"Captain," Tenedos said, "has anyone ever suggested you're impertinent?"

"Frequently, sir. And they're always right. We'll report back to you as soon as possible."

Tenedos turned serious. "Please do that, regardless of the hour. Be most careful. I do not know what you might encounter."

"This is another trick of the police," Kutulu explained. "If you are following someone, someone who seems to have a regular route, and you lose him or he becomes suspicious, go to the last point you were able to track him, wait for his next appearance, then continue following."

We were hidden behind barrels on the very edge of a wharf. About twenty yards away was the end of the alley I'd followed Malebranche down to find nothing.

The night was quiet, no sound except the splash of small waves as the river flowed past behind and below us, and the occasional hoot of a ship's horn.

How much, I mused, of a soldier's time is spent waiting in perfect silence, from peacetime formations to wartime ambushes, yet no one ever considers it a part of his lot.

I heard muffled hoofbeats, and crouched lower.

A dark figure rode swiftly out of the alley, and I thought for a moment that it was about to ride straight off into the water. But the rider dismounted, knelt, and suddenly, noiselessly, part of the pier lifted, a hatch, and the rider, who must be Malebranche, led his horse down an unseen ramp. As rapidly as it had opened the trapdoor closed, and all was as before.

"Interesting," Kutulu said. "Shall we follow?"

It took a few minutes of close examination to find the round metal-lined socket in the wooden pier. It was made to accommodate some sort of tool, which we did not have, but I pried carefully with the haft of my dagger and suddenly the portal yawned open.

Kutulu took a tiny dark lantern from his cloak, lit it, and opened one shutter enough to illuminate the ramp. I spotted the closing lever not far along. He latched the shutter and we crept down the incline, closing the hatch, and darkness closed around us.

I started onward, but Kutulu feh my movement, and held me still. I obeyed. I thought my eyes were already night-familiar, and we would be forced to move by feel, but in a few moments realized they weren't. We weren't in total blackness, but there was enough light from the end of the tunnel to see dimly.

Kutulu tugged me onward. I made sure my knife was loose in its sheath and we went down the tunnel.

About twenty yards along, we found an alcove, and here the rider's horse was tethered. The tunnel leveled, and turned, away from the river, back under the hill.

I wondered how the conspirators had been able to dig such an elaborate work without being seen, but when I brushed against the tunnel's walls, which were heavily nitered brick, I realized they'd merely happened on it.

Perhaps this had been a smuggler or pirate's lair in the distant past, abandoned or forgotten.

I heard a rat chitter, then we came around a curve, and saw light. At the same time, we heard a voice booming, for all the world like that of a priest in a temple.

The tunnel mouth was a low arch, and I saw the outline of a figure, a man with a sword in one hand. But his back was turned to us, and he was intent on whatever was going on in the chamber inside.

I looked at Kutulu, and he gestured me back around the bend.

"So there's more than one entrance," he whispered. "That isn't Malebranche's voice, so whoever's speaking must have come in some other way. Either that, or people live down here. I think we should see more." I was impressed with the little man. There was not the slightest sign of fear in his voice.

"Now," he went on calmly, "I think a bit of your soldierly skills are needed. Can you take out that guard without raising the alarm?"

I thought so, and also thought that Kutulu was talking too much. I touched my finger to my lips, pointed to the ground— stay here. Stay silent. I considered various possibilities, then crept around the corner. I held close to the wall, and moved forward. I was relatively unworried. Unless I stumbled over something, there would be no way me sentry could be alert-ed—he would be night-blind and unable to see me.

I kept my eyes on the cobbles in front of me, and never looked directly at the man in front of me. I refuse to accept any senses beyond the normal, except those seers might develop, but it's a fact that if you stare at the back of someone's head long and hard enough, he will turn.

I'd thought of taking him down with my knife, but in spite of my assurances to Kutulu I was not really an artist with the small blade. The leaded gloves were a better solution. A few feet from the guard I went into a crouch, then went forward, not fast, but very smoothly, rising to my full height, and smashing the back of my fisted hand against his neck. His body contorted, I grabbed his sword before it could fall and clatter on the cobbles, and I eased him to the ground. I don't know if he was dead, but if he was not he'd be out for a very long time and very sick if he came to.

I went back to Kutulu, and we slipped to the mouth of the tunnel.

The chamber inside was rectangular, fairly large, with an arching brick roof. I saw two other entrances, both with large wooden doors. It did, indeed, resemble a temple, since there were benches from front to back and a low dais in the front.

The man speaking did have the rolling, sonorous speech of a priest, but he certainly didn't look imposing.

Rather, he looked like the jolly fat grover in the market, complete with a small fringe of a beard.

And his words were anything but religious:

"... but it isn't the gold which we must be thinking of at this most important time, Brother."

There were about sixty men and women sitting on the benches, all cleanly dressed and sober-appearing, paying no attention to anything but the speaker. Among them I saw the Marchioness Fenelon and some other noblemen and -women I'd seen around Nicias. I spotted Count—or rather former Count—Komroff, whom I'd seen holding forth the evening I first met Mardn. But nobles were in the minority—most of the people in the audience were poor or working class in their desperately scrubbed best outfits.

I saw Kutulu's head swiveling from man to woman to man, creating new entries for his file.

The man whom the priest, for so I kept thinking him to be, had been addressing frowned, not satisfied.

"I know, Brother. But when a loyal Sister tells me she must have food for her babies, it's hard to tell her not to reap the spoils she's entitled, the spoils Thak promised us."

A man sitting with his back to me rose, and I recognized Malebranche.

"Sir... since I'm not a member of your order, I cannot call you Brother... let me repeat what I've said before.

My master has more than enough gold to provide for all."

Son of a bitch! Quite suddenly it was obvious why Elias Malebranche had been in Sayana. It wasn't merely to stir up trouble and attempt to make an alliance with Achim Baber Fergana, but also to work with the Tovieti. Now, from what Malebranche was saying, the Kallian was bankrolling them as well. It was apparent we'd come on the Inner council, or whatever they called it, of the stranglers.

Kutulu's eyes widened briefly, probably as much surprise as the lawman could show.

The fat "priest" nodded.

"Thank you, sir. Brother, tell that woman in your band what our friend said, and tell her also to have faith in our coming victory. We cannot name who our friend's master is, although I'm sure many of you know. Also tell your woman why we must not linger over our kills.

"We have the wardens in a frenzy, the commoners quaking, nobility fleeing their estates for safe havens that don't exist, and even the Rule of Ten must be beginning to tremble. Think what it must be, when you do not know your enemy, nor where die silken cord may come from at any time, day or night, but know it is coming, as inexorably as the Wheel turns.

"Even the old gray gods must be shuddering at the new day we are about to bring.

"The minute one of us is caught, a bit of the mystery, the fear, the darkness that is the blanket we love, vanishes.

"Thak is content; Thak has his blood and a chance to play with the souls of those we kill before they return to the Wheel. Our day will be here very soon."

There was a murmur of pleasure. A woman stood. "Brother, p'rhaps everything you're sayin' is true. But why're we listenin' to this man, this nobleman, one of the bastards we've given our lives to send into th' Darkness? He ain't joinin' us, he's made that clear. But we're willin' to take his gold. What's his stake? What's his master's stake?

"An' Brother, I don't need any fine words. I want answers." "You'll find out when the time comes,"

Malebranche snarled. "Until then, you've no right to ask my business."

"Stop!" The fat man snapped, and I heard raw power in his tone. "Never address any of us in such a tone again, or be prepared to face our wrath. She has all the right to speak she wishes, sir. Let me remind you that the Sister is right. We are dedicated to bringing you, and all you now represent, down.

"Your master is helping us assist him in bringing down the Rule of Ten. Very well, very good. We are not fools, so we know he intends to return to the old days and old ways and sit the throne as king of all Numantia.

* "That may happen, that may not happen. Thak has allowed us to work together thus far. But do not ever think we are your servants. If your master reneges on his promises to create a society of equals, to distribute the lands, the gold, and the women of the rich pigs of Dara among us... our war can always continue, sir.

"Our war can continue until the Wheel is choked with the corpses of those who do not follow Thak, and yours may well be one of them! Be warned, sir, and be aware, as should your master, that our alliance is but of the moment, and can be shattered with a single word or a single dream sent by Thak, who even now sits just Beyond, watching all we say and do."

We'd heard enough. We stole back into darkness. I pulled at the lever and the hatch rose, and we went out into the clean night Neither Kutulu nor I said a word*—this vast conspiracy, stretching from Kallio to the Border States to Nicias itself, was too enormous, and shocked us both to our cores. Seer Tenedos must learn what was going on and then plans could be made.

We went up the alleyway at a fast walk, still worried that there might be some outside sentries. I could not believe the arrogance of the Tovieti in holding a meeting with no more than one guard, but then realized they truly did believe they owned the night, and were comfortable in its blanket We were halfway up the alley when the ground shook and I heard a scraping, grating roar—a tremblor! But when I turned and looked back the river was undisturbed, nor did any building sway.

The street itself was turning, cobbles being churned away, a ridge snaking toward us as if some enormous, not-yet-visible mole were tunneling toward us, moving faster than a man could run, or a horse could trot!

We ran for our lives, out of the alley and onto the street.

But that was no sanctuary. The unseen digger raced on us, and then the stones of the street rained away and a dark, slime-gleaming shape reared out of the ground.

d not need sentries Thak had his own minions posted.

NINETEEN The Collapse The demon struck at Kutulu, and he tried to duck away, I but was too slow, and a tentacle had him by the ankle. Yet he did not scream, or panic, but somehow pulled his knife, slashed at the tentacle, and fell free.

Again came that scraping roar, and the monster's mouth was reaching for me. I hurled my own knife, a truly worthless defense, and it pinwheeled end for end, bouncing harmlessly off the creature's hide. The tentacles swept out, and I rolled underneath mem, kept moving while my fingers found that tiny bottle. I yanked the stopper free with my teeth, spat inside, then tossed the bottle at the demon.

There was a flash of light mat nearly bunded me, than a howl of rage as Tenedos's captive exploded to its full size.

Demon-roar, monster-growl, and I dimly heard shouts from the houses around us as people awoke. The demon's head snaked out, and took on the creature, then Thak's guardian bellowed pain as its jaws closed on spikes and the beast's tail swung and its mace smashed into the monster's slimy sides. It rolled, still in the demon's jaws, bent its head, and, snarling like a pack of lions over a kill, ripped and tore at the demon with its own fangs. The two nightmares, each bund in its own rage, rolled and ripped at each other, mere humans forgotten for the moment K "The water!" I shouted, and Kutulu stumbled to his feet and we went back down that alley, running across the pier as the trapdoor yawned open. I did not look to see who was coming out, but flat-dove straight out into darkness. I hit the water cleanly, surfaced, and began swimming away.

I heard a shout for help. Kutulu! "I... I can't swim!" I saw floundering arms above the dark water, and swam for them as they went under, then had him. Kutulu clutched at me, and I banged the heel of my hand into his forehead to stun him, pulled away, dove under, and came up behind him.

I had his chin in my arm, his groping, panicked arms flailing without effect, and was swimming hard, a strong side-stroke, once more.

I let the current carry us down toward the waiting sea. Kutulu went limp, and I wondered if he was drowning.

I saw a dark bulk, swam toward it, and reached a drifting log, uprooted somewhere far south in the uplands and now on the final stages of its journey to the sea. I pulled Kutulu across it, and then lifted myself aboard our rescuing raft.

The warden started coughing, and I thumped his back. He vomited water twice, then gasped for air. His breathing became normal after a while.

"Thank you," he managed. "Now you are my friend, Damastes."

"The hells with it," I said. "You would have done the same for me if you were a swimmer."

He thought, seriously. "Yes," he said. "Yes, you're right. I would have." He looked about him. "Now what shall we do?"

"Since I've no plans to go avoyaging on this somewhat uncertain craft, we'll be swimming again, as soon as I see something to swim for."

A few seconds later I saw a long pier jutting toward us. The current swept us close, and when we were a few yards away I took Kutulu in the rescuer's hold, and we abandoned ship. There was a rickety ladder that extended down into the water, and we made our way up it.

We were in the worst part of Nicias, a part of the city where

the wardens patrolled in squads, so, once Kutulu had bis bearings, we went directly to the nearest warden's post and he ordered a team to escort us out of the area. They looked curiously at our sodden clothes, and wanted to ask questions, but Kutulu told them nothing. Thank several gods my boil had come unstuck during the swim and the spray-on smell had been washed away, so I wasn't as disreputable as before.

As to what happened to Thak's demon, and Tenedos's ani-munculi, I have no idea and less curiosity, other than that I heard no reports of monsters abroad the next day. I hope they dragged each other down into some inescapable dark hell.

We reached Tenedos's apartments only to find them deserted, even though it was only a few hours before dawn.

"Could he have gone to see Rasenna?" I wondered, men realized my question was foolish—he'd promised to wait, and he was a man of his word. We decided to do the same.

While we waited, we used Tenedos's bath to wash and, in my case, change, since I'd been keeping a couple of sets of somewhat forbidden civilian clothes at his place. Kutulu toweled himself off and started to pull on his wet clothes again.

"If the seer were here," I said, "it'd be a simple matter for him to cast some sort of clothes-line spell and they'd be dry as toast." I went to one of Tenedos's closets, and hunted through it until I found a dark set of pants and overshirt I thought suited the warden. "Put these on," I said and tossed them to Kutulu.

"But—" Kutulu looked appalled. The warden had the worst case of hero worship I'd ever seen. It would be some incredible breach of his private ethics to dream of touching, let alone wearing without permission, something of his idol's. But I did not josh him about the matter.

"Don't be absurd," I said. "He'd tell you the same thing if he were here. You'll probably have to find a belt and punch a new hole in it. Our esteemed sorcerer is a bit more fond of the dining table than you."

* Reluctantly, Kutulu obeyed. In the kitchen I found canisters with tea leaves, and made hot drinks for us, although I wondered if I'd gotten the wrong container and created a concoction to change us into frogs or something.

Two hours before dawn, an angry and worried Tenedos returned.

"My apologies," he said. "But I was summoned not an hour after you left by the Rule of Ten. Or, perhaps, I should now call them the Rule of Nine. Farel and his mistress were found dead late yesterday afternoon. Strangled by the Tovieti."

"Shit!" I said. I couldn't remember when one of the Rule of Ten had died by anything other than sickness, accident, or old age, let alone murder.

"Naturally, the Rule of Ten wanted to hear, immediately, everything that I knew about the stranglers, as if they'd paid no attention when we testified last year. Incidentally, the Nician Council sat in on the meeting, and provided leadership fully as thrilling and competent.

"Now, did you two uncover anything as shattering?"

"We did," I said. "I'll let Kutulu tell it, since he's experienced at precise reporting than I am."

Kutulu told Tenedos exactly what had occurred, adding nothing, leaving nothing out. He made no judgments, but provided a perfect image of events. He even told Tenedos, unemotionally, as if it had happened to someone else, how he'd panicked in the water. He was about to continue when Tenedos held up his hand.

"Enough, my friend. Does your tale include anything more of either the monsters or the Tovieti?"

"No, sir."

Tenedos nodded, and Kutulu obediently said no more. He got up and paced back and forth for a while.

"I will return to the Rule of Ten, and inform them of what happened," he said. "But I do not think it will make a difference."

"What?" I was incredulous.

"Let me repeat what they said after I finished telling them more

what we know of the Tovieti. They admitted the Tovieti are probably a threat. But we have a very efficient force of wardens, who can deal with the situation. Perhaps we should consider giving them some emergency powers."

It was Kutulu's turn for surprise.

"May I interrupt, Seer? How can they think that? We've yet to take one single Tovieti to prison. But what powers are they speaking of?"

"Setting up teams of crack officers to go after the menace, which of course they believe is quartered in the slums where our foreign workers live. No true Nician would listen to such garbage, or so Farel's ex-hamess-mate Rask said. A magistrate to accompany the teams, so the proper orders can be issued on the spot for searching any house or business immediately.

"The Tovieti are to be added to the list of forbidden organizations.

"Scopas suggested that mere membership in the organization should be cause for the death penalty. But since they don't appear to have convenient tattoos, uniforms, nor membership tokens, how this would be proven went unmentioned. At any rate, the measure went undiscussed and therefore was forgotten. No doubt too radical.

