Jocasta busied herself about the kitchen, warming a stew and a loaf of bread by the oven.

"Sheo, Kerral, Yebratt, Larner, Hettar, Lentro, Gatren, Ferrian, and Ormal," I named them all. Sheo is lost to us. Ferrian is crazy, a fanatic. Ormal is afraid but obedient." I paused. "Gatren I'm not sure about. I was told he had gone over, but I have no sure proof; either way he is not to be trusted." I had started thinking about the others and took a drink. "The rest I don't know. Alive or dead. If alive they belong to him."

"Who?"

I blinked stupidly. It hadn't occurred to me they didn't know. "Kukran Epthel."

They looked at each other, then at me. I looked back. "Never mind. He's from the north." Of all the things I could have said about him that was the most ba.n.a.l. What did it matter where he was from?

"You're sure?" Sapphire sounded interested.

"Of that? No, not really. That's he's a lich, of that I'm sure. And a priest of some kind."

"A necromancer?" He asked.

I looked at him, held his eyes. "You knew?" It really wasn't a question.

He didn't say anything. Just looked back at me, steady as iron.

So, he'd known. I let it go. "How did you survive?"

"I left the fort."

"Why?"

"I had no reason to be there."

"So, got a letter for me that covers this?"

He shook his head once, expressionless.

Jocasta had turned away from her cooking and was watching us. "I'm missing something. What is it it between you two and why didn't you tell me about it?" This last was addressed to Sapphire.

I sipped my beer. It was beginning to work. I felt better. Sapphire hadn't said anything, so I did. "He works for my father. A spy, a.s.sa.s.sin, whatever. He's good with a sword. And I don't mean just better than average. He has orders. One of them is not to tell me anything about what he is doing or why, but I can guess some of it. Did anyone else survive?"

Jocasta shook her head and looked at Sapphire for an answer.

"No."

I thought about that for a while. It was what I had been expecting but it still stung. Faces started to float into my mind, faces and names, and memories. I'd liked some of these people, hoped to know them for a long time. Imagined them rising with me and being reliable allies through to my later years. Yebratt Shaheel. Rastrian Bacht. Pakat, Geheran, Luk and Gobin, who were my first command. I had failed them and I knew it. The beer didn't help but I sipped it anyway, drink enough of it and the memories would go away but I didn't want that, I needed to face everything that needed dealing with. Now there would be no rise to power. I had failed spectacularly. No money, no scrip, and the news of my failure would have reached the city a day or two after the battle. No one would follow me, or back me, or loan money to me in the expectation that I would win battles. I would be prosecuted for raising troops without authority, now that Tulian was dead. There would be no happy homecoming for me, no triumphant return. The future looked bleak, even if I succeeded in getting out of here, even if I made it home.

No one said anything. Maybe there was something in my eyes that told them not to. After a while Jocasta put a hot meal in front of me. It tasted like ashes in my mouth but I forced some down. Not much of it, as I'd predicted.

"What happened to Orthand and his legion? What are they saying in the city?"

Jocasta had taken a seat and watched me pick at the food. "He took a beating, but retreated in good order. Last we know he had retreated again, to Neerthan. The defeats caused a bit of a stir in the city. Legions are being raised by Latandin Keshil Herrap, the patron of Wherrel, and Hadrin Ichal Merindis, patron of the Geduri. I would guess Orthand is recruiting and I know the King of Wherrel is gathering forces at his patron's order. There will be armies enough to defeat this threat."

I hoped so. Nodding thoughtfully, I gazed into the dregs of my beer. "I hope so." I looked up at Sapphire. "I don't suppose you will tell me what is happening in the north?"

"We heard rumors."

That's it? I felt like saying. That's all you are going to tell me? But I couldn't muster the effort nor see a single reason why he should tell me more. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, I advised myself. Think. Say that that is done, say the armies raised are enough to crush them and set things back in order, although I was having some thoughts on that, which for now I was trying not to conceptualize. What then? It didn't seem the right time to open a new can of worms. My thoughts were disjointed, nebulous and there were more important things.

"We have to get you out of here," I said, meeting Jocasta's eyes and meaning it. "They will be looking for me, are looking for me now. I won't say you are crazy for bringing that stone here, you didn't know the risk. But there are turncoat battle mages among them, and the loupe. They can learn and they have stone enough to do damage. If they get their hands on that monster they could raze cities."

She looked grimly determined. "So can I, and so can we. If it comes to it, you know we will."

