"None," he answered flatly. 'Tve never met anyone here or there who could actually sense as I do. Oh, many men have premonitions; I have those too, but it's not at all the same."

"No," Aldora nodded slowly, "it's not. It's as a lampflame to Sacred Sun. But as I said, the ability itself, while valuable to one who is practically a professional warrior, means less than what your development of it means."

"Sun and Wind, woman," he snapped, "will you stop speaking in ciphers? After all, Tm a poor, short-lived man. I lack the wisdom of an Undying."

She threw back her head and pealed her silvery laughter at the high, frescoed ceiling. "If I knew a way to make you such, my young stallion, you would be, and less for your mattress prowess than for your wit.

"But more seriously, what your rare talent indicates is an equally rare mind, Bili; a mind which not only recognized and fulfilled the need for a definite survival trait, but was capable of such fulfillment! For, if your mind is sufficiently versatile and adaptable without proper training, what stupendous feats might you accomplish when provided with the skills to consciously call forth who knows what from within yourself?

"And, apropos hidden abilities, I spoke with a merchant in Kehnooryos Atheenahs who told me a very interesting tale. It seems that he and some of his associates were journeying from the Kaliphate to the Confederation by way of the Eastern Trade Road, their wagons loaded with rich goods. At some spring camp in the County of Getzburk they and their Freefighters were set upon by a large and determined pack of brigands, and though they fought with stern resolution, it seemed certain that they must all soon be slain.

"Then, from the hill behind them came the unmistakable tumult of a full troop of kahtahfrahktoee or dragoons at the charge. Not only the merchants and their servants and Freefighters heard this troop, the robbers did too, and they consequently beat a quick, if disorganized, retreat-though because of rain and fog and ground mist, none could see the patrol.

"Yet, when the brigands were all fled and the rescued would have thanked their rescuers, what did they discover but that there was no troop, only a single armored axeman and his black warhorse. Yet all had heard the shouted commands, the chorus of war cries, the clanking and clashing of arms and equipment; they'd felt the drumming of scores of hooves and seen brief glimpses of a full patrol!

"And that merchant told me the name of his rescuer, as well. And do you know, love, the name he gave was yours. Sir Bili Morguhn?"

Bill's mindshield snapped into place like a steel visor, and so his answer was, perforce, spoken aloud. "It's as I told the merchant, Yahseer-it was just a case of fog and mist and, on the part of the brigands, fear, and, on the part of the others, wishful thinking, that let them imagine my sortie was the charge of a patrol . . . though, naturally, I did shout the orders and tell my horse to make lots of noise, but..."

She only grinned, her disbelief obvious, then went on, "And I recently spoke with another man who told me of a grim little set-to under the walls of besieged Behreezburk. He told me of a young axeman who rode out as surrogate for his king to meet the lord of that burk in personal combat. He told me of how that burk lord had, most dishonorably, concealed two armed, armored and mounted members of his bodyguard and how, when it became clear to him that his strength and weapons skills could not prevail against his opponent, he basely whistled up his dogs to cut down a man who had met him with the understanding that theirs was to be a single combat.

"This man told me of how the two guards charged in on their lord's flanks, yet suddenly threw up their shields and commenced to flail their swords at empty air, as if engaging enemies no one else could see! Then he told of how this young axeman cut down first the treacherous burk lord-who would, he said, have been slain by his own men had he survived, since he had so dishonored a sacred Swordoath-then the two bodyguards, who until their very deaths continued to flail away at nonexistent foemen.

"This man said that throughout the rest of that siege all in both armies called that valiant fighter 'Bili the Axe' and that, as a result of his prowess in that encounter, the King of Harzburk knighted him who slew the burk lord. This man attests that this same Bili the Axe is now called thoheeks and Chief of Morguhn. Those are your titles, are they not, beloved?"

"You know damned well they are!" Bili growled from betwixt clenched teeth.

"Then," she asked lightly, "is there not another talent of which you wish to tell me, sweetling?"

He glowered at her, snarling, "Damn that Hohguhn's wormy guts! He's Swordoathed to me, dammit When he gets back from Horse County, I'll-"

Her demeanor and tone became serious, then. "Thoheeks Bili will do nothing of a foolish or hostile nature to Freefighter Bohreegahd Hohguhn . . . not if he be truly the shrewd and sagacious chief that all believe him, that I would hope the man I have honored with my love to be.

"Besides, Hohguhn has no faintest germ of an idea that you had aught to do with bemusing those two would-be murderers. He thinks they must have been drunk or had mixed hemp juice with their tobacco. And this seems to have been the consensus of those who watched the combat from within Behreezburk.

"I can understand and appreciate your desire to keep the way you really triumphed a secret, since in Harzburk the knowledge that you had so slain three men might have seen you haled up before a Swordcouncil on charges of dishonorable conduct and witchcraft; nor would the owner of such unheard-of powers be either knighted or invested with the Order of the Bear of Harzbruk.

"But, sweetheart, if ever again you return to the Middle Kingdoms, it will be as but a visiting nobleman from another realm. Nor will you, if ever that day comes, wish to display your bear, since, at the conclusion of this present unpleasantness, Milo means to see you wear a cat"

At his stunned expression, her laughter pealed once more. "Oh, poor Bili, you look as if smitten with your own great axe." She sobered and her voice softened perceptibly. "But if anyone in this duchy deserves a cat, it is you, my love; so says the Undying High Lord Milo of Morai. Though bemused by a blow on the helm toward the end, he was conscious during the whole of that fight you commanded at what-do-you-call-it Bridge, and he avows that seldom in all bis centuries of life has he witnessed such feats of prowess and selfless valor as you displayed, Bili."

She moved closer and, taking his big hand in both her smaller ones, said softly, "And the Undying Lady Aldora wfll be both happy and deeply honored to take part in your investiture, my own thoheeks, and she will feel fierce pride when all the capital sees you ride your great horse forward to salute your High Lord, hear him recount your glorious exploits to the assembled Holders of the Cat, then receive from his hands the jeweled symbol of the Confederation's gratitude. But I alone will know that there be far more to this newest member of the Order of the Cat than only courage and expertise at war. I will know that your stark ferocity be tempered with tenderness, your bravery with love. My only regret will be then, as it now is, that all the wonders we share must so soon end. . . ." Her voice broke then, trailed off, her shoulders and head drooped.

"But why," he demanded bursquely, "why must our . . . our love end, Aldora? I can let my brother, Tchahrlee, rule Morguhn, can have him declared thoheeks and chief, can come to Kehnooryos Atheenahs and be with you as long as I live!"

"Yes, my Bfli, as long as you live." She raised her head, brushing her long black hair away from her heart-shaped, now tear-streaked, face, fixed his hurt and angry blue eyes with the gaze of her black, swimming eyes. "And each new day would see my love for you grow in depth and intensity, and each new day would see you one day older, one day closer to death. And as advancing age set hateful teeth to gnawing painfully at that splendid body, I would be the same as I am now. And you could not but resent such an injustice, my love, and so even as my love for you increased, your love would be souring from resentment to dislike to hate and- no, be still, let me finish.

"I know what you were going to say, the denials you were about to make, but please believe me, love, I know the truth of what I have said, for I have seen and experienced it ... many times. If we Undying be truly cursed, as the Ehleen priests avow, this be the curse: an endless time of loneliness with but brief, tantalizing snatches of real happiness or love.

"Then there is this, Dili. You are a rare man, a rare and wonderful combination of assets. It would be the most terrible of misdeeds not to bend every effort of will in persuading you to breed soon and often, that your precious strain may be carried on to the enrichment and glory of the Confederation in coming generations. Nothing would give me more joy than to be able to bear your sons and daughters, sweet love, but we Undying can neither sire nor conceive, even among ourselves.

"And so, my Bili, you and I have a year or two, mayhap even three, but then Milo and Mara and my own conscience will insist that we get you wedded and bedded to some Kindred maids of good mindspeak stock and proven fertility."

All at once, she threw her wiry, well-formed body against his with such force that she bore him onto his back. Savagely, she ground her mouth on his lips, while her hands frantically grasped and kneaded his body, mindspeaking, "Oh, my own dear love, three years is so very little time, let us not waste a second of it Oh, love me, Bili, please, please love me!"

Slowly, the late or delayed noblemen trickled into Mor-guhnpolis and, by the waning of the Wine Moon, all the thoheeks of the archduchy were assembled, along with most of the Kindred and Ehleenoee landholders-all save Thoheeks Djehs of Vawn and his kin.