"Those were the only specifics. But, my good Kutulu, you can rest assured the Rule of Ten hold you wardens in the highest esteem."

Kutulu's lips worked.

"You may say anything you wish here," Tenedos said. "Even if it borders on the treasonous."

"This is nothing! They can't just sit there and wait for the threat to vanish! Chardin Sher will be marching into Nicias and they'll still be talking. Or else all of us will be lying dead with silk nooses cutting into our gullets! Those men," the little warden spat, "are fools! Fools and worse!"

"Such is what I've been saying for some years now," Tenedos said.

"What else?' I wanted to know. "What about the army? We heard no details about the Tovieti's future plans, but I assume

they'll be escalating their murder campaign. Are we, too, going to just sit with our thumbs in our bums?"

"The army is to be ordered to full alertness, although the Rule of Ten did not think it necessary to declare martial law.

"All mention of this matter is to be kept from the public, so there'll be nothing in the broadsheets. Instead, rumor will be permitted to run riot.

"Some other, smaller things, might amuse you. "I was appointed to a special position, privy adviser to the Rule on the Present Emergency. I was ordered to use all of the magical powers I have to determine whether there is sorcery behind this organization."

"What the hells do they think Thak is? A wisp of sewer gas?"

"I'm not sure they believe Thak even exists." "What was your response, sir?" Kutulu said. I could see how angry he was, and how hard he was trying to hold it back. "Like you, I lost my temper. I'm afraid I shouted at this point that we don't need sorcery, we need order.

"Again, I was told that the wardens could handle the matter. "After all, Nicians will instinctively obey the law. There is no cause for panic." Tenedos shook his head sorrowfully. "Now you see why I'm not at all convinced reporting the small matter of a country-wide conspiracy bankrolled by one of their own subrulers would matter a beggar's fart?" "So what do we do?" I asked.

Tenedos started to say something flippant, then turned serious. "First, we must guard ourselves carefully, and ensure we aren't the next victims of the Tovieti. If Thak knows of us, and of course he does, then he'll communicate that knowledge to the Tovieti leaders.

"I'd assume that means we'll be at the top of their murder list.

"Second, try to ensure that anyone either of you holds close finds a place of safety. I'm not sure what that might be, but suggest somewhere beyond the city, perhaps even outside Dara."

f,

"I've no such person," Kutulu said, and there wasn't even a touch of regret in his voice.

I was wondering how I'd tell Maran, and how she would convince her husband.

"The final thing I'd suggest is keep a war bag packed and your weapons handy. Be ready for anything.

Anything at all."

Tenedos got up and went to the sideboard and unstoppered a brandy decanter. Then he looked out the window at the lightening sky.

"No. I'm afraid that's another weakness to be set aside until better times," and he restoppered the container.

"That's all, gentlemen." We got up to go.

"Thank you," Tenedos said. "You've not only proven yourselves worthy servants of mine, but Numantians of the most noble sort."

His words meant more than a medal.

Bugles were sounding the troops awake as I rode into the cantonment. I shouted down a lance, threw Lucan's reins to him, and told him to take my horse to the stables and feed and water him.

I ran for my quarters, and hastily changed into uniform in time to be at the head of my troop for the reveille formation.

After roll was taken, the day's orders given out by Captain Lardier, and Domina Lehar had taken the salute and dismissed us for breakfast, the adjutant called my name. I marched up, and saluted him. He handed me a small envelope.

"This was delivered late last night to the officer of the watch, with a request it be given to you personally.

Since you weren't to be found in the cantonment, he gave it to me when I relieved him this morning."

I saluted him once more and walked off.

Inside the envelope was a second one, this one with my name on it. The handwriting was Maran's. Inside that, a brief note:

* My dearest I wish I could tell you this in person, for it might give me a chance to hold you and to feel you in me. But my husband came to me only this noon, and told me that due to the present unsettlements, he feels it best if we leave Nicias until the situation clears.

We will be sailing aboard his yacht this morning, before dawn. He told me we 'II be cruising in the Outer Islands and off the Seer's home island of Palmeras for at least a month, most likely longer.

I am so sorry, and wish that you could take me in your arms and make me stop crying. But I shall be brave, and think of you every minute of every hour.

O My Damastes, you cannot know how much I love you and want to be with you, even though the times am dangerous.

Be good, be well, and dream of me as I shall dream of you.

I love you Maran Maran would not have been pleased; the first feeling that came was overwhelming relief.

She was out of the line of fire. Yes, I'd dream of her, and yes I'd think of her, when duty did not demand full attention.

But I'd have few spare minutes in the near future.

I changed into fatigue uniform, went to the stables, and was currying Lucan when the gong clanged alarm across the parade ground. Like everyone else, I dropped what I was doing, as the emergency alert sent me, and everyone else in the Helms, scurrying for our battle gear.

The standby troop should have been formed up and ready to ride out in ten minutes, the rest of the regiment in an hour.

I was ready in that time, as was Lance Karjan, but we were two of a handful.

I heard shouts, curses, and saw confusion as men went here, there, and everywhere looking for their fighting gear, which should have been instantly at hand but instead was "turned in to Supply for fixing," "loaned to a Mend a mine, I think," "I dunno, sir," "Guess it don't fit right," "th"

straps broke an' th' saddler never give it back t' me," "I was never issued that item, sir." Battle garb had been ignored for polished leather and shiny brass.

It was two and a half hours before the Golden Helms of Nicias were in formation.

Perhaps if we'd ridden out when we should have the catastrophe wouldn't have happened. But I doubt it.

There'd been a brawl in Chicherin, one of the city's poorer districts, that began when three shops on a single street simultaneously doubled their price for flour. As it turned out, the three shop owners had formed a syndicate to prevent competition. There'd been an argument with some outraged customers that became pushing and shoving, and then blows were exchanged.

Someone pulled a knife and there was a body in the street. Moments later, rocks pelted one of the shop owners and he, too, went down. His shop was looted, and the mob had the scent.

They milled about, then decided to punish the other two shops as well. In one the owner fought back with a spear and was killed, but both stores were ripped apart.

The lunacy spread to other streets and other stores that hadn't the slightest involvement, until half the district was a raging madhouse.

At that point someone in authority panicked and sent for the army.

This was not the proper response. Squads of wardens should have moved into the district, isolated the ringleaders, and arrested them. If that couldn't have been done, solid walls of law officers should have gone down the streets and by a combination of fear and brute force the mob would have been quelled in this early stage.

Instead the wardens in the area were dispatched in ones and twos. A few of them were attacked, others fled, and the mob had control.

The army should have been used only to seal Chicherin off, and wardens used to calm the district. Armed soldiers in the streets signify to everyone, passersby as well as madmen, that order has broken down and the state itself feels threatened.

But someone overreacted at some headquarters. Whether this was deliberate or not, I do not know. Later it was claimed the Tovieti were responsible for the events, which I doubt, but if there were any of the stranglers involved I would believe it to be that unknown official.

Also, the Golden Helms should not have been the unit called out, for several reasons. Its incompetence at soldiering can be ignored, since no one was aware of that until far too late. But cavalry should not be sent into crowded streets against massed civilians. Not only can panic erupt, and cause more deaths than the worst riot, but it's entirely too easy to maim a horse or pull a rider out of his saddle. Foot soldiers should have been used instead, or else added as reinforcement to our horsemen, but that did not happen.

Instead, C Troop, under the command of Captain Abercorn, was sent in. They weren't even given proper weapons, but rode in with lances held high and their sabers sheathed. The point column was led by Legate Nexo.

They rode into a square filled with shouting Nicians. About half the civilians were drunk on wine, the other on the rage they not incorrectly felt about the mismanagement of politicians. The mob slowly formed an idea: They wanted to meet with someone from the Nician Council, to meet immediately, and air their grievances. They were hungry, they were destitute, their children were in rags, and it was time the city helped them. All of their plaints were certainly true.

The square had only three entrances. One of them had been barricaded by the mob against the wardens, the second was very narrow, and Legate Nexo's column blocked the last.

The highest-ranking survivor, a very junior lance-major, said Captain Abercorn had been working his way to the head of the column when Legate Nexo took it upon himself to proclaim that the gathering was illegal, forbidden by the Rule of Ten, and the people in the square were ordered to disperse immediately or face the wrath of the Golden Helms. Why Captain Abercorn wasn't at the front of his troop, and why the legate, even though he was the next-highest-ranking officer, chose to usurp authority, is unknown. I believe that Nexo, an arrogant and foolish man from a very wealthy family, was appalled that working swine—peasants—would dare demand anything from their superiors, and should have fallen on their knees or at least stood respectfully out of the way when the famous Golden Helms appeared.

Suddenly the front ranks of the mob wanted to get out of the way of the solid line of cavalry, and a shouting struggle began. But there were other, braver men in the throng, and rocks and filth pelted the soldiery.

That was enough for Legate Nexo. He ordered lances lowered and the Helms to attack at the walk.

That was almost the last coherent observation the lance-major was able to make. No sooner had Nexo cried out his orders than a rock, which the lance-major thought sling-launched, caught him below the rim of our famous helmet, crushing his face and probably killing him instantly.

The mob screamed triumph. Well-trained troops would have paid no mind to the loss of their officer, but would have automatically obeyed his last command. But the Helms were anything but well trained, and hesitated.

In that fatal moment the Helms were struck hard. Missiles rained, some sling-fired, some thrown hard and accurately. People appeared on the roofs and in the upper stories of the tenements, carrying cobblestones, bricks, anything heavy, and a rain of death came down, sending soldiers spinning from their mounts, their horses rearing crazily, lashing out in their own pain and rage.

Instead of the mob breaking, the Helms broke, turned their horses, and kicked them into a gallop, back the way they'd come, straight into the other three columns, and as the chaos spread the mob charged.

* Sometime during this, Captain Abercorn was pulled from his horse and beaten nearly to death. Two years later, he was discharged from hospital a broken cripple, with no memory of anything that happened that day.

There were men in mat rabble who knew what they were doing—or possibly had been trained by the Tovieti. Men with knives darted close to horses, cutting hamstrings, slicing into bellies, slashing at animals' throats, and finishing their riders when they came off.

The lance-major who told the story had been knocked from his horse by a well-thrown bottle that shattered and took out an eye. He'd had sense enough to roll into an open doorway and play dead in his gore until the melee was over.

C Troop would almost certainly have been wiped out to the last man if someone hadn't "seen" army reinforcements coming from behind, the single other open street in the square, and screamed a warning. Now it was the mob's turn to panic, and in an instant it was no more than hundreds of fear-crazed commoners, each looking to save his own skin. The irony is there were no reinforcements—whoever'd called for the Helms hadn't thought that more than a single column was needed, and our own commanders didn't think of providing backup. By the time word of the disaster came to our cantonment, it was all over, and there was nothing for me, and the others, to do but rage impotently.

Of the men who rode out of the Golden Helms' barracks that morning, thirty-two returned. Forty-six were dead or dying, and forty-one others were wounded. And this was just the beginning.

The regiment exploded in blind wrath, wanting to ride into Chicherin and kill everyone in sight. Then came fear, as the men thought an entire city had turned against its favorite gilded toy, the Golden Helms. That fear was almost paralytic. We had five men go absent, which was a rarity. Several legates began talking about transferring to other, more distant posts, or perhaps applying for long leave with their families.

Domina Lehar and too many of the other officers seemed helpless, not sure what should be done.

I requested an audience with the domina, even before the funerals of the men of C Troop, and as politely as I could, which was not very, reminded him that I'd seen real fighting on the Frontiers, as had Lance Karjan and a sprinkling of others. I told him I had personal knowledge that this was not an isolated incident, but he could expect more and most nicely bloodier things to happen.

He looked haplessly about his office, found no suggestions in the statues, plaques, and awards various dignitaries had sent the Golden Helms for dazzling them on parade, and said perhaps I was right.

I should immediately begin drawing up a training program for the Helms. He'd approve it instantly, and we could begin schooling the men in the practical aspects of soldiery.

"Sir," I said. "Can't we just start teaching? Does everything have to be on paper before it's done?" I might as well have suggested we all grow wings and become cavalry of the sky. I saluted, and was about to leave.

"Please hurry," the domina said. "We'll need your expertise soon, I know. And one other thing. That lance you named... Kirgle or Kurtile?"

"Karjan, sir."

"Since he's seen fighting, I want him promoted. Make him a lance-major. No. I want him listened to. Troop guide."

That was Domina Lehar's idea of desperate action.

I told Karjan about his sudden rise in fortune, and he refused to believe me. I showed him the written order from Domina Lehar, and his face clouded in anger.

"I turned down th' rank slashes when y' offered 'em back in Sayana, sir, an' there's naught that's happened t'change my mind."

"You don't have a choice this time, Karjan. The domina spoke, and by the lance of Isa you'll sew the damned slashes on!"

'Til not!"

* I was losing my temper; one of the few competent men I knew was refusing promotion, while all these morons about me were clamoring for greater and greater rank, even though the idea of actual responsibility horrified them.

"You shall!"

Karjan glowered at me and I back. He was the first to look away.

"Ver' well. I'll wear 'em, sir. But I give you m'word I'll go on a bender th' first day we're off an' wreak enough havoc t' lose 'em for good an' all."

"The hells you will!" I bellowed, and a vase on the table beside me tumbled and shattered. Karjan looked stubborn.

"Let me put it like this. You will sew on the badges of rank, showing proper respect for the army you joined. You will do your duty as a senior warrant until I tell you otherwise. You will not go on any drunk and you will certainly not tear up any bars, is that clear?

"You won't for one reason. Because if you do not obey my orders, obey them just as I've told you, I will take you out behind these barracks and only one of us will walk back. I promise you two other things: The one who stays on the ground shall not be me, and you shall certainly need a good time in the hospital before you rejoin the troop. And the minute you're healed we'll go back out and I'll hammer your sorry fool ass again!"

Karjan stared at me, and a look of grudging admiration spread.

"I b'lieve you would do just that. An' I b'lieve you might win."

"Sir."

"Sir."

"Now go get your gods-damned sewing kit out and stop bothering me, Troop Guide. I have a stupid damned training schedule to write!"

But I got no work done on it mat day.

The orderly messenger knocked on my office door an hour later. I bade him enter, and he told me, eyes wide in awe, that f,

with Domina Lehar's compliments, I was to report to the Palace of War in full uniform, two hours hence.

I thought of asking why, but of course the boy, just a fresh recruit, would not have known. I, too, was shocked. The Palace of War was the headquarters for the entire Numantian Army.

"Thank the domina, and I of course shall obey," I said formally. The messenger started to leave.

"Wait. Did the domina tell you who I was to report to?" "Oh. Yessir. Sorry, sir. I was... too excited, sir."

"Dammit, lad, the only thing that'll keep you alive in war is repeating your orders just as they're given. Now, tell me die rest of what the domina said."

The boy gulped and told me I was to report directly to General of the Armies Urso Protogenes.

Then it was my turn to goggle. What could he want from a lowly captain?

I couldn't even imagine, but I had less than two hours. I shouted for Troop Guide Karjan to get his ass back in here and help me.

I was at a complete loss.

Not quite two hours later, in dress uniform with an armband of black, which all men of the Golden Helms were wearing after Chicherin, I was ushered into the antechamber of General Protogenes's office.

Waiting for me was Seer Tenedos, which provided a likely explanation as to why I had been summoned. I'd expected the room to be filled with waiting officers, but Tenedos and I were the only occupants, other than an aide who greeted us, asked if we wished anything to drink, then returned to his work.

Tenedos's dress surprised me. I would have expected him to wear elaborate robes such as most seers put on for formal occasions. Instead, he wore breeches and a tunic of light gray, and knee-boots, and a cloak in darker gray with a red silk lining lay on a chair beside him.

"I asked for you to assist me," Tenedos said, "because I cer-

* tainly didn't wish to offend someone as important as the general, and thought someone more familiar with military matters such as yourself would keep me from making any mistakes." He spoke in a quiet tone, but one that could be overheard by the aide, and I knew he was lying. Tenedos wanted me there for some other reason, and I set my mind to trying to puzzle it out But I didn't have the time, because precisely at the time ordered the aide rose and conducted us into General Protogenes's office.

