r

The last lines really surprised me, coming from a man I envisioned as the most reactionary of country lords, a man who barely would admit to his own humanity, let alone anyone else's: It's hard, my daughter, for an old man such as myself to say how much he loves you, and has always loved you. You came as a surprise in the autumn of my years, and perhaps I haven't cherished you as I should.

You are the dearest in my heart, and I want you to know now, when times are bad, that I stand completely behind you.

Our concern with the Lavedans has come to an end, and we shall have no further dealings with the family. I have already sent letters to our family's representatives in Nicias, with orders your marriage is to be legally annulled as rapidly as possible, with the minimum of notoriety. I don't care how or why things happened as they did, nor whose fault it was, although in my heart I wish to believe it was your former husband's. If any of the Lavedans attempt to make a scandal of that matter, rest assured I shall deal with them personally. I love you and will support you in everything you wish to do, without censure, without blame.

Your father, Datus I put the letter down.

"So what do we do now?" Maran said, looking as shocked as if the letter had disowned her.

"You can keep on being the rich Countess Agramdnte," I said. "And I could go back to biting you on the butt," I offered.

She grinned.

"You could do that... or anything else that comes to mind," and she laid back on the bed most invitingly.

I barely had time to spend every other night with Maran, being busy getting the Lancers ready for the months to come.

I'd not, in fact, even been able to attend Seer Tenedos's great speech in the amphitheater.

Troop Guide Karjan came to me and said he was fed up with being a warrant. He wanted to return to just serving me.

I told him to get the hell out of my office, I was busy.

"Sir," he said, "I so'jered like you wanted in th' 'mergency. Now there's no more riotin'. Everybody else is gettin' medals. Why can't I have th' one thing I want?"

I said there was no way in the world a troop guide would be permitted to be servant to a domina. I didn't think even generals could have servants of that high a rank.

He looked thoughtful, saluted, and left.

That night he found one of the bars the Golden Helms drank in, walked in, and announced none of them were fit to drink with a real soldier. Ten men charged him, and he managed to beat up six before they knocked him to the floor. The four survivors made the mistake of turning their backs and ordering a celebratory flagon of wine. Karjan rose up, seized a bench, and put all four of them in the infirmary.

Then he proceeded to destroy the wineshop.

Five army provosts showed up, and he piled them up with the shattered Helms, and two teams of wardens, four in each team after that. He was settling into a definite rhythm when the wineshop keeper's wife came up with a smile, a flask of wine ... and a small club hidden behind her back.

Resignedly I paid Karjan's fine, took him out of prison, and, in front of the assembled Lancers, tore away his rank slashes and reduced him to horseman.

I don't think I'd seen a happier man in months. Karjan actually smiled, revealing he had taken some damage in the battle royal—there were a couple of gaps where teeth had been.

I sighed, told him to assemble his gear and report to my house. Once more I had a servant.

That night, at the mess, Legate Bikaner told me there'd been a pool set as to how long Karjan would hold his rank slashes. It wasn't the first time he'd been promoted, nor the first time he'd calculatedly done something to make sure he was reduced to the ranks.

"Anything higher than lance," Bikaner said, "and he gets upset."

"Who won the bet?"

"One of the new legates," Bikaner said. "It certainly wasn't me. I had my money on one week after being promoted. Guess he thinks a lot of you, sir."

"There," she said, slipping me out of her mouth. "Now we can go to the next step." She was breathing almost as hard as I was.

"Why can't you just keep doing what you were doing?"

"Because we're going to do something new, and it's always you showing me. Now it's my turn."

"Very well. What do I do? Before I get soft, I mean."

"You could drill holes in the wall with that thing," she said. She straddled me, and guided me into her, gasping as I lifted my hips and plunged farther into her body.

"Don't do that," she managed. "Now, sit up, and cross your legs behind me. Put your arms around me, so I don't fall. If you start laughing I swear I'll slay you."

Maran moved her legs around me until she sat as I was.

"Now what?" I wondered. "What do we do next?"

"We don't do anything, we just sit like this ... no, don't move, dammit... and then we're supposed to come together."

"What is this, more of Amiel's sex-magic?"

"No," she said. "But it is from another book of hers I read once."

"Are you sure you took good notes? I mean, this is nice, but nothing's happening. Have you ever tried this before?"

"Shut up. That's none of your business. Of course I haven't! Who would I have to do it with, you bastard?

"You're supposed to concentrate. Pretend that all you are is cock, is what the book said."

We sat together in silence. I honestly tried to obey her orders, closing everything out of my mind, and feeling every « inch of myself inside her. I honestly thought it was silly, but concentrated, and then I could feel my cock's head, just touching her womb opening, her inner lips curling around me, feel each inch of the shaft where it touched wet folds, felt my balls against her outer lips.

Maran gasped. "Don't move, I said!" 'Tm not! I didn't! Now you're moving." "No I'm not," she said, "not down there." Now she was panting, and her legs pulled tight against my back. "Oh, gods," she moaned. I vow I was perfectly still, but I could feel blood roaring, and the world narrowed until all I knew was Maran's breasts mashed against my chest, my tongue in her mouth and her hot warmth pulling me deep into her and even that vanished in this strange, sudden gift of the gods.

It took me a long while to come back, and I found myself lying beside her. We were both drenched in sweat and I felt as helpless as a newborn kitten.

"You can borrow that book again if you want. That was kind of... interesting," I managed.

"Mmm," she mmmed, and we lay quietly, she pulling gently at the still-sparse hairs on my chest. "Will there be war?" she said suddenly. "That's a hell of a question at a time like this." "Will there?" I sighed.

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

"Afraid? Don't lie to me, Damastes. I know you're a soldier, and I know you'll go off to fight. That's what your life is, what it always will be, I guess." "Yes."

"When you do," she said, "I hope I am carrying your baby." I felt very proud, but very unsure as well.

Before Mar&i I'd never considered children, feeling that I'd most likely marry when I retired from the service, if I lived that long, and would father the appropriate number of descendants as my father and grandfather had.

"I would love to have your son," she said.

K

"What's the matter with daughters?" "Nothing. Later. First a boy."

"And you said I was forward," I complained. An idea came. I started to discard it as if not foolish, certainly sudden and premature. But my mouth was obeying its own laws, and I said, "But I can't see any of my children being bastards."

"Don't worry about that," Maran said. "No acknowledged child of an Agramonte is a bastard." "That wasn't what I meant." "You mean ..."

"I mean. Countess Maran Agramonte, would you consent to wed a poor domina of cavalry who would do nothing more than adore you for as long as Msu allows him foot on this earth? I love you, you know."

There was a long silence, and I realized Maran was crying. I felt monstrous, not knowing what I'd done wrong. "I'm sorry, my love. I didn't mean to offend." "You didn't, oh, Damastes, you didn't. You never can. But... did you know no one ever proposed to me? It just sort of became a given sort of thing I'd marry.

"Isn't it funny? I can't remember anybody, except my mother and maybe a nurse or two, saying they loved me, not ever. Hernad never did. Then you say it to me, and then my father says it..." She began crying again. I held her until the storm passed.

"You know," I said, "if it bothers you, I can withdraw the question. I mean, it's probably mad to even think about something like that. You've got all of the stuff to go through getting your marriage annulled, and I've heard that nobody is supposed to marry on the rebound, not for a while, at least, and—"

"Shut up, Damastes. The answer is yes. Of course I'll marry you."

As she spoke, I was one with the gods, almost crying,

myself, in joy. She went on:

"You know it can't happen at once. No matter how skilled my father's factors are, it'll take time for the annulment," she * said. "Since I'm an Agramonte, the matter will have to go before the Rule of Ten. I'm sorry."

"Don't," I said. "It'll give me a reason to fight hard, so I can come back to you."

"Not too hard," she said. "Because you must come back."

"Oh, I shall, I shall." I may have been young and full of foolish bravado, but I knew I'd come through the war unscathed, and I don't know how I knew it.

"So we are engaged," she said. "We should do something to celebrate."

"I know just the thing," I said.

"I know you do," she said throatily, lifting her legs around my waist as I grew within her. "I know you do."

If I could have reached out and stopped time just then, I would have, lying as we were, me still inside her, feeling the moisture of love on our thighs. I wish now it had been possible; pain, sorrow and betrayal would never have happened.

But I couldn't, and they did.

Three days later, the response came from Chardin Sher. The special envoy returned, on a stretcher. His tongue had been torn out.

Now it was civil war, and the declaration came within hours.

General Rechin Turbery, having experience fighting the Kallians, chose to lead the campaign personally.

The elite units brought to Nicias would be sent against the Kallians, as well as all other regiments who were able to be moved from their area of responsibility.

This war would not be fought by bits and pieces, but as a mighty sledgehammer. It wasn't quite civil war, but close enough so it had to be settled quickly and harshly.

Everyone knew that our supposedly friendly neighbor, King Bairan of Maisir, would be very concerned with the course of events, and any weakness on the part of the Rule of Ten might well spark interest about our vulnerability.

K

But the best came last. Seer Laish Tenedos was named to a new post: sorcerer of the army. He would have as many staffers as he wished, and was responsible only to General Turbery.

Now, finally, he would have the chance to develop his strategies and tactics.

Now we might see a new kind of war.

It was a gray morning, not yet dawn, with cold mist blowing off the river. Horseman Karjan had both Lucan and Rabbit packed and ready. He politely sat his horse, looking away from the house as Maran and I came out.

I kissed her, and never wanted the kiss to end.

I wondered if this was all history, a man kissing a woman good-bye and going away to fight, and wondered why we so loved to kill each other.

I put the thought aside and kissed her once again.

Again, I saw that look of a hurt animal, and turned away.

I walked to Lucan and stepped up into the saddle.

Margin watched me, her face utter misery, her hands clasped in front of her.

I clucked to Lucan, and he moved off, Karjan behind us. I turned as we went out the gate, onto the street, and watched her never-moving form until it disappeared in the river mists.

And the war reached out and took me.

TWENTY-THREE Disaster at the Imru River m

eneral Turbery had requisitioned every available "T| craft to carry us upriver to Cicognara, at the head of ^t_ -*«*"• Latane River's delta. There, the army would assemble and march east toward the Kallian border.

I didn't see Tenedos—he was on the flagship with the general, but he told me later of his fumings at how terribly slow we moved.

I had little time to notice, because it took eight huge cattle lighters to transport the Lancers, and I was constantly shuttling back and forth between the ships with my new adjutant, Legate Bikaner, in a small sailing boat helmed by a villain whose politest speech reduced the most profane lance-major to respectful silence.

But once we disembarked at Cicognara, even I saw how glacial was our progress. For three weeks there was nothing but interminable staff meetings as to how we should move, in what order, which regiment belonged to which division, and so forth, further confused as more and more units trickled into the city.

Some of the snarl was understandable, since the Numantian Army hadn't moved in such a mass for generations.

Eventually there were over , soldiers camped in and

around the city, everyone in awe at the size of the host. This sounds laughable, since a few years later I'd be comfortable personally commanding many times that number, just one part of Emperor Tenedos's forces, but it's necessary to remember that the army had fought in no wars, only border skirmishes and internal disputes, for years.

The eventual order of battle was as follows: Each regiment, now augmented to about , men, was grouped with four others to form a division. Five divisions then formed a corps. These , men formed a wing, of which there were three: Left, Center, and Right.

The thirteen elite regiments that'd been called to Nicias to suppress the riots were built back up to strength, given additional support elements, and used as either forward or screening elements of these three wings.

On a blistering day, the second of the Tune of Heat, we set off for Kallio, a long, multicolored snake curling along the road that leads to the border. I'd been angered before by how slowly the Khurram Light Infantry moved, but that pace was that of the cheetah compared to mis cumbersome monster. I had learned that a good soldier could carry all his possessions on his back or on a packhorse. If that was true, I marched east with over , idiots. I include myself, because Maran had had new uniforms designed and made, and I hadn't had the heart to tell her no, nor to leave them in Nicias. In fact, to be truthful, I rather admired them, with their silk facings, their exact fit, their gold and silver embroidery.

I tried to rationalize this by thinking I'd provide better leadership since I was so easy to mark, and that soldiers always wished their leaders to stand out. But in fact, a previously unknown streak of vanity showed itself. I'm not that ashamed—has there ever been a cavalryman without more than a trace of vainglory?

I couldn't maintain the silly rationale for long, not after Kar-jan looked at my wardrobe, and asked, expressionlessly, where we'd cage the peacocks we'd need for replacement feathers. So my personal gear filled two handsome leather wardrobes,

* and I was by far the most conservative of the higher-ranking officers.

Soldiers had cases, warrants had trunks, legates had cabinets, dominas had private wagons, and generals had trains.

On the march I had something to keep me occupied other than duty, since the Lancers ran of their own accord, like a perfect clockwork mechanism, needing little attention. Maran had written at least once, sometimes twice, a day, and I savored each letter as it arrived, reading and rereading the small delights of peace. There were pleasant surprises: Her husband would not contest the annulment; she'd encountered surprisingly little rejection for being a scarlet woman; and, best of all, her monthly time had not occurred yet.

She was also surprisingly explicit about what she wished me to do to her, when and where, in bed, standing, or in the bath, when I came home. I rode around with a seemingly perpetual bulge in my breeches, and wondered if I'd have to find a convenient bush to shame myself behind before the campaign ended.

Two days into the march, when we could still see the not-terribly-tall buildings of Cicognara in the distance, I saw a young, and obviously rich, legate shaving. He had his own tent, a clever folding table, desk, chairs, a personal cook with his own stove making breakfast to one side, two servants attending him, and a canvas bathtub beside. As he finished, a rather attractive young woman came out of the tent, pulling on a silk robe.

He was not the only one to bring a mistress or wife—one general brought three. Since he was slightly older than Irisu, no one knew what he did with one, let alone all of them.

Camp followers, ration wagons, sutlers' carts, bullocks for the slaughter—we looked like a migrating nation, not a fighting force.

I found a new pastime as our horses plodded onward across the countryside. Captain Petre and I returned to one of our old amusements—designing the army we'd rather lead, rather fight with. I even took to keeping a notebook with schemes we

thought particularly valuable. This is an odd thing for a domi-na and a captain to waste their time doing, and is rather the pastime of freshly commissioned legates. But it must be remembered I was only twenty-three and Petre a year older, so our foolishness can be understood. But considering what happened a few weeks later, it turned out not to be foolish at all.

I encountered Tenedos when we'd made camp, a week after we'd marched out of Cicognara and inquired as to how it was going. He looked around to make sure we couldn't be overheard.

'It is not going at all, as you should know," he said. "No one, not even General Turbery, seems to be aware that the Time of Heat will not last forever, and we must be across the border into Kallio and dealing with Chardin Sher before the monsoons begin. Instead, we stroll along at our leisurely pace, stopping to pick a flower here, investigate a byway there—" he broke off. "Damastes, is there anyone in your army who knows how to fight?"

"Afy army, sir?"

"My apologies. I mean no slur. I'm fresh from a conference with the general, and I seem to be speaking a different language than he does." He sighed heavily. "I just hope things will come right when they must.

"Oh. By the way, you may congratulate me. Turbery's given me general's rank."

I blinked. "Well, my heartiest, sir. But... you turned that down once before."

"That was before," Tenedos said. "And that was when I wished to keep some remove between me and the army. Now I must not. There is a time to watch, and then a time to swim with the current."

I wasn't sure what he meant, but congratulated him, saluted, and went back to the Lancers.

I told Mercia, Captain Petre, of my conversation. He made sounds I knew I was supposed to take for laughter.

"The seer general is quite right, I think. But he's hardly blameless."

"Why so?"

« "Oh, you haven't heard? He's brought his lady along." And so it was; not a day later I saw him riding with Rasen-na. I waved, and they waved back. If it wouldn't have been a scandal, I almost wished I'd brought Maran. But an army on the campaign isn't the best place for gentlefolk unused to harshness, although the manner in which we traveled was, indeed, more like rich, happy wanderers on a vacation than hard soldiering.

Then the word came: Chardin Sher had crossed the border into Dara! Now it was open war.

Scouts and magic discovered that his army was waiting for us, in prepared positions along the Irmu River, not far from the small Daran city of Entoto.

Four days later, we came on them. We were near the headwaters of the Imru River, so it wasn't particularly wide, no more than thirty yards. It runs south-southeast to eventually join the Latane. We were moving across rolling, fairly open countryside, scattered with groves of trees—open country ideal for warfare.

Chardin Sher's army held an excellent position, a choke point that we must pass through to reach the border between Kallio and Dara. The road we'd been following ran down to a ford, and across it was Chardin Sher's main force. Across the river to the west reared a heavily forested mountain, the Assab Heights. Downriver, past the ford, were Chardin Sher's reserves, and beyond them to the east the river forked and passed through a marsh.

_______t^^vIua, auu waiiea see what would happen next We estimated Chardin Sher's forces at about , , surprisingly close to the exact number revealed after me war. Outnumbered, they made no move to attack, but waited for us.

I was surprised to see they'd prepared no fighting positions other man shallow trenches near the river, since they planned to be on the defensive.

I began to feel the fire build. This might well be a battle decided by the cavalry, and I would be in the forefront

Mail reached us.

My darling, darling, darling I AM pregnant. A seer confirmed this only today. I asked her what else she could see about the child, as to its sex or its future, but she said nothing more came to her.

But this is for certain, my love.

This is beyond my happiest dream. I said I wished a boy, but if it's a girl, that is also perfect. All that matters is that he or she is yours, is ours.

I wonder which time it was that our love so pleased Irisu he let our child-to-be leave the Wheel? Was it when we fucked on the balcony, and you managed to break the glass table? Or was it...

But the rest doesn't matter.

So I was to be a father.

Now I hoped the campaign would be a very short one, or else I might have an interesting wedding ceremony, with my firstborn as ring-bearer.

Then it began to go wrong.

General Rechin Turbery called all regimental commanders with their adjutants for a briefing one morning.

We would attack on the following day.

Such a major move required far more notice than the eighteen hours he'd given us.

He'd made no consultation with his corps or division commanders.

He'd sent no patrols to the far shore to make reconnaissance.

The size of the briefing guaranteed no one could ask anything but the most obvious question, let alone raise objections.

The soldiers would be ready to move at midnight, and the attack would begin at false dawn.

* Too long a time would pass between assembly and battle. The army was completely unpracticed at moving, let alone fighting, at night.

Each wing would attack frontally, crossing the river at once.

No soundings had been taken to see if the water was shallow across our entire front.

The Right Wing was to swing right after it reached the far bank and immobilize Chardin Sher's reserves to the east, near the swamp, while the Center and Left Wings were to close Chardin Sher's main force in a pincers.

The Numantian Army might have survived the other errors, but this last was the worst:

"What was on the other side of the Assab Heights? I was about to ask that question when the general laid the final stroke of the whip.

The cavalry was to be withdrawn to the rear of the Center Wing and take no part in the initial fighting. Once the Left and Center Wings had broken Chardin Sher's main force—this was an automatic assumption by Turbery—we would then charge across the mm and settle the Kallians' hash for good, the so-called final moment of battle.

I reddened in anger and disbelief. It might have been a good idea to have a strong striking force ready to seize any opportunity, but all the cavalry? I barely knew the names of the other regimental commanders. That we were supposed to fight together as a team without plans, order of battle, rehearsal, without field exercises, was utterly absurd. If General Turbery had planned on using us in this manner, he should have had us practicing in Cicognara and on the march east, rather than letting us skylark about with no purpose. Turbery's plan would also leave the army without screening riders, flank security, or frontal scouts—in short, completely blind in its attack I glanced at Bikaner, and he was as aghast as I. General Turbery went on to describe what was to be done with Chardin Sher when we captured him, although he'd not said anyone knew he was actually with the Kallians across the river, then closed with some inspiring remark about how Numantia would now prove its iron, its strength as a great nation. I was too angry to hear him.

I headed straight for Seer Tenedos's tent, which was not far from Turbery's headquarters. It was large, divided into two sections, one for an office, the other for the seer's bedchamber. I saw no sign of Rasenna. I started telling Tenedos what idiocy I'd just listened to and he held up his hand, stopping me.

"Did you notice I wasn't present?" Of course I had, but idiotically had assigned no importance to it "The general informed me of his intentions last night I objected strongly, as strongly as I could, but he insisted he knew better, so I refused to honor the farce with my presence. "I'll tell you two things that you must not repeat to anyone, not even your adjutant, that will make you even angrier, and this is why I refused to take part in the briefing, because I know we face potential disaster.

"First is that there is great magic swirling around this place, magic such as I've never heard of before, never encountered." "No one has told me anything about the Kallians having a great sorcerer," I said. "But considering the disregard the army still holds magic in, that means nothing. Can you detect who's casting these spells?"

"That's the unusual aspect, for I detect no single... signature might be the word, the sign that one man or woman is working these incantations. I almost fear Chardin Sher has a magician who's perfected a Great Spell, somehow getting others to work together with him.

"But I can't believe that. I'm prideful enough to think if I couldn't produce anything cohesive from those master magicians, arrogant fools that they are, of the Chare Brethren, no one else, using other wizards, can either."

"What's the other problem?' I asked. "I brought half a dozen magicians with me, and we've been trying to cast searching spells across the river, since General * Turbery has refused to send scouts out, fearing to lose the element of surprise.

"All of our efforts have been turned back, as if we were but tin swords lunging at steel plates.

"This worries me more than the first."

"Is there anything that can be done?"

"Very little. Probably nothing. Try prayer—and not to Saionji. We do not need to encourage the Bringer of Chaos to even notice us on the morrow. Return to your regiment, and be very wary of the way you fight on the morrow. If you cross the river, be prepared for surprise. I'm going to try yet again to penetrate this veil of darkness, to see what Chardin Sher is up to."

"One question, sir. Have you, or any of your seers, been able to ascertain whether Chardin Sher is over there in person?'

"We tried, and were rebuffed. I tried another method, and sent a searching spell across the country, aimed toward Polycittara. I detected no sign of the prime minister, but that isn't certain. My spell could have failed, or he could be in yet another location, or have wards up to prevent my locating him.

"But I can tell you I feel his presence. I would wager, with nothing more than that feeling, that he is, indeed, over there, waiting to preside over our destruction."

"Sir," I said. "I mean no disrespect to our commander, but I thought General Turbery had experience; I thought he'd fought the Kallians."

"He has, Damastes. But with how many men? A regiment, perhaps two, against small probes by a company or two of their forces, bom sides breaking off when real blood began to be shed, since neither side wished to acknowledge real enmity. I'm afraid General Turbery's reach has far exceeded his grasp.

"There might also be another problem: It's not uncommon for a man to achieve greatness so long as he isn't the final rung on the ladder. As long as General Turbery could fall back on a superior, such as General Protogenes, all was well and good.