And this last very nearly precipitated strife amidst those assembled, since it was necessary that a surrogate be named to fill the chair of the missing duke. As it was quite likely, judging from the testimonies of those few Vawnee taken alive, that the surrogate would be confirmed Thoheeks of Vawn in the end, and as Vawn was a rich duchy, what with its mines and high leas full of sheep and goats, all of the great nobles proposed a younger son or a favored kinsman for the needed surrogate. But to approve one would be to offend all the rest, and Milo could see this enterprise-organized to promote unity amongst the nobles. Kindred or Ehleenoee-dissolving into hotheaded recriminations and, possibly, blood feuding.

Bili of Morguhn arose from his place at the council table. "My Kindred, I, too, wish to propose a surrogate for Thoheeks Vawn of revered memory."

Thoheeks Hwil of Bailee of Blue Mountain smiled tightly, his bald pate reflecting as much lamplight as Bili's shaven one. "We are sure you do, young Morguhn. But you must realize that after the reconquest of Vawn, a man with both a strong hand and mature judgment is going to be needed in that duchy. All your brothers are just too young."

Bili's wolf grin answered the old thoheeks" smile. "Just so, Kindred, just so. That is why I propose Chief Hwahltuh of Sanderz as surrogate Thoheeks Vawn."

While the "noble gentlemen" shouted, snarled, cursed, pounded the tabletop and similarly carried out their polite discussion of the proposal of Morguhn, Milo mindspoke Bili on a level to which none of the others could attain.

"Why the Sanderz, Bili? Because he seems intent on wedding one of your mothers, or simply because you like himr

"Neither," replied the young duke. "Who my mothers choose to wed is their affair. And while I respect the Sanderz for his fighting skills, his leadership abilities and his horsemanship, among other things, I sometimes find him a damned hard man to stomach. So I can't say that I like him.

"No, I am just weary unto death of this squabbling, this senseless wrangling over Vawn. When first I met most of these men, I was almost in awe of them, but this business has shown me their other guises. They're like wild dogs snarling and snapping over a rotted carcass.

"Since Chief Hwahltuh be True Kindred, my lord, why not give him and his clan Vawn? Why make him go on to Kehnooryos Atheenahs to swear his oaths to you when he can do so here? Admittedly, I be ignorant of many of the finer points of custom and the Law of the Tribe, but this course seems practical and, if we act now, mayhap we can get this war done by harvest time."

Milo mindspoke dryly, "But how to get such practicality across to your peers? Be not too harsh in your judgment of them, though, Bili; the chiefs who were their many-times-grandsires were no less petulant and quarrelsome, yes, and just as grasping at times."

"ENOUGH?' snapped the ahrkeethoheeks disgustedly. "Our young Kinsman's proposal is the best I expect to hear. I, for one, am in favor of immediately adopting it. I say we name Chief Hwahltuh surrogate Thoheeks Vawn. To simplify matters, why not combine the names-Thoheeks and Chief of Vawn-Sanderz. Eh?"

Squat, muscular, black-haired Thoheeks Djaimzos of Duhn-kin slapped horny palm to table. "Not so fast, Kinsman, not so fasti Part of the Agreements of Confederation states, if I recall properly, that new-come clans will not be given the lands or any parts thereof already settled by Kindred. The High Lord may correct me if I be wrong, but I believe that he has, in times past, given such newcomers recently subdued border lands for their duchies; in fact, I think Vawn was originally one such, years agone.

"No, we must look amongst the old, established Kindred for a proper surrogate, and I can think of none better than my brother Tanist Petros' son-in-law, Vahrohneeskos Ahrktos Baikuh!"

"That dimwit?" snorted Thoheeks Hari of Baikuh, his brick-red mustachios quivering, his gray eyes flashing. "My cousin-my own mother's sister's son-he be, yet I must teU you that Cousin Ahrktos cannot find his arse with both hands! Quite frankly, we had almost despaired of finding a noble Kinsman stupid enough to suffer a daughter to marry the moron, until"-he grinned slyly-"we lucked onto the House of Duhnkin.

"No, if a Baikuh's to be chosen-and what House better qualified?-my second-oldest brother, Komees Lupos, who-"

"Who," Thoheeks Alehk of Skaht sneered, "anytime you or even your horse farts, shouts 'Here I be, my lord!' Oh, true, he obviously knows his name and station, but the Vawn went to Wind bravely and in honor. Can we choose a lesser man for such a chiefs surrogate?"

He paused to clear his throat. "Now my son, Dahn-"

Another round of shouting, threating and general uproar then ensued. Milo's broadbeamed mindspeak finally ended it.

"Gentlemen . . . and I use the term very loosely since there appear to be but two such in my presence. There be weightier things at hand than the disposal of a vacant title and its lands, and these be not yours to award in any case but mine. I have decided in favor of Thoheeks Morguhn's wise suggestion.

"Nor can this decision be construed as favoritism, since the Sanderz is Kindred to all here yet close relative of none.

"Nor, Thoheeks Duhnkin, are the Agreements of Confederation in any manner compromised by this decision. Think you, are we not all here assembled to conquer Vawn? Are not Chief Hwahltuh and most of his clan's fighters taking part in that conquest? Could we adhere any more closely to the Agreements, then?"

So it was that, before all the assembled nobles of the archduchy, Chief Hwahltuh of Sanderz and his clansmen took their oaths to the Undying God of the Horseclans, Milo of Morai, High Lord of the Confederation of Kindred and Ehleenoee.

After so many weeks of living and fighting and roistering among these, once strange, eastern Kinsmen, the short, wiry, middle-aged warrior was no longer ill at ease, though he still held Milo in greater awe than did the more sophisticated easterners. In the new clothing, boots and armor Bili had pressed upon him, he impressively fulfilled his part of the long ceremony, and he was proclaimed Thoheeks of Vawn and Chief of Sanderz by the High Lord, these titles being confirmed by each of the major and minor nobles, in turn- which took considerable time plus the best efforts of a brazen-throated sergeant major of the Confederation kahtahfrahk-toee.

And when "Komees Daiviz of Horse County!" was called, the chunky Vaskos stood and roared back his "Aye, my lords. All of Horse County say, 'Long life to Thoheeks Hwahltuh of Vawn!'"

"And so," Komees Hari's son went on, smiling at Bili over his goblet of Vahrohnos Myros' best honey wine, "we cleared the county of rebels. As best we can figure, only the huntsman, Danos, escaped us. At least we couldn't find his body, though his sword, bow and armor and all his clothing were still in his quarters. Among those papers I brought is the receipt from your prison keeper for the persons of Lady Hehrah Daiviz, Sub-kooreeos Pavlos and his woman, one Ntohrees Kahntlehs. The only others left alive in Horse Hall were the headman's kidnapped wife and a handful of servants' children, all of them since taken in by villagers who had lost their own to Hehrah's evil."

Bill nodded. "Then I assume Hari'll not be taking part in the campaign?"

Vaskos' hearty chuckle nearly slopped out his wine. "Hardly. Hell be along presently, though we'll be in Vawn by then-hopefully. But you know Father-first come his people, then his purse, though he's not nearly so impecunious as you'd think by his bellyaching.

"No, he wants to be sure that his folk and his horses will be well provided for and ascertain the minimum number of men required to take in the crops if the campaign outlasts this season.

"Oh, and speaking of men, Father has learned his lesson. You recall how adamant he was that he'd never maintain Freefighters at Horse Hall? Well, he's kept eight-no, nine- of yours. But I'm sure Boh Hohguhn will cover that in his report, after which, with your permission, of course, he's promised to go out and help me sign on a score of good Freefighters for Father's own use."

Lieutenant Hohguhn's report was short and • concise. He told of one man killed by slingstone and two wounded, one of them soon to come back to the army with the old komees; the other, though he had at first appeared to have suffered only a bump on the head, had become prone to fainting fits and, after pitching down a staircase one day, had died of a broken neck. The officer had brought back the dead men's horses and gear, and he assured Bill that when he assisted Vaskos in recruiting the Daiviz condotta, he would sign on two good fighters to replace the losses.

Chapter VIII

After a long, arduous march, which had included several inconclusive skirmishes with the wild mountain tribesmen, Drehkos Daiviz and his battered band at last crossed the northwestern border of Vawn, rested briefly at a deserted hall, then continued on toward Vawnpolis-which city had no Ehleen name, since there had been no city on its site in Ehleen times, nor had the duchy even been a part of the Kingdom of Karaleenos then.

