"I promised them we'd treat them right. And their Calziran cousins, too. That shouldn't be hard. Should it?"

Ghort shifted uneasily. "I don't know."

Ghort's orderly poked his head into the room. "Captain, there're some Deves out here who say they have to see you and the colonel right now."

Ghort grumbled, "Presumptuous assholes. Tell them …"

Else said, "Hang on. I was going to send for them, anyway."

"Bring them in, Colon."

Else asked, "How are Bo and Just Plain Joe getting on?"

"Believe it or not, they both turned competent on us. Bo makes a good noncom. Bo knows all the scams and angles and heads them off before they start to smell. And Joe is a wizard with animals. He isn't the guy in charge but he's the one who makes things work. The critters stay healthy and fed."

"Good. I've always thought that everybody has at least one special talent. An officer needs to figure out what, nurture it, and… Hello."

There were five Deves. Else knew Gledius Stewpo, Shire Spereo, and Titus Consent. The others wore odd clothing and were damp, dirty, and darker than the Brothen Deves. Titus Consent said, "Our apologies for disturbing you before you've gotten settled, Colonel, but there's important news from al-Khazen."

So the dusky Deves would be Calziran. "How bad is it, Titus?"

"Not bad at all. Since we're now forewarned."

"Well?"

"The sorcerers who ran the pirate campaign have established themselves in al-Khazen. They believe they've done so without being noticed. They're planning a major ambush. They want to lure the Brotherhood into a trap where they can get Grade Drocker. Along with lots of his soldiers."

Else was impressed. Someone must have been present during a planning session.

"Speak not the Name of the Demon," Ghort muttered, retailing an adage known in all lands touched by the Instrumentalities of the Night. Meaning in all the lands of the unfrozen earth.

Ghort muttered with cause.

A voice said, "I hear my name." Drocker oozed into the room, on crutches. No expression shown on the ruin of his face.

Else said, "I've just learned that Starkden and Masant al-Seyhan have moved into al-Khazen. They hope to lure us into a trap." He told Consent, "Go ahead."

"There's more to it than that."

"Of course. Go ahead." He hoped Consent did not think he could play games with Drocker.

"Starkden and Masant al-Seyhan won't be the only Masters of Ghosts involved. There's another. Our people can't get close, though. We know he exists only by implication. Because there are places no one is allowed to enter."

One of the Calziran Deves said something. Else could not penetrate the dialect. Consent interpreted. "The wizard that nobody sees is …" Pause. "… one of me foreigners from overseas." Pause. "He came disguised as a foreign soldier." Pause. "Mostly Lucidians came to al-Khazen. But also a few engineers and soldiers came from Dreanger."

Drocker demanded, "Do I know you, dwarf?"

Gledius Stewpo had been easing his way into deeper shadow. "I don't think so, sir." Stewpo laid on an accent Else had not heard before. There was nothing of Sonsa in his voice.

"Perhaps. Yet… it seems I ought to. Never mind. This is interesting. I'm curious. Why did they think they could keep that a secret?" Drocker eyed the Calziran Deves intently, barely controlling his abiding distrust.

Consent posed a question in dialect. The spies responded. He translated, "The foreign Pramans don't believe any Calziran would betray them to the Patriarch. They made examples of several warlords who offered to acknowledge the Emperor."

That got right up Sublime's nose. Nobody, anywhere, offered allegiance to the Patriarchy. Which was the case in Direcia and parts of the Connec where Pramans accommodated themselves to Chaldarean rulers.

Consent continued to translate. "There is also a sorcery on al-Khazen that conceals most of the foreign Pramans."

Else suspected that there was something missing from that explanation.

Consent added, "But you can't conceal forever that which lashes out unpredictably. Nor that which has to eat, especially in these times."

Drocker asked, "What are these men doing here if this sorcerer is so powerful?"

Else got a glimmer of what was bothering Drocker. This could turn deadly in seconds.

Consent understood. "These two can come and go because they're agents of the Mafti of al-Khazen. The Mafti believes they're gathering information from Devedian communities in Chaldarean Firaldia." Beads of sweat stood out on the young man's brow.

"Ah," Drocker said. "I see."

Drocker controlled his hatred, perhaps because Consent was so direct.

"I see," the sorcerer said again. "And how will you convince me that they're betraying their Mafti to us instead of betraying us to the Mafti?" Everyone understood that lives were at stake.

Titus Consent was little more than a boy but he found the right answer. "It's a matter of racial interest, sir. A blind man – pardon…"

"Go ahead. I know about my eye."

"In harsh times Devedians have to make themselves particularly valuable. It's obvious how this war will end. A Chaldarean triumph is coming. We will work to make that happen more quickly and easily in order to lessen the cost to our people."

Drocker nodded. "Good answer." He started to say something else. A coughing spell took hold.

Drocker could not end it. "Hecht!" he managed to gasp, the remnants of his face ferociously red. "Deal with these people. Look sharp. Don't let them skin you. They'll be singing the same song in the courts of Calzir. And be ready to march." He hacked all the while, and continued to cough after he left.

Gledius Stewpo emerged from the shadows. He was pale. He gasped for breath. He wanted to say something but Ghort was still there, not yet finished trying to be too small for a Special Office sorcerer to notice. Stewpo asked, "Did anyone see any blood? He didn't spit in here, did he?"

"No," Else replied. "Why?"

"There's an ugly new disease that starts with coughing up blood. It came west along the Silk Road."

"Sounded like pneumonia to me," Ghort said.

"You were awful quiet," Else observed.

"I didn't have anything to say."

"That would be a first. You. Dwarf. Drocker got me wondering. Why should I believe that you won't lead me into a trap?"

Titus Consent stepped in. "You heard. There's only one possible outcome for this war. The Emperor and Patriarch will win. Our plan has always been to save our people as much pain as we can. That means establishing ourselves as reliable members of the winning team." He made sounds that electrified the Calziran Deves.

They produced maps. Not just one or two but maps by the score. Large-scale maps, small-scale maps, maps reeking intimate detail. Maps that told Else almost everything he wanted to know about the terrain the city regiment had to cross and what it would find as it approached al-Khazen.

"You happy, Pipe?" Ghort asked, surfacing a couple hours later.

"I'm ecstatic. It's my wedding night. Dwarf, this is pure gold. Sorry the paranoia got hold of me, there. Pinkus, we need to get the whole staff onto these. Titus. I understand you have a marching plan for the road south."

"There's a logistical skeleton in place, Colonel. Our circumstances make it hard to do detailed planning."

"That's fine. A skeleton is all we need."

Ghort said, "A skeleton is more than we usually have. Pipe, this kid is fucking awesome. Just fucking awesome."

"You're embarrassing him. And tomorrow he'll ask for more money."

Stewpo interjected, "You plan to stay up all night fiddling with this? Those of us who aren't well known need to get out of sight. Especially these two. There's no reason to believe there aren't other Calziran spies around."