"But now he stands alone, and will be judged."

No longer angry, but worried, I hurried back to the Lancers.

The various units were supposed to wait until dark to begin movement, and the Lancers obeyed orders.

Others didn't—I saw dust clouds swirl as various foot units began, literally, stealing the march, dust clouds visible across the river to warn Chardin Sher something was in the offing.

Finally, the Lancers began moving, and if the morrow were not looming close, it might have been funny.

Columns got lost, troops ended up riding with other regiments, men fell off their horses, men rode into tents, men rode into wagons, men rode into latrines ... the list of mishaps was as various as the numbers of swearing cavalrymen wallowing around in the night.

But eventually we found a location approximately where we were to be, and waited for battle.

At false dawn, the havoc began.

The Battle of Imru River is correctly taught as one of the finest, least subtle, most complete catastrophes of war known. It should have been a great victory—we outnumbered the foe nearly two to one, it was a calm day, the heavy clouds overhead were unthreatening, and both sides could see each other perfectly.

Most combats, once joined, are a confusion of blood and screaming, where no one knows quite what's going on, and frequently the victor isn't sure he's won until the next day. Imru River was different. Since my role, until the end, was to sit fuming helplessly on a ridge, waiting for the grand opportunity that never happened, I can tell precisely and briefly of the disaster.

Just at false dawn, trumpets sounded, and the three Numantian wings marched toward the river. General Hern led the Left Wing, General Odoacer the Right, with General Turbery taking personal command of the Center.

They marched straight into the river, in closed battle order, and the floundering began. The water at the ford was a bit deeper than anyone had thought, and men struggled and yelled, the river's swift current catching their shields and sending them stumbling. General Turbery and the other high-rankers, on horseback, had noticed nothing.

In the Center, confusion began.

General Odoacer, on the right, was perhaps more eager than the others for his share of glory, and so he'd moved forward a bit faster than the other two elements.

Our right flank was therefore exposed.

On the left it was a debacle. The shallows did not extend that far west, and the river deepened to more than eight feet a few paces from the bank. Men toppled into water over their heads, flailed about, trying to swim in armor, and began drowning. The implacable press of the formation forced other men after them, and the water became a seething mass of helpless soldiery.

On the other bank, the Kallian forces rose out of their shallow pits, and a single man rode out in front of them—Chardin Sher, magnificent in silver armor astride a chestnut stallion, his standard-bearers behind him.

General Turbery was evidently not aware of the problems of the Left Wing, and, as he saw his foe in plain sight, he called for a charge, and the Center crashed forward, out of the water onto dry land.

Without even waiting until they were within arrow range, the Kallians began falling back. Perhaps Turbery thought they had panicked, seeing the determined Numantians come at them. But he should have known better, for they retired in an orderly manner, marching backward, line on line. The Numantian Center shouted exulting war cries and broke into a run, sucked even farther into the trap, for of course that's precisely what it was.

Our Right Wing was having a bit of trouble, the river being wider where they were crossing.

At this moment, Chardin Sher struck.

His sorcerers brought up a wall of water, like a sudden neap tide, and sent it rushing down on us from the west. It was no more than two feet high, but that was more than enough. It caught the men of the Left Wing and swept them along, but there were only a few ranks to be sent tumbling downriver.

It took the Right Wing in midcrossing, smashing into it as hard, and lethally, as if it'd been a blacksmith's sledge.

Kallian horns screamed, and Chardin Sher's center turned back and attacked, archers to either side volleying arrows into the massed Numantian Center.

General Turbery was killed in that first volley, and I saw, from my vantage point, the Numantian colors go down. The Center took the shock of the first wave, then stumbled back a bit.

Chardin Sher's forces must have rehearsed this battle over and over. Isa knows they'd had time enough, having held the ground for long days before our dilatory arrival. The Kallian Left Wing split its forces, sending half in against the Numantian Center, the other half across the river, on a hidden ford, to our side of the bank and striking against our Right Wing.

Then came the deathstroke. From their positions, which had been masked by sorcery and the Assab Heights, ran the rest of Chardin Sher's army. They were mostly cavalry or light infantry, and drove directly into the open flank of the Center Wing.

The battleground became swirling chaos, man fighting man, man killing man, no more tactics, no more grand design, just bloody slaughter.

I saw Numantian flags go down, and small knots of soldiers I knew to be ours make a last stand, then disappear, overrun by waves of Kallians.

I heard a cavalry general shouting, to whom I don't know, perhaps the god of war, for someone to unleash us.

But there was no one to give the command.

General Turbery was dead. General Odoacer was dead. General Hern was pinned under his fallen horse and had a broken leg. Three other generals died that day, ten dominas, and who knows how many lesser-ranking officers.

The Numantian Center Wing was obliterated, the Left mired in confusion, and the Right cut to ribbons.

Chardin * Sher's forces reformed, and rolled toward the river, an indestructible force bent on our total destruction.

I sat on Lucan seeing this nightmare, the worst defeat imaginable, and something broke within me.

There were other dominas with the cavalry far senior to me, and two generals. But no one did anything.

I knew I must.

'Trumpeter," I shouted, "sound the advance!"

The horns blared, at first raggedly, surprised, but then strong, and the Seventeenth Ureyan Lancers, as they'd been taught, went down the hill at the walk to battle.

Shouts of surprise, possibly countermanding my orders, came from behind, around us, but I cared not. If other regiments joined us, well and good. But I could not see my country destroyed on this unknown ground by some dead fool's mistakes.

Maran, my child, my own life, all were swept away.

I heard other trumpets, glanced behind me, and saw other regiments, shamed by our action, start forward.

Then they were all moving, perhaps , men, against five times their number.

Thunder rolled then, and a man walked down the slope in front of us, toward the water, toward the ford.

It was the Seer Tenedos, in half-armor, but without his helmet.

His voice was the thunder, and the thunder was his voice. I could not make out his words as the spell rolled and crashed from the hills around us.

Raindrops pattered, and I saw the clouds had suddenly changed, now dark, threatening as his ringing words took effect.

Archers came from nowhere, and war-shafts arched over the Imru. landing among the oncoming Kallians, and then the storm broke, a roaring cataclysm, so no one could see more than a few yards ahead of him.

The rain lessened for a second, and I saw the Kallians, still hesitating at the ford's far beginnings, seeing the Imru swirl up V,

in flood, afraid to chance being stranded, and then the storm pulled a curtain across my view.

Men cannot, will not, fight when they cannot see, when their leaders cannot see beyond their horses' ears, and so the battle was over.

I would be permitted to live the day, and not to have to make the sacrifice I'd offered Isa and Numantia.

Sanity came back, and I remembered Mar£n, and breathed a prayer of thanks to my wise monkey god Vachan and my own godling Tanis. But the field was littered with more than , Numantian casualties.

The rain-roar slowed, and I could see across the Imru again, see the Kallians pulling back.

Tenedos still stood where I'd seen him last, but now his arms were at his sides. He tottered then, and fell, and I kicked Lucan into a trot through the mire, desperately afraid the seer had been hit.

I dismounted and ran to him, where he lay facedown. I turned him over, and his eyes came open.

"Damastes," he said. "Did the spell break them?" "Yessir. They're pulling back."

"Good. Good. Took... took everything I had. You'll have to ... help me up."

I lifted him, half-carried him to Lucan, and helped him into the saddle.

I led Lucan away, toward Tenedos's tent, the sorcerer swaying in the saddle, barely able to stay mounted.

Karjan rode out of the murk, and caught Tenedos, not letting him fall.

I suddenly realized it was late afternoon, and growing dark. Somehow the day had gone without the hours being noticed.

Now there was nothing but the driving storm, the cries and moans of dying men and horses, and the bitter taste of utter defeat.

TWENTY-FOUR The Birth of an Army When we reached

Tenedos's tent, a sobbing Rasenna helped me get the wizard inside. He told her to get a certain vial from a chest and shuddered the contents down.

I could see the mixture hit, see the gray pallor pass from his cheeks, see him straighten, see strength pour into his system.

"I shall pay for taking this," he said. "Nothing is for free, and these herbs call up my innermost energy, leaving no reserves. But there is no choice.

"Damastes, collect as much of your regiment as you can. I want them as messengers. Go to all the dominas and higher you can find, or whoever's left in charge of a formation, regardless of rank, and order them to report to the command tent as soon as possible."

"That'll take a while, sir, with the rain."

"The spell should break within the hour," he said, "and there'll be a quarter-moon to guide your riders."

"Can I tell them what the purpose of the meeting is?"

"Yes. Tell them General-Seer Laish Tenedos is taking command of the army, and will issue appropriate orders at this time. Failure to attend will be dealt with as disobedience of a direct order."

I saluted and turned away.

"One more thing. Send a small party to the river, and try to find out what the Kallians are doing, if you would."

I took approximate bearings, by guess and by Isa, where the Lancers might be, and started in that direction.

So Tenedos was taking over the army, without orders or authority. But what of it? Someone must. As far as I knew then, there were no other generals on the fiekl—General Hern still hadn't been found. Also, I'd learned that in an emergency the man who appears calmest, who can issue sensible orders, is most likely the man to obey.

I found elements of Cheetah Troop in about half an hour, and they helped me grope my way to the rest of the regiment. As I finished passing along Tenedos's orders, as Tenedos predicted, the storm cleared.

I found Legate Yonge, and, with five of the men of Sambar Troop, we rode cautiously down to the Imru, past the crawling bodies of the wounded, past the corpses, trying to ignore the pleas for help or even a merciful blade between the ribs.

I was waiting to be ambushed. Chardin Sher should have pushed pickets across the flood to keep in touch with our forces. But we encountered no one except Numantians. The moon was bright enough to see the far bank, and the raging waters of the storm-flushed Imru. All was quiet, and there was no sign of Me nor of fires from an enemy camp.

Chardin Sher must have retreated, which in fact he had. Perhaps he'd not expected such a grand victory and frightened himself; perhaps he had made no plans beyond that day; or possibly he had no intent of taking the kingdom he so desired by the sword, but only by its threat, and now hoped the Rule of Ten would announce his majesty by proclamation. I do not know, but I do know better than to theorize about those who wish to sit a throne.

In fact, we found days later, when the river subsided and we were able to slip spies and small patrols across, that the Kallians had retreated all the way back to their own borders, where they began building strong defensive positions.

* But that came later. The first task was to recover from the debacle of the battle.

Eventually the command tent was surrounded by exhausted, sometimes bleeding commanders. I was shocked—some formations were evidently led by legates and sergeants, since I saw many of those ranks shivering in the night.

Seer Tenedos mounted to the back of a wagon. His voice carried to us all, his magic drawing even more of his vital energy:

"I am General Tenedos," he said. "I have taken command of this army. We were beaten today, beaten hard.

But there is always tomorrow.

"We shall not be attacked again, not this night, nor in the next few days. The Kallians have withdrawn in triumph.

"They shall me their arrogance, rue that they did not finish us to the man.

"I promise you bitter revenge shall be taken for this defeat. Numantia has just begun its battle.

"Here are my orders. Return to your formations. Wait until sunrise. Then look about you. There are wounded men, there are lost men, to help.

"There are a few who wish to shirk further duty. Tell them to return to their formations or face punishment.

"All those fancy wagons we brought, carrying our luxuries? They'll carry our wounded.

"Strip them of the fripperies, and share those items among us all, a private having the same rights as the general who owned them before.

"There is to be no drunkenness, I warn you. If you cannot keep your men's hands from the wine bottle, smash it in front of them. I order that any man found drunk be given twenty lashes across a wagon wheel. Any officer will be given twice that and reduced to the ranks. Now is the time to pull together, not fall apart.

"When we are assembled, as an army, not a rabble, we shall fall back on Entoto.

"There, we shall build a new, greater army, an army that will destroy Chardin Sher's pretensions.

"And we shall build it this year, this season. I promise you, we shall be in the field once more, before the Time of Storms."

That sent a shock through us all, that Time being only a third of a year away, and I knew it would take a year, possibly two, to rebuild our forces.

"Now, go back to your units. You are given license to punish doom-criers, deserters, and the lazy as harshly as your units' policies permit. No one shall be judged for having obeyed my command to the fullest extent of the law.

"That is all. All of us shall leave this field... or none."

There was no cheering; none of us had the energy, nor could we feel any cause to rejoice. But the steel in Tenedos's words had struck common metal in most of us.

As bad as I dreamed the field would look, at dawn it was worse. But we'd gotten some momentum, and we were cleaning up and reforming. The hardest task for me was putting together a detail to kill the wounded, still-screaming horses, and I dreamed of a day when war could be fought with magically impervious mounts. Man might have a right to bring blood to his arguments, but he has none to slaughter the innocent beasts of the field in his disputes.

By morning of the next day we marched away from the blood-soaked Imru River. Behind us, a great funeral pyre sent flames and greasy smoke boiling to the gods, while black kites circled overhead, screaming disappointment at being denied their carrion reward.

The army swamped Entoto, taking over every public building for hospitals and quarters and sheltering healthy men among the population. Tenedos sent couriers to the river, to Cicognara, with a full report, and orders that the army needed all things immediately, from bandages to food to tents to replacements. He cobbled together a unit of signalers, and ordered them to build a heliograph line from Entoto to Cicognara, where it would tie into the main system that led downriver to Nicias.

The first to arrive from Nicias was what we needed least:

f> The Tauler churned up to Cicognara and unloaded Barthou, speaker for the Rule of Ten; Scopas, the only surviving member of the Rule of Ten who'd been occasionally on Tenedos's side; and a cadaverous-looking individual named Tlmgad, one of the new electees to the Rule of Ten. There was another man with them, a balding, pompous-looking sort wearing the sash of a general. He was named Indore, and was the Rule of Ten's hand-picked successor to General Turbery. I knew him not, but asked around, and learned he had an enviable reputation for always having been at the correct spot, politically, at the correct time. His only field experience was on various staffs, where he'd made sure never to contradict his superior, fail to praise him for his genius, and try to take over his position as rapidly as possible. "Indore is his name and Indoors is where he made it," was the bitter joke that went around.

The army, still wounded, still in shock, shuddered at what they knew was coming: The Rule of Ten would have some sort of plan, almost surely guaranteed to get us killed, and Indore would be the general to carry it out.

I was not present when the Rule of Ten representatives met with Tenedos, of course, nor was there any record made. But twice over the years Tenedos reminisced about the old days, and told me what had happened. Both times his accounts were precise, so I accept them as the truth, even if the tale is self-serving. Barthou began by congratulating the seer on how brilliantly he'd served, helping the army retreat, although of course he suspected if General Turbery hadn't gone down "on the field of valor," he would have mounted a counterattack. Tenedos told me he refrained from asking "With what?" and listened, keeping a carefully polite, but blank, countenance.

Barthou had turned into a saber-rattler. Chardin Sher must be destroyed immediately. He didn't see why the army couldn't be reconstituted from surviving men, combining units to produce one single full-strength force. In fact, he was surprised that Seer Tenedos's report had been so gloomy—why, riding from Cicognara to this headquarters, he'd been amazed at how hale and hearty (he soldiers were.

"I would think we could march out against that traitor tomorrow."

One half hour, and Barthou knew the army better than it knew itself.

Barthou went on to say the Rule of Ten had unanimously voted a title to Tenedos, and wished that he would stay on to assist General Indore until he had "the reins fully in his hands." Then, Barthou went on, no doubt there'd be other ways Tenedos could serve Numantia.

Barthou was about to slide into a smooth commending speech that was actually an eulogy for the wizard when Tenedos stood.

"Stop," he said calmly. Barthou gaped, a man not used to being told to shut up.

"You say the Rule of Ten voted unanimously to appoint the good general. Is that true, Scopas?"

The fat man shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yes," he said. "Not on the first ballot, but eventually."

"I see." He turned his attention to Barthou.

"Speaker, the answer is no." Now the politician was completely stunned.

"N—no? No to what?"

"No to you, no to your lapdog general, no to the Rule of Ten. There are no witnesses to this conversation, but you may walk out of this tent, and ask any of the men your stupidity sent against Chardin Sher. Ask them if they will follow me... or if they wish to follow you, or whoever you name to caper at your command."

"This is treason, sir!"

"Perhaps it is," Tenedos said, his voice rising. "If so, it is more than overdue. Let me tell you what shall happen. All of you, including this sorry excuse for a leader, are going to leave this tent, smiling politely, and we are going to walk to a convocation of officers I called when I heard you were on the outskirts of the city.

"You are going to name me as general of the army, and you are going to say the Rule of Ten has full confidence in my abil-

* ities to destroy Chardin Sher, end this civil war, and bring peace to Numantia."

"And if I don't?" Barthou said, his chin bulging red in anger.

"If you don't, I doubt if the army will permit you to leave Entoto alive," Tenedos said. "But I am willing to take my chances that I'm right. Are you? If you are, get on that platform and repeat what you told me.

"Are you so stupid you believe those riots we suffered through recently were completely brought about by the stran-glers or by Chardin Sher?

"You did as much to create it with your stumbling excuse for ruling, you and the rest of the Rule of Ten.

"You created the morass, you ordered the army to march into it, and now you are trying to step on its fingers as it tries to claw its way out.

"No, sir. The army will not obey your command. "I give you one turning of the glass to consider your choices. One choice could well mean an open revolt by the masses, and if there is one, the army will turn away from Chardin Sher, content to deal with him another time, to confront their real enemy who repeatedly stabs the only hope Numantia has in the back.

"That is your first choice.

"Your second is to do as I ordered. Then you can return to Nicias holding the power you arrived with, and be certain the Kallian shall be brought down and crushed in the dust. But you cannot make this choice and then renounce it once you reach safety. In Nicias, you will, you must, satisfy each and every demand I shall have for the army's rebuilding. I want that very clear in your minds.

"Consider your choices well, gentlemen. Your very lives may depend on it."

He set a small half-hour glass on the desk in front of him and stalked out.

Tenedos swore he had no magical eavesdropping devices in the tent, and I must believe him, but I would give a fair amount

of gold to know what happened among those four men while the sands trickled.

Tenedos said there were angry shouts, and once or twice one or another of the Rule of Ten stormed out, only to be called back before he could get ten feet. Time ran out, and Tenedos returned. "I knew I held victory when I saw their faces. Scopas looked worried, but a little confident, sure that he had chosen right, and power would not be taken from him. Barthou and that other corpse-looking fellow, Timgad, well, they were like schoolboys who've been whipped and told by the master they must confess to stealing apples to the entire lycee, pouting, sulky-faced."

"What of that general, Indore?"

"Why, being what he was, he had the same politely interested expression as he did when he walked into the tent. That man could murder his parents and then ask mercy of the judge for being an orphan!"

Two hours after that, Speaker Barthou, flanked by his two fellows, Indore having conveniently absented himself, climbed to the platform and, holding out their hands to quell the cheers, named Seer Laish Tenedos general of the armies of Numantia.

That done, they fled to their carriage and drove it out of the city as if demons were after them, never pausing until they reached "safety" in the palace in Nicias. Now the real work would commence.

All Numantia responded to the shock and shame of the defeat, and supplies, money, weapons, and recruits poured across the country, on foot, on horseback, by boat.

The recruiters we sent out had to turn men, and even a few hopeful women, away, some of them in tears.

Numantia had scented chaos in the riots, and feared the biggest monster of civil war still more.

Chardin Sher must be stopped.

* Tenedos called a meeting of all senior officers.

"This shall be very short, gentlemen. I intend to make changes in this army, changes that shall turn it into a modern, sophisticated fighting force.

"There shall be no more Imru Rivers, not as long as I lead you.

"Obey me, and you'll find glory and riches. Disobey or hesitate, and I'll break you like sticks."

His gaze swept the room, and men looked down or away.

One man waved his cane enthusiastically. It was General Hem, sitting most uncomfortably in his plastered leg. "Sir, let me be the first to say I'll gladly march under your orders. I'm damned if I was comfortable following that garrison soldier Turbery. You lead, sir, and I'll follow. If this damned leg won't let me sit a horse I'll ride in a cart like a milkmaid!" There was a bit of laughter—Hern was highly thought of, and would certainly keep command of the Left Wing.

Tenedos's eyes continued sweeping the room. One man not only met his gaze, but stood, his pose defiant It was that brawling swordsman, Domina Myrus Le Balafre, commander of the Varan Guards.

"I mean no offense," he said, meaning offense and waiting for a moment before adding the obligatory "sir,"

"but I follow those who can lead me.

"Even though you did well after the Imru, you're still a wizard, a politician, I've heard, a man who makes great speeches.

"Well, shit on speeches and those who make 'em! We're always the poor fuckers who have to clean up afterwards.

"So why should I follow you, Seer? I give not one damn if you tear away my sash of rank. I'll soldier on, for someone else, as I have before."

"No you won't," Tenedos said calmly. "For you're a Numantian."

"What does that mean?"

"It means the days when a freelance blade could find an army to fight in without regard to the colors he was under are gone.

"The time has come, sir, when you are either a Numantian,

or an enemy.

"Stand with me, or stand against me. There is no other."

His gaze burned into Le Balafre's for long moments, a stare as harsh, as compelling, as the one he'd given me when we'd first met, in Sulem Pass.

The domina broke, and looked away.

"I'll... I'll stay. Sir. And serve well."

"I never doubted that, my friend. Not for an instant You're too brave a man not to."

And with those simple words any grumbling among the commanders became impossible.

Not that there wasn't grumbling, in fact it was as loud and protracted as any I'd heard. Even beyond a soldier's gods-given privilege to complain, there was some reason.

Men who'd soldiered for years in a unit were suddenly transferred to a new, unknown formation.

Experienced men were needed to give a backbone to those regiments shattered or obliterated in the battle or to brand-new units, which were daily being formed. Some of the complaints were muted because promotion went with these transfers, and not promotions of a single grade, but of two and even three ranks.

The only formations left unscathed were the thirteen elite units that'd been called to Nicias, including the Lancers. Tene-dos would use us as his spearhead and his right bower until the rest of the army was completely trained. Then, he said, we could expect to be rewarded for our sacrifice by suffering the same fate as the others, and we'd be given promotion and command of new formations ourselves. "This is true for every man, private, lance, or officer. This preposterous distinction of class that keeps a good man from reaching the highest ranks is gone. Let those who think accents or background or wealth matters find some other arena to prance around in."

Tenedos said those who couldn't fulfill the responsibility would be quickly returned to their old ranks and old units if possible.

* This scheme was going to cause problems, and some deaths, he knew. But we'd have to accept them.

"There's a saying on Palmeras," he said," 'The easier the birth the lazier the man.'"

