"They fought well. From the little I saw, they made the Pramans pay a terrible price to keep hold of Lothar."

"I'm pleased. I'm exhausted, Hecht. Nearing the end. I have almost nothing left. Not even my usual little kingdom. I'm alone except for Bechter. I should be in a rage about our losses. The behavior of our Deves, down there, should've made me insanely furious. Weapons of that same sort did this to me. But I'm too weak. There is a passage in the Good Book. One of the Unattributed Prophets. 'I am weary unto death.' I won't last the week, Hecht. I may not witness another sunset. I've borrowed all the time that God will loan me." The long speech, made with few interruptions, left Drocker looking like a corpse.

"Shall I send Polo for a physician, sir?"

"No. My time is short. I've done what needs doing. Sergeant Bechter will become your aide. An unimaginative but steady man, Bechter. He'll have all the information and materials you'll need."

"Sir?"

"You will succeed me as commander of Patriarchal forces. The Principatйs have accepted my wishes. They'll encourage the Patriarch to make the appointment permanent."

"I'm not worthy."

"Possibly not. There is much about you that I find disquieting. And more that says there is in you a steadfastness of character more important than lip service religiosity."

Else shifted ground. "Did you get anything out of Starkden or Masant el-Seyhan?"

"The woman was too long dead. I'm no necromancer. Worse luck. We had our grievances. The Principatйs are working on the other one. It doesn't look promising. His brain has been damaged by drugs and poison. Only Special Office experts could open him up. But the two we have in camp were with Lothar. They're unlikely to recover from their capture."

"And the other sorcerer? The one who came from overseas?"

"Gone. Vanished. Claimed seriously damaged by the undead warriors before he finished them off. That's enough for now. I must recuperate. If I can. As you leave tell that old woman to come in. I need changing."

Drocker was not speaking in jest. He had a nurse, a Calziran Chaldarean so old they might have built the Vaillarentiglia Mountains around her. She did change him like a baby. He could not get out of bed anymore.

ELSE TOOK UP THE REINS OF THE REGIMENT. THE FIRST TASK he set his company captains was a roll and injury call. They came up just eight men short. Three were Deves who had participated in the firepowder surprise. Four were soldiers who had arrived in time for the scouring of al-Khazen, hoping to find something worth stealing. The eighth was Principatй Divino Bruglioni. No one had any idea what had become of the Principatй. His peers were almost hysterical.

Else sent searchers to look for the missing men.

He made an opportunity for a private moment with Rogoz Sayag. "Inform Don Inigo that the thing is done. The client understood clearly why before the transaction closed. I wish I could've let someone closer handle it"

Later, once Principatй Bruglioni had been found, a victim of the undead heroes, Rogoz told Else, "Don Inigo has held on desperately. I'm sure he'll be pleased. The Arniena will consider themselves forever in your debt."

"Warn them that I expect to collect. In time. I remain ambitious."

An extended exchange with Rogoz was impossible. Everywhere Else went, now, Polo and Redfearn Bechter followed. Bechter was determined to groom him to take over for Drocker. "I'm the only member of the Brotherhood in Firaldia still standing, sir. And I'm not qualified to be the new warlord."

"I'm sure they'll send someone from Staklirhod as soon as they realize the Castella is empty."

Polo clung because he had nothing else once Principatй Bruglioni turned up. He did not want to be sent to the Bruglioni company. "I don't get along with those arrogant pups."

There were a lot of arrogant pups in the city regiment. Else wished he had been able to put more of them out of Brothe's misery.

He visited Ghort in me regimental infirmary. Ghort immediately insisted, "Pipe, you got to do something about the food around here."

The chief physician for the regiment accompanied Else. Else said, "This one is my number two. See that he gets the same gourmet meals you provide those injured Deve boys in the next shelter."

The physician in charge was Devedian. Of course.

Ghort protested, "Pipe, if you wasn't my colonel, I'd call you an asshole and tell you to kiss me where me sun don't shine."

"Lucky me for being your colonel, then. You'll make a point of getting back to work soon?"

"I'm teetering on the edge of me abyss here, Pipe. With them trying to starve me."

"If you're not available I'll promote somebody else. Bo Biogna, maybe. He'd make a good commander for the city regiment."

Else grinned as he moved away. He felt Ghort healing by the moment.

There were four shelters in the infirmary compound. Two belonged to the city regiment. Two served everyone else. The smaller city shelter serving Devedians and Dainshaus was crowded. Those meant for Episcopal Chaldareans, city regiment and otherwise, were not. The last and smallest shelter served prisoners and outsiders. Else visited because Crown Prince Lothar was confined there.

The crown prince had suffered minor injuries and frostbite. Of his party he was the only one hale enough to resent being on display. He remembered seeing Else before. With few words exchanged Else became sure there was a powerful mind inside Lothar's feeble body.

He was his father's son.

"Your situation may not be as desperate as it seems, Majesty." Which earned Else a blank yet calculating look. "Make sure you're too weak to travel, though. Unless you're eager to see Brothe again."

Lothar's companions included several severely injured Praman nobles. Else supposed they were being saved in hopes of ransoming them.

The Brotherhood sorcerers with whom he had shared that table in Runch had been isolated in a dark corner. The chief physician explained, "Heavy tangles of sorcery surround those two. I haven't the skills to deal with that. So I put them where they can't cause much trouble."

"Isolation is best. Unless you have a pit to put them in."

"They'll be buried soon enough."

“Oh?”

"Neither will survive much longer. We haven't been able to feed them. They wouldn't have lasted this long without the sorcery."

"Grade Drocker will be disappointed."

The younger of the black crows, whose name Else could not recall if ever he had known it, opened his eyes. Wild and frightened, they fixed on Else. "DaSkees? What're you doing here? Where are we?" Then he closed his eyes again.

"What was that?" Else asked, hoping the hammering of his heart did not give him away.

"I don't know. He may be reliving something. Men sometimes do in the grip of a fever."

"Oh. I've seen that. Heck, I've been that sick. When I was little. You're doing a good job. If you need more resources, let me know. I can't promise anything, but… Spring Captain Ghort as soon as you can. I need him." He wanted to suggest that the Brotherhood sorcerers be strangled, too, but that was just wishful thinking.

"POLO. I HAVE A NEW ASSIGNMENT FOR YOU." Polo was not pleased. Polo lived in a state of despair, now that Principatй Bruglioni was gone. He steeled himself for the worst, dramatically.

"Come on. It isn't that awful. You'll be Captain Ghort's man, the way you've been mine. Assuming they do make me the head general."

"Sir? But, sir, who'd take care of you?"

"They've already picked Sergeant Bechter. From the Brotherhood."

"Sir? But, sir, Bechter? He's an old man. And a spy."

Else just smiled at Polo, one eyebrow raised.

"Sir, I'll have trouble getting used to Captain Ghort."