"We couldn't really, Dhakan," Andine said from her throne. "The palace was absolutely infested with spies."

"Not anymore," Leitha murmured.

"Unfortunately, that's also contributed to this outbreak of skittishness," Dhakan pointed out. "I'm sure they were all on the enemy payroll, but throwing footmen and stable boys into the dungeon along with high-ranking members of the court lays a strong odor of arbitrary capriciousness over the whole procedure, and there's no really rational explanation for some of those arrests." Dhakan passed a weary hand across his face. "I'm sure that Leitha was right in her identifications of those enemy agents, but it's not the sort of thing you'd want to take into any law court." He sighed.

"You're exhausted, aren't you, Dhakan?" Andine asked sympathetically.

"I am just a bit worn down, my Arya," he admitted. "It's been fairly hectic here lately."

"Why don't you go eat and then get some sleep?"

"There are so many things left to do," he protested.

"They'll wait. Get to bed, Dhakan."

"But-"

She drew herself up on her throne. "Go to your room! Now!" she commanded, pointing to the door.

"Yes, Mother," he replied with a faint smile. Then he turned and wearily shuffled from the room.

"I love that old man," Andine murmured fondly.

"I never would have guessed," Leitha said.

Then Eliar and Gher entered Andine's throne room. "It's all finished up at Poma," Eliar advised them. "Twengor ran the enemy forces out of town and Kreuter and Dreigon rolled right over the top of them."

"Where's Khalor?" Althalus asked.

"He's stuck to that window," Gher replied. "I don't think you could drag him away from it with a team of horses."

"He wants me to come right back," Eliar added, "in case he needs to use the door. I'm supposed to tell you that Twengor's coming here for his money. The Sergeant thinks we should probably have a conference after Kreuter and Dreigon finish up at Kadon and Mawor."

"That might not be a bad idea," Althalus agreed. "How's Bheid?"

"He's been sleeping quite a lot," Gher replied. "Emmy says that's the best way to calm him down."

"He is going to be all right, isn't he?" Leitha asked in a worried voice.

"He acts a little strange whenever Emmy lets him wake up," Gher told her. "He talks about stuff that I don't quite understand. Emmy lets him go on and on about it while he's eating, and then she puts him back to sleep again. Don't worry, Leitha. Emmy's not going to let him stay strange. She'll fix him, even if she has to take him apart and put him back together again."

Leitha shuddered. "What a gruesome thought."

"You know our Emmy," Gher told her.

The citizens who had fled at Gelta's approach began to filter back into the city, and life in Osthos had almost returned to normal by the time Chief Twengor, accompanied by Duke Bherdor, reached the main gate. Althalus was a bit surprised to discover that Twengor was still avoiding strong ale. "Where's Khalor?" the vastly bearded Chief asked after he and Althalus had settled accounts.

"He's away-on business," Althalus replied evasively.

"He certainly moves around a lot."

"He's got a fairly big war on his hands."

"That's what I wanted to talk with him about. He was making loud noises about doing something sort of permanent to Kanthon after we'd mauled their armies. Since I'll be going in that direction on my way home anyway, I thought that maybe he and I should have a little talk."

"It probably wouldn't hurt. I see you've brought Duke Bherdor with you.

Twengor nodded. "He's a good boy, but he's such an innocent that the merchants in his town were able to bamboozle him about taxes. Now that Poma's in ruins, he'll get to start all over from the ground up. I told him that it might go a little smoother if he issued certain commands from Osthos for a while. If he's going to rebuild Poma, he's going to need money, and that means taxes. Bherdor wants the people of Poma to like him, and if I'd left him there, the merchants would have been all over him like a flock of vultures. He needs to study 'firm' for a while, and this might be the best place for him to get that kind of training."

"You've changed quite a bit, Chief Twengor."

"Now that I'm sober, you mean?"

"That might have something to do with it, yes."

"I was very sorry to hear about that redheaded shepherd," Twengor said. "It really upset those Wekti boys I had working for me. Did anybody get around to doing anything about it?"

"Brother Bheid took care of it."

"I wasn't talking about a funeral, Althalus."

"Neither was I. Bheid pounded a sword through the man who killed Salkan."

"A priest?" Twengor demanded incredulously. "I thought they weren't supposed to do that."

"I guess Bheid thought it was a special situation."

"I will never understand the lowlanders," Twengor said.

The chill of autumn had stripped the trees of their leaves by the time the invading armies had been driven out of Andine's realm, and the Dukes and Arum Clan Chiefs gathered in Osthos to consider further action.

"What it finally boils down to is the food supply," Duke Nitral observed in the conference room late one gloomy afternoon. "Burning off the wheat fields in central Treborea made good sense when we were being invaded, but now that winter's almost here, I think we're all having second thoughts about it."

"I might have an answer to that," Duke Olkar of Kadon said. "I have quite a few contacts among the grain merchants of Maghu. I'm sure they'll nudge their prices up just a bit, but there's plenty of wheat in Perquaine."

"We have to feed the peasants first," Andine declared. "I won't let my children starve."

"Your children?" Eliar sounded startled.

"Emmy's been talking to her, Eliar," Gher advised his friend, "and you know how Emmy is about things like that."

"You'll strip the treasury, my Arya," Lord Dhakan cautioned.

"That's just too bad. This is an emergency."

