Captain Beetlestone cleared his throat. "Lord Purdun," he started. "Things are going to get… chaotic in the next day. It is entirely possible that my men won't be available to come to your aid if one of these groups manages to breach Zerith Hold."

"What are you suggesting?" asked Purdun.

"I think it would be wise if you were to start wearing your armor inside the Hold."

Purdun nodded.

"And I would like to assign to you another bodyguard," Beetlestone looked up at Liam. "Someone to watch Liam's back the next time he decides to take on six Magistrates by himself."

Liam thought he detected a hint of a smile on the captain's face.

"Who did you have in mind?" asked the baron.

"Guardsman Knoblauch, sir," said Beetlestone.

Lord Purdun nodded, obviously weighing the suggestion in his mind. "You know my reservations," he said finally.

Beetlestone nodded. "Yes, but he is the best man I have. And if I may be frank-" He stopped, looking to the baron for approval.

Purdun nodded. "Of course."

"If Knoblauch had been accompanied by a second man, one to watch his back as I am suggesting for Liam, then the unfortunate events of several years ago may never have happened."

Purdun took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face. "All right, Beetlestone. Send him up." He turned to look at Liam. "We can use all the help we can get."

Ryder woke late in the day. The sun was high in the sky, and the soldiers of the Broken Spear were quietly preparing themselves. All of the plans had been laid out the previous night. They all knew what they were supposed to do.

Ryder too knew what he had to do. He had to end this thing. He had to take the head from the serpent before it could strike at him. Once he had killed Purdun, he would locate Liam and the rest of the Crimson Awl. With the baron dead, they would have a real shot at taking Zerith Hold.

Tonight would be the spark that ignited the fire. It would be the break the Awl had always waited for.

He looked out over the men and women around him. With the addition of the Broken Spear, the Awl would be twice as strong. His gaze searched the group and fell upon Giselle.

She was a fine leader. It would be nice to have someone to fall back on. The Awl had always lacked strong leaders. He hoped that Liam had risen to his expectations and been able to keep the momentum in his absence. He would soon find out.

Then there was Nazeem. The Chultan sat calmly on the edge of camp, his legs crossed, his eyes closed, meditating. Ryder wasn't sure where this man would fit into the overall plans. But somehow he knew that Nazeem would play a vital role. The tattooed man always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. He had a knack for showing up when he could do the most good. Ryder smiled to himself. He supposed those were skills one had to hone if one wanted to become a successful criminal. However he had come by them, Nazeem's ability to seemingly appear and disappear at will would be useful tools moving forward.

Giselle touched Ryder's arm. "Are you ready?"

He nodded. "You?"

Giselle smiled. "We will be waiting for your signal," she said. "You just stay alive long enough for us to have something to do. I would hate to have come all this way for nothing."

"I would hate that too," he replied.

Giselle placed her hand on his chest, her eyes lingering on his for a long moment. Then she reached up and gave him a kiss.

Ryder felt a wave of sadness fill him. "Giselle-"

"For luck," she said. Then she pushed him away. "Now take Curtis and go. We will see you before sunrise."

Ryder placed a hand to his lips, the soft wetness of her kiss still lingering. Then he turned and walked away.

"All right, listen up," said Captain Phinneous. He had his entire unit assembled in the common room of the barracks inside Zerith Hold. "I have volunteered all of you for late-night guard duty tonight."

This brought a few moans and groans from the men.

Under other circumstances, Phinneous might have been angry. But not today. Today he was going to get a little revenge. Nothing could spoil his good mood.

"All right, quiet down," he said. "I know none of you like that too much, but I have a little surprise for you."

The men quieted down.

"I have word that Ryder of Duhlnarim has found his way back to Ahlarkham."

"I thought he'd been shipped off to Westgate," shouted a soldier.

"Aye, lad," said Captain Phinneous. "Somehow the bastard has earned his freedom, and he's come back to finish what he started."

Phinneous looked at each of the men, making sure his words sank in. "I have it on good authority that he's going to try to infiltrate Zerith Hold tonight."

"Ah," shouted the same guard. "And we're going to be there to catch him." He slapped the guard next to him on the arm in celebration. "We'll all be heroes."

The men let out a huzzah!

Captain Phinneous shook his head. "No, lads," he said. "I've got an even better idea." The men grew quiet again as Phinneous leaned in, talking just above a whisper. "We're gonna let the man in and let him get all the way to the baron's sitting room."

"Why would we do that?"

Captain Phinneous smiled a huge bucktoothed grin. "Because, boys, we'll have a surprise waiting for our guest when he arrives. Stay sharp tonight. I've got hunch we'll be in for a spectacular show."

It was the darkest part of the night. The moon had yet to rise over the Deepwash as Ryder and Curtis inched their way closer to Zerith Hold.

There were only two ways into the fortress. The most accessible was the same way Ryder had been taken out-through the stables and barracks in the back where all of Purdun's elite guardsmen lived and slept. Even with Curtis's illusions, Ryder doubted there was much of a chance of his making it in through there undetected.

The other way was through the front gate. Though it, too, was heavily watched, there were far fewer guardsmen around and not nearly as much traffic. The back of the Hold was where all the real business-the comings and goings of merchants and soldiers-took place. The front was more for diplomatic purposes, and it didn't see as much use.

That night, Ryder was going to be a visiting foreign dignitary-an uninvited ambassador from Fairhaven.

Though the portcullis and double doors that blocked entry to Zerith Hold were down and closed, the drawbridge had not been raised. A person so inclined could walk right up to the front door of Zerith Hold and knock on the heavy wood. That wouldn't be the way Ryder chose to enter.

The huge chains that lifted the bridge back up against the doors of the Hold hung slack from the top of the wall. They attached to the wooden drawbridge by two large cast-iron hooks that were forged directly into the bridge. The links of the chain rose into the air, sagging as they climbed toward the top of the wall and through two large holes in the stone. Ryder had never seen the other side of the door, but he assumed the rest of the chains were connected to a wheel or a pulley, some mechanism that allowed a handful of guardsmen to open and close the drawbridge as the need arose.

Ryder watched the guards on top of the wall. From what he could tell, there were only a handful of them up there. They were paired off, and they marched from one end of the wall on a strict rotation. In the time it took Ryder to count to three hundred, one patrol had covered the entire length of the wall and had moved out of sight.

As they patrolled, the guards hardly even turned their attention away from their conversations. Only once did Ryder see a soldier actually look out off the wall through the crenellations. They really weren't paying any attention to the ground in front of the Hold, seemingly convinced that the doors, the portcullis, and their presence would make anyone wanting to get in think twice.