"He's coming around." That was one of the northerners. He forced his vision to focus, rolled his head. The brothers squatted beside him. Haaken had his arm in a light sling. He appeared to be covered with dried blood.

Around them, now, Haroun discerned other shapes, men sitting quietly, waiting. "What happened?"

Bragi said, "Some sorcerer dumped a mountain on us."

"I know that. After that."

"We threw you on the horse and headed for the wizard just as his men charged us. We cut our way through and wound up here with the General. More men keep turning up. Your father is out looking for strays."

"How bad was it?"

The mercenary shrugged. He was floating on the edge of shock. For that matter, everyone around them seemed dulled, turned inward. It had been bad, then. A major defeat, consuming all the hopes raised by the advent of the Guildsmen.

Haroun tried to rise. Haaken made him lie still. "Broken ribs," he growled. "You'll poke a hole in your lung."

"But my father—"

"Sit on him," Bragi suggested.

Haaken said, "Your old man's gotten along without you so far."

Still Haroun tried to rise. Pain bolted across his chest. Lying still was the only way to beat it.

"That's better," Bragi said.

"You cut your way out? Through the Invincibles?" He vaguely recalled a clash of arms and flashes of men in white.

"They're not so hot when they're not on their horses," Haaken said. "Go to sleep. Getting excited won't do you no good."

Despite himself, Haroun followed that advice. His body insisted.

Yousif was standing over him when next he wakened. His father's left arm was heavily bandaged. His clothing was tattered and bloody. Fuad was there too, apparently unharmed, but Haroun had no eyes for his uncle. Wearily, his father was interrogating the Guildsmen through Megelin Radetic.

His father looked so old! So tired. So filled with despair.

Haroun croaked, "Megelin," overjoyed that fate had not seen fit to slay the old man. His death would have made the disaster complete.

His father knelt and gripped his shoulder, as demonstrative a gesture as the man could manage. Then duty called him elsewhere. Megelin stayed, seated cross-legged, talking softly. Haroun understood only a third of what he heard. The old scholar seemed to be talking about economic forces in one of the western kingdoms and deliberately ignoring present straits. Sleep closed in again.

When next he wakened the sun had risen. He was lying on a rolling litter. He could see no one who was not injured. His mercenary saviors had vanished.

Megelin appeared, drawn by some signal from the bearers. "Where is everybody, Megelin?"

Radetic replied, "Those who are able are trying to stall the pursuit."

"They're close?"

"Very. They smell blood. They want to finish it."

But Sir Tury Hawkwind in defeat proved more magnificent than Sir Tury Hawkwind achieving victory. The defeated column reached el Aswad safely.

Physicians set and bound Haroun's ribs. He was up and around almost immediately, against medical advice, blindly trying to encompass the enormity of the disaster.

Two thirds of the force had been lost. Most had been slain in the landslide and following attack. "But that's history," his father told him. "Now the enemy is at the gate and we don't have enough soldiers to man the walls."

It was true. El Nadim had pressed the chase right to the gate and though he did not have the manpower to undertake a proper siege, he had begun siegework. He had erected a fortified camp and begun constructing engines. His men were digging a ditch and erecting a barricade across the road. That looked like the first step toward circumvallation.

"What are they up to?" Haroun asked Megelin. "Three thousand men can't take el Aswad."

Radetic was glum. "You forget. Nothing is impossible to the True Believer."

"But how?"

"Recall the night attack."

"The lightning. A sorcerer that knocked a mountain down. But El Murid hates sorcery."

"True. Yet one sorcery is entwined in his legend. It hasn't been seen since shortly after he stumbled out of the desert."

"The amulet that he claims his angel gave him? I thought that was all made up."

"It happened. Apparently he's decided to use it again. I'd guess our walls will be his next target."

"El Murid is out there?"

"He is."

"Then Father ought to sortie. If we killed him... "

"Nothing would please them more than to have him try."

"But—"

"I discussed this with your father and General Hawkwind. They've decided to let el Aswad take its punishment. Let them break the wall. The amulet will be useless in close fighting."

Haroun did not like the strategy. It depended too much on the enemy doing the expected, too much on his not receiving reinforcements. But he protested no more. He had a glimmering of a scheme, and did not want to make Megelin suspicious.

"Did you ask Father about those Guildsmen?"

"I mentioned it. He'll do something when he gets time."

Haroun was pleased. Bragi and Haaken had saved his life. They deserved a reward. "Thank you."

"Have you completed those geometry exercises?" Radetic had no mercy. There was no break in the studies, even for convalescence.

"I've been busy... "

"Busy malingering. Go to your quarters. Don't come out till you have solutions you're prepared to defend."

"There's the old guy," Haaken said.

Bragi turned, watched Megelin Radetic make his way along the battlements. Radetic paused to talk to each soldier. "He remind you a little of Grandfather?"

"Keep an eye on those fools out there," Haaken said. "Or Sanguinet will eat you alive."

Little had been said about the recruit company's failure in battle. No fatigues or punishments had been enforced. Rumor said Hawkwind believed the recruits had done well, considering the terrain and concentrated resistance they had faced.

The veterans were less understanding. Their General's record had been sullied. Hundreds of comrades were dead. They didn't care that the briny water had been thigh deep, nor that the recruits had borne the brunt of the fury of El Murid's army. They saw more recruits surviving than members of any other company, and they were not pleased.

Radetic reached the youths. He paused between them, leaned on a merlon. Below, el Nadim's men were hard at work. "Confident as ants, aren't they?"

"Maybe they got reasons," Haaken grumbled.

Bragi did not respond. He did not know how to take the older man. Radetic was important here, yet seldom acted it. He did ask, "How's Haroun?"

"Mending. The Wahlig sends his regards. He'll thank you personally when he has a free moment."

"Okay."

"So enthusiastic! He's a generous man. Haroun is his favorite son."

"The only thing I could get enthusiastic about is getting out of here."

Radetic made a thoughtful "Hmm?" sound.

"It's hot and dry and there's nothing out there but miles and miles of nothing."

"My patrimony for a decent tree. I feel the same sometimes." Radetic patted Bragi's shoulder. "Homesick, lad?"

Bragi blustered—then poured out his story. Radetic looked interested, and encouraged him whenever he faltered.

He was homesick. Much as he pretended otherwise, he was just a boy forced into a man's role. He missed his people.

Bragi related his feelings about the defeat. Radetic patted his shoulder again. "No need to feel shame there. The General was surprised you held up so well. If there's any blame due, it belongs to him and the Wahlig. They got cocky. And you soldiers paid the price. I'd better move along."

Bragi did not understand what the old scholar had done, but he did feel better. And Haaken didn't look half as glum.

Sergeant Trubacik arrived moments later. "The Lieutenant wants you, Ragnarson. Get your butt down there."