Now the hundred's eyes narrowed and his face darkened at what he was hearing.

"?fucking garthan! Are you really stupid enough to think that just because you've escaped your proper station in Mythal, you can put on grand airs out here and act like my equal?"

It took Jasak a second or two to recognize the voice. Then he placed it. It belonged to Lance Bok vos Hoven, a Gifted combat engineer who'd transferred into First Platoon along with Shevan Garlath when Garlath had arrived as Fifty Thaylar's temporary replacement. vos Hoven's job had been to recharge the storage units for the platoon's infantry-dragons, and Jasak had been a bit surprised to see his obviously Mythalan name on First Platoon's roster. Shakira were rare?very rare?among the Arcanan army's noncommissioned ranks, aside from a relatively small number who were also multhari, and who were then properly known as "vos and mul," not simply "vos." The fact that vos Hoven wasn't multhari had piqued Jasak's curiosity mildly, but the man had kept largely to himself, and Garlath, his platoon commander, had seemed satisfied with him. Indeed, Garlath had specifically requested vos Hoven's transfer from his original platoon when he himself was assigned to take over First Platoon.

Which, Jasak thought grimly now, should have been warning enough, right there!

vos Hoven had been wounded in the fighting, despite his position at the rear (which he'd shown absolutely no inclination to leave). He'd been hit through one shoulder by an obviously wild shot from one of those horrendous thunder weapons, which had done massive damage to his shoulder joint and explained his emergency evacuation. But from the strength of his voice, it was obvious the fort's medical staff had healed him quite nicely.

Unfortunately.

"Please, vos Hoven," another voice said, and Jasak's already simmering rage boiled up volcanically as he recognized Jugthar Sendahli's terrified, pleading tone. Sendahli had also been badly wounded?in his case, after crawling forward into the teeth of the enemy's fire to man one of the infantry-dragon's whose original crew had lain in slaughtered heaps about him while he fired. "I meant no disrespect, Mighty Lord! I just?"

"You just what?" vos Hoven snarled. "You just thought you'd keep the money for yourself, did you?"

"It's my pay, Mighty Lord!" the garthan trooper who'd distinguished himself so thoroughly cried in a low, anguished voice. "It's all my wife and son have to live on, and?"

Sendahli's voice broke off in the sound of a fist striking flesh, and Sir Jasak Olderhan erupted around the armory corner like a charging rhino.

"What the hells d'you think you're doing, vos Hoven?"

The shakira whirled with a guilty start, eyes wide, right fist still cocked for another blow. Then he jumped back, releasing his left-handed grip on the front of Sendahli's uniform. The garthan staggered, and Jasak's fury redoubled as he saw the blood flowing from Sendahli's nose and mouth, the bruises, and the split eyebrow. The blow Jasak had heard land obviously hadn't been the first one, and fear flickered across vos Hoven's face as he saw Jasak's expression. But then something else flashed through his eyes, and a sneer replaced the instant of fear.

"Administering discipline to the troops, Sir," he said.

The combination of his sneer and the scathing emphasis on the "Sir" told Jasak exactly what was going through vos Hoven's arrogant Mythalan mind. He obviously expected Jasak to be cashiered, and in the society from which vos Hoven sprang, that sort of disgrace would automatically discredit any accusations Jasak might make?especially against someone legally entitled to put that accursed "vos" into his name. But they weren't in Mythal. The shakira might well be right about Jasak's career prospects, but until and unless he was cashiered, Jasak was an officer of the Union of Arcana. And whatever might happen to his career, he was also the son of Thankhar and Sathmin Olderhan.

"Bullshit!" he snapped. "You just landed your lying ass in the brig, soldier! Report yourself under arrest to the fort master-at-arms right damned now!"

"What?" vos Hoven's jaw dropped. Then rage exploded behind his eyes. "How dare you? Do you have any idea who my family is?"

"What makes you think I give a flying fuck who your godsdamned family is?!" Jasak didn't think he'd ever been so furious in his entire life?not even with Shevan Garlath, and that took some doing. "You just go right on running your mouth, soldier! There's plenty of room on the charge sheet!"

"What charge sheet?" vos Hoven barked a contemptuous laugh. "Are you actually stupid enough to think my family would?"

Jasak took one long, furious stride that brought him chest-to-chest with the shorter, more slightly built shakira. vos Hoven's eyes widened. He stepped hastily back for several feet, until the armory wall stopped him, and a flare of fear stabbed abruptly through the contempt and fury of his expression.

"I don't care who your family is, you arrogant Mythalan prick," Jasak told him in a voice which had gone quiet, almost calm, as his white-lipped fury moved from the realm of fire into one of ice. "Not even a caste lord can protect you from the Articles of War."

"Articles of War?" vos Hoven repeated, as if they were words from a language he'd never heard. Then he shook himself. "On what charges?" he demanded.

"We'll start with physical assault of a fellow soldier," Jasak said coldly. "Then we'll add extortion and coercion for financial gain, and conduct prejudicial to good discipline. And we'll finish up?unless you want to go right on running your mouth and dig it still deeper?with insubordination and the defiance of an order from a commissioned officer. And under the circumstances, the court will probably tack 'in time of war' onto the list."

vos Hoven inhaled hard. Potentially, that last charge could put him in the dragon's mouth?that ancient euphemism for the execution of a soldier. At the very least, conviction would result in stockade time, dishonorable discharge . . . and the sort of disgrace no shakira caste lord would tolerate in a member of his clan. He stared at Jasak for a heartbeat or two, then straightened and shook himself.

"Sir, you misunderstand the situation completely," he said in a suddenly reasonable voice, all trace of defiance vanishing from his expression. "I realize how this situation could be misinterpreted, but with all due respect, I must protest the severity of your accusations. This trooper began by assaulting me. I may have overreacted in defending myself, but I never attempted to extort money from him!"

Jasak's lip curled with contempt, and he wondered if vos Hoven actually believed he could deceive the lie-detection spells which were part of any court-martial proceeding. The shakira looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and stepped away from the armory wall, moving to his left.

"I apologize for my initial tone," he continued, "but once I've explained, I'm sure?"

The combat knife seemed to materialize in his right hand even as he lunged forward.

Jasak's eyes snapped wide in disbelief, but his left arm swept out, striking the inside of vos Hoven's forearm to sweep the blade to one side. He twisted his torso simultaneously out of the original line of the thrust, and his right hand reached for the shakira. But vos Hoven fell away from him, evading his grip and circled quickly to his own right. Jasak's hand swept down to his own right hip, but it found nothing. He'd left his short sword in his quarters, since he was only headed for the dining hall, and he swore with silent, bitter venom at the memory. The shakira recognized his expression, and his lips drew back in a snarl, baring his teeth as he balanced himself for a second attack. He started forward again, but before he could move, the garthan he'd beaten lashed out.