That reminded me of my own life, and I grinned, and told Tenedos to never mind when he asked. I was evidently going to be the father of the laziest Numantian in history, for Maran's letters told of no troubles, no problems whatsoever, which reassured me, even though we were in the earliest stages of the pregnancy.

The second reason for complaints was the loss of discipline. The army before Imru, before Tenedos, had been strict, formal, tightly disciplined. That vanished, never to return, and it may sound odd, but I was glad, remembering all those stifling evenings in mess when I sat around forced to listen to boring men mutter on about events no one, not even they, cared about The new men changed all this.

I was outside my tent, not wearing my rank sash, and saw a formation, if that is what it was, shambling toward me. There were thirty or so of them, from the ages of fifteen to maybe thirty-five. Some of them were barefoot even. Others wore tradesmen's clogs or shabby boots.

It looked like they'd outfitted themselves from the discard heap, wearing everything from peasant smocks to tattered jackets and pants that would have been fine three or four owners ago, to one proud lad wearing nothing but a loincloth and a battered dragoon's helmet without leather or horsehair.

What made them even more ragged-looking is that some of them thought they should arrive in uniform, and so wore bits and pieces of every sort of military wear, including one or two with Maisirian gear, which they'd gotten from gods-knew-where.

At their head was an average-looking man immaculately dressed in a sergeant's uniform that was the pattern some five years before. If it had been his originally, he'd had a comfortable existence since then, for the jacket wouldn't button, and the pants were kept decent by a patch of matching material to cover his comfortably successful gut.

He was calling a cadence, and the recruits were stumbling-ly trying to keep in step. He saw me, shouted attention, and saluted. Half of the yokels tried to follow, not yet having learned the only person who salutes is the senior member of a formation.

The uniformed man wore rank slashes.

"Sergeant," I called, and the man brought his formation to a stumbling halt.

"Yessir."

"How long have you been on the road?"

"Depends, sir. Some of us for a few days, some of us, like Cutch mere, who comes from the far east, almost two weeks. But we're eager to serve, sir."

"Is that... was mat your uniform?"

"Yessir. And so were the slashes, although I know I'll have to cut them off when I'm sworn in."

"Why'd you get out?"

The man hesitated.

"Go ahead."

"Didn't seem to be anything worth soldiering for, sir. So I got married. Settled down."

"In what trade?"

'Tradesman, sir. But really I was more a peddler. My wife, Guiana, ran the store, filled the orders, and I tramped the country. I must've seen this country end to end, sir. Including a lot of Kallio. Maybe that'll be useful."

"It will be. So why did you reenlist? Times get hard?"

"Nossir. Store's doing fine. Had to take over the two buildings on either side of it to make room for all the merchandise. I've got half a dozen assistants, five peddlers out on the road, and my wife and our boys can take care of matters until I come back.

"I joined up again for two reasons, sir, the same two as the other boys who're with me. That damned Kallian is one, and the other's the seer. Right, men?"

K There was a rough cheer.

Now, here was a man who perfectly illustrated Seer Tene-dos's words about the constricts of rank. He was well spoken enough to be an officer, but under the old rules the rank he held was the highest he could dream of. No wonder he chose to return to civilian life.

"We're glad to have you," I said truthfully. "Soldier well, and there'll be gold and fame for you all."

"Thank you, sir. Might I ask who you are, sir, if you don't mind my boldness?"

"Domina £ Cimabue. Commanding Seventeenth Ureyan Lancers."

I heard a murmur go through the ranks—my name must have spread beyond the lonely women of Nicias.

"And yours?"

"Linerges, sir. Cyrillos Linerges."

He saluted, and the men marched away into the never-satisfied belly of the army, to be ground up and turned into soldiers.

I tapped on the pole of Tenedos's tent.

"Enter," he said, and I pulled the flap aside. The seer sat at his field desk, reading.

"Sir, may I take some of your time?"

"Of course. Rasenna's already snoring, so she'll never know I'm not beside her. She's getting used to my hours anyway. Come on in. There's a flask of tea over there, and bring me a brandy. I think I deserve one."

"Yessir. Sir, I brought someone I think you should meet." I beckoned, and Mercia Petre entered rather shyly. I introduced him.

"So this, I assume, is to be more than social," the seer said. "Very well. Captain, do you drink, or are you a prune like the domina?"

"Nossir. I'm an abstainer, too. Promised my father." "Gods," Tenedos moaned. "I'm surrounded by prigs."

He appeared in a vastly good mood, and I was relieved.

"Sir, the reason we came here is because you're in the middle of reforming the army, and we have some ideas."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Not like ours, sir," I said. "The captain and I've spent a lot of time working things out, ever since I met him when we first came back from Kait."

"Ah. Another set of conspirators against the Way Things Are. You are both to be commended, although Damastes, I admit to some surprise, since I thought you were a man of deeds, not words." He looked at Petre. "I call the domina by his first name since we've served together for quite a while. Don't think I hold him and what he says in any less regard because of it."

"Nossir," Petre said. "He already told me that." He was fumbling in his sabertache for the notebook containing our ideas we'd laboriously built up over the months. He started to hand it to Tenedos, who waved it away.

'Tell me first Then, if there's merit to what you say, we can work from there.

"Where's the starting point for your army?"

"First, sir, we should abandon the baggage train. All it does is slow us down, like it did when I was riding into the Sulem Pass after you, or—" I shut up, because Tenedos was waving his hand at me.

"I'm not quite a fool, Damastes, and I'd already figured that out. It's already in my plans. But how, in your view, should the army resupply itself? Carry a limited amount of supplies and encamp when they run out, waiting for the victual-bearers to catch up?"

"Off the country," Petre said. "We put out quartermasters in wagons, cavalry to screen them, and we take what we need. From the rich, if possible, but from any enemy."

Tenedos looked a bit surprised. "That's interesting," he mused. "And it would certainly lessen the cost of a war, turning it onto the enemy's back. That will win vast approval from our cheeseparing masters in Nicias."

"We also leave the camp, uh—" and Petre broke off, invol-

* untarily glancing at the inner part of the tent where Rasenna slept, since the next word was "followers."

But Tenedos had caught his meaning.

"No women, no laundresses, no candy butchers, eh? How deeply would you make the cut?"

"No one who isn't a soldier moves with the army. Period. No sutlers, no servants either. The only purpose for the wagons are for heavy gear and ambulances. And sir, that would mean everybody. There's no point in telling a sergeant he can't throw a trunk in the company wagon if he sees the general with a brougham and mistress."

Tenedos smiled. "Captain, I can see you made your rank on merit, not diplomacy. But how much faster would this change let us move?"

"We're not through," I said. "I want to put the infantry on horses, or mules anyway."

"Gods, that'd mean the biggest stableyard in history," Tenedos said.

"It'd be big, but not that big. One riding, one walking would be the way I'd set up these foot soldiers. Then, in time, let them all ride. Carry enough wheat to keep the animals from foundering on grass. Again, resupply off enemy granaries when we take them, not bum them to the ground as we do now. Let every mule have its own feedbag and saddlebags for provender."

"How would the men fight?" Tenedos asked, his interest now roused.

"They'd ride to battle, and fight as they always do, on foot. That way we don't have to take the time to train them to be cavalry," I said. "No lances, no sabers, but spears, javelins, swords, daggers."

"Arm some of them with bows," Petre put in. "We never have enough archers in a fight. Try to keep them out of hand-to-hand fighting. All it does is pin units and keep them from maneuvering. We'll lose less men if we can keep them out of a melee."

"But we're skirting the main point here, sir," I said, gathering all my courage. "First, I think we should form the cavalry into one single striking arm."

"But it is already, or should be when generals use it properly."

"No it isn % sir," I said. "Look at what you yourself ordered the other night: Damastes, use the Lancers as messengers. That's the way it always is, sir. An officer sees a man on a horse and instantly finds a task for him, messengering, couriering, whatever, anything other than his true purpose, which is to strike hard when opportunity offers, then move quickly on to the next weak point. Messengers can't do that, sir. We can't even train to do it when we're running dispatches from General Poop to Domina Crud. Sir."

"The other night was an emergency," Tenedos said, frowning.

"Sir," I said earnestly, "it's always an emergency. If you need messengers, train a staff of them. But keep your hands off the cavalry."

"Thank you, Domina," he said, putting emphasis on my rank. "No, no. Don't apologize. So what do I do with this cavalry, now that it's one great whinnying mass of warriors?"

"We strike for the enemy's heart," I said. "It's like playing rol. You get the ball, you cut around the forwards, and go straight for the goal. Ignore everything else. In order, we go after his army, his capital, his leaders.

Cut through the lines as fast as we can, don't worry about our flanks, and go for broke. Let the infantry take and hold the ground. Ignore their damned fortresses, unless we have to have them. Go around them. They'll surrender after we've killed their king or burnt their capital."

I realized how vehement I'd gotten, hearing a sleepy query from Rasenna as to what was going on, and subsided. Tenedos sat for a long time, thinking. Neither of us dared move, for fear of disturbing him.

"Interesting," he said. "Very interesting. But what happens if the cavalry is cut off?"

"Then it's their mistake, their responsibility to break free, or * hold out until the infantry can relieve them. If the unit moves fast enough, and doesn't allow itself to be pinned down by superior forces, it should never happen."

"Is all of this down in that little book of yours?"

"It is, sir. And there's more," Petre put in eagerly. "For instance—"

"Captain, please stop. A man or a sponge can only absorb so much at a time. If your handwriting is legible, would you object to leaving it with me? I'll return it within a day or so, or perhaps have copies made."

"Gladly, sir, gladly."

"Now that you've ruined my quiet meditation, and probably my brandy-drinking as well, you may depart."

We stood, saluted, and went out "Camp followers indeed," I heard Tenedos mutter.

Petre looked at me questioningly. I shrugged. The seer was his own man, and impossible to read. All I knew was that, unlike other times I could think of, we'd not be punished for having our own thoughts.

That, in itself, made the army very new and wonderful.

Tenedos called me to headquarters a day later.

He waved over a short, stocky man who looked like he was better suited to be a hotel's concierge than an officer. 'This is Captain Othman," he introduced. "I've chosen him as my new chief aide. He's quite remarkable, you'll find. He has an absolutely perfect memory, don't you, Captain?"

"I don't know about that, but thank you, sir." Othman looked uncomfortable.

"That's all, Captain. I intend to take a short walk with the domina, and shall return in a few minutes."

"Very well, sir."

We walked out of the tent. I expected... no, hoped, Tenedos would bring up what was in our notebook, but he didn't Instead:

"I've discovered how Chardin Sher was able to fool me with his spell."

"What is it? And, if I may ask, how did you discover it?" "I had the foresight to scoop up a bit of sand from the battleground, and I used that as the thinnest of aids to see if the Law of Contagion could help. It did, especially after I forced my mind to make full recollection of the few minutes I was able to spend with Chardin Sher, back in Nicias, then brought that memory into the present, and into reality with a spell.

"I sought his magic both in this world and in others, and I was able to find enough traces to be quite sure of bis method, or rather the method he ordered to be used.

"The man is vastly more clever than I thought, and succeeded where I failed."

"He was able to convince many magicians to work together?"

"Indeed. His own master magician, a man whose name I haven't learned yet, assembled sorcerers, then sent them into trances, and while their individual wills were quiescent gave them instructions to work together. Since these orders didn't interfere with any of their own desires, or not seriously, it performed nearly perfectly."

"So now you'll be sending orders to Nicias, conscripting the Chare Brethren?" I shuddered. "I'd not wish to be the drill warrant ordered to teach them what foot to march off on."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Tenedos said. "But I do plan to send a secret message to Scopas suggesting that, and telling him to leak the idea. That should frighten those fat, lazy impostors into being cooperative with any favors I may need.

"No, Damastes. That is their spell, and I know they must have built in countermeasures. I'll use something different, something better, now that I know what their secret is." He smiled, and his smile wasn't pleasant. "Chardin Sher will have some surprises in the next few months."

But the next surprise was for the army—and for me.

Once again, Tenedos ordered the top-ranking officers of the army to assemble. My orders also said I was to bring Captain Petre. I knew this would have to do with our proposal, and began to hope, for Tenedos was not the kind of man who'd * summon an underling to butcher him in public. I had some real evidence our ideas might be implemented: Two days earlier, without any fanfare, Rasenna left the camp, and returned to Nicias, and other mistresses or wives of high-ranking officers had followed her. Now it would be interesting to see what came next and if we were to learn how to become an army instead of a costume ball.

There were other officers there than just command-level. I was very surprised to see Legate Yonge, whom Tenedos had not mentioned in my orders. He grinned, half-waved, and then Tenedos came out of his tent.

He began without preamble.

"We are building a New Army, as you know. Well, my changes... our changes ... will cut more deeply than originally outlined.

"Two of my officers have made an interesting proposal, one that I intend to implement even further than they suggested.

"There will be changes in tactics as well, but first we shall make organizational changes so our new way of combat may be possible."

He looked about the audience, and smiled, seeing the dom-inas and generals exchanging worried looks, terrified that this new amateur was about to shatter what little foundation the poor, battered Numantian Army had.

"Don't worry. The changes aren't as great as you think, at least not on the surface."

He then went on to outline them. First he announced plans to mount as many infantry regiments as possible, and said he'd already sent orders to requisition every mule that could be found and send them south.

Then he announced that the cavalry was to be organized into a separate branch of its own, much as if it were its own wine. This hrnnaht rroc«^. «*-----J ______r^^io. nicy wouia nave a new mission, which was secret at present. But I knew what it was: When we went to battle next, we'd be striking directly for Chardin Sher.

"There is one other type of unit I propose to create, or rather take an existing group of units and redefine their mission. I am creating a Scouting Wing, and in it I will be placing all existing light infantry units, and creating new ones. They shall be the army's eyes and ears, replacing the cavalry, for whom I foresee a somewhat different mission, as I've said.

"These new wings will require new commanders.

"For the mounted infantry, I appoint Domina Myrus Le Balafre to general.

"For the Scouting Wing, a man you may not be familiar with, a man who's currently in a lesser rank than he should hold, more due to my inattention than anything else. I name Yonge to the rank of general." Tenedos had the grace not to say just how low-ranking the Kaiti was. The hillman stood, transfixed, then yelped like a schoolboy and leaped straight up in the air.

"A general," he yelped. "Me, a general! Hey, Damastes! I beat you. I'm there first!"

Some officers were looking scandalized, others laughed. I was one of the latter, and was about to call for a cheer for the hillman, when:

"Finally, heading the Cavalry Wing... Domina, now General, Damastes a" Cimabue!"

The only person happier than I was Captain Mercia Petre. Tenedos named him the new domina for the Seventeenth Lancers.

The Time of Heat came to an end, and the Time of Rains began. We cursed and slipped, but the pace of our training never slackened.

Tenedos had promised we'd fight before the Time of Storms, and we were determined to keep that vow.

My most wonderful Damastes I am writing this outside the Palace of the Rule of Ten, and have hired a courier to carry it by the fastest means possible, regardless of expense, to you.

Sfi I am free.

Not an hour ago, my annulment was granted by a special session of the Rule of Ten, at least a year before we thought the matter would be heard.

I do not know why this happened, why we are so lucky, but will make sacrifice to all the gods I know because it did.

Oh, my Damastes, now there is nothing that can come between us.

When this war is over, we can be married.

I am too happy, too excited to write more, but I am well, all is well, all is wonderful.

Your loving Mardn "My congratulations," Tenedos said. "Thank you for sharing your happiness with me."

"Uh, it's more than that, sir."

Tenedos lifted an eyebrow.

"Sir, I request your permission to have my bride-to-be come here, and also wish your permission for marriage."

"That is very irregular, Damastes. We are supposed to be preparing for war."

"I realize that, sir. But I would be a traitor to myself if I didn't ask."

"Ah. Yes, you would. I forget love can dictate louder than common sense. Well, now you've asked, so..."

his voice trailed off.

"I understand, sir." I came to attention, and was about to salute and depart.

Tenedos shook his head.

"Wait. No, I don't think you do. Nor did I, until I heard the echo of my own words.

"Irregular such an event would be, I said, and I was right. But aren't we building an irregular army?

"Surely a cavalryman is expected to be full of vapors and impulses.

"Why not?" Tenedos mused aloud. "It would certainly give the men something different to talk about The idlers could complain about the privileges of rank, and the rest of us could envy you.

"You have my approval, General. Send off a letter immediately. Wait. I have a better idea."

The captain in charge of the heliograph unit scowled at the message I'd handed him.

"Impossible, General. I'm not supposed to send messages to any civilian. The seer-general's own orders."

I handed him the next piece of paper.

"Oh," and his manner changed. "Sorry, sir. I should have known you'd have the seer-general's permission.

The weather's clear, for a change, so we can send it this very minute."

Seconds later, the light began flashing from atop the tower, carrying its simple message north: Come at once. Bring your wedding gown.

Love in War I bowed deeply over the hand of the Countess Agramonte, who curtsied and whispered, "It is permitted for the bridegroom-to-be to kiss the bride."

I needed no further encouragement, and pulled her into my arms. Behind me, soldiers cheered and on the riverboat I heard laughter, but paid no heed to either.

But my tongue barely moved between her lips before she pulled her head back.

"As I recall saying once before, sir, you do take advantages," she whispered.

"You have no idea the liberties I plan to take," I said. "Here? On the dock?"

"Standing up with my boots on and a brass band playing. Gods, but I've missed you."

"And I you, my Damastes," Maran said. "I cannot believe that we've been so fortunate, and that a great general such as yourself is willing to have a poor soiled woman from the country as your bride." She laughed and gently removed herself fium my arms. She was even more beautiful than I'd pictured her, even here, standing on a splintered wooden dock, wet from the first downpours of the Time of Rains. She wore a high-bodiced dark purple velvet dress that followed the lines V,

of her body to midcalf . She wore laced boots and a teal green, shimmering jacket that matched her wide hat.

"Now, if you'll give me a hand with my baggage."

She needed more than a hand; she needed a working party, which I'd brought in the form of an escort—four men from each of the regiments I now commanded, plus a full column from the unit I'd always consider

"mine," the Ureyan Lancers, all in full-dress uniform. Thank my personal godling Tanis I'd remembered to bring a couple of freight wagons as well, although they were high-piled by the time the detail had finished and her two retainers sat on the sprung seats in front of Maran's trunks.

"Are you planning to stay until next spring?" I wondered.

"This, darling, is the way nobility travels. Actually, most of the better sort in Nicias are terribly scandalized I didn't bring more than two maids, but was brave enough to travel into the hitherlands without a complete staff." She laughed. "Now do you see what you are letting yourself in for? Now we must do all things properly."

"I assume part of that 'properly' is that we shall be very proud to be the parents of a thirteen-month child?"

"No one will ever dream to wonder such a thing of an Agram nte," she said. I wanted to take her into my arms and feel our baby next to me, but I could not I was about to inquire, but noticed there were soldiers approaching, so chose my words delicately. "Is... everything all right?"

"You mean the heir?" Maran said, evidently not caring a bean for what anyone thought. "He's a perfect child, so far. Hasn't spoiled my figure, and I seldom get sick as the midwife I consulted warned me to expect."

Newly promoted Captain Bikaner, whom Domina Pete had made the Lancers' adjutant, saluted. "Sir. We await your pleasure."

I returned the salute, and took Maria's arm.

"The carriage awaits."

Her eyes widened as we left the dock, and she saw what I'd brought.

* "It's gorgeous," she said. "But what is... was it?" As we walked closer, I told Maran what little I had been able to find of its history. Sometime in the far past, some high nobleman or -woman had visited the tiny city of Entoto, and there'd been a special carriage built, which had been carefully maintained over the decades, which one of my staff legates, on a private scrounging mission, had discovered. Entoto's head of council had cheerfully loaned it to me, and I'd had men polishing, painting, and cleaning since the day I'd heard Maran was on the way. It was enormous, almost as big as the Numantian coronation coach I'd seen in a museum in Nicias. But where that was red and gold, this was black and silver. The coach body sat on two four-wheeled trucks, the wheels taller than I am, and there was room for outriders and guards atop. I'd managed to find eight white chargers to pull it, and they were curried as finely as if they were about to enter a show ring.

Horseman Karjan, whom I'd decided to promote back to lance, held the door open, and we climbed up the steps and he closed the door.

The inside was as large as the exterior suggested, with soft leather seats at the front and back, and servants' pull-down seats against the doors on either side. The windows were glassed, with curtains. There was almost enough room for me to stand, and there were four lanterns to give light, and, hidden in the floor, chests to hold wine and foodstuffs.

I pulled the speaking tube down from its clip in the ceiling, and whistled into it I heard the snap of a whip, and the coach creaked into motion. In front of it rode fifty cavalrymen and behind us more. There were flanking outriders as well, fitting escort for one of Numantia's noblest countesses.

We moved through Cicognara on the road that led to Entoto and the army's headquarters.

Maran was looking about, wide-eyed. I took off my helmet, and laid it to one side.

"Now," I said, reaching out and pulling her to me. Her lips opened, and our mouths moved together. I slid my hand up

under her dress, caressing the sweet curve of her buttocks through her silk undergarments. But it only lasted for a moment, and once more she pulled away.

"I suppose," she said, breathing hard, "you would like to fuck me, right here in this coach?"

"The thought had occurred."

"I have a surprise for you, my love," she said. She ran her hand down my chest, until it touched my erect cock, clearly outlined under the light fawn trousers I wore. She ran her fingernails up and down it "We are going to pretend we have never made love before, and are not going to make love until our wedding night."

"Who decided that? Or is that another noble custom?"

"I decided it," she said, her fingers still caressing me. "I want you all at once, then, when we're both quite mad with passion."

"I already am," I protested.

"Then let me make it worse." She bent her head and kissed the head of my cock through the material, then bit it gently, once, twice and my body suddenly jerked.

She pulled back in surprise, seeing the stain spread. "Oh dear," she said. "You weren't jesting." Then she grinned. "At least there's no question you've been faithful.

"But maybe you'll wear dark-colored pants for the ceremony."

"But what about right now," I said, starting to laugh. Tin too old to be showing off wet dreams."

"What do you care," Maran said. "You're a general aren't you? And about to be Count Agram nte. Tell everyone come stains are the required uniform."

I snorted.

Count Agramonte. That evening, as I was trying to sleep, alone, in my tent, I considered. A general. And a nobleman, although Maran had explained that it was by courtesy, and was not hereditary, except so long as I stayed married to her, which I told her I had every intention of doing until I returned to the Wheel.

* I'd sent letters, of course, to my parents, and wished they could meet Maran, and be here for the occasion. But that was an impossibility—I doubted if my letters would even reach our jungle estate before the ceremony.

I mused once more how the gods play their game, and how so much had turned on a single game of rol.

