"And?"
"Two points. What happens if Megelin loses? Another round of El Murid wars? The man is old and fat and crazier than ever. He'll want to get even with everybody who helped Haroun. Second point. The general calls himself Badalamen."
"Badalamen? Never heard of him."
"You have. In a divination, remember? So cloudy, but the name came through as dangerous...."
"Yeah. Now I remember."
"We've reasoned thus: Badalamen was furnished by O Shing, to reverse El Murid's fortunes because Shinsan isn't ready to move. This business with Argon was probably geared to an attack next summer. But we've wrecked that.
"Oh. I heard about your fight with the Tervola. He's still here. With the Fadema. Haaken gave me the mask. I didn't recognize it. It does look a lot like Chin's. He might have changed it after Baxendala. If it is Chin, he's as dangerous as Tervola come. We'd save a lot of grief by killing him. But to the matter in Hammad al Nakir.
"It's my guess that your reaction has been more effective than O Shing expected. And there's Radeachar. So he's put this Badalamen in to threaten your flank."
"He another Tervola?"
"No. Marco says he's pretty ordinary. You've seen the eastern martial arts artists? The way they use an opponent's strengths against him? That's the way Badalamen operates.
"I don't think he's human at all. Nu Li Hsi and Yo Hsi both tried to breed superhuman soldiers. O Shing was the result of one experiment. I'd guess Radeachar is another. I doubt the work stopped with the passing of the Princes Thaumaturge."
Ragnarson pursed his lips, sucked air across his teeth. "There's not a lot we can do about it, is there?"
"No. I just wanted you to know. I'd say it makes it imperative that we kill the Tervola here. He's bound to be one of O Shing's top men."
"And the Fadema," Ragnarson added. "Whoever takes over might think twice about being Shinsan's stalking horse."
"Marco went to Necremnos, too," Visigodred said. "Ptho-thor has gathered an army. But he's in no hurry to get here. Waiting to hear how we did. Doesn't want to throw live men after dead."
"Can't blame him. Well, I'd better tell Haaken we've got to get that tower."
Having admonished Ragnar again, Bragi departed. Zindah-jira resumed fulminating in the stacks. Bragi chuckled. Someday he'd have to find out what had started that.
The Fadema stubbornly refused to surrender. Days passed. The impasse persisted. Ragnarson worried.
The city garrisons recovered. Troops from out of townreinforced them. Ragnarson had to lock his force into the Fadem. His men stayed busy defending its walls. He expected a major assault.
There could be no escape, now, without victory. And that appeared to be slipping away -unless Necremnos came.
The first week ended. Except for the Queen's stronghold, the Fadem was his. Outside, the Argonese seemed content to wait, to starve him out. Their probes he beat back with heavy losses. Necremnos was moving, but slowly, willing to let Kavelin do the heavy dying.
The stalemate persisted, though Ragnarson didn't sit still. His engineers worked round the clock to tunnel into the Queen's tower. He battered its walls with captured engines. He tried sending Marena Dimura up its wall by night.
The sappers completed the tunnels the last day of the second week.
Ragnarson chose his assault teams carefully. Haaken and Reskird each led one, and he took the third. Ahring mounted a vicious diversion outside.
The bailey was a cylindrical tower with thick walls and little room inside. The easiest entry, once the single door had been sealed, was over the top-almost a hundred feet above the encircling street.
Unless one penetrated its basements. An obvious and antici-| pated tactic. The defenders would be waiting. It would be rough.
Bragi didn't doubt the outcome. His concern was keeping costs down.
His engineers tested to see if the basements had been flooded. They hadn't. Some other greeting waited.
Bragi expected fire.
It didn't materialize. Again, Argon's initial lack of readiness told.
It was a savage melee, fought through dim passages and narrow doors, Ragnarson's men advancing by sheer mass. The defenders remained stubborn despite the hopelessness of their situation.
It went floor by floor, hour by hour.
"Why the hell don't she give up?" Bragi asked Kildragon. "She's just wasting lives."
"Some people keep hoping."
"Marshall! We're at the top."
"Okay! Reskird, Haaken, this's it. Send for Varthlokkur."
The wizard appeared immediately. Ragnarson and his friends forced themselves into the Fadema's last redoubt.
She had but two soldiers left. Both were wounded, but remained feisty.
And the Tervola was there. Ethrian, bound and gagged, stood behind him.
"My Lord Chin," said Varthlokkur. "It's been a while."
Chin bowed slightly. "Welcome to Argon, old pupil. You learned well. Someday you'll have to teach me the secret of the Unborn."
"I have no taste for teaching. Is there anything you'd care to tell us, My Lord? So we can avoid the rough parts?"
"No. I think not." Chin glanced at an hourglass. He didn't seem worried.
Ragnarson grew wary. These people always had something up their sleeves....
He collected a fallen javelin, pretended to examine it. "Something's going to happen," he whispered to Reskird. "Start moving the men out."
Chin responded to the withdrawal with the slightest of frowns and a touch of nervousness.
"My Lord," said Ragnarson. "Could you tell me why you killed my people? My wife never did anything to you." Iron and pain tinged his voice.
Chin glanced at the hourglass, brought his sword to guard. "Nothing personal. You're in the way. But we'll correct that soon enough. The hour has come."
For an instant Ragnarson thought that the Tervola meant it was his moment to die. Then, when Varthlokkur gasped and staggered, he realized Chin had been warning his companions.
The Power had come alive. A portal had opened behind Chin and the Fadema.
The Tervola attacked. Haaken and Michael met him, prevented his blade from reaching the Marshall. The Fadema came at Bragi with a dagger identical to that he had taken off the leader of the assassins who had killed Elana. A trooper savaged her knife hand with a wild swing, kicking the dagger toward his commander. He tried to follow up. Bragi grabbed his arm, yanked him away from Chin's blade.
"Thanks." He slapped the dagger into the soldier's hand. It was rich booty, a spell-blade worth a fortune.
Chin hurled the two Argonese soldiers, the Fadema, and Ethrian into the portal's black maw, chanting a hasty spell. Varthlokkur responded with a warding spell.
Chin jumped for the portal. His magick roared through the chamber.
Bragi hurled the javelin, then dropped to the floor, rubbed his eyes. He couldn't see. His skin felt toasted.
He moaned.
"Easy," said Varthlokkur. "You'll be all right. I blocked most of it."
Ragnarson didn't believe him. "Did I get him?" he demanded. "Did I get him?" Chin's life almost seemed worth his eyes.
"I don't know. I'm sorry. I don't."
TWENTY-SEVEN: Mocker Returns
The brown man watched from the shadows. He shivered, sure Varthlokkur would notice him. But only one man glanced his way, a squat, hard looker he didn't recognize. The youth didn't react to his stare.
His breath hissed away. Relieved, he waited till they rounded a corner, then followed.
What were they up to? Bragi and Varthlokkur had no business being in Necremnos. And who was the Necremnen? Everyone seemed to know and fear him.