Seregil regarded his hands with a humorless, lopsided grin. "Well, that's one less thing for us to worry about."

At that moment, less than two miles to the north, Beka Cavish shivered suddenly when a sharp tingle passed through her as she tethered her horse with the others.

"You all right, Lieutenant?" asked Rhylin, who'd been out scouting the Plenimaran camp with her.

"Guess a snake must've crawled across my shadow." The strange sensation passed as quickly as it had come, except for a slight tingling in her gloved hands. Flexing them, she walked over to where Braknil and the others sat waiting in the shadow of a gully.

They had preparations to make.

An hour before noon a tiny, curved paring disappeared from the lower edge of the sun.

"There it goes," Seregil whispered as he and Micum lay in a brush thicket overlooking the temple.

The dry pool near the head of the cove had been cleared of all debris and painted with white symbols neither he nor Micum had ever seen before.

More symbols had been outlined between each of the fourteen posts set into the rock and a large square had been painted to contain the entire site.

The sacrificial victims huddled under close guard on the rocks above the pool. Slightly apart from these, Thero stood between two of Tildus' men.

He was dressed in wizard's robes, but below its full sleeves Seregil caught a glimpse of metal on Thero's wrists.

"Well, he's alive but they've got him under control again."

"Too bad," muttered Micum. "My guess is we could use his help before this is over."

Twenty soldiers stood formed up in ranks before the captives, unlit torches piled at their feet.

A brazier stood nearby, filling the air with fragrant smoke.

Mardus sat on the white marker stone, studying a parchment. He was dressed in ceremonial splendor for the occasion; beneath his sweeping black cloak, his burnished cuirass and gorget glinted with gold chasing.

As Seregil and Micum watched, the dyrmagnos stepped from the trees and the failing sunlight glinted from the jewel work on her veil and gown.

"Don't they just make a handsome pair." Micum glanced up at the sun again. "Nysander said the eclipse would take about an hour. Looks like you were right about it matching the tide. It's already as high as it was yesterday and still coming in."

"Come on then, time to get started."

Irtuk Beshar laid a wizened hand on Mardus' sleeve. "The conjunction has begun, my lord."

Mardus glanced up from the document he'd been studying. "Ah, yes. Tildus!"

"Yes, my lord?" Never far from his master, the bearded captain stepped forward.

"Pass the word, Tildus; the eclipse has begun. Remind the men to avoid looking at it, particularly once it's complete."

Tildus snapped a quick salute and strode off.

The tide was climbing steadily toward the pool and with it came a warm breeze smelling of rock weed and salt.

Soon enough it would smell of blood, Mardus thought with satisfaction.

When all his men were in position, he strode down into the temple, his black war cloak sweeping out behind him. The waves were surging close to the dry basin now, and lines of foam ran ahead up the two narrow fissures that contained the carvings. He paced a slow circuit around the declivity, then moved to stand on the landward side of it and raised a hand. Trumpeters at the head of the ledges blew a blaring fanfare.

Irtuk Beshar stepped from the trees above at the head of a small procession. First came silent Harid Yordun bearing the carved chest containing the elements of the Helm. Behind him, soldiers led four unblemished white heifers with the symbol of Dalna painted on their brows and four young black bulls bearing the sign of Sakor. These were followed by large wicker cages containing four gulls and four large brown owls, symbolic of Astellus and Illior.

Harid placed the chest reverently at the landward edge of the dry pool and the animals were divided, one of each sort at the four corners of the great square.

Irtuk Beshar moved slowly from one group to another, laying hands on the beasts. They sank dead beneath her touch and were immediately gutted and piled in reeking heaps.

Lifting her arms to the sky, she threw back her head and shouted in the ancient necromantic tongue,

"Agrosh marg venv Kui gri bara kon Seriami. Y'ka Vatharnaprak'ot!"

Tongues of shimmering, unnatural fire flared up from the piles of carrion. The assembled soldiers cheered at the sight of it.

The sun was a thin, inverted crescent now against the leaden purple sky. Beneath it, the long tail of the comet hung like an evil, slitted eye. Shadows blurred and faded in the uncertain light, lending a strange flatness to the landscape. Birds that had been singing noisily since dawn gradually faltered to silence except for the occasional puzzled hooting of doves and the rasping croak of a lone raven.

Water surged up the fissures and spilled into the rock basin. Mardus signaled to the guards standing over the prisoners. Ten frightened men were dragged forward, stripped, and tied to the posts. With Irtuk Beshar chanting tonelessly behind him, Mardus drew his dagger and slit their throats in quick succession. They died quickly, these first ones, their blood flowing down to stain the swirling waters of the salt pool.

As the last sliver of sun narrowed to an edge, a raucous clatter suddenly came from all sides.

An immense flock of ravens appeared out of the surrounding gloom, croaking and sawing in a cloud of black wings as they settled on tree and ledge and post top. At the same moment, crabs of every size and color came boiling up out of the water. Sidling up the rocks, they swarmed over the piles of dead animals and the corpses, feeding greedily.

Cries of terror burst out among the remaining prisoners. Tildus barked orders and the torchbearers lit their brands at the brazier. The whole ghastly scene leapt into sharper relief.

No one, not even the dyrmagnos, noticed when the three guards stationed on the northern promontory were jerked back out of sight. Any sound they may have made was lost in the general outcry below.

Carrion eaters. Eaters of the dead, thought Seregil as he, Alec, and Micum shoved the men they'd just killed into the undergrowth behind them. The black stripes across their faces gave them all a deadly, feral look as they belly-crawled back to the edge of the overlook where Nysander was keeping watch.

The moon overtook the last curve of the sun and a hazy corona burst out around it. The black disk hung framed in light, like a baleful, glaring eye.

The burning arc of the plague star, visible now in the darkened sky, glowed just below it.

With every surge of the surf, water foamed into the stone hollow at Irtuk Beshar's feet.

The dead men were cut from the posts and thrown onto the offal pile. Ten women took their places and Mardus' knife flashed again, severing their cries.

Seregil winced. It was agonizing to watch and not act. Beside him, Alec clenched his hands around his bow, eyes wide with horror.

"How can we just lay here and watch them die?" he hissed.

Nysander was on Alec's other side and Seregil saw him close a hand over Alec's. "Think of how many will die if we fail," the wizard reminded him. "Be strong, my boy. Let nothing distract you."

Raising her hands toward the sky, Irtuk Beshar began to chant again, her cracked, dry voice loud above the rush of the sea. More victims were dragged forward to the edge of the pool and beheaded by swordsmen, who then held the bodies so that the blood still pumping from the severed necks fell into the water.

Mardus opened the chest and lifted out the crystal crown. Taking it from him, Beshar held it up to the sky a moment, then cast it into the surging waters of the pool. Next came a plain iron hoop, then the crude clay bowl.