"But what if Salokan reaches Haxus before-!"

"Be that as it may," Sendarus interrupted, his voice rising, "my first priority is to secure this city. When I am satisfied that Daavis is safe, we will hunt down Salokan and destroy his army to the last soldier."

Charion put her hands on her hips and looked ready to spit, but she had run out of arguments and insults. Obviously, this upstart prince was not going to let her pursue Salokan-undoubtedly because he wanted all the glory for finishing off the foreign king for himself-nor was he going to let her assert her right to determine events in her own country.

"Very well," she said tightly. "I will await your pleasure. When your lost regiments finally discover how to find this city-ten square leagues in size and sitting astride the continent's widest river-I look forward to once again taking up the war."

She spun on her heel and stalked off before Sendarus could reply. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "I don't think this would be a good time to ask her about billeting," he said.

"That's the truth," Galen said. "I think that went as well as can be expected."

"You've had dealings with her before?"

"Only once. I attended an embassy to her from Usharna; I escorted Berayma.

Berayma was . .. overwhelmed ... by her."

"She would overwhelm a great bear, I think."

They started back to their camp north of the city.

"I haven't had time yet to congratulate you and the knights for your victory over the Haxus regiments south of here. I think it was that which finally convinced Salokan to turn tail. If he had not heard news of your victory, he might well have taken Daavis that morning. Charion will never admit it, of course, but her secretary Farben told me that the city's defenses were not far from collapsing."

"I think I am speaking for all the Twenty Houses when I say we are only too glad to contribute to the security of the kingdom."

"Areava will hear of it, I promise," Sendarus said.Salokan knew he was defeated, but he was not panicking. His army was retreating in good order, not in a rout, and he wanted to keep it that way. He selected his best troops for the rearguard, with clear orders to slow down any pursuit. Over the last eight days there had been some skirmishes with Grenda Lear cavalry, and on two occasions with fast-moving and lightly-armored infantry, but nothing that seriously interfered with the retreat. The problem was that the enemy cavalry and light infantry was not trying to slow down the retreat at this point, but simply to stay in touch so that when the main Grenda Lear army came up, it could go straight for the throat of the Haxus army. He knew that if he wanted to survive long enough to reach his own kingdom- where he had reserves and well-established supply lines-he would have to do something unexpected, something that would throw the enemy off his scent or make them think twice about dogging him so closely.

His troops were tired and demoralized, but they would be considerably more tired and demoralized if the enemy caught them on a field not of their choosing. Thus it was that on the eighth night of their retreat, as soon as the evening meal had been finished, he ordered the army to march on instead of settling down. He pushed them on until midnight, and then, instead of letting them rest, he made each regiment build a rampart from packed earth with two ditches in front, one filled with wooden stakes and the other with their last reserve of cooking oil. The ramparts were not continuous, but built checkerboard so that gaps between the first line were covered by those ramparts making up the second line. Finally he had the ditches and ramparts covered with branches and turf. The work was done by dawn; he let them sleep until noon, then stirred them and made them line the ramparts, with strict orders not to make a sound.

The enemy, who had expected to make contact with the Haxus rearguard by mid-morning-based on the expectation that they themselves had not camped too far from Salokan's forces-found that their quarry was missing. Their commanders panicked and pushed them to catch up. In the early hours of the afternoon they did catch up.

Spectacularly.

The Grenda Lear cavalry hit the hidden defenses first; some tripped in the first ditch, but most of the horses jumped it only to land in the second ditch filled with stakes. The screams and cries of impaled horses and men were dreadful, and when brands were thrown from behind the ramparts into the first ditch, setting alight the oil, the terror of the survivors sent them hurtling carelessly into the Haxus troops waiting behind the ramparts. It was a bloody slaughter.

Dazed, unsure what had happened to their mounted comrades, the light infantry hesitated. Salokan ordered his own cavalry to charge. The Grenda Lear infantry, tired and shaken, were virtually wiped out. A few managed to flee, but Salokan knew he had no time to waste in fruitless pursuit and ordered his troops to resume their march north; it had been a long day for them, but invigorated by their victory they complained not at all.

"How many?" Sendarus asked as he strode to his horse, strapping on his sword belt.

