"What do you mean, they missed?" Fidelias snapped. He gritted his teeth and folded his arms, leaning back in the seat within the litter. The Knights Aeris at the poles supported it as it sailed through low clouds and drifting snow, and the cold seemed determined to slowly remove his ears from the sides of his head.

"You really do hate flying, don't you?" Aldrick drawled.

"Just answer the question."

"Marcus reports that the ground team missed stopping the Cursor from reaching Count Gram. The air team saw a target of opportunity and took it, but they were detected before they could attack. The Cursor again. The two men with Marcus were killed in the attack, though he reports that Count Gram was wounded, probably fatally."

"It was a bungled assault from the beginning, not an opportunity. If they weren't forewarned before, they are now."

Aldrick shrugged. "Maybe not. Marcus reports that the Cursor and the Steadholder with her were subsequently arrested and hauled off in chains."

Fidelias tilted his head at Aldrick, frowning. Then, slowly, he started to smile. "Well. That makes me feel a great deal better. Gram wouldn't have arrested one of his own Steadholders without getting the whole story. His truthfinder must be in command now."

Aldrick nodded. "That's what Marcus reports. And according to our sources, the truthfinder is someone with a patron but no talent. House of Pluvus. He's young, no experience, not enough crafting to even do his job, much less to be a threat in the field."

Fidelias nodded. "Mmm."

"Lucky accident, it looks like. There was a veteran that was going to be set out with nearly two cohorts tertius, originally, but the paperwork got done incorrectly and they sent out a green unit instead."

"The crows it was an accident," Fidelias murmured. "It took me nearly a week to set it up."

Aldrick stared at him for a moment. "I'm impressed."

Fidelias shrugged. "I only did it to lessen the effectiveness of the garrison. I didn't think it would pay off this well." He wiped a snowflake from his cheek, irritably. "I must be living right."

"Don't get your hopes up too far," the swordsman responded. "If the Marat lose their backbones, all of this will be for nothing."

"That's why we're going out to them," Fidelias said. "Just follow my lead." He leaned forward and called to one of the Knights Aeris, "How much longer?"

The man squinted into the distance for a moment and then called back to him, "Coming down out of the cloud cover now, sir. We should be able to see the fires... there."

The litter swept down out of the clouds, and the abrupt return of vision made Fidelias's stomach churn uncomfortably, once he could see how far down the ground was.

And beneath them, spread out over the plains beyond the mountains that shielded the Calderon Valley, were campfires. There were campfires that spread into the night for miles.

"Hungh," Aldrick rumbled. He stared down at the fires, at the forms dimly moving around them for several moments, while they sailed over them. Then turned to Fidelias and said, "I'm not sure I can handle that many."

Fidelias felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "We'll make that the backup plan, then."

The litter glided to earth at the base of a hill that rose up out of the rolling plains. At its top stood a ring of enormous stones, each as big as a house, and within that circle of stones stood a still pool of water, somehow free of the ice that should have covered it. Torches rested between the

stones, their emerald flame giving strange, heavy smoke. It gave the place a garish light. The snow on the ground gave the whole place an odd light, and the pale, nearly naked Marat could be seen keeping out of the light of the nearest torches, watching them curiously.

Fidelias alighted from the litter and asked the same Knight he'd spoken to before, "Where is Atsurak?"

The Knight nodded up the slope. "Top of the hill. They call it a horto but it's up there."

Fidelias rolled his ankle, frowning at the pain in his foot. "Then why didn't we land at the top of the hill?"

The Knight shrugged and said apologetically, "They told us not to, sir."

"Fine," Fidelias said, shortly. He glanced at Aldrick and started up the hill. The swordsman fell in on his right and a step behind him. The slope made his feet hurt abominably, and he had to stop once to rest.

Aldrick frowned, watching him. "Feet?"

"Yes."

"When we wrap this up tomorrow, I'll go get Odiana. She's good at fixing things up."

Fidelias frowned. He didn't trust the water witch. Aldrick seemed to control her, but she was too clever for his liking. "Fine," he said, shortly. After a moment, he asked, "Why, Aldrick?"

The swordsman watched the night around them with neutral disinterest. "Why what?"

"You've been a wanted man for what? Twenty years?"

"Eighteen."

"And you've been a rebel the whole time. Fallen in with one group after another, and they've all been subversives."

"Freedom fighters," Aldrick said.

"Whatever," Fidelias said. "The point is that you've been a thorn in Gaius's side since you were barely more than a boy."

Aldrick shrugged.

Fidelias studied him. "Why?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I like knowing the motivations of the people I work with. The witch follows you. She's besotted with you, and I have no doubt that she'd kill for you, if you asked her to."

Again, Aldrick shrugged.

"But I don't know why you're doing it. Why Aquitaine trusts you. So, why?"

"You haven't worked it out? You're supposed to be the big spy for the Crown. Haven't you figured it out yet? Analyzed my scars or poked into my diaries, something like that?"

