domina will give him up. Besides, he'll be busy rebuilding Cheetah Troop up from fresh recruits.

"The archer, Curti, although I'd take him more for his talents than appearance. If I'm allowed one other, that gaur who walks on two legs, Svalbard.

"Maybe if we can't get the Rule to listen, we can turn him loose with a bludgeon and let him provide his own brand of logical convincement."

"Careful, Legate," Tenedos warned. "You're spending too much time around me. You're starting to sound positively treasonous."

I grinned. "One question, sir. Who are you taking to provide this, umm, color you seem to think is vital?"

"Why I'm surprised," Tenedos said. "First, a sorcerer worth his potions needs no outside bullshit to baffle.

"Secondly, Damastes, what do you think you are?"

A day later the Tauler churned its way to the docks in Urey. It was decked with bunting from stem to stern, and a band played gaily on its foredeck.

Its officers and crew were uniformed, and the ship shone as if it had just been launched.

There were barely seventy of us to make the journey, less than a quarter of the usual complement of passengers. The * Tauler was to be ours exclusively, and we were told again and again that anything we wished would be provided for, nothing could be too great for the heroes of the Border States. I tried to lead Lucan and Rabbit aboard myself, and I thought the hostler would die of shame. I tried to give him a coin, and he was even more shocked.

Two stewards led me to my cabin, which was on the top deck of the paddle wheeler, its large portholes looking directly over the ship's bows. There were three rooms, a bedchamber, a sitting room, and an enormous bathchamber. There were four attendants whose sole duty was keeping me happy. I wondered what the suite cost in normal circumstances and shook my head. I would most likely have to loot an entire province to afford it.

The Seer Tenedos had his cabin across the passageway. Its door stood open, and I noted three young women making themselves easy within. The first was one of the women who'd shared his bed in Sayana, the others were maidens he'd met in Renan. One I'd been introduced to as the daughter of one of that city's elders. The city had given its all to make us happy.

As for me, I had Jacoba, and wanted nothing more. She bounced twice, experimentally, on the springs of the large bed.

"I wonder what my mother would say if she could see me now," she said.

"Perhaps... shameless doxy?"

"Not likely, since she was kept by one of our district's counselors, and she told me she was never quite sure who my father was, other than he was certainly not that old lecher.

"She'd most likely be proud of me," Jacoba went on, "and tell me to not waste a single second of this time."

She unstrapped her sandals, kicked them off, and leaned back on the bed, bringing one knee up and letting it fall to the side and sliding her dress up over her bare, brown thighs.

"Come here, Damastes," she murmured. "I always listened to my mother's advice."

**

Sometimes we had our meals sent to the cabin, sometimes we went to the dining room, so Jacoba could evaluate the wares of her competitors and, she added, "steal any ideas worth the thieving." I used the excuse of letting my wound heal, although, thanks mostly to Tenedos's magic, my leg was nearly completely mended.

Seer Tenedos also held to his cabin for most of the journey, and when he did appear his three women danced close attendance on him. I was amused—they behaved like pheasant hens doting on their cock at the start of mating season.

I did encounter him alone late one night.

He was leaning on the top deck's railing, staring back at our wake. I could tell he had been drinking, although his speech was unslurred.

We talked of this and that, then, without preamble, he said,

"Are you ready to go back?" "Back where?"

"Into Kait. But not as a legate, and not at the head of a single troop of cavalry."

I looked at him curiously. Perhaps part of me never wanted to see that country again, not its sere peaks, not its dry deserts, and above all not its treacherous, deadly people. But I knew that was where my duty lay, and most likely the rest of my career would be spun out in the Border States. "Of course, sir."

Tenedos nodded once, as if that was the answer he'd expected, and walked off, without saying good night.

I stared after him. Suddenly I had questions that I'd not be able to ask him on the morrow when he was sober, and I'd missed my chance now.

How would he be able to decide what rank I might gain, let alone what commands I might have?

I wondered then, and have wondered many times since, if being a seer does allow a slight glimpse into the future. Or was Tenedos merely speaking from his own soaring ambition?

**

fi "I don't think I can come anymore," Jacoba whispered.

"I know I can't."

"Where'd the pillow go?"

"It's right over... no. It got kicked to the floor. With the blankets. Here."

I kissed her soft wetness once more, then turned end for end and lay beside her. She put her head on my shoulder. I stroked her back sleepily.

"What happens," I said, after a time, "when we reach Nicias?"

Jacoba moved away, and rolled onto her stomach.

"You mean with us?"

"Yes."

Jacoba took a deep breath. "Don't misunderstand me, Damastes, but 'us' stops when we get to the city."

I was suddenly completely awake, feeling the world shudder around me, although to be honest I'd wondered how our affair would continue. Having little money, I wouldn't be able to afford to find her apartments during my stay in Nicias. When I returned to the Lancers, there'd be no place for her, and I doubted she'd want to leave the capital for a staid, sleepy garrison town. Even if I wished to wed, which I certainly did not at this time, legates are not permitted to marry save under the most extraordinary circumstances. And I could hardly expect her to find living quarters on Rotten Row as a poverty-stricken officer's mistress.

"Can I ask why?"

"There's not anyone else," she said. "There hasn't been since before I took the job with Tenedos. And it's not that I don't... care about you. Maybe I even love you, although I'm not sure what the word means, really."

"Then where's the problem?"

"The problem is Seer Tenedos," she said. "Let me tell you something about myself. I'm not very adventurous."

"Of course you aren't," I said. 'That's why you took a nice, safe job making sweets for a magician in the Border States."

"There was a bad time in my life then. Something... some-

* body that meant a lot to me turned out to be different than I thought. And I'd been cooking in the same damned place for almost three years, working for a pig who'd never teach me his secrets and ordered me around like I was his bonded slave.

"I heard about the position and applied for it. I guess I thought there'd be something glamorous, going to a faraway land, living in a mansion, and making the daintiest of morsels for noblemen and diplomats. Instead..." She laughed ruefully. "No. This has been enough adventure for the rest of my life.

"Let me tell you what my dream is, Damastes. I want, someday, to own my own restaurant. Not a big one, and not in the center of a city. Somewhere on the outskirts, near some rich estates.