The utter desolation of the countryside through which they marched appalled Drehkos, and the evidences of savageries and atrocities sickened him. Here lay the rotted remains of a whole herd of sheep and, farther on, the animal-gnawed bones of a foal, its legs looking to have been lopped off with a sword; mutilated, bird-picked human corpses dangled from trees and improvised crosses. And in empty halls and deserted villages were hints of other things, deeds so depraved that the sinister thoughts of what they might have been set Drehkos' skin acrawl. That Drehkos had never been initiated into the Deeper Mysteries of the Faith was perhaps the wisest decision Vahrohnos Myros had ever made.

As for the vahrohnos, he had regained his senses after a week or so and, when again he could sit a horse, had expected to assume command. But by that time, the fleeing rebels-of Morguhn and Vawn alike-had come to rely upon Drehkos. Not all of the peacock-proud Myros* boasts of his own military exploits and experience or his snarled references to Vahrohneeskos Daiviz' lack of such could shake the faith of those men who had come to appreciate Drehkos' quiet courage, that manner which was unruffled and quick-witted even in the midst of an unexpected ambush and the tactical decisions which, though usually unorthodox, were usually right.

Denied what he considered to be his rightful station and deference, Myros became petty and spiteful, dragging out his memory and gleefully recounting to all and sundry forty years' worth of Drehkos' peccadilloes and profligacies and, when memory and facts failed, spinning ne,w tales. When questioned, Drehkos admitted those bits of vicious gossip which were true and quietly denied Myros' false slanders, all the while continuing to lead as best he knew how, further uncovering a never before suspected natural aptitude for command and leadership, and learning the exacting art of mountain warfare by bitter experience.

By the time they crossed into Vawn, only Myros* servants and bodyguards would listen to a word he had to say, and even they laughed behind their hands when he launched another round of slanders against the man who was now unquestionably their commander; the other Morguhnee and Vawnee barely tolerated the vahrohnos.

Nor was it any different in Vawnpolis, which soon was babbling in every quarter tales of that epic march through the dreaded mountains and murderous tribes and of the calm and competent leadership of Vahrohneeskos Drehkos Daiviz. Calm or competent leaders were indeed rare in doomed, overcrowded Vawnpolis, so Drehkos not only found himself lionized but quickly ensconced high in the command structure of the Crusader forces, as well as becoming the chief of the Morguhn refugee community.

And as Drehkos' star spectacularly waxed, so did Myros' wane. Before his very face both noble and commoner aped mocking parodies of his pompous bearing and affected mannerisms and, when the last of his jewels had gone to buy the few morsels of poor food they would bring, his servants and guards deserted him. Finally only the charity of the Church sustained him. Occasionally, while Drehkos and his staff supervised the strengthening of the walls or the emplacement of a new-made engine on them, the vahrohneeskos would see on a street below Myros' shambling figure, garbed in his ragged, tattered finery. Of neither his exalted pedigree nor his high attainments nor his expropriated wealth was there any evidence in that unshaven, unwashed rooter in garbage piles.

In addition to Drehkos and the small staff of nobles, artisans and soldiers screened from the group which had followed him from Morguhn, there was but a bare handful of organizers to attempt to marshal the jam-packed city, find supplies and improve defenses for the attack and siege which was as certain as the morning sunrise. Not that any of the more rational rebels expected to do more than die, if lucky, with some degree of honor. But there did exist, they tried to assure themselves and their people, an outside chance that, if they could put up a really determined defense, they might delay the inevitable long enough to squeeze some sort of terms from the advancing hosts, who would probably be anxious to have any trouble settled by harvest time.

Such had been the extent of the negleot of growing crops in Vawn and the senseless destruction of flocks, herds, barns and storehouses that the foraging parties ranged far and wide with but scant success.

And even while they feverishly prepared against its coming, the leaders secretly prayed for the arrival of the heathen host, hopeful that the immediate proximity of a common foe would help to unite the faction-ridden, mutually hostile inhabitants of Vawnpolis. For the Church, which might have been expected to exercise a steadying and cohesive influence, had wreaked just the opposite to the point where it was frequently all that the overworked soldiery could do to keep the rabid adherents of no less than three self-proclaimed kooreeoee from one another's throats. Also, all was not sweetness and light betwixt the other disparate elements seething in the overcrowded, underfed city-original urbanites, Vawnee villagers, Morguhnee villagers and city folk, with a leavening of out-and-out bandits from both duchies, all thieved upon and battled with each other when they were not in flight from or in combat with the few thousand loyal spear levymen and nobles' retainers who composed the only dependable troops.

Danos, now troop sergeant of Lord Drehkos' Morguhn Cavalry, had never in all his life enjoyed himself so much. In a city filled with boasters, he had only let slip references to the bloody battle at Horse Hall, his own heroic part in it and the gory path he had finally hacked through the ranks of attackers to make good his escape. So the rank and file respected him, and, as he was a reminder of better times, of golden days spent in the company of good old Hari, Drehkos favored the former banter as much as he did any man.

He loved the charging down upon a street packed with rioters, loved the shock of his whip or staff or swordflat on unprotected heads and bodies, while his own stout plate gave him sure protection against such few, pitiful weapons as might be turned on him, since the inhabitants had been forceibly disarmed. Further, through clandestine sales of the food he stole from the citadel stores, he had become a wealthy man.

And his sex life had never been so rich and varied. In a city full of hungry strangers, it was breathtakingly easy to entice peasant girls-and even the occasional destitute noblewoman-to a certain rat-infested cellar hidden under a wrecked building, there to be tortured, raped and eventually killed. In the constant danger of life in Vawnpolis, no one with a grain of sense investigated nighttime screams of unknown origin, and Danos was careful to dump the mutilated bodies far from his hideaway and not in the same area twice, depending on the starving hordes of rats and packs of dogs to effectively camouflage the traces of his gruesome pleasure. It was all he could do to restrain his mirth when a comrade-in-arms told him the grim tale of a woman of his acquaintance who had apparently been torn to bits by the ravening curs; Danos had wondered briefly to which of his victims the man had referred.

Drehkos Daiviz reined up before a heavy gate set in high sandstone walls. A man of his strong escort toed forward and pounded his brass whip pommel on one of the iron-studded portals until a small panel opened behind a grid of bars.

"I am Ahthelfahs Mahrios," growled the bearded warder in an archaic dialect. "What is it you want?"

"A word with your eeloheemehnos, monk!" snapped Drehkos impatiently. "And quickly, mind you. You may tell him his visitor is Vahrohneeskos Drehkos."

Now old Drehkos in all probability would have waited the quarter-hour the gate warder was gone, then shrugged and gone on his way. But this Drehkos, radically forged by stress and circumstances, was of a stronger metal.

Turning to Danos, he snapped, "Sergeant, order the ram up; that bastard's been gone long enough!"

At Danos' shouted order, a double file of riders trotted forward, a massive, iron-beaked timber slung by thick cables from their horses' triple-weight harnesses. With the projecting beak a few handspans from the gate, the riders dismounted and, with the expertise of much recent practice, took hold of spikes driven into the beam, essayed a few short swings to build momentum, then sent the ram crashing against the center of the monastery gate with a sound almost deafening in the narrow street. At once, a chorus of panic-stricken shouts erupted from behind the high walls, at least one of them loudly promising eternal damnation to all without should one more blow be struck. But at a nod from Drehkos, the men swung again, and again and again and yet again. On the third blow, the point of impact splintered and with a whine of tortured metal, the great iron lock bolt snapped. The fourth buffet tore out the hinges and the gate groaned and sagged, now supported only by its bar, which resoundingly parted at the fifth impact. The rammers drew their horses aside so that Drehkos and most of his force might ride through the archway, hooves booming hollowly on the shattered portal. And even as the vahrohneeskos and his men entered the courtyard, several large oxdrawn wains queued up behind them.

The burly, white-bearded abbot strode forward, his black eyes flashing, rage afflicting his deep voice with a tremolo. "You Morguhn barbarian! You'll be made to pay for that gate, sure as my . . . my . . . and . . . and get your men and beasts out of our courtyard! D'you hear me? And what are those wains for?"

Blank-faced, his voice dripping caustic sarcasm, Drehkos answered, "Why holy eeloheemehnos, to collect your freewill offering of stores for the Vawnpolis larder, of course."

"But," spluttered the abbot, "we did contribute. Why, a wagonload was driven to the Citadel but a week since!"

Drehkos struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Of course! How could I have forgotten so generous a gift-a bare score of moldy hams, some barrels of weevily flour and two tuns of inferior wine. Wasn't that the inventory, holy sir?"

