"Will the walls hold?"

"Not a chance." Khalor snorted. "I snitched some of Salkan's shepherds from Dreigon and Gebhel, so Twengor's got slingers as well as his own archers. What he's really doing in Poma is opening up avenues to give those boys clear shots at the enemy after they get inside the city. He's giving himself fighting room, and there won't be much left of Poma when he's done."

Althalus and Gher were looking out at the hilltop fort where Smeugor and Tauri were supposedly hiding. "Where's Argan?" Althalus asked. "I don't seem to be able to see him."

"He's hiding in that clump of bushes on the west side," Gher replied. "He sneaks real good. He's waiting for it to get dark before he goes inside to tell Smeugor and what's-his-name to stop setting fire to those wheat fields. He won't find them in there, of course, but he will find the note Eliar and I put there."

"Note?"

"Didn't Eliar tell you about it? I thought he was going to take care of that."

"It must have slipped his mind. Why don't you tell me about it, Gher?"

"Well, we were talking about Smeugor and what's-his-name the other day. I was asking Eliar why those two Generals didn't just go ahead and kill their Chiefs, since they really don't like them. Eliar explained that if they did that, it'd start an awful fight. Arums seem to have a lot of funny ideas about that sort of thing, don't they?"

"Arums have a lot of funny ideas, Gher. Why don't you tell me about the note?"

"Oh. Right. Anyway, I got to thinking about how we told Smeugor and what's-his-name that Ghend was real mad at them for setting all those fires, and a whole bunch of stuff sort of clicked together. If we fixed it so that Ghend believed some wild story about Smeugor and what's-his-name, then he really would want to kill them, and if Ghend kills them instead of the Generals doing it, there wouldn't be any fights among the Arums. They'd be mad at Ghend instead. Does that make any sense at all?"

"The note, Gher," Althalus said firmly. "Tell me about the note. Stick to the point."

"I was only trying to explain why we did it, Master Althalus," Gher said defensively. "Anyway, that Argan fellow sneaks so good that he is going to get inside the fort, no matter how many guards there are, so Eliar and I put together a note that's supposed to have been wrote down by Sergeant Khalor. Eliar put it down on paper, since I don't write too good yet. We had to do it about four or five times to make sure we got it just right. The note tells Smeugor and what's-his-name to keep on pretending that they're still working for Ghend and to blame their Generals for all the fires that're burning up Ghend's food. Then it tells them to weasel Ghend's war plan out of some of Ghend's other sneaky people and to pass it on so that we'll know what they're going to do before they do it. Then Eliar and I put in some stuff about how much gold we're going to pay those two. Then we fluffed it up by saying that our side's really worried about the war and stuff like that, and we finished it up by saying some real nasty things about Emmy's brother. Do you think it might work, Master Althalus?"

"If it confuses Ghend as much as it just confused me, it probably will."

"Oh, I left something out; I got a little rattled when you kept wanting to know about the note."

"I'll bite out my tongue," Althalus told the boy. "What was this thing you left out?"

"Well, after we win this war, there won't be much point in keeping Smeugor and what's-his-name here in the House, will there?"

"Probably not, no."

"Eliar and I thought it might be kind of neat to just shove them through a door into someplace where Ghend can find them real quick. Ghend's going to be mad because he just lost another war, so he'll probably do some real mean things to those two while he's killing them. That'll pay them back for trying to swindle us, and since Ghend's going to do the killing, the two Generals won't get their hands dirty and there won't be no fights in Arum. Doesn't that all sort of fit together?"

"I don't see any great big holes in it," Althalus admitted.

"That was why I called you over here to the window to watch," Gher said. "I wanted you to see that Argan fellow's face fall off when he reads that note. And later on-if we're not too busy-maybe we can watch Ghend's face fall off when Argan shows him the note. Did I do good?"

"You did real good, Gher," Althalus said, and then he burst out laughing.

Right after breakfast the next morning, Eliar, Althalus, and Sergeant Khalor went through the corridors of the House to the encampment of Chief Koleika Iron jaw and took the big-chinned Clan Chief to the road leading to the city of Mawor.

"Great Gods!" the usually taciturn Koleika exclaimed. "Would you look at those walls!"

"Impressive," Khalor agreed.

"It must have cost a fortune to build something like that!"