Our wedding was proclaimed a day of feasting and celebration for the army, and General Yonge's skirmishers had combed the country for delicacies, although I heard it grated for them to have to pay for what they purchased with gold rather than a sword-tip as they would in enemy territory.

Seer Tenedos had summoned me, and announced he would perform the ceremony, unless I wished otherwise, and named the site. I thanked him profusely, and said I could think of no greater honor. Neither Maran nor I had any particular religious bent, and cared little if a priest or a «««=! jvrfnrmaA *- —---------

______„ „ ,voi ui a sage perrormeu tne ceremony.

r

"You do me the honor, my friend," Tenedos said. He smiled wryly, and said something odd: "Now you see how I use all those about me."

"Pardon me, sir?'

"Your marriage will be a great day for my army, something they'll talk about for the rest of their lives, how Damastes the Fair, General of Cavalry, married just before the army marched off to subdue the rebellious Kallians. You see?"

"No sir, I don't," I said honestly, although now I do understand what he was saying and possibly even warning.

All that was beyond me, and, besides, I wanted to ask him if he was sure he'd chosen the right location.

' have, indeed."

"But—"

"You just show up, O Nervous Groom. The rest is in the capable hands of a wizard." And so it was.

Tenedos had chosen the strangest of all spots for the ceremony. To the north of Entoto was an enormous ruined cathe-

dral, almost a palace. No one knew to what god it had been built; in fact, there were even stories that it had been constructed by the gods themselves, in the days before, when they sometimes lived on this earth.

I'd looked at it when we first retreated to Entoto, in the hopes we might somehow use it for military purposes, but had abandoned the idea, less for fear of sacrilege to forgotten deities than because of its decay.

All that remained were huge stone steps leading up from the rutted dirt road, and the four stone walls that stretched toward the heavens for more than feet, crumbling at the top, but with never a buttress or reinforcement to keep them from falling. The windows were arched, the glass long shattered, and the floor of the single chamber was covered with arcane scripts that men said were epitaphs for those buried underneath.

There were more than a thousand soldiers in formation around the church, and behind them cookfires for the feasting and barrels of wine and beer for the drinking to come. It was an unhappy trooper who found himself stuck with duty on this occasion.

It had stormed hard mat night, but the rain stopped for a moment as I rode up to the ruin.

I dismounted and handed the reins of Lucan to a soldier— newly promoted Lance Karjan had been invited as my guest, and waited within. I was to one side of the steps, and Maran walked into view on the other.

She wore a white gown of silk with lace paneling, with a long train being carried by her maids. She'd curled her hair in ringlets that outlined her face, with a lace headcovering that fell around her shoulders.

She looked afraid, and somewhat lost I felt pity for a moment—she was one of the only three women in the vast horde of men, far from home and family, and then felt a swell of pride at her courage in coming to me, in being willing to wed a mere soldier, far beneath her in class.

Tenedos appeared at the head of the stairs, spread out his * hands, and began chanting in an unknown tongue. As he spoke, thunder growled, and I felt the patter of rain.

From nowhere girls danced, young girls, wearing the white outfits of spring, and they had baskets of flowers that they cast in front of Maran and me as we walked toward each other. I do not know if they were apparitions called up by Tenedos or if they were the virgins of Entoto, although I'd seen no girls that fair in my visits to the town.

I saw no band, but music swelled as we met, turned, and started up the steps.

Over the music I heard commands being barked, and a saber guard marched out of the rain. The orders were shouted by General Le Balafre. The soldiers marched toward us, sabers shouldered, then, on command, crashed to a halt, turned, and their sabers flashed out to form an arch. Each man wore the sash of a general. The army was giving us its highest honor.

I swear it was raining, and the sky was gray, but from somewhere shot a beam of sunlight, and the polished blades shot facets of light about us as we entered the ruin.

Thunder crashed, and rain poured. It should have been chill and miserable in the roofless devastation, but it was not.

Tenedos's magic turned the raindrops into drifting flowers that spun and twisted as they floated toward the stone floor. I smelled their perfume as we walked forward.

Tiny braziers formed a corridor we walked up, and from each of them coiled a different-colored plume of sweet smoke, an army of hues far vaster than the burner could have conceivably produced.

Men and, yes, women filled the room. Some of them I knew, and had personally invited—Yonge, Karjan, Bikaner, Evatt, Curti—others I was proud to have served with. Others I knew not Maran gasped inadvertently, recognizing someone who was in reality far distant, then I almost followed suit, because I saw, for only a few moments, Maran's friend Amiel, then the faces of my father, Cadalso, my mother, Serao, and my sisters.

Later I received letters from them, saying they'd dreamed they were at my wedding, and were able to describe it exactly.

Tenedos stood at the end of the chamber, and we stopped just before him.

He bent his head in prayer:

"I am the Seer Laish Tenedos," he said, and his voice boomed through the chamber, "asked by this man and this woman to join them in matrimony.

"I pray to the gods of Numantia their union be blessed. I pray to Umar"—his voice fell silent, and I wondered if he'd had the courage to silently call upon Saionji—"and Irisu. I call upon Aharhel to name these two with favor to her subjects. Let those gods who rule the elements, Varum for water; Shahriyas for fire; Jacini for earth; Elyot for air, bless them. May Isa, our own god of war, grant them safety from his fierceness. May Jaen give them the powers of love, both in ecstasy and in comfort. May our own god of Nicias, Panoan, bless them. Let their own gods smile, Vachan, wise monkey god of Cimabue; Tanis, who watches over the fate of Damastes and his family; Maskal, god of the Agram ntes, all, all, heed my prayer and grant your boons to these two. "So we pray, so we all pray."

He lowered his hands, and there was silence. Then he spoke once more.

"This day is sacred as the day when a man and woman wed. These two are Maran, Countess of Agramonte, and General Damastes a Cimabue.

"They have sworn their love and devotion, and vow there shall be no others to come between them. They wish to join their lives together...."

If I hadn't had exact instructions, I would have missed the tumoff from the main road. The rain came in drifting sheets as the white horse pulled our small carriage up the lane, winding through the thick forest It was not yet the Tune of Change, but the leaves around us had begun to change to reds, bronzes, yellows.

fi The lane ended in a clearing, with a great tree in its center whose branches were a perfect umbrella.

The cottage sat to one side, almost buried in the red ivy that curled around it. It was small, built of multishaded woods, and cleverly crafted, all corners rounded and curved, so it was almost like a small, furry animal's burrow.

I pulled the horse up, stepped out, and handed Maran down.

A man in Lancers' uniform appeared from nowhere and, without speaking, led the horse and carriage away.

I barely noticed, having eyes only for Maran.

I took her hand, and we walked to the door, and pulled the latchstring.

The door swung open, and we entered. It was early afternoon, but the rain had made it dark enough for the two lamps to give welcome light, and the crackling fire warmth.

I do not know where Tenedos found this marvelous place, but we fell in love with it. There were only four rooms: this living room, a loft bedroom above it, a small kitchen, and, behind it, a very large bathroom, built over a rocky pool heated by unseen springs. But neither one of us noted these details.

We had but three days, but now I felt I had all the time in the world.

I lifted my helmet off, and cast it into a corner. Maran, her eyes solemn, never leaving mine, came close, and her fingers slowly unbuttoned my tunic, and I slid out of it, and pulled off my shirt.

There was a chair behind me, and I fell back into it. She pulled my boots off, then I stood as she unbuttoned my trousers and I stepped out of them.

Maran turned her back, and my fingers moved down the long line of buttons of her gown, and it fell in a pool about her feet. All she wore was a transparent white lace undergarment that began between her legs, ran vertically in the rear until it reached the base of her spine, then Y-ed out to reach over her shoulders and down to her sex, barely widening enough to conceal her nipples.

I ran a fingernail down the smoothness of her stomach, and she shuddered, her eyes closing.

I lifted her in my arms, and laid her down on the carpet, barely noticing another marvel, that it was as warm and soft as a comforter. I kissed her eyelids, the edges of her lips, caressed the inside of her mouth with my tongue, the rims of her ears, her neck, slipped the straps of her undergarment, and teased her nipples with my teeth.

She lay with her hands together, above her head, as I moved my lips down over her stomach. Her hips lifted and I slipped the undergarment away. Her knees lifted and spread as I slipped between them, lips moving on her shaven satin, tongue sliding inside her, warmth meeting warmth.

"Oh, Damastes," she whispered. "Oh, my husband. Now we are one."

I rose to my knees, and guided my cock into her, measuring its length within her as her legs embraced me, her nails rasping on the rug above her head as we moved in the rhythms of love, little heeding the storm roaring outside.

"How does it feel to be doing this legitimately?" I asked.

"You know," Mar&i said, and I saw in the flickering firelight that her expression was quite serious, "I never felt what we were doing was wrong.

"I just wish I'd met you when I was seventeen."

"Now what would the chances have been of me, a country legate of what, twenty, being able to woo the beautiful, virginal daughter of one of the richest families of Numantia? I would have been horsewhipped off your estates by one or maybe all of your brothers. Things like that happen only in the romances."

"I wonder," she said. "I'll always wonder."

"Do you know when I first fell in love with you?" Marin asked. We lay side by side.

"The first time I held your hand, and lifted my eyebrows'?" "Stop being lascivious! It was when Hernad...

when a certain person who shall never be named told you that 'the lit-

* tie woman knows how to please,' the very first night we met, and the way you looked at him. I'd never seen such contempt before. Do you remember?"

"I do. But I thought I kept better control of my features." "No, my Damastes. I fear you can be read like a book, at least by me. For instance, I can tell what you are thinking at this very moment."

"That's hardly much of a challenge," I said. "You can feel what I'm thinking, too." I rifted her thigh over mine, then came to my knees, pulling her legs over my thighs until her sex was close against me and I was fully inside her. She locked her legs around my back, and pulled herself back and forth, each time almost letting me come free. I slipped my thumb down, moving it gently across her clitoris, and her back arched as she moaned, then screamed aloud as her body spasmed.

I felt my own throbbing build, pulled out of her, and moved up over her, rubbing my cock between her breasts and then I came, gasping as I spattered across her body.

Maran smiled up at me, breath still coming hard, and began rubbing my semen over her nipples and breasts.

"A lotion to keep you forever mine," she murmured, and licked her finger.

"What do you want your son to be named?"

"I didn't know it was going to be a son. Or did you visit another mage without telling me?"

"I just know it will be a boy."

"Thank you, my wizardess. We can name him after your father."

"No."

"All right, then my father."

"Can't we give him a fresh beginning?"

"Mar&i, isn't this a little ..." I stopped myself. "Very well. Let's name him Laish. That seems to be a very lucky name these days."

She considered.

"Yes," she said, finally. "Yes. That is a very good name."

**

She was lying on her stomach, staring at the dying embers of the fire. It must have not been far from dawn.

I was lying on one elbow beside her, admiring the way the fire outlined her sleekness. She got up and went into the bathroom. I heard her rummaging around in one of her cases, then she returned and lay back down.

"Can I ask you something?"

"I never knew you had to answer all these questions on your wedding night."

"You don't," she said, and her tone was strange. "Not if you're unlucky."

I grimaced, ashamed I'd accidentally led the conversation onto uncomfortable ground.

"You can ask anything, you can tell anything," I said, and hugged her around the hips.

"Once, when we were on a picnic, you started to do something, and I stopped you from going any further.

Do you remember?"

Suddenly I did, and said so.

"Damastes... make love to me again. Please. Make love to me... that way."

I felt a chill. I was wondering what I should say, and she turned her head and looked at me.

"Please, my darling?" There was urgency in her tone. I nodded. She gave me what was in her hand, and I saw it was a tube of unguent.

I caressed her buttocks, and moved my finger between them, and she flinched.

"Maran," I whispered. "I don't think this is right. I don't want to hurt you." My cock was limp against my thighs.

"You must... and I know you'll never hurt me. Please. This is important."

I began caressing her back, then moved my hand between her legs, stroking her sex, feeling the wetness I'd left from our lovemaking. After a time, her breathing became faster, became panting. I responded, growing hard once more. I lifted her hips * and slid a pillow under them, then moved her thighs apart and knelt over her. I slid gently into her. She gasped. "Not there, I meant—" "Hush!"

I moved slowly, long regular strokes, and her gasps became moans, her hands digging at the carpet. Now I put unguent on my finger, and put it in her, moving it in a circle, feeling my cock inside her body as it moved and my finger caressed. She cried out in pleasure, and I put another oiled finger beside the first, both moving, moving.

"Oh yes, oh now, oh Damastes, I'm ready," and I felt her pulse back and forth around my fingers.

"Ready for what?"

"Oh please, fuck me, oh fuck me where I want it, where I told you to, please, do it, do it back there, oh please, put it in me, I can't stand it any longer," and I pulled my cock free, touched her open ring with its head and pushed, and she screamed and bucked, ramming her buttocks hard against my thighs, swallowing me in her, her hands clawing at mine as I supported myself on them. I pulled back until I was almost free, then buried myself in her as she writhed in passion, no more than a dozen times and then I, too, shouted aloud as we came together and collapsed.

We may have laid like that for minutes, or forever. I don't know.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you."

"Thank you. It's over now."

I said nothing.

"I like feeling you... back there. We can do that again."

But we never did.

Three days ... I think we ate a day or so, slept every now and then, and spent even more time in the hot spring. But mostly we loved, loved and laughed. Blood and winter lay just ahead, but our love made a strong fortress, and kept the wolves of doom away.

I remember those three days as one long orgasm, of gasping lust and slow, serious, rolling joy, and wondered if I would ever be as happy again.

Then it came to an end.

Maran went back to Nicias.

And I went back to war.

There weren't enough hours, there weren't enough days, for Bay men to be ready for battle in time. We drilled, trained, cursed, and drilled once more.

I'm sure no soldier felt anything but hatred for his warrants, they for my officers and my officers for me, but there would be no more disasters like the Imru River if I had anything to do with the matter.

Little by little, the new recruits were becoming soldiers, although they were hardly as good as my Lancers.

But exercises can only do so much—the final test of a soldier is in blood. We developed new tactics, officers learning as much as the new men. Of course the most serious grumbling was done by the old-timers, who'd "never seen an army run this way." The novices knew no better, and so found these new ideas no more or less perplexing than anything else.

Possibly the biggest change came from Tenedos himself. He'd vowed magic was as important a piece of the passage of arms as anything else, which Chardin Sher's cadre of wizards had proven. Now it would be our turn. He had recruiters out throughout Numantia, seeking out magi who wished to serve their country, and day by day they trickled into camp and were slowly, reluctantly, absorbed into the army. If we'd had more time, and if there weren't the charred corpses at the Imru River, it might have been amusing, to see all these sages, experienced with demons and spells, but having no more idea whether they should salute a private or a general than how to wind a crossbow. But they learned, and we learned the new tactics of sorcery Tenedos proposed to employ.

When the monsoon grew too fierce we moved under canvas, great umbrellas the men could crowd into and watch tiny f, battles being laid out on sand-tables. Then, when the storm abated slightly, they went into the field, to practice.

The Time of Rains came to an end, and the Tune of Change began, and we were still not ready.

General-Seer Tenedos announced we'd march against Kallio in two weeks.

One of Laish Tenedos's most famous sayings, made years later when he was emperor, was "I don't care how skilled a soldier is. Is he luckyV He meant more than just being able to survive a battle unwounded—Myrus Le Balafre, for instance, rarely left the most minor engagement without some injury. He meant battle-luck, primarily, in which a warrior is able to be in exactly the right place—for him—and the wrong place—for his enemy— without ever planning the maneuver.

Tenedos said once I was the luckiest of all his tribunes. Perhaps so, although I wonder now. Perhaps I am the unluckiest, since I am the last survivor of those splendid, bloody days. But regardless of today, I have had much luck, in small things as well as great.

One such was what I chose to wear the morning I was summoned to the seer-general's tent. One of the hundreds of wedding presents I'd received was a handmade knife from General Yonge. Where, in this wilderness, he'd found a knifemaker of such great skill, I didn't know. But it was a beautiful blade of ondanique steel, about eight inches long, slightly curved, single-edged with its upper edge sharpened. Its hilt and pointed pommel were of worked silver, and its grip a wonderful mosaic of multicolored woods. Its sheath and belt were of patterned leather and silver as well.

I buckled it about my waist as I left my tent, slinging my sword in a baldric over my shoulder.

It was blowing cold, but the army was alive with movement as the constant drills continued. I was just one more horseman, anonymous under a cloak, and no one paid me the slightest attention.

I reached Tenedos's tent, the guards recognized me, saluted, stepped back, and I tapped on the tent pole.

"Enter," Tenedos said, and I obeyed.

'I have a letter for you," he said, and for an instant I felt my stomach crawl—something had happened to Mar£n. "It was brought to the border under white flag yesterday morning. The outer envelope was addressed to me, with a note asking the inner one be given to you." He handed it over. It was addressed: To the Cimabuan named Damastes who styles himself a General.

It took a moment to recognize the handwriting, then I knew it to be Elias Malebranche. What the devils could the Kallian want with me? I tore it open, and took out the single page within. It was thick, heavy, and felt strange to the touch, like oilskin. I unfolded it and began reading:

My spies have informed me that you have so fooled the charlatan Tenedos that he has promoted you to an absurd rank, far beyond what a bumpkin of your lineage could possibly manage. I look forward to meeting you on the field of battle and personalty destroying you.

I also understand you took a wife recently, which I found even more risible, since the slut was well-known in Nicias before your return for tumbling every long-dicked, unwashed nobleman within the city's reach—

I could read no more of Malebranche's lies. I crumpled the letter, threw it to the floor, and began to snarl an obscenity.

But before I could speak, the balled paper grew, turning, swelling, lengthening, and the parchment changed, and between the seer and myself was a huge snake, fifteen feet long, its body nearly as thick as my thigh, its fangs dripping, and a horrible hissing filled the tent.

Tenedos pulled back as it struck, then it turned on me, yellow eyes glaring, smoke pouring from its open mouth.

My sword was in my hand, and I slashed at the monster, but my blade passed harmlessly through the creature. Again I f, struck, as its head struck, lower jaw smashing into my arm, sending my sword spinning.

It threw a coil around Tenedos, and he gasped agony. Outside the tent, I heard shouts of alarm, but the guards would be far too late, as the snake drew back for its deathstroke, fangs oozing poison.

My dagger was in my hand and I flung myself on the serpent, my arm around it just below its head. Again I struck, and again I might have been stabbing air. But I'd at least enraged the beast, and it turned away from Tenedos, on me. I tried to block with the pommel of my knife, knowing death an instant away. But my blow struck true, thudding into cold muscle, not air, and the snake shrilled pain! I struck again, not knowing why the blade did no harm, but its butt seemed to agonize the apparition.

Its hiss became a scream, and it writhed, thrashing, smashing me against the tent's wooden flooring. But I held on, and then I heard Tenedos cry out, half-strangling, "Silver! Kill it with silver!"

The pommel of my dagger! Once more I bashed at it, and the creature whipped back and forth, sending me rolling away. I was about to dive back on the monster, then remembered my belt of worked silver, and, in desperation, tore it free and jumped toward the snake's head. Somehow I managed to loop it around the serpent, and began twisting, as if I could somehow strangle it The hissing scream grew louder, still louder, and the monster contorted, beating me against the floor, but I hung on grimly, nothing else in the world but my hands pulling at that belt, tighter, ever tighter, and then there came a final convulsion and the beast shuddered and was still.

I managed to get to my knees. Tenedos lay motionless, facedown, a few feet away. The tent door was ripped open, and there were soldiers there. Then Tenedos stirred, groaned, and pushed himself up to his knees.

"Ah gods," he moaned. An officer ran to him, but the seer waved him away. "No. Wait." He carefully felt down his rib

cage as he gasped for air. "I... think... they're unbroken," he managed. He tottered to bis feet, and came to me.

"Are you all right?" I managed to stand, and felt pain shoot through me. But I, too, had nothing broken, even though every inch of my body was bruised.

"That bastard," I said, as winded as Tenedos.

Tenedos turned to look at the snake's body, andl followed. My eyes widened: The great beast was vanishing, wisping away in vile-smelling green smoke as I watched.

"Quick, Damastes! Give me your dagger! And your sword!" I obeyed, finding my sword in a corner.

Tenedos took them and hobbled to the fast-vanishing body of the serpent. He touched the two blades to it, and chanted:

"Steel remember Remember defeat. Learn from silver Feel the foe. Remember your shame Another time Another place. Then remember Then atone Then strike At the heart At the man At the disgrace."

By the time he finished, the monster's body had vanished completely, and there was nothing left but the fast-vanishing stench. The soldiers were babbling, and Tenedos shouted for silence.

"Your guardsmen are dismissed. You did no wrong—what came, came from outside. Return to your posts. I am well."

They obeyed. Tenedos touched his ribs and winced.

' lied," he said. "I'll have a chirurgeon bind these for a few days." He bent and picked up a decanter of brandy. "Ah. At * least the demon left us with two glassfuls. Will you alter your habits for the moment?"

I did, and he found unbroken glasses and poured. "Most interesting," he mused, and he seemed completely undisturbed. "And very clever. I must meet this master sorcerer of Chardin Sher's, for he is a man to learn from.

"What a subtle way to attack me, through you. I could sense no spell, since it was dormant until you did what you did to the letter. "Malebranche deliberately wrote it to anger you, knowing you'd destroy it I imagine there were other variations if you'd, say, thrown it into a fire, to produce the monster. "Very clever indeed."

"Maybe so, sir. But this is the second chance... third, if you count the fog-demons in Kait and allow for Malebranche's involvement, that shit-heel has had to kill me, I'd like a chance to be a little clever with him."

"You shall, Damastes, you shall, if the stars are right. Since Malebranche feels some special enmity toward you, I sealed your weapons to him. Perhaps, if you meet on the field of battle, that will give you a bit of an advantage."

"I don't want an advantage, I want his guts for a winding sheet!"

"General k Cimabue, calm down. Drink your brandy."

I did, and Tenedos took his own advice.

"Yes," he mused, "Chardin Sher is proving himself an excellent enemy. It's almost as if he had been listening to what you and Domina Petre said some time ago, about the need to strike for the enemy's heart. Except that he's taking it to its extreme.

"Very, very interesting. I think we should follow his fine example ourselves."

Another letter reached me that shook me even more deeply:

My dearest dearest I do not mean to worry you, but I've been advised by my midwife that our child in my womb is in delicate health. She has instructed me to keep my chambers, take no exercise, and to guard myself well for the months to come.

She says our son needs great care to ensure his birth will go well.

I asked her if my traveling up to see you and marry you could have anything to do with it, and she said she wasn 't sure, but did not think so.

