I blushed to realize that part of my motive had been transparent to him.

The beer tasted good.

Carrying Sapphire had been difficult but I'd stuck with it as we pa.s.sed through storerooms and down wide corridors half filled with crates and barrels containing whatever they contained. By the time we holed up in the taproom, filled with barrels of beer of all sizes, I was shattered and hurting. We set Sapphire down, made him as comfortable as we could and I found a container and poured a beer.

As I sat and sipped from the leather jack I had found, the shakes slowly went away, the sweats stopped and the more I came back to myself the more sitting here and doing nothing became unacceptable to me. Dubaku squatted a couple of yards away and watched me drink without expression or comment.

What was Sheo doing? I was sure, on reflection, that he was an ally. Lentro must have told him about the last king's amulet, and when he had put me in prison he must have had a plan. Later, Kerral had come for Tahal, and now Tahal had the ten carat stone that Sheo had deliberately left with me. He had expected me to do something, to play some part in some plan of his. And Kerral also? And what plan? A plan to destroy Kukran Epthel? But Sheo knew me, he knew I didn't have much magic, leaving me the stone made no sense unless he wanted Tahal to have it. I ran through the spells Tahal had told me he had, with which we had planned to make an escape when the opportunity presented itself. When the time had come Tahal had not acted. So he must be an enemy, Turned by Kukran Epthel? Unaware of the last king's amulet? Certainly I had not told him about it. I shook my head, irritated at myself; no, he had not met Kukran, had been confused when I mentioned the lich. Still, he had cooperated for a time with the other Necromancer, and maybe had been placed in the cell to pump me for information. The thought irritated me. I hadn't questioned his legitimacy for a moment. Maybe I had given the ten carat stone to an enemy. That burned and brought me to my feet. Dubaku looked up at me as I paced between barrels of ale that demanded my attention.

"You have a plan?"

It was Kerral that had thrown Sapphire in the cell, not Sheo. Were they allies? Did Kerral leave some tool with Sapphire? Something to aid me, expecting that I would find it? Just knowing that would tell me a lot.

I bent to Sapphire's unconscious form and began searching him swiftly but gently. I found what I was looking for in his boots; lock-picks, a small but wickedly sharp knife, and the ring that gave the wearer the look of a barbarian. I slipped it on and Dubaku blinked, once, like a shout of shocked surprise from any other man. So they were co-conspirators! Sheo and Kerral. They had expected me to find these, to use them. When? Were they waiting for me before they acted? Was I to be a trigger? The details didn't matter. I had to act or their plan could collapse and I had to trust that their plan had a good purpose and reason even though the army was here and the war almost over.

I could stay here, wait it out, do nothing. The thought barely registered. There was no way I could do that. I needed to be doing something, needed to act, to succeed at something, and this is what was in front of me. Find Kukran Epthel. Kill him, or help kill him.

"I'm going," I said. Out of the vaults. Yes. But then what? What would they expect me to do?

Seek out and destroy Kukran Epthel. That, at least, is what I would do. In the chaos of the attack I would take him down, somehow, and utterly destroy him and the amulet.

Dubaku had wanted to accompany me, but I had argued against it. Sapphire was helpless and needed someone to hide him and protect him. Striding boldly through the vault I couldn't help wondering if he were invisible and following.

"Jocasta asked me to help you," Dubaku had said.

"So help me. Keep my friend safe while I do what I need to do."

He had shaken his head once. "No."

I came to the stairs and headed up. There were no guards at all. Perhaps there never were or perhaps the imminent attack had pulled everyone to the walls. It didn't matter. I was inside the stronghold so I would begin my search here, I decided. Turning right at the top of the stairs I moved briskly on, looking like I belonged, like I had business here, and like I didn't want to be interrupted. I was surprised by how many people glanced at me in pa.s.sing and ignored me.

"Where is Kukran Epthel?" I demanded of one fellow who also looked busy.

"With the warlord," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder and I nodded as though I knew exactly what he meant and moved on briskly about my business.

Warlord. Yes, well, the barbarians had many clans and clan chieftains. In time of war there was a vote and a warlord was chosen. So, it made sense that Kukran Epthel would be with him, in the thick of things. They were all obedient to him, after all, enthralled unknowingly by an ancient amulet.

"Where is the warlord?" I barked at the next man I pa.s.sed.

"Heading for the walls!" The fellow was in a rush and tossed the remark over his shoulder.