I nodded. History had shown that clearly. Rogue mages had appeared in the past, taken control of kingdoms covertly or overtly, then tried to oppose us and been crushed utterly, their followers slaughtered to a man in some cases. "I know that, but I would rather it not come to that. Wherever these necromancers come from we will inevitably track them to their source," I glanced at Sapphire, "as soon as word gets back," he nodded, he would report independently, "and we will crush them utterly." We are jealous of our power, of the stone that is the source of our power. No one else would be permitted to have it, let alone use it against us. "But still, you are in danger while you are here, and that stone must not fall into their hands."

She nodded acceptance of what I was saying but didn't respond. Dubaku had said nothing. He just sat in his chair and watched. Sapphire leaned against the door. Still. Watching. His thoughts his own.

"Where's Meran?"

"On duty. He'll be back later, this afternoon."

"I thought he was one of them. Saw him at the gate. He saw me." I finished my beer. Resisted asking for another. It wasn't easy.

"It's how we knew where you were. He and Sapphire were in touch."

"How did you know I was even alive?"

"I checked the bodies," Sapphire said.

I looked at him and thought about it. "That's either a lie or an attempt at humor."

He shrugged. "I didn't know. But I couldn't go anywhere. There are still things to do."

"Places to go. People to kill. Sorry. Forget that. I'm glad you are here."

He seemed to accept my apology. I wasn't sure. He didn't give much away. Maybe naturally the type, maybe training, maybe both. I wondered where my father had found him. He was a northerner, no mistake. Pale blue eyes, dusty blond hair, pale skin.

"And you?" I turned my attention back to Jocasta "I didn't know either. But I wanted to know for sure. The stones, I harmonized them so I could find you. I knew you were in the town, or at least that the stone was, and came looking."

"You have another stone?"

Without a word she took it and pa.s.sed it to me. "You should have this." The ruby red stone was set in a plain silver necklace, held by a claw. It was a one carat stone, like mine, more a badge of rank than a useful tool. It was hers. I slipped it over my neck and snicked the clasp closed, tucking it into my dirty, soiled shirt.

"I need a bath. Clean clothes. What happened to you when you got here?"

"I was sneaking about in the city when Sapphire recognized me. He had found Dubaku also and he was hiding out in an abandoned cottage. Sapphire had also made contact with Meran."

"You were busy," I commented.

Sapphire shrugged. "You do need a bath. I have spare clothes. I steal them regularly."

I nodded. It was the first piece of information he had volunteered and I appreciated it, though it wasn't much. I steal clothes. Different kinds, I a.s.sumed, to blend into different situations. Spy skills, a.s.sa.s.sin skills. It was a subtle admission that I had him pegged.

"They will be searching. Maybe with magic, certainly on foot, we don't have much time."

"We know. We have plans. Trust us," Jocasta told me. "Take a bath."

"Tell me about the necromancer," Dubaku said.

It was almost the first thing Dubaku had said to me since I had seen him and I gave him my full attention, meeting his expressionless eyes. "They are priests." I put every ounce of loathing and disgust into the word priests that I could muster.

He nodded, once, and then was still again. It was all he needed to know, I guess. I told him about Jerek anyway. I wanted to talk about it, didn't want to talk about it but couldn't help myself. His expression didn't change. Not one bit. Jocasta shed a tear, almost unnoticed. I didn't blame her. I didn't tell them what the spirit had said, or what Kukran Epthel had said about that. They had found something I loved, all right. I loved booze, and my admission shamed me with its honesty.

The bath was good. Not as good as I had once been used to, but good. That thought alone caught me by surprise. 'Once was used to.' A month ago and for my whole life prior to that, had been reduced to 'once was' and forgotten. There was a lesson in that somewhere, but I just didn't know where. Hot water was harder to create on a small wood burning stove but we gave it our best shot. It was good enough. I soaked and thought. Slavery. That's why they were doing this.

