Tomb the dwarf led the party through. the tumbled concentric circles of the city.

'At the very centre,'he said, 'a tower stands alone in an oval plaza.'He cocked his head, as if listening to a lecture in his skull. 'To descend into the caverns beneath the plaza, we must enter that. Certain defences may still be operating. But I have the trick of those, I hope.'

The ground sloped steeply down as they went, as if Thing Fifty had been built in the bowl of a tremendous amphitheatre. They were forced to cross pools and unpleasant moats. Running water became common, springs bubbling from the cracked paving.

'I had not counted on this. The bunkers may be waterlogged. Run-off from the foothills of the Monadliath has done this. Help for the trees, but not us.'

He was near the mark, but how near, he could not have imagined: and when they reached the plaza, none of his new skills were of any use.

For at the hub of the city of Thing Fifty lay a perfectly oval tarn of clear water.

At its centre, like the stub of one of Tomb's own broken teeth, rose the last few feet of a tall tower. In its depths, they could see luxuriant water-plants rooted in the thick black silt that had covered and blocked the entrance to the bunkers.

Into their stunned silence, Birkin Grif murmured, 'We are finished here before we begin. It is drowned.'

Methvet Nian looked at Tomb. 'What shall we do?'

'Do?'He laughed bitterly. 'Throw ourselves in. Do what you like. I can accomplish nothing here.'

He stalked off a little way and sat down. He threw lumps of dead wood and stone into the water that mocked him.

'We cannot get down there,'said Cromis. 'We will sleep in a drier part of the city tonight, and in the morning move on.

'Cellur told us that the siting of the artificial brain was mm-certain. We had warning of that. We will try our second goal, in the Lesser Rust Desert.

'If that fails, we can come back here -'Tomb the dwarf sniggered.

'And dive like ducks? You are a fool. We have lost the game.'

Cromis fondled the hilt of his sword. 'We lost the game a long time since, in the Great Brown Waste,'he said, 'but we still live. It is all we can do.'

'Oh yes indeed,'said a soft, ironical voice from close behind him. 'it is your place to lose, I think.'

Cromis turned, horror blooming in his skull, his sword sliding from its leather scabbard.

Norvin Trinor stood before him.

Twenty Northmen were at his back, forceblades spitting and hissing in their hands.

'You should have killed me when you had the chance, my lord,'he said. He shook his head theatrically and sighed. 'Still, perhaps it was not meant to be that way.'

He looked from Cromis to Grif. The scar left by Thorisman Carlemaker's knife immobilised one side of his face, so that when he smiled only one eye and half his mouth responded. He still wore the cloak and mail Cromis had last seen on the battlefield. Like the leather garments of the Northmen, they were stained with blood and wine.

'Hello, Grif,'he said.

Birkin Grif exposed his teeth.

'Arselicker,'he said, 'your lads will not save you, even though they kill me after I have gutted you.'He showed Trinor a few inches of his broadsword. He spat on the floor. He took a step forward. 'I will have your bowels out on the floor,'he promised.

Cromis put a hand on his shoulder.

'No, Grif, no.'

Trinor laughed. He swept back his cloak and slid his own blade back into its sheath.

'tegeus-Cromis sees it,'he said. 'Heroism is useless against a strategist: Methven taught us all that many years ago.'

'You learnt quickest of all,'said Cromis dryly. 'Grif, we could kill him four times over: but when we have finished, we will face twenty baans. Even Tomb could not stand against them.

'However well we fight, the Queen will die.'

Norvin Trinor made a sweeping bow in the Young Queen's direction.

'Quite. A splendid exposition, my lord. However, there is a way out of this for you. You see, I need your dwarf.

'Let me explain. I am on the same quest as yourselves. I am able in fact to tell you that you are wasting your time here in Thing Fifty unless your interest is purely archaeological.

'For some time now, we have been a little worried about our allies. During certain researches in our Good Queen's library-'

He bowed again '- in the Pastel City, I discovered what an unreliable weapon the chemosit are. Quite like myself, you understand: they serve only themselves. (Hold still a moment, Lord Grif. It will not hurt you to listen.) You have learnt this, of course. I should like very much to know where, by the way.

'I came also upon part of the answer to the problem: the exact whereabouts of the machine which will… turn them off, so to speak.

'Now, I gather from your conversation here that the dwarf has been given information I was unable to obtain. In short, I need him to do the business for me. I could not take him from you without killing him. Persuade him that it is in the best interests of all of us that he work for me in this matter, and I spare you. The Queen, too.'

Throughout this monologue, Tomb had remained sitting on the edge of the tarn. Now, he unlimbered his axe and got to his feet. Norvin Trinor's wolves stirred uneasily. Their blades flickered. The dwarf stretched to the full eleven feet his armour lent him and stood towering over the traitor.

He raised the axe.

He said: 'I was born in a back alley, Trinor. If I had suspected at the battle for Mingulay that you would do. this to three men who fought alongside you, I would have put a baan between your ribs while you slept. I will do your job for you because it is the job I came to do. Afterwards, I will cut off your knackers and stitch them into your mouth.

'Meanwhile, Methvet Nian remains unharmed.'

And he let the axe fall to his side.

'Very well. We declare a truce, then: precarious, but it should not stain your finer feelings too much. I will allow you to keep your weapons.'He smiled at Cromis'start of surprise. 'But a man of mine stays by the Queen at all times.

'I have an airboat parked on the Southern edge of the city. We will leave immediately.'

Later, as they entered the black ship, its hatch opening directly beneath the crude, cruel sigil of the Wolf's Head, Cromis asked:

'How did you discover us? You could not have followed us through the forest; or even through the barrens without being seen -'

Trinor looked puzzled. Then he gave his crippled smile. 'Had you not realised? It was pure luck: we were here before you entered the city. That's the beauty of it. We had stopped for fresh meat. At that time, I anticipated a long sojourn in the desert.'

And he pointed to the great heap of carcasses that lay beside the launch, their white pelts stained with gore, their myopic eyes glazed in death. Crewmen were preparing to haul them into the cargo hold, with chains.

Cromis looked out at the tangled landscape of Thing Fifty.

'You are an animal,'he said.

Norvin Trinor laughed. He clapped Cromis on the shoulder. 'When you forget you are an animal, my lord, you begin to lose.'