"I hope I am, too," he sighed, then shook himself.

"I know you'll feel better, son, if you wait to hear Chief Sword Threbuch's report before you head for home with Magister Kelbryan and the prisoners. I'll arrange quarters for all four of you, apart from the rest of the men."

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that." Jasak met Klian's eyes levelly once more. "In fact, for the record, Sir, I'd like to officially inform you that Shaylar and Jathmar are my shardonai."

Klian stiffened-not in anger or outrage, but in dismay.

"Are you sure about that, Hundred?" he asked very quietly.

"Yes, Sir. I am," Jasak replied firmly, and Klian closed his mouth on what he'd been about to say.

The last thing this boy needed, duke's son or no, was to throw himself into the sort of catfight this was going to be. Klian didn't like to think about what was going to happen to Shaylar and Jathmar once higher authority got its hands on them. The military was going to be bad enough; the politicians and the internal security forces were going to be a nightmare. Given what was already hanging over Jasak's head, not to mention the inevitable tribunal, throwing himself between his prisoners and the entire Arcanan military and political establishment would be suicidal for his career. The five hundred couldn't conceive of any other possible consequence for his actions.

But when he looked into Jasak Olderhan's eyes, he knew the hundred didn't need him to explain that.

"Very well, Hundred Olderhan," he said instead, his tone formal. "I accept your declaration of shardon, and I will so attest, both in my dispatches and in your travel orders."

"Thank you, Sir," Jasak said, very sincerely. Klian wasn't obligated to do that, and by choosing to do so, anyway, the five hundred was putting himself in a position to be thoroughly splashed when the shit inevitably hit the fan. But his attestation, especially as part of Jasak's travel orders, which would go wherever Jasak went, would constitute a formal tripwire against . . . overzealous superiors.

"It's the least I can do for a young fellow who seems intent on pissing everybody off," the five hundred replied with a crooked smile. "And in the meantime, I'll post an armed guard outside your quarters, just to be sure no one gets any ideas about retaliating against Jathmar or his wife."

The prisoner's eyes glinted with sharp interest at hearing his name yet again. Klian looked at the man, recognizing his intelligence as well as the discipline which kept his inevitable anxiety in check. Knowing there was a sharp, active brain behind those eyes made his inability to communicate with the other man even more frustrating.

"Jathmar?" the five hundred said, and the prisoner gave him a jerky nod.

"Sarr," Klian said, touching his uniform blouse. "Sarr Klian." He waved his hand, indicating the room, the compound beyond the window. "I command this fort."

He pointed to the palisade walls visible through the window, then pointed at himself again. Jathmar studied him through narrowed eyes for a moment, then gave a slow nod. Clearly he'd already guessed as much.

"You," Klian said, pointing to Jathmar, "will go with Jasak Olderhan."

He pointed to Jasak again and pantomimed walking. Jathmar regarded him suspiciously for a moment, then nodded again. A fraction of the tension gripping him relaxed, but his eyes remained deeply wary. Klian would've given a great deal for the information behind those eyes. As he'd told Jasak, he wasn't at all happy about the decision he'd made; he just didn't see any other decision he liked better. But if more fighting did break out, Sarr Klian was going to be the one in the hot seat, and he was desperately short of information.

"Very well, Hundred." He switched his attention back to Jasak. "I'll make arrangements for those quarters immediately. Take him back to the infirmary for now. Let him sit with his wife until your accommodations are ready."

"Yes, Sir."

"And, Hundred Olderhan," Klian continued, standing and offering the younger officer his hand, "good luck. You deserve it . . . and you're going to need it."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you."

Jasak shook the proffered hand firmly, and Klian watched him leave with his prisoner. Then the five hundred sat back down behind his roughhewn desk and discovered he'd developed a raging headache.

Now there's a surprise, he thought with harsh humor, and then he got grimly to work.

Chapter Seventeen.

Darcel Kinlafia stood moodily in the chill, rapidly falling evening under the mighty trees and tried not to look sullen.

It wasn't easy, not even when he knew all the reasons for the delay. Not even when his intellect approved of most of the reasons. For that matter, not even-or, perhaps, especially-when the delay was at least partly his own fault for insisting upon accompanying Acting Platoon-Captain Arthag's expedition in the first place.

Patience, he told the hunger coiling within him. Patience, they're here now.

And it was a damned good thing they were, too, he reflected, watching the head of the column.