It was exactly what you would expect a long-serving soldier, commander of the armies, a man of great honor, to have. The room was large, with bookcases full of military books. There were maps, swords, countless mementos of battle hanging on the walls. General Protogenes's desk was to one side, and it was small and bare, little more than an officer's field table, clearly showing that this room was occupied by a man of action.

The chamber was well illuminated by a glass dome in the ceiling, and directly under it was a long conference table. Sitting at its head were two generals: Protogenes and Rechin Turbery. This was to be a very important meeting indeed. Turbery held the title of commander of the Nician Army District, which meant he was the second most important man in our army.

Tenedos bowed respectfully, and I saluted and the generals got to their feet.

"Seer Tenedos," General Protogenes's voice rumbled, "I am delighted you could find the time." He gazed at me. "And this is the captain your note said we'd derive great benefits from meeting, eh?"

"I am pleased to meet the both of you," General Turbery said simply, and reseated himself, his eyes coldly measuring us.

General Protogenes was not only the most senior officer in army, but he may have been the most beloved.

He returned that love wholeheartedly, always finding time for the complaints of the lowliest soldier. In that love and in his deep affection for Nicias would be his doom. He was a big man, only an inch shorter than I am, but far heavier. His face was cheerily reddened, showing that he appreciated good living and saw no reason others shouldn't do the same.

He was an example to all soldiers, in that he'd come from Wakhijr, a poor desert state, a herder's son with no friends and less money. He'd risen steadily through the ranks and then been given a field commission, quite a rarity at the time. Pro-togenes was not only a good, brave soldier, but also a lucky one. He was wounded many times, never badly, but that was not what made him lucky. Most heroes go unnoticed, with no one of proper rank to witness their bravery. Not so with Proto-genes. Without his ever seeking favor, glory and recognition always came.

He had served in every state of Numantia, in all of its skirmishes and little wars, from the Border States to fighting pirates in the Outer Islands to quelling savages in the mountainous jungles of the East.

His rise to the top had been accelerated when he met Rechin Turbery, after he'd taken over a regiment in the Border States. Protogenes would have been the first to admit he was no cunning tactician—once an enemy was found, he'd have the bugles sound the charge and it was be up and at them with a cheer and the sword, lads.

Turbery was more cunning, and looked it, never attacking a position frontally, not taking heavy casualties when he could outflank or outmaneuver the enemy and bring his troops home safely. He was in his late forties, some twenty years younger than Protogenes. He was slender, balding, sharp-faced, and his gaze seemed to expose your every secret.

The two had made a perfect team, and became fast friends. When Protogenes was promoted to the army's staff, Turbery was promoted to domina and given a regiment of his own on the border between KaUio and Dara. He achieved fame not only for keeping the peace between our two states, but also for leading daring raids against the hill bandits. It was well known

and admired by officers that he seemed always to know, and have the correct response, when these

"bandits" were mere ruffians, and when they were disguised members of the Kallian Army, who delighted in probing the army they were supposedly a part of to find its weaknesses.

When Protogenes was chosen to head the army, it was quite natural that he'd call for Turbery to join him.

"I asked you here," Protogenes said, "because of this damnable trouble. I'm afraid I wasn't able to attend the Rule of Ten's hearings on these Tovieti. My sincere apologies.

"Would it be possible for you to briefly summarize what you told them? And perhaps the captain could add anything you might have overlooked?"

"I would be delighted," Tenedos said, and began talking. After a few moments, I noted that the two generals didn't seem to be paying close attention to what Tenedos was saying. It was as if they already knew what he was telling them. If so, why were we here? I determined to watch my words very closely.

To the broadsheets Tenedos might have glorified our exploits, but now he briefly and exactly summarized the physical facts of what had happened in Sayana and, the week before, along the docks of Nicias. I noticed he did not mention Kutulu by name, but merely referred to him as a responsible officer of the wardens. He finished, and asked if I had anything to add. I said I did not, that he'd done a complete job, and clamped my mouth shut, waiting for the real reason we were here.

It came in seconds, from General Turbery.

"What we are about to discuss must be held under the rose. If that condition is not acceptable, Seer, Captain, then our business is finished. Frankly, the only reason we considered this meeting is because of how highly certain well-thought-of senior officers, who've been impressed by the job you're doing at the lycee, speak of your tact, integrity, and perception."

I looked at Tenedos for guidance. He nodded, and I sat

back. "I think I can speak for Captain a Cimabue as well as myself," he said. "You have our vows, on any god you wish, that what is said here will not be repeated until you give us leave."

The two generals exchanged glances, as if reluctant to begin. Turbery stood after a moment, and began pacing back and forth.

"Our leaders, the Rule of Ten," he began, "seem to feel that this ... trouble, will be swiftly ended, and require no more action than what they've already ordered.

"I hope they are right, as does General Protogenes." "Of course," the older man growled. "Damned if anyone wants to think his masters aren't on top of it"

"But I'm of the opinion they might have all their arrows in a single quiver," Turbery went on. "You've given us the facts, sir. Now I ask for your opinion, and your honest assessment of the threat."

Tenedos took a deep breath.

"Very well, and I know I am going to shock you. But as you said, this meeting is under the rose, and I would wish you to respect that condition as well.

"Briefly, the Tovieti are but a symptom of what's going on. Our country is near collapse, our people floundering around without guidance, without direction. The Rule of Ten are not ruling wisely nor well, and as they stumble about they are sucking all the other institutions of Numantia into the morass with them."

"Harsh words, sir."

"Harsh words, yes. But these are harsh days, and the time is well past for dancing hearts and flowers around a nasty subject," Tenedos retorted.

"Go on," Turbery said, listening intently. General Protogenes looked most uncomfortable.

"Add to this the Tovieti, who are being financed by Chardin Sher. I don't know what other mischiefs he's been causing, but I assume that his agents are causing as much trouble as possible throughout Numantia."

* "Like father, like son," the old man rumbled. "The old Sher was a pain in the ass as well."

"But Chardin is worse," Turbery said. "Because he's got brains, something his father fortunately—for Numantia and for peace—managed to live without "I'm not sure," he went on, "the situation is as serious as you believe, Seer. But there's no harm in preparing for certain eventualities. So let me ask you what must be done right now?"

"Declare martial law," Tenedos said promptly. "We cannot do that," Protogenes said. "That's a prerogative of the Rule of Ten."

"Is there any reason you can't do everything short of the actual declaration?" Tenedos asked. "By this I mean mobilize the army immediately. Put small roving patrols under the command of battle-experienced officers, in the streets. Move the men out of the cantonments, sir. Put them in, as emergency reinforcements, at the wardens' posts.

The people already fear the worst, so seeing the army about, ready for action, should reassure the faithful and perhaps make the wicked rethink their plans.

"Sometimes a show of force is enough. But that should not be all. You should... sirs, you must reinforce the army, here in Numantia, and you must reinforce them with the best." "You mean the frontier forces," Turbery said.

"Just that. Pull Captain & Cimabue's regiment, the Ureyan Lancers, plus the other two Ureyan units ..."

"The Twentieth Heavy Cavalry and the Tenth Hussars," I put in.

"Pull them down here at once. Commandeer swift steamers and have them sail south as soon as possible. If I were in your chair, sir, I'd have a dispatch out within the hour with the order. I'd further bring another ten regiments of the best in, keeping them hidden outside the city to see if the situation worsens." "That would leave the borders undefended," Protogenes objected.

"What does a finger, a hand, a foot, mean if the heart is

about to be impaled?" Tenedos said, his voice heated. "When the present emergency is over, even if the worst happens, we'll be able to retake the Frontiers. But if Nicias goes down in chaos... we might as well turn those lands over to Achim Fergana and the other bandits. They'd be no worse off.

"Another thing that must be done immediately, although it is nearly too late. All food supplies must be commandeered and moved to a central location, where they can be well guarded. We can strike at the mob through its stomach, if it's forced to come to us for rations.

"We must also put out foraging parties into the outlying districts, and send word to all cities on the river that we are prepared to pay, in hard gold, for any supplies that can be brought in and given to the proper authorities. If thievish merchants take too great an advantage, we'll simply commandeer what they have at swordpoint.

"The people who stand by us must and shall be fed. Only then will they stand firm behind us."

"You are a man of strong measures, indeed," Turbery said.

"Yet..."

"Sir," Tenedos said, "this is an action that must be taken. We serve Numantia. Now is the time to serve her well, not with half-measures or no measures at all."

He knew when to shut up, and silence hung in the large chamber for a long, long time. I dared not move, hardly dared breathe, for fear of breaking the mood he'd created.

"General," Turbery said to bis superior, "what the seer is telling us isn't altogether fresh information."

"Dammit, it isn't," the old man said. "But he doesn't have to sound so damned gleeful about it!" They were talking as if neither of us were in the chamber.

"As he said, these are harsh days," Turbery said. "I'm of a mind to do as he suggests. After all, the Rule of Ten have seldom expressed much interest when we move our soldiers about, so long as they themselves are well-guarded."

Protogenes nodded, like a great, wise bear.

"Yes," he said. "I despise judgments of the ; of the moment, fear-

* ing them to be based on the heart's summons. But I sense the seer is telling something very close to the truth, General Turbery. We shall follow bis suggestions."

Tenedos only smiled a bit, but knowing him as I did, I could feel the pure joy radiate.

"Still further," Protogenes went on. "I am of a mind that this seer, whether he's using magic or just common sense, is giving us far better insights than our other advisers and staff. "Seer, I would like you to give up your teaching duties, at least until the present situation clarifies itself, and work directly under myself and General Turbery. I don't know what the position might be called, but I'll give you full powers, in writing, to do whatever you think is necessary, and I mean anything. Just one favor: Before you start moving my whole damned army about, at least do me the favor of telling us." He chuckled, but there wasn't much humor in the laugh. "I'm not sure what else to order, but as the days pass I'm certain there'll be changes made. Will you serve us, sir?" Tenedos rose.

"There could be no greater pleasure or honor, sir, than to serve you... and all Numantia."

"Very well. Is there anything you need?" "Yes," Tenedos said. "I'd like to have Captain a" Cimabue detached from his regiment and assigned to me." "Done. Captain, will you need anything?" "No, sir." Then I thought.

"Or, rather, yes, sir. Not for me, but for the seer."

Tenedos frowned, but I continued. "Sir, I've served under the seer for more than two years, and I think he's a great man. I shouldn't be saying this in front of him, I suppose, for it sounds like I'm sucking up. But it's the truth. He has one monstrous flaw, though. He won't see when he's in jeopardy, and I know, right now, he is in the greatest danger of his life, as great a one as Numantia herself."

I don't know where these words were coming from—I was not generally gifted with the ability to make speeches. But now they flowed easily.

"I think that's a reasonable assumption," Turbery said. "So what would you have us do?"

"Order him to find safe living quarters, sir. Right now it'd take no more than one or two Tovieti, creeping in at night,

and..." I stopped.

"The captain exaggerates," Tenedos said. "I'm sure my magic would warn me." I felt like responding that at least twice before he hadn't been able to foresee an action of Thak's, but kept my mouth closed.

"Your suggestion is excellent," Turbery said. "As it happens, we have just the place, not half a mile from this palace. It was used to house hostages who were in fact prisoners, and is hence easy to guard and hold. Seer Tenedos, I order you to move into these quarters."

"Very well, sir."

Protogenes was studying me closely.

"Seer Tenedos," he said, "is this man to be trusted?'

"Absolutely, sir."

"It strikes me," the old man said, "remembering my own days as a junior officer, how hellish hard it was to get anything done if it didn't coincide with the interests of my superiors.

"The easiest solution would be to promote you, Captain a Cimabue. Just as it'd be easier for you, Seer, if you held the rank of, say, general. But I'm not prepared to do that, at least not yet. General Turbery, when you have Seer Tenedos's orders drawn up, also include the captain's name in that.

"You, sir, are now empowered to do anything you think necessary to not only save Numantia, but to keep the seer alive."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." I saluted.

"That's all," General Protogenes said. "We shall be in almost daily contact, I'm sure. Now, we have set ourselves a task. It is time to go to work."

"Thank you, sir," I said as Tenedos and I rode away from the palace.

"I'm not sure I was right in asking for you to attend this * meeting, which I did not only because I wished you to share the honor, but because I shall need your clearheadedness in the days to come."

"Why not?"

"Now it would appear I have acquired a nursemaid. Hmmph."

I laughed, then asked, "Sir. Your opinion. Will this save the day?"

Tenedos considered for a long time before he answered.

"I don't know. Certainly the generals said all the right words and supposedly gave me complete powers.

But they are as much a part of the system as the Rule of Ten. They rose to their present positions under it, so I wonder if they're able to question things as deeply as they should."

"I noted you said nothing about it being time for the Rule of Ten to be replaced."

"Of course not." Tenedos snorted. "I'm mad... but I'm hardly a fool."

Three hours later a messenger from the Palace of War came to report that the "orders in question" had been dispatched, and that the Tauler and six of the other fast packets had been requisitioned by the army for "special purposes."

Now all we had to do was hang on until some real soldiers arrived, and we could move to the next step: going into the warrens of Nicias and winkling out the Tovieti.

Domina Lehar liked it little when I told him of my new assignment. He said he'd been counting on me to help rebuild the regiment, and I almost felt sorry for him. But what the hells did he think his badges of rank were given him for—to impress the other rice planters at a formal ball? I'm sure he was even less happy when I informed him I'd be stealing certain of his warrants. The Golden Helms may have been a useless formation in my eyes, but there were certain men I'd noted as being worthwhile.

The first, after Troop Guide Karjan, was Legate Petre, of

course. He grumbled that he'd not joined the army to be a warden, but when I told him how important it was, and would he rather be teaching his men just why the inside of their buckles should be polished when they went on parade, he gave in.

Quite joyously I put away the Helms' dress uniform for a simpler fighting dress of a helmet with plain reached crest, nosepiece, and cheek plates; mail waistcoat over a flaring silk blouse; tight pants; boots with sideplates; and a cloak. Instead of a shield I laced a steel guard to my left forearm. I ignored the normal cavalry lance and saber, and carried a plain straight sword of the style I preferred, a dagger shorter than the one I'd dueled Malebranche with, and, unstrung and kept in a saddle-carrier with war-arrows, a short compound bow.

My first task was to make sure Seer Tenedos's new quarters were completely secure. The building was just as Turbery had said, a four-story circular tower with a moat on the outside and a small keep on the inside. It had sat disused for years, so the first order of business was getting it cleaned. As one of my last duties with the Helms, I'd set my own troop to the task. The "Silver Centaurs" howled complaints about being no better than housemaids when I turned them out with brooms, mops, and orders to clean the building until it shone like their helmets. I refrained from agreeing that was about the limit of their abilities.

I wished I'd not been so cavalier as to loan Legate Yonge to Maran's friend. I could have used him and his friends, but my word had been given. When I thought of Amiel, Maran's face and body crashed into my mind, and I was swept away for an instant, thinking of her. But then I came back, and hoped she was lying tanned, lithe, and lazy on the deck of her husband's yacht. I also, idiotically, hoped she was celibate, and that her husband had acquired an acute shrinking disease in his private parts.

I fought my mind back to duty and the job of protecting Tenedos. I wished the Lancers would hurry and arrive—I planned to loot them thoroughly for Tenedos's bodyguard.

The best I could manage at present was to select men from

the units around the capital, not accepting volunteers for obvious reasons, and then assign them to their details randomly. Even if there were Tovieti among them, and I assumed there were, they would have little time to plan an attack and, since I teamed up the soldiers arbitrarily, the chances of everyone on a detail being conspirators was unlikely. Each day I reshuffled the details as well, and once a week returned the men to their units to be replaced with fresh soldiery.

As senior warrants I used Karjan and the other warrants I'd stolen from the Helms. Karjan, even though he gave me a dark look from time to time, proved an excellent leader, and I found myself depending more and more on him.

But all this was no more than putting a plaster on a scratch while the patient was bleeding to death from a hundred wounds. I wondered what would come next, how this unrest in Nicias would be permanently ended.

Kutulu was also reassigned to Tenedos, and with him came his stacks and boxes of cards. He also brought some assistants.