"I'll have customers who don't mind paying for the best, but whose palates aren't sophisticated enough to tell when the meringue's a little scorched.

"As for a man, I'd want someone who's steady. Loyal. Good enough in bed. A nice man who won't get tired of me, or mind if I get a little fat.

"Children, maybe three or four.

"A nice quiet life, where the biggest dramas are whether the oysters are delivered on time, or if the melon has gone bad, or stopping little Fredrik from pushing his sister into the water barrel.

"Is that the life you want, Damastes?"

I was silent.

"Of course not," she went on. "I can feel greatness. Laish Tenedos will be a great man, greater than he is today. Whether he accomplishes all his dreams ... I don't know. I'm not sure there are any limits to what he wants.

"As for you, well, I can see you tall, dignified, perhaps a bit of gray at your temples. A general of cavalry, respected by his country. Perhaps a count, with great estates and a beautiful lady waiting for you at one of your mansions.

"Perhaps you would go for a ride one day, with your staff, and stop by a humble inn for your midday meal.

"I wonder if we would recognize each other?"

"That makes me feel very sad," I said quietly.

"Why should it? We are as Umar made us, we strive to fulfill what Irisu wishes us to become, and we fight as best we can against Saionji as she destroys us. Then, at the end, we welcome her embrace, return to the Wheel, and she grants us rebirth.

"What can be sad about that?"

The right words took a while to form.

"It's sad," I said finally, "because I want to think we're more than small helpless beings on a treadmill."

"Of course you do," she said. "And that's why you'll be a general, and I'll be an innkeeper.

"But enough of that. We've still almost a week before we reach Nicias." She yawned. "Do me a favor. Get the oil from that stand, and rub it into my back before we go to sleep. My skin's terribly dry."

I obeyed, poured some of the oil, which smelled of orange blossoms, onto my hand, and slowly, gently, began rubbing it across her shoulder blades and then lower and lower still.

After a time she said, "You have a very loose idea of just where my back is." Her breath caught sharply.

"That is certainly not my back."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No. Oh no. Put another finger in me. No. Back there. Yes. Deeper. Oh gods. Oh, Jaen."

She moaned. I rubbed oil on my cock, rose to my knees, slipped the pillow from under her head, rolled it into a cylinder and slipped it just under her pelvis. I moved between her thighs, as she opened them. I caressed her sex with the head of my cock from its beginnings to where it ended, once, twice, three times, then slipped it between her buttocks and touched her tight rosebud.

"There," I whispered. "Do you want me there?"

"Oh yes," she said. "Yes. There. In me. Now, Damastes, now!"

I pushed, and there was resistance, then her ring relaxed, then clenched firm as I slipped into warmth. I cared nothing

more about Nicias, generals, or anything else as we spun higher and higher into the heavens.

Every boat that had ever been built came to meet us as the Tauler thrashed its way up to the flag-bedecked dock. People were cheering, blowing whistles and horns, beating on drums. There were more organized bands ashore, each playing a different melody, although as we neared shore they reached some kind of agreement and broke into the Numantian anthem. Unfortunately none of them began at the same moment nor in the same key, so the cheery cacophony continued.

All of Nicias was behind the rope barricades at the end of the dock, barely held back by a cordon of brightly uniformed cavalrymen. These were the Golden Helms of Nicias, parade soldiers whose panoply was reserved for the greatest events.

The twin gangplanks banged down, and the crowd bellowed. I thought the line of soldiers would give way, and wondered if our fate was to be trampled in reverent honor.

Jacoba stood beside me, her two cases at her feet.

"Well," I began, looking for exactly the right words.

Jacoba put her arms around me, kissed me once, then pulled free from my embrace.

She picked up her cases and ran swiftly up the gangway to the dock. She glanced back, then vanished in the crowd.

A piece of my soul went with her.

FOURTEEN The Rule of Ten If I'd thought being a hero in Sayana was

overwhelming, now we were drowned. The cheering crowd swept down on us and caught Seer Tenedos and myself up in their arms. They began carrying us off, where I knew not. I think we were lugged through every street in the capital, whether boulevard or alley, and everyone wished to touch us, throw flowers at us, or shout offers to pleasure us in as many ways as existed, from food to bed.

I managed to keep a smile on my face, and to pretend as if I were greeting people, although in the hubbub I couldn't be heard and was able to save my voice.

Tenedos bowed, waved, gestured as if he were a priest instead of a seer. His eyes gleamed with pleasure.

For a moment, the naked adulation was seductive, but then the thought came, What would it be like if next time the crowd hated you? These same loving hands would tear you apart in seconds.

Eventually we were brought to the bridge that crosses a branch of the Latane River to the moat-surrounded Rule of Ten's palace. The crowd would have carried us over the bridge, but there were three lines of dismounted Golden Helms blocking them, and two lines of the city's wardens in front of them. We were grudgingly let down. Tenedos waved for silence, and eventually the yammering died away a bit.

"Great people of Numantia and Nicias," he shouted, and then the crowd bellowed its pleasure, and I heard no more, although his lips kept moving. He motioned—back away, toward the bridges—and I obeyed. When we reached the wardens I sagged in relief, and realized I'd been terrified of what could have happened in that crowd. They swiftly escorted us through the cavalrymen and across the square to the broad steps that led into the palace.

Waiting for us was a man in robes faced with multicolored embroidery, who carried a staff of gold and ivory. "I bid you welcome," he shouted so the crowd behind could hear. "I am Olynthus, chamberlain for the Rule of Ten. In their name, I grant you the freedom of the city and the gratitude of all Numantia. We shall see you are properly honored." His voice went down to normal. "The journey and your, er, most tumultuous reception by our citizenry must have been tiring." He waved the staff, and two bowing servitors appeared. "Since you are high in the esteem of the Rule, we wish to offer you our own hospitality, and bid you follow these men to rooms which I trust will not disappoint."

I saluted, and Tenedos bowed. Hidden trumpets blared, and the two servants beckoned.

I wondered what sort of quarters we would be lodged in. Since this was the third palace I'd guested in, I felt I was becoming a bit of a connoisseur. I'd expected this to be the grandest of them all.

