Similar conversations were taking place throughout the camp. He paused to sample them, covertly. The majority of his troops supported him, he found. Certainly there were some malcontents, but that couldn't be avoided. Dardas took note of only the most vitriolic ones. He could have them dealt with later, if he chose.

Berkant had probably already delivered his report about the scouts' positions around Trael. Dardas should get back to his tent soon.

But he had one more task.

Still hidden in his cloak, he skulked into an area of the camp where a mixed unit of wizards had their tents. It was not the same company to which Raven was attached.

Here Dardas felt a palpable tension among the encamped mages. It was the same tightly wound stress that was evident in most of the army's wizards. The general hostility between magicians and the regular troops couldn't entirely account for the anxiety and strain.

That Academy in Felk, whatever it was, was apparently turning out accomplished wizards. But it was also producing personnel who felt persecuted and paranoid.

Dardas ducked low now, moving fast. Magic was an incredible tool, and these practitioners probably deserved more respect than they got. But they were also cooperating with Matokin in that conspiracy of silence that kept any useful knowledge of magic from Dardas.

He was glad once again that Weisel kept his body fit. Weisel's consciousness hadn't made a peep in some while now, and Dardas didn't miss those mental conversations with his host.

He rolled silently on the ground, drawing a knife and slicing cleanly through the side of a small tent. He rolled right on through the rent, onto the individual lying alone inside.

The Far Movement mage tried to make a startled squawk, but Dardas jammed a hand over his mouth. He also pinned the wizard's body with his own, and touched the very sharp point of his knife to the tip of the mage's nose.

Dardas had seen the mages open portals. He knew— without understanding the meaning of the actions—that complex chants and gyrations were involved in Far Movement magic, much like that rejuvenation spell that Kumbat had performed.

This mage wasn't going to get the chance to work his magic and escape this tent. After a few moments he stopped struggling beneath Dardas. Now he began to tremble in fear.

Dardas grinned in the tent's darkness.

"Now," he whispered, "you're going to answer some questions, earnestly and wholeheartedly."

BERKANT WAS CLUTCHING a shred of fabric in one hand. It looked like it had come from a

piece of clothing. Dardas had noticed this before, whenever the mage was communicating directly with Matokin.

They were in Dardas's tent. Berkant had brought maps that indicated the locations of the scout parties. Dardas would make a few adjustments, place them just so around the city-state of Trael.

At the moment, he was explaining himself to Lord Matokin. The indignity of reporting to a "superior" chafed him.

"I am making preparations to use the portals," Dardas said. 'That's why I've halted the army."

Berkant's face was vacant. His eyes stared forward at nothing. But he was still hearing Dardas's words and relaying them magically north to distant Felk. In turn, Matokin was able to send his own messages here. It was, admittedly, an amazing feat.

Someday maybe Dardas would educate himself about the methods of Far Speak, just as he now knew much more about Far Movement magic than he had before.

"Why have you waited until you are so close to Trael to do so?" Berkant asked, in a voice that barely sounded like his own. "It seems to me that the greater the distance you cross, the more effective the portals are for a surprise attack. The people of Trael no doubt know you intend to invade there by now."

"But what defenses can they raise?" Dardas countered. "My scouts tell me it is a typical Isthmus city-state. Their army is no match for... yours."

He had nearly said "mine." He silently chided himself.

"That does not answer my question, General," Berkant/Matokin said. "Why have you waited?"

Dardas lowered his eyes. It took a great effort to make himself look humble, but he didn't know if Matokin could see through Berkant's eyes as well as hear with his ears.

"I..." he said hesitantly. "I... am not comfortable going through those portals."

"What?" The Far Speak mage conveyed Matokin's surprise.

Dardas shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "I don't entirely trust that particular magic, Lord Matokin. I must admit that stepping into one of those portals, I don't know if I'll step out the other side again."

There was silence. Berkant's eyes stared dully.

Then he said, "General Weisel, that is ridiculous. Whatever fears you have, you must overcome them. I am disappointed that you have allowed this bias to affect your battle strategies in any way. I have provided you with the best mages possible to aid you in this war. You will make use of them. Is that clear?"

Contritely, Dardas said, "Yes, Lord."

A few moments later the communication ended. Dardas watched Berkant recover himself, blinking as if he were waking from a dream. The mage immediately stuffed the shred of cloth back into his robe.

"Are you all right?" Dardas asked.

"Yes, General Weisel. I—"

"You're dismissed."

Berkant exited the pavilion. Dardas didn't know if the Far Speak mage could overhear the messages he relayed, but it was shameful the way Dardas had had to abase himself before Matokin ... even if it was all a ruse.

Dardas told his aide to fetch Raven to his tent. He was informed that the special foodstuffs had arrived via Far Movement from Windal and were being distributed among the troops. He acknowledged this with a nod.

When Raven entered, Dardas's gaze lingered candidly over her. It really was a vast improvement. Groomed and decently clothed, she was decidedly attractive. Raven didn't shy from his stare, either.

"You called for me, General?" Her voice was exaggeratedly husky.

He was careful not to laugh. Let her enjoy her new-found sensuality. It was all part of the plan to attach her more firmly to him. He needed allies among his army's mages. He thought it best to start with her.

He wondered, briefly, if she would struggle under him like that Far Movement mage had. Dardas liked his bed partners to put up a bit of a fight.

Of course, that mage hadn't been a lover. Dardas had questioned the wizard, who was very forthcoming with that knife against his nose. Then, when Dardas had what he wanted, he had flicked the sharp tip of the blade across the mage's upper right arm, just a tiny cut. The poison on the blade acted fast. Dardas escaped the tent the way he'd come in, and flitted invisibly away through the falling night.

The mage, whenever he was discovered, would appear to have died from a seizure of some sort.

"Sir?" Raven was still waiting, looking a little nervous now.

Dardas favored her with a smile. "Now, don't frown, girl. I've told you how pretty your smile is. There, that's it."

She didn't blush this time, but proudly displayed her smile, even instinctively thrusting out her breasts for added effect.

"Raven," he said, quietly now, "I have need of you."

Her face went still, expectantly.

He took a step toward her, laying his hands on her shoulders and squeezing slightly. He stooped so that he could peer directly into her eyes.

"How can I serve you, General?" she asked.

"I know the secret of Far Movement," he said. "I know which world it is the portals lead into. I intend to use those portals in a way your wizards haven't yet thought of."

Raven was listening very solemnly and intently.

"And I want you to help me."