complained.
"You expected them to put up with us forever?" Ro-gala snapped. "Of course they're starting to come back at us."
The youth studied the encampment they were scouting. It was the third they had approached. "We can't take this one either." The guards were numerous and alert.
"We'll try another one." Rogala sounded grim. He was determined to attack. His enemies were not cooperating.
The tale was the same everywhere. Ahlert's people were waiting.
"All right," Rogala grouched, "if you won't play out here, we'll just rag your main camp. You won't be looking for us there."
"Are you crazy? You don't go whacking a hornet's nest with a stick."
An hour later, as they stole nearer Katich and the vast Ventimiglian encampment facing the capital, Rogala yielded to Gathrid's incessant importunities. "All right!" he snarled. And muttered, "Gutless children." He led the way in a long arc around the city, growing sourer by the mile.
Sunrise found them departing desolation for more hospitable countryside north of the Gudermuther capital. An hour later they were hidden in a wood.
"Get some sleep," Rogala said as Gathrid consumed the last of a cold breakfast. "Pretty soon we won't get much chance."
Gathrid needed no more encouragement.
Shouts and the clash of arms wakened him shortly after noon. At first he thought them part of his dreams. When not being stalked by the slain Toal, he relived fragments of the pasts of Daubendiek's victims.
The noise continued after he opened his eyes. He looked for Rogala. The dwarf and his horse had vanished.
Was Theis in trouble?
The racket came from beyond a low rise west of the thicket where they had concealed their encampment. Keeping low, Gathrid scurried to the crest.
Ventimiglian and Gudermuther infantry were locked in a death struggle on the far side. The outcome was beyond doubt. There were fifteen Ventimiglians, only eight Gudermuthers. Men from both companies lay dead or wounded. It looked like the culmination of a hunt for fugitives from some battle already fought. A Ventimiglian junior officer, mounted, watched boredly from a safe distance.
Gathrid withdrew, ran to camp, cinched his recently stolen saddle, mounted, returned-and at the crest, after having revealed himself, had second thoughts. He halted. All eyes turned his way.
The officer drew his sword, spurred his mount in the youth's direction.
Gathrid drew Daubendiek.
He had no idea what the combatants saw. Whatever, they fled, the officer outdistancing them all.
Gathrid slew one Ventimiglian, regretted it immediately. There had been no need. He had accomplished his purpose by scattering the fighters.
He fretted all afternoon. Where was Rogala? Why didn't he show up? What would happen now?
The dwarf sensed trouble the instant he arrived. "What happened?''
Gathrid explained.
"Should've stayed out of it, boy. Now they don't just suspect, they know. Plenty of witnesses. You think we were on the run before, you haven't seen anything." "They were my people."
"You'll learn. You're the Swordbearer. You don't have any people now. You have Daubendiek, Theis Rogala, Suchara and Death."
Just what Tureck Aarant had had. And Suchara promised nothing in return. "But. ..."
"You'll learn. Come on. We've got to get moving. They're probably closing in already."
They were. The first time the pair approached the edge of the wood, near where they had entered, they found a Ventimiglian battalion preparing to sweep through. The ensign of a sorcerer-general accompanied the unit standard.
"Bad," Rogala muttered. "He spots us, our only hope is to outrun them. And that'll be impossible if he's in touch with the others. Better put your scruples away, boy, and get ready for a fights A
real fight this time." "What's wrong with scruples, Theis? They ..." "Because you'd be the only one at the party with them. They're going to get you hurt if you don't turn loose." The dwarf wheeled, led the way to another verge. The enemy had not yet
"You expected them to put up with us forever?" Ro-gala snapped. "Of course they're starting to come back at us."
The youth studied the encampment they were scouting. It was the third they had approached. "We can't take this one either." The guards were numerous and alert.
"We'll try another one." Rogala sounded grim. He was determined to attack. His enemies were not cooperating.
The tale was the same everywhere. Ahlert's people were waiting.
"All right," Rogala grouched, "if you won't play out here, we'll just rag your main camp. You won't be looking for us there."
"Are you crazy? You don't go whacking a hornet's nest with a stick."
An hour later, as they stole nearer Katich and the vast Ventimiglian encampment facing the capital, Rogala yielded to Gathrid's incessant importunities. "All right!" he snarled. And muttered, "Gutless children." He led the way in a long arc around the city, growing sourer by the mile.
Sunrise found them departing desolation for more hospitable countryside north of the Gudermuther capital. An hour later they were hidden in a wood.
"Get some sleep," Rogala said as Gathrid consumed the last of a cold breakfast. "Pretty soon we won't get much chance."
Gathrid needed no more encouragement.
Shouts and the clash of arms wakened him shortly after noon. At first he thought them part of his dreams. When not being stalked by the slain Toal, he relived fragments of the pasts of Daubendiek's victims.
The noise continued after he opened his eyes. He looked for Rogala. The dwarf and his horse had vanished.
Was Theis in trouble?
The racket came from beyond a low rise west of the thicket where they had concealed their encampment. Keeping low, Gathrid scurried to the crest.
Ventimiglian and Gudermuther infantry were locked in a death struggle on the far side. The outcome was beyond doubt. There were fifteen Ventimiglians, only eight Gudermuthers. Men from both companies lay dead or wounded. It looked like the culmination of a hunt for fugitives from some battle already fought. A Ventimiglian junior officer, mounted, watched boredly from a safe distance.
Gathrid withdrew, ran to camp, cinched his recently stolen saddle, mounted, returned-and at the crest, after having revealed himself, had second thoughts. He halted. All eyes turned his way.
The officer drew his sword, spurred his mount in the youth's direction.
Gathrid drew Daubendiek.
He had no idea what the combatants saw. Whatever, they fled, the officer outdistancing them all.
Gathrid slew one Ventimiglian, regretted it immediately. There had been no need. He had accomplished his purpose by scattering the fighters.
He fretted all afternoon. Where was Rogala? Why didn't he show up? What would happen now?
The dwarf sensed trouble the instant he arrived. "What happened?''
Gathrid explained.
"Should've stayed out of it, boy. Now they don't just suspect, they know. Plenty of witnesses. You think we were on the run before, you haven't seen anything." "They were my people."
"You'll learn. You're the Swordbearer. You don't have any people now. You have Daubendiek, Theis Rogala, Suchara and Death."
Just what Tureck Aarant had had. And Suchara promised nothing in return. "But. ..."
"You'll learn. Come on. We've got to get moving. They're probably closing in already."
They were. The first time the pair approached the edge of the wood, near where they had entered, they found a Ventimiglian battalion preparing to sweep through. The ensign of a sorcerer-general accompanied the unit standard.
"Bad," Rogala muttered. "He spots us, our only hope is to outrun them. And that'll be impossible if he's in touch with the others. Better put your scruples away, boy, and get ready for a fights A
real fight this time." "What's wrong with scruples, Theis? They ..." "Because you'd be the only one at the party with them. They're going to get you hurt if you don't turn loose." The dwarf wheeled, led the way to another verge. The enemy had not yet
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