Since I love our son, whom I dream of daily, nearly as I love you, I shall obey her commands.

Forgive me, darling, if I write no more, as I'm quite upset by this. I shall send another letter on the morrow, when my spirits revive.

Your dearest wife Mardn Three weeks later, halfway through the Time of Change, our soldiers still only half-trained, we marched west against Chardin Sher.

TWENTY-SIX Into Kallio We smashed over the border into Kallio an hour after dawn, scattering the light defenses like chaff. Seer-General Tenedos had found a new way of moving secretly.

The magicians he'd recruited had cast spells of normalcy, if that's the correct description, so it appeared that the army was still at Entoto. The plan, which worked perfectly, was that an army moving in "silence" was impossible, so therefore it wasn't happening.

Another thing in our favor was the time of year; no one ever, not ever, began a campaign halfway through autumn, for all the soldiers were busy building winter quarters, not intending to take the field until after the Time of Storms.

We moved fast, and our New Army showed its merits. Instead of taking sixteen days to reach the Imru River, we took four, moving in forced marches and abandoning those who could not keep up. Wagons that broke down or horses that gave out were turned over to the quartermasters bringing up the rear. They were to be repaired or stripped for parts, and the animals either healed or butchered for meat As for the men who straggled, they were rounded up by provosts, informed they were no longer part of their units, and would join heavy

work gangs, little better than slaves, until they proved their willingness or ability to march and fight. This was the time for steel to be tempered. The border between Kallio and Dara is no more than a creek, and their defenses were intended to do no more than give warning to Chardin Sher's main force a day's travel distant behind fortification.

We hit the border guards hard, but of course there were survivors who escaped to sound the warning. We didn't pause, but marched on, all through that day, and by night we'd come on the Kallians' camp.

As our magic and spies had told, Chardin Sher was building major fortifications. But he'd been doing it leisurely, not expecting our attack until spring, and so they were but half-finished. They would have been formidable, when complete. Pits and embedded stakes were used to cleverly divide the attacking force into separate elements.

Once the attackers— our army—had been divided, then it would be led into killing zones where magic, archery, and spears would destroy us.

There were three defensive lines laid out. They began with a deep ditch, filled with brush to make the obstacle harder to cross. Just behind the ditch rose a steep earthen wall, about twenty-five feet tall. The wall was manned by the first line of defenders, then came the secondary ditch, wall, and its defenders; then a third, and then the army's camp. But only the first line was finished, the second was half-built, and only the ditch was dug for the third. To go out in front of the lines was through one of the six gates, but these were barricaded shut and well defended.

Chardin Sher, not being a fool, had realized he'd challenged the entire Numantian nation, and so ordered conscription throughout Kallio. He had, in total, about a million men under arms, most still training, of course, and had moved almost , of them to the border. Against him marched a quarter of a million Numantians, with a million more being trained or shipped to Entoto. His willingness to wage war, merely counting heads, seemed absurd. But he'd taken the measure, or so he thought, of his foe, and would hardly worry about troops as easy to fool and destroy as we'd been on the Imru. I suspect he thought, correctly, that all Numantia was tired of the Rule of Ten's ineptitude and ready for change. They may have been, but Imru, and Seer Tenedos, created a cause and a rallying point. Also, he no doubt intended to deal us a sharp defeat once more, and then negotiate or terrify the Rule of Ten into meeting his conditions.

Even seeing our army march toward his lines, Chardin Sher must have thought he still had time. Previously, we would have taken up battle positions that afternoon, then developed defensive lines over the next few days while each side decided its strategy, and only then would the two armies creak into battle.

Instead, we attacked at false dawn the next morning. Again, our new organization helped. Since we marched into battle order, with no supernumeraries and camp followers to shuffle aside, we were ready to move against the Kallian positions that had already been well scouted by Yonge's skirmishers. Tenedos, his devoted adjutant Captain Othrnan, and the generals had developed our attack as we closed on the Kallians.

As if fooled, we even attacked into those zones intended for our destruction, as Chardin Sher had hoped.

But since we knew his intent, we broke our army into completely separate forces before battle, so there was no real division; rather, it was as if separate armies were moving against the same goal. In command of the Left was General Hern, the Right General Le Balafre, and Seer-General Tenedos himself ordered the Center.

My cavalry, once more, was held back, but no one was upset, knowing horsemen cannot attack entrenchments. We would exploit any openings when they developed.

The Kallians were surprised, but fought back bravely, stopping the Center Wing cold as they came out of the first deep trench. The lead regiment should have ignored its casualties, and fought on. But their domina and company commanders were dead, and so they milled around, easy targets for arrows and spears fired from the wall above. Among them was Cyril-

los Linerges, and it was here that he first distinguished himself. As I'd thought, he'd done better than keep his old sergeant's strips when sworn in—there were far too few experienced soldiers for him to hold no higher rank.

Instead, after a few days' probation, he was given a legate's sash and a half-company of infantry. Promotions, in peacetime, come slow and hard. But in war, they shower like the monsoon for the brave and the lucky.

Linerges shouted for the troops behind him, still on level ground, to rip the Kallian stakes out of the ground and tie them together in threes. He seized the fallen regimental colors and, holding them high, scrambled out of the ditch, standing just below the wall, heedless of the arrow-storm coming down at him, and shouted, "Men who fear not death... attack!" There were enough of those yet living to scramble up the dirt wall, paying no heed to the defenders'

spear-shower, and fall on the Kallians with sword, dagger, and clawed hands, and then the enemy ramparts were a melee of confusion.

Then the tied stakes were thrown against the steep dirt walls and men of other regiments swarmed up them.

Chardin Sher's men on the wall wavered, and just then Le Balafre's forces broke through on the right and, not much later, the Left Wing followed suit and the first wall was ours.

Other stakes were tied into bridges and thrown over the ditches, just as the storming foot soldiers tore away the barricades, smashed open the gates, and bugles sounded for the cavalry.

We went forward at the trot, long lines of horsemen moving toward the smoke and dust of battle, some streaming through the gates, other regiments flanking the entire battlefield.

Chardin Sher's army broke, but it had held long enough for Chardin Sher and his top command to flee east and south, into the heart of Kallio. Domina Petre took his Lancers around the right flank in pursuit, but didn't make contact, and, disappointed, turned back after an hour's pursuit.

The rest of us drove into the enemy camp. We carried flam-

* ing torches to set fires and slashed down tent ropes as we galloped. Those who had the bravery to stand against us were spitted on lances, or cut down with sabers. The Kallians cast weapons aside, and we heard cries of

"Mercy," and saw improvised white flags flutter.

Now began the real nightmare of war. I've spoken of the blood of dying men, men wounded in every ghastly manner imaginable and beyond imagination. Worse was the fate of the poor animals, horses, and mules, who had no reason for quarrel but suffered and died with their masters. But there were greater horrors, as the soldiers stormed through the army's camp. There was wine, and there were women. Willing or not, they found new masters that night. Men and boys who'd been free before the battle became slaves... or were murdered in the redness of slaughter.

Men who'd been the bravest of heroes an hour earlier sometimes now committed the most awful barbarities, and it was excused them as the "rights of soldiers in victory." This is what war has always been and what war will always be, and I wish those who are so quick to cry for bloodshed and soldiers could have walked among the flames and heard the screams. It was terrible... but it was nothing compared to what I would see in other battles, other wars.

Officers allowed their men license until midnight, then with the soberest warrants went out and ended the rapine. Sometimes a word was enough, sometimes a blow, even, a few times, a sword thrust, to break up a melee.

It was fortunate for our captives that we'd driven the army hard to reach the battlefield, because exhaustion struck the conquerors down before long, and then the field was quiet except for the crackle of flames and the whimpers of the wounded and torn.

At dawn, the army reformed. But other units, the thirteen elite, had for the most part held back from the license of the night, and were already on the move. In the old way of fighting, we would have marched back across our borders and sent envoys to Chardin Sher, asking if he had learned his lesson.

But this was new, this was Tenedos's manner of making war, and so by midday the entire army was moving east again, with only one objective:

Chardin Sher.

We would destroy anything that tried to stop us.

The light cavalry moved in front, acting as scouts. With the command elements of each cavalry regiment went sorcerers, and at regular stops they'd send their special senses out, seeking signs of the enemy.

Behind the light cavalry moved the new mounted infantrymen, dragoons on muleback. Interspersed with them were heavy cavalry, for support.

Then came Yonge's skirmishers and the rest of the army. Among them was a newly promoted domina, Cyrillos Lin-erges. Our attack on Chardin Sher's camp had caused far more casualties than we'd taken, and the swiftness of our assault had been far less bloody than if we'd laid siege to their lines, but there'd still been many, many corpses and cripples—gaps in the ranks to fill. Linerges was but one such lightning promotion.

We moved through the rich countryside like a plague of locusts, looting and laying waste as we went. The Rule of Ten would be well pleased, as Tenedos had predicted, at the way he waged war. Nicias's treasuries remained full, and we ate the beeves, fowl, and winter-stored supplies of the Kallian people, and found our remounts in their stables. Their leader had begun this civil war, and so they must bear the cost.

The Tune of Change should have been harsher, colder, but it was quite mild, and I needed only a lined jacket under my mail most days, and was grateful for the warmth of my fur-lined sleeping roll at night I wondered if Tenedos's goddess Saionji was favoring him, and holding back the winter.

Kallio was a beautiful land, not spectacular with great canyons, rivers, and peaks, but gentle, rolling countryside, ideal for farming or ranching. War had never come to this state within memory, and so the people were as fat and comfortable as their oxen.

__,. „», w tamer side of the army, each part accompanied by a quartermaster's wagon. The army ate well as we marched on, always easting, and (he days grew into weeks. Tenedos's orders were that each farm was to be left enough for its people's survival during the winter, but I fear that command was honored more in the breach.

Any resistance was met with fire and sword, and the army's progress was marked by smoke pyres rising along our trail. Too often these were funeral pyres as well, as farmers decided to fight for what was in the pens and granaries.

We were moving too fast for the Kallians; they seemed bewildered at our speed. We encountered only scattered units as we rode, and their resistance was mostly brief—an ambush, a volley of arrows, and then they fled.

A few times, though, brave yeomen formed home-guard companies, partisans actually, and these fought bitterly, often to the last man, for their land and possessions. Their courage was admired, but admiration did not extend to mercy.

Sometimes their stand would be aided by a village or town witch or wizard, but just as audacious fanners were no match for Yonge's skirmishers or my cavalry, so a local sage's ploy would be discovered and turned against him by one of Tenedos's wizards.

Word spread that it was suicide to stand against the Numan-tians. The best way to stay alive was to flee, to surrender and cooperate. There was no third option.

It was brutal, but as Tenedos said, "The best, cleanest way to make war is total. Begin it quickly, end it the same, and there will be fewer deaths to mourn and misery to endure."

There were no battles worthy of the name, merely skirmishes, but each day gave our half-trained recruits more experience and confidence as the army shook itself out.

The image of our army that no doubt occurs is of brave riders, brass polished, armor shining, horses curried as if for the ring, as we rode through Kallio. Let me describe one cavalry troop: There were perhaps seventy horsemen, far fewer than the the rolls called for to be at full strength. The horses, while fat with grain, were no more than cursorily brushed, their winter coats shaggy, manes and tails matted and worn. The men's tack was scuffed and muddy, frequently hastily mended with rawhide. The soldiers' clothing was ragged, filthy, and not infrequently civilian or that of the enemy. Sometimes dirty or bloody bandages showed.

Helmets were strapped to the saddle, not the head, and held eggs or perhaps some dried fruit. Wine bottles protruded from the saddle rolls, and perhaps a chicken, duck, or goose dangled from the saddle. Saddlebags bulged with looted riches that could be easily carried and traded for an even shinier bauble.

The only thing that gleamed about these men were their always-ready weapons—and their wary eyes. The gods should have had mercy on anyone who dared stand against my cavalrymen, but they did not.

My dearest Damastes Yesterday morning, our child, and it would have been a boy, died, in premature birth. The midwife did what she could, summoning the best chirurgeons and sorcerers of Nicias.

I wish you could have been here. Perhaps if you were, this would not have happened. Perhaps my worry about you harmed our boy.

Now, I mourn alone, and cry for you, for me, and for him.

I am so very sorry, I swear to you, I did nothing wrong that I know of. Perhaps I did something to anger the gods. I do not know. But I cannot pray, cannot ask forgiveness.

The world is empty for me.

Mardn Empty for me, empty for her. I knew not what to do. Tene-dos must have heard, for he rode forward, and offered his sym-K pathies. I hope I made the correct responses. I wrote a letter back, trying to soothe her, trying to reassure her that these tilings happened, that our child was spared the pain of life, but returned swiftly to the Wheel, where all was good and easy.

But I did not believe it for a moment.

I wanted to turn my duties over to another, and go to Nicias, and be with my wife. But that was impossible.

Nor could I allow this tragedy to affect me. I had too many others, men who also had wives and children, thousands of them, dependent on my being able to think clearly and move precisely.

A priest came, tried to offer condolences, saw the look on my face, and fled.

I walked out from the camp, ignoring the challenge of the sentries, and stared up at the skies where the gods supposedly lived.

I wished them all, each and every one of them, to be torn by demons and feel a bit of Mardn's and my agony.

I shut off my soul then and let the killing fields welcome me.

A rider came from Domina Petre, requesting my presence, if possible. I did not have the time, but it was the Lancers, and so I rode forward.

The regiment was camped in the ruins of a village that had either stood against them, or else had been put to the match by looters. A grim Petre saluted me.

"General, this is highly irregular, but I thought you should be aware of what has occurred. One of my Lancers, a sergeant, has been found guilty of rape."

"What has that to do with me?" I said shortly. Even though I tried to watch myself, my pain made me short-tempered and capable of even greater anger than my Cimabuan temperament normally allowed.

"The sergeant is named Varvaro, sir," Petre said. "He was with you on the retreat from Kait."

I remembered the cunning climber from the mountains to

our north that bordered Dara and Kallio, the brave volunteer who'd been just behind Yonge on the rope when we went over the ridgeline to counterambush the Men of the Hills.

"Sorry, Mercia," I said. "I am grateful for your informing me. Summon the man."

In a few moments Varvaro was brought before me, guarded by two armed warrants. He looked at me, and then his gaze dropped.

"What happened?" I asked Petre.

"According to his column commander, Sergeant Varvaro was in charge of an advance scouting party. They found a farmhouse, actually a group of them, almost a village. They were checking the buildings for enemy stragglers or partisans, and came upon this woman. Girl, really, perhaps fourteen.

"One of Sergeant Varvaro's men said the girl was almost shaking in fear, but she smiled at the sergeant. He ordered his troopers out of the house, and told them to check the barns once more.

"They protested, but he said it was a direct order, and so they obeyed.

"A few minutes later, they heard screams, ran back inside, and found the girl naked, moaning, and the sergeant fastening his breeches together." "How is the girl now?"

Domina Pete shrugged. "I can't say. Captain Dangom found a witch in another village, and we took the girl to her. The witch said she will recover."

"Varvaro, is this the truth?" I snapped. "Sir, I thought th' bitch wanted it," he said, not lifting his eyes to meet me. "She was leadin' me on."

"What does that matter? No means no. Look at me,

Sergeant."

Varvaro reluctantly raised his eyes.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

There was a long pause. Finally: "Nossir. I guess not.

But... but I ain't had none since Nicias, an' shit like that clouds th' mind."

"You knew the penalty for rape," I said, unwavering. "The people of the land are still Numantians, even though they gave fealty to Chardin Sher. Your duty as a soldier—as a warrant— is to protect the innocent, not ravish them."

"Yessir. But, sir... please, sir." Naked fear was in his stare. I met it, held it, and once more his gaze fell.

"Domina Petre, all is in order. Carry out the sentence!"

"Yes sir!"

An hour later what elements of the regiment that could be assembled were in formation in front of a tall oak, its branches bare against the gray autumn sky. Varvaro was led out, his hands tied behind him. He saw the dangling noose and began crying. They had to lift him onto his horse. The noose was draped about his neck, in spite of his efforts to duck, a hood drawn over his face, and a quirt lashed against the horses flanks.

The horse whinnied, leaped forward, and Varvaro was yanked from the saddle, the noose pulled taut. His untied legs flailed against the air, and he twisted, slowly strangling. Against orders a warrant ran forward, grabbed his legs, pulled, and I heard the snap of his neck breaking.

A hard death from a hard law in a hard war.

I rode back to my headquarters in silence, and Lance Kar-jan, riding behind me, was equally still.

A wonderful story ran round the army within a day of its occurrence: A carriage had been stopped by skirmishers, a carriage that obviously belonged to someone wealthy.

Inside was a very beautiful woman, in her early twenties, and several trunks of clothing.

She announced she was Sikri Jabneel, yes, the Sikri Jabneel, and was to be taken to the seer-general at once. None of the foot soldiers had heard of her, but they figured it was best to be gentle with anyone who looked to be as wealthy as she did. She was passed back through the lines, after both she and her belongings were thoroughly searched, to indignant squeals, and eventually taken to the Seer Tenedos's command area.

She was repeatedly asked what she wanted with Tenedos, and said her wishes were for his eyes only.

I suppose Tenedos's curiosity was roused—she was, and as far as I know still is, very gorgeous and most charming. I also suppose, after the letter from Landgrave Malebranche, that he put out all the sorcerous wards he could think of before going to her, to make sure she wasn't an assassin sent by Chardin Sher.

I do not know, and would very much like to, who was listening to what happened. Tenedos never told me of the incident, nor did Sikri, and Captain Othman never discussed his personal business. But someone's ears were close to the canvas wall of the tent that afternoon.

Tenedos introduced himself, and the woman did as well, expressing her pleasure at his giving her the time, and complimenting him liberally. He asked what she wished, and she pretended mock indignation that he' d never heard of her. She was the toast of Polycittara, indeed, of all Kallio, had even sung her songs in Nicias itself twice, and appeared in a masque before the Rule of Ten. Tenedos, always civil, apologized for his ignorance, and once more, a little wearily, inquired her business.

She giggled, and said that, well, she'd heard so much about him, even though that terrible Chardin Sher forbade any mention of the seer, and desired to see what he was made of for herself. 'Tor," she said, and her words were always told exactly, "I fancy great men, and I have sensed, even though I have no more of the Talent than any of us who play the part of others for only a night, true greatness about you."

Tenedos ignored the compliment. "So Chardin Sher is still in Polycittara?"

"As far as I know," Sikri said, "although I care little about that man, nor about his piddly little city or his piddly little ambitions. I have renounced them, for I am no traitoress, but a true Numantian, and wish to do all I can to help the cause, and bind up the wounds of our poor country."

A good storyteller could relate this in ringing tones, and

suggest that Sikri may have been modifying a speech she'd learned sometime earlier for a stage role.

Tenedos wondered exactly what contributions she thought she could make.

"Why," she said, her voice now a purr, "I was told that you have no one to share your troubles with, no one to help you carry the burden of your duties."

"You mean," Tenedos said, "you want to sleep with me."

Sikri giggled. "Is that not the best way a woman can help a man?"

There came a very long silence, and the unnamed eavesdropper must have assumed the lewdest. But then Tenedos spoke:

"I am deeply honored, my lady. But you should be aware I plan on marriage when this campaign is over, and frankly consider myself affianced."

"What of it," Sikri said. "Is a prize stallion content with only one mare?"

Again, silence, and then a shout for Captain Othman. The singer started to become angry, but Tenedos told her to be silent. Within a few minutes the little adjutant bustled in.

"Captain, this is Sikri Jabneel."

"Pleased, my lady."

"She wished to help our cause to victory. I have accepted. Lady Jabneel, if you wish to remain with us, you may do so, as Captain Othman's leman, under his protection."

"But—"

"Either that, or you shall be escorted out of our lines within the hour and sent back to Polycittara. The choice is yours."

Tenedos left the tent, and the listener must have had to flee, because nothing was ever reported as to what next happened between Othman and the singer.

But an hour later her baggage was moved into the adjutant's tent, and when the army moved out the next day, she rode happily in his staff carriage, the only woman with the army.

It was against policy, against all the rules and regulations.

But the story was too delicious for her presence not to be permitted.

I am afraid I did not laugh when I heard the tale, for I was far too worried about Maran. I'd had no more than two letters, brief notes that said she was recovering since her miscarriage and there were no complications.

I tortured myself about what could be the matter, but somehow found the strength to drive the problem from my mind. It must wait until the war was over.

The ground rose steadily, and we marched across a wide plateau, the Kallian farms smaller and interspersed with woodlands. We moved more slowly, for now there were canyons and draws that required thorough scouting before we could move past them.

The weather grew colder as the Time of Storms began, and gales swept Kallio, the ground freezing at night, then thawing into mire during the day,

We were less than a week's journey from Polycittara, and wondering when the Kallian Army would come out to fight.

I was riding ahead, with the scouts, when we came on the great forest of Kallio. It covered the entire end of the plateau, and swept out like the wings of an enormous bat. We must pass through the center of the crescent, where the land had been cleared and planted, to follow the roads that led down to the Kallian capital.

Waiting in that crescent was Chardin Sher's army.

TWENTY-SEVEN Death in the Forest I his battle would be Chardin

Sher's triumph. He—or I whoever his top general was—had an excellent eye JL for terrain. His forces held the inner part of the crescent, with what appeared to be impenetrable forest on either side to protect his flanks. He occupied higher ground, and the rising country between us offered little cover except for a few tree clumps, ditches, some farmlands, and the tiny village of Dabormida.

The Kallians had dug only hasty trenches for their lines. This didn't mean they'd just arrived at this battle site, nor that they were lazy, but almost certainly that they planned to wait for our attack, inflict as many casualties as possible, then fall back into the forest.

The map showed the woods were no more than three miles thick in the center, so they'd be able to pull back into clear ground on the far side and re-form. When our forces stumbled out of the dense trees in broken order, they'd counterattack and smash us.

So I read the enemy's plans, and Tenedos and other generals agreed.

"However," Tenedos said, a grim smile on his face, "this is where Chardin Sher is going to meet with another surprise.

"We will attack, but not in the manner they expect. Here is my plan."

He went to a table where a covered map lay. He pulled the cover away. "My thrust will be double-pronged," he said. "The first attack will break their careful arrangements and harry them until the second strikes at their throat." The officers considered his plan for long moments, and I heard murmurs of dismay. Tenedos noted them. "Are you generals saying it cannot be done?"

He looked at me first. I considered, then said, "No, sir. I think it can, at least my cavalry will be able to pull it off, assuming we've got enough hours to move, the forest isn't completely impossible and that you'll provide a feint of some sort."

"Good," Tenedos said. "What about the dragoons? General Taitu?"

