*What is it?* came from far away; he could barely hear Ellegon's mental voice.

Then he remembered that the dragon was down at the knacker's, and he shuddered. Even if it was necessary, Karl didn't like the idea of knackers, and the thought of Ellegon dining on the leavings bothered Karl.

*If you become a vegetarian, I may. Bets?*

Karl shook his head, dismissing the subject. Anything really pressing this afternoon?

*Mmm . . . well, there's a triala"that poacher from Arondael. You did want to supervise it, and see how the boy handles it.*

Does Thomen really need me? Or do you think he can solo on this one?

*He can handle ita"I told you, the poacher is guilty. Makes a nice backboard, eh?*

Well . . .

*You will have to show up for sentencing tomorrow. If Thomen doesn't mess up and turn him loose today.*

Okay; then tune me out for the afternoon.

*Humph. Overs.e.xeda"*

Enough.

*Have a nice time.* The dragon was suddenly gone from his mind.

He grabbed a towel and started to dry himself off as he called out, "Hey, Andy?"

"Yes?"

"Are you dressed yet?"

"No . . ."

"You in any real hurry to get dressed?"

"Well . . . no," she answered back, perhaps a bit too coquettishly. "Why?"

"I'm taking the afternoon off."

"Afternoon?"

"You said I deserved a treat, didn't you?"

"I did at that," she said. "Braggart. Afternoon, indeed."

He could hear her grin.

CHAPTER FOUR:.

Home.

When we are planning for posterity, we ought to remember that virtue is not hereditary.

a"Thomas Paine.

Walter saw the distant flash of a telescope several times that morning, which didn't surprise him: He'd seen an occasional rider paralleling their course for days; the nearer they got to Home, the more intense the scrutiny.

He nodded in silent approval and rode on, noticing with some pride that none of the others had caught it. The Home watchers were taking some pains to keep their attention inconspicuous.

Still, by the time Walter, Ahira, and their dwarvish escort reached the top of the ridge overlooking the valley that the elves called Varnath, Walter felt like he'd been thoroughly frisked.

A simple "a.s.sume the position" would have sufficed, guys.

Not that Walter Slovotsky had anything against deviousnessa"in fact, he preferred it, all things being equala"but there was a time for a simple confrontation.

If it'd been his show . . .

Then again, it's not my show. Not anymore. Not even to the extent that it was when he was seconding Karl, back in the old days when they were on a raiding team together.

He didn't yearn for that time, not really. Food was eaten cold, then, for fear that the slavers would see a cooking fire; they had to sleep lightly, remembering the face of a man who hadn't. Those had been days of strain and nights wrenched in fear, all the time hoping, praying, that the next man doomed to fall to the ground, clutching at the crossbow bolt protruding from his mouth, was the next man, not Emma Slovotsky's baby boy.

No, he didn't miss the fighting.

But there had been a certain something to those days, something that the last years just hadn't had. Something hard to put a finger on.

Maybe it was that the heartbeats seemed stronger when you could hear each and every one, Walter decided. That was it.

And he cursed himself for an idiot. "There is an old Chinese curse, 'May you live in interesting times,' " he muttered to himself, before remembering that, after all, foolish consistency was the hobgoblin of little minds.

That made him feel better; Walter Slovotsky didn't want to risk the size of his mind by being unnecessarily consistent.

"There's also an old American saying," Ahira said. "Goes like this: 'People who talk to themselves are a bit loose between the eardrums.' "

Slovotsky dug his heels in a bit deeper and kicked his horse into a half-canter, smiling quietly to himself as the dwarves behind him cursed, spurring their own mounts. Dwarves and horsesa"even well-tempered ponies like Geveren and the rest of their escort were ridinga"were renowned for not getting along.

"You're a mean man, Walter Slovotsky," Ahira said, bouncing along on the back of his animal. He was the only dwarf to ride a full-sized horse, although he and his gray gelding didn't seem to like each other's company particularly well.

Then again, that was Ahira: He always seemed to pick a gray gelding that he didn't get along particularly well with. His swearing at his horse seemed almost as much a part of the dwarf as the clanking of the patched chainmail vest and the huge, double-bladed battleaxe strapped to his saddle.

Nothing ever remains quite the same; there had been a time when Ahira carried a smaller axe, strapping it across his absurdly broad chest. He had traded that axe in on a bigger one, one that was almost the size he was.

"Hey, Walter, doesn't that look likea"" The dwarf's homely face creased in puzzlement, then broke into a broad smile. "It is! Wheeee!"

"Huh?"

"At the customs housea"it is!" Swearing, the dwarf kicked his horse into a full canter.

The oversized log cabin that stood as the Home customs station was only a blur near the horizon to Slovotsky, but Ahira must have seen something. Clearly, it wasn't anything to worry about, or Ahira would have sounded some sort of alarm, but . . .

Slovotsky stood in the saddle and called out to the dwarf who was driving the flatbed wagon.

"Hey, Geveren," he said, putting the accent firmly on the first syllable of the dwarf's name, "I'm going to go catch up with Ahira. Take a little time, if you need toa""

"Just a small amount," Geveren said, a gap-toothed smile peeking through his beard. "Only a short while."

Slovotsky's short jokes didn't bother the dwarves; to them, they were the right height, and humans were stretched vertically, although not as badly as elves.

"a"but you bring the rest in," Slovotsky finished. Then, remembering that none of these dwarves had ever been to Home before, he added, "And be prepared to put up with a thorough inspection at customs without taking offensea"I don't want to hear about your giving the inspectors any trouble."

The dwarf smiled, nodded, and waved; Slovotsky spurred his horse after Ahira.