"As I understand it, Duke Nirral's been studying architecture for most of his life," Althalus told him. "He's made special trips to Deika and Awes and various other cities just to make drawings of the public buildings and the outer walls. Mawor sits on the River Osthos, and it's a very prosperous city. When Duke Nitral ascended the throne there, he decided to indulge his hobby. He's determined to make Mawor the most splendid city in all of Treborea."

"I'd say he's getting close," Iron Jaw said. "I'm glad we're on his side. I'd hate to have to attack that place."

"You won't have to," Khalor told him. "How long do you think you can hold Mawor?"

"With that river right beside the walls, there'll always be plenty of water, and if there's enough food in the storehouses, I can hold for ten years, at least."

"Let's hope it doesn't last that long," Althalus said. "What's more important than holding the city, though, is keeping the enemy from just giving up and moving on to Osthos."

"Once they've engaged here, I can keep them here," Koleika asserted, his lower jaw jutting out even more. "This place is a perfect trap. I'll let them approach and start the siege. If they try to back away, though, I'll ruin them. They'll have to keep their entire army right here, because the minute they try to withdraw, I'll come out of that fortress like the wrath of God and tromp them into mud puddles all over this plain. They won't get past me, Althalus. I can guarantee that."

"I think that might just be the longest speech I've ever heard you make, Chief Koleika," Khalor noted.

"Sorry," Koleika apologized shortly. "I guess I got a little carried away. Those walls really impressed me."

"Let's go on into the city," Althalus suggested. "We'll introduce you to Duke Nitral, and then you two can get down to business."

Duke Nitral was not in his palace when they arrived there, however. "His Grace is down by the river," one of the palace guards advised them. "He's supervising some construction. I think it's got something to do with the docks."

"Now, that's unusual," Khalor noted. "Most noblemen don't get involved in that sort of thing."

The guard laughed. "You don't know our Duke," he said. "When he really gets excited about one of his projects, he'll peel off his coat and start laying bricks right alongside the common stonemasons. I'm told that he's at least as good at it as most of the men who do it for a living. He ruins a lot of very expensive clothes that way, but he doesn't seem to care."

"Now, this is a man I want to meet," Koleika said. "If he's willing to get his own hands dirty, that means that he's an artist. That's why those walls are so beautiful."

They went down to the riverside gate, passed out through it, and found a wide, paved sort of highway under' the looming wall. Piers jutted out into the river, and hordes of workmen were busily erecting vaults over the piers.

"Nitral?" a foreman replied when Khalor told him that they were looking for the Duke. "He's at the upper pier. The crew up there's having trouble seating the pilings."

When Althalus and his friends reached the northern pier, they found the crew anxiously looking down into the muddy water.

Then a man Althalus recognized as Nitral came bursting to the surface with a great splash, gasping for air. "We've hit bedrock down there," he told the men on the pier. "We'll have to drill, I'm afraid. We have to seat those footings."

"There are some strangers here who want to talk with you, my Lord," one of the workmen called down to the man in the water.

"Tell them I'm busy."

"Ah . . . they're right here, my Lord."

Koleika, however, was already pulling off his clothes. "Watch yourself," he called to the Duke. "I'm coming in." Then he made a long, smooth dive off the pier and disappeared under the surface of the river.

It seemed to Althalus that Koleika was down forever, and he realized that he was holding his own breath.

Then Iron Jaw burst to the surface about twenty feet out from the pier. "You can set in your footings out here, your Grace," he said when he'd caught his breath. "There's a three-foot crevice in the bedrock right below me."

Duke Nitral was treading water near the pier. "Mark that place!" he shouted up to his workmen.

"Yes, my Lord," the foreman of the crew shouted back.

Iron jaw swain back to the pier. "I gather these vaults are designed to protect supply ships while they're unloading?" he asked the mostly submerged Duke of Mawor.

"Exactly," Nitral replied. "I've got a friend over on the other side of the river, and he's going to buy wheat from the Perquaines and ship it across to me once Mawor's under siege. I don't want any enemy ships disrupting my bread supply. You seem to know quite a bit about constructing fortifications, my friend."

"I can build them if I have to," Koleika replied. "My job's a lot easier, though, if they're already in place. My name's Koleika, and I've been hired to give your enemies a good trouncing."

"I'm delighted to meet you, Chief Koleika," Duke Nitral said, extending his hand.

"Could we hold off on shaking hands, your Grace?" Koleika said. "I'm not really a very good swimmer, and my hands are kind of busy right now. Have we more or less finished?"

"I think we've just about covered everything," Nitral replied.