I don't know what duties Tenedos put them to, but when I asked the warden if I could borrow a few of his men to instruct my guards in the fine art of security, he snapped that I could not—he was casting for far greater fish.

I saw little of Tenedos during this time. He was closely guarded in his travels by specially picked guards who worked directly for the Palace of War. I didn't trust them entirely, but could do little until my own escorts were chosen and ready.

He came back to the tower late one night, and came into my quarters.

"I would dearly appreciate a small brandy," he sighed, "and the hells with the state of emergency. There are times you've got to cheat on yourself."

I kept a flask for exactly these times, and poured him a drink. He sipped at it. "In case you have ever wondered, the singularly most stubborn, selfish, thickheaded people who walk this earth are magicians."

I said I was already very well aware of that, thank you. "Have you heard of the Chares Brethren?" I had not.

He explained they were a group of the most influential magicians in Nicias. They weren't a secret order, but were quite comfortable with few people knowing of their existence.

"They were created," Tenedos went on, "as a sort of mutual aid society. They've also become a very powerful political group in Nicias. I've been trying to woo mem and I'd just as soon try to seduce ten temple virgins at once, or herd a flock of rabid sheep."

"Might I ask why?"

"I won't be specific, Damastes, because my idea might be a foolish one. Perhaps you know that magic is the most selfish of all the arts." I did not.

"A magician works a spell to benefit himself or, grudgingly, a client, for which he expects to be richly rewarded. The more selfish the deed, the more likely it is to be granted, or so it seems to me. Perhaps that's why there's more talk of black magic than white. Certainly spells that have been tried, altruistically trying to spread a blanket of peace over the world, or ending famine, seldom seem to take.

"Or perhaps the gods are happy seeing us squirm in misery. "At any rate, I had a thought on the matter, and am trying to get these raving fountains of all knowledge to help me test it.

"But so far all they're doing is talking, and don't seem to notice that the world is in flames around them."

I was wandering around the outside of the tower, trying to think like a Tovieti intent on breaking in and how I could thwart the villain, when the messenger found me. He was a Golden Helm, and with the adjutant's compliments, could I find the time to return to the Helms' cantonment on what I might consider personal business?

I couldn't imagine how I had any personal business at all * these days, but grudged the time, telling Petre where I was going.

Sitting outside the regimental headquarters was a for-hire pony trap. I dismounted, pulled off my helmet, and entered.

Maran was sitting on a bench, just inside the door. She came to her feet as I entered, and gladness lit her face. Then it vanished, and I saw that look of an innocent who'd somehow sinned without knowing it and expected to be punished.

She rushed into my arms and I held her, my helmet clanging to the floor unnoticed. I did not know what to say or do. Looking over her shoulder I saw a leather valise sitting by the bench.

We stood in silence for a space. Then she said, her voice a bit muffled against my shoulder. "This is the first time I've ever hugged anybody wearing armor."

"I hope not the last," I managed.

She stepped back, and we looked at each other wordlessly.

"I left him," she said.

"When?"

"Three days ago. We docked at some island, and we were supposed to have a big banquet with its governor. And... and I couldn't do it. I couldn't do any of it. Not anymore.

"I threw some things in that bag, found a sailor who had a fast boat, offered him gold, and he took me back to Nicias." She smiled a little. "He was old enough to be my grandfather, but I still think he hoped I'd think him young and lusty."

"Idiot," I said fondly. "You could have been sold to the pirates."

"Would you have come looking for me if I had?"

Of course the notion was quite absurd—I had a far more serious duty here. But I knew enough to lie, and as the words came I knew they weren't lies at all, but the raw truth.

"Always and forever."

I kissed her, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Captain Lardier peer out of his office, look shocked, and vanish.

"Are you sure of what you've done?" I asked her.

She nodded. "I'll never go back to him. Not even if you and I... not ever." She stepped away from me.

"I came here as soon as we landed. Now ... I guess I'll go to our... my house. I'll have his things moved out, I suppose. My family will be too busy screaming for a while for me to go near them." She looked wistful. "I wish I could stay with you. But I guess that'd be scandalous."

"Worse than that," I agreed. "Forbidden by law." I didn't like the idea of her going back to that house, even if every sign of Count Lavedan was stripped away. Also, more logically, I assumed that others might know of our affair, and see Maran as a way to me, and through me to Seer Tenedos.

But there was no other choice.

Then the idea struck. For the first time, and one of the few times thereafter, I used a trust dishonestly. And by the gods I'm glad I was brave enough to do it. I felt that men, and I feel it now, even knowing what came later. If I had unlimited powers, by Jaen I was now going to use, or rather misuse, them.

"But you aren't going back to that mansion," I said firmly.

"Then where?"

"You are going to live in a nice, safe tower, surrounded by men who'll do anything to ensure you're safe.

With me. That is, if you wish."

Maran looked at me, and again I fell into the dark, warm depths of her eyes.

"I wish," she whispered. "Oh, Damastes, how I wish."

"This is most irregular," Tenedos said. "But I can see your point. I don't think you could be blackmailed even if the countess were a hostage, but there is no point in taking the chance."

"Thank you, sir." I was vastly relieved.

Tenedos shrugged.

"Since it's already done, it would look even stranger if I countermanded your orders."

"Might I suggest you consider doing the same with Baroness Rasenna? There's more than enough room."

"No," Tenedos said firmly. "First, because at the moment I have no time for anything personal. Secondly, she is in no danger whatsoever."

"Are you sure?"

"If it makes you feel better, know that I cast a certain spell using, among other things, some of my own blood. Rasenna is very safe, very invisible, even if Thak himself came seeking her. Now, please remove your long Cimabuan nose from my business!"

"Yes, sir."

Two weeks passed, and we'd heard no word about the reinforcing units upriver. Worse, the Palace of War informed us that heliograph stations along the river were not answering signals.

Where was the army?

It was ugly riding the streets of Nicias. There was no more open violence, but only because no soldier or member of the government rode alone, but with a full escort. Bodies were still found in the streets at dawn.

It looked as if there were only two classes left in the capital: the commoners, who held the streets in sullen anger, and the gentry, who huddled in their enclaves. The merchants, clerks, traders—all the middle levels of Nicias—seemed to have either vanished or joined the lower classes, waiting for something to happen.

I started awake, hearing the chanting of many voices. Torchlight flared into my open window, and I rolled out of bed, naked, fully awake, reaching for the sword hanging from its sheath on the bedstead.

Mardn sat up, sleep-dazed.

"What is it?'

I didn't know, but I hurried to the window and peered out. Our rooms were on the third level of the tower, looking toward the city, away from the Palace of War.

The night was a sea of bobbing torches, the streets alive

with marching men and women. I could hear bits of what they were chanting, but no more than a word here, a word there: "Bread... peace... down with the Rule... voice of... people... Numantia... burn or live..." and through it a thin chorus: "Saionji... Saionji... Saionji..."

Maran was beside me, wearing only the thin shift she'd been wearing when I came to bed, exhausted from work, hours after she'd retired. She leaned out the window, elbows on the sill, fascinated.

"Can you feel it, Damastes?" she whispered. "Can you feel it? The goddess is calling."

It was just the roar of the crowd, but then it came to me, she came to me, the goddess, the destroyer, the Creator calling to my blood, and it stirred.

Powerful magic was abroad this night, and it moved me, and I wanted to go out, to be down there, amid the crowd, ready to rend and tear, then, from the ashes, to build a new realm, a realm of absolute freedom, where all that could be wanted was there for the taking.

Maran turned, and I saw her eyes gleam in the torchlight "It's like Tenedos said," she whispered. "A new world. A new time. I can feel it, Damastes, I can feel it like the Wheel turns. Can't you?"

I could indeed, and it gripped me, seized me by the throat, and all the dark passions rose high, and now there might have been drums out there in the night, or it might have been my pulse, but then it changed, and it was not Saionji's manifestation of Isa, six-headed war god, but rather Jaen, and my cock rose hard, throbbing, painful.

I was behind Maran, pulling her shift up above her waist, forcing her legs apart, and then I impaled her on my cock, burying it in one thrust, and she whimpered and Jaen took her as well, and she thrust back against me and cried out I pulled back, until the head of my cock was at her inner lips, then rammed forward, my hands finding her breasts, pulling her against me, and she screamed, scream buried in the crowd-roar outside, and again and again, each time thrusting K deeper, reaching, tearing deeper into her body, into her soul, and I shouted as I came, gushing hot, hot as the fires inside the earth that made Thak.

After a time, time came back, and I realized I was lying half-out the window across Maran, crushing her against the sill.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't apologize," she said. "Just... give me a little warning next time. So I can put a pillow down."

I slipped out of her, took her in my arms, and we stumbled back to the bed.

"I have the feeling," she murmured, after we'd calmed, "I'll be a little sore tomorrow."

She stroked my chest.

"I think, my love, that what we just did is what I've heard called sex-magic. Amiel loaned me a book about it once."

Darkness touched me for a second. "Sex-magic for who?" I asked. "Who called it?"

"I don't know," she said. "But I've never felt anything like it. And^I don't know if I want to ever again. I feel like... like we were, not used, but part of somebody that's not us. No, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we were no more than someone's vassal."

The Tovieti's sorcerers? Thak himself?

Or—and the thought made me shudder—Saionji herself? Was the goddess of destruction out there, hanging over Nicias, smiling as she saw the order that had always been tremble?

I don't know if sex-magic was cast that night, if others were grabbed and shaken by a spell, or if it was just MaraVs and my own sudden lust.

But the next day Nicias shattered into chaos.

TWENTY The Fires of Nicias I here are many tales of what caused the

riots. Some I say a peasant's child was ridden down by a noble-

JL man's carriage, others that a young girl was brutally beaten by the wardens, others that it began in a drunken bar fight between some government clerks and some carters.

I don't doubt any of them, but I don't believe the city erupted over a single incident—the madness spread too rapidly. There'd been too many years of the poor being neglected and downtrodden, too many years with their leaders not leading, too many years of instability, and so the city was like a pile of dry wood that a burning ember is touched to there ... there ... there ... and the wildfire explodes.

The commoners ran rampant, burning, looting, beating, killing, and raping when they encountered an enemy, or simply someone who looked better off than they were.

The wardens fled to their stations and barricaded themselves in; the soldiers hid in the barracks; the rich cowered in their mansions; while the Rule of Ten and the Nicias Council met in emergency session and did nothing.

Again the disorders struck home. Rask, one of the Rule of Ten, Farel's comrade, simply disappeared, and no one knows * what became of him to this day. A mob sacked the Council Hall, happened on four of the city councilors, and tore them apart.

Scopas came to the tower to consult with Tenedos, and the seer told me what their conversation had been.

Tenedos made the same suggestions he had before, and once again Scopas weaseled on taking such drastic steps.

Perhaps, he said, since the commoners are mostly looting their own quarters, they should be let alone until their frenzy dies away.

Surprisingly, Tenedos agreed with what was happening, at least partially. "Let the poor burn their tenements and slums," he told me. "When this is over, we'll be able to rebuild Nicias as it is supposed to look." That callousness shocked me, but I think I was able to hide my reaction. "But anyone who thinks this rising will run out of combustibles is a fool. The Tovieti, and Chardin Sher's agents, will make sure that will not happen."

The insanity grew worse and worse.

Days passed, and there was still no sign, nor word, of the soldiers who'd been summoned from the Frontiers. Tenedos tried casting a spell, but said nothing happened. It was, he said, like trying to peer through a dense fog. He said this could mean only one thing-—sorcery, which meant the Tovieti were keeping the troops from the capital.

I'd had Tenedos use his emergency powers to move the Golden Helms, the Nineteenth Foot, and two other of the parade regiments into tents in Hyder Park, equidistant from our tower, the Palace of War, and the Rule of Ten's palace, for security and as an immediate reaction force. They whined about having to forsake their comfortable brick barracks. I suspected if the rioters left them alone, they'd be quite content to sit there polishing brass and practicing empty roundelays on the parade ground until all Nicias was ashes around them. Instead, they rode, and walked, guard; and made short patrols through the city's major thoroughfares, complaining all the while. Terrible soldiers, but they were the only game in town. At least, I wryly thought, I probably didn't have to worry about any of the complainers being Tovieti—those would be most grateful for any chance to get close to Tenedos, the Rule of Ten, or the army staff.

It was a terrible time, and there were terrible sights.

I saw a screaming, drunken woman run into the middle of a square just as a column of the Helms rode into it. She was waving something I couldn't distinguish. But another soldier could, and a horseman spurred his horse into a gallop, his lance dropped into position, and the woman went spinning away, blood spattering the cobbles.

The soldier pulled his lance free, and came back to us, and by that time I had my sword out, and at his throat.

'Tell me one reason," I said, "you should not die for murder, you bastard!"

"Sir... you didn't see what she had in her hand. Sir, it was a man's jewels ... cock an' all!" Paying no heed to my blade, he vomited suddenly. I could not kill him, but at least I told Troop Guide Karjan to deal with him later.

Perhaps I should have slain the man. I don't know.

I told Maran some of what I saw in my daily rounds, but not about the emasculator. No woman of her youth should know about such evil. I just considered that thought, and realize how foolish it is. No one of any age or any sex should be subjected to what we went through in those days.

After a week, the city was paralyzed. But that was not enough. Now the Tovieti moved out, smoothly taking command of the mob.

They didn't burn their own hovels anymore, but rather sent raiding expeditions into the rich parts of Nicias.

Stores miles from the slums were ripped apart and fired. There was no doubt as to who was leading the rabble—bodies would be carefully left for the patrols to find, always with the yellow silk cord around their throats.

Next signs appeared, scrawled huge on walls demarcating certain districts like Chicherin. Sometimes they held messages:

* NO ARMY WARDENS DIE FROM HERE ON NO RULE OF TEN BEYOND THIS SIGN FREE CHICHERIN Or sometimes it was simpler, just a scrawled, twisting line in yellow.

"Quite interesting," Tenedos observed. "The Tovieti's progress would make an excellent case study. First chaos, then strike directly against the enemy, then delineate your own territory, where you'll make the laws and customs. They'll keep the pressure on us, making sure the Rule of Ten never have a chance to take a deep breath, let alone think or listen to what I'm trying to tell them. As the days pass the Tovieti will gain recruits, since all mankind flocks to join a winner. When they think they're strong enough, then they'll come for us. Fascinating.

"What puzzles me is who was the mastermind of this plan? It isn't Thak—no demon, no matter how powerful, could be expected to understand the affairs of man so closely. Nor would it be Chardin Sher or his errand boy Malebranche.

"It could only be that unknown being who first summoned Thak to carry out his dreams for mankind.

"It is a pity Thak slew him, for now I know that must be the case, or he would have resurfaced and tried to bring his juggernaut under control.

"I wish I'd known the man, for his ideas are most interesting."

I rather hoped Thak had spent a long time enjoying himself with his master before letting him return to the Wheel, and that it would be many turnings before Irisu allowed him to reincarnate as anything above a slime-worm.

The nobility were almost as insane with terror as the mob was with blood lust. They would hire, and pay any amount, for the services of a man who owned a sword and promised to keep them alive. Naturally, some of these men, and I heard of a few women as well, were phonies or, worse,

thieves who used this trust for opportunity. And some of them were Tovieti.

Mahal, hurrying home to his lustful young wife, was pulled from his carriage and strangled by his own bodyguard. The man was cut down by Mahal's driver, but the Rule of Ten was now seven strong.

No one had much time to mourn Mahal. In the predawn hours of the next morning the rabble formed around the barracks of the Second Heavy Cavalry, whose domina had refused to deploy them closer to the palace. The sentries were silenced, and men with torches, pikes, and strangling cords slid into the compound.

The unit woke to screams, flame, and death. Perhaps one or two of the men of the Second Cavalry managed to escape. If so, none of them ever returned to the army. In less than three hours, an entire regiment of the Numantian Army was obliterated. This had never happened in all the army's proud history, at least not for the last thousand years records had been kept.

At noon that day General Urso Protogenes rode out to the still-flaming ruins of the Second's barracks. He'd refused a heavy escort, saying he'd be gone only a few minutes, hardly time enough for any of "those villains" to put together an ambush.

The legate in charge of the five-man party said General Protogenes had taken a look at the sprawled bodies of what he sincerely believed had been fine soldiers, and heavy sobs had shaken his chest. He kept shaking his head in disbelief, but his eyes could find no ease.

