Then someone else spoke, Slaney's second-in-command. "Are these the ones Burney told us about when we were riding up? That want to join?"

Orthal took a moment before answering. "That's right. What about it?"

"What their leader said is true: They could have killed us all, or left us afoot. And if they want to join… When we stopped at Stoney Creek, Bekker told us recruitment's down to nothing, since Dell's band got massacred."

"That's us!" Verder said. "I was one of Dell's. Some of us were taken alive. Dell and Liskor were hung up on the spot and used for target practice."

Again there was uncertainty on many rebel faces.

"Counting the dwarves, there's twelve of them," someone added. "Enough to be worthwhile."

"Eleven," someone corrected. "The other one's a woman."

"I'm as good as most men in a fight!" Melody answered. "Anyone want to test me? Orthal?"

Orthal laughed. "Oh, I'll test you all right. On your back, after we've executed these filth. Starting with him." He gestured at Macurdy. "Then we'll all test you."

It was Melody, not Macurdy, that Orthal walked up to, as if to grab her. Her right fist caught him flush on the nose, and blood flowed as he stepped backward in surprise. Then, with a roar, he drew his sword.

Macurdy's bellow stopped everything. "NOW WE SEE WHAT KIND OF SPINELESS COWARD ORTHAL IS!" he shouted. "TOO GUTLESS TO GIVE HER A SWORD AND FIGHT HER."

Orthal stared bug-eyed at him for a moment, then gradually relaxed and grinned. "Larny!" he called, "give the bitch your sword."

Some of the rebels laughed. Larny stepped forward, a massive shambling man not much taller than Macurdy but considerably heavier, mostly muscle. "It ain't right, Orthal," Larny said. "It's too big for her. She couldn't hardly lift it, let alone fight with it."

"Will you shut up, Larny! Just give her the damn sword!"

"Just a minute, Larny," Macurdy said, and stepped away from the spears at his back. "Let me see how heavy it is."

Before anyone but Macurdy realized what was happening, Larny handed him the sword, and Macurdy leaped. Orthal never got his own sword up before Larny's heavy blade thrust him through below the ribs. Macurdy wheeled then, sword ready. "What in hell," he shouted, "does a man have to do to join this humping outfit?"

Someone laughed, then someone else, then others, but most stood indecisively, till a voice called from overhead. "Macurdy! Macurdy! Men are coming on your trail!"

"How many?"

"More than ten!"

"Someone go see who they are!" he shouted, and several rebels ran to their horses as if used to taking his orders. They'd barely mounted when a man galloped up from the sentry post in that direction.

"Tarlok's coming! With recruits!"

The rebels seemed glad to turn their attention to this new development. They waited, and within three or four minutes, a dozen men rode into the clearing. Their leader trotted up ahead of the others. "Good news!" he shouted. "There's been excitement in Gormin Town! The reeve strung up a couple dozen of Dell's and Wollerda's guys in the square. Then someone killed the guards and cut the prisoners loose, and the whole town went on a rampage! Burned half of it to the ground! Including the stockade!"

"You see!" Wolf shouted. "I'm one of Wollerda's, and Macurdy's the one that cut us free. After knifing two of the guards himself."

Earlier, the matter of Macurdy and his people had focused the rebels. The arrival of the recruiting party had dispersed that focus. Now Wolf had returned it to Macurdy, in a manner of speaking; people were talking to each other about him, though leaving Macurdy pretty much to himself for the moment. Orthal lay ignored where he'd fallen.

Slaney's second came over to Macurdy. "You really want to join up?" he asked.

Macurdy examined the man's aura. It was the same general type as Arbel's; he was what Arbel called a student. Just now he was a bandit-rebel, and before that probably a farmer-herdsman, but beneath it all he was a student, perhaps of life. His aura seemed basically clean, with a zone suggesting a pragmatic nature. And he'd been Slaney's second, which meant he'd been accepted as capable, but took orders. Saner and smarter than Slaney though, and bigger, stronger-looking. So maybe not very aggressive.

Aggressive enough to make a pitch to Orthal, Macurdy reminded himself, a pitch to save my neck. That took guts, with Slaney lying dead there. He grunted. "Do I really want to join up? Not exactly. I want to command this outfit. Turn it into the core of an army that can throw Gurtho down once and for all. And I need someone by me that knows these people: what they want, what they need. What their strong points are, and their weaknesses. You want the job?"

The man didn't answer. Instead he said, "Don't be shy with them. They may not know it, but they're looking for a leader now. They want one. And they might accept a stranger. The right stranger."

They. They. That explained the aural coolness, Macurdy decided. The man was a local, one of the group, but inwardly held a little apart from it. I believe I'm getting good at this aura analysis, Macurdy told himself. "Thanks," he said. "Who'll take over if I don't?"

"Probably no one, with Slaney dead. And I expect they'll break up and drift home if someone doesn't take over."

Macurdy nodded. "What's your name? And the guy's name that just came in with recruits?"

"He's Tarlok. I'm Jesker."

"Thanks." Macurdy spotted Tarlok at the center of a large cluster of rebels, and started over. Some of the rebels from Gormin Town were there too; Verned glanced his way and beckoned. The cluster opened on Macurdy's side as if to receive him.

Let's do it, Macurdy told himself, and lengthened his stride.

"You're Macurdy?" Tarlok asked. "The one that killed Orthal?"

"I'm Macurdy. And yeah, I killed Orthal. Partly. Mainly he killed himself, by stupidity, and treating people like shit."

Tarlok's gaze was steady. Analytical. He had a warrior's aura, a fairly clean one. This was a man who'd take responsibility, and give loyalty where it was due.

"A couple of your people know a couple of my recruits," Tarlok said. "They tell us you killed the soldiers guarding them in Gormin Town, then cut them loose. And that you're the one who lit off the uprising there."

"I'm from Oz, me and two others. We each killed guards, but I was the ringleader. Lighting off the uprising was easy. People there were ready; they hate Gurtho as much as you do. All they needed was someone to start something; they took it from there. I'd rather they hadn't burned the town, but it's their town."

"So what do you do next?"

"Let me ask you a question. I know what the people in Gormin Town want. They want to get rid of Gurtho. But what do you want? What are you up here for?"

Several men tried to speak then; Macurdy pointed at one. "You," he said. "What are you up here for?"

"Freedom for the tribe! Our grandfathers' grandfathers were free men. Then we lost a war with the flatlanders and had to swear allegiance to the kings of Tekalos. Obey their reeves and pay their taxes."

By this time, most of the rebels had gathered around to listen.

"All right," Macurdy said, "so you want freedom from lowland kings. Just don't replace them with somebody like Orthal, or you'll be as bad off as ever. You, Wolf! Is that what the rebels want where you're from? Freedom?"

"Pretty much. We want to rule ourselves."

"Anyone got something different?"

The only answers were shouts of "No!", or "that's it!"

"Then what were you sitting around for? You ought to be training for war! Learning to fight as a unit! Learning tactics! I came up here today and people were loafing! Did I get here on a holiday or something?"

No one answered.

"The only way to get your freedom is fight for it! And it's not enough just to fight! You've got to win!" He paused. "Now fighting's what I do. Fighting and winning. And I didn't come up here to waste my time. If you want to fight, and win your freedom, I'll organize and train you. Make a fighting force out of you. Lead you if you want. Otherwise I'll take my sword and my friends and go somewhere else. Tell me now."