By the time Slovotsky's mare had gotten herself worked up to a full gallop, they were almost at the customs house. Ahira seemed to be wrestling with some human, while another, holding a flintlock carbine at the ready, looked on.

One hand on a pistol, Slovotsky brought the horse to a quick halt and vaulted out of the saddle, only to see that Ahira was hugging a full-sized human, a boy perhaps fifteen or so; tall and a bit gangly, he awkwardly patted the dwarf's backa"

"Son of a b.i.t.c.ha"Jason Cullinane!" Slovotsky dropped his hand away from the pistol's b.u.t.t, noticing how the guard relaxed only microscopically, only lowering the hammer of his carbine when a strangely familiar metal rattling issued from the interior of the customs house.

A grizzled face leaned out and nodded. "Greetings, Walter Slovotsky and Ahira. You are welcome Home."

"Betcher a.s.s," Slovotsky said, then switched back to Erendra. "That is, I thank you. It's good to be back."

The dwarf released the boy and turned to Walter. "Can you believe how much he's grown? Last time we saw him, he was tiny."

Slovotsky nodded. "d.a.m.n, but he wasn't much taller than this," he said, winking at Jason as he held his hand half a foot above Ahira's head.

"You'll pay for that, Slovotsky," the dwarf said, with patently false menace.

Jason walked over to Walter and held out a hand. "h.e.l.lo, Uncle Walter," he said, perhaps a bit stiffly. The grip was firm, but it was clear that the boy was trying too hard. No problema"he was just growing faster up than outside, and probably faster outside than inside. It looked like he might easily end up as tall as his father; right now, his eyes were almost on Slovotsky's level.

Slovotsky shook his head. "A handshake is just not going to make it, kiddo." He seized Jason in a bear hug, sighing to himself when the boy's returning grip was only perfunctory.

"d.a.m.n, but it's good to see you, boy. How's everyone?" he asked as he let Jason go.

Jason smiled. "Just fine, as of a couple of tendays ago." He pursed his lips for a moment. "I'm sure that Mom and Dad would have wanted me toa""

"Sure, sure, and pa.s.s our best wishes along, when you see them. Which'll be when?"

Jason shrugged. "Another couple tendays. Ellegon's supposed to pick up some supplies here for Daven's team, and pick up Valerana""

Slovotsky smiled. "Val's here? I haven't seen him since we gave your father the crown." A good man to have around in a fight. Or just to drink with.

Jason frowned. "Dad has him baby-sitting me," he said, making it evident that he didn't think he needed any watching. He brightened. "And teaching me swordsmanship, too. In any case, Ellegon's supposed to pick him and Bren anda""

"Bren Adahan? The Holtish baron?"

Jason whistled in irritation at being interrupted again. "Yes, him. Dad has him here, partly to be taught by Lou Riccetti, but mainly to keep an eye on me, like Valeran does." The boy tried to shrug away the notion that he needed watching over. "I don't have to put up with it for much longer. Then Ellegon will pick up Valeran and me on his way out; we're going to be his tenders while he makes a sweep to Ehvenor and then back Home. Now, what are you two doing here?"

Walter tried to smile disarmingly. "Whatsamatter, boyo, aren't you glad to see us?" he asked, trying to change the subject. Jason's was a hard question to answer honestly, and Walter had no intention of doing so.

Anything involving Walter and Ahira's plans to skulk around Pandathaway had to be handled on a need-to-know basis.

Jason didn't.

Walter had no intention of telling Jason that he and Ahira were going to pick up some trade goods to take to Pandathaway to sell while they were trying to dig up word of either what Ahrmin was up to or what Ahrmin thought Karl was up to; if a rumor of intended spying reached Pandathaway, the spies in question might be easily detected.

Which would be hard on the spies.

So Walter Slovotsky broadened his smile and spread his hands. "Just doing a little business, and checking up on Lou. I take ita""

He was interrupted by the same rattling from the customs house. He furrowed his brow, finally noticing the wires strung on poles that led from the building and down the hill and into the valley. "Son of aa""

"Telegraph." Ahira smiled. "He's got a telegraph." He looked over toward Slovotsky. "How's your Morse?"

Slovotsky shook his head. "I just barely was able to learn enough to pound my clumsy way to a beginner's license, and that's more than twenty years ago. You?"

"Not even that close." Ahira lifted his right hand, making it shake. "Remember? I couldn't make a dit different from a dah, much less get up to twenty words per minute."

"And a telegraph means electricitya"coal, you think? Lou used to say that he thought there was a seam of coal up in the hills."

"Could be, could be." Ahira nodded. "I think we'd better have words with the Engineer; he's been keeping secrets."

Jason c.o.c.ked his head to one side. "Excuse me?"

"Secrets, secrets," Ahira said. "I thought Lou was going to tell us about any major advances, and this telegraph isa""

"No, not that. You said that you couldn't learn Morse. It doesn't seem hard."

Ahira's face darkened; Walter stepped in. "You know how your Uncle Ahira used to be a human, on the Other Side?"

"Yes, yes," Jason said, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Well, as a human he had a dysfunction. It's called muscular dystrophya"his muscles didn't work right."

"Oh," the boy said, clearly indifferent.

The idea of a permanent disease wasn't something he could identify with, Walter realized; any member of the upper cla.s.s could afford the services of a good healer, and even a clumsy Spidersect cleric could help someone compensate for disobedient muscle and nerve better than could possibly be done by the most competent physician on the other side.

Some injuries, granted, were permanent, or close to it; Tennetty's eyes, the missing fingers on Karl's left hand, scars from where the body had healed itself imperfectly without benefit of healing draughts.

But muscles not working right? It was foreign to the boy's limited experience. Lucky kid.