The elder put on a long, sad face, while his arrogance dissolved into restrained patience. "We gave our humble best, noble sir. You must realize that as holy men devoted to lives of quiet and contemplation, the eschewing of sinful, worldly pleasures and mortification of our flesh for the betterment of our souls .. .**

When he could stop laughing, Drehkos wiped at streaming eyes and, leaning aching sides across his saddlebow, said, "I could almost love you for that, you lying old bugger; you've given me the first real laugh I've enjoyed in nearly two weeks. But you may cease trying to delude me with your pious hypocrisy. It's a well-known fact that you set a better table than did the late Thoheeks Vawn. So show my men to your magazines. I warn you, if we must waste our time in searching for them, you'll be very unhappy."

"I tell ypu, we have nothing left!" shouted the abbot, his anger returning. "Do you doubt the word of a one sworn to the Holy Orders of God? I trow your faith must be as pale a thing as your eyes, to behave in so heathenish a manner when in so sacred a place!"

Turning to the Ehleen-appearing Danos, he demanded, "Have you and the others looked to your souls' welfare, that you follow the sinful commands of an obvious heretic backslider?"

Though Danos just grinned, then spat between the abbot's sandaled feet, several of the troopers squirmed uncomfortably in their saddles, but the ready laugh of their revered leader reassured them.

"Divide and conquer, hey?" exclaimed Drehkos. "Why holy sir, I'd thought you but a simple monk. "Perhaps I should have a man of such quick and shrewd mind on my staff? But you waste your breath and our time.

"Sergeant, take a squad and search this warren . . . and, be there complaint, you and your men will know whose word will weigh heaviest."

The abbot threw up his hands, apparently having already been apprised of what had ensued when, on the previous day, the prioress of the House of Saints Ehlaina and Faiohdohra foolishly remained adamant in the face of this resolute and unbiddable lord. "Wait, wait, vahrohneeskos, please, no search will be necessary; one of the brothers will conduct you to our pitiful storeroom."

Seeing it, Drehkos agreed that pitiful was indeed the proper adjective. The contents would not have half-filled one of the wains. "Now, sergeant, take that squad and let us see where these reverend gentlemen hide their real stores."

The heavily guarded caravan of wains had to make no less than three round trips ere the monastery's cupboard was finally bare. In the course of finding the concealed storerooms, some of the building suffered unavoidable structural damage and a number of small valuables disappeared, but Drehkos would hear none of the abbot's complaints.

"You pompous, lying jackass! These men will shortly be fighting to save your scaly hide. You should be on your knees thanking them, giving them anything they might desire. Without a doubt, I should drive you and your band of useless mouths into the countryside, let you try to make a separate peace with the Kindred ... if you can."

The abbot visibly trembled. This was precisely what had been done to the holy sisters of his order on the previous day. Weeping and wailing, they all had been herded out the east gate into the barrenness which Vawn had become. And their sacred precincts were now housing refugees.

The old abbot crumbled. "Please . .. sir, you could not be so ... so cruel... ?"

"Could I not?" growled Drehkos. "It might be interesting to see just how well God appreciates your services, just how well He would provide for you beyond the city walls. But it is because of those very walls that I desist.

"You and your monks may draw daily rations at the Citadel, starting tomorrow morning. At that time, certain of my agents will inform you as to where you will report to labor on our defenses."

A bit of the abbot's old fire briefly rekindled. "But... but this is ... is unbearable! We be holy men; many of us are as noble as you, sir! You cannot ask us to do the work of common laborers. We have dedicated our lives to contemplation and prayer."

Drehkos frowned, knitting up his brows.  "Holy sir, it would pain me to watch you and yours starve." "You would not dare!" hissed the abbot. Drehkos shrugged. "I would have no choice, holy sir. You were delivered a copy of our proclamation, that I know for a fact, and you must have at least glanced at it. Those who do not work toward the defense of Vawnpolis do not eat of our meager stores."

"You cannot be a true Knight of the Faith." The old man shook his head vehemently. "For such a decent, Christian man would not rob holy men of their poor all, then give them so hideous a choice: forced labor or starvation!"

Clenching a handful of the abbot's fine silken robe, Drehkos slammed him up against a wall, snarling, "Oh, I be one of your damned Knights, right enough, the more fool I! Like many another in this stinking dunghill city, I've forfeited nearly all I own to your damned, doomed Holy Cause. I turned on a much-loved brother and saw to the murder of a nephew who had never harmed me or mine. Along with a pervert whose guts I detest, I besieged the hall of a young man I honestly liked and admired while his old father lay sick and dying within! To escape the righteous wrath of those I'd wronged, I took a group of brave men through country unfit for goats and, to my shame and sorrow, left the bones of far too many of them bleaching there.

"While you and your precious 'holy men' have been gorging yourselves on viands of the sort we just commandeered, we Knights of the Faith, up at the Citadel, have been faring but twice daily-and then only on bread and wine and a noisome stew of 'Vawnpolis squirrel,' which beast you better-fed types would call a rat! And why? So that such slender resources as we have might be husbanded against a long siege."

Releasing the shaken churchman and stepping back, Drehkos' voice became flat and unemotional. "You have your choices, eeloheemehnos: work and you eat and remain here; try to remain idle and not only will you not receive rations but tomorrow's sunset will see you and any other nonworkers sharing the same soul-enriching privation which the holy sisters are now, no doubt, enjoying."

Chapter IX

None of the noble Vawnpolitan rebels had known Drehkos Daiviz well. There was not that much contact between the minor nobility of neighboring duchies-this was a long-established custom which was designed to prevent inbreeding of noble houses and to assure the certainty that komeesee, vahrohnoee, vehrohneeskoee and city lords owned allegiance to but a single thoheeks.

But, of course, ill gossip always traveled like wildfire, so most of the surviving noble rebels had heard of the ne'er-do-well wastrel scion of the House of Daiviz, who had offended both Kindred and Ehleenee by marrying a woman of common blood whose kin worshiped neither Sun nor Son, then had spent the most of his life squandering her fortune on harebrained commercial ventures. But they had difficulty in seeing anything of the luxury-prone, self-centered profligate of rumor in the person of the frighteningly competent, masterful man who led them now.

Before Drehkos' fortuitous arrival, the three nobles of Vawn had been at an utter loss as to how to even try to defend the city they had so recently wrested from its rightful owners, while instigated and led by Kooreeos Mahreeos. Word of his disappearance-dead or captured, no one could say which-during the frightful debacle under the walls of Morguhn Hall and, even worse, of the entrance into Mor-guhn of Confederation Regulars had sapped their resolve and rendered them almost as panic-stricken as the commoner Vawnpolitans and the hordes of refugees flooding in from Morguhn. They had been promised and had expected instant and continuing victory. For was not the only True God with them? But the Holy Crusade had been broken in Morguhn, with the very flower of its forces extirpated. And, facing unbeatable odds, their backs were truly and irrevocably to the wall, with now hostile duchies to north, east and south, and grim death to the west

A bare seventy years prior to the ill-starred rebellion, Vawn and its neighbors to north and south, Skaht and Baikuh, had for the most part been the uncontested domains of certain fierce tribes of mountain barbarians, whose constant and bloody raids on the lands of Morguhn, Duhnkin and Mahntguhmree had at last impelled the High Lord's armies to advance along a wide front, driving the mountain men, foot by bloody, hard-fought foot, out of their ancestral hill country-which, because it was difficult to farm and because the Karaleenos Ehleenee had been sowers and reapers rather than herders, had never been previously subdued.

Subsequent to the conquest, recently arrived Horseclans had been settled in the three duchies carved from most of the conquered lands. These clans were every bit as fierce and warlike as the mountain tribes, as the raiding parties which eluded the patrols of troops and strongly garrisoned western forts learned to their sorrow. But the dispossessed were a stubborn breed, and nearly twenty years of frequent and disastrous defeats were required to convince them that the foothill lands were irredeemably lost.

But they had neither forgotten nor forgiven. Their descendants crouched now in their mountains, laired up like savage beasts; seldom did they raid in force, but in winter-especially in hard ones-bands of lanky, bearded, ragged men would drift down from the high fastnesses to butcher a cow or horse or steal a few sheep. And the Vawnee simply wrote off such small depredations, and even some of the larger, for they had learned that attempts to pursue into those mountains were infinitely costly in time, effort and lives.

Only the addled or suicidal ventured near to the line of mostly deserted forts now, for the mountain men were wary, watchful and always athirst for lowland blood. When the Yawn Kindred had made their last, doomed stand at one of the forts, countless of the besieging Crusaders had wakened of a morning to find a comrade's head severed and propped before him, while several men had disappeared completely from within tents full of sleeping men-days later, the savagely mutilated bodies of these same unfortunates would just as mysteriously reappear close by the points from which they had been snatched, the marks of the hideous agony in which they had died clearly stamped on what was left of their faces.