It was a pretext, a lie, obviously. Kukran Epthel knew all about slavery, the slavery of lies that force invalid action on the believer of the lie, the slavery of oppression, corruption of the individual to ensure their obedience. He was an enslaver, no doubt. But I had been made to start thinking and I cannot stop, or lie to myself. It's my nature. So was slavery inherently evil and was I, were we, evil to practice it? I could not, for the life of me, think of a culture that I knew of that did not practice slavery in one form or another. We are not cruel, less cruel than some. A slave has rights and some freedoms, though not the freedom to leave. Many sell themselves into bondage to make money and use their skills to make more, buying themselves free in time. True, their status would forever be changed to freedman instead of free, but becoming a slave was a solution for some and for some a way to progress their careers in the halls of the powerful. A man or woman with extraordinary ability and skill can become indispensable to a man of influence and affect the law, change the world. It was no small thing. Those made slave due to conquest were our enemies; and what were we supposed to do to them? Leave them to ferment rebellion? Kill them all? No. Better to remove them and give them a new life, should they choose to accept it and work within a legal framework to better themselves. Some also worked their way free and stayed or returned home as they pleased. Those who returned were changed and developed by exposure to our civilization, our open, honest, slightly corrupt way of doing things. They usually did well, changing their own culture somewhat; they often acted as amba.s.sadors of our civilization, knowingly or unknowingly. Some became administrators and furthered our cause.

And what was our cause? Freedom, peace, prosperity. Do what you want but don't be a pain, do not harm us in any way or we will harm you, do not interfere with trade. That was it in essence. Okay, one or two adventuresome patrons had instigated wars and prosecuted them ruthlessly. They had the power, and the freedom, to do so. They had not, in the long run, prospered. On one occasion that immediately sprang to mind the ruler in exile had pet.i.tioned another patron to prosecute the offender and won. It didn't help the dead, but every single slave taken in the campaign had been located, compensated, and returned home at the expense of the losing patron. One or two civil wars had occurred when one patron took the part of defending a foreign land against what he deemed an unwarranted war. Not for free, I might add; we are not selfless and I saw no reason why we should be. Some lands had been given over for his tax gatherers to loot; and I freely admitted to myself that tax gathering is no more than demanding money with menaces. What else can it be? It is the same everywhere. It has to be said that some patrons were immoral, cruel, arbitrary, but what can be done about that? Having gained power a sane person attempts to keep it, and war is profitable when successful and short, as ours tended to be.

The water was getting cold and I was no further along. Our culture was not innately evil; I had decided that. Yes, slavery was unfair. Wrong on a basic level, but unavoidable until someone came up with a better idea of what to do with what we viewed as criminals; to make war against us, to prey on trade, to practice piracy, these were criminal acts, and I did not think that pretending people were free, while binding them about with arbitrary and restricting rules and preventing their advancement, was anything other than slavery by another name and far more evil because it wasn't even honest.

Kukran Epthel professed to be against slavery, yet he would take the spirit of a child, maim it, break it, remake it into a tool, and then enslave it for eternity. That was evil. Torture was evil. Lies were evil, just a dishonest form of slavery. Forced addiction could not be considered anything other than evil, but then I was biased. Yet Kukran justified himself, somehow. I knew that he ought to be opposed, but wondered that such as Gatren could adopt his cause so rabidly.

Was there any justice in his alleged cause? How do you prove what ought to be, how do you know what ought to be, and how do you reconcile it with what is? What is is. The fact ignores your protestations. The cry 'things ought to be different' was meaningless even if you knew, or believed you knew, what ought to be. But how did you justify it and reconcile it to what is? Slavery was part of reality, in one form or another. People ought to be free, one might cry, but what people? Habitual criminals preying on other people's work? Murderers? Pederasts? Well, no not them! Then who? Only those who deserved freedom? And who are they and how do you tell and test? And who tests and how do you keep them honest? And even if honest, what if you think differently? The city was a state with arbitrary rules and justifications, but all states were just as arbitrary; 'this G.o.d said this family should rule as they see fit.' What kind of justification was that?

I sighed, shelved the problem for another time. The water was cooling rapidly now and I needed to get clean. My body felt better for the soak but would soon feel worse for the cold.

Slowly and with care I cleaned myself as meticulously as I could, washed my hair, shaved. The towel was small and only just man enough for the job. The clothes were common, cheap in fact, but serviceable. Warm once on. With my hair dry and the tub cleaned, I went back to face my fellows.

I was ready for a drink.

"I have made the garden safe."

Jocasta was responding to Meran's news that the barbarians were performing door to door searches, methodically working their way through the town..

"Do I need to say I told you so?" I said.

We were seated around the kitchen table. Meran was busy at the stove, cooking the chicken he had bought and making a sauce that he knew I liked. He had stripped off his armor, his sword was propped against the door. He tried to seem relaxed but I could see the tension in him. We were far from safe here. Sapphire had unbent enough to take a seat. Dubaku had not moved so far as I knew.

