"So what does that mean?" Ivy was not sure that she wanted the answer.

"Lots of stress on the stone. Stress on stones is good if you want to break a wall." Mumchance was talking very softly, almost speaking to himself. Wiggles ran up the stair ahead of him, but the little dog was uncharacteristically silent. Not a yap or yip or whine.

Ivy stared at the stocky dwarf climbing in front of her. "Not so good if you happen to be inside the breaking wall."

Mumchance squinted over his shoulder at her. His one good eye looked very worried. "I was thinking the same thing."

Ahead of them, Zuzzara gave a surprised grunt. Ivy peered past Mumchance's shoulders to see the dazzle of daylight silhouetting the half-orc's head.

"Hey, we are going outside." Even with a crazed magelord, the Moaning Diamond, and a couple of bugbears behind her, Ivy could not help feeling pleased by the sight of sun shining ahead of her.

"Ivy," Zuzzara said sounding unusually worried. Her large frame blocked the exit, a hole in the wall where the stairs ended. It was neither doorway nor arch, but rather a jagged entrance that looked as though some force of magic had blasted away a section of the rock. Zuzzara spread her large hands on either side of the hole and leaned forward. "I don't think we want to be here."

"Oh dear," said Gunderal, peering around her big sister. "I think she's right."

The press of Siegebreakers pushed behind them, and one of the bugbears hissed out an inquiry, starting to lower his glaive to prod the reluctant half-orc in the back. Sanval stumbled against him and knocked the glaive's blade into the wall with a harsh scraping sound. Zuzzara looked back over her shoulder at them, and her brows drew together in distress, unwillingness clear in her expression. Then she shrugged and stepped through the hole, and Gunderal followed her large sister out into the open. Ivy popped through the hole in the wall to sidestep around Gunderal and Zuzzara, swinging by them on her long legs so that she stood in front of them. If there was an enemy here, she preferred to be in the lead.

Ivy found herself standing on the top of one of Tsurlagol's city walls, a flat pathway of stone built to be used by patrolling guards. The view of the fields beyond the wall was magnificent-clear sky, brilliant sunlight, and fresh air best of all. She could see the line and cornering of the wall, the tumble of city buildings on one side, and the slope of hill on the other, falling away to the patchwork of fields trampled into dust by the summer-long siege. If she squinted, she could even make out the dark outline of the forest that the Thultyrl had wanted to use to shield his troops before their charge of the western wall.

But far closer than the forest were the other troops who occupied the besieged Tsurlagol. Ivy found herself sharing the top of the city wall with a full complement of orcs and hobgoblins, all looking quite stunned to see her and the other Siegebreakers suddenly pop out of a magically appearing hole in their fortifications.

Ivy never could decide which she disliked fighting the most, hobgoblins or orcs. Today she thought the orcs were the bigger problem. The hobgoblins were larger, better equipped, and smarter, but there were only four of them.

On the other hand, there were a lot of orcs on the wall. Short, ugly creatures covered with tufts of stiff black hair, their little red eyes glittered in their mottled gray faces, and sharp tusks protruded from their lower gums. And there were taller ones too-mountain orcs by the look of them, with big pig snouts and even redder, madder eyes than their gray kin. Fottergrim's troops wore armor that was a hodgepodge of stolen bits, which Ivy could not fault as her own gear fell into that category. But at least she cleaned off the dried blood and rust whenever she could. They wore the blood and rust proudly, and added bright orange and purple rags of clothing. They moved in a crouched stance, and those who lacked helmets blinked rapidly, reminding her that bright light bothered the eyes of most orcs. It was one of those facts that might never be useful but was worth noting. In battle, who knew what information was or wasn't useful? She didn't underestimate the orcs. They might not be the smartest fighters, but these orcs carried enormous weapons, and all she had was one empty scabbard.

Both type of orcs were snarling at each other. But none snarled at the four hobgoblins forming an honor guard around the big orc commander who barreled through them. That puzzled Ivy. Hobgoblin mercenaries usually controlled orcs, not the other way around, but here the hobgoblins pushed back the smaller orcs to allow this one large orc to march toward them.

Ivy expected them to rush her. She planted her feet in a wide stance, her arms spread in front of her company so that the line building behind her on the walkway was less visible. Let them think she led an army that snaked down the steps and would emerge in great numbers-at least until she could determine their strength.

"What is this? What is this!" An enormous orc was pushing to the front of the troops, shoving past his hobgoblin guards.

"What are you doing here?" the orc continued. His high forehead slanted beneath his helmet, and his face seemed all big pig snout and enormous jaw. He was almost as tall as the mountain breed but with clearer silver skin. Wiry tufts of chestnut hair sprouted between his lupine ears. Ivy wondered what type of orcs his parents had been-the clever kind or the stupid kind? Because as all the gods knew, there were both in the breed, as Zuzzara always said. Ivy rather hoped that this orc descended from an exceptionally stupid and slow family, because all she had at the moment was a fast tongue and a heart full of regret for her lost sword and missing dagger.

Ivy drew herself to her full height, then cheated a little, rising up on her toes so that her eye level was as close to his as possible. With her fists jammed into her waist, she turned her body slightly to the side so that he could not immediately see that she had lost her sword. She jutted her chin forward and challenged the big leader confronting her as belligerently as she could. "Looking for Fottergrim, sir! Have an important mission! Need to go past immediately, sir!" She barked out her sentences in a fine loud herald's voice, hoping the troops would part and let the Siegebreakers advance to wherever Fottergrim was encamped in Tsurlagol. With good luck, Fottergrim's headquarters would be a long, long walk from their present location-a long enough walk to allow them time to ambush Archlis, disarm two bugbears, and make a dash for freedom.

It was, Ivy would have been the first to admit, a fairly shaky plan, but maybe with enough shouting she could bully her way past this big and hopefully stupid orc. What she was going to do about being on the completely wrong side of the besieged city's walls-well, she would figure that out later, gods willing. Right now, she just needed to get past the troops all goggling at her like she had said something extraordinarily surprising.

"Need to report to Fottergrim, sir!" Ivy repeated. "Immediately, sir! Let us pass!"

The silver orc stared at her in bewilderment. "I am Fottergrim! What is this?"

"Oh dear," whispered Gunderal behind Ivy.

Ivy did not even blink. "Reporting for duty, sir. Glad to find you so quickly. New troops. Returning your magelord as you commanded."

"What!"

Ivy reached behind her and grabbed the magelord as he emerged into the sunlight and blinked. Her strong fingers balled the front of his robe into a knot that just happened to pull the cloth tight around his neck. Archlis sputtered, caught off balance and unable to catch his breath. If he had not kept such a desperate hold on his Ankh with one hand and the Moaning Diamond with the other, he might have been more difficult to handle. Grabbing his shoulder with her other hand, Ivy swung him in front of herself. She pushed him, hard, at Fottergrim. "Here's Archlis, sir. Just where you wanted him!"