"Impossible," their commander, an old regular, snapped. "Men' lose sight of their goals, stumble about, make too much noise, and the Kallians'll have us for breakfast."

"I can provide an infallible guide," Tenedos said.

"I guess you're talking about magic, which never holds firm on the battlefield. Still impossible, in spite of what my young colleague dreams. Your plan's too exotic, anyways. It's one of those quick-fix ideas, and we'll lose a third of the army trying it."

"General, thank you for your opinion," Tenedos said, his voice suddenly hard. "Now, will you carry out my orders?"

There was a long silence, then the grizzled veteran shook his head. "No, sir, I will not. I cannot. Your scheme's doomed, and I'll not hazard my dragoons on such a wild plan."

There could be but one response.

"I am grateful for your honesty, General Taitu," Tenedos said. "You are relieved. I want you to turn over your command within the hour to the successor I'll name." He turned to the rest of us. "This was unexpected, so I must ask all of you to step outside for a moment General a Cimabue, will you remain?"

I did. Tenedos's iron reserve broke as the tent flap closed behind the last commander.

f, "Bastard!" he swore. "What the hells do they think an army is for but to fight? I swear to Saionji I shall relieve every general in the army if he refuses to fight when and how I tell him, promote privates, and lead them into battle myself!"

I maintained silence. Tenedos forced calm.

"Very well, Damastes. Who takes over the dragoons? I would have given them to Linerges, but I have a sufficiently difficult task already chosen for him. If he survives the day, he'll get his general's sash."

I had my answer ready. "Petre, sir."

"I should have known. He'll have no trouble going from cavalry to mounted infantry? Very well then. I assume you have a replacement to command your pet Lancers?"

"I do, sir. His name's Bikaner."

Tenedos frowned, then remembered. "Yes. The sergeant who was with us in Kait. Good. It does the army good to see a common soldier brought to high rank. Consider it done. Call the others back, if you would." I started to obey. "No," Tenedos said. "Wait a moment. Two things I'd planned to tell you, and both are for your ears only.

"First, I've sent inquiring spells out, and discovered the name of Chardin Sher's master magician. He's a fellow named Mikael Yanthlus, whose name translates as Mikael of the Spirits. He was once a Maisirian, interestingly enough. I recollect the other mercenary, Wollo I think it was, who was in Achim Fergana's employ. Odd. One day we might find it worthwhile to look into Maisir's affairs, to see why then-natives seem bent on traveling abroad and stirring up trouble. But I veer.

"So, now I know this worthy one's name, I have a bit of power over him. That is one thing. The second is that there shall be a battle spell cast, a large one, before we fight, which I must not describe to anyone. But don't be surprised when it begins, although I don't think, if our strategy works, you or your horsemen will be within hearing or sight of it. But if it succeeds, it shall make things most interesting for the Kallians.

"Now, if you'll tell Captain Othman to send for Domina

Petre and tell him he's now a general, and then summon the others back, we can continue."

There were no other objections to Seer-General Tenedos's battle plan, which wasn't surprising. Relieving an officer is generally the end of his career. In fact, most of the officers seemed impressed by Tenedos's firmness. Men are no different from horses in some regards, and can sense an unsteady hand on the reins.

The attack was set for five days hence. I wondered why Tenedos hadn't ordered the usual immediate attack, but assumed his spell would take some time to prepare, or else the stars or moon wouldn't be right until then.

Not that our army sat idle. Yonge's division of skirmishers was sent into the front lines, with orders to prepare for a series of probing actions. He would be reinforced with Linerges's regiment, which had been rebuilt with replacements to about three-quarters of its strength. Four other regiments were placed under Linerges's command as well, and these would form a new division if the battle was successful.

Finally, three regiments of heavy cavalry were detached from my command to be directly under Tenedos's orders. I wasn't upset—it would have been difficult for them to keep up with the rest of my men when the attack began.

Besides, all three of them were very staid, very traditional units, unlike the Twentieth Heavy Cavalry of the frontier, more resembling the ceremonial Second Heavy Cavalry that had been wiped out during the riots. I'd frequently had to reprimand their dominas for dragging their feet and being unwilling to accept the new standards. In fact, I rather hoped all three officers, and a good number of their staff, might suffer nicely incapacitating wounds, so I could rebuild the regiments as I wished. Four days later, I was to be ashamed of that wish.

Three days before the attack, all mounted troops except the heavy cavalry and one regiment to secure each flank were pulled back behind the lines. It was hoped that Chardin Sher's sorcerers and spies would see this, and figure we were once more being held in reserve until the front was broken.

* Two days before the planned assault, the men of the dragoons were assembled before Tenedos's sorcerers. Curious, I rode over to watch what was going on.

All officers, all warrants, and every fifth man were lined up, and one by one brought before two wizards.

One magician held a Kallian sword in one hand, a shield in the other. He touched the soldier on the head with the flat of the blade, on the heart with the shield. The second stood in a triangle formed by tall braziers that sent red smoke curling into the sky, red being Chardin Sher's chosen color. That mage chanted:

"This is your compass This is your lodestone. You will be drawn You will be led. Follow this sign You will know the path. Your feet will feel Your sword will lead. You will obey You cannot turn."

When they were finished, a wizard explained what the spell gave them. If they became lost in the forest, all they had to do was think of Kallians, and they would be drawn in the right direction.

"And when you come on them," the wizard shouted, "you won't need my magic to tell you what to do, will you, lads?"

The men roared, a hungry roar like a lion about to be unloosed. I noted the wizard's name—Gojjam—as being a worthy leader, since I doubt Tenedos had told his magicians to be rabble-rousers as well.

The day before the battle the fighting began, and Tenedos cast a weather spell. The skies closed, and hail whipped down, becoming rain, then snow, then hail once more.

Yonge's skirmishers went forward in various-sized units, and launched probing attacks on the Kallian lines.

Of course

the Kallians counterattacked, and drove the skirmishers back. Each time, a few men died. An hour later, they'd hit again, in another sector, and again the Kallians would be forced to drive them back. Once an entire Kallian regiment came from the forest edge into the open, and before it could retreat was hit by a combined attack from a column of heavy cavalry and a company of Linerges's infantry. They were pushed back, and, after a pause, another raid was mounted by Yonge's men.

I thought I understood Tenedos's tactics—to drive the Kallians to distraction with these small, stinging attacks, so they' d be paying little attention to other areas of the front—but I was wrong. That was the least part of what Tenedos was doing, although it would be years before I divined the real purpose.

Late that afternoon, my cavalry and Petre's dragoons moved out, some miles west of the Kallian position.

We rode to the edge of the woods, dismounted, and, each man leading his horse or mule, began thrashing our way through the forest. It was terrible going, branches whipping across our faces, across the animals' faces, men stumbling and going down in unseen cracks in the forest floor, horses shrilling and mules braying in anger and confusion, their owners clamping a hand over their muzzles, hoping the clamor of the distant skirmishing would mask our noise. Lance Karjan, just to my rear, proved surprisingly vocal as we pushed on, muttering a steady stream of obscenities, some of which I'd never heard.

It was dark in those trees, dank and freezing. But there was more than the cold to fear—it was as if this forest had never been traversed by man, and was the abode of old gods, gods who were nameless, who paid no fealty to Jacini, but to eldritch deities, demons perhaps, and we all felt chill menace about us.

There were almost , cavalrymen moving through this forest, with , dragoons to our rear. We moved in ten columns, each column sure his shit-brained leaders had picked the absolute roughest route.

Eventually the twilight darkened, and the day ended. VIe * fed our horses from the feedbags tied to our saddles. In these long columns there weren't any officers, any warrant; no one could traverse the line to see how his men were doing. I was just a horseman, no longer a general.

There was only one blessing: One of Tenedos's wizards had developed a spell to keep liquids hot, and so each man had a clay container filled with soup to warm him. That is, if he hadn't smashed it against a tree, as I had mine. Karjan offered me some of his, but I refused, and crouched against a tree, wrapped in my soaked blanket, and gnawed at some dried beef, allowing myself a bit of self-pity in the darkness, worrying about Maran, worrying about myself, worrying about the morrow and how I would do, if we ever broke out of this demon-haunted jungle. It was too cold and wet to sleep, and fairly soon it began raining once more.

But self-pity is a shallow vessel, at least for me, and I found myself grinning at my own misery. We were well and truly lost in this forest that went on forever, and we'd never be seen, but be doomed to wander until time ran out and the Wheel stopped, and Msu wondered where several thousand of his subjects had gotten off to and looked for us.

Sometime in the night, it froze, and I guess I slept, because I opened my eyes to grayness and long knives of ice hanging from the tree branches around me.

Lucan was looking at me, wondering why I'd chosen to put him through this torture. I fed him once more, and gave him a treat of some brandy-soaked sugar I had in a twist of oiled paper, and we were ready to move on. Now the cavalry marched without the dragoons. They turned to the east, toward the Kallian forces, and, using the spell given them, started for the enemy flanks.

About an hour later, the bedlam of destruction smashed into my ears from the east, and I knew the main battle had begun.

An hour after that, the forest ended, and we were in open brushland once more. A few miles away, the plateau ended, and roads led down toward the Kallian capital. We formed our battle line and sat our horses, waiting.

Yonge's skirmishers had harried the Kallian lines all night, never giving them any rest. Now all would depend on whether the dragoons had been able to reach their position in time.

At first light, a regiment of infantry and another of heavy cavalry had made a frontal assault on the lines. It was suicidal, and the two units were decimated. As the Kallians moved out of their positions, to mop up, the dragoons attacked through the forest from the western flank, smashing out of nowhere.

Mikael Yanthlus and Chardin Sher's other sorcerers had sensed nothing, and so the astonished Kallians were sent reeling, rolling up their own lines as our Numantians drove against them. They tried to hold, but it was no use, and they fell back through the forest. But it wasn't the orderly withdrawal as planned, but a staggering retreat.

The dragoons returned for their horses, then followed the Kallians, so there was a bit more than a half-mile gap between the two armies. This was exactly what Tenedos wanted, he told me later, for he wasn't sure how discriminatory his grand spell would be.

I still shudder to think what it would have been like to be a Kallian, shaken by the dragoon assault from nowhere, trying to save himself, trying not to give in to his fear, when the forest itself attacked him.

Branches reached down, striking like clubs or whips, smashing men to the ground. Roots rose from the soil and tripped men, and then curled around them, strangling them, crushing their bones.

Some Kallians went mad—and perhaps they were the lucky ones—seeing their native earth rise against them. Trees tumbled, with never a warning crack, and fell on command groups. Brush pulled at men, holding them back, keeping them from fleeing, keeping them immobile, as their eyes shot up, hearing the snap of a widowmaker and seeing it tumble down.

Crows rose screaming as their familiar perches shook, and the creatures of the forest darted out of their winter burrows in panic as the forest moved about them, far more than the worst disturbance a storm could bring.

* This was the first of the two Great Spells Tenedos launched in the Kallian War. It was impossible. No one could cast it, had ever heard of it being cast before, I learned. But it had been created, created by one man. Men whispered he'd sold himself to demons, but then shook their heads. No. Even that price wouldn't give that much power. No one knew how he could do it, but he had, and so the fear and respect his name carried grew.

I knew not of what was going on, but I did feel a queasi-ness, a disturbance, but laid it to fatigue or perhaps a chill I'd gotten in the forest. My attention was locked on the snow-touched treeline, and then men came out of the woods, shouting, thousands of them, only a few in any sort of formation. They kept turning to look back into the forest, expecting demons to pursue them, but instead, from their right flank, came the blast of bugles, and , cavalry men charged.

I've said the Kallians were brave men, and so they were. Commanders bellowed orders, and some men and units had the guts to form squares to repel our charge. We ignored them and smashed into the mass of the Kallian Army.

Our charge lost momentum, and now we were a sword-swinging body of horsemen, trying to beat our way through the rabble. A man lunged with a pike, and I brushed it aside with the flat of my blade and sliced his arm away.

Another man aimed his bow, but Karjan was behind him, and he, too, went down. Then something came at me, and I ducked aside, barely recognizing it as a regimental standard on a spear. Lucan reared in fear, sending me falling back across his haunches to the ground.

I managed to tuck and fell across a body, rolling to my feet, sword still in hand. Three Kallians shouted glee, seeing a dismounted officer, and pushed toward me. I moved to the side, so they were in each others' way, parried the first man's thrust, cut his face open, and he lurched back, and I lunged under his arm, spitting the second.

The third had his blade back for a slash, but I kicked him in the stomach, then drove my knee into his face as he bent double.

Karjan was beside me, hewing down at the Kallians, bis

horse as battle mad as he, lashing out with its hooves. I pulled myself up behind him, and we shoved our way out of the throng, seeing a welcome phalanx of Numantian horsemen ride toward us. Then I was safe, and we were on clear ground, and I shouted to turn, and attack once more.

The dragoons came out of the forest and attacked as we came back on the Kallians from the rear, between them and the safety of their capital. They hit the few resolute units on the field, standing off from their squares and using archers to break them and send their soldiers fleeing like the others, and the killing went on.

Then there was nothing but white flags and shouts for mercy, quarter, surrender, Less than , Kallian escaped from the field that day. But among them were Chardin Sher and his master wizard, so the war was not over.

But we'd met the enemy on the field of their own choosing, fought them with our new tactics, and defeated them handily. We'd taken heavy casualties, but only among the heavy cavalry, Linerges's infantry, and the skirmishers. The blood-price was acceptable.

Now the way was open to Polycittara. We reformed on the far side of that dread forest and made ready to fight on.

The next morning, a letter finally reached me:

My dearest husband I cannot say how ashamed I am of myself for not writing you. '

cmhdt'd^rWiyvxsu^^exi'sp.'hatJb&.death. of our child struck harder than I thought, and it was as if I was dead myself, wandering about feeling like my heart had become stone, unable to talk, let alone write.

I am weeping now, hoping you might forgive me, for I had no right to feel such selfishness while you, the one who means more to me than life itself, are just as alone, and in desperate danger.

* I will always be indebted to our dearest friend Amiel, who dragged me out of my morass of despair, and told me what a fool I was being. She has given me the greatest comfort since our son died, and I hope you will love her as I do for it.

Now I realize, we must move on. We have a life together, and there are other days, and other times. I still want a child, want several children, but now I want you, just you. I want to feel your cock hard inside me, feel you scatter your seed in me. I want the taste of you, warm and salty in my mouth.

Please try to understand me, Damastes, as I am trying to understand myself. I know I'm very young, and very foolish, but I am still learning how to love. Please still love me. I am yours for always, as you know.

Mardn I'd no more than sealed my response to this, feeling the leaden weight I'd carried for too long fall away, and hoping the war was almost over, when my tent flap was torn open and Yonge stumbled in.

"Drink with me, Numantian," he ordered, and plunked a nearly empty bottle of brandy down on my table.

I uncorked the bottle, and touched it to my lips, seeing that, as drunk as he was, he'd barely notice what I did. I was right He grabbed the bottle, drained it, and pulled another from a pocket inside his cloak.

"So, what do you think of our famous victory?" he slurred, his voice hard, angry.

"I'm sorry to hear of your losses," I said. "Sorry? Yes, Numantian, I guess you are." "Yonge," I said, "why are you angry with me? I had nothing to do with what happened."

Yonge glowered at me, then slowly nodded. "No," he agreed. "No, you didn't. Guess I'm angry at everybody, and nobody. Nobody but one.

"You know how many men got killed, whittled away, a

man here, a man there, a squad here, a company there? Damn near half my skirmishers.

"They aren't like other soldiers, you know. Takes time to train a man to not want to go blazing out with a sword, but take the measure as he's taught, and tell it to others, and let them fight.

"Prob'ly takes longer than to build a cavalryman."

He drank.

"Wonder why that bastard did it to me."

'Tenedos?"

"He's the only bastard I can think of. Told me what to do, and I did it. Did it without arguin', knowing what'd happen.

"Damn the bastard."

"What would you have done?" I said, trying to be diplomatic. Yonge, in a mood like this, was looking for a fight, and I knew the Men of the Hills seldom used fists to settle their differences. Even drunk, I had no confidence I could defeat his knife. "He said he was using you as a feint, to cover the dragoons."

"You believe that?"

"I do."

Yonge stared at me very hard.

"You remember, a long time ago, I said I wanted to study honor from you?"

"I do. But I think you're now a better one for me to study," I said.

"Shit on that. I still think you tell the truth. You don't think there was any better way to start the battle? You don't think my men were thrown away?"

"Why would Tenedos want that?" I said. "He knows how valuable the skirmishers are. Hells, man, he created the force."

"He did," Yonge grudged. "I don't know why we was sacrificed. But I feel we were."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Yonge heaved a deep sigh. "Hells. Maybe I'm just drunk, and mournin'. Maybe that's all."

He lifted the bottle, and, to my amazement, finished it.

"Guess I'm not thinkin' straight," he said, and stood. "Sorry to bother you. You're a man of honor, like I said. An' I trust you."

His eyes slid closed, and he toppled. I caught him before he hit the ground, and eased him down. I called for Karjan, and we made a rough bed for the general with my cloak and a pillow. He muttered something about honor and blood, then began snoring. I little wanted to be inside his head in the morrow.

I tried to go to sleep, but the absurd thought stayed with me: Why had Tenedos chosen such a sacrificial way to begin the engagement? It was another answer I wouldn't have for years.

Now Tenedos's magic held Chardin Sher firm in its vision, and because of that many lives were saved, both Kallian and Numantian. If he had not been able to track him through sorcery, we might have decided Chardin Sher would retreat to the capital, gone after him, and mired ourselves in street butchery. Probably the Kallian assumed we would do just that, and give him some time to regroup, for he fled past Polycittara, and took refuge beyond.

The Numantian Army ignored the bait of Polycittara and marched after him. Two weeks after Dabormida we came on his final refuge.

It was a huge brown stone fortress, walls many yards thick, that occupied the entire top of a solitary peak that commanded the center of a fertile valley. It was the ultimate refuge, and I think all of us thought the same thing: We would all die here, under these grim battlements, before we would destroy Chardin Sher.

TWENTY-EIGHT The Demon from Below I he nameless

fortress had an evil reputation. It had I been built centuries before by a meditative order, its JL battlements intended to give shelter to the priests and simples of the surrounding country men when raiders threatened. But as the centuries passed the order became fascinated with the dark arts, and it was said they were more feared than any brigands. All manner of evil was attributed to these priests, including human sacrifice to demons.

One storm-tossed night, the story went, nearby peasants heard screams from the fortress, screams far louder than any human throat should be able to produce. A few of the bravest chanced peering into the night, and saw all of the citadel's lights flash bright and then go out as if they were a single candle snuffed by a giant hand.

The next day, no one came out of the citadel, and that night it remained dark. So it went for a week until one courageous young man chanced climbing the ramps to the entrance, and found its iron gates blasted open, as if a giant hand had ripped them away.

He entered, and found no sign of any of the priests. Nor was there any indication of what had happened, neither bloodstain nor corpse to be found.

* The stronghold sat vacant for almost a century, then an outlaw baron took and held it, and once more the valley paid a bitter price for "protection." Three generations of this family held the fortress, each lord more baneful than the last.

Finally, Chardin Sher's father mounted an expedition against the current baron and, by deceit, gained entrance. The baron was taken, tried for his crimes, and quartered below the citadel. His women and children were reduced to commoners and sold as slaves. Perhaps the fortress should have been left empty, or even razed to the bare rocks. But it was not. Chardin Sher's father and then his son made it their last refuge, adding to its defenses.

Now it was surrounded by the Numantian Army. There were three choices: to reduce it by sorcery; to attempt to storm it; or starve out Chardin Sher, his magicians, and his retainers. Tenedos tried magic first, and his assembled magi used the natural force of the season to send storm after storm against the towers. The magicians within, led by Mikael Yanthlus, not only used defensive spells to lessen the effect, but sent their own conjurations against the soldiers below.

The normal spells of apprehension, fear, and such were accompanied with incantations intended to bring sicknesses and plagues on us, fortunately countered by Tenedos's magicians before more than a handful of victims were stricken.

The storm spells were cast again and again, and then it seemed they took on a life of their own. It was awesome to watch the dark bulk of the citadel against the night as winds screamed against it and lightning slashed from the skies, thunder rocking the valley.

It was awesome—and harder on us in some ways than on those inside, for at least they had shelter. We had nothing but canvas, and the winds laughed at our tents and ripped them to shreds. The fields were sodden muck, and the farmers fled the wrath of the Numantians.

One night was marked by bolt after bolt, and it seemed certain the fortress would be, must be, broken and shattered to the smallest stone as it stood against the night, its bulk sheathed with white light. But when the dawn mist blew away it still stood, seemingly untouched. Then someone noticed a narrow crack down one side. We tried to feel hopeful, but if that was the best Tenedos's wizardry could produce it would be a very long siege.

Two days later, Tenedos summoned me. He was not living under canvas, but had taken over a guildhall in the nearest town. I found him there, and was about to jest about how comfortable our leaders chose to live, but clamped my mouth shut, seeing how drawn and gray his features were. He looked far worse than any horseman or private, and I realized this war of spells was as exhausting on him as hand-to-hand fighting would be for me.

I asked his health, and he said he was well, and then inquired as to mine, as to how Maran was doing, was she managing all right, and so forth. He took me into his own chamber, and told me to sit down while he made tea.

He brewed a fragrant, warm concoction, and let it steep. I drew in the smell, and felt the long chill in my bones from living rough for so long dissipate a little. He poured me a cup, and offered a tin of sweets that must have just been sent him by Rasenna.

I took one, just as a small alarm bell tinkled in my mind. I attempted to turn it into a joke, saying that, no doubt, with all this buildup I was about to be asked to do something completely insane, such as storm the fortress single-handed.

"Just so, Damastes," Tenedos said, and there was not an ounce of humor on his face or in his voice.

"Sir?"

"May I sit down?" This was unusual, my commander hardly needing my permission for anything. I nodded.

He poured himself some of the tea, then let it sit and grow cold, ignored, while he considered his words.

"Damastes, we must destroy Chardin Sher. There can be no truce, no surrender except unconditional, or he'll try to usurp our rulers again."

"Of course."

* "I do not know if the army can stand up to a long siege, quite frankly. We have no training, nor, with our new policies, the supply train that would allow us to keep Chardin Sher's fortress invested. Nor do we have the engines for such a battle, and it would be several months to build or have them built and transported to the faraway area.

"I know it is my army, and they obey me absolutely, but I fear if we just sit here the Rule of Ten will find a backbone somewhere, and begin meddling once more."

"We can hardly take that bastion by storm," I pointed out.