I was somewhat disappointed. I noted that the carpet we walked on, while still magnificent, was beginning to show a bit of threads at the center. The paintings on the walls had begun to fade somewhat, and the inlaid wallpaper was stained here and there. I saw that the uniforms of the various palace servants we passed were immaculate, but just a little shabby.

The Palace of the Rule of Ten, in short, looked like the residence of a respected uncle, someone who'd gotten rich years

earlier, arranged his manse to please himself, and then let things slide quietly downhill.

But most of these perceptions came later, when I thought about what had happened. Now my nerves were on edge, waiting to see what the morrow would bring.

It was even more disastrous than I'd feared.

The hearing on "The Recent Regrettable Incidents in the Border States, called by Its People the Kingdom of Kait" began after midday. We were told the Rule of Ten little liked to conduct public business in the morning, devoting that to their own private concerns.

"Which means," Tenedos muttered, "making money or sleeping late."

We waited outside the audience chamber in full regalia. I wore the full-dress uniform of the Lancers, as did Lances Kar-jan, Svalbard, and Curti. Legate Yonge wore his best civilian garb, but with the sash of a legate in the Numantian Army wound around his waist. None of us were armed except Yonge, even though custom dictated that Lancers wear arms with any uniform. But we'd been told by the palace's head guard that no one, absolutely no one, was permitted to carry instruments of death into the presence of the Rule of Ten. Yonge had growled and given up his saber, but when a guard reached for his dagger he'd clapped his hand on its hilt and said no one could touch that and live. The guard began to object, looked into Yonge's cold eyes and hard features, and decided he never saw the blade.

Tenedos was garbed not as a Numantian resident-general, but in seer's robes, as if disdaining any part of the Rule of Ten's policies.

We were ushered into a large room, its walls paneled in dark wood. There was a railing near one end of it, and behind it the long raised dais where the Rule of Ten would sit. There were benches for those who would speak to the rulers of Numantia, a place for a note-taker, and seats for spectators. It looked more like a trial chamber than anything else.

The room had little room for the merely curious; every Numantian broadsheet that could find a writer in Nicias had sent a representative. The other observers were richly dressed, obvious members of the government. Some of them, I found later, were from the city's own rulers, the Nicias Council. It was generally considered as rock-bound as the Rule of Ten.

After half an hour's wait, we were ordered to rise and the Rule of Ten entered. They wore black ceremonial robes and dignified expressions. A priest blessed the gathering, and invoked Irisu and Panoan. As he did, Tenedos prayed briefly to himself in a low whisper, and I caught the name of the Destroyer and Creator, the goddess few had the courage to invoke, Saionji.

The speaker, a man in his early sixties named Barthou, welcomed us in a cordial tone, asked if we had been treated acceptably since our return to Numantia, and if we wished anything.

Tenedos rose and said we did not—we had been treated most cordially.

"I hope so," Barthou said, his voice drenched in sincerity,

"even though nothing can compensate for those terrible events I now wish you to tell us about." Tenedos began his tale.

I watched the Rule carefully. Tenedos had cast a Square of Silence spell—four identical objects at the corners, then words I couldn't understand, and it would take an experienced seer some time to break the spell and listen to what was being said—and told me much about who we'd be facing. The two members of the Rule whom Tenedos counted as in his camp I readily recognized from his descriptions. The first, quite old, was Mahal. Tenedos had said he was less convinced of the seer's philosophy than his new, very young and beautiful wife from a shopkeeper's family who was, like most of her class, intensely patriotic. She also prided herself on keeping current with every new idea that came to Nicias, "so," Tenedos said, "perforce Mahal must be dragged along with her into the embrace of the new, untried, and radical."

Our second friend was Scopas. He was middle-aged, and enormous. He was hardly a jolly fat man; his face showed the hard lines of intelligence and hard ambition.

Only the speaker, Barthou, and two others were worth worrying about, Tenedos had said. Those two, Farel and Chare, were young, in their late thirties, and had only been on the Rule for a few years. Tenedos warned me not to misjudge them by their years; they were as hidebound and reactionary as the most doddering ancient.

The other five would be counted on to vote whichever way they thought safest, which gave Barthou a solid majority.

"All we can hope to do is shame them into taking some action," Tenedos said. "Now is when I'd prefer to have more of the talents of the demagogue than the magician.

"I wish to several demons-haunted hells I did know some spells to warp the Rule's vote. But even if I did, they have the palace so surrounded by protective spells I'd never be able to finish the casting. And that would mean my death—it's the ax for anyone attempting to use sorcery against our leaders."

Tenedos's testimony was peppered with constant questions from the Rule, which were more to make sure the questioner appeared alert and interested than actually seeking knowledge, so the seer had just reached the point of our meeting at the ford and the ensuing skirmish when the meeting was adjourned.

Of course Tenedos said nothing about why he thought my orders to join him had come as late as they had, nor did he make any mention of the safe-conduct that didn't exist, nor why he believed the Rule of Ten had actually sent him to Kait.

The broadsheets that night were filled with the day's testimony, and accompanied by sketches of Tenedos and myself.

"Quite impossibly good-looking," Tenedos said, looking at one. "No doubt the morrow will find several marriage proposals, my young friend."

So it did, but more than several, and only a few of them were concerned with matrimony, but rather more immediate pastimes. There were nearly fifty, and they came from everyone from grandmothers who certainly should have known better to passionate scrawls from girls just out of the nursery. A number of women enclosed small gifts with their missives, mostly sketches or miniatures of themselves. Some of them were surprisingly good-looking. I puzzled over three letters: Each of them contained a tiny tuft of eurly hair, and I Slushed and felt like a fool when Tenedos dryly explained their obvious origin.

"So what do I do with these letters, sir?" "You could answer them." "I don't think so." "Not even this one?"

I looked at the intaglio. "She's certainly pretty," I agreed. "With nothing to hide. But I've got to wonder—if she was so suddenly taken with me, as this letter says, and I must bed her this very night in the spirit of Jaen... when did she have time to get the engraving made?"

"Hmm," Tenedos said, gravely. He picked up the metal plate and pretended to examine its blank reverse closely. "Ah yes. You have a much sharper perception than I. On its back this says it's number forty-seven of a set of three hundred." "Should I return the letters?"

