“My responsibility,” said Uwe, who was Hunting and Public Safety. “Whip me up some needles, Khalid?”

“As soon as I can get the forge hot tomorrow.”

The Chief took his place with the other seven committee members around the table.

“All right, let’s get this over as quickly as possible so Khalid can get some rest. As Deputy Freeloader, I call this meeting of the Steering Committee to order. Old business. Structures. Let’s have it, Philemon.”

“The huts at the Rhine staging area have been completed,” said the architect. “Everything is ready there except the main shelter pavilion. The boys will have our Hidden Springs visitor dorm ready in another two or three days.”

“Good,” said the Chief. “Public Works. Vanda-Jo.”

A taffy-haired woman with the face of a madonna and the voice of a drill sergeant spoke up. “We’ve finished the masked trail from here to the staging area. A hundred and six bloody kilometers, invisible from the air. Corduroyed the last two kloms through the swamp, and all that wasn’t a bitch! Still putting up the thorn boma around the staging camp to keep most of the critters out and the recruits in.”

“How about the launching ramps?”

“Decided on pontoons. Inflated skins and boarding. Put ’em up at the last minute. Pegleg and his lads are contributing the skins.”

“Good. Hunting and Public Safety.”

“Nothing much new from me,” Uwe said. “Most of my people are working with Vanda-Jo or Phil. I’ve liaised with the commissary at High Vrazel to help with quantities of game and staples when the extra bods start arriving. And we’ve set up a procedure for processing new arrivals here at Hidden Springs before sending them to the river.”

“Sounds okay. Domestics.”

Old Man Kawai pursed his scored lips. “There is no way we can come up with more than a hundred boiled-leather hard hats and chest guards by D-Day. You know how long it takes to shape and dry that stuff, even with the forms filled with hot sand. The volunteers are just going to have to go mostly bare-ass unless you want our people deprived. Do shimasho? I’ve done my best, but I’m no miracle man.”

“The shortage can’t be helped,” Burke said soothingly. “How about the camouflage nets?”

“We’ll be putting the big one in position tomorrow, just in case they get back early with the exotic flyer.” The wizened ancient threw an anxious glance at the Chief. “Do you really, think they’ve got a chance, Peo?”

“Not much of one,” Burke admitted “But we won’t give up hope until the last hour before the Truce… Human Services.”

“Linen bandages ready,” Amerie said. “We’re assembling stores of oil and alcohol and all of the AB we can scrape up. Fifteen fighters have been rough-trained as front-line medics.” She paused, her face furrowed with determination. “I want you to change your mind about having me accompany the fighters, Peo. For the love of God, when will they need me more than in a battle?”

The Native American shook his head. “You’re the only doctor we have. Probably the only one in the Lowlife world. We can’t have you at risk. There’s the future to think about. If we do liberate Finiah, we may be able to de-torc other medical people. If we fail and the troops come across the Rhine to our staging area… it may be a long time until the next war. Our fighters will tend their own injuries. You stay here.”

The nun sighed.

“Industry,” said Burke.

“We brought back two hundred and twenty kilos of iron,” Khalid said. “Four of our men died. We have enough experienced people left to begin final work on the weapons as soon as we get some sleep.”

There were somber congratulations all around.

“Provisioning.”

“We’ve enough stored here to feed five hundred people for two weeks,” Marialena said. “That does not include the five tons of instant rations we’ll distribute to fighters going down to camp. You don’t want any cooking going on down by the Rhine where the Tanu might spot the smoke.” She pulled a handkerchief from the sleeve of her pink and yellow gown and mopped her ample brow. “Those poor souls are going to curse pemmican and parched bulrush roots before this thing is over.”

“If that’s all they curse,” Burke said, “they’ll be lucky. All right, that leaves my report. Warlord in Chief. I’ve received word from Pallol, the Firvulag generalissimo, that his forces will hold themselves combat-ready for the last three days in September. Under optimal circumstances we’ll mount the attack before dawn on the twenty-ninth, which will give us nearly two full fighting days before the Truce officially begins on October first at sunrise. After that, we humans’ll be on our own, and Finiah better be ready for mop-up. I’ll have more details on plans of attack at the war council later. Okay? Now, new business. We’ll consider the matter of the Howler spy as already introduced and sent to Public Safety for action.”

“The final preparation of the iron weapons,” Khalid said. “My men will soundproof one of the vented caves and turn it into a smithy, I’ll need some help from Phil’s people.”

“More new business?”

“We will need more alcoholic drink,” Marialena said. “Mead or beer from the Firvulag. I can’t have the volunteers swilling our young wines.”

Burke chuckled. “Perish the thought. Uwe, will you sound out the High Vrazel people on that?”

“Check.”

“Any more new business?”

Amerie hesitated. “Perhaps it’s too soon to bring this up. But there is the matter of the second phase of Madame’s plan.”

“Hai!” cried Old Man Kawai. “If Finiah is a success, Madame will want to send others south immediately!”

Philemon was uneasy. “We’ll do well to accomplish even a small part of the first phase of Madame’s plan, much less the other two. I say, leave this to Madame to work out when she returns. It’s her scheme. Perhaps she and that wild little person, Felice, will have worked something out.”

“Caracoles,” grumbled Marialena. “I must consider the later phases, even if the rest of you shirk your responsibility. If our people must go south without proper provisions, it is I who receive the cowchip bouquet! Ahhh, I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, querida,” the Chief said peaceably. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow about a possible division of rations. But I think that’s the best we can do for now on Phase Two or Three planning. There are too many unknown factors…”

“Such as who will survive Finiah!” wailed Old Man Kawai. “Or, if we even mount the Finiah attack in the first place!”

Vanda-Jo slapped one hand on the table. “Tails up! No defeatism allowed! We’ve going to hit those high-pocket bastards like they’ve never been hit before. And, Khalid, I’ve got dibbies on one iron arrowhead, if you please. There’s a certain Tanu stud on the other side of the Rhine whose ass belongs to me.”

“If you’re sure that one will do it,” the metalsmith laughed.

“Order,” Burke muttered. “Chair will entertain a motion to table strategy planning for the Grand Combat.”

“So move,” said Amerie. It was quickly affirmed and seconded.

“Any more new business?” the Chief asked. Silence.

“Move adjournment,” said Old Man Kawai. “Past my bedtime.”

“Second,” said Uwe, and the Steering Committee meeting came to an end. Everyone except Chief Burke bade Amerie goodnight and slipped away into the shadows. The quondam judge stretched out his wounded leg for the nun to examine.

At length she said, “There’s nothing more I can do for you, Peo. Hot soaks and moderate exercise to keep the muscles from tightening. I can give you a herendorf to block the pain on D-Day.”

He waved a deprecating hand. “We’ll save it for somebody who really needs it.”

“As you like.”

They went outside, where the village was quiet except for faint insect noises. It was nearly midnight and the moon was still down. Burke craned his neck and studied the starry vault of the sky.