"My people," the legate heard him whisper, and no one knows if he was talking about Nicians or his soldiers.

He bade the legate wait a moment; he wished to step inside the regimental office, which was no longer aflame. There was something he hoped to find there.

Ten minutes later, when the general had not reemerged, the alarmed young officer went looking for him.

The general had evidently gone out the back door of the office, across the rear of the compound, and out into the city.

* He was another who was never seen again, nor did his murderers ever claim credit for helping a sad old man find the death he sought By now we were so hardened that the next deaths almost made us smile. Another of the Rule of Ten's councilors, notorious for preferring the most brutal of bedpartners, couldn't restrain his lust. He, along with the mealymouthed chamberlain, Olynthus, went looking for satisfaction one night.

Their bodies were found sprawled in front of the Rule of Ten's palace the next morning. The cords that strangled them would have come as a blessing, from the savage wounds on the corpses.

This was finally enough for the Rule of Ten. They determined to negotiate with the mob, with the Tovieti, even though there'd been no leaders show themselves, nor any demands made.

The Rule of Ten's speaker, Barthou, managed to convince five of Nicias's smoothest-tongued diplomats to take on this vital mission. Tenedos said he'd been asked if he wished to accompany them, and he'd told Barthou he thought the speaker was mad.

With a full troop of the Helms, who actually were beginning to shape into something vaguely resembling soldiers, I escorted the five to the edges of the Chicherin district, where the riots had first broken out, and where the Rule of Ten had somehow decided the heart of the rebellion was.

The negotiators had white flags tied to staves, and, holding them high overhead, the five walked down the winding street into the slum.

Half an hour later, I heard a single scream, a scream that reflected all of the pain the world could hold.

Then silence. We waited for another hour, until rooftops began bristling with slingers and even a few archers, then wheeled our horses and rode back to the tower.

General Turbery took over command of the army, and ordered all troops to withdraw into a ring around the Rule of Ten's palace. We would hold, and then strike back from there.

With them came those wardens who'd faithfully tried to hold their outlying stations. The regiments were ordered to loot as they came, so every granary and warehouse was stripped bare. As the troops marched or rose into the parks around the palace, the rich, the noble, all those who were the Tovieti's or the mob's targets, came with them.

Makeshift camps were set up everywhere.

Among them were Amiel and her husband, Pelso, still loyally guarded by Legate Yonge and his three scoundrels. I wished I could find a way to move the count and countess into the tower, but knew there wasn't one.

Rasenna had also arrived inside the perimeter from wherever Tenedos had been keeping her hidden, and at least she was allowed to be with the seer.

I took Yonge aside, and told the hillman his charges were now safe in the bosom of the army, his responsibility was over, and I needed him and his friends desperately.

Yonge looked sly. "Ah, Captain Damastes, but I cannot. You remember what I told you once, how impressed I was with your way of honor and loyalty, even unto death?" "I do."

"Then I must hold to my oath and still serve the Lord and Lady Kalvedon." He looked most pious.

"Besides," I said dryly, "I wouldn't be paying you in good red gold."

"There is that," Yonge said, brown teeth flashing. "There is that, indeed."

I went to Tenedos and asked him how long would we have to prepare for the attack.

"I'm not sure," he said. "I've been having better luck with my magic, and whatever spells Thak has been spreading are wearing thin. I can feel it building, feel them readying their weapons. I'd say, oh, three days. Five at the outside." "What do you think our chances are?" "Well, let's count, or guess, really, since I haven't counted noses.

Let's think as small as we can. We have four regiments around us, two thousand men. A thousand wardens. Another six or eight thousand fugitives, let us imagine, although I'll Hi wager there's twice that many. Then there's the government clerks, diplomats, hangers-on, magicians ... other useless types.

"Against us, what? Half a million? A million?" "Sir, aren't you supposed to be a pillar of inspiration?" "Only to legates and below. Captains can keep their own lips stiff. Besides, I'm certain with truth and justice on our side we'll win through," he said bitterly.

"Oh. One other thing." He reached in his pocket, took out a small ornate metal case, and handed it to me.

"There are two tablets inside. If the gods don't find it in them to change our luck, you and the countess are welcome to these.

"They're painless and shall return you to the Wheel in seconds."

I left his cheerful company and started detailing men to dig trenches.

When the sun rose the next morning, welcome warmth cutting through the mists, the Latane River was a cacophony of ships' bells and whistles.

The army had finally arrived.

TWENTY-ONE Retribution I he whistles and bells sounded the mob's doom as well I as our salvation, and they and the Tovieti knew it. A A. group of them charged the docks, but were broken against the arrows coming in from the transports and from the welcoming force I'd quickly assembled.

The riverboats moved to the docks then, and gangplanks dropped and long lines of men snaked across them, carrying their weapons with the ease of long familiarity. They paid no mind to the jeers and chants coming from other parts of the waterfront, but keenly looked about, evaluating a new battlefield, and, as like, what loot might present itself.

There was no singing, no flashing display, and I wanted to grab each of the surviving Helms by the throat and say, "See, this is what soldiers are, not your empty bullshit of trumpets, parades, and banners."

General Turbery and Tenedos arrived just as the formation's de facto commander, normally head of the Varan Guard, was disembarking. He was a tall, rawboned man, cleanshaven, with short hair and a scar-seamed face, Domina Myrus Le Balafre. I knew him by reputation, a brawler, a swordsman, a duelist who'd killed more than his share, and a supremely confident and able battle commander.

* He saluted General Turbery.

"I thought you might never come," the general said.

"I thought the same," the domina said. "We should have expected opposition the minute we put out down the river. But we didn't... and paid hard for our confidence. But no matter now.

"Sir. I have the honor to present the relief force for Nicias, thirteen regiments strong, six of horse, seven of foot. We await your orders."

General Turbery hesitated, thinking. Tenedos stepped forward.

"Sir, may I offer a suggestion?"

Domina Le Balafre scowled at him.

"Who the blazes are you, sir, if I might ask?"

"Seer Laish Tenedos, special adviser to the general of the armies. Sir."

The two men stared hard at each other. Domina Le Balafre was the first to lower his gaze, but I felt the clash of wills had just begun. General Turbery turned to the seer.

"Go ahead, sir. You've always been the first with an idea."

"Sir," Tenedos said, "I think we should not wait, not develop a firm plan. Let us move immediately. Put the regiments into the parks, break them down into battle formation, and move them out into the city at first light. The Tovieti will never expect that."

General Turbery blinked, then turned to Le Balafre.

"Can that be done?"

The domina was as startled as the general. Then he considered, and smiled tightly.

"Yes. We can manage that. Yes, indeed. That would be a short, sharp shock for the rabble. Sir, I can guarantee the Varan Guard will be ready, and... let me think... at least half, most likely more of the regiments. Maybe all of them," he thought aloud. "I'd suggest you only hold one of them back. The Seventeenth Ureyan Lancers won't be ready to fight."

My own regiment! A pang touched me. What had happened? Le Balafre went on to explain, and now we found why

the army was so late. They'd not been able to move downriver as fast as they should, because the supplies and new driving belts for the TaKIer-type transports "somehow" weren't waiting at dockside as had been arranged.

But things had not come to real grief until they entered the great delta, upstream from Nicias, just below the city of Cicognara. They'd encountered dense river fogs that forced them to tie up for days.

"Did you not recognize sorcery, sir?" Tenedos said.

"I pay little heed to magicians," Le Balafre said. "This time, it was my error."

General Veli, the expedition's commander, had realized time was running short, and so, in spite of the weather, had set out once more. The fleet had become lost in the delta, taking dead-ended passages or channels that shallowed uselessly. In one long, narrow strait they'd been attacked. The flagship had been hit by huge boulders, catapult-launched, "although how the hells the gods-damned rebels managed to build them, let alone wrangle them into position in those gods-damned swamps, is beyond me." The ship lost way, listed, and began sinking, and then archers came from hiding and volleyed arrows into the men trying to swim to shore.

"They killed General Veli then. And that's when the Lancers were crippled. They had their domina, uh..."

"Herstal," I put in, in spite of myself. Le Balafre gave me a dark look—captains don't interrupt dominas—but said nothing.

"Herstal, yes, that's it, plus their adjutant and about half of their senior captains had gone on the flagship for a conference. We only fished a handful of men from the water, none of them officers."

So my old enemy, Captain Lenett, was dead. Oddly, I was disappointed—I had been looking forward to a chance to show him he'd sadly misjudged me. Now, I'd never have the opportunity.

Three other riverboats had been sunk, but the fleet had rescued most of the men. Their attackers vanished into the swamps as rapidly as they'd emerged.

They went on, and found the main channel, then lost it again.

"It was then I had a bit of an idea," Le Balafre said, smiling grimly. "I'd heard, just rumors, y'know, about these scum and their strangling cords. They haven't come yet to Varan, where we'll give them a warm welcome.

"But I thought I' d have a peep into the gear of the riverboat pilots and officers. You'll never guess what I discovered in eight of them."

"What did you do with those Tovieti when you'd discovered them?"

"Why, hung them, of course. They made pretty decorations on the boat's cranes, dangling and kicking like pomegranates in a summer wind." He looked hard at Tenedos, probably expecting shock from the civilian.

"Good, sir," Tenedos said warmly. "Very good indeed. I promise you you'll have more strange fruit to admire before you leave Nicias."

Le Balafre nodded approval. "After that, we had no further trouble, and we came on Nicias late last night.

We didn't dock because, frankly, we didn't know what our reception was. Glad you were able to hold out."

"Yes," General Turbery said. "Now, let's get the soldiery ashore. It'll be a long day preparing for the morrow."

"One thing before we move, sk," Tenedos said. "This matter of the Lancers?"

"Yes?"

"I had the pleasure of having a troop of them guard me when I was in Kait, and—"

"You're that Tenedos, eh?" Le Balafre interrupted. "My apologies for being rude before, sir. You did well, sir. Very well indeed."

"I thank you." Tenedos turned back to Turbery. "As I was saying, I found them to be excellent soldiers. I think it would be a pity to lose their services now."

"You have a suggestion?"

"I do. Name Captain a Cimabue their domina. He's from the regiment, and has served well."

Both the domina and the general gazed at me intently.

"Irregular," General Turbery said. "Most irregular... hmm."

He thought for a moment. "Jumping a man two full grades... that'll not sit well with the army's list keepers, now will it?"

"And the hells with them," Le Balafre snapped. "As if you and I haven't spent most of our careers battling those shit-heads, always carrying on about who's senior to whom, and who's in the Upper Half and who's in the Lower Half and who gets to sit ahead of whom at the banquet.

"Balls to them all. I hope the Tovieti killed more than their share down here."

General Turbery smiled a bit. "I'd forgotten how subtle and diplomatic you were in your speech until now, Myrus." Once more he considered. "You know, General Protogenes had said that, when this emergency was over he wished to reward the captain if he lived."

He looked at me closely. "Captain, do you think you can handle the task?"

"Sir, I know I can." And I did. Hadn't I been ordering around, even if indirectly, dominas and regiments lately? Maybe I was arrogant, but I felt a swell of confidence.

"Then, sir, I take great honor in naming you, Captain... ?"

"Damastes, sir."

"Damastes k Cimabue, domina of the Seventeenth Ureyan Lancers. Now, sir, take charge of your regiment!"

I came to attention. Domina Le Balafre looked about. "Hell of a place to be promoted. No bands, no speeches, no pretty women to kiss. Here, boy." He untied his own sash of rank and tied it about my waist.

And so, on a greasy riverside dock, witnessed by one sorcerer, one general, and one domina, I received my first regimental command.

I was proud... and I was humble, remembering the faith of all those, from my father to the brass-lunged instructors at the lycee to the lances and warrants who'd taught me how to really soldier, and knew I had to prove to their memory I'd been worm the trouble.

Now I had to justify that faith.

* *

I was determined the Lancers would march out with the rest in the morning if I personally had to be behind them with a whip.

First I found Regimental Guide Evatt, who looked most guilty, remembering the way I'd been set for a fall by the late Captain Lanett back in Nehul. I told him we had no time for the past. I wanted him to take charge of disembarking the horses and making them ready for the morrow. He hesitated, thinking of the enormity of the task, and I told him bluntly if he wished to hold his rank slashes he'd see it was done, no matter how. He had to call on the entire regiment to make sure it was done, especially the men of Sun Bear Troop, the regiment's support element.

I sent messengers to hunt down Legate Yonge, Legate Petre, and Troop Guide Karjan.

I had Troop Guide Bikaner report to me immediately, and informed him I was commissioning him legate. He looked startled, then pleased. At least he wasn't another like Karjan. I told him to take charge of the regiment's enlisted men and see they were marched to the assembly area I pointed out on the map, just on the shores of one of the lakes in Hyder Park. I told him to clean out any civilians camped in the area, but to do it politely, for they'd almost certainly be nobility, no matter how shabbily dressed, and they'd have good aim at his ass if he lived through the days to come, when normality, civility, and nitpicking returned to the capital.

I had the regiment's surviving officers assemble, and introduced myself. Most of them remembered me, if just as the young legate who'd supposedly done something uncalled for at a rol match, then redeemed himself in the Border States. My address was simple and short. I told them there would be changes made, some involving promotions over their heads, and they were to keep their resentments hidden until later, or else I'd be most displeased and take the extreme measures these extreme times seemed to warrant.

I told them I'd admired the late Domina Herstal, which was

mostly the truth, and hoped to be worthy of commanding the regiment he'd built. I finished by saying there were terrible days ahead, and they'd need all of their courage and intelligence just to survive.

"But survive you must, for I won't be able to finish the task without you. Lead your troops as best you can, gallop always to the sound of clashing steel, and you'll find no disfavor in my eyes.

"Lastly, you'll be facing a cunning, evil, duplicitous enemy. Hold in your mind the skills of our troops. I want you to show the caution of the sambar, the cunning of the tiger, the courage of the lion, the stealth of the leopard, the speed of the cheetah, and, when we're in battle, the tenacity of the sun bear.

"Now, go to your men and lead them as you've done in the past!"

A trifle pompous, perhaps, especially coming from a twenty-two-year-old talking to older men, some in their late forties, but not as bad as some inspirational speeches I've heard... or made, come to think of it. At any rate the officers raised a ragged cheer before they dispersed. But I knew their opinion of me was yet unformed, and would be made the first time we met the enemy.

Liking the comparison to the animals our troops were named after, I used the same analogy when I spoke to the regiment, drawn up on the shores of the lake. I told them they must think of me as new to the unit, so I had no grudges, no favorites, as yet Each of them and all of them were given a clean slate and a fresh opportunity.

"Soldier hard, soldier well—and stay alive! Let the other bastard die for his cause!"

The warrants raised a cheer, and the men set to.

Yonge and Petre had arrived as I was finishing, and I waved them to me.

"Congratulations, my Captain," Yonge said. "I said you would become a general one day, and now you are well on the way."

"Thank you, but save your admiration. You're through * guarding the Kalvedons. You're promoted to captain, and I want you to take over Sambar Troop. Their captain drowned coming downriver. They're the regimental scouts, but I'm sure you can teach them things about skulking."

Yonge grinned.

"I cannot argue with that. But how will these Numantians take being led by a despised Man of the Hills?"

"They'll like it," I said shortly. "Because there's always room in the rear rank for horsemen who used to have higher rank."

"Very good, Domina. I shall go and inspect my new command. One thing more, sir. I have a message for you."

"Give it to me."

"I have but to show it." He pointed. Across the park, on the far side of the regimental area, I saw Mar£n, sitting on a horse. I waved, although I suppose a domina is supposed to be more dignified. She waved back, then turned her horse and galloped back toward the tower. I felt a glow of love and pride; she knew I'd have no time for anything but the Lancers now.

It was Petre's turn. 'Take Tiger Troop," I said briefly. "You should have no troubles—I remember them as the best of the regiment. I'd make you my adjutant, but you're too damned valuable for that. And you're now a captain as well, Mercia."

It was as if I'd given him the throne of Maisir.

"Thank you, Damastes ... I mean, Domina. Now we can show them what we can do, can't we?" We grinned at each other like fellow conspirators who'd just won their cause, then he saluted and hurried off.