"Damastes, sometimes your brain fails you. Why bring heartache? How many of these fair women have husbands, lovers, fathers? Not to remind you that some of them might think it was your fault their loved ones were so suddenly stricken with lust."

Yonge wanted to read them, but I fed them into the fire that night.

On the second day, we were able to move more swiftly, and I was asked to narrate some incidents as well.

Once more, the broadsheets screamed of the monstrosities of Achim Fergana, and the horrors of Kait, and there were twice as many proposals.

But after the third day's appearance, by which time we'd reached the point of Achim Fergana's victory banquet, the defection of Jask Irshad, and the killer fog, there was nothing whatsoever, except a brief mention that the hearing was continuing.

i * "This bodes very poorly," Tenedos said. "The Rule of Ten strictly control the broadsheets. I suppose they've decided we've become entirely too popular, or what we're saying is likely to so inflame the populace they'll be forced to take strong action against Kait.

"I fear we're doomed, Damastes."

The next, the fourth, day, the broadsheet writers were still in attendance, although I saw that none of them were writing down our testimony. The members of the Nicias Council weren't present, and had allowed underlings to appear in their place for amusement. Then Tenedos mentioned the Tovieti. Instantly Bar-thou was standing, the rod of office held before him.

"This has now entered the realm of state secrets," he said. "Resident-General Tenedos, please cease speaking until the chamber is cleared."

Guards hastily hustled the audience out.

Tenedos, looking very unhappy, continued his tale. When he'd finished, there were no questions or comments, and Bar-thou adjourned the session.

Three more days went the same, and we were finished. During our story of the final retreat from Sayana, Barthou and his lackeys had urged Tenedos and myself to speak more succinctly—-there were other matters requiring their immediate attendance.

Then we were done.

The Rule of Ten said they would announce what action they planned to take as soon as possible, and thanked us once more for appearing.

We'd barely returned to our rooms when we were summoned by the guards. Before I met Tenedos, and was still innocent about the ways of government, I would have thought this meant their ire had been righteously roused, and there'd be an immediate declaration of war against Kait But now I knew better.

And so it was. The room was empty except for the recorder, ourselves, and the Rule of Ten. Mahal would not look at Tenedos, and Scopas's expression was completely unreadable.

In smooth, measured tones Barthou said that Kait had erred

most grievously, and there would be a most harsh diplomatic note sent to Sayana, "as soon as circumstances permittea its transmission." That meant they weren't even brave enough to send a full regiment of cavalry down the Sulem Pass and shove the note down Achim Fergana's throat.

Anger grew within me.

"We further proclaim mercantile sanctions against Kait," Barthou went on. "These, which will be announced within a week, will be maintained until Baber Achim Fergana makes appropriate restitution to the victims of the Sulem Pass horror."

Mercantile sanctions? What punishment was that? The men of the Border States took what they wanted at swordpoint, or traded surreptitiously in remote villages.

"Finally," Barthou said, "it is our decision that the matter of the Border States and their dissident natives has been ignored too long. Therefore, we are summoning a Great Conference, to be attended by the rulers of all states who touch on their lands, to be held in the Tenth Day of the Time of Births to discuss the matter.

"The Rule of Ten has spoken! Proclaim this word throughout all Numantia!" He started to set the rod of office down.

Tenedos was on his feet, speaking even before he was recognized: "But what of Thak? What of the Tovieti?"

Two of the Ten looked at each other.

"Local phenomenon," Chare said. "Not worth concerning ourselves about."

"Then why was I ordered to report on them when I first went to Kait? You seemed most concerned about the matter then."

"We were unaware of the nature of the ... phenomenon," Chare said. "Now we are satisfied it is of little consequence."

"I declare this meeting over," Barthou said hastily, before Tenedos could challenge them any further.

Now rage took me like a mastiff shakes a kitten, and I was standing. All that I could see was that stormy pass, and hear Captain Mellet's last words: "Tell them there are still men on the Frontiers who know how to die!"

"Are you all cowards that—" I managed, then gasped as I * Tenedos kicked me on the ankle, hard enough to make me stumble back against the bench. Before I could recover, the Rule of Ten had stood and swept out, so many crows walking a limb.

I almost went after them, and I saw alarmed guards start toward us. Tenedos and then Karjan had me by the arms, and were moving me out of the chamber as quickly as the Rule of Ten had fled.

I found enough self-control not to break away, or snarl at my two friends, and I let myself be taken to my rooms. I paced back and forth like a caged tiger, staring at the door, wishing one of those cowardly bastards would come through it But the only one who did, and that after two hours, was Laish Tenedos, who tapped softly, then entered without waiting for an invitation.

He held two ornate crystal goblets and a great decanter of brandy.

"This is seventy-five years old," he said. "It's supposedly good for soothing wrath. At any rate the palace's vintner says it will make you amazingly drunk and free of worries."

"I'll be blasted if I want anything from them, especially not their damned drink!"

"Tut, tut," soothed Tenedos. "Never turn down a chance to drink an enemy's liquor. It can be the sweetest of all, while you plan for the future."

He poured the goblets quite full and handed me one.

I took it, started to drain it, then stopped. I took two deep breaths, then pulled the stopper from the decanter and began pouring the liquor back. If you drink, it should only be when times are good.

But before the glass was emptied, I had a second thought, and left a single swallow.

I lifted it in a toast.

'To Captain Mellet," I said. "I, at least, shall not forget him."

Tenedos looked at me in surprise, then nodded agreement.

'To Captain Mellet." We drained our glasses.

"Thank you, Seer. I think it is time I sleep." "As you wish, my friend. For me, sleep may require some assistance." He picked up the decanter. "I shall see you in the morning."

But in spite of my words, the world was gray outside before I was able to sleep.

Later that day, Seer Tenedos and I were called to the Rule of Ten's chamber. I expected to be disciplined for my outburst, and resolved to take whatever punishment those fools had come up with stoically.

There were only two of the Rule of Ten in the chamber: Farel, one of Barthou's contingent, and Scopas. He sat in Barthou's seat.

