“How could this happen?” Parno said. “Where is the rest of the Dome’s Guard?”

Dhulyn found it more than interesting that such was Parno’s natural tone of command the Guard Captain answered without questioning Parno’s authority to ask.

“The Carnelian Guard is out in the city, helping to quell the rioting in the merchant quarter.”

“Making obvious the purpose of the rioting,” Dhulyn observed under her breath.

“The discontented have always dispersed in a very orderly way upon the arrival of the Carnelian Guard.”

“Of course they have, Din-eDin.” The Tarkin’s even voice silenced everyone. “Making us all the readier to send the Guard out tonight.” The Tarkin drew back his gaze from the distance.

“How many do we have?”

“No more than fifty at the most, my lord,” he said, looking up from the strip of cloth he was using on his wounded guard, strapping the woman’s arm immobile. “But they are scattered through the Dome and some do not know you still live. With us now, a dozen of your Personal Guard, no more.”

He caught the look that passed between the Mercenary Brothers.

“Our security was not lax!” he said, straightening to his feet. “We’re a Personal Guard, not an army. As recently as this morning, all was at peace.”

“The Sleeping God?” Dhulyn murmured.

“Think you’re funny?” Parno said under his breath.

“What do you know, Dhulyn Wolfshead?” Alkoryn said.

Dhulyn gave a pointed glance at the number of people in the room, and waited to speak until she saw her Senior Brother’s face change in acknowledgment of her point that this was neither the time nor place to speak of her secret. “This isn’t a simple coup on the part of an ambitious House, and we all know it,” she said. “This fire has the Jaldeans for fuel. And whatever it is that stands behind them, pushing them forward.” She turned to the Guard Captain. “Your security was not lax,” she told him. “You did not know you were at war. Neither your men, nor your preparations, took the followers of the New Believers into account.”

“My Brother’s right, Tek-aKet. Even had you believed her immediately, our warning may have come too late to do more than save your life. The Carnelian Throne we cannot save, not tonight at any rate. Once you’re upon it again, that will be the time for us to talk about what the duties of the Tarkin’s guards should be.”

Dhulyn did not trouble to hide her grin. The look on the Guard Captain’s face as he looked openmouthed from Alkoryn to the Tarkin and back again was almost worth the trouble that brought them together. She’d wager her second-best sword-or she would if she knew where it was-that the man had never heard anyone speak to the Tarkin that way before. Let alone use the man’s name without his title attached.

“How steadfast are your men, Din-eDin?” Alkoryn asked.

The Tarkin’s raised hand stopped Din-eDin from answering.

“Perhaps that, too, is a question to be answered later, since there is only one way to test it.” Was it possible that the man was smiling? “I am open to suggestions for present action.”

“A strategic retreat, my lord,” Alkoryn said. “Get the Tarkina and yourself to a safe place, and regroup.”

At that moment a disturbance came at the door as the guards let in another man wearing their dark red uniform. He was panting, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, but the blood on his clothes was evidently not his own.

“My lords,” the man spat out as soon as he had gathered breath. “They draw nearer. We will be cut off if we do not move.”

“Nonsense,” Din-eDin said. “We can hold these rooms indefinitely until relief comes.”

“And from where is this relief to come?” Dhulyn’s voice rang out, in stark contrast to Alkoryn’s thin whisper.

In the silence that followed, Dhulyn leaned back against a table and crossed her arms, watching indecision fight its way across the Tarkin’s face. It hurt his pride, she could tell, to abandon his palace, his throne. His jaw firmed, and Dhulyn raised her eyebrows. He would make the grand gesture then, make his stand and die, here and now. She was wondering where their weapons had been taken when the Tarkin’s face softened.

“We will run,” he said, “and see what the future brings us.” He looked around him. “But how can we leave the Dome without bringing our enemies with us?”

Dhulyn shrugged and relaxed into immobility once more, exchanging glances with her Brothers. She saw the same thing on their faces as she knew to be on hers. They would die here or somewhere else; today or on a day to come. They were Mercenaries.

Not that they were in any hurry, she grinned as Parno winked at her. She’d just as soon escape as die trying.

“Captain Din-eDin.” Alkoryn was now very careful to observe the formalities. “Are there enemies between us and the old keep where the summer kitchens once were?”

The Guard Captain was shaking his head, his mouth twisted in thought. “There may be a few, but most are coming in from the front and western gates. They’re in the Throne room, and the Tarkin’s suite of rooms behind it. They’ll seek to isolate us here, but they’d have no reason to go into the old keep. There’s nothing but offices and work-rooms there now.”

“Then there is a way to leave the Dome unseen. But we must spend some of your men to keep your enemies from following.”

The Tarkin grimaced, his handsome face a twisted mask. “How many?”

“You may spend as many as you like,” Din-eDin said. “That is what we are for.”

“You know your men,” Alkoryn said to the Guard Captain. “You tell me how many we’ll need. There are three points that should be held. Let men stand at the two staircases, the Coral and the Ruby, that lead down to the old summer kitchens. Let them hold as long as they may, and then fall back to the intersection where the old serving corridor meets the Onyx Walk. That is the final point. If that is held long enough, we’ll be able to get away. But,” he looked Din-eDin in the eye, “if we are hard-pressed, the men who hold that point will not escape with us. They must stand.”

The Guard Captain stopped nodding. “There’s no escape through the old kitchens.”

“And as long as everyone believes that, we’ll be safe.” Alkoryn said.

“What do you know, old man?” The Tarkin had some hope on his face.

“Enough to get us out of here safely.”

Din-eDin shook his head, “They will know where we went.”

Alkoryn bared his teeth. “They will know where, perhaps, but unless we have no luck at all, they will not know how.”

“Jay.” Din-eDin turned to a young dark-haired man. “Take two men and hold the Ruby Staircase. Taryn, it’s the Coral Stairs for you and two others. Send anyone of ours you see, any you know to be with us, to the old kitchens. You know your orders.”

It was not a question, but the dark-haired guard answered. “Hold our positions as long as we can. Do we fall back, Captain, or would you prefer us to die at our stations?”

He was grinning, but Dhulyn could tell from the set of his jaw that his question was meant seriously.

“Why don’t you improvise, man?” Din-eDin said with a grin of his own that was answered by all the guards. “The rest of you are with us. Stay with the Tarkin, no matter what passes. After we reach the Onyx Walk, you’ll take your orders from Alkoryn the Charter until you’re free of the Dome, and then from the Tarkin himself.”

“Dhulyn Wolfshead will be my voice,” came the harsh whisper of the old Mercenary. “Listen for her.”

The guards nodded, some of them studying the Mercenary woman covertly. A few looked as though they would have felt better if Alkoryn had said Parno was to be his second, not, she knew, because she was a woman, but because she was so obviously an Outlander.

The Tarkin had not moved. He was still leaning against his worktable, arms folded across his chest, frowning down at the spot where his dog should have been lying.