The horsemen and their mounts looked exhausted, as well they might, given how hard they'd pushed themselves over the past five days. Kinlafia grimaced and walked across as Platoon-Captain Arthag looked up from his mess kit, then stood.

The column halted, and the man riding at its head beside the standard-bearer with the dove-tailed company guidon, embroidered with the three copper-colored cavalry sabers which denoted its place within its parent battalion, looked around. Kinlafia had never actually met him, but he recognized Company-Captain chan Tesh without any trouble, and the dark-skinned petty-captain beside him had to be Rokam Traygan. The fact that Darcel had seen chan Tesh's face through Traygan's eyes without ever seeing Traygan's was one of those oddities Voices quickly became accustomed to.

Chan Tesh's searching eyes found Arthag, and the Arpathian officer waited until the company-captain had dismounted before he saluted.

"Acting Platoon-Captain Arthag," he said crisply.

"Company-Captain chan Tesh," chan Tesh replied. The newly arrived cavalry officer looked almost Shurkhali, but he was a Ternathian, with an accent which sounded so much like Ghartoun chan Hagrahyl that Darcel winced. Chan Tesh's voice even had the same timbre.

"I'm glad to see you, Company-Captain," Arthag said.

Chan Tesh studied his face for a moment in the rapidly failing light. Kinlafia wondered if he was looking for any indication that Arthag actually resented his arrival. After all, chan Tesh's superior rank gave him command, which also meant his name was undoubtedly the one going into the history books. And his impending arrival had effectively nailed Arthag's feet to the forest floor, preventing the Arpathian from acting until chan Tesh got there. But if the Ternathian had anticipated any resentment from Arthag, what he saw in the other officer's expression clearly reassured him, because he smiled wearily.

"We're glad to be here, Platoon-Captain," he said. "Not least because our arses need the rest!"

"I think we can provide more than just a rest, Company-Captain," Hulmok Arthag said. "My people have a hot meal waiting for you."

"Now that, Platoon-Captain, is really good news," chan Tesh said. "I think my backbone's about ready to start gnawing on my belt buckle from the back!"

It was a humorous exaggeration, but not that much of one, chan Tesh reflected. He and his column had been just over twenty miles from the entry portal to New Uromath when the stunning news reached them. Chan Tesh was willing to admit privately that he hadn't been pushing the pace at that point, since he'd expected to relieve Company-Captain Halifu on routine garrison duty and hadn't really been looking forward to taking over Halifu's rain-soaked portal fort. The Uromathian company-captain's reports had made it abundantly clear just how soggy chan Tesh's new duty post was likely to be.

But word of the mysterious strangers who'd slaughtered the Chalgyn Consortium survey crew had changed all of that. Chan Tesh had quickly reorganized the transport column, leaving the infantry and the majority of the support troops, including his half-dozen field guns, with his executive officer while chan Tesh himself took a hard core of mounted troops ahead as quickly as he could. Over the last five days, he and his relief force had covered almost three hundred miles, most of it through dense, rainy forest. If it hadn't been the worst five-day ride of Balkan chan Tesh's life, it had to come close.

But we're here now, he thought grimly. And if Arthag's report's as accurate as his reports've always been in the past, the bastards on the other side of that swamp portal aren't going to be a bit happy about that!

He looked over his shoulder as the rest of the column came in. He was proud of those men. Tired as they were, weary as their mounts were, there'd been no straggling. These were mostly veterans, who didn't worry about parade-ground precision, but the column was well ordered and well closed up.

Chan Tesh's own cavalry company-Copper Company, First Battalion, Ninth Regiment, Portal Authority Armed Forces-led the column. He'd left one of his three platoons with his XO, and Copper Company had been a bit understrength to begin with, but he still had eighty-five experienced, hardened troopers. Then there were the two platoons of Imperial Ternathian Marines.

Most nations' marines were straight leg-infantry-not surprisingly, since marines were supposed to spend most of their time in shipboard service. Ternathian Marines were a rather special case, however. They prided themselves on their ability to go anywhere and do anything their orders required, and they'd been a mainstay of the Portal Authority's multinational forces for over half a century. There were those in the Ternathian Army who were firmly convinced that what had really happened was that the Marines had hijacked a lion's share of the Ternathian commitment to the Portal Authority purely as a means of preventing the Imperial Marine Corps' demise, and chan Tesh rather suspected that those critics had at least a semi-valid point. Certainly there'd been an ongoing struggle for the military budget between the Imperial Marines and Imperial Army for as long as anyone could remember. The Navy, of course, had always stood by and watched the squabble with a sort of amused tolerance. No one was going to suggest funding land troops at the expense of the Imperial Navy, after all.