"Legate Damastes k Cimabue," he began, "it is the decision of the Rule of Ten that you have served us well.

"In recognition of this, we have ordered you promoted to captain of the Lower Half, this promotion to become effective immediately."

I was damned if I would give either of them the satisfaction of gaping, and managed to keep my face still.

My outburst had been ignored, and instead my sash of office would now carry a single black band, a promotion I would not have expected in peacetime for ten years, and that after only the most meritorious service.

"We also think that your standards are worthy of note, and therefore are reassigning you from the Frontiers to our capital. You are hereby given a new posting to Numantia's proudest formation, the Golden Helms of Nicias." Fuck!

"There is another reason we made this decision," Scopas went on. "We may wish to hear more details of your harrowing experience in the Border States when the Border Conference assembles, and wish you to remain close at hand."

He fell silent. I knew what I was supposed to do, but hated doing it. But a soldier must accept the harsh as readily as the soft, and so I came to attention, clapped my chest in salute, wheeled, and marched out, followed by Yonge and Karjan.

K I started for my quarters, feeling, as one of my lycee instructors would have put it, shit and sugar, but mostly shit. But the guard stopped me, and said I was to wait for Resident-General Tenedos.

It was about half an hour later when the seer emerged, a tight smile on his face.

"We have great reason to thank the Rule of Ten," he said in a clear voice. "They have done us a boon, and we are in their debt"

When he and I were alone in his rooms, and his Square of Silence spell in place, he started to explain, but saw my expression first.

"Will it be that bad?" he asked.

I started to find some polite military lie, then decided to tell the truth.

"It won't be the best, sir. All I'll be doing is polishing brass, riding up and down, and holding the door open for fat-ass diplomats, begging your pardon, sir. It'll be a year, maybe more, before I'll be able to put in to transfer to some unit where there's likely to be some action. Hells, I don't even know if the Lancers will be willing to take me back."

"Legate," Tenedos said, "I was not speaking for unseen ears when I said we had been granted a boon. I'm very glad you're being stationed here in Nicias, for purely selfish reasons.

"I'll make a bet with you. Within a year... no, two at the outside, I'll have need of your service, and not to open any doors for me, either."

"What do you mean?"

"Time will answer that question," he said. "I shall not, because I can't tell how the future shall twist. But I know this course cannot run true much longer."

At the moment I had little patience for his theories about how the days of Numantia's rulers were numbered, but I said nothing. Then my natural curiosity took me.

"What reward did you receive, sir? I hope one more satisfactory than mine."

"Most definitely. Scopas praised me to the heavens, then

said I could either remain in government service or return to civilian life. If I chose the former, he had a list of some eight posts I could pick from.

"I scanned them quickly, and found them to be just as I'd expected—places where I would be absent from the public eye, and unhappy enough to resign in a short time.

"So I picked the worst of all—in their minds.

"Congratulate me, Legate. I am now the head of the Military Sorcery Department for the Lycee of Command."

That academy was intended to train hand-picked dominas for the highest rank in the army. An officer chosen for that school was guaranteed he'd see general rank before retiring unless he committed some unimaginable error.

"Now," he went on, "I knew full well before you told me just how low an opinion the army has of magic, which we've discussed. So now, in the bowels of the beast, I'm expected to be digested and shat out into the darkness, and my radical theories heard no more.

"But this shall be where I prove my ideals. Prove them and find the disciples I'll need. If I cannot, well then, Saionji has picked a weak vessel for her message. But I doubt that.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, indeed. The Rule of Ten will bitterly rue this day."

I was glad one of us was content. As for me, in spite of Tenedos's reassurances, I was trapped in Nicias.

FIFTEEN The City of Lights I wasted no more time in the palace, but

swiftly packed my gear and prepared to move to the barracks of the Golden Helms. Tenedos said he'd see that Yonge fell into as little mischief as possible, and took him into his employ, "always needing," Tenedos said, "the duties of a good serviceable murderer in these unsettled times.

"I hope," he went on, "the next time we serve together it shall be in happier times and circumstances.

Assuming you do wish that to happen."

I thought about it for a moment, then grinned. I'd chosen a life of adventure, and certainly being around the seer had granted that. I was still sound in limb, and had learned an infinite amount in the year or so we'd been together.

"Seer," I said formally, "you have but to call. I'll follow your orders again."

And so I swore my first oath of fealty to Laish Tenedos. It was the least ceremonious of them all, but the most important, remembering our family motto:

We Hold True.

I bade Tenedos farewell, and promised to look him up at the lycee as soon as I settled into my new post.

I asked Lancer Karjan if he wished to remain my servant,

which I knew would be permitted, or return to the Lancers. He thought hard, then grunted and said, "I'll see this un through. F'r a while at least. Sir."

We were offered a carriage, but didn't need it, tying what little gear we had behind to Lucan's and Rabbit's saddles. Rabbit by now was used to riders other than myself, so he snorted only once when Karjan climbed into the saddle, and we set off to join the Golden Helms.

The Rule of Ten may have been complacent, but it did not show from the way they had positioned the military about Nicias. The army's main elements were just to the north of the Palace of the Rule of Ten, as were two other regimental headquarters, guarding their masters from a bare five minutes' distance. I wondered how much real trust the Rule of Ten had in their own people.

A branch of the River Latane was about half a mile to our west as it curved through the city, and there was one of Nicias's huge parks, named Hyder Park, between us and the lace.

Even though it was still winter, the weather was quite pleasant, as it generally is in Nicias, the farthest north and closest to the equator of all Numantia's cities, so our ride was quite pleasant. We admired the park's bridle paths, gazebos, open-air taverns, and swan-decorated lakes. I thought it most curious that all the people I saw were well dressed and comfortable looking, a far cry from most of the city's populace. I wondered if the general populace was kept out by order, or if it was a matter of custom as was so much in this ancient city.

The Golden Helms' brick barracks sprawled among rolling lawns, graveled parade grounds, and manicured rol fields. Even though I knew I would hate this assignment, a half-smile touched my lips as we rode under the arching entrance to the cantonment, a smile of familiarity. Here a punishment squad under the snarling guidance of a lance-major spaded fertilizer around trees with their trunks uniformly painted white for three feet above the ground; there another warrant bawled * orders at the awkward squad riding back and forth on a parade ground; an anxious officer hurried down one of the twisting stone paths, intent on a private errand and barely noticing the salute of a passing lance.