So, out of the stronghold, I decided. Which way was that?

Dubaku had argued further, and I had argued back. "He is helpless, I am not!"

I could not ask anyone the way out. True, I smelled of beer but I wasn't drunk and didn't think I would get away with it no matter how drunk I had been. Who wouldn't know the way out? It would just attract the wrong kind of attention. Instead, and simply, I took a straight line till I hit an easily recognized outer wall and began walking around the stronghold.

"He is not my responsibility. You are, at Jocasta's request."

"And why do you obey her above me? Your mercenary unit was under my command and I have not released you yet."

He had simply looked at me. It was true, but it was also true that all of his company were dead, and it was true that that was my fault. Still, he didn't answer and I knew I had him. I had nodded firmly, as though it were agreed and settled and then set off without waiting for him to verbally accept my authority. Good enough was good enough; no sense rubbing his nose in it. I had the illusion ring, the stone in my forehead, a set of lock-picks and a small but very sharp knife. I doubted it would be enough but the battle would begin soon and it would just have to do. I had to come out of this mess with something; a hero, not a pauper.

I came to the gate, at last. It was open and busy.

Getting out wasn't a problem. I just acted as I had been, a busy man with no time to waste on formalities. Everyone else was acting the same way, so I fit right in.

I was going to need a horse.

It was dawn, the sky pale, shadows long, fires of various sizes burning high, and people were up and on the move everywhere I looked. I hadn't taken more than a few paces from the keep, nor yet asked where the warlord might be found, when the first concussion rang out.

The attack had started.

I was going to need a horse fast. There were none nearby so I started moving. Every man in sight was armed and heading for the walls. I didn't doubt there were enough of them to man the walls entire. The Eyrie was huge but also crowded. Horses were few and far between, and I had gone a hundred yards before I saw three together, saddled and standing outside a tent, reins pegged to the ground, waiting for three men who were at that moment coming out of the tent, armed and armored.

Three of them, one of me, and I had just a small knife and no armor. No. I angled away and kept moving, heading roughly for the gate and pa.s.sing through camps and around fenced-in pastures as necessary. If I'd needed a cow or a bull life would have been easier.

More concussions sounded. I couldn't see much; dawn and dusk are the worst times of day to see clearly; add in the fires, shadows and kaleidoscopic movement of people and cattle and it was a wonder I could make sense of anything.

This is chaos, I thought, and grinned, suddenly lighthearted. Sow the seeds!

I s.n.a.t.c.hed up the next torch I saw and started setting fire to tents as I moved. Not all of them, not waiting to see the result, just moving on and setting fire to things as I searched for a horse and someone to bludgeon into telling me where the warlord was. More concussions sounded as I moved and from seemingly all around a great roar went up as several thousand men shouted at once.

It wasn't long before I was spotted, just a minute or so. Thankfully it was a young Alendi on a horse, and alone. I moved to meet him as he negotiated his mount toward me, spear raised but expression uncertain. There was no uncertainty in me. I had recaptured the right att.i.tude, wrapped myself in Sapphire's teachings. I tossed the burning brand at his face and moved in under the spear that he jabbed at me, stuck the short blade deep in his thigh and ripped down as I dropped and ducked under the belly of the horse. His scream was more shock than pain, I knew, but that was good enough. I grabbed his other leg as I came up on the other side of him and tipped him out of the saddle. He went reluctantly, trying to keep himself in the saddle, trying to bring his spear to bear. I grabbed the pommel of the saddle, stuck my one foot in the stirrup and pulled myself up, head b.u.t.ting him viciously in the face. He went. I had to drop back to the ground, control the horse, and change feet before I was able to pull myself into the saddle. The boy didn't bother me while I did so. He was done.

Spinning the horse about I started moving with better speed and better visibility. Dawn was lightening the world and the added height let me see some of what was going on.

Clouds of dust obscured several sections of the wall. I picked the nearest and headed for it.

I looked like one of them, heading for a breech and intent on defending it, just as they were. No one so much as gave me a glance apart from getting out of the way of my horse, which I used as a tool to push forward when things were pressed.