"Why don't we get out of the water, then? This river's very cold, and I'm freezing down here."

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.

It had to do with the shape of her arm, Althalus decided as he studied Dweia, who sat pensively at the table with one hand idly resting on the Book. There was an almost infinite perfection in the subtly rounded contours of Dweia's arms that made his knees go weak.

"You're staring again, Althie," she said, not even looking up.

"I know. I've got a permit, though. You've got very pretty arms, did you know that?"

"Yes."

"The rest of you is pretty, too, but your arms always seem to catch my eye when I look at you."

"I'm glad you enjoy them. Please think about something else, Althie. You're distracting me. Call the children, pet. I need to talk with them. Oh, you might as well put Albron, Astarell, and Salkan to sleep for a while-just to be on the safe side."

"Whatever you say, Em." Althalus sent his thought out to touch the still-strange new group awareness. 'Emmy wants to see us in the tower,' he silently announced.

"You're shouting again, Althalus," Dweia noted.

"I'm still not used to this, Em," he explained. "Reaching out to the others isn't exactly the same as it was when it was just you and me."

"Ours goes just a bit deeper, love."

"I've noticed that-and we can still talk privately, can't we?"

"Naturally."

"Why 'naturally'? I thought that once somebody was in, he was in all the way."

"Oh, good grief, no, Althalus. That particular link is very private. At this point, nobody can go that deep except you and me. I'd imagine there'll be a couple of other private links before very long."

"An Eliar-Andine link, and a Leitha-Bheid link?" '

"Exactly. Don't tell them, love. Let them discover it for themselves. I'm just a bit curious to find out how long it's going to take them."

"If that's the way you want it, Em." Then a sudden thought came to him. "What are we going to do about Salkan? Bheid's spending a lot of time and effort trying to convert that boy, and I'm not sure it serves any purpose. I don't think Salkan would make a good priest. He's a little too independent, for one thing, and his opinion of the priesthood isn't very high."

"Let it go for right now, pet. Bheid's going through a personal crisis."

"Oh?"

"You and Eliar ripped him out of the traditional Black Robe priesthood, and he's feeling guilty. I think his attempts to convert Salkan might be a form of expiation."

"That went by just a little fast, Em."

"Bheid feels that he's abandoned his order and violated his vows. I think he might be trying to offer his order a replacement."

"He's trying to buy his way out of the priesthood with Salkan?"

"That's a crude way to put it, but it comes fairly close. Just leave them alone, Althalus. Bheid's not hurting Salkan, and right now he's dealing with a private problem. The time's not too far off when Bheid's going to have to have his head on straight, and if preaching to Salkan's all it'll take, let him preach. Now, encourage Albron, Astarell, and Salkan to take a little nap. You and I and the children have work to do."

"I've been meaning to talk with you about something, Dweia," Andine said when they'd all gathered in the tower. "Couldn't we stay in my palace in Osthos instead of here in the House? I really should be there-just in case Dhakan needs me if an emergency turns up."

"If anything happens, I'll know about it, Andine," Dweia assured her. "There are reasons for us to be here instead of in your palace. There aren't any spies here for one thing."

"If you'd just let Leitha tell me who those spies are, I could clean them out, you know."

"That's one of the things we're going to talk about right now," Dweia told her. The Goddess looked around at them. "You've all been coming up with assorted schemes in the past few days," she said. "Some of the schemes are quite clever, and some are just a little silly, but that's beside the point. I want you all to understand right here and now that you will not set any of those schemes in motion until after Gelta enters the palace in Osthos." She looked quite sternly at Bheid. "Are you listening, Brother Bheid?"

"Of course, Divinity," he said quickly.

"Then call off your assassins."

Althalus looked at the young priest with a certain astonishment. "Just what have you been up to, Bheid?" he asked curiously.

Bheid flushed slightly. "I'm really not supposed to talk about it, Althalus," he said.

"You have my permission to reveal it, Brother Bheid," Dweia told him in a flat, unfriendly voice.

Bheid winced. "Well," he said in an uncomfortable tone, "Church politics sometimes get a little murky, and occasionally-not too often, you understand-somebody gets out of line and makes himself sort of inconvenient. There are legal procedures to deal with those people, but sometimes public trials and the like might embarrass members of the hierarchy. The Church has an alternative of last resort to fall back on in those situations."

"Hired killers, I gather," Althalus said.

"That's an awkward sort of description, Althalus," Bheid objected.