Fidelias half-smiled. "You're honest. You're a murderer, a sellsword, a thug-but an honest one. I thought I'd ask."

Aldrick stared up the hill for a moment. Then he said, tonelessly, "I had a family. My mother and my father. My older brother and two younger sisters. Gaius Sextus destroyed them." Aldrick tapped a finger on the hilt of his sword. "I'll kill him. To do that, I have to knock him off the Throne. So I'm with Aquitaine."

"And that's all there is to it?" Fidelias asked.

"No." Aldrick didn't elaborate. After a moment of silence, he said, "How are your feet?"

"Let's go," Fidelias said. He started back up the hill again, though the pain made him wince with every step.

Perhaps ten yards short of the summit of the hill, a pair of Marat warriors, male and female, rose out of the shadows around the base of the stones at the top of the hill. They came down toward them, through the snow, the man holding an axe of Aleran manufacture, the woman, a dark dagger of chipped stone.

Fidelias stopped short of them and held up his empty hands. "Peace. I have come to speak to Atsurak."

The man stepped up close to him, his eyes narrowed. He had the dark, heavy feathers of a herdbane braided through his pale hair. "I will not permit you to speak to Atsurak, outsider, while he is at the horto. You will wait until-"

Fidelias's temper flashed, and it was with a flicker of annoyance that he reached down into the earth to borrow strength from Vamma and dealt the axe-wielding warrior a blow that lifted the Marat's feet up off the ground and stretched him out senseless in the snow.

Without pausing, Fidelias stepped over the silent form of the fallen Marat. He limped up to the lean female warrior and said in exactly the same tone, "Peace. I have come to speak to Atsurak."

The Marat's amber-colored eyes flicked up and down Fidelias, bright

beneath heavy, pale brows. Her lips lifted from her teeth, showing canine fangs, and she said, "I will take you to Atsurak."

Fidelias followed her up the rest of the hill and to the great stones there. The smoke from the torches, heavy and dark along the ground, held a curious odor, and Fidelias found his head feeling a bit light as he stepped into it. He glanced back at Aldrick, and the swordsman nodded, nostrils flared.

Seven stones, smooth and round, their surfaces protruding above the heavy smoke, sat around a pool of water, somehow unfrozen despite the cold. The smoke seemed to sink into it and swirl beneath its surface, leaving it shining and dull, reflecting back the light of fires and the dull night glow of snow and ice.

Scattered around the pool were perhaps a hundred other Marat, their hair plaited with herdbane feathers, or else showing the shagginess of what Fidelias assumed to be the Wolf Clan. Male and female, they ate, or drank from brightly painted gourds, or mated in the sultry, dizzying smoke with animal abandon. In the shadows stood the tall, silent shapes of the herd-bane warbirds and crouched the low, swift shapes of wolves.

On one of the stones lounged Atsurak, his bruises all but gone already, the cuts bound in strips of hide and plaited grass. Aquitaine's dagger rode through a strap at his waist, the blade contained within a rawhide sheath and positioned to be clearly on display. On either side of him curled a female Marat warrior, of the heavy-browed and fanged variety. Both were naked, young, lithe.

The mouths of all three were smeared with fresh, scarlet blood. And bound over the stone beside them was the shivering form of a young Aleran woman, still wearing the shreds of a farm wife's skirts and apron, and still very much alive.

Aldrick's mouth twisted with disgust. "Savages," he murmured.

"Yes," Fidelias said. "We call them that because they're savage, Aldrick."

The swordsman growled in his throat. "They have moved too soon. There aren't any Aleran settlements on this side of the Valley."

"Obviously." Fidelias stepped forward and said, "Atsurak of Clan Herdbane. I understood that our attack was to begin two dawns from now. Was my understanding in error?"

Atsurak looked up, focusing on Fidelias, as an older woman, also showing the signs of Clan Wolf, rose from the smoke at the base of one of the stones, coated liberally in blood, and crossed to him. She folded her arms

casually over his shoulders, amber eyes on Fidelias. Atsurak lifted his hand to touch the woman's, without looking at her, and said, "We celebrate our victory, Aleran." He smiled, and his teeth were stained scarlet. "Have you come to partake?"

"You celebrate a victory you do not yet have."

Atsurak waved a hand. "For many of my warriors, there will be no chance to celebrate, after."

"So you broke our agreement?" Fidelias asked. "You struck early?"

The Marat lowered his brows. "A raiding party struck first, as is our custom. We know many ways in and out of the bridge valley, Aleran. Not ways for an army, but for a scouting party, a raiding party, yes." He gestured toward the bound girl. "Her people fought well against us. Died well. Now we partake of their strength."

"You're eating them alive?" demanded Aldrick.

"Pure," corrected Atsurak. "Untouched by fire or water or blade. As they are before The One."

