Yoseh grabbed Aaron's arm. "Come on!" He hardly glanced at the idol as he flewpast, into the darkness beyond.

Aaron stumbled after him, averting his eyes from Reyha's pain, from thescarlet ruin of the big man and those he had slain, from the ugliness of themonster god who still had the power to torment Qushmarrah. He went numbly, without hope, unable to restrain a moan when Reyha started wailing.

The Herodian witch yammered at Mo'atabar. Mo'atabar yelled at his men. Somepaid attention. Nogah's bunch wolfed after Yoseh and Aaron. One had enoughsense to bring a lamp.

Ten minutes whirled away, time flown on the wings of vultures. They found nosign of Arif. Hopeless, Aaron trudged back when Yoseh and Nogah went toconsult Mo'atabar.

The sergeant and sorceress were shouting at one another. Mo'atabar stoppedlong enough to order the hole through the wall plugged.

"What's going on?" Aaron asked.

Nogah said, "It seems that if everything has gone Fa'tad's way we have severalhundred of the Living in here with us now. Nice of Mo'atabar to tell us theplan. We were supposed to go up instead of down. They say a fortress'sdefenders always retreat upward. We were supposed to go to the top of the hightower, then climb down outside. That's why all the ropes and stuff." Nogahcursed in dialect. "That's the Eagle. We'd have the Living's captains and bestmen trapped like we have the Herodi-ans caught in the maze." "Why?" Aaronasked.

"Fa'tad knows." Nogah shrugged. "Ask him when you see him. In Hell. It didn'twork. We came down. We prevented Nakar's restoration but got caught in our owntrap."

"I don't want to make you cry, boy," Mo'atabar said. "But we haven't preventedanything." He kicked Nakar's corpse. "The sorceress says they can managewithout this. If they can waken Nakar inside the boy."

Aaron groaned, began to weep, his calm proving more fragile than he hadthought. He went to stand beside Reyha, as though somehow two miseries mightcancel one another, a little.

The Herodian sorceress edged him aside, knelt before Zouki, studied him for along time. Finally, she grunted. "What?" Aaron and Reyha asked together.

The Dartar racket had faded. Azel levered himself up from where he'd beensitting. He cursed softly. Damn, his leg hurt. It was stiffening up, too. Andstill seeping a little. He drew his knife.

He kicked the Witch a good one. She did not respond. "I hope you didn't killus, you crazy bitch." Damn her. He couldn't stay mad at her. Easier to staymad at himself for having been weak enough to get sucked in.

The kid wasn't unconscious but neither was he alert. He seemed caught on a cusp between today and yesterday, Nakar there but shy. Maybe unwilling to comeforward while there was a chance that might mean final victory for Ala-eh-dinBeyh. Fine. Let him float. He needed time to work out how to use Nakar withouthim getting loose completely.

He slipped out of hiding, knife poised. There weren't many of those Dartarbastards. He knew the secret ways. He could pick them off, make them wishthey'd never heard of Qushmarrah. Get shut of them and he could concentrate onthe Witch and the brat and doing what had to be done.

Pity Torgo couldn't be here to do the dirty deed and pay the final price. Nowworking it so he came out looking good was going to be tricky.

He slid into the shadows of Gorloch's image, eavesdropped on the Dartars. Somewere muttering because their sorceress said Nakar could be restored outsidehis body. She was doing something with the other brat. Some were plugging thehole they'd busted through the wall. A few were breaking up stuff for thewood. What the hell?

Ah! Now wasn't that amusing? The Living had come in behind them. And that pileof wood was so they could roast Nakar and Ala-eh-din Beyh.

Azel grinned wickedly. Hell and damnation! Yes! If the Witch's only choice wasto bring Nakar back in the kid, instead of shoving him back into his own body... All kinds of possibilities there. No way Nakar could manage a child's bodylike it was a grown one. And it should be a whole lot easier for the woman toget over a kid.

Hell with hunting Dartars. Wasn't any point with the Living in the citadel.

Let those bastards wear each other down. He'd work on the survivors.

He retreated to the hidden room.

The Dartars would look for the brat again. That sorceress. Didn't look likeshit but she was the same stripe as Ala-eh-din Beyh. She knew. She'd whip theminto looking. If she put her mind to it she'd find the room despite Nakar'sspells of concealment. She'd been good enough to get through the Postern ofFate.

He checked his leg. Not good. Still oozing. Had he left a trail? He checked.

No sign. His clothes were absorbing it. He needed to get off the leg and stayoff. But he couldn't. Not yet. He made a rude bandage and bound it tightly.

That would have to do.

The room was a deathtrap. Better move to the top of the tower. Their sorceresscouldn't do them much good if he got the Witch and the kid forted up there.

All he'd have to do would be sit on the trapdoor. They couldn't get theleverage to push him off.

He rifled his pack, found analgesic powder, washed it down with water from asmall canteen. Bitterness remained in his mouth. He relaxed five minutes, hoping it would start to work fast. He almost drifted off.

He jerked awake. None of that! They wouldn't get him by default.

He checked the boy's pulse, afraid he might have whacked the brat too hard.

The kid hadn't stirred. He was all right.

Better get on with it. He could nap afterward.

He took the boy up first. The ladder seemed a mile high. His leg was killinghim when he got back down, the pain powder doing nothing at all. He recalledhis impulse toward the sinkhole country. Why hadn't he had the plain damnedsense? He had no more brains than that idiot Torgo.

That one cut was leaking again. It wanted rest badly. There was no time. Headjusted his bandages.

He took the Witch up next, limp as a fish. Why the hell couldn't she help outa little? Dumb bitch wasn't worth all this.

One more trip to go, his supplies and the stuff she'd need to finish up. Herubbed his leg and again told himself he could lie down afterward.

He did not think he would complete that final climb. He suffered leg cramps.

His shoulder muscles tightened into rocky knots. The bleeding worsened. Hetore others of his wounds open. He suffered vertigo. He was sure he had donehimself permanent damage. But he couldn't quit. He was what he was, ridden anddriven.

The force within triumphed. As always. He completed his climb, dropped hisload, closed the trapdoor, for a moment faced into the rain. It hadn't wakenedthe woman or boy. He covered the Witch the best he could, though that was onlya gesture. Thunder cracked as he settled on the trap. He'd rest and let theanalgesic work before he tried to waken the woman.

He glanced up. Hard to tell through the rain but it seemed the clouds were lowand moving fast, swirling around the tower.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes. Ten minutes ought to be enough rest.

Zenobel stared at the cage in the great hall. He recalled the place as it hadbeen before Dak-es-Souetta. It had gone to seed. Become shabby. That was sad.

Say whatever about Nakar, he had made the citadel Qushmarrah's glorious crown.

King Dabdahd hustled up. He had the citadel staff besieged in the Witch'squarters. He said, "They won't surrender. They won't even talk."

"Is she up there?"

"I don't know. We tried breaking through the wall to get around the spells onthe door. I lost two men. They didn't see her. That doesn't mean anything."

Zenobel grunted. "What about those damned Dartars? Any sign of them?"

"None but their dead."

Zenobel considered the children he had had rounded up. Were they settled downenough to talk sense? He rose from his seat.