Familiar... but not really, for I realized at this time of day, early afternoon, the area should be filled with soldiers drilling, at sport, being lectured to, or practicing their tactics.

We asked our way to the regiment's headquarters, and I reported to the adjutant, a captain of the Upper Half named Lardier, and inquired when it would be convenient for me to present myself to the unit's domina.

"Perhaps tomorrow." The adjutant yawned. "Domina Lehar may have returned from his estate. Or perhaps not. Certainly he'll be back by the Twenty-Sixth Day, for there's an important parade, in honor of the Prince of Hermonassa, then.

"But don't worry, Captain a Cimabue. He's aware of you. We've all heard of your coming.

"By the way. Congratulations on your promotion. I'm sure you deserve it, and hope that a combat veteran such as yourself encounters no difficulties with the customs of the Golden Helms."

He turned and looked at a chart. "Mm. Yes. I think I'll put you in charge of B Troop. They call themselves the Silver Centaurs. Legate Nexo was in temporary command of the troop, but you have rank on him. Perhaps he'd be willing to serve on under you, although I doubt it."

I'd known this would happen, even in a line regiment. My rapid promotion over who knows how many thousand young legates would rouse resentment not only in the hearts of those I overleaped, but from my superiors as well. I would have to soldier well to find approval in their eyes.

"I'll have a word with the legate," I said. "Who is my troop guide?"

"At the moment... well, you don't have one. He bought himself out of the army a month or so ago, and Domina Lehar hasn't gotten around to promoting one yet. See what you think of your men, and offer some suggestions, there's a good man."

I saluted, and turned to leave.

"One more thing, Captain. Are those your horses outside? I thought so. Well, you can certainly keep them for off-duty mounts. But all the men of B Troop ride blacks. I'll notify the remount officer you'll be needing a new charger. You can select one at your leisure." I withdrew, somewhat shaken at my more-than-casual welcome, and went to my troop area.

Each troop had a separate building, with the regimental headquarters at the center of the cluster, and behind that the necessary shops for the unit's support. When I arrived the barracks were nearly deserted, and the only warrant in the orderly room was a junior lance-major. He sprang to attention, and I noted that his uniform was immaculate, as was everything else I'd seen.

I told him who I was, and asked where Legate Nexo was.

He said in the city, visiting friends.

I made no comment, but thought this was the most social unit I'd ever seen. Where were the men of my troop? A few on detail, some in the stables, but most of them, since B Troop was standby troop this week, on pass in Nicias.

"Standby, eh? What are we on standby for?"

"Well, sir, in the event of any emergency."

"How would they be summoned, if they're all farting about in taverns?"

The lance-major looked perplexed. "Well, sir, there's never been an occasion like that in the six years I've been with the regiment. But I suppose we'd have to wait until they reported back. Maybe send messengers to the taverns the troop usually drinks in."

I began to growl an opinion, but caught myself in time. There is no bigger military fool than the one who joins a new formation and instantly knows what must be changed. I politely thanked the lance-major, and had him show me to my quarters.

As a troop commander and captain, I'd expected a room to myself, but I was quite pleased with how large it was, including not only a bedroom and separate office, but also a bathroom and small chamber for Karjan. I ordered Karjan to take Lucan and Rabbit to the stables. He saluted, started to leave, then hesitated.

"What's the problem, Lance? You may speak freely." "Beggin' th' leg—captain's pardon, sir, but what the hells kind of army have we went an' joined?"

It was a good question, and became a better one in the next several days. First came Legate Nexo, a rather effete young man who affected a lisp. No, he'd rather not remain with B Troop, but wished to transfer where he'd be, er, among friends of his own sort. I could probably have put him in hack—sentenced to quarters—for a week for insolence. But I would rather have taken him back of the barracks, stripped off my sash, and invited him to discuss the matter in a more direct manner. But I knew an officer of his ilk would never, ever stoop to striking someone with his bare hands, and would have immediately reported me.

As for the men I had under my charge: On the surface, it appeared I was in command of a unit an officer dreams of. I was only five men short of a full troop's strength, which is always a miracle. Almost all of my men had at least a year's service, and about half of them were career soldiers. They were all good-sized, the smallest being only five inches short of six feet, and a few even towered over me. They were in the best of health—no one could complain about the quality of our rations, nor the manner in which they were prepared and served.

Our horses were groomed twice a day, well exercised, and fed properly. The harness was always freshly soaped and polished, and the brightwork shone like a mirror.

The men's turnout was equally spectacular. I ordered a series of inspections, and the biggest offense I could find was a man who hadn't completely cleaned the bianco off the inside of his helm, where the strap was riveted.

I did not chastise him. Even the soles of their boots were blackened before they fell out for parade.

They maneuvered perfectly, and every parade-ground evo-

lution was done precisely, from "Squad... Assemble" to "Pass in Review." They could raise a cheer and charge past dignitaries without their line wavering more than a foot.

They could ... enough!

They were the shiniest group of soldiers I've ever had the misfortune to command. Even now, all these years later, I find it impossible to refer to them as "mine," or "we," but only "they." If, Irisu forbid, they had ever been forced to fight a single squad of my sometimes-scruffy, sometimes-underfed, mostly undersized Lancers, the skirmish wouldn't have been remembered by the men of the Seventeenth.

These "Silver Centaurs" knew nothing of how to fight with their weapons, although they did wonderfully pretty pirouettes when they paraded through the streets of Nicias. Sabers were to be presented, lances were to hang pennons on, and daggers were for ornament.

They stood guard in front of the government buildings in Nicias, but if a mob had charged, they would have screeched and run in dismay, not having the slightest idea of what to do next As far as tactics, if I'd ordered them to dismount and advance with bare saber using all cover, I might have been speaking Kaiti. Camouflage, scouting, skirmishes, courier service, flank guard—all the real duties of a cavalryman in war were unknown. The only regimental charge they could manage was across a flat, well-groomed parade field for the approval of diplomats and cheering citizens on holiday.