"No," Tenedos agreed. "Nor, although you did not hear it from me, will magic work. I have more power than Mikael Yanthlus, and with my magicians far greater strengths than he and his staff can ever produce. The problem is all he need do is defend, which takes less energy than to attack. The best my mightiest incantations could produce, and this was calling in debts owed creatures of other worlds, was that storm that managed to chip the citadel's paint.

"Pfah! I like this but little."

"So somehow I am going to be the solution to everyone's problems," I said.

"I was serious, Damastes. Let me explain. There is something dark, something evil, about that fortress, as you know if you've heard anything of its history. I don't know what it is exactly, but I have managed to contact this thing, this power, and woo it to do my bidding. You may not ask what its price is, but it is terrible, but not to be paid for some time to come, fortunately.

"But this thing, force, demon, whatever it is, desired something else before it agreed to the bargain.

"If it is to act as I wish against Chardin Sher, I must be willing to prove my sincerity, or maybe commitment is a better word." Tenedos sat silently for a moment, then went on. "A certain service must be performed by someone I love, a service that could mean that person's Me, or the force will not grant my wish."

"So I'm to be a hostage?"

"More. You must enter the fortress and, on the floor of its innermost courtyard, draw a symbol and pour a potion out. Then the bargain is sealed." "I assume I die in the process?"

"Not necessarily," Tenedos said, but he looked very unsure. "If you manage to make entrance, do what you're required, you could well have time enough to escape if you're not discovered."

"And what are the chances of that," I said, feeling my guts cold within me. "As a matter of fact, how do I know that this demon or whatever it is will keep its bargain?"

"I'll be truthful. There is a chance of betrayal, but a very slight one. As for you being able to escape, I'll give you all the sorcerous guards I can provide."

"How am I to enter the citadel? Can you change me into a bird? Or, considering the nature of that place, a bat might be more appropriate."

"Of course not." He took me by the arm, and led me to a window and opened its shutter. The winter wind howled around us, but neither of us paid mind, as we stared up at the brooding mass not many miles distant. As Tenedos pointed, I'd already guessed his idea. It was not utterly impossible, just highly so.

Tenedos closed the shutters.

"I shall not press you for an answer, Damastes, my friend, and you now know how highly I prize that title, for you are the only one who is acceptable to my partner-to-be. You don't even have to tell me no. If I don't hear from you within a day or so, well, then, we'll find another way to winkle Chardin Sher out."

I only half-heard him. I opened the shutters, and looked up once more at the fortress. I was reminded what I'd been taught from when I was a child, that a leader's duty is to lead from the front, and then I remembered a proverb I'd heard somewhere, that duty is hard as iron, but death is light as a feather.

Easy words, hard meaning. My mind turned to Marin, and I thought wistfully of her. I desperately wanted to say no to this

absurd idea, but could not. Nor could I agree to it. I wondered if our child had been bom whole if I'd cling to life so desperately, something a soldier must not do.

I banged the shutters to, and turned to the seer.

"You needn't wait for a reply. I'll go."

A slow smile moved across his face.

"Do you know, Damastes, I never doubted that you would say yes? That's why it took me two full days to find the courage to ask you."

The way in was, of course, up that lightning-cut crack in the walls. Once atop the walls, all that would be necessary was to evade the sentries on the battlements, make my way down the wall, across unknown obstacles, perform Tenedos's task, and then somehow be able to escape with my head more or less attached to where it was most comfortable.

On the way I also planned to end war, disease, and famine with my free hand.

I decided I'd need three other fools to accompany me.

The first was Lance Karjan. I told him what the chances were, and he shrugged. "Sir, how many times since we met have we been dead an' gone already? I'm gettin' used t' the idea by now. 'Sides, if we get away wi' it, which we ain't gonna, it'll be a tale that'll buy me drink for the rest of my life."

"If you're going," I said, "you'll have to go as a lance-major. Bigger death benefits."

Karjan growled, then grinned.

"You'll take any 'vantage, won't you, sir?"

"I will."

He saluted.

One.

I couldn't simply tell my dominas I needed two more men, because I knew I'd be swamped with volunteers.

While I considered how to do it, Karjan returned. Behind him was the bulk of Svalbard, that great silent brawler who I now was pleased to see wore the slashes of a lance-major.

"He's goin', too," Karjan told me.

"Lance Karjan told you what I'm going to attempt?"

"He did. Sir."

"You're aware there are no chances of surviving?"

"Don't believe that. Sir."

We stared at each other in silence. I was the first to break, knowing how useless it would be to say more.

"Very well. Leave your troop and move up here to my headquarters."

"Thank you. Sir." And the man was gone.

Two.

The third was Domina Bikaner, who insisted he by the gods had the right to go, being who he was and how long we'd soldiered together. I told him absolutely no. The Lancers needed him. He began to argue, and I had to order him to shut up and get out. I was considering who I should ask to finish the suicide team when General Yonge entered my tent without bothering to knock.

"I understand, my friend, that you are planning something completely foolish."

"That's about the best way to put it. How did you hear about it?"

"Never ask that of a man who was his village's best chicken thief before he could walk more than five paces without falling. I want to know why you did not call on me?"

"Because you are a gods-damned general."

Yonge spat on my tent floor, and lifted off his sash. His knife was suddenly in his hand, and the sash was cut in two pieces. He cast it down and ground his heel across it "Now I am just Yonge of the Hills."

I swore at him, and he swore back at me. I told him he was being insolent, and he told me I had best watch my tongue, for a Kaiti would not allow anyone, not even a general, to talk like that. Especially if he was Numantian.

"You know I could call for the provosts, or tell Tenedos, and you'd be held in irons until I returned?"

"Do you think I would still be here by the time they * arrived? Listen, you ox of a Cimabuan. I came to study honor, did I not?"

"Honor is not foolishness, dammit!"

"What idiot said that?"

My grin took me by surprise.

"As for that wizard, pah!" Yonge went on. "Do you think I obey him because I'm afraid? I do what I want when I want. For a while it amused me to lead soldiers, to try to teach poor lumbering farm boys how to move as if they were men of the crags. Now it amuses me to do something else.

"Now I plan to climb that fortress to see what is inside. Would you care to accompany me, Cimabuan?"

"How do you know I'm planning to climb it?"

"Because not even you are foolish enough to try tunneling."

Tenedos would be livid, but:

Three.

Two generals and two lance-majors stood in sheeting rain at the foot of the nearly vertical wall of Chardin Sher's last stronghold. Ten feet above us, the crack lightning had smashed into the fortress began.

The storm had raged, on and off, since noon of that day, alternating with periods of calm. It was partially regulated by thirty of Tenedos's magicians, working from a post just behind our front lines. In my pack I carried a small, dark lantern, which I could use to signal the sages. One flash meant lift the storm, two meant bring it down.

Three flashes would be sent when—or if—we reached the top of the wall. "I doubt if this will work exactly," Tenedos had said. "But it's worth the effort." Also in the pack were gloves, sock-like covers to muffle my nailed boots if we succeeded in climbing to the ramparts, a flask of tea, three sealed oilskin pouches of spiced chicken, plus some jerked beef and hard candies to suck. The most important item was a quart flask full of the potion that would set off the spell.

Beside it was a fat stick of reddish chalk-looking material. I'd spent four hours drawing and redrawing the figure I was to create inside the courtyard, with )

Tenedos hovering over me and correcting my mistakes, although both the figure and the symbols that were to accompany it made no sense to me. I asked Tenedos if the rain wouldn't wash the chalk off the stones, and he told me it had a spell cast to prevent that from happening.

I also had a belt pouch with a small hammer and soft iron spikes to hammer into cracks in the wall for climbing aids. Over my shoulder was a fat coil of rope.

I wore dark clothing, fingerless gloves, and a stocking cap. The other three were dressed the same, and had similar gear in their packs.

Each of us carried but three weapons: a dagger and two four-inch pigs of lead. I carried the dagger Yonge had given me for a wedding present, after I'd gotten Tenedos to put a darkening spell on its silver.

We looked up and up, and our way seemed endless. But it was growing no shorter by the looking, and so Svalbard bent, Yonge stepped into his cupped hands, and the big man cast Yonge upward. He caught the edge of the crack, and shinnied up a few feet. Yonge pushed an iron peg in, then dropped a rope for the rest of us to use to start the climb.

Then it began. Yonge in the lead, I behind him, then Karjan and Svalbard, all roped together. We used our hands and the sides of our feet, forced into the crack to move up a step, then another, then another. It was monotonous, wet, and muscle tearing. I thought of signaling for the magicians to try to lighten the storm, but I'd rather be wet than heard.

We went on and on, ever more slowly. Once Yonge slipped, his hands scrabbling on the slippery stone, and his boots crashed down on my shoulders, almost knocking me loose. Then he had a grip, and we were climbing once more.

The way became easier as we went higher, and the crack widened. I'd hoped that we'd be able to move completely inside it, but we weren't lucky, because the wall had been built in layers, and the lightning had only broken the outermost. It was still almost three feet deep, and so we were somewhat sheltered from the weather.

I was reaching for a hold when a bird squawked, and bolted from its nest into my face. I jerked back, and came off, falling the few feet to the end of my rope. Fortunately Yonge had heard the bird's alarm, and had time to brace himself. I swung back and forth like a pendulum, feeling the rope throttle the life from me, then Karjan pulled me in to safety. I took a moment to let my heart reenter my breast, and we climbed on.

I'd hoped the night would be endless, but it wasn't, and we were still climbing when I realized I could see Yonge's boots above me. I cursed, having feared this would happen, and that day would break and we would still be on the wall.

There was nothing to do but move as far inside the crack as we could and wait. I was afraid to keep going, for fear of being heard or, more likely, seen by anyone looking over the parapet.

The magicians saw our plight, and attempted to make it easier by calling up spells and stopping the storm. I clawed out the lantern, blew its wick to life and over and over again, blinked twice... twice ... twice. Better to be wet and miserable than dry and dead. I guess they saw my feeble signal, for the rain started again.

That ended another worry—when it had been clear I saw white dots far across the fields staring up, and knew we'd been seen by our fellow soldiers. I cursed, but there was nothing that could have been done. Warn the soldiers not to look at the wall and assume no Kallian would hear the warning, sorcerously or otherwise? Make the officers order their officers not to look at the fortress? I just hoped not many of the fools would point and draw Mikael Yanthlus's attention.

We drank our tea, chewed our rations, shivered, and stretched our muscles whenever we could. Karjan muttered something about why did following me always mean going straight up. I refrained from reminding him about his volunteering. Yonge grinned and whispered that this crevice was like a vacation home to him; sometime Karjan would have to take leave to Yonge's mountains and see what real climbing was like. That was the best—and only—jest of that rain-soaked day.

Eventually the light died, and we crept out, onto the face of the wall, our bodies creaking at being forced once more into exertion, and climbed on. The crack widened, and we climbed with our backs against one wall and used our feet to "walk" us up on the other. It was excruciatingly painful, tearing at the muscles of my thighs, but I was afraid the crack would open up farther, and then we'd have to use our pegs and ropes.

But it did not. I was moving numbly, one foot, then the other, then push the back up and I banged my head against Yonge's boots. I was about to mutter an oath and wonder why he'd stopped climbing, then I realized: We'd reached the top of the wall.

I unroped, slipped inside of him, and scrabbled up. I listened, but heard no sound of a sentry. I reached into my pack, took out the dark lantern, and sent three flashes into the night.

I reached up, felt the welcome smoothness of worked stone, and lifted myself out of the crack and through a crenel and was on my hands and knees on a rampart of Chardin Sher's fortress. I looked for sentries, and thought I saw movement, but it was distant on a far wall. Chardin Sher wasn't a fool and leaving his fortress unguarded—there was little point in having the ramparts lined with soldiery, for any attack would be heard long before it reached this point, and with the storm blowing hard all that would be accomplished was to wear out good men. It took some care to spot the few guards since the ramparts were lined with obscene statues of demons, leering defiance at the world beyond.

I hissed, and my three men came up. I guessed the hour close to midnight. There were no maps of the inside of the fortress, and Tenedos had been afraid of alerting Chardin Sher's magicians if he tried to peep inside.

I saw our goal, though, and the path seemed fairly straightforward. Impossible, but straightforward, and I knew there was no impossibility for the four loons who'd managed to reach as far as we had. I whispered a question, and found that all three of my men could swim, so my scheme had possibilities.

The stronghold had been built with a concentric series of walls, so if one line of defense fell, the garrison could fall back to another, and then another.

It looked to me as if we could reach our objective with only one more wall to climb, and so we crept along the top of the rampart to the point I'd indicated. We knotted a rope at three-foot intervals, tied it off to one of the statues, and went down the rope, walking backward, with the rope coming down over one shoulder, then up between our legs and across one thigh.

The small problem we faced at the bottom was that this section of the fortress was the defenders' reservoir.

We lowered ourselves into the water, far over our heads, and began swimming. It was harder than I'd imagined to swim with the weight of the pack and our clothes, but at least the other three had the buoyancy of their rope coils. We left mine dangling in the shadows. It would not only provide a fast retreat, but if it was discovered we'd hear the hue and cry and hopefully have time to devise another exit. The pouring rain mottled the water's surface, so we were impossible to see from the walls around us.

The far side of the reservoir was slimy, sloping stone, halfway toward vertical, intended as a runoff so rain could refill the pool. We used our iron pegs, one in each hand, digging them between the stones, and moved steadily upward, four crabs hunting dinner along the shoreline. It should have been fairly easy, but we were tired from the day and two nights on the wall, and our muscles sorely stretched.

But we reached the top, and once more peered through crenellations to look for guards. The storm had lightened, unfortunately, and I could see dimly. This inner keep was better guarded than before, with one sentry on each of the ramparts visible. Very well. I'd hoped to be able to make this sortie without leaving a body to be discovered, but that would be impossible. We flattened close to the rampart, and waited.

The sentry paced toward us, huddled in his cloak, paying little attention to anything except his own misery.

Blackness reared out of blackness, and he had not even a moment to cry out as an arm swept around his chest, Svalbard's other great paw cupped his chin, and snapped his head sideways. His neck broke with an audible crack, and Svalbard let the body slip to the rampart, then stared down, his expression calm, as if nothing had happened.

I pulled the sentry's helmet off and gave it to Karjan. Even in this darkness I could see his scowl, but he was the most logical choice. We pulled the body's cloak off, gave it to Karjan, then slid the corpse over the parapet into the reservoir.

Karjan, with the Kallian's spear and cloak, the too-small helmet forced over the top of his head, would pose as the sentry—so no one would see bare walls and give the alarm—as well as being our rear guard.

We pulled the muffling covers over our boots, saw steps not far away, and went down them, zigging back and forth, until we reached ground level.

Our way led through long stone corridors, and I lost direction twice, and had to retrace my steps. I heard voices several times, and we went by doors with light shining under them, but encountered no one. The Kallians were either asleep or acham-ber in front of a blazing fire at this hour, and I blamed them not, feeling the darkness of the ancient building in my bones.

We went up steps and down a passageway. Ahead was a solid iron door, standing open, that led into the open.

I went through it, and the door slammed behind me with a clash of metal, and a bar dropped into place, sealing Yonge and Svalbard on the other side!

Elias Malebranche came out of the darkness.

"I felt you coming, Numantian," he hissed. "I have a touch of the Talent, and my master's sorcerer was kind enough to give me an amulet to help. I'd hoped to encounter you on the battlefield and slay you there, but you have come to me, instead. So we can settle our private business privately."

His hand touched his waist, and the knife came out.

"Third time lucky, Damastes."

I said nothing. Talk in battle is for buffoons and the overconfident. My own dagger was in my hand, and we circled If, each other. Malebranche was a far better knife-fighter than I, but I hoped his arrogance would help me.

Not only had he spoken, but he had not given the alarm. He wanted the glory of killing me and ending our mission all to himself.

Players on a stage portray a knife fight as a series of lunges and thrusts for the vital areas. It's most dramatic, but also completely unrealistic. A real knife fight either ends on the first thrust, when your opponent is surprised and, hopefully, his weapon is still sheathed; or else is an unbelievably gory affair, with the two battlers slashing away, trying to wound or cripple the other before attempting the killer stroke.

Malebranche's knife flickered, and I wasn't able to pull back in time. Pain burned the back of my forearm, but fortunately the Kallian hadn't been able to sever the tendons of my hands, as he'd intended. He came in once more, and I kicked hard, my boot connecting with his lower leg, and he gasped, bent, and I cut him. I'd aimed for his neck but missed as he backrolled away, back to his feet.

"That is the end for you, Damastes. It is a pity you'll not live to witness the coronation of Chardin Sher as king of Numantia. Perhaps I'll take your widow to my bed, as recompense for the time you scarred me. Think of that, Damastes, as you go down into death."

He slid around, toward my weak side. As he did, his guard was open for a moment, and I thrust. But it was a deception, and his free hand snapped out, and sent my dagger spinning away, and his blade darted.

I tried to pull back, but stumbled on the slippery cobbles, and he cut deep into my inner thigh. I almost shouted in pain, but clenched my teeth, went down, rolling, reaching for my knife.

But it lay nearly five feet away from my scrabbling hand, and I heard Malebranche's boots come forward, and the next thing I'd feel would be his knife between my shoulder blades.

I rolled, hand still outstretched, and then, impossibly, my dagger whirled through the air and was in my hand, and I had a flash recollection of the spell Tenedos had put on it after the demon-snake attacked us.

Malebranche was striking at me, but I parried, blade clanging blade, then smashed both feet up and sent him floundering. I had my feet under me, and limped toward him.

He struck, and my blade seemed to hum in my grip, reaching out of its own volition, brushing his thrust aside, gashing open his chest. Now I saw fear on his face, and he moved back, and I closed, moving cautiously. Back and back we went, and a stone wall was not far behind him. He glanced once over his shoulder, knew he was trapped, and broke.

He hurled his blade at me, and it spun in the air, hitting me in the chest with the pommel, hurting, but not harming, and he turned and ran, darting around my guard, heading for another passageway. He'd shout alarm in seconds, and my hand was in my pouch, on one of the lead pigs, and I hurled it with all my strength.

It crashed into the back of his head, and I heard his skull crunch. He crumpled, and lay motionless. I hobbled to him, and kicked him over. His face stared up, horrible fear his last expression. I checked for a pulse, and found none.

The third time had, indeed, been the fortune.

I ran as fast as I was able back to the iron door and lifted the bar. The door came open and Svalbard stumbled into me. I saw no sign of Yonge.

"He went to find another way," the big man whispered. He saw Malebranche's body. "Are there any more?"

I shook my head, just as the hillman ran into sight. He saw the open door and the two of us, and there was no explanation needed at the moment. We ripped strips of cloth from my tunic for crude bandages for my wounded thigh and arm. I felt no pain nor stiffness, my body reveling in the death of my foe and the savage joy of battle. We dragged Malebranche's corpse into the shadows and went through that other corridor and found our goal.

The innermost keep of the castle was built most peculiarly, as a pentagon, and I remembered the tales of the priests and their dark magic and wondered if they'd held their ceremonies here. It was quite empty, which I well understood, feeling the ifi chill and something else around me. I wondered for a moment how Chardin Sher and his men could stand the aura I felt, but put it aside. Perhaps they didn't sense it at all, but I did because I was an enemy of Kallio. But I had no time for speculation.

I took the flask with the potion and the drawing stick from my pack, and hurried to the center of the keep. I took a deep breath, calming my sen , then carefully drew the figure as I'd been taught.

I finished within a few moments.

I opened up the flask, and upended it over the center of the symbol I'd made. I gagged; the potion smelled worse than anyone could imagine, the stink of burning corpses, the reek of fresh-spilled blood, the moldy odor of long-forgotten tombs filling my nostrils.

Then the flask was empty.

Tenedos had told me I must flee as quickly as I could once the spell had set. He said he would feel it begin to work, and begin his own casting from outside the walls, but we must be away from the fortress before the incantation took effect, or face the same doom he hoped to bring on Chardin Sher.

We hurried back through the corridors, making more sound than we had before. A door opened, a woman peered out, saw the three of us, and slammed and barred the door as we neared, yet I heard no outcry.

We retraced our steps, and I marveled I was able to remember them so precisely, and found the stairs leading up to the inner wall. Atop it, Karjan, the false sentry, still paced his rounds.

Gladly he doffed his helmet and cloak, cast the spear aside, and we tied a rope to one of the crenels and went down that sloping wall into the reservoir.

The icy water hit and burned at my wound, and I knew I'd have the grace of not feeling pain for only a short time longer.

The rope we'd left hung down into the water, and we pulled our way upward. I was very glad we'd taken the time to knot it at intervals before descending.

We untied it, ran to where the wall cracked, doubled a rope

around one of the crenels, and slid down it to the end, pulled one end of the rope until it fell down to us, then crawled into the crack.

We were about to climb down in a normal manner, but I heard a roar. At first I though the storm was building, but then realized the sound came from everywhere, from inside the wall as well as beyond. We had to take a great chance, and hammered three iron nails into the stone, looped a rope around them, and tugged. They held firm, and we used the rope to backwalk down as we had before, although the chance of a peg pulling free and dropping us to our deaths was very great. My leg throbbed agony, but I ignored it.

The nails held, and again and again we did the same, while the clamor grew and grew, and we could feel the wall vibrating. Once a peg pulled free, and Karjan almost fell, but he caught himself and continued down.

I looked down, and saw to my amazement that the ground was no more than thirty feet below us. One more rope-length, and I reached for more nails. The wall around me was shaking harder and harder, and we'd ran out of time.

"Jump!" I shouted, and we sprang out into the blackness. We fell and fell, and I braced for the crack of breaking bones when we landed.

But I landed in muck, sliding and tumbling away from the wall, covering myself from head to foot. I found my footing and ran as hard as I could, limping, the other three in front of me. Karjan came back, threw his arm around my shoulders, and we ran on.

I was afraid to stop, afraid to turn and look back. Trees rose in front of us, and I saw our front lines, and a sentry, fear making his voice quaver, challenged us.

Yonge shouted the response, but I don't think it would have mattered, for the man was gaping at the fortress.

Now I allowed myself to stop, my lungs searing, and see what we'd fled from.

The ground was shaking, as if in an earthquake, and the thundering was deafening. I saw flames flickering from the f> stronghold above us, as if the stone itself was burning, yet was never consumed.

The ground rambled again, and I lost my footing and fell, and then a bellow reverberated through the night.

A monstrous figure rose through the flames, stretching, growing, and I saw its V-mouth gaping, fangs glistening. I saw arms, four of them, each ending in claws, and I swear I could see, even at this distance, that all of them held men, their screams unhearable against the din.

The demon, the force, bayed triumph at the skies, finally holding complete thrall over its kingdom, and lightning flashed down from the heavens and bathed it.

