"Well?" said Belbe. Her voice echoed in the vast empty hall.
"Your Excellency knows we have a network of spies and assassins operating outside the Citadel?" Greven said. "This is one of our agents."
The hooded figure kept his distance, standing aloof with his hands crossed. Belbe tried once again to see through the heavy cloak but with no more success. She had a fleeting impression the person beneath the cloth was evading her, changing even as she tried to identify him. It was an unsettling experience.
"Is there anything else you require?" asked Greven impatiently.
"Let me see your face," she said directly to the hooded one.
"Excellency-"
"Let me see your face."
Gloved hands rose and folded back the deep rim of the hood. A lean, feline head emerged with a wispy goatee and bifurcated upper lip. Greven's mysterious companion was a Kor.
He pressed his hand to his chest in formal fashion and said, "I am Furah, chief of the Fishers of Life."
"Furah must not be recognized inside the Citadel," Greven said. "It would compromise his safety as our agent."
"Of course," Belbe said. "Thank you for indulging my curiosity."
Belbe departed and Furah raised his hood again.
"Simple enough," said the Kor. "She won't be a problem."
"Don't underestimate her," Greven replied. "She may look like a child, but she was made by the overlords and has many talents."
"You've grown cautious, Greven. You didn't used to be."
"We're playing a very dangerous game. I value my life, wretched though it is."
Furah folded his hands into his voluminous sleeves. "Don't betray me, Greven."
The bitter warrior held his chin up and replied, "I betray no one! Just understand, this is your gamble, your fight. I will not hinder you-but I can't help you much, either."
Greven stalked away. The doors opened for him. Furah remained in the convocation room for a time, contemplating the tapestries and bas-reliefs commemorating the deeds of the previous evincar.
Ten rebels, clad in captured Rathi uniforms, walked single file across the dry plateau. The six Dal were lead by Teynel en-Dal, Darsett's nephew, wearing the helmet of a Rathi corporal. The four Vec followed Liin Sivi, now disguised as a Vec male. She'd cut off her long black hair close to her scalp and disguised the break between her hips and waist with a bloodstained bandage. The blood was realSivi had taken the wrapping from a dead Rathi soldier. Her ancestral weapon, the toten-vec, she coiled around her waist under the bandage. The toten-vec consisted of a bone handle, six feet of braided snakeskin leather fashioned like links of chain, and a double-ended, double-edged knife blade eight inches long. The snakeskin whip was threaded through a hole at the base of the knife. Because Vec nomads had so little access to good metal, they developed weapons like the totenvec in lieu of traditional swords. A skilled user could cut an enemy's throat from six feet away or take out an eye with a flick of the wrist. Sivi was an acknowledged master of the whip-knife, hence her title "Liin," which literally meant "striking viper."
Eladamri, suitably clothed in rags, sat on the back of a plodding kerl, his hands shackled together. The kerl's reins were carried by Medd, one of the Dal impostors. The elf had a copy of the shackle key hidden in his sash, so he could free himself if necessary. He was unarmed and bareheaded. He squinted against the steady stream of dust blown in his eyes. The tall cone of the Stronghold broke the silver horizon ahead. They were still a day's walk away.
The rebels were bored. They sang for a while, the Dal teaching the Vec their songs, and the Vec returning the favor with their own ululating repertory. After a few hours the songs ran out, and their throats grew dry. Eladamri refused to let them bring adequate water rations. They were supposed to be stragglers, survivors, not well-equipped commandos. If they arrived footsore and dried out, so much the better for verisimilitude.
Teynel shaded his eyes. "No sign of the airship," he said. "I kind of hoped they'd spot us and pick us up."
"Are you mad?" Sivi responded. "You couldn't get me into that flying machine!"
"It's better than walking," offered Khalil, one of the Vec warriors.
Sivi shook her head vigorously. "That machine is an unnatural creation. Some day the gods will strike it from the skies!"
"Strike away, but until then, I'd rather ride than walk," said Teynel.
"Want the beast?" said Eladamri, holding up the reins in his manacled hands.
Shamed, the young Dal declined. "I wouldn't ask Your Lordship to walk."
"I'm not a lord," the elf said sharply. "I don't carry any rank, either. Call me Eladamri, or brother, and nothing else."
"I thought only elves called each other 'Brother,'" said Sivi.
"Anyone who fights at my side can call me brother."
This put new spring in the rebels' step. They had covered a lot of ground by midday when they paused for a scant meal of Rathi army rations.
What little breeze there was died. Shamus, the Dal on lookout, spotted a rising column of dust in the distance.
"Someone comes," he announced.
"Keep your places," Eladamri advised. "You're not supposed to be alarmed by the sight of your fellow Rathi soldiers."
The origin of the dust proved to be a band of Kor a hundred strong, males, females, and children, marching in loose formation and bearing everything they owned on their backs. The sight was so unusual even Eladamri got to his feet. He whispered a few words to Teynel, who hailed the Kor band.
"Hold!" Teynel shouted. "Who are you people?"
Four male Kor bearing a stretcher on their shoulders promptly lowered their burden to the ground. The women squatted in the grass with the children, fanning themselves in the heat. A Kor elder approached Teynel with arms folded.
"Greetings, soldier of Rath!" he said. "I am Theeno, and these are my people, the Fishers of Life."
"Where are you going?"
"To the mountains far to the south, brave soldier. Our chief is dead, and we must leave our homes on Bluefire Mountain."
Now Teynel understood. Many people living outside the Stronghold referred to it as Bluefire Mountain.
"Why must you leave?"
"It was the dying wish of our chief. He was well known to your commander, Lord Greven."
Teynel stepped past Theeno. The body of a middle-aged Kor lay on the stretcher, draped in a diaphanous shroud. Midway between the collar and the hips, a dark brown stain was soaking through the shroud.
"This man died violently!" Teynel said.
"It is too true, soldier of Rath," Theeno said. "Our chief went to meet the lords of the crater, as was his wont, only this time he returned with his death wound."
Eladamri stood over the body. Ruse or no ruse, he had to know who lay dead on the carrier.
"Forgive me. I mean no disrespect…" The elf lord knelt and turned down the drape.
The dead Kor was Furah.
Eladamri covered the body again and stood up. He frowned at Teynel.
"Be on your way," Teynel commanded. "We have to deliver this prisoner to Lord Greven."
The Kor stared at Eladamri with slitted eyes. "This is Eladamri? He is an enemy," said Theeno. "Give him to Lord Crovax. He will dispatch him as he did the others."
Sivi stepped forward. "What others?"
Theeno smiled, showing prominent eye teeth. "Lord Greven gathered six thousand from the peoples of the crater to hold as hostage against those who would aid the vile rebels of the forest. When Lord Crovax returned from battle, he spared us, the Fishers of Life. He knew we were his loyal servants. The rest-" Theeno held two clawed fingers in front of his eyes and made a stabbing motion. "They burn even now."