"Ah, my young mistress."
"Crovax!"
He was still in his dusty armor. She could smell blood and smoke, and saw bits of wire grass snagged in his boots.
"Was that you?" she said, incredulous.
"You saw me? Oh yes, you're the emissary, you see everything." He seemed dizzy and shuffled his feet to keep his balance. "A bonus from our masters," he said. "I can will myself from point to point."
"Teleportation."
"Is that what it's called? Hard on the head, if you ask me." He called up a flowstone stool out of the floor and sat down.
"What about the army? Why did you leave them?"
"My army?" he exploded. "Worthless, cowardly cattle! I would have killed them all if I were Eladamri!"
"You lost your entire army?"
Crovax's face contorted. "I lost little of value."
"How many survived? Where are they now?"
He leaped to his feet. "Who are you to question me?"
"I am the emissary of the overlords," Belbe said calmly. "I ask you again, where is your army?"
"Out there." He flung a hand. "We fought a night battle. The rebels started a fire upwind of our position, and many of the soldiers were trapped by the flames."
"And Eladamri?"
Crovax's voice was almost inaudible. "He escaped."
The distant dream machinery near the ceiling clicked and whirred. For some seconds, it was the only thing moving or making noise in the Dream Halls.
Then Belbe spoke. "You failed."
The cold, hard edge returned to his voice. "This is only the first round. There are many acts yet to play."
"A new evincar must be named soon."
"Then name me! Who else can you choose? Greven? He's been a slave too long to know how to rule."
"There is another candidate." The flowstone around Belbe heaved like a sea swell. She ignored it, and when it was calm again she said, "I refer to Ertai."
"That boy? Do the overlords know you're considering that arrogant little cur?"
"The overlords know everything I do," she said stiffly. "Ertai has magical gifts far in excess of anyone else on Rath. His influence over flowstone grows daily."
"Can he command an army? Can he govern? Can he rule?"
"Those are questions still unanswered about you, Crovax. As for Ertai, he's intelligent, clever, and has many insights. It was Ertai, for example, who devised the stratagem of taking hostages from the local population to insure they wouldn't lend support to Eladamri's rebels."
Crovax broke into an awful, face splitting grin. "Hostages? What a delightful idea. I give the pup credit." He walked a slow circle around Belbe, close enough for her to feel his cold breath on her face. "How many hostages?"
"A thousand." Why she gave him the wrong figure, she didn't know.
"Where are they?"
"The ruins outside of the City of Traitors."
He stopped his perambulation directly behind her. "I see. Thank you, Excellency."
"For what?"
"For restoring my faith in the wisdom of our masters," he said. Cool fingertips brushed the back of her neck. "But hear me, girl. I will be Evincar of Rath."
"Are you threatening me, Crovax?"
The fingers were withdrawn. "Certainly not, Excellency. I merely pledge to do my utmost for the cause. You do your best for the overlords, don't you?"
"I do the task I was made for."
He suddenly enfolded her from behind in his powerful arms, one around her waist, the other around her neck. In a split-second decision, Belbe decided not to struggle but remained as relaxed as possible.
"We're allies after all," he said softly in her ear. "Cooperation can be as satisfying as competition-with the right company."
"I'm here to choose the best person for the job, whoever that is." Belbe still didn't move.
"No emotion involved?" Crovax asked.
"Emotion is not efficient."
Crovax tightened his grip.
"You can't overpower me, Crovax."
"I wouldn't dream of trying, Excellency." He dropped his arms, and Belbe stepped away. Adrenaline coursed through her. She felt like a coiled spring, all wound up. Crovax appeared quite calm.
"I want a full report on the battle in writing, detailing your losses, Eladamri's tactics, and the state of the army," Belbe said, inwardly shaking with excitement. She kept thinking about what it would be like to break Crovax's arms and legs. She knew just how to do it, even through his armor.
"As you wish. When shall I present my report?"
"You will wait upon my pleasure." Belbe imagined his face exploding in a shower of blood and bone fragments, his teeth falling like hailstones to the polished floor. "Where are the survivors of your force?"
"A few days' march from here."
"Will they make it back on their own?" With one kick she could crush his windpipe, and he would slowly strangle to death…
He shrugged. "That has more to do with Eladamri than my soldiers."
"Predator is flying again. I'll send Greven to find your men and escort them home. The ship has no weapons on board yet, but the rebels won't know that." With one blow she could drive the cartilage in his nose back into his brain.
He saluted. "Your Excellency is wise and frugal."
Crovax departed, and the Dream Halls doors closed silently behind him. Belbe leaped into the air, kicking her feet and pounding the air furiously with her fists. When this failed to satisfy her, she ran to the wall and punched an elaborate bas-relief depicting one of Volrath's dreams of glory. The flowstone walls, made to imitate marble, splintered under Belbe's blows. No sooner had the fragments fallen to the floor than they began climbing back up to rejoin the broken structure. She pounded on the wall until her knuckles were scored and weeping glistening oil. Panting with excitement, she stood back to catch her breath.
Her violence triggered the dream device overhead. With a hiss of servos and uncoiling wire, three dream catchers dropped to Belbe's eye level. In each was a dirty white "pearl", representing some dream experience the device thought appropriate to Belbe's current state of mind. She stared at the trio of machines and with a howl of pure fury, seized one in each hand and ripped them loose. The third dream catcher hastily retracted.
Belbe enjoyed crushing Volrath's dreams under her heel.
The army reached Chireef, the last outpost before the Stronghold, three days after the battle. A march that had taken Crovax a day and a half Nasser was content to do in twice the time. His men were tired, many were wounded, and no one was in a hurry to return home from a defeat.
Riders came back with the news that the blockhouse at Chireef seemed abandoned. The doors were closed and barred, and none of the garrison responded to the scouts' hails. Alarmed, Nasser and the Corps of Sergeants rode ahead of the main body with all the remaining cavalry to investigate what happened at Chireef.
The blockhouse looked deserted. Arrow slits were vacant. No sentries walked the roof. Some unknown banner hung limply from the flagpole-the air was too still to stir it. Despite repeated calls, no one inside the blockhouse responded.
The door was a massive bronze affair, and the Rathi soldiers were not equipped to batter it down. A team of four men was ordered to scale the blockhouse walls with ropes and grappling hooks. The outside of the blockhouse was as smooth as glass (to prevent just such attempts at climbing by the enemy), so it took some time before the soldiers were able to reach the roof. Three men were detailed to enter the blockhouse and open the outer door while the fourth hauled down the mysterious flag and tossed it to Nasser.
It was a triangle of rough green cloth with a simplified image of a red snake's head, fangs bared, in the center.
With a loud clank, the doors of Chireef rolled back. The cavalrymen who'd entered the blockhouse emerged looking puzzled. No one was inside, alive or dead. The place had been stripped clean-not even garbage was left.