Bheid returned to the table with two ale tankards, and one sniff was all it took to persuade Althalus not to taste whatever was in the tankard.

"Awful, isn't it?" Bheid said.

"It might be all right for washing your socks," Althalus agreed. "How long has this place been here?"

"Several centuries, at least. The Treborean clergy's essentially Black Robe-which is to say that they worship the correct God-but they refuse to accept the authority of our Holy Exarch. We've tried for thousands of years to persuade them that their position verges on heresy, but they seem to be blessed with invincible ignorance, and-" Bheid stopped, looking at the faint smile that had come across Althalus' face: "What?" he demanded.

"Think, Bheid," Althalus told him. "Hasn't your theological position changed just a bit here recently?"

"I was only trying-" Then Bheid laughed ruefully. "It's a habit, I guess," he admitted. "Maybe I'm over-trained. My responses are almost automatic. When you get right down to the core of it, there's not much difference between Treborean theology and that of Medyo. We disagree on matters of Church politics, and that's about all, really. Anyway, this tavern is a sort of hidden outpost of the true religion-if there really is such a thing-and it gives us a place where we can further Black Robe policies."

"Which occasionally involve murders, I suppose?" Althalus added.

"Now and then, yes. We don't do that sort of thing very often, of course, but the option is there."

"You don't have to be so apologetic with me, Bheid," Althalus told him. "I'm very tolerant about things like that. I gather that your murderers are on a salary of some kind?"

"A yearly retainer with a bonus for each murder, yes."

"Then they aren't just assorted fanatics who kill for their God?"

"Good heavens no! Fanatics want to be captured and executed. That makes them martyrs, and martyrs are rewarded in heaven. Our assassins are thoroughgoing professionals who never get caught."

"Good policy. Never hire amateurs when you can get professionals."

"There they are now," Bheid said, looking toward the back of the tavern.

The two men who had just entered the tavern through the back door were so nondescript as to be virtually invisible. The word "medium" covered almost every aspect of their appearance. They were neither tall nor short, light nor dark, and their clothing was neither ragged nor elegant. "I just can't understand what's come over Engena here lately, Mengh," one of them was saying to the other as they approached the table. "Nothing seems to suit her anymore. She doesn't like our house, she doesn't like the neighbors, and she doesn't even like our dog."

"Women get strange on you sometimes, Sarwin," Mengh replied sagely. "They don't think the same way we do. Buy her some presents and make a bit of a fuss over her. That's what I do when Pelquella starts getting grouchy on me. It's not really the gift that matters so much. It's the attention. When you stop paying attention to your wife, you're in for trouble." Mengh looked quickly at Bheid. "Well, hello there, Mister Bheid," he said. "We haven't seen you here for quite some time."

"I've been just a bit busy," Bheid explained. "Why don't you gentlemen join us?"

"We'd be happy to, Mister Bheid," Sarwin said.

The assassins seated themselves at the table and signaled to the proprietor for tankards of ale.

"I'm glad you gentlemen happened by," Bheid told them. "There's something we need to talk about."

"Oh?" Mengh said. "Whit was that?"

"That business matter we were discussing the last time I was here."

The two murderers both looked pointedly at Althalus.

"This is my partner, Althalus," Bheid said, "my silent partner, usually. Something's come up here recently, and he wanted to speak with you personally. Our plans have changed just a bit."

"Changed?" Sarwin said sharply. "Are you saying that you don't need our services anymore?" His eyes grew hard.

"That's not what he said, friend," Althalus said. "The timing's changed, that's all. The pay's still the same, and so's the job. We just want you to hold off a bit-market conditions, you understand. Several things have to happen before we'll be able to go ahead, and if you gentlemen just happened to be a little premature, it might alert our competitors. We're out to make a big coup in the market, so to speak, and we don't want the competition to know what we're up to. I'm handling the details in several other cities, and Mister Bheid is taking care of things here. Timing's absolutely crucial in our particular business."

"That's the advantage we have in our profession," Mengh said with a perfectly straight face. "Time's not really very important when we set out to make a coup. We can hold off, if that's what you want. Just have Mister Bheid give us the word when you want the job done. Would you gentlemen like to drink to that?" He lifted his tankard inquiringly.

