"I'm insulted," said Bunniswot (bingo, thought Toede). "At most I want your input into the history I will write about your life and career."

"Done," said Toede. Having gone through the list, the hobgoblin returned the conversation to its starting place. "And you, Necromancer, what do you want?"

"There are casualties in every conflict," said the zombie. "Their deaths will swell my ranks. I will not dissemble to inferiors, so I tell you that I foresee many deaths in this conflict. I demand all the bodies of the dead after the battle is over."

Toede shot a look at the other members of the rebellion. Charka was scowling, but both Rogate and Taywin were nodding-the hard, cold-faced agreement of soldiers to whom death was no stranger. Renders looked as though he had swallowed part of his ear, and Bunniswot was going pale once again.

The zombie ignored all this. "Also, I want your body."

"You're not my idea of a suitable mate," said Toede.

"You jest," said the necromancer, not jesting. "If you perish in the assault, I want your physical remains. Among other things, I am curious whether you are able to return with or without your body, or to the same location in your next life. Purely scientific interest."

"Purely," said Toede, thinking that the necromancer could build an army of hobgoblin bodies should Toede kick off every six months. Then another image crossed his brain, of an undead Toede sitting on the throne of Flotsam, controlled by the necromancer.

"Only if I perish in battle," Toede qualified. Even through the mask of undead flesh Toede could detect the flicker of greed.

"Done," said the necromancer. "How soon before the kender can mass at the edge of Flotsam's fields?"

Taywin looked at the zombie. "Three days, maybe four."

"Make it three," said the necromancer. The auguries are right for three days hence. In the morning, south of the city, where the walls are still ruined. Will the gnolls be ready for a fight?"

"Charka always ready!"

"Meet the kender there the night before," said the zombie. "My forces will be ready the next morning. Are there any questions?" There was only silence from the other members of the rebellion.

"Good." The zombie pitched forward, dissolving into dust as it fell. Its bones landed and shook apart where it struck the ground.

Rogate fished the amulet from the now-truly-dead creature's stiff fingers.

"What an odd and unpleasant individual," sniffed Renders.

"Aye," said Toede. "But at least he is one I can understand."

In which Our Protagonist receives much advice from many visitors on the night before the battle, and we witness the Last Temptation of Toede.

The next two days passed quickly, what with the preparations for war. In the case of the kender this consisted of a number of parties and rallies, and several long explanations as to why they could not take everything that might be useful into battle. There were a surprising number of cast-iron frying pans that had been pressed into temporary service as maces and cudgels that now needed to be returned to their original owners. Sometimes Toede felt he was leading a grade-school outing as opposed to a military operation.

The others were little help. Bunniswot returned to Flotsam (over Toede's objections, but with the approval of the others) to keep an eye on Groag and report any major troop movements. With her father, Taywin handled the daily routine of drilling the kender troops (making sure they all charged in the same direction). Rogate was good for pep talks but still lousy for tactics. Charka and Renders were gathering their forces, while the necromancer remained decidedly aloof.

Toede threw himself into the preparations with halfhearted zeal, spending his evenings studying "his" text on the philosophy of government. Bunniswot had given him the magically lighted stone, but even with that advantage, he made slow progress. The margins were filled with Bunniswot-inspired gloss, explaining, for example, what Toede truly meant by the story of the shepherdess and the three priests of Hiddukel. His explanations were almost as dense and detailed as the text itself, though not nearly as amusing.

Throughout it all, the back of Toede's mind struggled with the nagging question: What happens when it goes wrong this time? Not if. When. Even with a dragon high-lord's army under his command, there was always a chance that something would go wrong. That the third enemy warrior on the left wasn't just some peasant, but the grandson of a wizard, and in the middle of the battle would start flinging fireballs. Or that the enemy standard was really a gold dragon. Or that one's own troops would have a sudden case of the chills, the gout, the mange, or dropsy.

And that was with trained troops, such as the professionals Groag would have at his beck and hire. With this lot-well, Toede planned on using gnolls as shock troops, the kender as skirmishers and streetfighters, and the necromancer's unnamed and unnumbered forces as the cavalry, if the others got repulsed, to cover their retreat.

Toede supposed it could be worse. They could be gnomes.

The highmaster explained the general outline of the attack to Rogate, Taywin, Kronin, Charka, and Renders. They nodded and agreed, since it met with their own racial tendencies. The gnolls would have smashed themselves against the walls if they thought it would work, and the kender liked the idea of fighting from a lot of cover. Rogate liked the idea of anything smacking of holy vengeance, and left with Kronin to inspect the troops (again). Renders just nodded and pretended as if he understood.

None of the five other leaders noted what Toede considered to be the hallmark of his plan-namely, that it put the

bulk of his army between him and Groag's forces in Flotsam. If Groag's mercenaries and guards folded as precipitously as Bunniswot seemed to think they would, then the city would be seized without his presence on the front line.

If, as Toede suspected, Groag gave a last-minute pep-talk in the form of emptying the treasury's coffers for the troops, and the attack failed, then he wanted to be as far away from the scene as possible.

The assault would take place along the south, at the ruined sections of the wall that Jugger had created and Groag had insufficiently repaired. The western half of the city would be ignored; the idea was to charge the Rock and taken out the existing government (meaning Groag and his flunkies) with minimum losses.

And minimum meant Toede intended to stay alive. He flirted with the idea of just sneaking out of camp now, heading for the dwarven cabin in the hills, and finding out later from some passing skald who won. After all, a live coward is better than a dead hero.

No, he decided, if he did that, then probably they would win, and it would be Kronin who would rule Flotsam and Toede who would be caught for poaching. That was the way his life (or lives) was working out of late.

As it turned out, Toede was not the only one concerned about the survival of a rebellion member. He was talking with Taywin over the remains of the evening meal when Charka dropped to their eye-level with a squatting thud, interrupting their discourse.

"Charka lead troops," said the gnoll chieftain, "but want Renders to be safe in rear."

"Actually, I'd rather be with you and your entourage," said the human scholar, but Charka would not be swayed.

"Renders no has magic," went the gnoll's argument. "Renders no has muscle. Renders going to tell enemy stories? Maybe hit them with brain? No, Renders stays behind at camp."

"Leave Renders with me," said Toede, "behind the main body, but in a position to come up fast if the attack breaks down." He'll be a big help then, he added privately.