Finally, I spotted Troop Guide Karjan. I told him that he'd be serving as my right hand. I couldn't promote him, because there could be but one regimental guide, but expected him to serve in that capacity. I guess he was becoming used to sudden change, because he just grunted, and said he'd be making sure our horses were ready for the morrow.

And so the Seventeenth Lancers set to work on our impossible task.

Three hours before dawn, I was feeling a bit of satisfaction that perhaps we'd be ready as promised, when a messenger came and asked me, with General Turbery's compliments, to report to the tower for briefing.

The large dining room had been cleared of furniture, and large maps of Nicias hung around the walls. One by one the regimental commanders who'd freshly arrived in the capital reported. Already there were the dominas and captains of the four home regiments, including my former commander in the Golden Helms, Domina Lehar.

I was interested to see Kutulu and several of his assistants conferring with Tenedos, each of them with a large box of files.

The general called us to attention, then told us we'd be given our tasks by the seer.

Tenedos went to the map and, without notes or ever pausing, told each of us our missions and what part of the city we'd be moving into. He said that each domina would be given two aides: one an officer from a Nician regiment, the other a warden who, in Tenedos's words, "has specialized in the Tovieti. Take heed of what they tell you, gentlemen, because their information is exact. There'll be other wardens accompanying you who have been set their own tasks." He paused for a moment.

"I wish you well," he said. 'This day we fight for Numan-

tia and the future."

I noted several of the ranking officers exchange looks, and could easily read what they were thinking from expressions— this was no creaking pedant, far removed from the harsh realities of war. Perhaps the Seer Tenedos deserved the respect he was getting from the army's commanders.

General Turbery called us to attention and dismissed us after a few encouraging words, and we streamed back out to our commands.

Tenedos told me a week later that General Turbery had offered him a direct commission as a general that afternoon, but he'd turned it down. I asked why, and he said, 'Truthfully,

* because I wish no trace of the old order soiling the hem of my garments. But I didn't tell the general that, but rather that I felt I could be of more service observing from the outside."

I'd been astonished, having an idea of Tenedos's goals, and wearing a general's red diagonal sash would have been a long step toward achieving them. But the seer always preferred the long shot that would strike directly home.

It was still dark when the troops moved out into Nicias. Company by company the army moved into the assigned districts. Wardens trotted behind them.

The first to go were the signs. They were ripped down or white paint was splashed over them. Then the soldiers went in, street by street, moving carefully, methodically, as we'd been ordered: First the four corners of a block would be taken, and outposts set. Then the troops smashed into the buildings, house by house, never less than in squad strength. Each store, each residence, was ransacked. Women screamed, babies wept, men tried to fight back, but without effect. If obvious loot was found, the residents were rousted into the street. If the items were minor, their names were taken by the wardens and they were released with a warning. Bigger items, gold, piled delicacies, too many garments, and all adults were turned over to the wardens, to be escorted to prison pens being hammered together outside the Rule of Ten's palace.

If a yellow silk cord was found, or if there was evidence someone had committed a serious crime, for instance if a warden's sword or truncheon or bloodstained clothes were found, the men and women of that apartment were told to stand aside and were well guarded.

The search went on, house by house, tenement by tenement, until the block was completely taken apart.

The ropes were tossed over the lamp standards and the Tovieti and other men and women of violence were hanged unceremoniously.

The soldiers would re-form and march to the next block,

the bodies dangling behind them and the wail of mourners keening loud into the summer air.

Those were the orders that'd been given us, signed by the Rule of Ten. I knew those weaklings wouldn't have the guts to order such ruthlessness, and that the policy had been created by Seer Tenedos.

The mob and the Tovieti were shocked into immobility by our brutal and immediate tactics. All through that day and the next there were outbursts of violence, quickly suppressed by the soldiers, who did not use batons or blunted lances, but the sword and spear.

It was not just civilians who died. Small, desperate bands of men made sudden attacks, and squads went down screaming, and there was always the silent archer who'd loose a single arrow and flee. It was a man here, two men there, but the army was bleeding badly, more than a hundred casualties each day.

This pacification went on day after day. I grew sick with slaughter, but grimly kept on. There were things that happened at least as bad as, and possibly worse than, in the riots, but at least the rioters had the excuse of wine and rage to lessen the blame. We did not.

I'll give but one example: I was riding with Lion Troop toward a new district, passing through an area being cleared by the Varan Guards. I saw the soldiers rush a tenement, and the screams began. A window smashed open on an upper floor, and I saw a warrant hurl something out. It spun down and thudded limply in the street, not far from where I rode past. It was the body of a boy, no more than ten.

I found the officer commanding that company, and raged at him. He looked at me without expression until I'd finished, then said, flatly, as if I weren't his superior, "Sorry, sir. But I have my orders." I thought of smashing him down, but was too weary with blood to do it. I turned back toward Lucan. "Besides," he said to my back, "there's no great harm done. Nits grow up to be lice."

I determined to pursue the matter, but instead of complaining to his domina, Le Balafre, I went to Tenedos.

* I found him in the tower, supervising six men who were maneuvering a large, somewhat battered marble statue toward his rooms on the floor above mine. I took him aside, told him what had happened, and said it was hardly the only atrocity I'd seen committed by our soldiery. Someone needed to rein the army in, before we all became no more than a murderous mob ourselves.

"Domina a Cimabue," he said, "I have no sympathy for you. Perhaps you need a bit more iron in your soul.

The Tovieti, and those who fought with them, had no sympathy for us, neither man, woman, or child. They declared utter war.

"We are fighting by their rules, and it's far too late to change them. A ten-year-old is more than old enough to carry a cobblestone to a roof and use it to crush a soldier's skull. We've both seen that happen, seen boys and girls younger than that even with blood on their hands.

"We can find people to mourn for the innocent once we've tracked down the last of the guilty.

"We are in a state of war. You and the rest of the army have been given lawful orders by the rulers of Numantia. Now carry them out, sir."

That night, by chance, the Lancers were rotated back to the perimeter to be given a full night's rest and a chance to clean up. I took the opportunity to see Maran.

I was still so gripped by the sight of that dead child that I felt no lust, no passion. I told Maran what had happened, and she was as shocked as I'd been. After a time, she said, "I don't know what to tell you, my love. Is there anything you can do?"

"I don't even know if there's anything I should do," I said honestly. "I feel like I've been thrown into a pool of filth, and the harder I struggle to get out of it, the dirtier I get."

I got up and went to the window, looking out at the city. Maran joined me.

"Maybe this sounds stupid," she said. "But remember how it was last week? All we could see was fires and darkness. Look now."

fll-

X,

From this distance, and in the darkness, the city did appear to be returning to normal. The heights, where the rich lived, now twinkled with occasional lights as the braver nobility found the courage to return to their homes.

The gas had been relit on the boulevards around the palace, and it, too, looked almost as it had been, although there were far too many splotches of darkness and ruin.

"Come, my Damastes," she said softly. "I don't know any answers, and neither do you. We have each other, and we can sleep, and it may be less painful in the morning."

She was right. I took her in my arms and gently stroked the softness of her hair.

From the floor above me, from Tenedos's rooms, I heard an explosion, a crash. I yanked my sword from its sheath, tore out the door and up the stairs. The bastards had found a way to get at the seer!

I hammered at the door, and Tenedos pulled it open.

"You're all right?"

"Yes. I'm fine," he said. He looked over my shoulder and I turned and saw other men crowding the landing, weapons at hand. "An experiment of mine got out of hand," he explained. "There is nothing to worry about. My apologies."

There were grumbles, and some laughter about the various stages of undress the rescuers were in, and they filtered away toward their rooms. But I remained behind, looking over his shoulder through the door. His workroom was a shambles, fragments of marble littering every square foot of the floor.

"Great gods," I said. "What happened?"

"I attempted a certain spell, which in fact didn't go awry, as I told the others, but quite the contrary. Thank Saionji I gave Rasenna a strong sleeping potion, since I thought there might be some excitement. Not like this, however."

There was an elongated triangle etched into (he top of a round table, with symbols carved around it In the center of the triangle was a circle, and in that what I thought to be piled gems. I looked more carefully, and saw that the flashing reflections from the fire came from nothing more than shards of broken glass.

* "What is it?'

"It is, or rather I think it is, exactly what I have been seeking."

"Which means?"

"Which means I'm evoking a wizard's privilege of mystery, and will tell you more when I choose to... or when the spell is put into service, which I hope will be in no more than a day or two.

"Thank you for responding so swiftly, Damastes. Now, good night."

I shrugged and left. If Tenedos would not tell me, there'd be nothing I could do to cozen anything from him.

I told Maran what had happened as I undressed. Then the sight of that boy lying dead in the street came back.

I shuddered, and climbed into bed. Mar n looked into my eyes.

"Do you want to make love?"

"No. I don't think so. I don't think I could."

She blew out the lamp.

"Do you want me to hold you?" she whispered in the silence.

"More than anything," I said. She put her arms around me and her head on my shoulder. I caressed the softness of her cheek. After some time, her breathing gentled and she slept.

I lay for a long time, staring up into the darkness.

The Tovieti were broken. All districts were secured, although of course no one with any degree of sense traveled by night or in groups of less than a dozen.

The Tovieti were broken, but not destroyed, and so the army and the wardens began drum patrols.

Snares would rattle as a platoon of soldiers, backed by a team of wardens, marched up to an address, generally at dawn. The senior lawman would shout names from his list, and sleepy men and women would stumble out.

These were known Tovieti, on the long lists that Kutulu and his agents had gathered.

A yellow silk cord was tied around their necks, and the death sentence read. Kutulu and his wardens had stacks of them, signed by one or another of the Rule of Ten. All that was needed was to fill in the name, toss a rope over a standard or pole, and the sentence was carried out.

It was like currying a horse. The army had been the coarse comb, now the fine-toothed one swept the capital.

Not only the poor died. I saw a face I recognized, blackened as it was. Count Komroff, the man who'd renounced his title and thought everyone should live in poverty and on milk, had evidently found a more dynamic philosophy, since the yellow silk cord dangled from his elongated neck.

Nicias, even in ruins, was close to normal. Only the docks were still deadly. We had not even been able to send full-size units into these warrens without taking heavy casualties. But we—and they—knew the end was only a few days away.

Tenedos summoned me to the tower late one afternoon.

'Tomorrow night we shall end this nightmare," he announced. "Kutulu's agents have discovered that the last elements of the Tovieti, their leaders and their most fanatical, plan a last stand, taking down as many soldiers as they can, when we assault the docks. I suppose they think such a blood sacrifice will bring Thak to life."

"Why hasn't he already made an appearance? Surely the massacre of his disciples can't be pleasing."

"Why shouldn't it be? He's but a demon, hardly capable of real reasoning, at least not as we know it. I'd imagine that death, any death, even those of his own people, gives him drink and meat. I doubt if he'd feel any personal threat until the last of his believers faces doom.

"Perhaps he's even abandoned this city and returned to the Border States, or other places where he's worshiped. Not that I plan on taking any chances.

"I cast some careful spells, and found that the Tovieti are still using that smuggler's den you and Kutulu found as their headquarters."

* "I can't believe that, sir," I said. "That's completely foolish. That hideout was exposed. Wouldn't they find another?"

"I agree they're hardly showing much intelligence, at least from our viewpoint. Perhaps they think Thak killed the intruders, or perhaps that the invader was nothing but my animun-culi, under sorcerous command. Or, just as likely, they're as arrogant about our faults as the Rule of Ten were about them before the murders started.

"At any rate, I'd like a raiding party made up from your regiment. Perhaps some of those stalwarts who were with us on the retreat from Sayana might wish to put a bit of adventure in their lives.

"No more than twenty men. And yes, I'll be accompanying the raid, which is an absolute necessity, not adventurism, Domina.

"Let me show you why."

He took out a box, and opened it. Inside were the fragments of shattered glass I'd seen a few nights earner.

"You remember how angry I was trying to get those idiots in the Chare Brethren to work together and produce a single Great Spell? Well, I ran out of time, although I still think it's a possibility. Instead, I had glass bottles blown from a single vat of molten glass, and given to each member of the brotherhood. I had each of them cast a single, identical spell. When they'd succeeded, I broke the bottles, then took a bit of this glass, which was the results of the spell.

"I already had the Law of Association working for me, and I created another spell, using the Law of Contagion, and overlaid a third incantation on top of that."

"And the result is?"

"Damastes, I'm a bit ashamed of you. I shall not tell you, not out of any desire to be mysterious, but out of personal pique that you're not assembling the evidence your own eyes have gathered.

"If you haven't figured it out by tomorrow night, then perhaps you'll get a chance to see it being cast for real."

I had one final question: "What about Kutulu? Will he be coming with us?"

"Why should he?" Tenedos said. "His work will begin after the raid. Until then, there's no need to risk his abilities.

"Now, go prepare your troops. I've several other spells to prepare for emergencies."

Of course there were more than twenty men from the Lancers who wished to volunteer—there were twice that many just from the men of Cheetah Troop who'd recovered from their injuries and sicknesses gained in the retreat from Kait and returned to the regiment.

Every officer in the Lancers volunteered, and I'm afraid I made the party rank-heavy, since I took Captain Yonge and Legate Bikaner as well as myself. Captain Petre gave me a dark look when I refused him, but I wanted at least one officer I knew well to remain with the Lancers.

At dusk I kissed Maran good-bye, went upstairs to get Seer Tenedos. I approved of his dress: dark, tight-fitting tunic and pants, a matching watch cap, and boots that laced to midcalf. He had a belt-pouch with magical supplies in it. Like the rest of us, he was armed with a dagger as his primary weapon. He also carried a shallow wooden box about two feet by one foot, closed with a clasp. Fortunately, it weighed less than five pounds. I assumed this contained the elements of this special spell he was so proud of.

He'd also devised a plan on how we would reach the waterfront undetected. It was a bit elaborate, involving a diversion from the ring of soldiers sealing the docks off from the rest of the city and using that excitement to mask our party's moving through the lines.

"Have you already asked the army for the diversion?"

"I have. It'll be the Tenth Hussars, and I've given the dom-ina a duplicate of this." He held up a hand, and showed me a rather ugly brass ring. "When I rub it, he'll feel a tingling on his own ring, and know it's time to begin his feint. We'll move forward from the lines of the Humayan Foot."

"I think I have a better idea... although your idea of the diversionary attack is good."

* "Go ahead," Tenedos said, with just a bit of frost, "I'm still learning to be a tactician."

"Sir, I think you missed the easy way."

"Which is?"

I pointed, and he swore at himself. "Of course! I should have seen it for myself. I'll summon a courier and tell the Humayan Foot not to expect us."

I'd pointed to the Latane River, gleaming in the setting sun, and had already procured five flat-bottomed boats whose sides barely stuck up above the waterline. We loaded into them, untied the moorings, and let the current take us into the heart of the enemy. All of us were dressed in dark clothing, wore daggers on our belts, and carried small packs with the other tools necessary for our strike.

There was enough light so we were never in doubt of where we were. I had the men stay low in the boats.

When we neared the Tovieti headquarters, I whispered to Tenedos to rub his ring. In a few moments, I heard the screech of battle as the Hussars launched the diversion, and we brought out oars, rowed to a ramshackle pier, and moored our boats.

We made sure we hadn't been spotted, then went straight toward the pier. The warehouses around us were fire-blackened, and I could smell the stench of unburied bodies.

The Tovieti may have been foolish about not abandoning their burrow, but at least they'd set human sentries out this time. There were three, and I almost felt sympathy for the poor, untrained fools. One actually whistled to himself in boredom, and the other moved back and forth in a regular manner, and the third stood close to the edge of the dock, staring fixedly across the river.

I touched sleeves—Yonge... Karjan .. . Svalbard—and they went forward, knives out. All I heard was one quiet splash as the third sentry's body was dropped into the river. The other two corpses were eased to the wood, and my three assassins were back beside me.

We found the hole where the lever should be inserted. Tene-

dos held up a hand: Wait. He touched his temples, touched the wood, and nodded. I should proceed. He'd sensed no magical alarms. Once more I felt with the butt of my dagger, found the socket and pried, and the hatch lifted noiselessly.

