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  "I will ask you a question," she said. He agreed. "Do you regret coming here? Do you miss your comrades on Weatherlight?"

  He stopped, feet stirring little gouts of fine dust. "They left me here," Ertai said. "I was angry at them for that. Now, in an odd way, I think they did me a favor."

  Amid the ruins, the sanguinary light of the lava column, the still, humid air at the bottom of the crater, Belbe had a strange, new experience. A more worldly woman could have told her she was feeling affection for the first time. As it was, she had to figure it out herself.

  *****

  The hostages filled the stockades with resignation. Each family staked out a place in the dusty enclosures and waited for word they could go home again. Soldiers stood atop the low rubble walls, eyeing their quiescent charges.

  Belbe and Ertai arrived to find Greven seated on a broken monolith. Dorian il-Dal was with him, a picnic lunch spread out on a cloth between them. When they saw Belbe approaching, both men rose and bowed.

  "Greetings, Excellency! You are looking well today. Why didn't you let us know you were coming? I would have prepared a repast for you as well." Dorian said effusively.

  "It's of no matter," she replied. "I do not eat."

  "Are the hostages here?" Ertai asked impatiently.

  "Six thousand of them," confirmed Greven.

  "Five thousand, nine hundred eighty-eight, to be exact," said Dorian. He held up several loose scrolls. "I have the tallies here if Your Excellency would care to see."

  She ignored the proffered scrolls and walked to the mouth of the Dal stockade. Moggs grunted and sidled away from Belbe. Guards on the wall snapped to attention.

  Dorian, Ertai, and Greven came up behind her.

  "What does Your Excellency require?" asked the chamberlain.

  "A better view, first." She looked left and right, judged the far wall to be straighter, and sprang from a flat-footed stance to the top of the seven-foot-high structure.

  Belbe looked out over the dusty arena, jammed with almost two thousand Dal. With designed thoroughness she catalogued the crowd: one thousand, five hundred and thirtythree adults, four hundred and sixty-one children. Most of the adults were elderly or female. She started counting crutches in the crowd and stopped when she passed one hundred and fifty. Distaste rose in her throat. She turned to the trio of men waiting below her.

  "Who chose these people?" she shouted.

  "Why, I did, Excellency, with Lord Greven's help," Dorian replied.

  "Why take these particular people-women, children, the aged?"

  "Come down, Excellency. I'd rather not have this conversation yelled from the stockade wall," Greven said, his face hardening.

  She did come down, landing inches in front of the towering warrior. "Explain your choices, Chamberlain."

  Dorian's lip trembled. "The-the Dread Lord and I discussed it. We agreed these would make the most effective hostages."

  "Go on."

  Greven stepped up. "Our goal is to keep peace inside the Stronghold. We chose people who have strong bonds with those not chosen. Dal men will think twice about rising against us if they know we have their mothers, fathers, wives, and children in our power."

  "I think you've erred, Commander," Belbe said. "Now we're as much hostages as those people beyond the wall!"

  Ertai spoke up. "What do you mean?"

  "If any harm comes to these people, it will foment rebellion rather than quell it." She was angry, and she didn't know how to handle the emotions stirred up by the plight of the hostages. "Why didn't you round up young males instead? They're the potential allies of Eladamri, not these helpless folk."

  "In matters of civil unrest, there are no innocent bystanders," Greven said.

  "Be at ease, Excellency!" Dorian pleaded. "No one wishes harm to these people. When Lord Crovax returns triumphant, all will be well."

  "And if Crovax loses?" asked Ertai.

  The silence that followed was suffocating.

  CHAPTER 10

  RIVALS

  The Skyshroud Expeditionary Force remained on the field for two days, burning its dead and building temporary defenses out of turf, rocks, and the wreckage of the army's equipment. Everyone expected the rebels to attack and wipe them out, but they didn't. Cavalry patrols were sent out to locate Eladamri's band, but they returned in a few hours and reported finding no sign of the enemy.

