Yoseh's brother Medjhah came trotting around the side of the citadel. "Company coming, Mo'atabar. Ferrenghi officer with a white flag."

A moment later Naszif and Reyha appeared. Naszif was decked out as a Herodian. He exchanged looks with Aaron, sneering mildly at the company Aaron was keeping. He asked, "Who's in charge?"

Aaron indicated Mo'atabar.

Naszif approached the Dartar, who looked at him curiously, surprised to encounter a Herodian officer who had his hair and looked Qushmarrahan.

Reyha stayed a step from Aaron, staring at the wet pavement. She glanced up, then down again quickly. Softly, Aaron told her, "We're going in there pretty soon. We've found the way. We're just waiting for reinforcements."

"Oh." No more than a whisper. She peered at the citadel.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." In a voice like a mouse, defeated and embarrassed.

"It's all right, Reyha. Nobody blames you for anything. It's not your fault."

She just shook her head, stared at the pavement. After a moment, she said, "I want to stay here, Aaron. I want to get Zouki when you go in there."

He wanted to say that was impossible, that there was no place for a woman among men storming a fortress, but said instead, "It'll be dangerous." He knew her desperation for her son better than he knew the few men he called his friends.

"I know. But I want to be there. And if he's not all right ... If something's happened ... Then the danger won't matter."

"I don't like the way you're talking, Reyha."

"Zouki is the only thing I have to live for, Aaron." She had scary stuff going on in her head, barely edging her words.

He did not know what to say so he said nothing.

Mo'atabar was telling Naszif something about the Herodians getting out of Qushmarrah. For the first time, suddenly, Aaron realized that when dawn broke tomorrow and the workweek began he might be unemployed.

Azel clumped downstairs, ignoring his pain. He roared, "Torgo! Torgo! Where the hell are you, you ball-less bastard? We just ran the hell out of time!" Hestampeded toward the Witch's chambers, roaring all the way.

Torgo popped out, pallid.

"We're out of time!" Azel yelled. "They're going to come. Wake her up."

"What happened? I thought ..."

"I don't know what happened. You think I can read their minds? All of a suddenthey're around working on the Postern of Fate. Won't take them long to workthrough the pattern. So let's hit it!"

Trouble was, though they had talked about it, they had no plan for meetingthis challenge. Decisions were the province of the Witch. Even to Azel it hadseemed there would be time enough to get organized after she woke up.

"Take care of her. Get her moving. I'll go try to arrange something to slowthem down."

Torgo just stood there, mouth open, face pale, eyes dull.

"Move it, Torgo! Or we're all dead!"

Torgo drifted back into the Witch's chambers.

Azel limped on down to the main floor. He found the staff assembled already, terrified, alerted by his bellowing earlier. Here were all of Gorloch'ssurviving believers, eight men and twelve women. Not much to brag on. Azeltold the men, "You guys get out some weapons. They're going to come throughthe Postern of Fate. Nakar left a hundred tricks and traps. Set them up. Turnthem loose. We got to buy time till she can get down here to help."

They responded with no enthusiasm.

"Hey! You think about this. You remember this. They ain't going to leavenobody alive if they get in here. Not you, not me, not nobody." He eyed thewomen. What the hell was he going to do with them? "Any of you want to helpthe men, grab a weapon and go." Surprising him, four chose that course. "Allright. The rest of you go upstairs and see what Torgo has for you." He had anasty idea. "Wait! You. You. Go keep an eye on those kids. Be ready to movethem if I tell you."

The last two hurried off. Azel grabbed a lighted lamp and went down to visitNakar and Ala-eh-din Beyh, only once he got there he ignored them. He steppedaround one and over the other, carried the lamp into the darkness behind theimage of Gorloch. He passed through a doorway closed by dusty black curtains, entered a suite of rooms that had been used by priests before and afterceremonies. Those chambers had remained inviolate since Nakar had stepped outshortly before the arrival of Ala-eh-din Beyh. The Witch had been forbiddentrespass.

He hadn't forgotten his way around. He made several minor arrangements, thenwent to a wardrobe cabinet where sacerdotal robes and accessories still hung.

He eased between hangings, used a knife to probe a seam in the cabinet's back.

Something clicked.

The cabinet back swung away into darkness. Azel followed it into a hidden roomeight feet by eight. He lighted three lamps from his own, inventoried the room's contents.

Everything was there, as it had been when one of his duties had been tomaintain the bolt-hole.

There were three ways out. One tight crawlway wormed through the citadel wallsto debouch near the Postern of Fate. A vertical shaft climbed the citadel's tallest tower, the top of which was the highest point in Qushmarrah and couldbe seen from nowhere else. It could be reached only from this room.

The third exit lay beneath the floor. It burrowed deep into the earth.

He was satisfied. The escape option was covered. He topped off the oil in thethree lamps, left one burning. There would be no time to piddle away lightingone if a retreat became necessary. He closed up and went to find out how Torgowas doing with the Witch.

He muttered all the way, cursing his wounds.

Bel-Sidek sensed something amiss the moment the soldier let him into Meryel'shouse. Something had changed. He could not lay a finger on it immediately . .

.

He had left one of his own men on the door when he had slipped out. The manwho let him in was not one of his own.

The khadifas were waiting where he had left them with orders to compare theirresources in case it became necessary to take action. Hadribel was all puffedup with anger. King was red with embarrassment. Salom Edgit would not meet hiseye. Carza was smiling like a cat with feathers in its whiskers.

So.

Bel-Sidek faced Zenobel, who showed him nothing. "Surprise. You made your movebefore the fact."

"What?" Startled.

"I'd thought you'd make your play later. I'd forgotten you tend towardoverconfidence."

Zenobel did not look confident now.

King said, "We took a vote ..."

"I know. Four to one to overthrow the overly cautious General, with Hadribelcasting the dissenting vote and miffed enough to withhold the strength of theShu at a time when the organization is enfeebled already by its loss ofcontrol in the Hahr. Which now owes allegiance to the khadifa of the Shu. Sowhat do we have here? Shall I become a prophet and foretell the future?"

"By all means," Zenobel said, with less composure than he had possessed amoment ago.

"The movement will fall into two factions, the smaller loyal to the General'spicked successor, the other the more successful. Once the invaders evacuatethe city the war faction will split again when you and Carza try to shake off nuisances named King Dabdahd and Salom Edgit. We may see Living blood shed bythe Living. Then the final act, as you and Carza struggle for the right toshape Qushmarrah's destiny.

"About the time you get it sorted out Herodian legions will come to reclaim acity which has been too busy playing faction to prepare for their return."

He looked them all in the eye. Even Zenobel flinched.

He pushed out the door, to where four of Zenobel's men waited. "Take mewherever you're supposed to keep me confined."

The carpenter's conversation with the veydeen woman seemed personal, deservingof privacy. Yoseh drifted nearer Mo'atabar and the envoy.