"He never mentioned working for anyone else. He did what he did for personal reasons. He never explained what those were."

"I wish I could help you there. But I didn't even know he was gone. I didn't know his name."

"He was too clever for his own good."

"I see. Look. I don't know who you pass my information to. I don't want to know. But a lot is happening. The people at the other end need to know. They need to let me know what they want me to do. And I don't want to talk about it anymore. That hen smells ready to eat."

GERVASE ASKED, "DID YOU ENJOY YOURSELF, CAPTAIN?"

"Yes, Mr. Saluda. I did. Including the rare pleasure of a good night's sleep. I have an idea. Suppose we have Dugo and the boys study leadership skills from the bottom up? If they went through the training company they might face life armed with one small clue about what it's like for the people who actually have to do the work and suffer the bloody noses.”

Gervase did not like that idea. But he said nothing negative. He never crossed Else. Else might cause certain documents to fall into the hands of Paludan Bruglioni. Gervase had little faith in his friend's ability to forgive.

Gervase said, "That Deve you brought in wants to see you. He's in the accounting office. He brought some of his cousins along."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Gervase. You're a better man than you think."

Saluda wanted to argue, but realized that by doing so he could only belittle himself.

Else grinned. "Would you like to be captain of the Bruglioni company in the city regiment?"

"Don't start that stuff with me, Hecht.”

"Stuff? I never took you for a coward, Gervase. Only for spoiled and ignorant."

"I'm no coward!" No man, however craven in fact, would confess cowardice. Most would fight to keep their terror secret.

"Maybe not. Where is Titus Consent?"

"The accounting office. Going through the business records. And I never had anything to do with any of that."

"Gervase, you worry too much."

TITUS CONSENT, THE DEVEDIAN ACCOUNTANT PROVIDED ELSE by Gledius Stewpo's cohorts, was nineteen years old. And looked younger. And was, without doubt, a dedicated Devedian spy. Numbers were his passion. Though he was married. He had a new son named Sharone he worked into every conversation.

Titus's "cousins" turned out to be more like uncles. One was Gledius Stewpo. Else had seen the other man before, briefly, in the Devedian underground, but could not recall his name. He was one of those quiet, dark-haired Deves who stayed in the background but wielded immense influence in their councils.

Else took a quick look round to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. "What's up?"

Stewpo said, "This seemed like the best way to see you. Now that you're one of the movers and shakers you're up to your ears in Imperial and Collegium toadies all the time."

"I'm glad you thought of it."

Stewpo frowned. "They're watching you?"

"Every minute."

"Who?"

"Ferris Renfrew. He has it in his head that he knows me. I don't know what his game is. Who he thinks I am is who he wants me to be."

"This isn't good," Stewpo said. "He shouldn't know that I'm here."

"Does he know you? Are you somebody he wants to know?"

Stewpo shrugged.

"You could be too late already, Uncle. You haven't been staying out of sight. If Renfrow has eyes in the quarter, he knows. Assuming you're somebody who interests him. Would you be?"

"I shouldn't be."

"So explain what's going on with you and Calzir. Why're your people willing to help Sublime?"

"I'd hoped we wouldn't butt heads over that."

"We haven't. We won't. I just want to understand why you're changing sides."

"There's the flaw in your thinking, Sha-lug. My friends and I are on the side we're always on. The Devedian side. This invasion is going to happen. Calzir can't repel it this time. So we'll try to save our people the customary pain and despair by joining the winners before the fighting."

"The customary pain and despair?"

"In all wars in this end of the world both sides always take the opportunity to punish and plunder their local Deves and Dainshaus."

"Ah." That happened in the Realm of Peace as well, despite a religious law enjoining the protection of unbelievers who submitted to God's law. But it happened less frequently there than in the barbarous west.

"I understand."

Stewpo was surprised. "Not going to argue?"

"No point. You're right. You have to look out for your own. The problem I have isn't with that, Uncle. While I command the city regiment they won't harm your people."

"That problem would be?"

"It's a what-if at the moment. I'm concerned that the Brotherhood reinforcements from Runch might include someone who would remember me visiting Staklirhod under a different name."

After hearing a brief account of Else's stay in Runch, Titus Consent asked, "What would your problem have to do with Deves?"

Stewpo waved that aside. "Sounds like you'd better hope your god outhustles theirs, Sha-lug. Though I wonder why they'd remember your particular incident. It was trivial. Why should they watch for some itinerant crusader to turn up in Brothe? Keep your hair short, run a strong bluff, and be a good soldier."

Else, Stewpo, and Titus Consent talked for an hour, mainly about the execrable state of the Bruglioni accounts, dub to incompetent manipulation.

Consent suspected somebody had been bribed to cover up a large debt owed the Bruglioni.

Consent added, "There is an obvious, clumsy scheme meant to disguise the fact that the rural family aren't paying the central treasury as much as they should."

"Really? Do you have anything I can take to Paludan?"

Titus Consent handed Else a sheaf of papers. "Four copies. I know you consider me just a kid. Listen to me, anyway. There's a lot of money involved in these swindles. That report will be dangerous to somebody. That's why you get multiple copies. That's why I'm telling you to watch your back.”

Polo barged in, startling everyone. He paid no attention to the Deves. "Sir. Captain. There's a messenger. They want you at the Castella. Something's happened."

"Any idea what?"

"No. But the messenger was sure it isn't good news."

"All right." Else told Consent, "Thank you, Titus. Stay in touch. I'll have another job for you soon. It'll pay better."

SERGEANT BECHTER HAD BECOME ELSE'S GUIDE TO THE Castella dollas Pontellas. "You didn't have to run, Captain. The others will take their time."

"What's happening? I got the message secondhand. Polo made it sound earthshaking."

"That may be. I don't know. The way it's being handled suggests there's been a serious defeat somewhere, though."

"Does that make sense? Where is any fighting going on? In Direcia?"

"You'll just have to wait. Like the rest of us."

"But I'm a special guy," Else protested, borrowing from Pinkus Ghort's manual of personal style.

"Blood and turnips, Brother Hecht. I couldn't tell you if I loved you. Nobody told me."

"Probably because they can't trust you to keep marginal types like me in the dark with the mushrooms."

"Sergeant Unreliable. That's what they call me. Go ahead. Take advantage."

"Huh?"

"Isn't the food the real reason you charged right over? Because the first arrivals get all the best?"

Else laughed, but confessed, "I came in a hurry because I thought it would be expected of me."

"The men involved here take a relaxed attitude toward things professional soldiers hold dear. Notably, punctuality and discipline."

No startling revelation, that. The local nonprofessionals tended to think of war as a sport. Despite evidence left by the late pirate raid.