There was nothing intrinsically wrong with these men. Almost all soldiers are the same; it is their leaders who make the difference. These same men, well and hard trained, could have been as good or better than any Lancers.

But the Golden Helms were as rotten as the Rule of Ten. Domina Lehar was more interested in the mansions and rice fields he owned a day and a half s journey beyond Nicias to the west, in the delta. The rest of the officers were the same sort of popinjays, fools, and idle gentlemen I'd seen at the lycee, of various ages, ranks, and states of disrepair, and in the Helms there was no one to bring them back to reality.

* I've heard that in some puffed-chest regiments like the Helms it's forbidden to discuss business, that is soldiering, in the mess. There was no such ban with the Helms, nor was it necessary. If any of us had talked about our day's duties, we would have sounded like housewives discussing which brand of polish did the best job on our silver, or else horsedealers nattering on about what someone's mount might do in the furlong.

The sole exception was a rather disheveled legate three years older than I, who seemed completely uninterested in the latest gossip or horse-breeding, did not drink, did not gamble, and seemed to have little interest in women. Instead he buried himself in history, mostly military, and in the few broadsheets specializing in the military.

He'd been eagerly and mistakenly drafted by the Helms because he was the top graduate at his lycee. They didn't find out until he reported that he'd achieved the position completely on ability in the field or classroom, with never a pin's notice mentioned about his appearance or failure to suck up to his superiors.

His name was Mercia Petre. Yes, that Petre, for the most part no different as a legate than when he held a tribune's baton not very long afterward.

I can't say we became friends—with one exception, I doubt if Petre ever had what conventional people call a friend. But I spent long nights in the shambles he called quarters, sipping tea, studying old battles, re-laying them out so the outcome might be different, and reading all we could find on the Border States, on Kallio, and even Maisir.

Part of me may have been bored cross-eyed by the dryness of the books, but this was a necessary part of my trade. I was never bored by Petre's company, although others were, since he had but one interest, and that was serving the war god Isa.

He was the only pleasure I found in that cantonment during those long, drear months with the Helms.

This situation is a favorite in the romances. It's a great tale, of a staid, pigheaded formation, and how a brave, stubborn young officer stands true for what he knows to be right, and in spite of hostility hammers his own small part of the unit into fighting order, and then is vindicated when war comes and they all ride out and do something terribly heroic.

Reality, however, was that if I'd tried to behave like that young officer I would have had my head handed to me, most likely on the silver salver the domina had his first brandy of the afternoon served on. I could not chance that.

Not after Captain of the Lower Half Banim Lanett and the rol match with the Lancers.

So I followed soldiering's oldest commandment: "Shut up and soldier, soldier!" I used the few hours allotted for Commander's Time to try to teach the men some tactical sense, but because we were never allowed out of the city to practice these tactics, nor was mere anywhere to leam city-fighting techniques, I fear my talks only provided the men a chance to learn that most soldierly of all skills—to sleep with your eyes open.

All I could do was wait for the year or so to pass until I was forgotten, and then attempt to transfer back to the Frontiers.

That, and explore the world beyond the barracks, beyond the regiment—the wonders of the City of Lights.

I have never thought of myself as a city man, nor do I especially enjoy a metropolis. But Nicias is a city to fall in love with.

Its most remarkable feature is responsible for its name. When the first men were created by Umar and sent down to this earth, before he withdrew into silence and let the world be ruled by Irisu and Saionji, they found a roaring pillar of flame, flame from a gas that poured from a spring in the rock. Centuries later, that fire was somehow extinguished, and the gas channeled into pipes that were first laid beside and men beneath the streets of the city.

When the fire was relit every house, from mansion to shack, and the streets themselves had and have free light that also provides a measure of heat. Nicias has more fires than other cities, but the citizens count that the price to be paid and especially venerate Shahriya. The supply of gas has never slackened, never run out. There is a legend * mat the day it does is the end of Numantia and perhaps the world itself.

It's easy to numb the mind with figures about Nicias—capital of Dara Province as well as of Numantia, sitting on the eastern edge of the Latane River's great delta, forty-five square miles, perhaps a million people, although I doubt if the bravest census taker has ever ventured into the towering, rickety slums of the eastern side or the evil streets of the northern docks mat jut into the Great Ocean, nor has anyone numbered the people of the streets who sleep where sundown catches mem, wrapped in their single garment.

There are half a hundred parks, from those no bigger than a city square that are owned and maintained by those living around it to the great expanses like Hyder Park or, to the north on the outskirts of the sprawling city, Manco Heath. There are at least twelve branches and who knows how many tributaries of the Latane River that twist through the city. Some of them, like the main navigable branch the ships use, are untamed. Others are channeled into stone banks like canals. Still others run underground, and are used to hurry the city's sewage to the sea.

I cannot conceive of anyone becoming tired of Nicias. Someone once said that a man could dine at a different restaurant every meal of his life and die before seeing mem all. I could cynically add he might die of surfeit or, remembering some of the street vendors I grabbed a hasty snack from, stomach poisoning, instead of old age, but I'll accept the saying as truth.

Nicias has everything, from cool, quiet streets where the rich have their townhouses to the poorest garrets; shopping areas from twisting alleys with the strangest tiny shops imaginable to stalls to market squares to great emporiums that will sell you anything from a needle to a funeral. But enough—if you wish to know more, purchase a guidebook or, better yet, journey to Nicias and experience its splendor for yourself.

Sometimes I went out on my own, sometimes, when I felt like chancing the riskier parts of the town, I asked Karjan if he

wished to accompany me. If he found no other pleasure, he could at least drink enough so I wouldn't be sneered at for my temperance, and he had an amazingly good bass voice that made him popular in the minstrel bars.

I called on Seer Tenedos, and found him honestly delighted to see me. That became a bit of a habit. If I didn't have night duty, which only fell once every three weeks in the Helms, and had no other plans, I would drop by the Lycee of Command, which was ten minutes distant, to see if he had any ideas for the evening.

He'd ask how my day went, of which the telling took but boring seconds, and then tell me of his. I assumed he had a Square of Silence cast around his office, since his comments on some of the high-ranking officers he was teaching, or on the staff of the lycee, were scathing.

