"Who are you planning to have murdered?"

"I wish you wouldn't use that particular word, Althalus," Bheid said uncomfortably.

"It's a technical term that we professionals use. Give, Brother Bheid. Who's your target?"

"Aryo Pelghat of Kanthon. As long as he remains on the throne of Kanthon, there'll be turmoil in Treborea, and Ghend thrives on turmoil."

"What a wonderful idea!" Andine exclaimed.

"Let's establish some rules right here and now," Dweia said sternly. "No murders, no armies out of nowhere, no rounding up of spies, and no mutinies among the Arum clans until after Gelta enters Andine's throne room in Osthos. You will do nothing to interfere with that dream vision. If any one of you slaps me across the face with a paradox, I'll be very cross with you."

"If those dream things are that important, why don't we make up some of our own?" Gher asked.

She gave him a slightly amused look. "Why do you think we're all here, Gher?" she asked him.

"Well, isn't it because Master Althalus hunted us all down and made us come here?"

"And why did he do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe you made him do it."

"Why would he take orders from me?"

"Everybody takes orders from you, Emmy."

"Why?"

"We have to. I don't know exactly why, but we just have to."

"Exactly. Daeva's dream visions are very blatant. Mine are far more subtle. It doesn't really take very much to alter reality, Gher. Sometimes something as simple as a word can change things enormously. It already has, as a matter of fact." She looked at Andine. "What word did you read on the Knife, dear?" she asked.

"'Obey,'" Andine replied.

"And what's going to happen to Gelta after you obey her when she tells you to kneel down before her?"

"She'll end up in my dungeon."

"Any more questions, Gher?" Dweia asked the boy.

He grinned at her. "Not a one, Emmy," he replied. "I think I've got it all straight now."

"That's nice," she said fondly.

The invasion from Kanthon had quite literally stopped cold until long strings of supply wagons began streaming south with food for the starving army. Gelun and Wendan stopped burning fields at that point and began ambushing the supply columns instead. Enough of the wagons evaded the ambushes to feed the invaders minimally, however, so the advance on the city of Kadon resumed, and Kadon was soon encircled.

Both Eliar and Sergeant Khalor grew increasingly grouchy as the invaders closed on Kadon.

"You two could take turns, you know," Leitha suggested. "You both don't have to stay awake day and night."

"She's right, Eliar," Khalor said. "Why don't you go get some sleep?" Khalor was looking down at Kadon from the window.

"Why don't you, my Sergeant?" Eliar replied. "All they're doing right now is setting up their encampments and bringing in their siege engines."

"You'll wake me immediately if anything unusual happens?"

"I've stood watch fairly often, Sergeant," Eliar told him, "so I have a pretty good idea what I'm supposed to do."

"I am a little tired," Khalor admitted.

"Then go to bed."

"Yes, sir," Khalor replied with a faint smile.

"Taking care of my superior's health is part of my job, Sergeant."

"Don't push it." Khalor yawned.

"Sweet dreams, Sergeant," Leitha told him.

"I think I'd rather not dream at all, under these circumstances," he said, going to the head of the stairs. "The notion of having Gelta climb into bed with me makes my blood run cold, for some reason." He yawned again and went down the stairs.

"I really want to see if it worked, Eliar," Gher was saying. "It shouldn't really take all that long."

"I'm sorry, Gher," Eliar told him, "but my Sergeant would skin me alive if I deserted my post."

"What are you two bickering about now?" Dweia asked them.

"Gher wants me to leave my post so that we can follow Argan," Eliar replied.

"It's sort of important, Emmy," Gher told her. "We left that letter from Sergeant Khalor in the fort where Smeugor and what's-his-name are supposed to be hiding. Shouldn't we find out if the letter really works the way we want it to?"

"He's got a point there, Em," Althalus said. "If the letter persuades Ghend that Smeugor and Tauri have changed sides again, then he'll take care of them, and Gelun and Wendan won't have to. Mutiny during a war isn't really a good idea. There are blood relationships involved in the Arum clans, and if a few second cousins start coming down with family loyalties and the like, those two clans might stop fighting the invaders and start fighting amongst themselves. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

"The window has to stay right where it is," Eliar insisted stubbornly.

Dweia sighed. "Men," she said to Leitha.

"Discouraging, isn't it?" the pale blond girl replied. Then she smiled offensively at Althalus. "I see three other windows here in the tower, Daddy," she said in a patronizing tone. "Hadn't you noticed them?"

"Make her stop that, Dweia," Althalus pleaded.

"You did catch her point, though, didn't you?"

"Can you really do that?"

"Of course. Didn't you know that?"

"Sometimes Daddy doesn't pay very close attention," Leitha observed.

"I'm starting to get just a little tired of that 'Daddy' business, Leitha," Althalus scolded her.

"Oh," Leitha said mockingly, "what a shame."

"Moving right along here-" Dweia cut off Althalus' retort. "-why don't we leave Eliar at his post and go watch Ghend's face fall off?" Then she led the rest of them to the north window.

"I don't think I recognize that place," Bheid noted, staring through the window at a night-shrouded encampment. "Just exactly where is it, Dweia?"

