"Zephyr won't hurt your people." Despaxas shrugged. "And I needed him. It has been a long time since we last met, Tuft. Humans sometimes change."

"So you had your pet shadow read me?" The Cobar's frown deepened. "And what does he say now?"

"He says that your soul is as strong as your heart," the elf said. "Just like before."

When Tuft stepped out again, Zephyr was nowhere to be seen. With a shudder, the Cobar took a deep breath. He knew that the verge-swimmer meant him no harm. He had accepted Despaxas's assurance of that long ago. Still, there was something about the idea of a magical creature that could be seen only in shadow, and that had the body of a manta ray and teeth like scorpion stingers-a thing that appeared and disappeared at will, and that could read a man's soul as easily as a man might read a scroll- that revolted him.

Tuft whistled-a call that any but a Cobar might have mistaken for a night bird's shrill. Immediately, all around him, the quiet camp began to teem with activity.

Tuft stepped back into the tent and picked up his boots. "We'll leave at first light," he told the waiting elf.

Less than five miles to the east of Klanath, the wall of soaring peaks that framed Tharkas Pass turned and divided, ranges of peaks extending north and south, separating the mountain fastness of old Kal-Thax from the foothills and plains that rolled away to the east. And it was here, where the giant range turned, that the road from Caergoth entered a narrow, winding valley called Redrock Cleft. The valley was a natural pass leading to the eastern slopes beyond. From it, the empire road wound downward in a series of serpentine arcs and switchbacks, to become many roads on the plains below.

It was through this cleft that the original armies of conquest had gone, heading for the southern plains and the elven forests beyond. And it was through this cleft that supply trains and reinforcements now moved, refreshed by a midway rest at Klanath.

Three days after the visit of Despaxas to Tuft Broad-land's camp, a long line of men issued from the cleft. Nearly eight hundred in all, with pack animals among them, they bore the banners of the empire and marched at the steady pace of men who have come a long way and still have a long way to go. There were three companies, assigned to join General Giarna's forces in southern Ergoth.

An hour after clearing Redrock Cleft, the rank was snaking down the slopes with the gentler foothills ahead. Another hour passed, and the road became gentler and straighten In the rough lands above, many of the soldiers had marched with shields on their arms and swords in their hands in case of ambush. But now, as the land grew flatter, most of them slung their shields and put away their blades. They could see for miles out here, and there wasn't anyone in sight except themselves.

Then, abruptly, there was. With shrill battle cries and thundering hooves, a hundred mounted barbarians charged over the rim of a little draw that hadn't seemed deep enough to hide a rabbit. Like messengers of death, the riders came, bows drawn full and the slanting sunlight brilliant on beaded buckskins and featherwork headgear.

Within a heart's beat of the first battle cry, the galloping attackers were thundering down upon the panicked line of soldiers. Arrows pinged and thudded among the footmen, aimed with deadly accuracy and driven by stout bows. Dozens of soldiers fell, and more dozens broke and ran in blind panic. Behind the barrage of arrows came the howling riders, bows slung now, and gleaming swords flashing as they charged through the ranks of soldiers, wheeled around, and charged again, laying about them with swift blades that ran red in the sunlight.

Then, as quickly as they had come, the riders were gone. Disappearing through their own dust, into that same eye-fooling draw they had come from, they reappeared on the far side, loping away casually toward the north. Behind them, the ground was littered with dead and injured empire soldiers. Officers ran here and there, calling back their troops, trying to restore order.

"Cobar," a senior officer muttered, looking after the retreating horsemen. "What are Cobar doing this close to Klanath?" Turning, he raised an arm, signaling others to him. "Send runners with signal mirrors back up to the cleft, on the double," he commanded. "There is still good light. From there, signal Klanath what has occurred. Tell Lord Kane that if his men move at once, they can catch those Cobar and make an example of them."

"Catch Cobar?" a junior officer questioned. "Sir, those people are…"

"Are you blind?" his senior snapped. He pointed. "You see where the barbarians are going? Look beyond them. That smoke in the distance must be their camp. They think we won't follow them, because we are not mounted. They are as stupid as they are arrogant. Do they honestly believe that a mounted battalion can't find them?"

First Blood

From the tower of his fortress, Sakar Kane matched his Third Horse Battalion fan out along the road toward Redrock Cleft, as dawn flagged the sky ahead of them. It had taken all night to reach the battalion and recall them from their outpost stronghold south of Tharkas Pass, and Lord Kane was not pleased that he had to do so. Still, the signal from Redrock had been clear and authoritative. Wild tribesmen had ambushed the emperor's reinforcement column in the foothills beyond the cleft, then had withdrawn to their camp.

Only a few miles north, the signals said. Mounted troops could overtake them there, surely within a day or two. The Prince of Klanath had hesitated only a moment. The Third Battalion was growing restive and sullen after long seasons of fruitless patrol in the brutal mountains south of Tharkas. A bit of action now would be good for them. Besides, if he caught and punished the wild tribesmen, General Giarna would owe him a favor. Sakar Kane had no love for the so-called "boy general," but it was well known that Giarna was a favorite of the emperor. Even the sinister Dreyus, the man they said was Quivalin Soth's closest advisor, seemed to find no fault with Giarna. It would be a good thing, Sakar Kane knew, to have Giarna indebted to him.

The eastern sky was bright by the time the trailing elements of the Third Battalion disappeared into the cleft, tiny in the distance. Lord Kane turned away to enter his chambers, then stopped and tipped his head. What was that noise he had heard? Something faint and far away, just a touch of sound on the morning breeze coming down from the mountains.

He listened, and it came again, vague and fitful, as erratic as the cool breeze that carried it. He stepped to the parapet and looked downward. Below was the inner court of the fortress, and beyond it the walled battlements that faced the bustling little city. On the battlements-and on the more distant city wall-guards patrolled in pairs. He could tell by their casual pacing that, unlike him, they had heard nothing unusual.

Then he heard the distant sound again and shook his head in irritation. Thunder, he thought. Echoes of distant thunder, far away in the mountains. Somewhere beyond Tharkas Pass.

Oddly, though, there were no storm clouds in the clear morning sky-at least none that he could see from his tower.

The old mining camp of Tharkas lay shadowed and almost silent as dawn light appeared above the tall peaks around it. Once destroyed by dwarves, at the time of the slaves' revolt, the camp had been rebuilt as an outpost of Klanath. Though austere, it was amply equipped and fortified to serve as the headquarters of Lord Kane's mounted battalion, the Third. But now most of the battalion was gone, recalled through the great pass for maneuvers of some kind. Only cooks, servants, orderlies, and two companies of footmen remained, and most of them were asleep. They had been awake most of the night, helping the mounted forces saddle their beasts, don their armor, prepare their weapons, and pack their gear. It had been past midnight when the battalion trotted away, entering the pass by the light of twin moons.