I still could not believe this wasn't a trap, but after a few seconds, when nothing happened, I started toward the ramp. Tenedos stopped me, and shook his head. He handed me his case, and went down the ramp first. For a moment I thought this was mere bravado, but then I realized, seeing him move so carefully, arms spread in front of him like a drunk trying to keep the world steady as he walks, that he was the right one to lead, the only one with a counterspell to stop any waiting Tovi-eti sorcery.

He stopped twice, each time taking something from his pouch and whispering a spell. The first time I saw nothing, but the second time the darkness glowed purple for just an instant, or perhaps it was an illusion.

The Tovieti masters had done a better job of guarding themselves than before.

We moved down the tunnel, then saw light and heard voices. There was no sentry at the mouth as before.

Evidently the Tovieti felt that magic was a more reliable guardian than steel. Tenedos took the case, and I crawled forward a few feet until I could peer into the chamber.

I counted seventeen men and women. They were gathered around a sand-table they'd used to model the dockyard area, talking in low tones, and pointing to various locations, obviously laying out the final attack, completely lost in their work. There were maps everywhere. If the seventeen had been in uniform, male, and a bit less disheveled, it would have looked exactly like any army planning session.

I slid back a few feet to my men, and held up a curled forefinger, thumb atop it. Everything was as it should be. The men drew their weapons. In one hand each of us had a knife, in the other a canvas tube full of sand. We'd kill if we must, but had hoped we wouldn't have to—corpses would be of no use.

We crowded together at the mouth of the tunnel. The men's * eyes were on me. Breathe... breathe...

breathe... my hand dropped and we charged into the room!

The Tovieti turned, saw us. There was a scream or two, and then we were on them, sandbags swinging.

Only a few of them had time to draw weapons, and they were either cut or clubbed down before making more than a couple of wild slashes. Two women ran for an exit. Accurately thrown sandbags dropped them.

Then there was no one left standing in the room except Lancers. I saw only one of my men down, unconscious or dead; another in trouble, on his knees, gasping for air where a chance kick had winded him. A few others had minor wounds, swiftly bound by their mates.

Scattered around us were the dead, unconscious, or wounded bodies of seventeen Tovieti leaders. We'd been amazingly successful, and so far I hadn't heard a hue and cry. But we had made some noise, and could have only a few more lucky moments.

The men were already taking precut lengths of rope from their packs, binding the hands and feet and gagging the twelve Tovieti who we thought would live. Of the others two were dead and the other three unlikely to survive. That was as Tenedos had ordered: Kill only if you have to. We wanted as many as possible able to talk.

The raid was, thus far, outstandingly successful, more so as the prone men groaned back to life and sat up.

I was privately less content—I'd hoped the Kallian Malebranche would be among the Tovieti, but he was absent. But then I saw the fat, bearded man who was the Nician leader of the sect lying bound on the floor, and next to him the Marchioness Fenelon, who glared hatred at us all.

I thought Tenedos would be happy, but he was looking about, worried. "Hurry," he said. "I sense something. Something coming."

We needed no urging, and in seconds had the bound men and women carried over-shoulder, and our own casualties were assisted back up the tunnel.

Then the ground rumbled and shook, as it had before, and I looked about, for signs of that fearsome mole-monster. I saw nothing, but the ground rumbled harder, bricks groaned and shrieked, and I heard the gush of water as the passageway was torn open and river water began to pour into it.

We went up the ramp at a run, the roaring torrent just behind us, and burst out into the night and safety, nothing behind us to show signs of the smuggler's cave but a dark, swirling pool.

The ground kept shaking, the wooden dock creaking, about to tear apart.

I looked downriver, toward the sea, and saw Thak!

I don't know where he'd hidden himself—underwater, in some warehouse or burrow or perhaps there was a door into his world somewhere out there.

On he came, clawed hands stretching for us, ready to crush, ready to tear, as he had in my nightmare, and I heard that screeching of unoiled metal and high shrilling I'd heard before in the Tovieti cavern in the Border States.

Now he was not orange and sun colors, but darkness and moonlight. Thak gathered enough light from the stars and sliver of moon to send darting slashes of illumination across the water and buildings as he crashed toward us. I heard cries of terror and joy as men and women saw their god, their destroyer.

A few of my men, those who hadn't been in the cavern and seen the demon before, were wavering, about to flee.

"Stand fast!" I shouted, and my shout brought them back into the chains of discipline, and they dropped our captives and made ready to fight, pinprick knives against a monster.

Tenedos was busy opening that case. Flashing bits of light revealed those bits of glass, held somehow within the confines of a smaller circle and triangle.

Tenedos took a fragment in each hand, and stood, holding his arms toward Thak, who was now no more than a hundred yards distant, his hellish keening louder in expectant triumph. Tenedos began chanting, and his voice boomed across the river, louder even than the demon's death song:

* "Little voices Little spells Spells that broke Spells that smashed. You are an echo An echo of another Who in turn Reflects another's voice. Now come Come together. Touch your brother. Feel your brother. You are one You are mine Mine to hold Mind to send. You are mine I fathered thee Now you must obey.

"Ahela, Mahela, Lehander "I hold you I order you I send you. Seek your target Seek your enemy. Seek it out As you were taught. Strike now Strike hard Strike as one."

I don't quite know how to explain what I saw, but something rose from that case, just as I belatedly r

understood what the spell was, that each of those bits of glass had been the result of a shattering spell cast by one of the Chare Brethren, combined by Tenedos as symbols to create one enormously powerful incantation, which had smashed that marble statue ia its test What I saw was barely visible, shimmering like heat above a fire, but this had a form, a shape, a rough V. I saw it, then I saw it not, but felt a wind rush, and barrels on the dock between us and Thak were bowled aside as the spell rushed toward its target.

Thak must have seen or sensed doom rushing upon him, for he reared back, holding up his hands in front of him. But the spell struck true, the crystalline "singing" crashed into discordance, like a million, million goblets crashing onto stone, and then it cut suddenly, and Thak exploded, exploded like a huge stone that had been cut by a master jeweler, examined and found flawed, and smashed with a great hammer in a fit of rage.

There was a rain of fragments, fragments that vanished even as they fell, and then Thak was gone.

"Now it is over," Tenedos said in the stillness.

TWENTY-TWO Civil War But it wasn't over. Not yet. There were still Tovieti to hunt down and destroy. Once again, Elias Male-branche had slipped away. Kutulu could find no traces of him in Nicias.

Tenedos shrugged. "He's fled to his last bolt-hole. He... and his master... don't realize it, but their time has run out."

It was still cruel, still nasty—the Tovieti who refused to vanish fought as bitterly as any fanged beast does when tracked to its lair. But we found them, and we killed them, although more soldiers died in the process. In these final days, Tenedos's hellhound Kutulu was given his own nickname by the broadsheets: The Serpent Who Never Sleeps. The fear his name brought was to grow and grow.

Nicias, a city half in ruins, was at peace once more. Now would come retribution and blame. I privately expected the people of the city to turn against the army and especially Seer Tenedos after the brutal suppression. But they didn't. He was once more a hero, a great man. I puzzled, but Maran, who I was learning was far more perceptive than her age might suggest, said she wasn't surprised. "The people did things they don't want to remember doing, so whoever really did what happened, well, they're someone else, someone different. All the seer did was destroy those horrible, different people so the

common people can be happy again." I realized that yes, people did think, or rather not think, like that So I merely shook my head when the army was cheered every time it rode out, and once again I was Damastes the Hero.

The Rule of Ten proclaimed a "time of healing," and no doubt would have gotten on with rebuilding with never a finger-point of blame, a convenient policy since they were far guiltier for the riots than any Tovieti or Kallian.

But Tenedos would have none of that. He called for a tribunal, but the Rule of Ten quickly responded that they'd have hearings on whether or not that should be allowed Perhaps the matter might have ended there, but once again the Rule of Ten's ineptness showed.

Nicias was starving to death, even though food was coming into the city by the day in great barge-loads.

The rice, the meat, the fruit were being off-loaded into warehouses ... and there it sat. Unless, of course, you had the right amount of gold. The rich, as always, ate well.

Once more the city rumbled with disquiet. This time, Tenedos didn't wait for the Rule of Ten to fumble with a response. No one had rescinded his special orders, and so he sent out elements of the Frontier divisions with orders to smash into the warehouses and take the food. He set up distribution centers throughout the city, manned by other soldiers, and the city ate—for free. Tenedos was no longer a hero, but a demigod.

Nicias's profiteers whined loudly to the Rule of Ten, but they were frightened to stand against Tenedos.

Again Tenedos called for the tribunal, and the Rule of Ten was forced to give in. They took the opportunity to let him hopefully hang himself, and named him head inquirer, supposing, I guess, he'd muck up matters and show his incompetence. How they imagined a man who'd spent as much time in public debate as he had would ruin things was beyond me.

Their second weapon, calling for the tribunal to meet in camera, was blunted; Tenedos announced the hearings would be held in the city's greatest amphitheater. All would be welcome to come and see, and judge for themselves.

* The Rule of Ten fumed but could do little. Their utter incompetence was very clear now—they still hadn't been able to name replacements, but buried themselves in bickering, with Barthou determined to find acolytes even more toadying than the ones slain in the riots. Scopas, according to Tenedos, tried to stand up to Barthou, less, the seer thought, from patriotism than from the desire to make sure his own powers weren't lessened.

But the date of the tribunal was set, less than a week distant. Two things of interest happened during that time.

Mardn had returned to her home beside the river. One morning, I received a note, asking if I could attend her at a certain hour. Unusually, she asked me to leave my horse at the public stables a block away, and come to the rear of the estate, where there was a small back entrance. A servant would be waiting.

There was but one door in the huge blank expanse behind her mansion. I tapped on it, and the door swung open. A rather plain-faced woman I thought I'd seen serving tidbits at Maran's salon told me to follow her. I saw, in front of the house, a long line of freight wagons, and heard men shouting.

The woman led me in a circuitous path through the gardens of the house, to a rear entrance, and through the kitchens. The scullery workers and cooks were very busy, too busy about their work to pay me the slightest mind.

The woman bade me wait for a moment, peered through a door, then said, "Hurry," and we scurried across a bare corridor and up curving back stairs to the solarium where Maran and I had danced to the secret music of our hearts.

Maran was the only one in the room, and the woman bowed once more and left. I started to embrace her, but something in the way she was standing said I should not.

"Come here," she said. "Look down there."

I gazed down on that line of wagons, piled high with books, tables, wardrobes, and other furniture.

Teamsters busied themselves packing the vehicles, and there was a man supervising them. It took a moment, for I'd met him but once, then I recognized Maran's husband, Count Hernad Lavedan.

"He returned four days ago, and attempted to enter. I had my servants drive him away, and ordered him to have all his possessions out of here by this day or else I would have them piled in the drive and burnt.

"The last is being loaded at this moment."

I saw that Lavedan was holding a small case in his hand, and remembered the small ship model he'd been so proud of. He handed it to one driver, who put it carefully on the floor of the wagon. The other teamsters were climbing into the wagons, and I faintly heard the cracking of whips. The wagons snaked out of the driveway and drove away down the street.

Count Lavedan walked to his horse, stopped, and looked up at the house. For a long moment he stared, and I fancied he could see me. Ironically, I felt like flinching, even though I didn't fear him. I suppose it was because I still felt it was his wife I was in love with, and I was a trespasser. Then he mounted, and rode off, not looking back.

Maran stared after him, until he turned a corner and was gone.

"Now I live alone," she said, her tone flat. I couldn't see her face, but knew it held that strange expression of a puppy awaiting punishment.

After a while, I said, carefully, "You don't have to—unless you wish it."

She turned to me.

"Damastes, are you sure of what you are saying? If you move in here, you'll be revealed as the cause of my husband's shame. He knows I'm having an affair—he told me so—but I don't think he knows with who yet.

"The Lavedans are a powerful family, and I know he'll go after you with every device he can imagine, and try to destroy you and your career.

"Am I worth that?" Her expression suggested she didn't think she was.

I could have answered reasonably, saying I'd already * reached a far greater rank than I had dreamed of and was content. I could have said, after the acclaim the rabble showered on me, that I doubted if the count, a man who had cut and run during the crisis, would, at least for the near future, be a danger. Even later, what could he do at the worst, but have me reduced to my former rank of captain and sent to one of the Frontier regiments, my constant dream? I could have answered logically, but, instead I said, "In a soldier's words, fuck him and the horse he rode in on."

A tiny smile touched Maran's lips, then vanished. "You might make another, more dangerous enemy," she went on. "I don't know what my family will think of all this— I sent a long letter to Irrigon after I'd returned, not naming you, of course. I don't know if it was received, and am about to compose another one, since I've had no reply.

"I'm sure they'll feel the Agramdnte name is disgraced by my behavior, and may well seek revenge on the evil cocksman who brought me down. Are you prepared for that? I must add the Agramontes are vastly more powerful than the Lavedans have ever dreamed."

I made no answer, but took her hand, and led her to the side of the room, where a thick rug lay. My eyes never left hers as my fingers undressed her, very slowly. I removed my own clothes. I kissed her lips gently, then bent farther and kissed her nipples. Her breath tickled the back of my neck.

I laid her down gently on the rug, knelt over her, and she brought her knees up and apart. I kissed her clitoris, and ran my tongue into her. She shuddered, and her hands moved in my long hair as it fell across her thighs. I moved upward, and my cock glided into her, as if of its own will. We moved together, both of us with our eyes open, slowly, the wave lifting us gently, then breaking and I felt her throbbing around me.

"I guess," she said, after our breathing slowed, "that's an answer, isn't it?"

It was more than an answer, it was the beginning of a pact.

We lay comfortably together.

"I'm having carpenters and painters in tomorrow," she said.

"There'll be no traces left of him when they're finished. Do you wish to have anything to say about the redecorating?"

"How can I? This is your house, not mine."

"If you live here, my Damastes, it is ours."

I kissed her. "Very well. I have but one request. We should have but a single bedroom. Make it this one, if you would, here where we danced. I love the sun on our bodies."

"I was hoping for that," she whispered. "I never understood why he never wanted to just sleep with me. To hold me. I didn't understand that and... and some other things." She shuddered and turned the subject slightly. "What of his office? What do you wish done about that?"

"I don't care. Turn it into a nursery."

Her eyes widened in surprise, then she giggled. "La, sir, you do presume."

"Do I?" I murmured, my cock suddenly rigid. I thrust hard, deep, and she gasped and her hands pulled at my back. I lifted her knees against my chest, and laid hard on her, my hands cupping her buttocks as we crashed together, both of us shouting aloud at the final moment.

The broadsheets may have been incompetent at reporting the actual events of Numantia unless the Rule of Ten dictated it, but they were most skilled at scandal.

I'd no sooner moved Lucan, Rabbit, and my few possessions into Marfn's house ... our house, as I kept reminding myself, without effect, being in fact the poorest as well as the youngest of all Numantia's dominas, yet resident in a great mansion not of my building, when our romance was trumpeted across the city. Now all knew me as Damastes the Fair, Damastes the Seducer, Damastes the Despoiler of Innocent Brides and Cuckolder of the Rich.

I heard snickers in the large tent the Lancers' officers used for a mess, which of course I could never acknowledge or challenge, even if I wished to. I know not who talked—possibly some sharp-eyed soldiers from the Helms, more likely a servant or two who wished some silver to add to his wages. I didn't seek the scalawag out; everyone lusts after scandal, and if it hadn't been leaked by one, it would have been by another.

Tenedos jested with me as well: "Damastes the Fair. Well, Domina, you certainly are amassing a reputation once more. Now the city's lovelies have testimony that you have two long swords at your disposal."

All of the lonelies and fame-seekers who'd importuned me before redoubled their efforts to woo me or at least have the pleasure of spending an afternoon with me, and now their suggestions and desires were most explicit.

"But don't they realize I'm happy with the woman I'm with? Otherwise, why the scandal?"

"If they don't mind a bit on the side, as most of them seem to suggest," Tenedos said, "why should you?

You're just a man, aren't you? Don't all of us spend most of our time trying to fornicate with anything that moves?"

"I, sir, am no Nician."

"It's not a bad reputation to have," he said thoughtfully, although I noticed that, as far as I knew, he remained faithful to Rasenna in those days.

But that was not the second event of interest.