No one responded so I sipped beer and kept my own counsel. I just wanted her and that large stone away from here. Her skill and the stone's power were a far greater threat than the rest of them, and I had made that clear.

Meran leaned against the wall by the stove, watching the vegetables boil disinterestedly. "I think we should get out of here."

"The damage is done, let them have what they have for now, not risk them gaining what they have not. Far as I can see it's only how and when," I said.

"I can make a ring of fire thirty yards across and walk out," Jocasta grumped.

"There are something like eight thousand men outside Undralt, their camp is bigger than the town. Plus those inside. Do you suspect none of them have bows?" I was being reasonable.

"I can protect us against missile fire," she was angry. I think she was angry at the enemy, but she was looking at me so I wasn't too sure.

"And magic? For the two hundred miles to Neerthan? a.s.suming Orthand's army is still there or even exists. It is only me that has the problem. You and Sapphire walked in here disguised, Meran came as a barbarian among his own. No offense, Meran."

"None taken. If the battlefield had been less chaotic I would have died with the rest. Only luck that a cloak and a change of weapons was enough to change sides. They took me for one of them, as I once was. But if I am seen in your company, no such disguise will save me, I think."

He had already explained that when the end came the chaos had left every surviving individual fighting alone. He had lost sight of me long since, the press of the enemy parting us as we were pushed back into a smaller and smaller circle. He had been knocked to the ground and came up with a cloak in his hand, turning and shouting in his own tongue. Blind luck had saved him. No one had noticed. They saw a city man fall and a barbarian rise. Luck can be fickle.

I nodded. "And Dubaku can be shielded by his ancestors from being seen. I am the problem here, and I need a way out as soon as we can think of one. Now would be a good time." I glanced out the dirty window at the overcast afternoon.

"It won't be as easy getting out as in," Sapphire said.

"But no problem for you?"

He shrugged. "I pa.s.sed in and out many times, and have many routes. But now they are on guard. Men died. They will be angry, wary, and looking for someone to hurt. Alone, I'm confident, but in company? Not so much."

"Jocasta?"

"Illusion. Getting through the gates is no problem for me. Or I could blind anyone in sight and we could all walk through the gates together."

"Doing it without being noticed might be better. An illusion, then. Good idea."

She nodded. "I can maintain one, and have. Poverty, they more or less ignore the poor."

"Nothing to take," Meran chipped in. "They are after loot and personal gain, nothing more. The town is bare of loot so only people arriving have been of interest, till now. People coming to the town to pet.i.tion the new rulers, get on side with them, denounce us, the usual thing."

"And they are looking for one man alone. Me. We only need a solution for me." I had been drinking slowly but steadily, I knew I wasn't sober but I knew I wasn't drunk either. A dangerous stage to be at. "I don't believe we are still here, why didn't we leave last night?"

"You couldn't walk," Meran reminded me.

I flushed. "Oh. Yes."

"It is what we planned. The fog was unexpected, a.s.sumed to be natural. No one was much on guard against us. If you could have walked quietly it would have been worth a try," Meran finished.

"It would have been fairly easy. Just take down anyone who stumbled upon us in the fog or got in our way, and then out through a postern gate. I have picks. It's an exit I have used." Sapphire continued. "But having you..."

"I get the idea. Sorry to have ruined your carefully laid plans. I agree that they will be unlikely to be off guard a second time, or so readily fooled by a sudden fog. That doesn't help now though, does it? Fully exploring how I messed it up isn't moving things forward is it? I was very drunk, I know. I might have been able to be less drunk had I been warned of your imminent arrival but I had no clue." No one said anything as I took a long pull on my beer. "I'm sorry. I am very grateful that you got me out of there. Now I need to get me out of here."

"In the morning," Jocasta said dryly.

I glared at her, then the beer in my fist. "I'm not drunk yet. Not that drunk anyway."

"Eat," Meran was pulling the chicken from the oven. "There is time. I know their schedule. They will hit this area in an hour or so."

"Right," I agreed. "Then we hide; come out to play later. You are sure they can't find the garden?"

She shook her head. "They will find it, they just won't find us in it. Trust me."

The building we were in was two deserted flats next to an empty warehouse. The walled garden connected the two and the whole stood alone, surrounded by two roads and two alleyways.

"Then you can all go," I told them, "as soon as we think of a good way for me to get out, I mean. We'll meet up once outside."