But whatever the Marines' motives might have been, they'd succeeded in carving out a special niche in trans-universal operations. They did more of it than anyone else, and as they were wont to point out, they also, quite simply, did it better than anyone else. Despite his own Army career, chan Tesh couldn't argue about that. They still couldn't match the staying power and sheer, concentrated offensive punch of the Ternathian Army-they were light infantry, after all-but they had developed an almost incredible flexibility and took a deep (and well-deserved) pride in their adaptability. Which was why chan Tesh had left his Army infantry behind and brought his Marines along; they were just as competent in the saddle as they were on foot.

Unlike the cavalry troopers of chan Tesh's own company, or Arthag's, the Marines wore their normal Ternathian-issue battle dress. It was a comfortable uniform, with lots of baggy, conveniently placed cargo pockets. It was also dyed a low-visibility khaki color. Marines might be willing to ride to work, but they were still infantry-dragoons, at least-and they preferred to fight on foot. Whereas a cavalryman usually found it a bit difficult to conceal his horse, Marines were adept at using terrain and concealment.

And it's damned comforting to have them along, chan Tesh thought frankly. Again, they were a bit under establishment. Their nominal troop strength should have been two hundred and sixteen men, including officers and supports. Their actual strength was only a hundred and fifty-seven, but they more than made up for any lost firepower with the machine-gun squad attached to each platoon.

"I hope you'll pardon my saying so, Sir, but it looks like you came loaded for bear."

Chan Tesh turned back to Acting Platoon-Captain Arthag as the other man spoke.

"It seemed like the thing to do," the company-captain said, with a mildness which fooled neither of them.

"Can't argue with that, Sir," Arthag said grimly, and chan Tesh studied the man thoughtfully again for a moment or two.

Hulmok Arthag had a high reputation among the Portal Authority's military personnel, despite his relatively junior rank. Chan Tesh suspected that the Arpathian would have been promoted long since if his positive genius for small-unit operations along the frontier hadn't made him too valuable where he was to spare. Arpathians as a group tended to be good at that sort of thing, but Arthag was a special case, with an absolutely fiendish ability to get inside the thinking of portal brigands and claim-jumpers. In many ways, the promotion he so amply merited, and which was coming his way at last, was almost a pity. The Portal Authority was eventually going to get a highly competent regiment-captain or brigade captain out of it, but it was going to give up a truly brilliant platoon-captain to get him.

"I was relieved when they told me you were the man at the sharp end of this stick, Platoon-Captain," chan Tesh said. Arthag's Arpathian expressionlessness didn't even waver, of course. "I've heard good things about you. In fact, I've wanted the chance to work with you for a while now. I'm just sorry it had to come after something like this."

"I am, too, Sir," Arthag replied. He looked into the falling darkness, and chan Tesh felt a slight shiver as he followed the Arpathian's eyes and saw the tangled, seared timber where the survey crew had been massacred.

"To be honest, Sir," Arthag continued, turning back to his superior, "it's been . . . lonely out here. I was relieved when Company-Captain Halifu's dispatch reached me with the news you were on your way."

"I only wish we'd been able to let you know sooner," chan Tesh said, and Arthag's eyes narrowed very slightly.

"Voice Kinlafia's been extremely helpful to my Whiffer and Tracer, Sir," he said, very carefully not so much as glancing in Kinlafia's direction. "His special insight into what happened here's been invaluable in pointing them-and, for that matter, my scouts-in the right direction."

"I wasn't criticizing Voice Kinlafia," chan Tesh said mildly. "If I'd been in Company-Captain Halifu's position, I'd probably have made exactly the same decision. It's just unfortunate that Halifu didn't have another Voice to take up the slack. We had to get within forty miles of his fort before my Flicker could reach him."

Arthag nodded with what might have been the slightest possible trace of reassurance, and chan Tesh hid a grimly amused smile. He didn't doubt for a moment that at least some of the rear-area wonders were going to criticize Halifu for allowing his precious Voice to accompany the rescue force to the wrong side of this universe's entry portal. But, as he'd just said, chan Tesh felt the Uromathian officer had made exactly the right decision. And at least Halifu had two good Flickers of his own. They might not be Voices, but they were capable of teleporting-or "Flicking"-relatively small objects, like dispatch cases, for distances of up to thirty or forty miles. Some Flickers had managed as much as fifty miles, and they were prized by Sharonian military organizations. They might not have the reach or the flexibility of Voices, but they were a damned good substitute over their effective ranges, and there were often decided advantages to transmitting physical messages.