That Vahrohneeskos Drehkos had led his column into these dreaded mountains, and had, more astoundingly, led more than two-thirds of his original force out, was considered something of a miracle by the Vawnpolitan nobles. The feat heartened their flagging spirits, briefly cheered them with the belief that, blessed with the resourcefulness and courage of such a paladin, there still might be some way of wriggling out of the straits into which greed, envy and an excess of religious zeal had led them.

Drehkos, on the other hand, never so deluded himself. He knew that all the noblemen and priests and most of the commoners were surely doomed, but a hitherto hidden pride compelled him to prepare for and deliver the fiercest battle of which he and the others were capable. For himself, he had no fear of death. It would be the last, deferred sharing with his dear Rehbehkah. But, naturally, no one else knew this, so his followers mistook the evidences of his longing for final surcease from the heartsickness he had suffered since his wife's death as but another Indication of his matchless bravery.

Through purest happenstance, Drehkos discovered in an unused room of the labyrinthine Citadel a small library of treatises on various aspects of land warfare, penned by such diverse authorities as Strahteegos Thoheeks Gabos, who had commanded the armies of the Confederation a good hundred years agone; Strahteegos Ahrkeethoheeks Greemnos, legendary general to the last King of Karaleenos; the Undying High Lady Aldora's work on cavalry tactics; and, most important to Drehkos' present problem, two encyclopedic discourses on the defense of walled cities, one by Ahnbahr Nahseerah, eighth Caliph of Zahrtohgah, the other by Buhk Headsplitter, first King of the ancient dynasty of Pitzburk, he who had defended his city against the combined armies of Harzburk and Eeree for nearly three years until dissension in the besiegers' ranks broke the siege. And Drehkos shared with the never-to-be-known collector of these masterpieces the ability to read the various archaic languages. He lost no time in doing so, fully aware of his own deficiencies in the military arts.

So it was that soon Drehkos was the very brains of the defense efforts, the Vawnpolitan noblemen cheerfully deferring to a man who at least gave an appearance of knowing what he was about. And soon it was far more than appearance as Drehkos' quick mind absorbed and digested the contents of the tomes, and just as quickly fitted these new skills to the existing problems. Though he kept to a large extent the patient humility which had won him the love and respect of the men he had led on that terrible march, he had never before either merited or received the awe and adulation which his peers and retainers now afforded him, and he privately reveled in it. Therefore, he kept his finds a secret, kept the books locked in a campaign chest in his quarters and perused them during-the night hours, when most of the garrison lay sleeping.

But as more and more tasks devolved upon his shoulders and the days lengthened into weeks, he admitted to himself the utter impossibility of essaying so many different tasks and doing them all as well as they must be done. Consequently, he one day sought out Vahrohnos Myros, finding the down-fallen nobleman earning his daily ration as did all the other citizens and refugees-laboring upon a new salient; one of a pair being constructed at a very weak point in the defenses of stones and bricks taken from demolished structures.

Drehkos himself found it hard to recognize in this gaunt, bearded, sun-darkened figure in dusty rags the effete, fashionably pale-faced, spike-bearded, masterful man who had plotted and led the rebellion in Morguhn, and he was shocked to see that the remembered raven's-wing curls of the former Lord of Deskahti were almost uniformly dirty white. Straining to propel a granite boulder with a thick crowbar clenched in work-roughened hands, he seemed unaware of Drehkos' presence until the vahrohneeskos spoke.

"Myros, if you please, I would have words with you."

Slowly the hunched noble straightened his body, allowing the boulder to ease back. Then his dull black eyes briefly met Drehkos' gaze before he dispiritedly mumbled, "I have known, my lord vahrohneeskos, that sooner or later you would come to gloat. Were our positions reversed, I would have done so much sooner."

Drehkos shook his helmeted head. "Not so, Myros, not so. I am come to ask your help."

Myros' answer was a harsh cackle. "My help? You have stones to be moved at the Citadel? Or, perhaps, a privy to be cleaned?"

"You there, lordy boy!" came a hoarse shout from behind Drehkos, along with the snapping of a whip. "You ain't here to chat with passersby. Or mayhap you wants no rations this night"

Drehkos turned his head and the stocky overseer almost dropped his whip and crimsoned under his tan, stuttering. "Y-your p-pardon, my 1-lord. I-truly-I did not kn- know who 'twas."

Drehkos' warm smile came with his reassurance. "Never fear, good Klawdos, you were but doing your job, and I'd not fault you for such. But you'd best find another pair of hands for this task; this gentleman will be leaving with me."

In Drehkos' office-sitting room, Myros' cracked lips sipped delicately at his third brass cup of watered wine. "Let me see if I truly understand you, Drehkos. You want me, a man who foolishly did his damnedest to undermine your leadership, to help and advise in preparing this city to stand off what is coming? How could you trust me, eh? You know me well enough to be aware that my life has been but one betrayal after another."

Drehkos' powerful hands cracked a couple of nuts, a hel-metful of which had been the shy gift of a recently returned scouting party. Separating the shells, he pushed half the meats over to his guest, chuckling ruefully, "If we are to bring up the bones of the past, Myros, my deeds, too, will exude the stench of offal. I can take damn-all pride in most of my accomplishments. But today is not yesterday, Yawn is not Morguhn, and I, for one, mean to die more honorably than I lived.

"What you said of me in those wretched mountains, Myros, much of it was true."

Myros colored and dropped his gaze, his hands clenching until the cracked broken nails dug into his newly callused palms. In a low voice, he husked, "I ... I don't really know why, Drehkos. Don't know what came over me. But for some reason nothing was of more importance than discrediting you, supplanting you in those men's eyes. And, what's worse, I can't say that I'd not do it again, not knowing what prompted it."

"As I said, Myros, yesterday is not today." Drehkos cracked two more nuts. "And again I say, much of it was fact. Prior to that march, I was unskilled in aught save folly and debauchery. I am still painfully aware of my own shortcomings, especially as regards the arts of strategy, tactics and fortification."

"WhaaatT Myros set down his cup with a thump. "Why, Name of God, man, you've wrought no less than miracles along those lines. True, my station has been rather lowly of past weeks: nonetheless, I have heard and seen what you are doing, for all the city is a-babble with your exploits."

He shook his shaggy head in wonder. "Just take that pair of salients, for example. A man with one eye and half a brain could have noted the inherent weakness of that stretch of wall, and it virtually infiladed by those two little knolls, but the quickest thought to most minds would have been to either raise the level of the wall, lower the heights of the knolls, or both together. Drehkos, I have school training and much experience at fortifications and siegecraft but I would never have conceived of so brilliant an answer to that problem.

"You are heightening the wall, yes, but you are also making two trusty little strongpoints of those knolls. Strongpoints, furthermore, which can be safely supplied and reinforced from within the city, via the tunnels you had those refugee miners sink. And when the strongpoints fall-as fall they must-you'll be able to get any survivors out, then, still from within the city, and fire those oil-soaked supporting timbers so that tunnels and strongpoints will come crashing down into a heap of rubble useless to the enemy for aught save engine missiles!

"It is a stroke of sheer genius, Drehkos. But more than that, it indicates the workings of a mind well versed in the intricacies of defensive warfare. I had thought that I knew all about you, but obviously I was wrong. Now, I know that you never served the Confederation, so where did you acquire such superb knowledge of siegecraft?"

Drehkos smiled slightly. "From King Buhk Headsplitter of Pitzburk and Kahleefah Ahnbahr Nahseerah of Zahrtohgah."

Myros froze, sat stockstill, a glimmer of fear flitting in his eyes. Then he hastily signed himself, whispering, "Are . . . are you then one of them, an Undying? Such you must be if you are speaking truth, for King Buhk has been dead at least four hundred years, while the Nahseerah Dynasty was deposed more than two centuries ago!"

When Drehkos had brought out the books and Myros had examined mem, he again shook his head. "These are real treasures, Drehkos. I'm familiar, of course, with Gabos' work, and the High Lady's book is a standard text for cavalrymen. Greemnos* is much rarer, however. I have never seen a copy outside the Confederation Library in Kehnooryos Atheenahs. As for the other two, I was unaware that King Buhk had ever made record of his views and experiences. Do you think it authentic?"