  The rebels didn't leave behind a single scrap; every thrown spear, every bent sword, every broken helmet was scavenged from the field of battle. Nor were any rebel dead left behind. The plain around the burned Rathi camp had been trampled flat by men, elves, moggs, and kerls, but no other evidence of Eladamri's force remained.

  Crovax withdrew to his makeshift quarters-a pile of scorched sod with a square of canvas for a roof-and brooded over his defeat. Organization and defense of the Rathi position fell to Nasser. Aside from grunting approvals to Nasser's suggestions, Crovax did not speak for two whole days. Late in the afternoon on the second day after the battle, he emerged from his hut. Nasser had been lingering outside, waiting for his commander to appear.

  "My lord," said Nasser when Crovax stood unblinking in the late day sun. "What are your orders?"

  "Any sign of the enemy?" asked Crovax quietly.

  "None, my lord."

  "Break camp. We will march." Crovax turned to go back inside.

  "Very good, my lord. Where to?"

  "The Stronghold."

  The army had been waiting for just such an order, and in less than an hour they were ready to march. The cavalry fanned out to watch for rebels, and the infantry column, much reduced in length, shouldered their weapons and started off.

  The Corps of Sergeants waited patiently for Crovax to join them. The commander's kerl was tethered to the stump of a lance outside his quarters. More than half the army was on the path back to the Stronghold, and there was no sign of Crovax.

  "Someone should rouse him," Tharvello said. The other sergeants shook their heads. No one wanted to incur his wrath.

  "Nasser, you're his favorite. You do it," said Tharvello.

  "I can wait."

  "Ha! You're afraid of him too!"

  Eyes narrowed to slits, Nasser dismounted his sootsmudged kerl and tossed the reins to the nearest mogg. He squared his shoulders and walked to the door of the little sod hut-just a flap of tattered canvas, waving slowly in the light breeze.

  Five feet from the hut, Nasser halted and called out, "My lord! The army is underway. Will you take your place with us?"

  A muffled thud, and a cloud of dirt whirled away from Crovax's hut. Shafts of blinding white light burst from every crack and crevice in the sod walls. Nasser threw an arm over his face, and the hut collapsed with a spurt of gray dust and ash.

  "Sergeants, to me!" Nasser cried. A dozen seasoned warriors ran to the destroyed shack and tore through the poles and clods of earth looking for their commander. When they found themselves scraping at virgin soil beneath the hut, the sergeants realized Crovax was gone. Everyone spoke at once.

  "What happened?"

  "Eladamri-"

  "-elven magic!"

  "Some new weapon-?"

  "-Eladamri-"

  Nasser squatted in the remains of the hut, toying in the debris with his fingers. His careful contemplation of the situation gradually calmed his fellow sergeants.

  At last someone said, "Where did he go?"

  "Maybe back to where he came from," Tharvello said. "What do we do now?"

  The senior sergeant dusted the drab soil of Rath from his hands. "I will take command."

  They were more than happy to let him shoulder the burden. Tharvello said, "What are your orders, Nasser?"

  "Without a body, I can't assume Lord Crovax is dead. The commander's last order stands," he decided. "We go home."

  *****

  Predator was airborne again, thanks to Greven's tireless efforts. After the hostages were secured, Greven returned to the airship dock, where he oversaw the repla
cement of Predator's powerful engines. The hull was floated out the lower dock and carefully steered to the upper landing pylon. There the final refit would take place, and Greven would take on new crew to replace those lost in the costly battle with Weatherlight.

  Ertai disappeared into the libraries of the Citadel, beset by the conundrums of his place in the scheme of things. Days passed, and Belbe saw little of him. When she finally did, she was amazed by the changes slowly transforming him. Early one morning she found him perched on a table in one of the old scroll depositories, surrounded by heaps of discarded documents. It was stifling in the narrow room, and Ertai had stripped to the waist to better bear the heat.

  Never a muscular fellow formerly, Ertai now displayed a formidable breadth of shoulder as he sat hunched over a scroll. That, and the fact his hair had become copper-brown made Belbe doubt she was seeing him at all.

