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Naghan the Mighty, and Larghos the Magnificent. What his real name might be, no one knew. That, then, is the reason I have not given his name before in this narrative. But now we were closing in, and the time for names was either approaching or was past.
    Northwest of Erstveheim in a kind of slice of the coast lies the vadvarate of Venga.
    Well, now. Venga. The Vadnicha of the place, Ashti Melekhi, had long since taken her way to the Ice Floes of Sicce. I wondered how she fared there, and if the fates that draw their harp strings into the long moaning sounds of destiny had yet passed her through to the sunny uplands beyond.
    We had to send a force into Venga, that was clear.
    I had negated the idea of splitting the Eighth Army into a drive northward into Evir as well as our eastward push to link with Seg and Drak.
    Still, Venga would lie at our backs as we pressed on east. In the end a Corps was formed and sent off under the command of Chuktar Modo Na-Du, a Pachak of immense competence from Zamra. We were by those divisions weaker; but now that Vallia had, all but these northern provinces, been re-united, we had reinforcements coming in gratifyingly often.
    Later on as we sat around the campfire after we’d visited the wounded and sung a few songs with the swods, Delia said to me, “You were hard on poor Marion.”
    “You think so? I am not sure. She was mighty proud of her girls.”
    “Yes. She gloried that they were part of the emperor’s jurukker jikai.”
    “You know how itchy I get when I see girls in battle—”
    “I do know.” She put her hand on my hand, and I curled my fingers and held hers. “You’re a funny old stick, particularly one who is an emperor. Y’know, Dray, we ought to have had Jilian form the guard Jikai Vuvushis.”
    “I would have liked that. Jilian Sweet Tooth. I wonder where she is now and what deviltry she’s up to.”
    “She has her mission in life.”
    “Aye.”
    Jilian was an old comrade. You may spell her name Sweet Tooth or Sweetooth, I gathered, either being correct. I believe I preferred the former.
    Over our heads the glittering majesty of the stars of Kregen flashed and twinkled in their massed glory. Up here in the north of Vallia the nights grew frosty. The fourth Moon of Kregen, She of the Veils, cast down her golden-roseate light. All about us rose the sounds of an army encampment at night. The sentries patrolled. I lay back.
    “The quicker we meet up with Seg and Drak the better.”
    “We will, my heart, we will. And then?”
    “So much to do—”
    “There always is. Drak and Silda’s wedding, for a start.”
    “Don’t remind me.”
    For a space we were silent, relishing the night.
    Then Delia said, “This Nath the Greatest Ever may form up to challenge us again on Losobrin’s Edge, or he may throw himself into the town of Erdensmot and defy us there.”
    I made a face. “Neither prospect charms me. I have no desire to charge up against the entrenchments he can arrange on Losobrin’s Edge. I’m told the place is formidable. But then, a siege of Erdensmot will not be pretty.”
    “If we march around him—”
    I know I sounded fretful. “If only Farris could scrape up some more fliers for us!”
    “One would have thought,” said Delia with some acerbity, “that now Hamal is safe they would be able to build as many vollers as were required.”
    “There is continual trouble over by the Mountains of the West, as we know. I suppose that’s it. Anyway, we continue to build vorlcas; but wood is getting to be a problem now.”
    “The Singing Forests grow wood enough, for the sake of Opaz!”
    “Aye. We will have to establish vorlca yards there. And, my heart, you will notice how cleverly I am leaving all the appointments of new nobility to Drak? There are many provinces at present ruled by our justicars. Once the wars are over, we must find good faithful folk to be made up to nobles.”
    Delia gave me a calculating look. “Old Nath Ulverswan was the Kov