I looked around all the time, searching for a clue, and found it. A banner. There were several but this one was by far the largest and most impressive. A black bird, wings spread against a yellow background. The light was good enough that I could see colors. Good enough that even as I spotted the banner at a breach in the wall I also saw soldiers of the city pouring through the breach and pressing the enemy back. I glanced around, seeing this pattern repeated at every breach I could see. The dust settling, the enemy faltering, and our men pushing them back. I guessed that an hour would see the battle done, the war done, and my chance to settle with Kukran Epthel lost.

I turned slightly and headed for the big yellow banner. Surely Kukran was still with the warlord, and surely Tahal, if he was the Turned I took him for, would be with him, using my stone against our people. As if the G.o.ds had heard me I saw a great flash of light and a fireball expand in the midst of the breach where our men were thickest. Tahal or another, it didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was that it had to stop.

I rolled my hips forward and kicked the horse into a canter, careless of who was in the way and might get knocked down. It wasn't far but I wanted to be there now, not later.

As I closed on the banner a bonfire shielded the knot of men from view; I steered so that I could see past it and there they were. Kukran Epthel and a group of warriors grouped together on a small mound back from the fighting, suddenly close. Grimly, I made for them, picking out my companions from the group as I went. Tahal was there, and Sheo, Kerral, Hettar and Lentro. There was another figure in a black robe. Their backs were turned to me, but I knew them anyway. Their size, shape, the way they stood, told me who was there. Not just the Turned but others, a warrior I took to be the warlord and his band of bodyguards ranged ahead of him. In the black robe, the other Necromancer. They did not expect to be attacked from the rear. Ahead of them the defenders were being pushed back. A war mage must have reached the breach because a sudden concussion rent the center, taking down dozens of defenders and our brave lads pushed against the suddenly lessened resistance. A bonfire burned to one side of my target and I steered my mount to be shielded by it until the last moment. Then I was among them.

It wasn't much of a plan, but it was the only one I had.

Sheo and Kerral had not let me keep the ten carat stone and Sapphire keep his few tools for no reason. They must be allies. They must expect us to escape, somehow. They must expect me to come here and now, to attack Kukran Epthel. They must have a plan, and that plan must surely be enough to keep me alive. Our soldiers were close and getting closer. The enemy barbarians were about to break. And I was attacking the only sure enemy I saw among the knot of enemy men. Kukran Epthel.

I recklessly rode the horse right into them and threw myself from the saddle, arms spread, hitting the lich square and bearing him to the ground. Around me all h.e.l.l broke loose. Magic flared and flashed, near-invisible light followed by fire and lightning and hot oil, some of which landed on my back and made me howl. It didn't make me change my mind. Fire. He had burned and would burn more. The bonfire was close. He wasn't heavy. He struggled. I had landed hard, winded and one arm wrenched. Bruised and battered I still wrapped my arms around him and hauled him toward the fire. He twisted in my arms, speaking calmly, his struggles slow and thoughtful. "Unhand me," he said.

The ba.n.a.lity of it almost made me laugh. I had him off the ground, his dry weight as much as a ten year old child. He smelled musty and damp, like mushrooms and mold.

"You will not live," he said.

I ignored him, carried him the short distance I had planned, turned on my heel and threw him into the fire.

My companions were covering me, spraying magic in every direction. Suddenly they were allies. Suddenly they were helping. Why had they waited? I glanced back at them. There was no threat to me there; the bodyguard of the warlord had turned and attacked the small knot of men who suddenly defended the raised ground. The warlord was dying, writhing on the ground, covered in hot oil and screaming the desperate howl of a man in agony that won't stop. I heard it clearly even above the roar of battle.

Glancing back I was nearly enveloped in flames as Kukran Epthel staggered into me, his robes burning. His face, I saw then, had had the flesh stripped from one cheek by a sword blow, one ear missing. His eyes were fixed on me as he gripped me, hugging his burning body to me.

"You will serve me as a spirit," he said.

I could almost hear his thought process slowly developing the idea. He could call a spirit to kill me and I knew he would at any moment, just as soon as he decided which one and recalled its name. The flames burned me but I didn't care.

"No, I won't," I told him and picking him up, hugging is burning robes to me. I bore him backwards, tripping and throwing both of us into the fire. I didn't have much time. I knew that what I did was madness, but Lentro was close by. I kept my eyes closed and held my breath as I sought his head with both hands, dragging them free of the burning wood and rising up as best I could. I was burning. I didn't have much time. I gripped his head as I had seen Sapphire do and wrenched it. I was not sure for a moment if the pop I heard was his neck breaking or a branch snapping under our weight where we struggled in the fire. Then I felt his head move and twisted it right around as far as I could, and not able to take the pain any more, I threw myself away, rolling over and over out of the fire. My clothes were on fire and I was covered in pain the like of which I had never guessed at. "Douse me!" I shouted.