An early morning mist whirled about his feet, but a bright sun was already burning it away.

"Four companies of our horse, almost all our light infantry," Galen said. "How far behind are our heavy infantry?"

"At least another day. The remainder of our cavalry, including all your knights, and all our archers are here; that will have to do.""Do we march north, then?"

"We have no choice. We don't know what Salokan is planning. Maybe he received reinforcements and is on his way back. In its present state Daavis could not withstand another siege. We have to stop him before he gets here." An orderly hurried up with his chain shirt and helmet. "Choose a messenger, Galen, and give him three horses. He has to reach our regiments of spear by midday. Tell them to follow us at double pace."

"They'll be exhausted and almost useless if they have to fight straight away."

"Nonetheless, I want them with us, even if only as a reserve. Salokan will think twice about using his own cavalry if he sees a few thousand spears pointing in his direction."

Galen nodded and left. Sendarus finished dressing and mounted his horse.

"You wouldn't be leaving without me, would you?"

It was the last voice he wanted to hear at that moment. "Your Highness, you're up early. Word travels quickly."

"Word of disaster always travels quickly," Charion said levelly. She was dressed in full armor and mounted on a hack, not her usual ceremonial pony. "Are you aware that in the whole campaign so far, the only serious loss we've suffered has been the destruction of your cavalry and light infantry?"

"Only four companies of horse, your Highness," he said between his teeth. He could imagine the message she would already have sent to Areava by carrier bird. He would have to send one of his own to put things in the proper perspective.

Which is? he asked himself. Remember, you rescued Daavis. That's the most important thing.

"I still have four regiments, including three of the knights," he told her.

"I can give you another regiment, plus two regiments of infantry."

"What does that leave you to protect the city?"

"Most of my archers, and a goodly number of swordsmen."

Sendarus wanted to tell her what she could do with her offer, but bit his tongue. Any extra troops at this point would be welcome, and another regiment of horse would bring his cavalry back up to full strength.

"Thank you. I accept."

"And I will lead them myself," she added.

Sendarus glared at her, but she did not look away.

"That's the price," she said.

"You will be under my command," he said.

"Of course. You wear the Key of the Sword. Galen Amptra explained the situation to me very clearly yesterday. Do you agree?"

Sendarus could not say the word, but nodded.

"Good. My troops will be ready in an hour."

"We leave in half an hour," he said and wheeled his horse away from her.

Salokan's generals, their confidence boosted by their recent victory, urged him to turnback.

"We've proven we can take on and defeat Areava's army. Let's finish the job and take Daavis."

But Salokan did not listen to them. He understood the difference between winning a skirmish and winning a battle. He also understood that even if he met Areava's main force and defeated it, his own army would probably be so damaged it would not be fit to start another siege or execute a successful city assault. He had already swallowed his pride.

Besides, if Grenda Lear tried to invade Haxus in retaliation for his invasion, he thought he had a better than even chance of beating them back, and then the option of returning to Hume with a fresh army would be a real possibility. An autumn campaign held the advantage of leaving a winter between any counter move from Kendra. Maybe he should have thought of that before starting his late winter offensive.

Well, I lose and learn, he told himself. Unlike his father, who lost and then lost again.

Whatever happened, he was not going to do that.

Chapter 28.

Father Powl was in the primate's chambers- his chambers, he constantly reminded himself-kneeling at his prayer stool. His eyes were closed and his mind scurried like a cockroach through all his memories of Giros Northam, all the words he had ever spoken, all the lessons he had ever imparted, all the clues he had hinted at about the greatest secret of their religion.

"God has a name," Northam had once told him, "and the name is everything that God can be."

And another time he had told Powl, "A single word reveals all there is to know about God."

So the name of God is a single word?

His gripped his hands so tightly together the fingers were pinched white, and he prayed so fiercely the veins in his temples stood out like tracery in a stained-glass window.

"One secret, Lord, is all I ask," he prayed. "One secret to show me all your wonder.

One secret to let me carry on your work. All these years I have been your faithful servant."

He waited for a voice, a whisper, a sign, anything at all that would point him in the right direction, but all he heard was the silence of his own great sin.