Drehkos shrugged. "Who can say, Myros? But that parchment is very ancient, and whoever wrote it certainly knew his business. So, too, did the author of this one." He tapped a nail on the worm-eaten binding of the last book.

Myros picked it up and, opening it, once more peered helplessly at the flowing, esoteric characters in which it was penned. "As to that, Drehkos, 111 have to take your word, since such barbaric hentracks are beyond me. Where did you learn to decipher such?"

Smiling sadly, Drehkos answered, "Along with his fortune, I inherited my father-in-law's library, which was large and varied since he and his kindred do business in many lands. My dear Rehbehkah taught me how to read this script, which is called Ahrahbik, as she had learned from her sire along with the writing, though that last I could never get the hang of."

"A most wise and erudite folk," commented Myros. "I once heard the Holy Skiros attest that our Faith was in very, very ancient days, an outgrowth of theirs. Did your wife ever discourse on such matters?"

Drehkos sighed. "Alas, no. I think me she thought not well of her father's religion, since she so soon cleaved to Sun and Wind-or perhaps she did such for love of me. Her love, unlike mine, flowered quickly, and that blossom flourished grandly all her life, Wind bear her gently. You know, cousin, often of late I-." He broke off with a "Harumpf," straightened in his chair and stared across at his seedy guest.

"Well, what say you? Will you help me-us? After all, the young thoheeks wants your head and balls every bit as badly as he wants mine."

"There's that, true enough," nodded Myros. "And God knows, I'd much prefer a soldier's existence to that which I've recently led. But with these wondrous books and the knowledge you've gained from them, what need have you of me? Compared to such as authored this library, I am amateurish, indeed. Or is your overgenerous request but charity? Even humbled as I am now, I do not think what pride remains mine could bear to accept such a sop-not of you."

"Let's not fence," snapped Drehkos. 'Time is the one commodity we all lack. I have always detested you, Myros, and the decadent Ehleen perversions which you embody. But that is neither here nor there. I need your help; it is only incidental that, in order to make use of your help, I must help you to regain your previous station and grant you a degree of power. But be forewarned, Myros, none who were there- Vawnee or Morguhnee-have forgotten that night under the walls of Morguhn Hall or your craven conduct; with or without my order, you'll be closely watched and every word you utter will be borne back to me.

"I ask your help for but one reason. With your training, you stand to gain more, and more quickly, from these books than can I, and while you are supervising the fortification projects, I can better occupy myself with the multitude of other necessities now weighing upon me. I need an answer now, Myros. Will you say 'yea' or 'nay"?"

Chapter X

Midsummer was three weeks gone when the vanguard of the Confederation forces passed the cairns marking the Mor-guhn-Vawn border and trotted southwest along the ascending grade of the traderoad, the force strung out for miles behind them-heavily armed noble cavalry, kahtahfrahktoee, Freenghters, rank upon rank of the various types of infantry, sappers and engineers with their dismantled engines and wag-onloads of other equipment, "flesh tailors" or medical personnel and their wagons, then the seemingly endless baggage and supply train, followed by a strong mounted rearguard and flanked by scattered lancers, Freefighters and the Sanderz clansmen. The great cats had all been left in Morguhn, since their value in static warfare was practically nil and their dietary requirements-fresh meat, many pounds per day per cat-would have placed an added burden on an already harried supply service, but Milo had promised them all that when the time for the intaking of Vawnpolis came they would be speedily fetched.

That night's camp was pitched among the hills of Vawn, centered about what had been the hall of Vahrohnos Hehrbuht Pehree, now looted and empty, but still habitable. In the high-ceilinged dining chamber were gathered the ahrkeethoheeks, the ten thoheeksee, Milo, Aldora and the siegemaster of the Confederation, just down from Kehnoor-yos Atheenahs.

On the high table about which they stood or sat reposed a huge box of sand containing a representation of Vawnpolis and its immediate environs-the countryside reproduced from army maps and the city layout from the original plans, brought from the capital.

The siegemaster, one Ehdt Gahthwahlt, a Yorkburker veteran of twenty years of campaigning across the length and breadth of the Middle Kingdoms, ere he sold his sword to the High Lord and settled in the Confederation to instruct officers in the arts of siegecraft, had personally constructed the mockup. Scratching at his grizzled, balding head, he said self-deprecatingly, "Of course, noble gentlemen and lady, we were wise to draft but the most superficial plans and stratagems at this time, for, though I followed faithfully the rendering"-he used his pointer to indicate the ceramic miniatures of walls, gates and towers, and the minuscule citadel, from whose highest point jutted a tiny pennon bearing the Ehleen Cross, emblem of the rebels-"the place was founded more than fifty years ago, and cities have a way of changing."

Thoheeks Skaht raised his winecup. 'Til drink to that, lord strahteegos. What you have before us could be my very own city of Skahtpolis-as it looks in the old plans and a few paintings. But the city I rule be vastly different."

"Yes," nodded Milo. "All the cities of border duchies were laid out from almost the same plan, the one originated by the famous Strahteegos Gabos and refined by others after his time. Even today, border cities are laid out in the same basic manner, allowing for differences in terrain and foemen."

"At any rate, noble gentlemen and lady," Gahthwahlt went on, "we may assume that some astute commander, at some time or other, has made compensation for the two most glaring weaknesses in the original defenses." Again he made use of the pointer. "These two hillocks, either of which would provide perfect mounts for engines to bombard the city or to give deadly effective support to troops storming this low section of wall, have most certainly been either leveled or fortified; and this total absence of advance defenses for the four main gates has without doubt been remedied. Upon their return, our scouts will be able to enlighten us as regards these or other refinements.

"I am reliably informed that, since deep wells were drilled some score of years agone, the stream, which formerly entered under this stretch of the north wall and exited near to the south gate, has been diverted to another bed bypassing the city, and the entry arches have been plugged. Nonetheless, lacking better alternatives, we might consider saps at either place or at both, since it has been my experience that subsurface wall additions or reinforcements be often of inferior materials."

Bili and most of the other nobles sat rapt. It was not often that a country thoheeks was the recipient of instruction land warfare from one of the High Lord's picked professionals. But not Thoheeks Hwil of Blue Mountain. After a booming "Harumpf!" to gain attention, he said shortly, almost rudely, "Oh, aye, all this of saps and sieges and sorties is very •tfell if we mean to be here come shearing time. But Sun and Wind, man, we've got some thirty thousand men behind our banners, and I doubt me there's ten thousand fighting men in all of Vawn, unless"-he chuckled at such absurdity- "they've managed to pact with the Taishuhns or Frainyuhns or suchlike mountain tribes. So why can we not just ride over the boy-loving bastards, throw enough rock and shafts to keep them pinned down and just go over those damned wallsr

Gahthwahlt listened, scratching his scalp, his head cocked to one side. At Bailee's final question, he nodded. "Ah, noble sir, but you forget the mathematics of the siege. One man behind fortifications, if decently armed and supplied, is the equal of three and one-half men on the attack. However, since Vawnpolis is not on a par with a true burk, its wall originally having been reared to counter nothing more dangerous than a few hundred or thousand barbarian irregulars, I did the calculations for a frontal assault early on.

"My figures were these: maximum defensive force, not over twelve thousand effectives; maximum attacking force, twenty thousand infantry, dismounted nobles and Free-fighters, plus a mounted contingent of six thousand nobles and kahtahfrahktoee to enter the city as one or more gates be won; a bombardment of pitchballs and stone and fire-shafts on the night preceding the attack, with the heaviest concentration along the area of the diversionary assault; attacks scheduled for one hour after sunrise-which in my experience means that they should commence before noon, anyway-"

At this, Bili guffawed. His experience with planned assaults had been precisely the same.

"-with a great show of force and intent being massed within sight of the diversionary area, while, at the same time, a token force makes a deliberately weak effort at the primary area to feel out the terrain and defenses, and convince the defenders that this weak attack be the diversion and that the main assault will assuredly be delivered where our forces are clearly massing.

"With the retreat of the token force, the diversionary attack will be launched, covered up to the walls by all the massed engines. When this assault be well underway, most of the engines will either be moved or, in the cases of the heavier ones, will redirect their fire to provide cover for the main assault, which will be delivered at a point lying at a right angle to that of the diversion.

"Barring blunders or calamities, the wall facing the main force should be carried within an hour or less of the initial engagements and the cavalry should be in the streets soon thereafter. There will naturally be some street fighting but the wall towers and the Citadel should be the only additional obstacles to the completion of the intaking. However-."

Broadly beaming, the Dailee slapped both big hands on the tabletop and arose. "Now that, Sir Ehdt, is the kind of plan you should have mentioned at the start! My lord Milo, my lady Aldora, gentlemen, such a venture has Bailee's endorsement. How say the rest of you?"