"The mother of Treborea hath spoken," Leitha intoned. "Pay heed unto her, lest she send you all to bed without any supper."

"That's not funny, Leitha," Andine snapped.

"I sort of liked it," Gher said, grinning impudently at Andine.

"Things might be a little chaotic in Perquaine at the moment," Duke Nitral cautioned Olkar. "Most of the invaders to the west of the River Osthos fled over into Perquaine after Kreuter and Dreigon raised the siege at Mawor, plus there's some peculiar religious turmoil over there."

"They're arguing about religion?" Twengor demanded incredulously. "Isn't that sort of like arguing about the weather?"

"The Perquaines get peculiar every so often," Nitral said, shrugging. "Sitting around listening to wheat grow gives them too much time for idle thought."

"The grain merchants in Maghu worship money," Olkar said. "I speak the same language, so we'll get along all right."

"I think this situation all boils down to short rations," Sergeant Khalor observed. "I know it's not customary, and it goes against most of what we've been taught, but I think we'd all better saddle up and move on Kanthon right now."

"A war in wintertime?" Koleika Iron jaw said dubiously. "That's the wrong time of year, isn't it?"

"It's not going to be much of a war, Koleika," Twengor told him. "All the mercenaries who were working for the Kanthons ran away after Kreuter and Dreigon mauled them, and the Aryo of Kanthon himself turned up mysteriously dead one morning last week. All we really have to do is swing by Kanthon on our way back home to Arum and invite them to surrender. I don't think they're going to argue with us, do you?"

"Twengor's got a good point, gentlemen," Chief Albron said. "Let's get out of Treborea as soon as we can." He smiled faintly. "I'm sure the mother of Treborea will miss us terribly, but if we start rummaging around in her pantry, she might get a little grumpy with us."

Lady Astarell, who sat at Albron's side, nudged him with her elbow.

"Yes?" he said, smiling fondly at her.

"Ask my uncle," she said shortly. "Do it now."

"This isn't really the proper time, dear."

"Do it, Albron, before you forget."

"Shouldn't we do that in private?"

"Did you plan to keep it a secret?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Just do it, Albron."

"Yes, dear." Albron cleared his throat. "Chief Kreuter," he said rather formally.

"Yes, Chief Albron," Kreuter replied. "What can I do for you?" The blond-bearded Plakander had a faint smile hovering about his lips.

"This is serious, Uncle," Astarell scolded him.

"Sorry, dear. I take it that you have a request of some kind, Chief Albron?"

"I beseech you, mighty Chief, to grant me the hand of your niece, Astarell, in marriage," Albron declared.

"What an amazing notion!" Kreuter said. "That idea never would have occurred to me in a thousand years."

"Will you stop that, Uncle?" Astarell flared.

"Just teasing, child." Kreuter grinned broadly at her. "What's your opinion in this matter? You could do worse, you know. Chief Albron doesn't know very much about horses, but otherwise, he's not bad."

"Oh," Astarell said with a mischievous little smile, "I guess he'll do."

"Astarell!" Albron objected.

"All right, Astarell," Kreuter said, "if this is what you really want, I'll be happy to oblige. Chief Albron, you have my permission to marry my niece. Does that make everybody happy?"

"A thousand horses, I think," Astarell said thoughtfully.

"I didn't quite follow that, dear," Kreuter confessed.

"My dowry, Uncle. A thousand horses seems about right to me-along with my wedding dress, of course."

"A thousand?" Kreuter almost screamed. "Are you out of your mind?"

"You do love me, don't you, Uncle? You're not just getting rid of me, are you?"

"Of course I love you, Astarell, but a thousand horses?"

"It lets everybody in Plakand know how much you value me, dear Uncle Kreuter," she said sweetly.

"Did you put her up to this, Albron?" Kreuter demanded.

"Actually, it's the first I've heard about it." Albron looked at Astarell in total bafflement. "What in the world am I supposed to do with a thousand horses?" he demanded.

"I don't really care, Albron. The number establishes my value. I'm not some beggar girl at the side of the road."

Albron and Kreuter exchanged a helpless took. "Yes, Astarell," they both said almost in perfect unison.

Winter had settled over central Treborea as the royal party rode north out of Osthos, and dirty clouds scudded chill and somber across the war-ravaged region.

They stopped briefly in Mawor, then rounded the lake to the city of Kadon. "I'll leave you now, my Arya," Duke Olkar said. "I'll negotiate as best I can with the grain merchants in Maghu, but I'm certain they'll try to skin me."

"I'm afraid that can't be helped, Olkar," she said. "I must have bread for my people."

"I think you both might be overlooking something," Althalus said. "There are granaries in Kanthon, and there hasn't been a war there-yet. When we take the city, the granaries become our property. You might want to mention that when you're negotiating with the bloodsuckers in Maghu, Duke Olkar. I wouldn't throw words like 'emergency' or 'starvation' around, if I were you. Try 'contingency' or 'possible spoilage' instead."

"You've done this sort of thing yourself, haven't you, Lord Althalus?" Olkar suggested.

"I've pulled off a few fairly elaborate flimflams on occasion, your Grace, yes," Althalus admitted, "and there's not really much difference between what you do and what I used to do, now is there?"

Olkar suddenly grinned at him. "That's supposed to be a secret, Lord Althalus," he chided.