As he spoke, a pair of Herdbane warriors rose to their feet and moved to the prisoner. With casual, almost disinterested efficiency, they drew her up, tore the clothes from her, and bound her back down over the stone again, belly up to the stars, arms and legs spread.

Atsurak looked over at the captive and mused through bloody lips, "We take more strength in this way. I do not expect you to understand, Aleran."

The girl looked around, frantic, her eyes red with tears, body shaking in the cold, her lips blue. "Please," she gasped, toward Fidelias. "Please, sir. Please help me."

Fidelias met her eyes. Then walked over toward the stone upon which she was bound. "Matters have changed. We must change the plans to suit them."

Atsurak followed him with his eyes, expression growing wary. "What change, Aleran?"

"Sir," the girl whispered up at him, her expression desperate, ugly with tears and terror. "Sir, please."

"Shhhh," Fidelias said. He rested his hand on her hair, and she broke down into quiet, subdued sobs. "We have to move forward now. The troops at Garrison may be warned of our coming."

"Let them know," Atsurak said, lazily leaning against one of the women at his side. "We will tear out their weak bellies regardless."

"You are wrong," Fidelias said. He raised his voice, enough that all of the Marat around the pool would hear. "You are mistaken, Atsurak. We must strike at once. At dawn."

Silence fell over the hilltop, abrupt, deep, almost as though the Marat were afraid to breathe. All eyes went from Fidelias to Atsurak.

"You call me mistaken," Atsurak said, the words low, soft.

"The younger of your people listen to the elder, headman of Clan Herdbane. Is that not true?"

"It is."

"Then you, young hordemaster, listen to me. I was there when last the Alerans fought your people. There was no glory in it. There was no honor. There was hardly any battle. The rocks rose against them, and the very grass beneath them bound their feet. Fire was laid on the ground, and fire swept over them and destroyed them. There was no contest, no trial of blood. They died like stupid animals in a trap because they grew too confident." He twisted his lips into a sneer. "Their bellies too full."

"You dishonor the memory of brave warriors-"

"Who died because they did not use what they had to fullest advantage," snarled Fidelias. "Lead your people to death if that is your wish, Atsurak, but I will be no party to it. I will not waste the lives of my Knights in an attempt to neutralize the Knights of a forewarned and prepared garrison."

Another Marat, a Herdbane, rose and snarled, "He speaks the words of an Aleran. The words of a coward."

"I speak the truth," Fidelias said. "If you are wise, young man, you will listen to the older."

Atsurak stared at him for several moments in silence. Then he exhaled and said, "The Alerans fight as cowards. Let us force them to the trial of blood before they can prepare their spirits to hide behind. We will attack at dawn."

Fidelias let out a slow breath and nodded. "Then this celebration is over?"

Atsurak looked at the captive, shivering beneath Fidelias's hand. "Almost."

"Please sir," the girl whispered. "Please help me."

Fidelias looked down at her and nodded, touching her mouth with his other hand.

Then he broke her neck, the sound sharp in the silence of the hilltop. Her eyes looked up at him in shock for a few seconds. Then went slowly out of focus and empty.

He let the dead girl's head fall limply back onto the stone and said, to Atsurak, "Now it is over. Be in position when the sun rises." He walked back across the circle to Aldrick, working to hide the limp.

"Aleran," snarled Atsurak, his voice heavy, bestial.

Fidelias paused, without turning around.

"I will remember this insult."

Fidelias nodded. "Just be ready in the morning." Without looking back, he walked, with Aldrick, back down the hill and toward the litter. Aldrick paced beside him, silent, scowling. Halfway down the hill, Fidelias's belly rolled violently, out of nowhere, and he had to stop and squat down, weight on his injured feet, his head bowed.

"What is it?" Aldrick asked, his voice quiet and cool.

"My feet hurt," Fidelias lied.

"Your feet hurt," Aldrick said, quietly. "Del, you killed that girl."

Fidelias's stomach fluttered. "Yes."

"And it doesn't even bother you?"

He lied again. "No."

Aldrick shook his head.

Fidelias took a breath. Then another. He forced his belly back under control and said, "She was dead already, Aldrick. Chances are, she'd just seen her family or friends eaten alive. Right there in front of her. She was next. Even if we had taken her out of there in one piece, she'd seen too much. We just would have had to remove her ourselves."

"But you killed her."

"It was the kindest thing I could do." Fidelias stood up again, his head clearing, slowly.

Aldrick remained quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Great furies. I've no stomach for that kind of killing."

Fidelias nodded. "Don't let it stop you from doing your duty."

Aldrick grunted. "You ready?"

"I'm ready," Fidelias said. They started back down the hill together. "At least we got the Marat moving." His feet still hurt horribly, but going back down the hill was easier than going up. "Get the men ready. We'll hit the Knights at Garrison just as we planned on the way here."

"We're down to the fighting, then," Aldrick said.

Fidelias nodded. "I don't think there are any major obstacles to the mission now."