Bili shook his shaven poll. "With all due respect, Thoheeks Hwil, frontal assaults, even one so expertly planned as Sir Ehdt's, are usually quite costly. I think, ere we move to adopt it, we should hear the projected butchers' bill."

The siegemaster smiled his thanks to the youngest thoheeks, then continued soberly. "Thoheeks Bili be correct, lady and gentlemen. My calculations indicate that a minimum of ten thousand casualties will be sustained, should we be so rash as to mount the aforementioned attack. This figure includes both killed and wounded, and the largest percentage will be of course amongst the dismounted nobles who lead the two wall assaults-possibly as high a figure as five out of every six."

"And what duchy," put in Milo, "can afford to lose so large a proportion of its nobility?"

"Certainly not mine," nodded the Dailee grimly. "I withdraw my endorsement. And when next I open my impetuous mouth, I give all here leave to stuff a jackboot in it"

The ahrkeethoheeks laughed. "I doubt me there is enough jackboots in all the Confederation to stop that void, Hwilee! But let us hear Sir Ehdt's other schemes, eh?"

The siegemaster flexed his pointer, rocking back and forth on heels and toes. "The least expensive method, in all save time, is simply to invest the objective and starve out the enemy; but it might well be shearing time or later ere we could do such.

"Another method would depend principally on the rashness and gullibility of their leaders, as well as the acting abilities of our own troops. Under the proper circumstances, we could trick them into one or more sallies in force, thus wearing down their garrison. But I remember Major Vahrohnos Myros as a most cautious man, and I scarce think me he'd succumb to such a temptation."

Milo remarked, "Oh, I don't know, Ehdt-he showed some ruinous errors of judgment hi the course of that abortive siege on Morguhn Hall. I said, in the beginning and all along, that I think the man is slowly losing his mind. Such is the principal weakness of geniuses-and I don't think anyone who knew him well, in his short prime, can deny that he was once a military genius."

"But," asked Bili, "how do we know that he is even directing the defense? After all, according to the tale those captured priests tell, he deserted his ragtag army on the night of the sortie, fled back to Morguhnpolis with his bodyguard and that wretched sub-kooreeos. What men would intrust their lives a second time to such a craven?"

Aldora's voice was soft, but grave. "Oh, no, Bili, Myros is no coward; he can be brave past the point of recklessness. But he is ... well, erratic. And he seems to take a perverse pleasure in turning, for no discernible reason, on every ally, of sooner or later betraying every trust. But never, ever, make the mistake of underestimating the bastard's personal courage, my love, or his abilities, for he is an astute strategist and a crafty tactician."

"And," Milo added, "of the few rebellious nobles in Vawn-polis, he has the only trained and experienced military mind. From the reports we received from our agents within Vawn-polis ere the city was sealed, it was certain that the director of the defense was no tyro at siegecraft. And I find it impossible to believe that the Morguhn nobleman, Vahrohneeshos Drehkos Daiviz, who was named as leader in all those reports, could truly have been responsible for such brilliant innovations. But this same Drehkos-"

"Your pardon, my lord Milo," put in Thoheeks Djak Tahmzuhn, youngest after Bili of the high nobles, "but I recall hearing my late sire speak right often of a Daiviz of Morguhn with whom he soldiered in the Middle Kingdoms some twoscore years agone. If this be him-"

"But it is not the same man, cousin," Bili answered him. "That man was his elder brother, Hari, the present Komees Daiviz of Morguhn, hereditary Lord of Horse County of my duchy. Drehkos, the rebel, has never been out of the Confederation, seldom even been beyond the borders of the archduchy, and always avoided military experience like the plague. So, as the High Lord said, it were virtually impossible to credit so provincial and untrained a man with all that has been laid at his doorstep."

"On the other hand," Milo took up, "it is highly likely that so devious a brain as Myros' would strike upon the stratagem, since his precipitate flight from Morguhn Hall no doubt cost him the trust and loyalty of the other rebels, of using Drehkos Daiviz-whom we now know to have long been his satellite and his spy among the loyal Kindred of Morguhn- as his public face, the mouth through which his orders come. Therefore we all must proceed, must lay our plans, on the assumption that the commander opposing us is as one of us, that he well knows the strengths and weaknesses of Confederation forces and will conduct his own resources accordingly. However, as he knows us, we also know him, know of his frequently overcautious nature, of his occasional indeci-siveness, of his penchant for turnabouts and betrayals, of his vanity and arrogance. Armed with such knowledge, we should be able to almost read the man's actions long ere they're performed and, with the services of a master strategist of the water of Sir Ehdt, as well as two such able tacticians as High Lady Aldora and Thoheeks Bili, when once we're before those walls we should quickly gain the upper hand. This rebellion should be scotched by harvest time."

In the camp of the Morguhn Freefighters, their numbers swelled both by the additions of the contingents of the Morguhn and Daiviz petty nobles and by Bili's fresh recruitments, nearly two hundred warriors lazed about their cookfires, bragging, lying, swapping lewd tales, discussing women and weapons and horses and women and past battles and former patrons and women, dicing and doing necessary maintenance on their gear. Within a torchlit area, ten pairs of men clad in weighted brigandines and full-face helms stamped and shouted and swung blunted swords, under the watchful eyes of a scar-faced weapon master, whose hoarse bellows of instruction or reprimand rang even above the din of the mock combats. In a nearby area, more pairs practiced spearwork, while others took turns casting darts or dirks or light axes at man-sized logs or bundles of straw and a group of archers honed their skills on more difficult and tricky targets. As the men tired and went back to quaff watered wine at the firesides, their places and equipment were readily taken by onlookers. For these were all professionals, men whose lives and livings depended upon consummate ability to utilize a variety of weapons, and they would seldom pass up an opportunity to polish their dexterity.

So no one in camp thought it odd that Geros should spend the most of every evening absorbing the rudiments of sword-play and spearfence, gaining increasing accuracy with cast weapons, learning unarmed rough-and-tumble and even borrowing a hornbow on occasion. The shy, timid valet and musician who, in an agony of terror, had accidentally speared two rebels on a darkened Horse County road while fleeing a battle had become in the few short months since a capable, self-assured fighter, who could deliver hard, true blows. Though polite and soft-spoken as ever, there was that in his eyes and bearing which discouraged patronization or the taking of undue liberties even on the part of those newer men who had not yet heard of his deeds and courage. Captain of Freefighters Raikuh, recognizing the potential value of Geros' clear tenor voice in transmitting orders amid the din of battle, had named him a sergeant, a move approved by all his comrades.

And Sergeant Geros could not recall ever having been so happy as he now was, bathed in the respect of both his peers and his superiors, secure in the knowledge that while his fears would always be with him he could now control them, which is all that true bravery really is.

A few hundred yards away, Geros' former employer, Vahrohneeskos Ahndros, sat at wine in the tent of Komees Djeen Morguhn, retired strahteegoi of the Confederation Army. Wounded in the ambush and battle at Forest Bridge-which midnight affray most men now considered to have been the initial engagement of the rebellion-he had lain invalided and then recuperating at Morguhn Hall until recently and had just ridden into camp with his contingent.

Standing or squatting within the same tent were most of the noblemen and Freefighter officers of the duchy, and Geros was the present topic of their conversation.

The saturnine young Ahndros shook his head, his dark hair cwaying across his neck and shoulders. "I simply cannot credit it, Uncle Djeen. Personable, affable and obedient Geros had been since first I took him in, and his former employer's letter attested the same. But he's only the son of up. per servants and has never had even minimal war training. I sent him back that night because I knew he could not fight and I feared for his safety. And besides, he's a gentle person and shy almost to the point of timorousness."

Captain Pawl Raikuh guffawed freely, his military rank combined with his noble birth giving him a near equality with . these relatives of Duke Bili, his employer, while the dangers and battles he had shared with most of them had forged bonds of friendship. 'Timorous, my lord baronet? Gentle? We cannot be thinking or speaking of the same man. Why not two hours gone, Sergeant Geros was tongue-lashing a Lainzburker near twice his size for having rust specks on his sword and dirk! And the language he was using would've burned the ears of a muleskinner! Hardly my interpretation of gentle and shy, my lord."

"Again I say, this cannot be my Geros, Uncle Djeen. And you say he speared two rebels that night? It must have been pure luck then, for I doubt he knew one end of that wolf-spear from the other."