  "Hello," she said uncertainly. "I see you're making use of the libraries."

  "These scrolls are all wrong," Ertai said, pushing the heavy scroll aside. "Their description of energy crossover-"

  "What's happening to you, Ertai?"

  He looked at her from under heavy-lidded eyes. "What are you talking about?"

  "You're changing. Your hair, your physique-"

  "It's to be expected," he said, stretching his bare arms, now covered with thin, ropy muscles. "The energy infusions you started me on are doing it. Every time I go back to Volrath's laboratory, I change a little more."

  She drew back. "You're still using the infuser? Why?"

  "Imagine my chagrin when I discovered the effects of the device were only temporary. When my injuries return, I have to go back to the infuser for another treatment. I should've known it wouldn't actually heal me. If I hadn't been so hurt, I'm sure I would have thought of it."

  "Thought of what?"

  Ertai leaned his cheek against his knee. "Only natural life-energy can heal human flesh. Other varieties can mask damage by transforming it into something else. In my case, Volrath's device seems to be making me into a lesser version of our friend Greven."

  "No!"

  "It doesn't matter. I can't stop now, anyway. If 1 miss a day at the infuser, the misery of the torture session comes back. I can't bear it… a little muscle won't hurt me, and my mind is still my own. Maybe even better, if that's possible. I'm reading eight books a day, did you know that? I'll be through this library soon, then I'll move on to the next."

  "Be careful, Ertai."

  He smiled in his own wry way. Ertai held up his hand, palm out, to the closest scroll-laden shelf. The flowstone rippled like a reefing sail. He sustained the motion for several seconds before it faded.

  "Your influence is improving," she said, pleased.

  "Yes. I may give Crovax a surprise before long."

  She wanted to speak to him about his growing power, but Ertai lowered his head to his reading again and quickly forgot Belbe was present. She backed out of the close little room. Her heart was beating fast, and she didn't know why. It took several minutes to slow it to a normal rhythm.

  Belbe continued her rounds of the Citadel, stopping by the factory control room to check on the Accelerator unit she'd installed. The stubborn device kept trying to raise production to inefficient levels above 100 percent, which forced Belbe to improvise a method to hamper the machine's excessive enthusiasm for production. She settled for tampering with the output meter, resetting it by hand to fool the Accelerator into thinking the factory was producing more flowstone than it actually was. However, there was a problem with her makeshift solution. Like every other mechanism in the factory, the output meter was self' correcting. In the course of several days' production, it would discover its readings were inaccurate and correct itself. Thus Belbe would have to return to the control dome every other day to reset the output meter to maintain maximum efficiency.

  While she was adjusting the output meter for the first time, she spotted a ball of white light, about two feet wide, circling and descending the energy column. The ball darted first in one direction, then another. Belbe lost it for a second against the glare of the beam, then adjusted her vision to see past the column's corona. High above, the white ball of light hovered over the upper airship dock. It dipped behind the pylon and was lost from sight.

  Curious, she left the control station and made her way back to the residential wing of the Citadel. Everything seemed normal. Servants and courtiers bowed as she passed. Guards stood at their stations, unalarmed.

  She reached the main intersection in the heart of the palace. From here, stairs and flowbot lifts branched out all over the structure-up to the evincar's quarters, down to the laboratories, libraries, map room, armories, and prison. Belbe strained every nerve in her being, searching for the fiery intruder. The strongest trace (which was very weak indeed) came from a window in the outside wall. From there she looked down on the mogg warrens, map tower, Volrath's laboratory, and the roof of the Dream Halls. The arched roof of the hall bore ghostly heat trails, crisscrossing back and forth. The phantom visitor was there.

  For the first time in her short life, Belbe ran. Her legs were quite healed after her fall in the ruins a few days ago, and she ran to the physical limits of her alloy frame. Flashing down the dark corridors of the palace, she passed unsuspecting courtiers and soldiers in a blur. Within seconds, Belbe was at the doors of the Dream Halls. Her hands were just about on the handles when the tall double doors swung silently inward. Belbe rushed into the vast, silent hall.