I struggled to my feet, stripping the burning clothes from my body desperately. Eyes still closed, not daring to open them. Still holding my breath, but I would have to breathe soon. "Douse me!" I shouted again. And mercifully someone did, water shocked me with its icy cold, knocking me to my knees. I opened my eyes. I was facing the fire. Stunned with the pain. Shivering. I couldn't move.

Kukran did not die readily. He kept moving despite his grotesquely broken neck. He struggled among the burning branches, thrashing deep in the heart of the fire. Achieving nothing, he paused and moved again, dragging wood to him as he tried and failed to drag himself free. There was no desperation in his movement, only detached determination. The robes he had worn were already gone and the flesh of him burned with blue and green flames, hissing fiercely, popping and spitting now and again. I watched, determined that he would not get out, seeing that there was no chance of it. Covered in burns, moaning softly from the pain that built to levels I would not have imagined possible, I nonetheless knelt unmoving and watched Kukran's end. He died in stages as less and less of his body functioned. I watched his burning hand sticking out of the fire, close by, scrabbling still, trying to drag the useless body out of the fire. Someone healed me as I watched the hand twitch and twitch and finally, burning out, become still.

I raised my hands before my eyes, seeing the burns but feeling little pain. I touched my face, the nerves of my hands working enough to tell me of the crisp remains of hair turning to dust under them. I ran them over my face and neck. Everything still hurt, my whole body stung but it felt like it was not going to worsen, it felt like the healthy pain of healing flesh, and at least I wouldn't have to shave. I moved away from the flames, the heat hurt my tender flesh. Someone helped me and I glanced to see Larner at my side, helping me to my feet. As soon as I was had my balance he nipped away and brought a cloak back for me. I took a look around. The battle was turning into a rout.

"We couldn't attack him..." Larner started to explain. I locked eyes with him and he faltered, looked away, glanced down. "Best stay with us," he said.

I shook my head. No. The resistance was faltering, the fight more or less over. There were probably more of our men inside the walls than enemy. The warlord's banner was in the dirt. Among the group on the knoll one figure knelt as prisoner; it was the other Necromancer. Kerral was using a flag to signal to our troops. I didn't much care about any of it.

"I'm going for a beer, and the G.o.ds help anyone who tries to stop me."

He didn't say a word. I fetched my horse, hurt myself as I climbed into the saddle and rode back the way I had come. No one bothered me. Everyone I saw was busy surrendering or running for the keep. The rising sun was bright in my eyes, making me squint and frown. The heat of it hurt more than a little, making me angry. I wanted somewhere shady and cool, somewhere with beer.

I took a sip of beer.

The keep had surrendered to me. I had taken off the illusion ring and tucked it into the pocket of my cloak. G.o.d knows what I looked like, fresh burns healing, skin flaking, bald and with burned hair falling off me. I had slipped painfully off the horse at the bridge and confronted the guards as soon as those ahead of me had gotten out of my way, crossing the bridge, panicked and fleeing for some illusion of safety.

"I am Sumto Merian Ichatha Cerulian, patron of the city, and if you want anyone in there to survive you will place yourselves under my protection."

They didn't have to think about it. That the battle was lost was apparent even from here. The barbarians forget what we are capable of until we remind them every few generations. The guards were reminded. They started talking but I wasn't interested.

"Put some white flags on the walls. Throw your weapons in a pile, there," I pointed. It was only a symbol but these things are important. "Tell any solders who come here that you are under my protection. I'll be in the vaults. Get out of my way."

Now, I took another sip of beer. It tasted good.

Sapphire and Dubaku were where I had left them. Dubaku watched over Sapphire, who slept on, oblivious. "Will he live?"

"Yes," Dubaku said.

Good. I had some questions for him, when he woke, but it would just have to wait until then.

A city soldier walked past, glanced in, met my gaze and moved on. There were plenty of people striding about the vaults, glancing in as they pa.s.sed, and they almost all pa.s.sed. But not everyone ignored me. Kerral had sought me out, stood in the doorway and said a few words before going away again. As Lentro had started to say, they could not attack Kukran. The amulet inhibited them. That wasn't in the history books and I had silently resolved to do some research and write a more accurate history. I decided I would also write one telling of my experiences and the end of the thing. I only asked him one question. Where was the amulet now? He told me that Hettar had destroyed it. There were witnesses. "We all watched him do it, there was no mistake."