"Oh, aye," grunted the tall, spare, sixtyish nobleman. "Once could have been chance, but when we routed the buggers, your shy Geros took the lead, riding alone and at a full gallop along that damned dark, dangerous road, and sabered every damned rebel he could catch. Scythed them from out their saddles like ripe grain, he did. And he'd no doubt have chased them clear back to whatever rock they crawled from under, had he not lost his seat when his mount took a big fallen treetrunk. But soon as he'd his wind and senses back, he was in the saddle and on the move again. Oh, he's a gentle and retiring manner, sure enough, Ahndee, which fooled even me, in the beginning, but young Geros is a stout and trusty fighter for all his meekness. And yet you didn't know? And here I was complimenting myself on how well I'd trained you, Ahndee."

The road to Vawnpolis wound a serpentine track among the hilly grasslands of Vawn, and in the dry heat of late afternoon the dust haze raised by hooves and wheels and marching feet overlaid every twist and turn of that road from column head to the eastern horizon. It had been a long day's march, commencing at first light, and men and beasts alike were bone-weary. Horses' heads drooped and hooves plodded, while their riders slouched, canting weapons to the least tiring angle, many riding with their helms off so their streaming faces might benefit from the hint of cool breeze blowing off the wooded slopes of the western mountains.

Some time earlier, the left flankers had sent word of locating a suitable site for the night's camp, and now the vanguards, most of the advance flankers and a party of sappers were up ahead, engaged in marking out the cantonment areas of the various units, locating sources of water and preparing for the thousand and one other details which officers and men must perform ere they had earned a few hours' sleep, wrapped in their scratchy blankets on the hard, stony ground.

Sergeant Geros Lahvoheetos, riding just behind Captain Raikuh and the Freefighter who bore the Red Eagle Banner of the House of Morguhn, felt as though his aching body was being slowly broiled on a spit, but as the captain retained his helm and kept his armor tight-buckled, so too did Geros, and, despite their profane pleas and protests, he saw to it that his two files of troopers did* likewise.

Farther back in the Clan Morguhn troop, Lieutenant of Freefighters Krandahl observed the actions of the intense new noncom, deriving no little merriment from the exchanges betwixt Geros and his squad. That one, he chuckled to himself, will be a captain someday, Sword willing!

Between the first and second Freefighter troops led by Bili and two other thoheeksee was a knot of some score and a half of noblemen, some chatting or monotonously cursing, a few smoking their pipes, most rolling pebbles in dry mouths, their shirts and small clothes one soggy mass under their thick, leathern gambesons and three-quarter suits of Pitzburk.

For the umpteenth time, Senior Lieutenant of Freefighters Bohreegabd Hohguhn, leading, under the snarling Blackfoot of the House of Daiviz of Morguhn, the second troop of the Morguhn nobles' private cavalry, thanked Sword that he had courteously refused the suit of plate that old Komees Hari would have gifted him witk at the completion of that business in Horse County. Far better a bit of gold in my belt, he thought, than Miz Hohguhn's lil' boy a-meltin' to death in a damn Pitzburk Steamer, thank y' kindly.

As the van of the column strung out the length of a relatively straight stretch of road, the brush-drowned slope to either side erupted a deadly sleet of arrows and darts. And while men shouted and died or fought to control wounded, frenzied horses, a yelling double rank of armored horsemen, presenting lances and spears or waving swords and axes, careered down the steep grades to strike both flanks in a ringing flurry of steel and death.

It was obvious that the noblemen were the principal targets of the shrewdly effected ambush, for most of the leading troop had been allowed to pass between the hillsides unscathed and now were milling on the narrow roadway in an attempt to wheel about. Nor was the Freefighters' broil improved when the enemy archers, who now dared not loose at the center for fear of striking down their own, commenced to range the Red Eagle Troop. The seemingly sentient shafts sought out every bared head, sunk into vitals ill protected by loosened jazerans, pricked horses into a rearing, bucking, screaming chaos. Then the rain of feathered agonies slackened as the bowmen turned their weapons toward the second troop, now rounding the hill at the gallop, steel out, the rampant Golden Blackfoot Banner snapping above the heads of the first files.

With no time to uncase his famous axe, Bili had drawn his broadsword and snapped down his visor in one practiced movement, dropping his riding reins over the knob atop his saddle's flaring pommel. His stallion, Mahvros, screamed with the joy of challenge and his fine head darted snake-quick to sink big yellow teeth into the neck of the first Vawn steed to come within range. The bitten horse had had no war training and, sidling, bucked its rider off just in time for the man to be ridden down by the second line of attackers.

Roaring from force of long habit, "Up! Up Harzburk!" and, belatedly, "Morguhn! A Morguhn!" Bili rose to stand in his stirrups, gripping the long hilt of his sword in both hands so that its heavy blade cut the head from a lance and then removed the head of its wielder in one figure-eight stroke. For a brief moment he wondered how so large a force had remained undiscovered by both van and flank guards, then his every thought was of dealing and avoiding death and all the world for him became the familiar tumult and kaleidoscope of battle-the earsplitting clash of steel on steel, shock of blows struck and received, blinking cascades of stinging sweat from eyes, trading hacks and parries with briefly appearing and quickly disappearing opponents, screams and shrieks and shouted war cries and the stink of spilled blood combining with those of horse and man sweat, of instinctively shifting his weight to help Mahvros retain his balance on the body-littered road.

Sergeant Geros and Captain Raikuh, closely followed by the standard-bearer and Geros' squad-not a man of whom was even wounded, thanks to their fastened jazerans and tight-buckled helms-had forced a path to the tail of the chaotic jumble their troop had become, collecting more troopers along the way. Pawl Raikuh, seasoned veteran that he was, took the time to form his survivors up into road-spanning files of six behind him, with Krahndahl, Geros and the big Lainzburker standard-bearer before. Then waving his sword and shouting "Morguhn! Up Morguhn! he led a crashing charge into the melee broiling ahead.

Twenty yards out, the standard-bearer uttered a single sharp cry and reeled back against his cantle, the thick shaft of a war dart wobbling out of an eyesocket. Both Geros and Krahndahl snatched at the dipping banner, but it was Geros' hand which closed on the ashwood shaft and jerked H free of the dead man's grasp. And then they were upon the enemy, and Geros could never after recall more than bits and pieces of that gory mosaic. But when someone commenced to furiously shake his left arm and pound a mailed fist on his jazeran, he was shocked to see that his. carefully honed sword-edge was now hacked and dulled and running fresh blood, which had splashed his entire right side and even his horse housing.

". . . and rally!" That voice, Captain Raikuh's it was, shouting in his ear. "Damn you, man, raise the banner! Raise the fornicating thing and shout, 'Up Morguhn!' and 'Rally to the Red Eagle!' Do it, you sonofabitch or I'll put steel in you!"

Shaking his ringing head, Geros dropped his gory sword to dangle by the knot and, gripping the shaft in both hands, stuck it up above his head, his high tenor piercing through the din.

"Up Morguhn! Up Morguhn! Thoheeks Bill! Rally! Rally to the Red Eagle! Up Morghun!"

A sword smashed against his jazeran, but he continued to wobble the heavy banner and shout, the corner of his eye catching the flash of Raikuh's steel as the captain cut down the reckless Vawnee. And, at first in slow dribbles, then in an increasing, steel-sheathed flood, the scattered noblemen and Freefighters gathered around the upraised Red Eagle Banner, an ever-widening circle whose edges hacked and slashed at the surrounding Vawnee. Beside him, he saw Thoheeks Bili throw down a broken sword and hurriedly uncase his great axe.

"Raikuh, Krahndahl!" he shouted. "Guard the standard. We're going to run those bastards back to their kennels!"

But when they came to a rough, broken expanse of gullies and dry creekbeds, Bili wisely* halted the pursuit, and the mixed band picked a wary, weary course back to the littered blood-muddy road.

Bili paced his exhausted stallion alongside Geros' limping chestnut mare and, to the sergeant's vast surprise and utter embarrassment, placed a steel-cased arm across his bowed shoulders and gave a powerful hug. Teeth shining whitely against the sun-darkened face, now made even darker by the sweaty, dusty mud thickly coating it, he growled hoarsely, "That's a Wind-given gift, trooper, that voice of yours. Why there were no less than two of the bastards beating Ehleen dance steps on my helm, and still I heard your rally cry! You've saved this day, man. But wait. . . ."

Raising his visor for better visibility, he stared at Geros* filthy face, then his grin widened. "I know you, man! You be no Freefighter. You're Vahrohneeskos Ahndee's man, his valet, Geros. But I thought me I'd sent you to ... where was it, eh?"