"It should be," Else said. "It was the Dainshau temple and exchange. They abandoned it after the Unbelievers arrived."

"Do you know every building in the city, Hecht?"

"Only the ones that the refugees said were important."

"Suppose some of us occupy that building and the rest stay here. The ones over there hit first. Then those of us here snatch Lothar once the Pramans start to react there. They'll be feeling safe and relaxed. We can hit and get."

Else was not pleased. But he was no Grade Drocker. He could not tell a Principatй to shut up and get out of me way. "Pinkus, you'd better warn the reserves to be ready."

"That's their job, Pipe. They're on it now."

Else asked Doneto, "Can you tell, is that building really empty? There have been a lot of cold, snowy nights since the Dainshaukin fled."

"Go check," Doneto suggested. "If nobody cuts your throat, it's safe."

Else did exactly that. But alone. He could pass himself off as a Dreangerean for as long as it took to become invisible again.

The Dainshau structure had not remained empty. Soldiers had moved in but were not at home now. But, as Else was about to summon reinforcements, the Pramans with the Imperial prisoners appeared.

Else muttered, "Pinkus, I hope you have smarts enough to manage."

Of course he did. A better question might be, would Doneto refrain from interfering?

The Pramans were not alert. And why should they be, deep inside their own stronghold, when they were now confident of their ultimate victory? They were hurrying, in no formation, cracking the dark jokes men make after they have stuck a thumb in Death's eye and gotten away. The first dozen wore Lucidian helmets and rags that had started out as the uniform clothing of Indala al-Sul Halaladin's home cavalry. Next came the prisoners, in the care of Mafti al-Araj el-Arak's lifeguards. Eight or nine Sha-lug brought up the rear.

Something dark and noisome rose from the cobblestones in front of the Lucidians. The stench made Else want to retch. Then Ghort struck from the downhill side. The Lucidians and Calzirans panicked. The Sha-lug were less affected. Even so, Else was embarrassed by their feeble resistance.

Ghort reclaimed the prisoners with little effort.

Many of the fleeing Pramans ran into the building whence

Else was watching.

A second stinking shadow hoisted itself up in the gap between the Pramans and Ghort's raiders.

Else had no opportunity to get away. He dove into a shadowy corner, burrowed into a pile of junk and equipment needing repair, pulled some rags up to cover his face, and fought to control his breathing.

It had been a long time since he had heard his own language spoken. It took several minutes to get back into it.

There were twenty angry men within fifteen feet. Some cursed. Some threw things. Some wanted to counterattack right now, never mind that they had no idea what they faced. Never mind that they were so exhausted that they could barely stand.

A hand passed through Else's limited field of vision. It grabbed a broken saddle from near his hidden feet, flipped it onto its side. A man sat down. He panted, having trouble breathing. He slumped in defeat and a despair beneath which lay anger like molten stone. The man believed he had been misused, wasted, possibly even betrayed.

The twenty were a mixture of Lucidians, Calzirans, and Sha-lug. They went out again after a few minutes. The man seated on the saddle did not join them. Those who spoke to him received only grunts in response.

This was the man in charge, Else realized. And he was hurt He did try to follow the others but did not have the strength.

Else slapped a hand across the wounded man's mouth as he came out of hiding. He would do no harm if he could help it. Then he gasped. "Bone?"

The wounded man looked at Else like he had met his own ghost.

Else turned. "Bone? That is you, isn't it?"

"Captain Tage? But you're dead. For more than a year."

"Hunh. I hadn't heard. When did this happen?"

"They said you were killed by an infidel sorcerer the day you landed in Firaldia."

"They did? Interesting." Inasmuch as he had been sending reports until the city regiment left Brothe. "Who would that 'they' be?"

"Er-Rashal, Captain. He told everybody. The Marshall was seriously disappointed, mostly because he didn't get more use out of you. He wasn't sorry you were dead."

Else's deepest, most secret suspicions seemed confirmed. "Is that our company out there?"

"What's left. And some Lucidians and natives we've been working with. Captain, I'm pretty sure we're here to get wiped out. We get all the worst jobs. We keep losing men. We left Az out there somewhere this time."

"I don't want anyone to know I survived. Not yet. The third sorcerer. The mystery man. That would be er-Rashal himself. Right?"

"Uh… Yes. But how could you know?"

"You know. And probably shouldn't. Right? Bone, we know almost everything there is to know, over there. We have copies of the pay lists of the Calziran companies."

"The Deves."

"They aren't happy about how they were treated here."

"You said 'we.' Who are you now, Captain?"

"Still Else Tage. Your Captain. I was given an assignment. I'm living it. I've had tremendous success, news of which apparently hasn't gotten back to al-Qarn." Else shielded Bone from details the man might be tempted to pass along.

"Bone, I have no idea what er-Rashal is up to. He's managed to waste Dreanger's fleet and a lot of Sha-lug. He isn't going to win here. He seems blind to the real situation. Do us both a favor. Get out before he gets you killed. Get out and carry the word back to al-Qarn."

Bone looked distinctly uncomfortable. Pained in his heart and flesh. "Can't, Captain. We swore the oath. We all did, back when we thought this would stop the crusaders from coming."

Else did not argue. This kind of commitment might seem foolhardy but it was critical to Sha-lug. "Will his death release you?"

"Yes."

Else rested a hand on his old friend's shoulder. "Don't chase us tonight, Bone. Don't make us kill you when we come back. I'm leaving, now. Forget you saw me."

Else darted out of the temple. There was action around Waterhouse Four but the big racket was somewhere else, off to the east

Else caught snatches before he clambered down into the cistern of Waterhouse Two. Braunsknechts had seized a gate. Imperial troops were in the city.

Else's escape attempt ended quickly. Scores of Pramans had gotten into the drainage system through Waterhouse Four, chasing the raiders. Else stayed where he was, hoping to go unnoticed, wishing he wore less distinctively Chaldarean clothing.

34. Stalkers' Hour

Only Arlensul's encouragement kept Svavar going. He was ready to put this whole mad world behind. People by the hundred were dying over religious differences he found incomprehensible.

Shagot only added to his misery. Grim seemed incapable of not attracting attention when he was awake. Though that problem did ease once Imperial forces settled east of al-Khazen, content to outwait their remaining enemies.

Shagot was frustrated when he was awake. The Old Ones could not locate or identify the Godslayer, though they were sure he was, probably, in the camp of the Emperor's Episcopal allies.

Shagot was little more than a draug, one of the walking dead from the legends of lands now lost beneath the ice. Svavar used his brother as a device to endear his band to Vondera Koterba and the Emperor.

Arlensul always warned Svavar when enemy patrols were nearby. If Shagot was awake, they would go kill some and take prisoners. Eventually, the enemy stayed away. But powerful incursions of another sort began to occur after dark.