Junior-Armsman Tairsal chan Synarch, chan Tesh's senior Flicker, had managed to get word to Halifu less than twenty-four hours ago, and Petty-Armsman Bantha, Halifu's senior Flicker, had relayed that information to Arthag, in turn. Since chan Tesh and his column had crossed over into this universe, Traygan and Kinlafia had been in close communication, homing chan Tesh unerringly in on Arthag's position and bringing the company-captain fully up to date on everything Arthag's scouts had discovered.

"I'm sorry it took us as long to get here as it did, Platoon-Captain," chan Tesh said after a moment. "The last twenty-five miles to your entry portal were a copperplated bitch. Much worse than I'd anticipated, to be honest."

"I know. I've come to the conclusion that the sun simply isn't allowed to shine in that universe," Arthag replied, and chan Tesh snorted. Whether the Arpathian was right about that, or not, there was no getting around the fact that what appeared to be every creek, stream, rivulet, river, and puddle in New Uromath was well over its banks, which hadn't done a thing for his column's progress.

"At least I had plenty of time to scout the enemy position," Arthag continued. Once again, it could have been a complaint, since the peremptory order for Arthag to stand fast until chan Tesh arrived with his reinforcements had precluded any immediate action on Arthag's part. But it was apparent to chan Tesh that Arthag was sincerely relieved to see the column. The Arpathian's comment about the opportunity to scout the enemy was also well taken, and chan Tesh nodded in forceful agreement.

"Yes. I'm looking forward to seeing your sketches myself."

"Of course, Sir."

Arthag made a signal to one of his troopers, and chan Tesh watched the man in question-a tallish, but not huge, Farnalian with the two red pips of a petty-armsman-respond. It was a pity Arthag hadn't had a Flicker of his own. He'd been able to receive dispatches from Halifu, but he hadn't been able to send his own notes back. Now the petty-armsman marched over, saluted, and produced a leather dispatch case.

"Petty-Armsman Loumas, Sir," Arthag said. "He's my Plotter."

"Ah." Chan Tesh nodded in understanding. Plotters were highly valued in the military. Unlike Mappers, they could provide only limited information on terrain, or what lay under the surface of the ground, but-also unlike Mappers-they were sensitive to the presence and location of living creatures. Like Mappers, they were range-limited, and usually to much shorter ranges than a Mapper. Indeed, it was the rare Plotter who could reach beyond four or five miles. But they were still extremely useful as scouts, since it was impossible for any sentry or picket within their range to conceal himself from them.

"Loumas took our scouts right up to the portal," Arthag continued, opening the dispatch case and removing a carefully executed sketch map. "Chief-Armsman chan Hathas sketched the actual maps. He's out with the advance picket, keeping an eye on them, at the moment."

He handed the map across to chan Tesh, who unfolded it quickly. Darkness had finished falling while he and Arthag were talking, and there was insufficient light to make out details. He started to walk across to one of the campfires, but Loumas produced a bull's-eye lantern and opened the slide, letting its light fall across the map.

"Thank you, Petty-Armsman," chan Tesh said courteously, then bent his full attention to the sketch.

"You didn't pick up any sentries on our side of the portal, Petty-Armsman?" the company-captain continued as he studied the map.

"No, Sir," Loumas replied. "Picked up quite a few deer, and even a couple of bears, but couldn't find hide nor hair of anyone else. Proper idiots they are, if you don't mind my saying so."

"I don't mind at all, Petty-Armsman," chan Tesh said, glancing up from the sketch map. "As long as we all remember that these people can obviously do things we can't. It's possible they have some way of keeping an eye on things that we've never heard of. Maybe they didn't need sentries."

"Yes, Sir," Loumas said just a tiny bit stiffly. Then he grimaced. "Sorry, Company-Captain. It's just seeing what these bastards did, knowing where they are-"

He broke off with a shake of his head, and chan Tesh nodded. Not necessarily in agreement, but in understanding. He'd already seen exactly the same reaction in the men of his own column. The news that a civilian survey crew had been cut down like animals would have been bad enough under any circumstances. The fact that Shaylar Nargra-Kolmayr had been caught in the middle of it, and that Darcel Kinlafia hadn't been able to pick up even a whisper of her Voice since, made it much, much worse. His men wanted payback, and, to be completely honest, so did chan Tesh.

