The circle of captains discussed the merits of Tipperton's "harebrained scheme," until finally Valk called for quiet. He glanced 'round the table, his gaze settling on Tipperton last. Valk smiled. "Once long past when faced with a perilous choice Breakdeath Durek said, 'The gamble is great, the stakes are high, yet he who dares, wins.' Sir Tipperton, I accept this mad plan of yours."

Tipperton exhaled pent breath.

"And a Waeran must do this thing," Valk continued, "for none else might pass as a Ruck, albeit a small one, and none will be better at stealing across land between, and with a flag of Kachar to keep him from getting slain out of hand and the coin as a means of admittance, well then, who better than Sir Tipperton?"

"What about me?" asked Beau.

"Oh no, Beau," objected Tip. "It's my mad plan and I should bear the risk."

Beau looked at Bekki. "It is his right," said the Dwarf.

"Wull then, I'll just go with him," replied Beau.

Phais shook her head. "Nay, Sir Beau. Fortune favors one alone, but not two."

"But I went through Drearwood with Tip, and it was just as dangerous."

"Aye, perhaps just as dangerous, yet 'twas not the same. There in Dhruousdarda ye twain needed pass through nought but trees while avoiding scattered Rupt and lone dire creatures of that wood. But in this Tip must walk through the heart of a Swarm and cross from its fringe to the walls of Dendor and then seek admittance. One alone has a better chance than two together of getting through the Swarm, and two together represent more of a threat to the men on the gate than a single one alone."

Tears came to Beau's eyes, but he nodded bitterly.

"It is decided, then," said DelfLord Valk. He turned to Tipperton. "Hear me now: two things can occur with your mission: it may fail; it may succeed.

"Should it fail; then when we arrive we will array ourselves on the ridge south of the city for a day and attack the next, and that should give Agron enough time to see us and set his forces to attack when we do, though it will also give Modru enough time through his surrogate to see us as well and to act, all surprise being lost.

"Ah, but should your mission succeed… You have seen and know our plan and you must convey it to Agron. Tell him I come with three thousand Chakka no more than a week after you. Have him each night and dawn loose fire arrows from above the four gates, signifying that all is ready. Just ere the dawn the day of attack, we will loose one fire arrow in return and then in the darkness ride down to war and attack with the coming of the sun. Let Agron's men come forth at that time, and together we shall win." As Tipperton nodded, Valk raised his axe. "Chakka shok! Chakka cor!" his voice rang.

Chakka shok! Chakka cor! responded the captains all 'round.

The DelfLord then looked at Tip and said, "Sir Tipperton Thistledown, may the smiling face of Fortune be turned your way, and may Elwydd watch over you." Valk grasped the helve of his axe nigh the head and held it before him and slapped a hand to the blade and called out, "Shok Chakka amonu!" and so did all the captains as well.

Tip glanced up at Loric, and the Alor said, "The axes of the Dwarves are with you."

Eleven days later, in the early March evening as the sun sank low in the west, once again the comrades stood among the trees atop the ridge overlooking Dendor. Still the Swarm ringed 'round the city below.

"It looks thinnest near the south gate," said Loric, pointing straight ahead.

"Then that's where I'll go," said Tipperton, his heart hammering, for not only was he about to set out on a mission dire, somewhere below a fear-casting Gargon stalked among the Swarm.

Phais gestured at the remains of remote winter sun sliding below the horizon, all but its upper limb now gone, the thin arc of a crescent moon sinking down just above. "When the sun disappears and the moon sets, then thou must go, for dark night will be full upon the land."

Tip nodded and looked at Beau, and that buccan's face was drawn. "Cheer up, bucco," said Tip, as he folded the flag of Kachar and stuffed it under his jacket. "We'll see each other after."

"Oh, Tip, it seems you are always going off into danger, while I but do hang back."

The last of the sun disappeared, and the fingernail moon edged down.

"Huah!" barked Tip. "Who walked with me through Drearwood, eh? Was it you or some stranger instead? Some stranger who saved me from that strangling Hlok, hit him in the head with a rock? And who came rushing to my aid at Annory? A stranger still? And who-?"

"Look, bucco, I know we are both in it up to our necks, but this time it seems more, more-"

"Harebrained?"

Beau laughed in spite of himself. "Well, perhaps not harebrained, but dangerous nonetheless."

"I know, Beau, and that's why I'll be all the more careful."

As the moon itself slid into the land Bekki glanced through the twilight at Tip. "There may come a time when boldness will better serve."

Tip nodded, but Beau said, "If it comes to needing to being bold, Tip, remember what I once told you."

Tip raised an eyebrow, and Beau grinned, and said, "If you're going to be bold, then do it timidly."

Tip smiled, remembering, and while the moon sank below the horizon, he said, "With that Gargon down there, I'll be way beyend timidity and into stark terror instead."

A look of distress crossed Beau's face. "Oh, don't say that, Tip. I mean this mission is bad enough without throwing in a Gargon, too."

"Well, we can't very well throw him out, now can we?"

Now the moon was gone altogether, the night lit by remote frigid stars in a cold crystal sky above.

Phais knelt and embraced Tip. "Fare well, my friend." She kissed him on the cheek.

Loric, too, embraced the buccan, as did Bekki, much to Tip's surprise.

Last of all, Beau gave him a hug, tears running down. "Hear me, Tipperton, you take care," he managed to choke out.

"You, too, Beau. You too," replied Tip, his own voice trembling.

Loric handed the buccan a pole, Modru's standard atop, and, with his heart thudding in dread, Tip took a deep breath and said, "Well, I'm off."

Bearing a ring of fire on black, and bearing their hopes as well, the wee Warrow set off afoot down through the winter snow.

Ahead lay the gates of Dendor.

Ahead lay a deadly Swarm.

Her heart hammering, Tip lay in the snow for long can-dlemarks, watching the outer-perimeter guards passing to and fro, the maggot-folk silhouetted by the fires of the Swarm, the buccan trying to gauge when best to attempt to slip across the space and step in among the teeming Spawn.

As planned, Tip had aimed for the south gate, yet the closer he had come toward the Swarm, the harder he had found it to breathe Fool, you fool, you'll never pull this off.

– and the more his guts had churned with dread.

But even so he had worked his way through the shadows until at last he had come to the very perimeter itself, and now he hid behind a snowy outcropping and watched the Rucks and such tromp past, some patrols marching deasil and others widdershins; and they frequently passed where he lay.

Still he had seen enough to know there were good gaps, and so he made ready for the attempt… his pulse thudding in his ears.

The patrol passed before him, and as they trod away into the night, Tip glanced leftward toward the squad following -A long way off.

Still he waited for the right moment, his heart racing, his breathing shallow and quick.

Leftward in the distance came the patrol.

Tip reached out and gripped the flagstaff lying beside him and gathered his feet under and glanced rightward at the retreating squad… and groaned -Oh no. Another band just beyond… coming this way.