He came up with it in both hands. A footstool, of heavy dark wood. He swung it, and when it caught her knee there was more pain than she'd thought there could be in the whole world. Then he swung it again, and she didn't know where it hit or where the pain was. He swung it a third time, and she saw it coming at her head.

She closed her eyes for a moment. When she tried to open them again she couldn't see anything except darkness. Then the darkness got even darker, although she didn't understand how that could be. She did know that she couldn't see anything at all, but since there wasn't any pain either it balanced out.

By the time Blade thought he knew which tent might be Tressana's, he knew he wasn't going to reach it. He didn't even see much chance of getting out of the camp alive. The forty surviving Elstani were in the middle of a group of Jaghdi who already outnumbered them two to one, with more coming every minute. On foot the Jaghdi were fighting as poorly as ever, but they would soon be able to win by sheer weight of numbers. Blade set about the grim, unrewarding task of taking as many enemies with him as he could.

He killed five men at least, perhaps others, certainly enough to clear a circle around him. No Jaghdi wanted to get within reach of that deadly sword. Blade wiped the blood out of his eyes and started to shout a challenge. He knew what was going to happen next-Jaghdi archers filling him with arrows from out of reach of his sword. He made up his mind not to let that happen and got ready to charge.

Before he could take the first step there was a sudden outburst of shouting among the Jaghdi. Unmistakably, someone was yelling, «Treachery! Treachery! Sikkurad's guards-!» before his voice was cut off. By then the damage was already done. The Jaghdi in front of Blade broke up and scattered like dead leaves whirled away by the wind. Blade stopped bellowing challenges to the Jaghdi and started calling to rally the Elstani. They hurried toward him, most of them showing wounds. Daimarz was among the wounded, one arm bloody but still useful.

«We've got to search the tents before they rally!» Daimarz shouted. Before Blade could stop him, he shifted his sword to his left hand and dashed into the nearest tent. Blade was following at a walk when he heard a strangled, «Oh, gods!» He ran the rest of the way, then stopped at the tent door.

Jollya stood against the tent pole, bound hand and foot to it, wide eyes staring down at the three bodies on the floor. One was a Jaghdi soldier, his face red pulp. The second was King Manro, lying in a pool of blood and filth with a sword between his ribs.

The third body was Queen Tressana. Her left leg was bent unnaturally, one side of her head was a spongy mess, and the blue eyes were blank and lifeless.

Blade started to back out hastily, in search of fresh air. Daimarz hurried forward and started slashing with his dagger at the ropes holding Jollya. As she slumped half-fainting onto him, a sudden commotion outside made Blade turn. Sikkurad, Keeper of the Animals, came tramping through the crowd, a dozen of his guards around him. All looked grim, all were armed to the teeth, even the Keeper. He was pale, sweating, and seemed afraid to look anyone in the face. He still held a short sword in a very steady right hand.

Blade looked from the Keeper to the men around the tent door, counted the Jaghdi, counted the Elstani, saw that everyone seemed to be waiting for someone else to take the lead. Then he looked at the bodies on the floor and back to the Keeper.

«Sikkurad, how would you like to be King of Jaghd?» At last Sikkurad's fingers lost their grip on the sword.

Chapter 24

Two days before, it had been very cold. Today the weather was hot and sticky, more like summer than autumn. In the southwest a wall of black clouds was building up, which promised at least thunderstorms and possibly hail or even tornadoes. Although autumn in Elstan was notorious for changeable weather, this was something beyond the normal. Men were saying that the gods themselves were confused by all the strange events since the Jaghdi marched into Elstan, and did not know what to do.

If the gods were still confused, Blade thought as he walked toward his rolgha, men were beginning to sort things out. It took some fast talking on the night of Tressana's death and for several days afterward, but Sikkurad had now been hailed as King of Jaghd by all the survivors of Jaghd's armies. This included not only the battered cavalry force, but also the infantry who'd sailed up the Adrim. They'd come in a few days before, after a march south from the river under Elstani guard. They would be going home through the forest of Binaark.

In return for letting the Jaghdi go home and recognizing Sikkurad as king, the Elstani were exacting a stiff price. They were taking three thousand amulets and the formula for the synthetic scent. They were also taking home a thousand rolghas, including three hundred mares of proven fertility, and as many draft animals. This would start rebuilding Elstan's slaughtered herds, and within a few years also produce an Elstani cavalry. Then it would hardly matter if Sikkurad was overthrown, or that the hang gliders were no longer a secret. Elstan and Jaghd would be able to meet in battle on equal terms if they met at all.

Blade rather hoped they wouldn't, although it was too soon to be completely optimistic. He also doubted that he'd be in this Dimension enough longer to know much more than he did now. He did know, however, that for every leader who swore eternal bitterness and bloody vengeance there was another who saw the war as the beginning of a new day for both peoples. Blade's vision of the union of Elstan and Jaghd wasn't popular, but it already had some friends. Haima was one in Elstan, Sikkurad was another in Jaghd.

As Blade mounted, Daimarz and Jollya walked up. They were only just restraining themselves from walking hand in hand, and Blade smiled down at them. What was growing between the amazon and the woodcutter was one of the reasons for Blade's optimism. Even though her father would soon be ruling Jaghd, Jollya still wanted to get out from under his thumb as much as possible. In Jaghd that meant getting married, and for Jollya no man except Blade or an Elstani would really do. Since Blade was already betrothed to Chaia, that meant an Elstani. The most eligible Elstani for the daughter of the new king was clearly Daimarz.

It might start out as a state marriage, of course. Blade suspected that it would warm up quickly enough in the bedroom.

If it did, Sikkurad's grandson and the heir to the throne of Jaghd would be half-Elstani. That would be a step toward uniting the two peoples which would be hard to reverse.

All around the herd of rolghas and draft animals, horns were beginning to sound as the herdsmen took their position. Most of them were on foot. Only a handful of Elstani had learned to ride in the last few weeks, and not many Jaghdi were being allowed to join the march. Even they wouldn't have been allowed without Blade and Daimarz arguing hard for it.

«We want to bring the herd home safe!» snapped the woodcutter. «Is it so shameful to admit that the Jaghdi can help us do that? Or are we still so afraid of them that a dozen Jaghdi herd riders make us wet our pants?» He spat on the ground for emphasis.

Jollya untied a pouch from her belt and handed it to Blade. «If you don't think they're unlucky, they should go home to Elstan.» Inside the pouch were the Queen's Jewels.

Blade shook his head. «I don't think they're unlucky. But don't you think you've got a better right to wear them than Chaia?»

In spite of herself, Jollya looked toward a solitary wagon draped in silver-gray, the Jaghdi color of mourning. Tressana and Manro lay in it, embalmed for the trip home. «I hope Tresana won't be forgotten completely,» she said quietly. «She did much good, even though she ended by doing evil. But for now, I think my wearing the Queen's Jewels would keep awake memories better left to sleep for a few years.»