I heard a whimper, and saw Karjan on his knees, head bowed, praying, and knew there was no shame in it I also knew the gods could not be listening on this night.

The monster turned, gazing about, its arms thrashing against the stone walls, smashing them and sending them tumbling, and again the demon screamed its joy, and the storm echoed its howls.

The beast grew and grew, and I feared Tenedos had unleashed true chaos, and wondered if this could be a male manifestation of Saionji.

At that moment a bolt of pure energy, a searing blue, as blue as the finest summer day, came down. It was not lightning, but appeared like it.

It struck the monster full on the breast, and it screeched, another bolt came down, the ground shook once more and the demon was gone, and we were staring at nothing but the night, the storm raging against the torn stones where a fortress had once reared proudly, but now there was naught but ruin.

In this manner died Chardin Sher, Mikael Yanthlus, their sorcerers, retainers, and advisers, although no bodies were ever found in the wreckage of the citadel.

The war was over.

TWENTY-NINE Return to Nicias With Chardin Sher's death, the rebellion vanished as if it had never existed. Kallian soldiers deserted their formations, threw away their weapons, and traded their uniforms and any money they had for a scrap of clothing that suggested they'd always been civilians.

Couriers galloped in from the east, carrying the congratulations of the Rule of Ten, and requesting Seer-General Tenedos to return home immediately for his triumph.

He refused, saying the victory belonged to all of us, and we would share in it equally.

We buried our dead, treated our wounded, and made our way back through Kallio.

At each village and town we were met with cheering citizens, as if we'd defeated some foreign army.

Somewhat bemused, we marched on, wondering at the fickleness of man.

We diverted toward Polycittara, and its elders, in panic, declared the capital an open city. They offered tribute. The soldiers would get an appropriate medal, officers would get silver, and generals, Tenedos, and the Rule of Ten gold.

Tenedos announced that the Rule of Ten had decided they needed no more gold, and he would not allow any of his men f, to accept a tin medal from a former enemy. I grinned when I heard this, knowing Tenedos certainly hadn't bothered to consult the Rule of Ten about the matter.

The Polycittarian leaders whimpered, and Tenedos said because of their intransigence the amount of the tribute was doubled, and if any further delay was made he would either double it again or allow the army three days of license in the city.

Within the hour wagonloads of gold, silver, jewels creaked out of the city's gates toward us, and when the soldiery found out it was to go to them, rather than far-distant bureaucrats whose only muscles were in their penhands and asses, they cheered Tenedos as if he'd personally promised each of them a step up on the Wheel in their next hves.

Of course, being soldiers they quickly wanted more, and there were suggestions that we should take the gold and loot the city anyway, but Tenedos forbade it. There were rumblings of discontent, and one half-company deserted, determined to celebrate in their own way.

Tenedos sent the Lancers out after them before they could do any worse than destroy a tavern, burn a hamlet, and ravage two women, and marched them back to the army's camp at lance point.

He called for representatives from each unit to assemble, had hasty gallows built, marched the entire half-company, plus its commanding officer, into the great square formed by the soldiers, and hanged every single one of them. That ended any further thoughts of freelance mayhem.

He summoned the city elders, told them what he'd done, said he could have required greater reparations, but he knew the Kallians would need their gold to rebuild. "Now is the time," he said, "for all of us to remember we are Numantians. Our dispute is over, and we are one nation once more."

We marched on, back the way we came. I felt satisfaction when we crossed the Imru River. We had avenged our defeat and our dead well.

Orders were waiting at Cicognara. Tenedos must leave the

army and return to Nicias for his honors, or face the displeasure of his rightful rulers, the Rule of Ten.

Tenedos ignored their order, and sent out commands of his own by heliograph and messenger. All ships worthy of travel on the Latane River where to go immediately to Cicognara. He reiterated what he'd said: All the army would be honored in Nicias, or none.

There was no response whatsoever to his disobedience from the Rule of Ten. They huddled in Nicias, afraid of what might come next.

The ships arrived, wave after wave of them, everything from the speedy Tauter and her sisters to cargo lighters and yachts, their arrival marking the coming of spring, the Tune of Births.

We streamed aboard ship, and set out It may sound like we held to the harsh discipline of the war, but this was far from the case. As long as a soldier could stumble to a required formation and be able to stand erect for his duties the exact extent of his sobriety was ignored. At nightfall there was no roll call, nor did provosts comb the transports to make sure there was but one set of legs coming from under a blanket, since many of the ships had arrived with women or boys who were eager, either for free or for silver, to thank the army for holding the nation together.

Meals were cooked by quartermasters, but if a man chose to eat elsewhere at the invitation of a grateful civilian, it mattered little.

I was blind to all the revelry. All I wanted was to return home and Maran. At least her letters had resumed their regularity. She wrote at least once, frequently twice a day, and each time mail met us on our journey north I was inundated with scented documents of love.

I shook myself out of my fixation, though, and wondered what would happen when we reached Nicias.

What would Tenedos do next?

His first move was ominous—for the Rule of Ten. As our motley fleet left the delta, he sent word to each ship that it was not to dock in Nicias, but rather disembark the troops at the tiny fishing village of Urgone, upriver from the capital. We

would set up camp there, and not enter Nicias until "the proper time." It was obvious he intended to keep the army together, and hold it as a threat in being against the Rule of Ten.

Soldiers aren't stupid, and by now almost everyone realized something strange was happening, that there was conflict between the Rule of Ten and Tenedos. Some hotheads were heard to remark that if it came to that, since they hadn't been permitted to loot Polycittara, Nicias would be an acceptable stand-in.

We built a fortified camp, and busied ourselves rebuilding the army with new uniforms, weapons, supplies.

We received replacements, but Tenedos ordered them into temporary regiments, saying they'd be permitted to join regular formations within a short time, but not at the present time. Tenedos didn't want the fervor of his veterans to be watered down. I sensed he must move quickly, however, because the army was at high pitch.

Nicians streamed out to meet us, but most of them were politely told by the sentries they could not enter the camp at the moment.

There were exceptions.

I rode back to my tent one tired afternoon, and found Lance Karjan waiting. He appeared most smug, and I asked him what made him so self-satisfied. He smiled more broadly, and said nothing whatsoever, but I might wish a bath before joining my officers in the mess. Or, if I chose, I could eat alone. In any event, I was to hand over my sword and belt—generals weren't supposed to look shabby.

I frowned; I was hardly the reclusive sort. I gave him my weapons belt, told him I'd bathe and change into mess gear and be ready to eat within the hour, and entered my tent.

Maran stood quickly from the chair she'd been waiting in. She wore only a thin, white robe with blue flowers on it, and a matching gown, slit to her upper thigh. Its neckline was low, curving just above her nipples. She was barefoot.

I saw, hanging from a peg on the crude framework I used for my wardrobe, her riding costume.

"Welcome home, my husband," she murmured, not looking up at me.

I was frozen. I'd dreamed of this time and now it had arrived.

She lifted her eyes.

"I... I am sorry," she said. "For what I did."

Once more that punished animal look was on her face. I found words, and my legs, stepped forward, and took her hands.

"Maran," I said. "You did nothing wrong. Not when I was gone, not now, not ever.

"I love you."

I saw tears well in her eyes.

"Here," she whispered. "Give me your coat."

I unbuttoned it, and let it slide to the ground. She came close, ran her fingers over my bandaged forearm and grimaced. Then she kissed my nipples through my shirt.

"I forgot how sweet you smell when you sweat," she said, and lifted her head to me.

I smelled flowers as we kissed, and blood began to hammer against my temples. I put my arms around her, feeling her warmth through the thin gown. After a time I pulled back slightly.

"Mar&i, grant me a favor. I don't want you to be thinking I'm some sort of magistrate, judging what you do or don't do. I'm your partner, not your lord. I'm going to do things wrong... hells, I know I already have. I'm but human, and expect mercy and forgiveness, so I guess I'd better grant you the same right, hadn't I? Please stop being so hard on yourself."

She stared at me, then buried her head against my shoulder. I felt her tears through my shirt.

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all. I just... I guess I just never thought I had any right to be happy. I was, for a while. Then our baby died, and I felt like I was being punished."

"For being happy?'

She nodded.

"Did anybody ever tell you you're silly sometimes?"

She nodded once more. "I know I am."

"And did anyone ever tell you aren't supposed to be crying when your husband comes home from the wars?"

"I'm sor—" and I cut off her words with another kiss. I slid my hand down her side, til I reached the slit, moved inside it, and stroked the satin of her buttocks. She didn't move her lips from mine, but her hands crept up and unbuttoned my shirt, and I let her loose long enough to slip out of it. I could feel her nipples firm against my chest.

"I said I wanted something in one of my letters," she said, "and I mean to have it."

She unbuttoned the fastenings of my trousers, and slipped them down over my boots. She gasped, seeing my still-bandaged thigh.

"Oh, my love, they hurt you."

"I'm healing. It hardly bothers me now."

"I shall be your nurse," she said. "And take care of your every need." She knelt, and touched my rising cock with a finger. "I've missed you," she murmured, and took its head in her mouth. She worried me gently with her teeth, then ran her tongue across its very tip.

"Now, Damastes, if you are as needful as I am, let me taste you," and she took me in her mouth, moving her lips down along my cock's shaft, her tongue coiling, caressing, and I had my hands around her head, pulling her hair around me, and gasped as my long-held semen gushed.

She kept moving her head and the joyful agony grew, and then subsided. She rose to her feet, her mouth wet with me, and swallowed.

"That was to make sure we would have our full share of pleasure."

I stood, and embraced her once more. As we kissed, I slid the robe down from her shoulders, then pulled at the knots holding her gown up, and it fell about her waist.

Pregnancy had made her breasts grow, and now they

curved like beautiful persimmons. She curled a leg around me, and rubbed my calf with her heel. My cock stiffened against her stomach, and she caressed my balls gently.

I carried her to my small camp cot and laid her down on it. I stood over her, bestriding the cot She lay with her head back, then opened her eyes and looked up at me, and smiled, dreamily. She pulled her gown up until it pooled in her lap. She brought one leg up, then the other, and let her thighs fall apart.

"Did you dream about me, my husband?"

"Every night."

"I dreamed about you, and tried to find a bit of pleasure in my own ways. But they were nothing compared to you."

Still smiling, she began stroking her sex, and put one finger, then the other, inside herself, moving them in and out gently.

"I am wet, Damastes," she moaned. "I am ready for you. Come love me, come fuck me now."

I knelt on the coach, and as I touched her wetness with my cock she jerked. I entered her, but only until the head was buried, then moved it slightly in and out.

"All the way, put it in all the way," she said, but I continued the slight motions. "Oh, love, please, please, it's been so long, oh, split me, tear me, oh, fuck me!"

I withdrew slightly and she suddenly hooked her heels under the cot's sideboards, and levered herself up until I was buried in her. She cried out, and I fell across her, pounding as her hips drove against me, her hands pulling at my back, her mouth open, gasping, our wet lips sliding across each other, and we were one again.

"Soldiers of Numantia," Tenedos's amplified voice boomed across the vast formation. "You have served your country, and me, as well.

"I promised you rewards for your sacrifices, and you believed me, and have been most patient. In Polycittara I gave you a taste of what I promised. There shall be more, much more, in the days to come.

K "I shall begin with six of my best soldiers.

"All of them are generals, and richly deserve the rank. They are heroes as well.

'This day, I am creating a new rank, the rank of tribune. Here is its symbol of office." He held up an onyx rod, about two feet long, with silver bands around either end.

The six of us standing at attention before Tenedos were amazed. There'd been no clues as to why he called this army-wide formation, nor why he'd called us up from the heads of our own units.

"My tribunes will hold the highest commands, and will be answerable only to me.

"Now I shall name them. You know them by name and reputation, but I shall have a few words to say about each.

"My first tribune shall be Damastes a Cimabue. He was the first to follow me, and has been the bravest of the brave, from Kiat to the final destruction of Chardin Sher, serving in every conceivable way. Tribune d Cimabue, I honor you for your service."

He walked forward, and handed me the first staff. I heard the army roar approval behind me. I was incapable of speech, never having dreamed of such an honor. Tenedos must have known what I was thinking, because he smiled, and said softly, "You see what happens when you listen to a madman in a mountain pass?" I managed to salute, and he stepped back. The others would come to him.

"The second is General Hern, a man who has always led from the front, always obeying my commands, and always providing an example." Hern received his baton as well.

"The third is General Myrus Le Balafre, our best swordsman and a man who leads by example. He needs no medals, for his scarred body shows how he has given his life to Numantia." Le Balafre took his baton, and walked back beside me. I whispered congratulations, and he nodded thanks. "I guess I'll stay around for the peace," he replied.

"Life looks like it shall be interesting now."

"The fourth," Tenedos's voice thundered, "is General

Yonge. I wish all who are not native Numantians to note this honor, and recognize that there shall be no prejudice for or against people from one state or another, nor against those who choose to enter my service from other nations." I was waiting for Yonge to shout something outrageous, but the occasion seemed to have overwhelmed him.

Knuckling tears from the corner of his eyes, he took the baton and stumbled back to our small formation, forgetting to salute the seer-general.

"The fifth is General Cyrillos Iinerges, who returned to the army in its hour of need, and has risen through the ranks rapidly as he proved again and again his leadership and bravery." Linerges, an arm still bandaged from the battle with the Kallian Army, beamed.

"My final appointment is to General Petre, a man who fights as hard with his brain as his sword. He should be a study for you young officers that time spent studying Ihe art of war instead of gaming or wenches can be profitable. General Petre has done as much to form this army as anyone, and this is his reward." Petre, humorless as ever, marched to Tenedos, took the baton, saluted snappily, and about-faced. He saw me looking at him, and a smile crossed his face for just an instant Then his expression became as wooden as usual and he returned to ranks.

"Six men," Tenedos said. "They are but the beginning, and an example. I know there are men out there listening who shall one day carry this black rod, and further honor themselves, their family, their state, and all Numantia."

"That," Tenedos said, "was the first arrow of my campaign."

"So the Rule of Ten knows nothing about your creating this new rank?"

"They do now."

"What do you suppose they shall do?"

"I'm not sure. That's why I asked you to join me with the special detail I asked for."

That "special detail," nearly men, rode behind us as we clattered into the outskirts of Nicias. They were all volunteers,

* then hand-combed for toughness of mind and body. There were almost as many officers as enlisted men.

Among them were Tribune Yonge, Domina Bikaner, and hard fighters like Regimental Guide Evatt, Sergeants Karjan, Svalbard, and Curti, and others I knew not but whose dedication had been attested to by their officers.

They carried not only their swords, but daggers and, hidden under their dress uniforms, truncheons.

Tenedos had personally given them their orders before we rode out of camp, and told them they could be called in various-sized groups, and then named men to each group.

We were heading for the Palace of the Rule of Ten.

"I am delighted," Speaker Barthou said, "to honor you, Seer-General Tenedos, for having served us so well."

"I served not only you, sir, but our homeland of Numantia." Tenedos stood in the center of the great audience chamber. I stood just behind and to one side, as he'd ordered.

"We have arranged a great triumph for the army," Barthou went on, "then feasts, ceremonies, celebrations, all that Nicias can do to show its gratitude." There were cheers, and for the first time Barthou appeared to notice that the balconies were full of soldiers in uniform. He looked worried.

"We thank you," Tenedos said. "But in fact there is more Nicias can do, and must if proper honor is to be shown. Brave service is best rewarded with real gifts."

"What do you mean?" Barthou looked upset; this was clearly not going as planned.

"First, gold. Pensions for the men who must be invalided out of service. Compensation for men who were crippled, losing an arm, an eye, or whatever. More, sir. Numantia is a vast country, and there is much land unworked. I would suggest that the Rule of Ten grant small holdings to those veterans who leave the service."

"That's unheard of!" Barthou blurted. I looked at Scopas, Tenedos's sometimes ally, and he, too, looked surprised, then a calculating expression crossed his face.

Boos and shouts came from the gallery. The Rule of Ten's guards looked more nervous than their masters.

Tenedos turned, and stared up at the soldiers, and there was an instant silence.

Before Barthou could continue, Scopas rose.

"Excuse me, Speaker. But, as you say, the noble seer-general has presented some unusual ideas. I think we should withdraw and consider them."

Someone shouted from the balcony, "How long, y' bassids? Y' gonna forget about us like allus?"

Scopas looked up and addressed the anonymous jeerer.

"We shall be out for less than an hour, sir. You have my promise."

Barthou was about to protest, but I saw Scopas move his head slightly.

"Very well. Within the hour."

The Rule of Ten filed out.

"Before we continue," Barthou said, "I have some announcements to make." The man looked gray, ashen, as if his life had been threatened.

"First, let us congratulate the men Seer-General Teredos proclaimed tribunes. We find this a worthy idea, and are sorry we did not devise it ourselves."

The Rule of Ten turned their attention to me. I kept my face blank, but I thought, So, you are trying to woo me, and the other five as well. What will you offer?

"We wish to offer our own rewards as well," Barthou went on. "I note that Gen—Tribune a Cimabue, Count Agramonte, is with us. Tribune, it honors us greatly to name you life-baron. We invite you to choose the remainder of your title at your leisure.

"We also wish to give all tribunes an annual salary of fifty thousand gold coins and will provide estates as well, these estates to be maintained by the government.

"Baron and Tribune a Cimabue, Count Agram nte, since you were the first to be named to the rank, we grant you the Water Palace, to be used as you see fit during your lifetime.

* "Other tribunes will be given similar gifts.

"Now, Seer-General—"

"Before you give me anything," Tenedos interrupted, "what of the land grants I spoke of?"

"They shall be made, sir," Scopas said. "We shall set up a commission to begin giving these grants out within a year."

Tenedos stared at him.

"A year, eh? That should be discussed. But go on."

I heard a rumble from the troops in the balconies.

Scopas indicated to Barthou he had the floor again.

"Seer-General Tenedos," Barthou said, "you are created a hereditary baron, and one hundred thousand gold coins per year and an estate for your reward now, with other honors to follow."

Barthou paused, expecting, no doubt, Tenedos to babble thanks. But the seer said, coldly, "That is not nearly adequate."

"What?"

"I think we should withdraw to your chambers once more and discuss this matter," the sorcerer said.

"There's no need to do that," Barthou protested.

"This situation is entirely out of hand," his newly appointed lapdog, Timgad, blurted.

"No," Tenedos corrected. "The matter is well under control, in spite of what you gentlemen think. Now, shall we retire for a few moments?"

There was hasty agreement. The Rule of Ten rose, and started for the exit. Tenedos turned to me and signaled.

'Tribune?"

I spun. 'Ten men!" I shouted, and there was a clatter as soldiers ran down the stairs from the gallery.

Among them were Svalbard and Karjan.

"What is thisT Timgad protested.

"You shall find out shortly." Timgad was apoplectic, and Scopas took his arm and dragged him out.

"How could you bring armed soldiers into our most private chambers?" Barthou hissed.

"I invited them because I don't trust you," Tenedos said calmly. "However, I mean them only as personal protection, not as a threat."

I nearly smiled, knowing the ten hard men against the wall behind me hardly presented a pacifistic image.

"So what is it you desire?" Scopas said. "This matter, as Timgad said, is getting out of hand."

"Many things. We shall start with what's been said already. The matter of land for my soldiers shall be handled immediately, not within a year or so. Second, those whom you name barons, like Tribune a Cimabue, shall be given hereditary ranks, instead of the shameful life-peerages."

"How dare you dictate to us?" Barthou shrilled.

"I dare, because of those men who stand behind me. I dare, because I am a true Numantian. I dare ...

because I dare."

"Go on," Scopas said grimly.

"You are given forty-eight hours from this moment. At the end of that time, you are to announce that the Rule of Ten is withdrawing from actively governing to an advisory position, and that you have finally found the emperor you were ordered to name, and supposedly have been seeking all these decades."

"And what if we don't?"

Tenedos stared at Barthou until he looked away.

"A year ago, the army was in the streets of Nicias, doing your bidding, bringing peace," he said. "If you do not obey my orders, it shall rule Nicias with the sword once more.

"And you shall bitterly rue the consequences.

"You cannot change what will happen. I shall be emperor, with or without your bumbling approval. The time has come for changes, and I have been chosen by Saionji to make them.

'Think well, think wisely," Tenedos said grimly. "For the blood shall be on your hands."

Without farewell, without salute, he stalked out, paying no heed to the gabble and shouts from behind.

THIRTY The Crown I stood beside the altar, the high priest at my side. He held a heavy box in his arms, a box made of solid gold and crusted with gems.

The huge temple was full. Every nobleman and -woman who could reach Nicias packed its main floor and balconies.

The center aisle was lined with soldiers. All of them were tribunes or generals.

Trumpets blared, the great doors opened, and Tenedos entered as the audience stood. Instead of seer's robes, he wore the simple uniform of an army officer, but without badges of rank or decorations.

Music from an unseen orchestra swelled, and Tenedos paced slowly toward the altar. As he passed each officer, the man knelt in obeisance, and the men and women behind them bowed humbly.

He reached the foot of the altar and stopped.

"Are you the man named Laish Tenedos?" the priest asked.

"I am he."

"You are chosen by the Rule of Ten, in the names of Umar, of Irisu, of... of Saionji," the priest stumbled over the last-minute addition to the ritual, and I heard gasps from the audience, "of Panoan, and all the rest of those mighty beings who created and watch over Numantia, to lead us.

"Laish Tenedos, I require you to promise that you shall

govern wisely and well, frequently consulting the gods to ensure you rule in wisdom, mercy, and justice, never treating your subjects with cruelty or disdain, never leading them into war without justification."

"I so vow."

"Then I proclaim you emperor of Numantia."

He opened the box and took out the single gold circlet.

'Tribune Damastes a Cimabue, Baron Damastes of Ghazi, Count Agramonte, you have been chosen the most worthy to crown the emperor. Take this diadem from my hands, and place it on your ruler's brow."

I lifted the circlet. As I did, I saw Maran in the audience, her face a beacon of love and hope.

I placed the circlet on Tenedos's brow, then knelt, bowing my head.

And that was how came to the throne.

On that day we stood on the summit of the highest mountain. All the world's glory spread below us.

It was the beginning of the end.

About the Author is the co-author (with Allan Cole) of the Sten series and the bestselling Anteros trilogy. As a solo writer, he is the author of the Shadow Warrior science fiction series from Del Rey. Both Ranger and airborne-qualified, he was part of the first troop correspondent for Stars and Stripes. He edited outlaw motorcycle magazines and, as a freelancer, wrote for everything from the underground press to Look magazine, Rolling Stone, and prime-time television. He is now a full-time novelist living in Washington State.