"I don't know," the clerk said, his chin quivering. "As far as I know, he didn't tell any of the staff of his plans."

"He must have told someone!" Derkin snapped.

The clerk looked as though he might faint. "He… he might have told Captain… er, Commander Morden," he suggested. "His Highness left the commander in charge. I suppose he might have mentioned to him, ah… where he was going."

"Morden?" Derkin frowned. "Who is Morden?"

"He is the officer His Highness promoted just before he left," the clerk explained. "He was captain of the household guard and master of catapults. Now he is commander of internal forces and commander of the Third Battalion, as well."

"Why?"

"His Highness honored him." The clerk shrugged. "He said Capt… er, Commander Morden did fine service in the… ah… campaign in Tharkas… against the… the dwarves." When Derkin made no response, the man added, lamely, "Besides, the Third Battalion was leader-less since Commander Gart's disappearance."

"Gart?" Derkin prodded. "Commander Tulien Gart?"

"Yes," the clerk said. "He just… disappeared. He never returned from Tharkas."

"Describe Commander Morden," Derkin said.

'The… the commander is a slim man," the clerk said. "Not as tall as some, but very strong. And he has a stitched scar across his face"-with a trembling finger, he traced a line from his own left cheekbone downward, across his mouth to the right side of his chin-"like that."

"The man who directed the catapults," Derkin muttered. "The one who lofted the stones."

"I saw a man like that," Talon Oakbeard said. "An officer. He was in the compound when we attacked."

"Is he dead?"

"Either dead or in the dungeons."

With a wave of his hand, Derkin said, "Take the clerk away, then find this Morden. If he isn't dead, bring him to me." He got down from Sakar Kane's throne and strode to a barred window at one side of the Great Hall. Beyond, little flurries of snow still fell, carried on gusting winds below a gloomy sky. Outside in the compound, companies and platoons of dark-garbed dwarves were everywhere.

"I want Sakar Kane," Derkin Hammerhand muttered to no one in particular. "I want to teach him the law of Kal-Thax."

After a time, a company of dwarves filed into the hall and saluted. "Sire, there is no Morden here," their leader said. "Some of us who saw him have searched. He isn't among the dead, and he isn't in the dungeons."

"And all of the living fighters are in the dungeons?"

"All of them," the searcher said. "We went to each of our units who were assigned to the perimeters last night, and to Vin's Daergar, who were stationed outside. From the moment we attacked this place last night, no one left."

Beyond the compound portal, voices were raised, and a young dwarven soldier poked his head in. "There's a man at the compound gate, Hammerhand," he announced. "He's been wounded, but he approached on his own two feet. He demands to see you."

"What man?" Derkin growled.

"A soldier, Sire. Calls himself Gart."

"Bring him in," Derkin ordered.

The man who came into the room, surrounded by surly dwarves, wore only partial armor and had no weapons. Linen bandages and plasters covered his upper torso. He was pale, and looked severely weakened, but Derkin knew him. He was Tulien Gart.

Without preamble, Gart saluted the dwarven leader and said, "I surrender myself to you, Hammerhand. Do with me as you will, but I ask a boon of you."

"First things first," Derkin said. "Do you know where Sakar Kane has gone?"

"Isn't he here?"

"His clerk says he left right after his return from the betrayal of his pledge… the pledge you brought to me."

"Betrayal," Gart murmured then strengthened his voice. "Yes, it was a betrayal. A thing without honor. Had I known what he intended, I would have resigned my commission rather than be party to it."

"So when you found out, you just disappeared?"

"It might have seemed so. I have been in a house in the town, a place where they dressed the knife wounds in my back… for a price. Wounds delivered by an assassin just this side of Tharkas Pass. The man thought me dead and left me. Then I crawled to where I could find help."

"And who was it who tried to murder you?"

"Another officer," Gart said. 'The captain of His High-ness's household guard."

"Morden?" Derkin asked.

"You know him, then? Is he still alive?"

"We haven't found him yet."

"The boon I ask is the opportunity to settle my score with Morden."

"You don't look like you could settle with anyone right now," Derkin pointed out. "You can hardly stand on your feet."

"I can deal with Morden," Gart assured him. "The man is a coward. It would take a weakness greater than my loss of blood from dagger cuts for him to defeat me."

Derkin turned again to the dwarven search party. "You've looked everywhere?"

"Everywhere a soldier might be."

"But not everywhere a coward might be," Derkin muttered. He turned to Talon Oakbeard and walked across the hall with him while he gave orders in a low voice. While Talon relayed the orders to several others, Derkin returned to the throne and parted its drapings. From beneath the throne he pulled a large stone and dragged it around behind. The wide wings of Sakar Kane's ostentatious chair of state hid the stone from view.

"You can rest here in safety," he told Tulien Gart. "Just stay out of sight."

A half-hour passed before one of the tower doors opened and armed dwarves entered the hall escorting several dozen humans-women, clerks, porters, and servants. At sight of them, Derkin Hammerhand climbed onto Lord Kane's throne and called, "Bring the civilians to me."

The dwarves herded their human charges forward, and Hammerhand's eyes scanned them, then fixed on the clerk he had questioned before. "You people are of no use to me," he said. "You are civilians, and noncombatants.

Therefore, you are free to leave this place. You will be escorted to the outer gate and set free. All I ask of each of you is your pledge that you will leave Klanath and never return, and that you will never take up arms against any dwarf. Do you so pledge?"

The clerk nodded ecstatically. "I most certainly do," he assured the dwarf. "On my father's name. Can I go now?"

"I want the same pledge from each of you," Hammer-hand said to all of them. "Line up and address me, one by one.

Reluctantly, the humans formed a line and stepped toward the throne. A porter at the head of the line knelt when he was near and bowed his head. "I give my pledge," he said.

"Stand up," Hammerhand growled. "I'm no gut-bound human prince."

The porter stood and repeated the pledge. Derkin waved him aside. The next human was a woman, veiled as all the women were. "I so-" she started.

"Remove your veil," Hammerhand interrupted.

"Y-Yes, your… ah… your…" She released her veil and let it fall from her face.

"Don't worry about titles," Derkin said. "Just speak your pledge."

"I so pledge," she said.

Derkin waved her away and raised his voice. "No veils," he said, so all could hear. "I want to see your faces when I hear your promises."

The next human, a male in hostler's livery, was just stepping forward when there was a commotion in the line. A veiled woman near the middle suddenly caught up her skirts and sprinted for the open door to the compound. But Talon Oakbeard had been waiting. With a rush, he caught her around the knees and tackled her neatly, throwing her facedown on the stone floor. Then, with efficient unconcern, he twisted her arms behind her

and sat on her.

"Next," Hammerhand said, as though nothing had happened.

One by one, the remaining humans made their vows and were waved aside. When the last one was done, Hammerhand stood upright on the resplendent throne and planted his fists on his hips.