The demon was no larger than my thumb, and looked more like a tiger-fanged seal with four arms than any conventional fiend. It hissed when I came near.

"What is he?" I wondered.

"A useful little fiend," Tenedos said. "At the moment, he is about to be a miner for gold."

"It looks like quite a task for him," I said skeptically.

"He'll seek but one coin," Tenedos said. "I'll use that to obtain others. That is, if there's anything where I hope it to be." He bent over the tiny creature and chanted:

"Hararch Felag Meelash M'rur."

The demon squeaked something in an equally incomprehensible language and dove into the water.

Tenedos had asked if I could take an hour to witness something I might find interesting, and bade me attend him at the dock where the Tovieti hideout had been.

The wooden hatch still yawned wide, exposing a dark, oily expanse of water that had filled the passage when Thak had shaken the earth.

When I arrived, the demon had already been summoned, and allowed outside his small pentagram. Beside that was a greater figure, an eight-pointed star almost the size of a freight wagon, with various-sized circles and symbols carved into the dock's wooden timbers. An open trunk with Tenedos's paraphernalia stood beside it, and, not far away, a squad of soldiers waited by a large wagon with eight bullocks hitched to it.

I asked what the hells was going on, and Tenedos said, "I have been considering our mutual embarrassment of wealth, my friend. Even though we keep company with the nobility, and our ladies are quite rich, neither you nor I has a pot to piss in nor a window to pour it out of."

That was certainly true of myself, but I doubted Tenedos was as poor.

"I propose to rectify this matter... I hope. Examine my logic, if you will. The Tovieti were ... are a secret order, are they not?"

"Obvious."

"Have you ever heard of a secret order who didn't have vast riches?"

"No... but I never saw any order's wealth, either. Of course, the only such group I was ever around were the stran-glers, so I can't generalize. But isn't anybody who's secretive rumored to be rich? I remember an old hermit who lived in the hills behind one of my father's farms. Everyone knew him to be fabulously wealthy, but when he died all they found was a scrap of silk, two brass coins, and a spoon."

"Ah, but we know the Tovieti amass wealth," Tenedos said.

* "We have heard how they are encouraged to loot their victims and we saw great mounds of it in the cavern in Kait, did we not? Well, no such trove has been uncovered from the Nician stranglers, and I thought I'd take a few hours to show my greedy, mercenary self."

I realized we were both babbling a little, neither of our eyes leaving the surface of the murky water where the demon had vanished.

"I propose to share any of my findings with you, Damastes, since you were the first to discover this lair."

I was utterly astonished, and from the smile on Tenedos's face I knew I'd had the reaction he'd expected.

"I... I thank you, sir. But you owe me nothing."

"I owe you what I choose to owe you, sir. And by the way, this is in no way repayment of that debt, but rather my decision to simplify life for the both of us."

I stammered something, more thanks, then, "Actually, Kutulu found its entrance first," I managed. "Since you're being so generous, shouldn't he be included while we're gleefully dividing up all this so-far-invisible gold? He'd be welcome to half of my probably nonexistent half."

"I asked him," Tenedos said, suddenly turning sober, "and he said he had little use for money. I fear I know what he wants, and it's something no one, not even myself, will be able to grant. Ah... here's my sprite now."

The tiny monster surfaced, holding, clenched in its claw, a single gold coin!

"Come up, come up, my little friend," Tenedos said, and the spirit sprang from the water onto the wooden decking. Tenedos said something in that tongue, and the demon answered.

"Very good, very good, so there's much, much more down there, eh?" the wizard said. "Now, I am in your debt, which you may require the repayment of at any time." He said more in the demon's language, and it scuttled back into the pentan-gle, turned, spun, my eyes ached, and the pentangle was empty.

Tenedos was turning the coin in his fingers.

"Interesting. It's not a Numantian coin, or anyway not one which I've ever seen. Suddenly my conscience is lightened, because I'd worried that perhaps we'd have to be honorable, and make repayment to anyone who's heirs of the stranglers' victims.

"I could see the circular: 'Will the owner of a certain gold coin please form a line at the Palace of the Rule of Ten?' Perhaps this gold isn't even from Nician victims, but part of a general hoard Thak amassed. I doubt if we'll ever know, nor shall I make close inquiry.

"Now, we shall see what we shall see." He put the coin in the center of the star, and paced back and forth, muttering. "Woodruff for luck... pomegranate—prosperity... almond for the gods' blessing... and the two real herbs, clover and basil."

He took vials from his chest, and sprinkled herbs into the four braziers set around the star. He lit them, and fragrant fumes filled the air. I noted, not for the first time, that the tiny amount of spices used in a ceremony should not spread so widely, but they always did. It was if I were in a pomegranate grove, with almond trees nearby, and basil growing wild underfoot.

"This will be an interesting spell," Tenedos said, and began chanting:

"Gather my friends Join your brother. You're of the sun. Rise now Linger not. Your tomb is dark Your tomb is dank. Join your brother As I touched him Let me touch you. Rise now Rise up. The sun waits to caress you."

Nothing happened for some moments. "If I believed in the possibility of resurrecting the dead," Tenedos commented, "I'd worry about this spell working on the wrong matter. We did leave some corpses down there when we departed so hastily, and I imagine they would have fondled any riches. I'd hate to have them shamble out of the slime down there. But it looks as my spirit was either mistaken or mischievous, since nothing—"

Tenedos had spoken too soon, as the area above the star shimmered, and men gold cascaded out of nowhere. There were gems, gold bars, coins, statuettes. The pile grew and grew until it was nearly the height of a man.

I heard shouts of amazement from the soldiers.

Tenedos stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"It would appear, my good Damastes," he said, "while we are tied to one Wheel for the nature and length of our lives, we have just freed ourselves from another, the Wheel of worry for our daily bread." He grinned, and I saw a flash of what the boy named Laish might have looked like before he chose to don the solemn robes of a sorcerer.

"We're rich!"

And so we were.

Tenedos betrayed me later in many ways, but I still must remember this day. He could have called up the gold and kept it and I would never have thought anything else should have been done.

But he willingly chose to share it, and again I'm reminded the seer was perhaps the most complex man ever to be given life by Msu.

Nothing to match the tribunal had occurred in Nicias, at least not within memory. For the first time the commoners were given a glimpse of how their rulers thought and talked, and of the decisions they made.

Tenedos ran the proceedings as if he were the judge, not Barthou and the Rule of Ten. Aided by Kutulu's wardens, he produced witness after witness, who described how the Tovi-

eti had slowly entered Nicias, slipping into each layer of society as subtly as their stranglers slid the yellow silk cord around their victims' necks, precisely laying their plans for the uprising.

I saw with disgust that most of the prisoners were in sad shape. It was more than evident that Kutulu's interrogators had used more than words in their interrogations. I liked it little, but force is the custom with our wardens, which is foolish since a man under torture will confess to anything to make the pain stop.

What was not the custom was that all of them had been tortured, rich or poor. When the Marchioness Fenelon was put on the stand, she began what was obviously a rote confession, memorized at the coaching of her tormentors. She became more and more emotional, and suddenly broke.

"Counselor Barthou! You cannot believe what they did to me," she shrieked. "I was treated as dirt by these pigs, these wardens! Look what they did to me! Just look!" She held up clawed hands, and I saw where her fingernails had been torn out. "How could they do this? How could they?"

Barthou made no answer, but turned his head away, and two wardens dragged her from the stand. She never reappeared, and I am ignorant of her final fate. I made no inquiries, either, and it was as if the woman had never existed. A trai-toress she was, but did she deserve this end? I do not know, and am grateful I've never sat the bench or had to apply anything other than the crudest, most immediate justice, following the clean, sharp laws of the military.

The tormented ones were not the most telling. That testimony came from the bearded, fat man I'd seen in the smuggler's den, who looked like a district grocer but was head of the entire Tovieti organization in Nicias. His name turned out to be Cui Garneau, as plain as his appearance. He told the inquirers absolutely everything, freely volunteering the most damaging information. He confessed to murder after murder, not only by others, but by his own hand, and spoke of his pleasure in serving Thak as he pulled taut the yellow silk cord. His

tales went on and on, and even the bloodthirsty writers for the broadsheets sickened. It hadn't mattered to him; he told with equal relish of strangling a newborn infant and a doddering, senile beldam.

It appeared he'd undergone no torture, and I inquired of Tenedos why he was so cooperative. Wasn't he aware he was surely dooming himself, or didn't he care?

"No one has laid a finger on him," Tenedos verified. "In fact, he's living in a cell more luxurious than these apartments, although it matters not at all to him.

"You'll see this again, Damastes. He served one master passionately, so that nothing else existed. When I destroyed that master, Thak, his world was shattered. He turned for something to cling to, and found me. Since I had power enough to annihilate Thak, he now wishes to serve me. The best way he can do that is to tell everything.

"The odd thing is that he may well live to a ripe old age. I myself will vote to keep him alive, so future historians or even the curious can visit him and find that this great conspiracy wasn't a mad illusion, but something very real, very deadly.

"My only problem is turning his words away from an enemy who no longer exists, Thak, to one that must be confronted. Chardin Sher. I also wish he knew details of other Tovieti branches in Numantia, but he claims ignorance, saying mat no one but Thak knew that."

As a matter of fact, Tenedos was partially correct, but only partially. When the trial was finished, Cui Garneau was sentenced to death, but the sentence immediately commuted, one of only four. But Garneau didn't live out the year. Walking outside the cell he'd been assigned to, his guards' attention diverted for a moment, three convicted murderers beat him to death with iron clubs they'd concealed under their rags. There are some crimes, and criminals, that even the most evil of men cannot tolerate, I suppose.

Having heard Tenedos's strategy, I began attending the tribunal more regularly, and little by little saw how he was leading all testimony toward that arch villain, Chardin Sher.

The Rule of Ten squirmed, not wanting to have such information known, fearing they'd actually be required to do something. But their wishes didn't matter. Day by day the evidence was presented: Malebranche attended such and so a meeting, gave out a certain amount of gold, gave encouraging speeches, on and on. Kutulu had ransacked Malebranche's apartments. The Kallian had burned his correspondence before fleeing, but hadn't bothered to crush or remove the ashes.

Seers cast spells, and little by little the ashes formed into burned paper, then what the fire had taken from them was given back, and they were as legible as the hour they'd been tossed into the flames. Chardin Sher had been careful in his letters—he'd hardly been fool enough to say, "I wish such and so number of people to be murdered on this and that a date," or "If enough die in Nicias the Rule of Ten will be forced to abdicate or call for a strong man to take the throne," but his treacherous desires and traitorous orders could be easily translated from the vague phrases he used.

I was waiting for a protest to arrive from Kallio, or, more likely, an outraged delegation. But none came.

Instead, General Turbery reported, in secret session, that the Kallians were calling up their reserves and moving their armies toward the border. Units loyal to Numantia were broken up, or disarmed and confined to barracks. Those closest to the border managed to flee to safety, but that was no more than two regiments of foot.

I could no longer spend time at the tribunal. I knew what must come next, what my duties would be, unless something truly outrageous happened and once more the Rule of Ten were able to avoid responsibility.

The Rule of Ten writhed and squirmed, but Tenedos had the hook truly sunk.

The tribunal came to an end. All of the Tovieti, save four, were sentenced to die, and went to their fate within the week. That was as grisly a sight as Numantia had ever known—more than men and women were hung on long gallows built to accommodate fifty at a time, and special executioners hired to * work the drops. Grisly, and awful, because the hangmen, often as not, were ignorant and drunk. Instead of the quick drop and the dry snap of a neck breaking, the Tovieti kicked and fought their way out of their bodies and back to the Wheel, a slower death than they'd given their victims. But it was much worse when the rope was too long, or they were too heavy, so when the rope snapped taut their heads were ripped away as bloodily as a farmer pulls a chicken's head off.

When the thrashing had ended, the bodies were cut down, and taken to long common graves. They were covered with oil, and sorcerers cast fire spells so the bodies were utterly consumed, not only so there'd be no martyr's relics for the few Tovieti survivors, but also to keep the ashes, ropes, and such from being used for black magic by other evil ones.

Tenedos called a special meeting of the Rule of Ten the day after the last Tovieti died. Once more it was to be held in the amphitheater.

Tenedos was the only speaker, and he spoke for almost four hours. His speech was simple, and his point constantly reiterated: A decision must be reached. Now, in this coliseum, today. Today, or once more the wrath of the people might voice itself. Kallio, and Chardin Sher, must be brought to justice.

At this the packed arena roared, and the Rule of Ten knew the people had to drink blood that day. It would be theirs—or the Kallians'.

They acceded, sending a special message by heliograph to the Kallian capital of Polycittara. Chardin Sher was to surrender himself to the nearest Numantian Army post to be immediately conveyed to Nicias in chains, to answer for his terrible crimes.

There'd be but one answer.

Kutulu never appeared on the stand during the tribunal, nor was his name mentioned. I encountered him in Tenedos's office, sorting through yet another pile of files, and wondered why he hadn't made an appearance.

"There was no need, Damastes my friend," and to tell the

truth his feeling of friendship for me was a bit upsetting. This was the man who'd coldly, carefully, assembled files that sent several thousand people to their deaths, either by drum patrol or tribunal, yet appeared completely unchanged. But I supposed it was better to have him thinking well of me than otherwise, although I knew then if he ever thought I would break my still-unspoken oath to Tenedos he'd hunt me down and see me punished as callously as he'd seen to the butchery of the Tovieti.

"So what comes next?" I asked. "I can't see you returning to being just another warden."

"I shan't," he agreed. "Seer Tenedos has already requested my permanent reassignment to him, as one of his aides."

"But the rioting is over," I said. "What need does he have of a private lawman?'

"The rioting is over," Kutulu said, and his voice lowered. "But the greater task has only begun."

In spite of the summer heat, I felt a chill.

It was the custom of the rich of Nicias to lounge abed until everything, from bath to breakfast, was prepared for them. Then all that was necessary was to step out of the huge new bed and walk about, accepting robe, bath, scrub brush, clothes, food from servants who, Maran advised me, I was supposed to find invisible.

"At all times?' I complained once when one of them had walked in while I was taking a peaceful shit. I'd bellowed and chased her out—I hadn't had to suffer my privacy being invaded like this since I was a boy at the lycee or in the field on maneuvers.

"At all times," Maran said firmly. "It's one way we high-class sorts separate ourselves from you common swine."

"Even when we're doing something like this?" I growled, then rolled her over and bit her on the buttocks.

She yelped and matters were about to proceed from there when there was a knock, and her personal maid entered.

She carried a tray, and there was an envelope on it. It was the long-awaited, much-feared letter from Maran's father.

Maran huddled next to me, staring at it. "We'll never know what it says until we open it," I told her.

Reluctantly she ripped the seal off and took out the four pages. Maran began reading, and her eyes widened. I thought it was even worse than we'd prepared ourselves for. She finished and handed it to me. "I do not believe it," she said. I read it, and felt as she did.

I'd expected her father to write a scathing note, damning her for her behavior and rubbing her face in her shame. Instead, the letter was quite reasoned. He was sorry her marriage had come to an end, but was not surprised. In fact, he was quite pleased. He had never found the Count Lavedan to be truly worthy of the nobility. He said the only reason he'd agreed to the matcli—and he apologized for not telling his youngest daughter this before—was because of an old and large debt owed by the Agramontes to the Lavedans.

' knew about that" Maran murmured, rereading the letter over my shoulder. "Hernad boasted of it after we were married. He didn't say what it was ... but I gather it involved something embarrassing."

"That's pretty damned awful," I said. Maran shrugged. "The nobility marries for other reasons than love as often as not. I guess that's why so many of us take lovers. And why are you surprised? Doesn't a peasant marry his daughter to a man who owns a bullock so he's no longer forced to drag the plow himself?"

The letter went on. Maran could do exactly as she wished: stay in Nicias, even (hough her father thought that was far too dangerous, even though the mob seemed to have been put in its place by the army, or return home to Irrigon. He would have the family's bankers contact her immediately, and ensure she had full recourse to any gold she needed to properly maintain the Agramonte image, should she decide to stay in the capital. He said he knew she could well be depressed by events, so she was not to worry about money. She could spend like a wastrel until the day she died, and never cut into the Agramonte fortune.