Althalus made a face. "I really think I'd rather not," he replied.

"I was rather hoping you'd say that," Sarwin said, pushing his tankard as far away as he possibly could.

"Are you busy, Althalus?" Sergeant Khalor asked the following morning.

"No, not really. Why?"

"Do you I suppose you could look in on Twengor over in Poma? I'm not really worried-Twengor knows what he's doing-but I like to keep abreast of things. If the invaders are doing things right, they've committed about a third of their army to Poma, but house-to-house fighting's very tricky, and if they beat Twengor-or manage to slip away-Gelta's going to have an extra hundred thousand or more troops to throw at Mawor. I'd go myself, but I'm rather busy right now. If Twengor thinks those people might be able to get away from him, I want to know about it." He hesitated a moment. "This is just between you and me, Althalus, but what I really want to know is whether or not Twengor's still sober. If he's backsliding, I should probably know about it. I wouldn't talk about it, if I were you, but you know what to look for."

"I'll go wake Eliar," Althalus said, turning toward the stairs.

"I just now got to sleep," Eliar complained when Althalus woke him.

"This won't take too long, boy," Althalus told him.

"I'm going to talk with Dweia about this," Eliar grumbled. "Everybody's making sure that Sergeant Khalor gets enough sleep, but nobody ever thinks about me."

"You're the doorman, Eliar. Quit complaining. We'll use the regular door to Poma."

"Why not use the special door in the tower?"

"There's fighting in the streets in Poma, Eliar. I don't think I want to come out in the wrong house. Besides, Sergeant Khalor's using that window beside the door."

"I see what you mean. The regular door's in the east corridor."

"You'd better bring your sword."

"Right."

They went through the quiet house to the east corridor and peered through several doors until they located chief Twengor's command post. The city was largely in ruins by now, and many of the houses and shops were burning.

"What's afoot, Althalus?" Twengor asked when one of his kilted clansmen escorted Althalus and Eliar into the room where the burly Chief crouched beside a window.

"Nothing all that unusual, Twengor," Althalus replied. "We just stopped by to see how things were going."

"There's nothing really unusual happening here. Oh, I'd keep my head down, if I were you. There's an archer in that house across the street who's quite a bit better than average. He's come very close to parting my hair a couple of times. I've got some of those Wekti shepherds up on the third floor trying to get a clear shot at him."

"How are they working out?"

"Not bad at all. I've got several archers who are almost as good, but archers need a supply of arrows, and all a slinger needs is a rock that he can pick up anyplace."

"How much of the city have the invaders overrun so far?"

"They're more or less in control of the northern quarter."

"More or less?"

"Things are sort of fluid. They mass up troops and make an assault on some house or shop. My archers and those shepherds make it very expensive for them when they attack. We hold the house for a while and then pull back." Then the bearded Chief chuckled. "Our enemies have learned not to hold any victory celebrations at that point, though."

"Oh?"

"The capture of a house that might just collapse on top of you is a hollow sort of victory, wouldn't you say? My men had enough time before the invaders broke down the walls to weaken the walls and ceilings in nearly every building in Poma. We brace them up with timbers while we occupy those buildings, but we take those timbers with us when we leave. I think if it got down to a count, the houses have killed more of the enemy than my men have. First the invaders have to fight their way into the house, and then the house falls down on top of them. I've told my men that it's perfectly all right to laugh loud enough for the enemy to hear when that happens."

"You've got an evil mind, Twengor."

"I know, and I enjoy every minute of it."

"If none of the houses or shops are safe, the citizens won't really dare to come back when the war's over, though, will they?" Eliar asked.

"That's too bad," Twengor replied indifferently. "If those skinflint merchants had paid their taxes, the walls, might have held and we wouldn't have to do it this way. By the time this is over, there won't be much of Poma left, but that's really none of my concern."

"Is there much of a possibility that the invaders will just give up on Poma and move on?" Althalus asked. "Khalor's a bit concerned about that. He doesn't want these people to march on Mawor-or just bypass Mawor and move on to Osthos."

"I've pretty much got them locked in place here, Althalus," Twengor replied. "I gave them several neighborhoods near the breach in the north wall just to lure them into the city far enough that pulling back out is going to be almost impossible-particularly when my archers and those Wektis with their slings are on top of every roof in that part of town. They're trapped here." Twengor glanced out the window, and then he started to chuckle an evil sort of laugh. "Come here and watch this," he invited them.

