"Don't be silly," Stewpo told Else. "If we had a quarter of the power those stories claim we'd never suffer the kind of crap that happened in Sonsa."

"Uhm?" Else grunted.

"Whenever you bump noses with the notion that Deves are the secret masters, ask yourself why all the Deves you know live the way they do when everybody else lives the way they do."

Else confessed, "I don't care about the religious business. I don't care who believes what as long as the job gets done."

Stewpo grinned. He lacked a front tooth, on top. A bit more hair, Else thought, and the dwarf would bear a striking resemblance to a creature out of a tale where runt folk spun straw into gold.

Stewpo's whole race hailed from a land where fairy tales reigned, though.

"No secret overlords," Stewpo promised. "If every Devedian agreed that that was the best idea since the Creator declared us His Chosen People, it would fall apart as soon as you pulled four Devedians together to make it happen. You think pettiness, vanity, and envy are exclusive to your world? Try being part of the Devedian underclass. Where every carat of status is jealously nurtured – and becomes a target for anybody who thinks he can profit if you lose."

Else nodded. He could pretend to believe anything "Titus. The companies have to move south. Now. Advise your correspondents. Gledius. I know you don't speak for Brothe's Deves. But you're the big bull Deve who's here right now. Is there going to be a Devedian company or not?" For weeks the Deves had muttered about adding a company of their own to the city regiment. But their leaders never seemed quite sure what they wanted. Nor was Else sure that the Patriarch and his henchmen would permit it. Though it was common knowledge that King Peter's combined Navayan and Connecten force including not only Chaldarean heretics but Devedians and Pramans, with the latter more numerous than right-thinking pro-Brothen Episcopals.

"There will be a small force of specialists. Men with the technical skills to help you solve your special problems."

Else supposed that meant clerks and accountants whose most important function would be to serve as the conscience of the regiment.

THE SUMMONS WAS SO LONG COMING THAT ELSE HOPED HE WAS being overlooked. A dozen companies had gone south, headed for an encampment near the border town Pateni Persus. One of those companies was Bruglioni. Two hundred strong, it included a dozen actual members of the family. The Arniena force, commanded by Rogoz Sayag, was as large. The well-armed Devedian contingent, gone early to blaze the way, numbered more than three hundred. Quite a lot of specialists.

Eight Principatйs sat behind a long table. Else recognized them all. One represented each of the Five Families. Principatй Doneto undoubtedly stood in for his cousin. A senile octogenarian did nothing but make strange noises and drool while a thirtyish bishop read his mind and spoke for him. Finally, there

was Principatй Barendt from Smoogen in the New Brothen Empire. Hansel's man.

The Madisetti Principatй was blunt. "What do you think you're doing, General Hecht?"

Else stifled impulse. After all, he had just been promoted. In one man's mind. "Could you be specific, Your Grace? I was hired to train and command a regiment that the City would place at the Holy Father's disposal. I've done that. The Holy Father has often said that he wants Calzir's punishment begun. First, it was before the harvest. Now it's before winter. But we're still here, far from Alameddine and the Vaillarentiglia Mountains, while the Five Families squabble over loot that's still in Calziran hands."

To Else's astonishment Grade Drocker made a surprise appearance while he spoke. Drocker interjected, "Presenting this sort with the accomplished fact is the only way things get done, Hecht. Listen up, Your Graces. I have a message." Drocker sounded far stronger than he had in more than a year.

Else considered the Brotherhood sorcerer warily. He had not known that Drocker was in town. The Brotherhood kept its secrets well.

Drocker continued, "I came back to find out why the delays continue. It isn't a journey I fancied. I have little stamina anymore. It's past time to begin, gentlemen. The Connecten and Direcian forces have established themselves on Shippen. Hunger flirts with mainland Calzir already. The strategy originally approved by the Holy Father is working perfectly. He has expressed frustration, though, because the next step continues to be delayed. The key group of soldiers remain tied up here."

Drocker glowered. He dared. The Collegium dreaded him. Everyone feared the Brotherhood of War. Most especially, they feared the displeasure of the Special Office. Not even the Patriarch himself could compel the Brotherhood of War.

"Colonel Hecht, I commend your initiative." There went the promotion. And here came several new enemies. "His Holiness has bid me take control of the City Regiment, heeding advice from none but its appointed commander." Drocker's battered features dared defiance as he surveyed the Principateй.

The Special Office would turn on the Collegium someday. The extinction of sorcery was the fountainhead mission of the Special Office.

Drocker said, "The Patriarch has decided that all forces raised for the Calziran Crusade will move to Alameddine now. He told me to deal with obstructionism however I see fit."

Someone tried to raise the point that the city regiment was not a Patriarchal force. Contradicting its specific charter.

Grade Drocker said nothing. His ruined face, intense and cold, was sufficient to close debate. That was real power. More power than Else would have guessed that Drocker possessed.

ELSE REACHED THE PATENI PERSUS ENCAMPMENT ON A DAY reported to be unnaturally cold for Alameddine. Snowflakes flashed amongst the drops of misty rain. Snow and ice had begun to accumulate on the peaks of the Vaillarentiglia Mountains for the first time in centuries. Else did not care. He was miserable enough right where he was. He had ridden all day under conditions that had worsened by the minute.

Perhaps what they said about winter in Calzir was no exaggeration.

Else was not eager for a campaign in this, which could only get uglier. But Hansel, Sublime, and Drocker all were eager to follow up on King Peter's successes on Shippen. The weather did not trouble them.

The last few hundred of the city regiment accompanied Else. If Pinkus Ghort had done his job, those in camp already would be ready to move on south.

"They finally ran your ass out of Brothe, eh?" Ghcrt asked when Else arrived, though he saved the familiarity till they were in private. He had set up the regimental headquarters inside a deserted church.

"Drocker came to town. He made them turn me loose. They're mad as hornets, too. But they're mad at Drocker."

"And that won't do them no fucking good, right?"

"Not even a little. What kind of shape are we in?"

"You won't be unhappy with the troops. Some of the officers, though… My heart wouldn't break if some kind of plague came along that only kills incompetents."

“Take it up with God. Because you won't get help from any earthly power. I tried three times, with three different gangs of power brokers. I might as well have been speaking Lindrehr from back home. They don't comprehend merit or competence. … Come on. I'm serious. What shape are we in? We're going to move real soon, now."

"They told you any more about what they want us to do?"

"Everything. I mean, we have to do everything. Like overrun everything west of al-Khazen. While keeping the folks in al-Khazen fixed until the rest of the country has been mopped up. Do we have a movement plan?"

"Thanks to the Deves. They're bringing in some great info. You got something on them?"