The company-captain returned his attention to the sketch and shook his head mentally as he absorbed the details.

Maybe I was just a bit hasty there, he thought as he studied the drawing. If this sketch is as accurate as I think it is, then Loumas damned well has a point about what these people use for brains!

"You say your chief-armsman made the sketch?" he asked Arthag, never looking up from the map.

"Yes, Sir." Something about Arthag's voice made chan Tesh look up. The Arpathian acting platoon-captain was actually grinning, and chan Tesh raised one eyebrow.

"Chief-Armsman chan Hathas is a much better sketcher than I am, Sir. When Loumas and his scouting party got back and described what they'd seen, I decided I needed to take a look for myself. I did, but I didn't feel my own artistic abilities could do justice to it, so I got the chief-armsman to do the job. As nearly as I can tell you from my own observation, he got the details just about perfect."

"Vothan," chan Tesh muttered. "Maybe they really are all idiots."

Whoever was in command on the other side clearly wasn't very well versed in portal tactics. To be fair, portals-even relatively small ones like the one on the map in chan Tesh's hands-were always difficult to defend. The bizarre physics involved made that inevitable. On the other hand, there were intelligent ways to go about defending one, and then there was . . . this.

The chief-armsman had sketched the portal from both aspects, which the combination of the portal's relatively small size and the other side's failure to picket this side had made much simpler for him to do. And from the sketch, it appeared that the opposing commander was either terminally overconfident or else incredibly stupid.

Unless, chan Tesh conscientiously reminded himself, he really does have some kind of god weapon over there.

Which, given the fireballs and lightning bolts he'd already used on the Chalgyn Consortium crew, certainly wasn't impossible. But still . . .

The enemy had thrown up fieldworks-palisades, with what were obviously firing loopholes, protected with shallow earthen berms-to cover both aspects of his side of the portal. Because the portal itself separated them, he'd been forced to dig in two totally separate forces which were hopelessly out of visual contact and support range of one another, despite the fact that they were less than a hundred yards "apart." That much chan Tesh could readily understand, since every portal defender faced the same problem.

But the earthworks themselves puzzled him. They looked like something left over from the days of muzzleloading muskets and smoothbore cannon, he thought, except that they seemed a bit flimsy even for that. He didn't see a single bunker, and it was obvious from chan Hathas' sketch that there were no dugouts, either. In fact, chan Tesh didn't see any overhead cover.

"These ramparts of theirs don't look very . . . substantial," he commented. "You got a good enough look to confirm the berms are really that shallow?"

"Yes, Sir." Arthag shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I think Voice Kinlafia may have come up with an explanation for why everything over there looks so insubstantial."

"Indeed?" Chan Tesh looked up from the sketch once more, turning his attention to the one man in civilian clothing.

He hadn't ignored Kinlafia up to this point out of discourtesy, but rather because the Voice looked so bad. His face was tightly clenched around a mixture of anguish, fury, and gnawing impatience which chan Tesh needed no Talent to recognize. Kinlafia's eyes were like burnt holes in his face, and chan Tesh wondered if the man's jaw muscles had truly relaxed even once since the rest of his crew was butchered. Chan Tesh had no desire to intrude upon the man's obvious pain, but if Kinlafia had a theory to help explain what chan Tesh was seeing in this sketch, he wanted to hear it.

"You have a theory, Voice Kinlafia?" he asked courteously, and Kinlafia nodded. It was a jerky, almost convulsive nod, and his expression was taut as he waved back towards the fallen timber chan Tesh hadn't actually seen yet.

"I'm not sure what they use for 'artillery,' Company-Captain," he said, "but whatever it is, it isn't anything like ours. I know Voice Traygan has relayed Whiffer Parcanthi's and Tracer Hilovar's reports about the odd residues they've picked up to you. We still don't have any sort of explanation for what could have created them, but during the time Voice Nargra-Kolmayr-" his voice went flat and dead for a moment as he used Shaylar Nargra-Kolmayr's formal title, chan Tesh noted "-and I were linked, I Saw their heavy weapons in action. They have a lot of blast effect, and the . . . 'lightning bolts,' for want of a better word, they throw seem to affect targets in a remarkably deep zone. But neither of them seems to have very much in the way of penetrative effect."

"No?" Chan Tesh cocked his head, one eyebrow raised, and Kinlafia shrugged.