  "Ah, my young mistress."

  "Crovax!"

  He was still in his dusty armor. She could smell blood and smoke, and saw bits of wire grass snagged in his boots.

  "Was that you?" she said, incredulous.

  "You saw me? Oh yes, you're the emissary, you see everything." He seemed dizzy and shuffled his feet to keep his balance. "A bonus from our masters," he said. "I can will myself from point to point."

  "Teleportation."

  "Is that what it's called? Hard on the head, if you ask me." He called up a flowstone stool out of the floor and sat down.

  "What about the army? Why did you leave them?"

  "My army?" he exploded. "Worthless, cowardly cattle! I would have killed them all if I were Eladamri!"

  "You lost your entire army?"

  Crovax's face contorted. "I lost little of value."

  "How many survived? Where are they now?"

  He leaped to his feet. "Who are you to question me?"

  "I am the emissary of the overlords," Belbe said calmly. "I ask you again, where is your army?"

  "Out there." He flung a hand. "We fought a night battle. The rebels started a fire upwind of our position, and many of the soldiers were trapped by the flames."

  "And Eladamri?"

  Crovax's voice was almost inaudible. "He escaped."

  The distant dream machinery near the ceiling clicked and whirred. For some seconds, it was the only thing moving or making noise in the Dream Halls.

  Then Belbe spoke. "You failed."

  The cold, hard edge returned to his voice. "This is only the first round. There are many acts yet to play."

  "A new evincar must be named soon."

  "Then name me! Who else can you choose? Greven? He's been a slave too long to know how to rule."

  "There is another candidate." The flowstone around Belbe heaved like a sea swell. She ignored it, and when it was calm again she said, "I refer to Ertai."

  "That boy? Do the overlords know you're considering that arrogant little cur?"

  "The overlords know everything I do," she said stiffly. "Ertai has magical gifts far in excess of anyone else on Rath. His influence over flowstone grows daily."

  "Can he command an army? Can he govern? Can he rule?"

  "Those are questions still unanswered about you, Crovax. As for Ertai, he's intelligent, clever, and has many insights. It was Ertai, for example, who devised the stratagem of taking hostages from the local population to insure they wouldn't lend s
upport to Eladamri's rebels."

  Crovax broke into an awful, face splitting grin. "Hostages? What a delightful idea. I give the pup credit." He walked a slow circle around Belbe, close enough for her to feel his cold breath on her face. "How many hostages?"

  "A thousand." Why she gave him the wrong figure, she didn't know.

  "Where are they?"

  "The ruins outside of the City of Traitors."

  He stopped his perambulation directly behind her. "I see. Thank you, Excellency."

  "For what?"

  "For restoring my faith in the wisdom of our masters," he said. Cool fingertips brushed the back of her neck. "But hear me, girl. I will be Evincar of Rath."

  "Are you threatening me, Crovax?"

  The fingers were withdrawn. "Certainly not, Excellency. I merely pledge to do my utmost for the cause. You do your best for the overlords, don't you?"

  "I do the task I was made for."

  He suddenly enfolded her from behind in his powerful arms, one around her waist, the other around her neck. In a split-second decision, Belbe decided not to struggle but remained as relaxed as possible.

  "We're allies after all," he said softly in her ear. "Cooperation can be as satisfying as competition-with the right company."

  "I'm here to choose the best person for the job, whoever that is." Belbe still didn't move.

  "No emotion involved?" Crovax asked.

  "Emotion is not efficient."

  Crovax tightened his grip.

  "You can't overpower me, Crovax."

  "I wouldn't dream of trying, Excellency." He dropped his arms, and Belbe stepped away. Adrenaline coursed through her. She felt like a coiled spring, all wound up. Crovax appeared quite calm.

  "I want a full report on the battle in writing, detailing your losses, Eladamri's tactics, and the state of the army," Belbe said, inwardly shaking with excitement. She kept thinking about what it would be like to break Crovax's arms and legs. She knew just how to do it, even through his armor.

  "As you wish. When shall I present my report?"