"Oh, Lord, I am a weak man, I confess. But I would be strong for you if only you would let me."

He tried to picture in his mind what God would be like. When he was a callow youth, God had come to him so many times in his dreams his face was more familiar than those of his fellow novitiates. Why now, when he was temporal head of God's own religion, was his face turned away from him? Was his sin that great?

"Show me your face, God, so that I may call you by your name."

And an answer came so suddenly his eyes opened in surprise. "When you call me bymy name, you will see my face."

The voice had been his own.

Dejanus pinned down Ikanus' arms as he thrust into her. He did not look into her face, but stared straight ahead. The woman grunted underneath his weight, and he wondered if it was in pleasure or in pain. She never said, but accepted him like the whore she was.

When he came, he collapsed on top of her, panting like a dog after a chase. Ikanus slid out from underneath him and quickly dressed.

"What's the hurry?" he asked.

"I am still on shift."

"The landlord won't mind. He knows who I am."

Ikanus did not answer, but hurriedly left the small room on the first floor of the Lost Sailor Tavern that the landlord had set aside for just such meetings.

After he caught his breath, Dejanus sat up and took a long swig from the flagon he had left on the floor. It occurred to him that Ikanus did not like him very much. Well, it did not matter, as long as she kept her mouth shut and her legs open. He grinned at that.

Oh, you're a clever prick, he thought to himself.

He lay back down on the bed and finished drinking the wine.

Father Powl pulled out On the Body of God from the bookshelf by his bed. He had been through it a dozen times in the last few months. He carefully turned each page, scanning for any mark, any sign, that Northam may have left and that he had missed. He did not read the words, the words meant nothing to him anymore, but he hoped there was some meaning in the book itself, in the way it was set out or designed-in a misplaced curlicue or a hanging sentence or an odd illustration.

Please, God, let me find the sign.

He finished the book and threw it aside, and from the shelf got The Meditations of Agostin. This was a much larger book, but he scrutinized each page minutely. When he was finished with that, he went through The Seven Penances of a Great Sinner, and then the life of Margolayus, the first primate, and every other book that Northam had thought special enough to keep in his own chambers.

Occasionally, he did come across a marginal note in Northam's hand, usually next to some underlined phrase in the text, but in every case it was nothing more than some pitiful revelation, like Now I understand! or See Seven Penances part the first or even Remember this!

At one point he had listed all the marginalia and the underlined phrases, thinking there may have been some code hidden in them, but in the end he knew they were just what they seemed, trite observations from a lazy meditation.

Oh, Giros, I never knew your mind was so small. How I remember looking upon you as the wisest of the wise.

He hurled the last book across the chamber in anger. He placed his head in his hands, filled with self-pity. He wanted to burst into tears, but knew he could not cry. He had not cried for so long he did not think he knew how anymore.He remembered seeing tears in Northam's eyes on more than one occasion. The old primate had a strong empathy for those who suffered.

Not so wise, perhaps, Powl thought. But a good man. And suddenly he wondered if he himself was either wise or good.

He heard hurried footsteps outside, and someone knocked on his door.

"Yes, what is it?"

The priest from the hospice entered, opened his mouth to say something, but then saw the books strewn all over the room.

"What is it?" Powl repeated testily.

"Your Grace, you wanted to know when next Prince Olio came to the hospice. He is there now, and treating one of the patients."

"Which patient?"

"A young man who was beaten in a robbery two days ago. He is dying."

Powl scowled. He did not want to be bothered with this right now, but knew it might be days or even weeks before the prince visited the hospice again.

"Was the prelate with him?"

The priest shook his head. "But his Highness said he would wait for him before starting the healing. Your Grace, I have to get back. Will you come with me?"

"I will come with you," Powl said.

Olio stood over the unconscious man. He could not believe someone could have been bashed so badly and still be alive. The nose was broken, the eyes swollen and black, one cheek fractured, the jaw broken. Olio lifted the sheet and saw that one rib was ridging the skin at an odd angle. The man breathed in spasms, which meant another rib had probably pierced a lung.

Olio stood back, peered out the room's window. Come on, Edaytor, where are you?

This one is dying; he needs us.