He'd sacked the other two instructors in the Military Sorcery Department, one for senility, the other for incompetence, and replaced them with young, eager seers as convinced as he was that sorcery must become the third branch of the army, along with the infantry and cavalry.

At first it was the two of us, but in a few weeks there were other officers, students, younger captains of the Upper Half or dominas, clustering around. At this point, his dissection of his students ceased, obviously. Besides, his pupils were more interested in elaborations of his classroom lectures, accompanied as frequently as not by illustrations on a large sand-table he'd had installed.

I stayed well to the rear of the crowd, listening intently. I was fascinated. On the surface, it seemed all he was talking about was bygone battles, demonstrating how a skilled mage might have changed their outcome with a spell of darkness here, a weather spell there, and so forth.

But there was more to Seer Tenedos's speeches than just history, and it took me a while to realize it. I think that if I'd not known of his hatred for the Rule of Ten and his absolute conviction that Numantia must be ruled by a king or face doom, I might not have noticed. He'd slyly put in a dig about * those who live in the past being strangled by its dead hand in the future or, if one of the battles had occurred during the time of the Rule of Ten, how the commander on the ground was the man who saved the day, not the panicked babblers in the rear. Tenedos was building a corps of disciples to his philosophy. There was certainly no sign of his being rejected and cast into outer darkness. The Rule of Ten had erred badly in making this appointment, as he'd foreseen.

Since the students all out-ranked me, I was beginning to feel most out of place, when Tenedos announced a new schedule. He would only be available for extra sessions twice a week. The other nights he wished to himself.

"One of them at least," he said, ' promise you I'll spend with you, Damastes, assuming you're not tired of the company of a growling magician. I can feel myself getting stale in this damned office. I want to get out, in the streets, among the people."

It was well he made his plan firm, because he became a favorite of the lecture halls. One interesting thing about Nicians: They would rather go to a hall and listen to one man spiel his ideas or, better, two flail each other as incompetent, barren-minded baboons than visit a gallery or attend a concert.

A side benefit of being the season's pet philosopher was the number of women who wished to have a private interchange to, as one lovely said, "make sure I properly understand what you're saying." That person must have required considerable explanation, because when I saw Tenedos the next afternoon he was exhausted, and begged off our planned outing for the chance for some sleep.

But that was about the only time I saw him tired. He had vast wellsprings of energy, and never seemed to falter.

When we went out of an evening, there was no telling where we would go, nor whose company we would be in. Sometimes it was an invitation to a party that Tenedos had gotten, or, not infrequently, one that came to the

"Lion of Sulem Pass" as one broadsheet had called me, which Yonge never let me forget We were as likely to dine in the halls of the mighty

as in some dockside shanty that happened to have the best oysters in Nicias, or to sit listening to four stringed instruments in a hall as watch naked dancers prance around a single man with a guitar and a voice that could move the dead in a wineshop where we carefully sat with our backs to the wall.

Nicias was a beautiful city, but it was not a happy one. There was something wrong, something amiss. Rich people did not go about without an armed guard or two. The populace openly sneered at me wardens and, in the poorer sections where the men of the law went in squads, were as likely to hurl a cobble at their backs and run as not Soldiers were not respected, either, but were the subject of imprecations and sometimes, if the Nician was bold and the soldier drunk enough, waylaid, robbed, and stripped.

This isn't to say injustice was only on one hand. Every street comer held a shouting orator, as likely to be howling obscene stories of whose beds the Rule of Ten slept in as condemnation of the entire system. They were certainly harmless, even if their numbers were worrisome. But the wardens seemed to single out these blowhards as desperate enemies of the state, and smashed them into momentary silence with their truncheons. And the wardens believed that anyone arrested was automatically guilty, and deserved a merciless hiding on the way to prison.

The beauty of Nicias was there, but no one seemed to want to take care of it. The streets needed sweeping, the sidewalks were generally blocked with trash, and too many of the buildings, public as well as private, needed painting and upkeep.

I remembered what Tenedos had said as we rode through Sulem Pass the previous year: "I can feel the unrest in Nicias, in Dara. The people are without leaders, without direction, and they know it."

I, too, felt this tension, felt as if the city were a great, dry wheatfield, parched by drought, waiting only for a single man with a torch. And I was beginning to believe I rode the streets with that very man.

But very seldom did my thoughts follow those grim tracks.

Laish Tenedos was excellent company. Frequently when he went out he changed into mufti, since, as he said, "wizard's robes can be off-putting as often as they gain an advantage. I might advise you to follow the same practice."

Against regulations, I purchased civilian garb, and kept it in Tenedos's apartments, although I wore my uniform more often than not.

The two of us, sometimes accompanied by Karjan and Yonge, found ourselves in strange byways.

I remember...

... paying a boatman a few coppers to give us a tour of the sewers under the city, roaring along as if caught by rapids in his tiny boat, the curved overhead bricks dank and dripping, rats hissing at us from corners. Yonge got the boatman drunk and we almost lost ourselves for good before discovering an open grating to pry up and get our bearings.

... There was an evening that began quietly, a visit to a small tavern along the river where the first barrel of the famous sweet wine of Varan was available for tasting. Somehow tasting became drinking became guzzling and we ended up in a long snake dance down the riverbank, the Seer Tenedos, in full regalia, roaring drunk at its head, I just behind him drunk only on the laughter and singing, the wardens standing bewildered nearby, hardly stupid enough to club down a magician for being drunk and disorderly.

... We were at a formal dinner party. I was seated next to a pretty, if rather cold-looking, woman about ten years my senior who'd been introduced as the Marchioness Fenelon. Between courses we'd chatted of this and that—I was actually becoming able to make small talk. Then she turned to me, and I saw for the first time the pin she wore on her breast.

It was a solid gold casting of a long cord.

Time froze for me, and I remembered the cavern, another,

real, yellow cord of silk around my neck, and the murderous beauty named Palikao.

"What," I said, my voice as harsh as if I'd been reprimanding one of my men, "is that you're wearing?" -—*-

j - — ~^* Anam atthft nin. Then s sne suuicu, guuvui v»^.... „__ __ me, but her eyes moved away rapidly.