it.
Wasn't she?
Who else could the witch be, then?
His thoughts drifted back to childhood years, to silly, blind years of games and little pleasures, when the most difficult moral dilemmas had been the decision whether or not to tell the truth when a question about Anyeck's conduct arose... . There had been a noncom in the garrison who had informed their father of one of her misdeeds. Gathrid had forgotten the exact circumstances. He did recall that the soldier had, immediately afterward, been stricken dumb. No one had been able to explain. Then there had been the time ...
"Here they come," Rogala whispered.
Gathrid chivied himself out of the wilderness of memory, peered round the woodpile. Men with drawn swords were stealing toward their tent. He took the Sword's grip... .
Rogala's touch stayed him. "Let them be disappointed. Let's see who they run to."
"Good thinking."
Finding no prey, the assassins withdrew. They did not panic, nor did they forget to cover their backtrail.
The army had begun stirring. It was to move out at dawn. Tracking the assassins proved difficult.
A series of interlocuters made tracing the heart of responsibility almost impossible.
"Levels," Rogala muttered. "He's no fool."
Between them they managed to maintain contact. The trail ended at the pavilion belonging to Gerdes Mulenex.
"Tit for tat," Rogala promised solemnly. "But we have to wait our turn. We've got to move with the army."
"Thought we were letting them fight their own battles."
"We are. But I want to be there to watch."
The camp crawled like an anthill as the noncoms turned their men out early.
Gathrid's homeland had changed. The smoke had cleared. The birds sang across the countryside, celebrating the gods knew what. The few Ventimiglians he and Rogala saw were hurrying toward Katich. The Mindak was gathering his forces outside the capital's walls. "He knows the Alliance is moving," Rogala averred.
He and Gathrid did not move with the army itself, but parallel to it, within a few hours' ride.
They avoided Ventimiglians, Alliance patrols, and all but one group of refugees. Those they quizzed. They learned that Ahlert had bragged he would reduce Katich and destroy the Alliance army the same day.
"That much arrogance might become its own reward," Rogala observed as they rode off to well-wishes from folk with whom Gathrid had shared his meager supplies. "A man makes brags, he'd better deliver. A couple failures and some ambitious general will take a shot at snatching his job."
"He could have the power and know it."
"Of course he could. He obviously thinks he does. But a wise man does his deed, then he brags.
There's less chance of looking a fool that way. What's kept him out of Katich so long? A quick victory there might have awed the Alliance into backing down again."
Gathrid returned to an argument they had been pursuing since he had revealed his suspicions about Anyeck. "Theis, I meant it about stopping my sister. It's something I have to do. I don't care if it is free help for the Alliance."
He kept bouncing back and forth between that and his question about what profit he could expect for his misery as Swordbearer. Rogala answered curtly when he would talk at all. At that moment he entered his sour and silent phase again.
"All right. All right. A man does what he has to. Do what you want. You won't listen to me, and I'm getting sick of listening to you."
Gathrid grinned. The dwarf's scolding reminded him of his mother's... . The memory left a bitter taste. They had been close, he and she.
Vengeance was necessary.
Alliance patrols became more numerous. They saw more bands of Ventimiglians. Occasionally they came across the wrack of skirmishes, then a field where a small, fierce battle had been lost by Malmbergetan infantry.
"One of the Toal was here," Gathrid said. A trail of corpses marked its path through the action.
"No ordinary blade would have cut that deep."
His Toal-shadow, lurking at the edge of
Wasn't she?
Who else could the witch be, then?
His thoughts drifted back to childhood years, to silly, blind years of games and little pleasures, when the most difficult moral dilemmas had been the decision whether or not to tell the truth when a question about Anyeck's conduct arose... . There had been a noncom in the garrison who had informed their father of one of her misdeeds. Gathrid had forgotten the exact circumstances. He did recall that the soldier had, immediately afterward, been stricken dumb. No one had been able to explain. Then there had been the time ...
"Here they come," Rogala whispered.
Gathrid chivied himself out of the wilderness of memory, peered round the woodpile. Men with drawn swords were stealing toward their tent. He took the Sword's grip... .
Rogala's touch stayed him. "Let them be disappointed. Let's see who they run to."
"Good thinking."
Finding no prey, the assassins withdrew. They did not panic, nor did they forget to cover their backtrail.
The army had begun stirring. It was to move out at dawn. Tracking the assassins proved difficult.
A series of interlocuters made tracing the heart of responsibility almost impossible.
"Levels," Rogala muttered. "He's no fool."
Between them they managed to maintain contact. The trail ended at the pavilion belonging to Gerdes Mulenex.
"Tit for tat," Rogala promised solemnly. "But we have to wait our turn. We've got to move with the army."
"Thought we were letting them fight their own battles."
"We are. But I want to be there to watch."
The camp crawled like an anthill as the noncoms turned their men out early.
Gathrid's homeland had changed. The smoke had cleared. The birds sang across the countryside, celebrating the gods knew what. The few Ventimiglians he and Rogala saw were hurrying toward Katich. The Mindak was gathering his forces outside the capital's walls. "He knows the Alliance is moving," Rogala averred.
He and Gathrid did not move with the army itself, but parallel to it, within a few hours' ride.
They avoided Ventimiglians, Alliance patrols, and all but one group of refugees. Those they quizzed. They learned that Ahlert had bragged he would reduce Katich and destroy the Alliance army the same day.
"That much arrogance might become its own reward," Rogala observed as they rode off to well-wishes from folk with whom Gathrid had shared his meager supplies. "A man makes brags, he'd better deliver. A couple failures and some ambitious general will take a shot at snatching his job."
"He could have the power and know it."
"Of course he could. He obviously thinks he does. But a wise man does his deed, then he brags.
There's less chance of looking a fool that way. What's kept him out of Katich so long? A quick victory there might have awed the Alliance into backing down again."
Gathrid returned to an argument they had been pursuing since he had revealed his suspicions about Anyeck. "Theis, I meant it about stopping my sister. It's something I have to do. I don't care if it is free help for the Alliance."
He kept bouncing back and forth between that and his question about what profit he could expect for his misery as Swordbearer. Rogala answered curtly when he would talk at all. At that moment he entered his sour and silent phase again.
"All right. All right. A man does what he has to. Do what you want. You won't listen to me, and I'm getting sick of listening to you."
Gathrid grinned. The dwarf's scolding reminded him of his mother's... . The memory left a bitter taste. They had been close, he and she.
Vengeance was necessary.
Alliance patrols became more numerous. They saw more bands of Ventimiglians. Occasionally they came across the wrack of skirmishes, then a field where a small, fierce battle had been lost by Malmbergetan infantry.
"One of the Toal was here," Gathrid said. A trail of corpses marked its path through the action.
"No ordinary blade would have cut that deep."
His Toal-shadow, lurking at the edge of
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