Althalus and Eliar joined him at the window.

"My men just signaled. That house across the street's been irritating me for the last three days. One of the boys just took care of that."

An arrow buzzed spitefully through the window.

"That's what's been irritating me," Twengor said. "Nobody's been able to get a clear shot at that fellow. Watch."

Clouds of oily smoke began to billow out through the windows of the half-ruined house across the street.

"That's a stone building," Althalus noted. "How did your men manage to set it on fire?"

"It's not the building that's burning, my friend," Twengor chortled. "One of the biggest tax evaders in Poma just happened to be a wool merchant. We emptied out his warehouse and filled the cellars of a goodly number of these houses with wool. Then we soaked that wool down with lamp oil, melted lard, and naphtha. One of my archers just put a fire arrow through the cellar window of that house. Breathing in smoke isn't very good for a man, I'm told, but what really tops it all off is the fact that the house that just got turned into a chimney used to be the palace of the wool merchant."

"I'd say that his taxes just went way up." Althalus chuckled.

"That they did, Althalus. That they did. Tell Khalor that I've got everything under control here in Poma. I'm dispensing justice and tying down the enemy."

"I'll pass that on. Could you drive the invaders out of town if necessary?"

"That wouldn't be much of a problem. But why? I thought Khalor wanted me to hold them here."

"Just temporarily, Chief Twengor. We've got some cavalry in reserve to mop things up when the leaves have all turned red. I'll let you know when the time's right. Then you can invite your visitors to leave, and they'll be out in the open to provide entertainment for the cavalry."

"We should all be home by winter, then."

"That was roughly what we had in mind. Winter wars are so boring."

"I've noticed that myself. Just say the word, Althalus, and I'll kick our unwanted guests out of Poma and start packing up all the odds and ends we've picked up here for the trip home."

"No victory celebration, Twengor?"

"I don't think so this time," Twengor replied. "Waking-up in the morning without a blinding headache's sort of a novelty. I think I might like to enjoy it for a little longer. Go tell Khalor that I'm still sober and that I can drive the enemy out of town at a moment's notice. Isn't that more or less what he wanted to know?"

"You were way ahead of me, weren't you?"

"Of course I was. Now that I'm not seeing double anymore, I can see very clearly. Get out of here, Althalus. I'm busy"

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR.

"How did you three get past that army out there?" the jut-jawed Koleika demanded when Althalus, Eliar, and Khalor were admitted to Duke Nitral's palace in Mawor.

"We came across from the other side of the river in one of your supply ships," Althalus lied glibly. "It took a bit of fast talking, but we finally persuaded the ship Captain that we were friends."

"How are Kadon and Poma holding out?" Duke Nitral asked.

"Things are going much more smoothly in Kadon now that Laiwon's confined Duke Olkar to his palace, your Grace" Khalor replied.

"He did what?" Nitral exclaimed.

"Olkar kept trying to interfere, Duke Nitral," Althalus explained.

"He'd come unraveled every time a shop window got broken or Laiwon commandeered part of the workforce. I don't think Duke Olkar quite grasps the meaning of the word 'war,' for some reason."

"Laiwon got tired of all his interference and sent him to his room," Khalor said with a faint smirk. "The walls of Kadon are holding, so the city's not in any real danger."

"What about Poma?"

"That's a different story. They're fighting from house to house there. There won't be much left of Poma by the time Twengor gets through."

"Poor Bherdor." Nitral sighed.

"It's his own fault, your Grace. If he'd been a bit more firm, he might have been able to do something about the walls. From a strategic point of view, though, those insignificant walls are a godsend. The besiegers got into Poma, but Twengor's busy making sure that they'll never get out-until I'm ready for them to come out."

The door opened, and a heavily armed Treborean soldier entered. "They're mounting another attack near the main gate, your Grace," the soldier reported with a smart salute.

"Time to go to work, I guess," the Duke said, picking up an ornate helmet from his desk.

They all trooped out of the Duke's study.

"Have they been attacking very often, Chief Koleika?" Eliar asked as they left the palace courtyard and came out into the street.