"We will not suffer a tyrant to live."

He had nodded and we had held each others gaze for a long moment, and then he left, leaving much unsaid. Maybe another day we would talk; maybe not. However that went, our friendship would never be the same.

I drank. Dubaku watched me. Sapphire slept. A slave found me, bringing fresh clothes. He didn't say much. Nor did I. I had no idea who sent him. I didn't much care to know. He left to find some food for me and I put on the fresh clothes, feeling little better for it. Then I drank some more and wallowed in self pity for a while. I might have achieved much but I had gained nothing. Maybe, if people reported favorably, I might get away with not being exiled. I had failed to rescue Tahal, though he was free, and d.a.m.ned if I knew now whose side he had been on or much cared. I had still lost my first command. Had raised troops without authority. Was still a drunk. - now more so than ever; addicted for life, probably.

Later, another slave sought me out with a letter from Jocasta I sipped my beer and read the letter. It was brief.

My Dearest Sumto, My brother and sister are in the camp and I cannot be rid of them. My reputation, of course, is ruined and they are furious with me. I am afraid they are going to be difficult. So long as I share their name I will not be free. I have heard conflicting accounts but understand that you are alive and well. I am very relieved. Give up on nothing you desire. All things can be yours if you are willing to fight for them.

Jocasta.

I noted she had signed only her first name and thought about that for a while. Maybe, one day, I would have something to offer her. But that day was not today.

I took another swig, tucked the letter away to think about later, and went back to brooding. I'd lost my armor and weapons. My father would not be pleased about that. But they had to be around somewhere, and like my one carat signet ring, it might be found and returned to me. I couldn't remember who had it; Sheo, or one of the others. The one on my forehead would stay, of course. No getting rid of it. And with it there would always be people who would be able to find me. It occurred to me that if they were friends that might be useful, but it applied equally to enemies.

An old soldier walked into the room, glanced at us, clearly taking in Dubaku, squatting on the floor, and the inert figure of Sapphire and myself, drunk and leaning against a barrel from which I was even then pulling another draft. He shrugged, clearly deciding he had taken drink in worse company, then hunted out a drinking jack and poured himself a beer.

"This is my beer," I told him.

"I'll buy it from you," he grinned, pulling out a coin and tossing it into my lap. I let it lay there. "Not a bad haul," he said, perching on a barrel.

Loot. I didn't know if I would actually get any. After all, I had not been with the army that had actually taken the Eyrie. But, the stronghold had surrendered to me. I could argue a case, and would when the time came. I wouldn't give up. "How much?"

He started reeling off figures he had obviously pre-calculated. "Commander in chief, one million. Commanders, half a million. Command staff and mages two hundred thousand. Equestes and First centurions a hundred thousand. Centurions fifty thousand. Infantry five thousand." He made a gesture with his hand and shrugged lightly. "Roughly," he grinned a gap-toothed grin and winked. "That'll buy us some beer, eh laddie?"

h.e.l.l, even if I only got five thousand it was better than nothing. And for what? Less than a month of my life? I can do that, I thought, raising the beer to my lips and taking a big gulp. After all it couldn't always be this hard, could it? March a bit, fight a battle, take some loot. It almost seemed easy. Maybe I'd just renounce my status as patron and join up. To h.e.l.l with my family, to h.e.l.l with everything. Yes, I decided, knowing, that's what I would do. I would write to my father, telling him, and to the council of patrons, telling them. Then I would be free to find my own way. I knew I was drunk, knew would change my mind later, but for now was happy enough with the decision and didn't worry about it.

I downed a big gulp of beer, smiled back at the gap toothed old soldier who was sitting quietly, sipping his own beer and eying me speculatively.

"So," I said, "that's good then."

THE END.

Author's Notes.

Sumto's story is taken up in book two of The Price of Freedom (which I have taken to thinking of as Freedom's Fool), as he moves deeper into the north and gets into even more trouble. The Key To The Grave ties up a few loose ends but isn't the end of things by any means; the tale is taken up in The Invisible Hand. Books IV and V are roughly planned out but please don't ask me when they will be available, as I don't know. Soon. Probably.