“My captain,” the elf gasped. “I beg to report the Emerald Division routed!”

Blood suffused Karn's face. “Routed by whom?” he screamed.

“Sir-Captain-they wore the arms of our Diamond Division!”

“That's impossible. The Diamonds were attacked and defeated a few hours ago,” Karn said.

“There were hundreds and hundreds,” the elf cried. “Some were just diggers. Others wore warrior's plate and carried swords. And-there was a wagon-”

“Wagon? What wagon?”

“Yes, sir. It was pushed by diggers with masks over their faces. Smoke came out of a pipe on the wagon, smoke that blinded us and made us weep and sneeze.”

Karn drew his sword and scanned the orchard. “How long ago was this?”

“Not long, my captain. Perhaps an hour or less.”

Riverwind laid the slain Diamond warrior down and came to Karn's side. He'd heard what the elves had said.

“Shall we pursue these agents of Loreman?” he asked.

“Pursue?” Karn was quickly losing what little composure he had. “We'd better prepare to defend ourselves!”

“They won't attack us. Not here,” the plainsman said.

“How do you know?” Karn's body quivered with rage and his face was nearly purple.

“They ambushed two bands of warriors. They'll not attack a fully warned group in the open,” he said. “Loreman would more likely sneak around us and head for the village.” This idea hit him with belated force. “Goldmoon! She will need us!”

“What are you raving about? Vartoom is still defended by the Host.” Karn took several deep breaths. The tremors in his limbs stilled and his color began to return to normal. “I have decided what we will do. The Emerald warriors can join us. We'll skirt the orchard and try to make contact with the Garnet Division.”

“And then?” asked the Emerald corporal, still sniffling.

“Then-then I will consider what to do next,” Karn said stiffly.

About a hundred soldiers of the Emerald Division filled in the ranks of Karn's troops. The Hestites marched on, keeping the orchard on their left and the city on their right. Fear was infecting the rank and file, fear made worse as the surviving Emeralds told their story to their brothers in Ruby.

“The choking clouds!”

“Javelins raining from the air-”

“Hundreds of armed diggers, and they weren't afraid of us!” And that, more than anything, terrified the warriors.

Catchflea surveyed the mass of prisoners taken by the Blue Sky People in their first two attacks. Almost three hundred warriors knelt in a close circle, stripped of arms and armor, guarded by grinning diggers. The pepper fog had been successful far beyond the old soothsayer's dreams. Two diggers, one a former miller, the other an expert forge-maker, contrived a bellowslike device that sprayed the pepper at the enemy. Mounted on a wagon, the pepper fog machine had ensured their amazing early victories.

The bows, however, were less successful. True, the Blue Sky's first apprentice archers had hit several of the Diamond warriors in the first attack, but before the fight was over, all but one of the bows was broken. In their excitement, the diggers used their valuable bows as clubs, splintering them against the warriors' armor.

Mors was in a buoyant mood. Di An led him to the place where the warriors were being held. Vvelz followed silently behind the blind elf.

“How do they look?” Mors asked.

“They weep,” Catchflea replied. “For shame and the pepper in their eyes, yes.”

“You proved your worth, old giant,” Mors said. He clapped Catchflea on the back. “Just think what we'll accomplish together in the future.” Catchflea didn't like the sound of that. Seeing the red-faced, weeping warriors made him sad. And the dead from both sides haunted him. He had been with the Blue Sky People only five days. What indeed would be the result if he continued to aid Mors? He thought of Riverwind and wondered where the tall man was.

Vvelz was unhappy, too. Formerly Mors's most important advisor, he now found himself shunted in favor of Catchflea. Mors had begun to ask the old man's advice on matters other than those concerning the surface world-like how to govern Vartoom once Li El was deposed. Catchflea tried to shy away from the subject, since Li El was far from finished, but Mors insisted, asking about the Que-Shu political system. Catchflea outlined his people's method of electing a chief.

“A strange doctrine,” said Mors. “I can understand the part about choosing a brave and resourceful warrior to lead you, but what is that about marrying the previous chieftain's daughter? What has that to do with finding a strong ruler?”

“We believe it important to have a chief who is close to the gods,” Catchflea said. “Our chieftain's daughter is the spiritual leader of our people-our priestess.”

“Are your priestesses skilled in magic?” asked Vvelz.

“Almost never.”

The sorcerer's light-colored eyes widened. “No?”

“The Que-Shu have little to do with the magical arts, other than healing and communing with the spirits of our ancestors.”

Vvelz assumed a look of deep concentration. “By your ways, then, the best thing Mors could do, once we defeat the Host, is marry Li El and rule with her.”

The blind warrior moved with remarkable speed. He jabbed the end of his staff into Vvelz's stomach. The slender sorcerer doubled over in pain and shock.

“Why-strike me?” Vvelz groaned.

“You should not make such remarks,” Mors said stiffly. “And thank your destiny I didn't have a sword in my hands.”

Vvelz backed away, shooting venomous looks at Mors. He slowly straightened, rubbing his bruised stomach. Catchflea offered to help him, but the sorcerer coolly declined the old man's hand. The air was thick with tension. Catchflea wondered what would happen next.

A digger ran headlong into the scene, tripping on a stone and sprawling at Mors's feet. Catchflea grasped the digger by the back of her black copper shirt and hauled her up. It was Di An.

“The warriors are coming!” she gasped.

Mors jumped up. “Where and how many?”

“Very many-more than we have faced before,” the elf girl said. She flung an arm out, pointing. “That way.”

Mors didn't see her gesture, but he scowled. Standing well out of the reach of the blind warrior's staff, Vvelz said, “Karn did not do as you expected. He did not retreat to the city.”

“No, someone has stiffened his spine,” Mors said darkly.

“The other giant is with Karn,” Di An reported.

“Riverwind is with him?” Catchflea asked. Di An looked to the old man and nodded once. “He would not help Li El willingly,” the old man insisted. “He must be under a spell.”

“It matters not why he is with them,” Mors replied. “If he fights for Li El, he must die as surely as any other warrior of the Host.”

“No!”

“I've no time to argue; there's a battle brewing.”

“If you want my help, you'd better grant me this favor,” Catchflea said. “Riverwind is my friend, and he must not be harmed.”

“Are you holding me up?” Mors planted his fists on his narrow hips.

Catchflea measured the distance between them, hoping that Mors could not strike him. Quietly he said, “That's the price of my assistance.”

Mors thrust out his chin. “You have been valuable to our cause,” he said. “I will tell my people to take the giant alive if they can.” Then Mors was off, shouting at his followers. Tired diggers appeared from the orchard and surrounding fields, their shirts stuffed with stolen fruit. Over a thousand diggers had been armed with everything from swords taken from dead Hestite soldiers to farm tools and mining equipment. The wagon with the pepper spraying device creaked out of the trees toward Mors. A few minutes after Di An had brought the news, the rebel army, such as it was, had assembled around its blind general.