"I'm not entirely sure," she replied. "I was concentrating on Ghend, not any specific location, so the window went directly to Ghend without getting tangled up in geography"

"What a neat window!" Gher exclaimed.

"I'm rather fond of it," Dweia agreed.

"Isn't that Argan?" Leitha said, pointing at a lone horseman approaching the encampment.

"Probably," Dweia replied.

"Is it only a coincidence that we started watching just as Argan reached that place down there?" Andine asked.

"No, not really," Dweia said. "What we're seeing actually happened two days ago." She smiled faintly. "I've had a lot of practice with that procedure. It's a much more interesting way to study history than plodding through some dusty old book."

Argan galloped his exhausted horse into the center of the encampment, reined in, and swung down. "Take me to Ghend immediately!" he snapped at one of the black-armored soldiers Dweia had identified as Nekweros.

"Yes, your Worship!" the soldier replied in a hollow-sounding voice.

Ghend, however, had just emerged from the garishly colored central pavilion. "Where have you been?" he demanded harshly of Argan.

"I was looking for Smeugor and Tauri," Argan replied. "Isn't that what you told me to do?"

"Did you pass my orders on to them?"

"Would have, old boy, but I couldn't seem to find them. As it turned out, they're not in that fort."

"What are you talking about?"

"I searched the place from top to bottom, mighty leader, and there wasn't a sign of them-except for this." Argan held out a sheet of paper.

"What's that?" Ghend asked.

"Read it," Argan suggested. "It sort of speaks for itself, I'd say."

Ghend took the paper over to a sputtering torch and read "Sergeant Khalor's" letter. "Impossible!" he burst out.

"Point your finger at Koman, old boy," Argan said a bit smugly. "He's the one who missed it, not me."

"Those two imbeciles aren't clever enough to have deceived Koman!" Ghend insisted.

"They might have had help, Ghend," Argan said very seriously. "Koman isn't the only mind leech in the world you know. The witch-woman from Kweron has blocked him out before, if I remember correctly."

"I'll make them pay for this!" Ghend fumed.

"You'll have to find them first, I think. They definitely aren't inside that fort. You might want to start looking down rat holes, but that might take quite a while. I'd imagine that staying out of your reach is their main goal in life right now. They took your money and then turned around and took money from this Khalor person to turn on you. They've swindled you out of quite a bit of gold, Ghend. They smiled and nodded, and then they quite nearly starved your entire army to death. They know how you'll feel about that, I'd imagine, so they won't be easy to find."

"I'll find them, Argan," Ghend replied, his eyes burning. "Believe me, I'll find them."

"Yakhag could probably locate them for you," Argan suggested.

"No. Keep Yakhag out of sight. I'll take care of Smeugor and Tauri myself."

"Whatever you say, old boy," Argan replied.

The south window in the tower looked out over the city of Kanthon, and Bheid gave Eliar directions to a rather nondescript tavern in the commercial district.

"I won't leave the door open while you two are inside that tavern," Eliar told Bheid and Althalus, "so whistle when you want to come home."

"You don't really have to come with me, Althalus," Bheid said with a slightly anxious took "What's bothering you, Brother Bheid?" Althalus asked.

"Well . . ." Bheid said uncomfortably, "I'm really not supposed to tell anybody about these people. It's one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Church."

"I wish you'd get your loyalties straightened out, Bheid," Althalus told him bluntly. "Dweia's a little peeved about this scheme of yours, and I'm going along to unruffle her feathers. Personally, I'm not as upset with your notion as she is, but I would sort of like to have a look at your assassins to find out for myself whether they're professionals or just religious enthusiasts."

"All right," Bheid said, throwing up his hands. "Anything you say, Althalus."

"Let's go then."

They went through the door and emerged in the alleyway behind the tavern. They were both wearing ordinary clothes to avoid notice, and they moved out into the street to mingle with the few passersby.

The outside of the tavern appeared sedate, even slightly stuffy, and a pair of what seemed to be ordinary tradesmen were standing in the doorway talking about the weather. Bheid stepped slightly in front of Althalus, making a peculiar gesture with his fingers, and the two men politely stepped aside for him. "It's just a precaution," Bheid said quietly to Althalus as they entered. "The proprietor's not very enthusiastic about random patrons walking in off the street." Then he smiled faintly. "I should probably warn you in advance about something. I wouldn't drink too deeply of the ale that's served here."

"Oh?"

"It's strictly for show, and it doesn't taste very good. People who have no business here may stop by once, but they almost never come back."

"Is it that bad?"

"Worse, actually. This establishment is supposed to look like a tavern, but that's not really why it's here." Bheid led the way to a table near the back. "I'll fetch us a couple of tankards and speak with the proprietor. He'll send for Sarwin and Mengh."

"Your hired killers?"

Bheid nodded. "I'll be right back."

Althalus sat down and looked curiously around at the counterfeit tavern. The few patrons were all soberly dressed, and their ale tankards for the most part sat untouched on the tables while they idly talked with each other in quiet tones. Almost in spite of himself, Althalus was very impressed. The entire tavern, including most of the patrons, was an elaborate sham, and he was fairly certain that if someone who wasn't supposed to be here entered, an argument-quickly followed by a brawl-would break out.