"What is it?" asked Hoxitl, turning from the statue and recognizing the young priest.

"I have been to Halloran's house. Erix was there, but no more," Shatil explained breathlessly. "They are here, in the sacred plaza. They seek Poshtli; they will try to rescue Naltecona from the strangers!"

He spoke in excitement. As Shatil had considered his sister's mission, he had begun to suspect that perhaps Hoxitl had been wrong. Indeed, Erix would be a great heroine if she could bring the Revered Counselor out of the enemy clutches. Surely this was not the act of an enemy of Zaltec!

Hoxitl's reaction surprised him. The high priest's eyes widened in alarm. "She must be stopped" he cried in sudden panic. Swiftly, angrily, he whirled away and fought for self-control.

Hoxitl remembered vividly the warning of the Ancient One: Naltecona's death, among the strangers, was to be the signal for the uprising. If he were rescued, the signal might not occur. The cult of the Viperhand, coiled and aching for release, might be thwarted of its great explosion.

"Shatil spoke tentatively. "But, Patriarch, is this not good? Would not Naltecona's rescue allow us the freedom to strike at the strangers?"

"No! Can't you see designs of those who would thwart Zaltec?" Hoxitl turned savagely on the young priest. He couldn't tell him of the warning of the Ancient One – that had been too private, pertaining to Naltecona's and the high priest's own fates. Yet he needed Shatil's help, his obedience.

"We must go to Poshtli and try to stop your sister. Do you have the Talon of Zaltec?" At Shatil's nod, Hoxitl continued. "We will seek Erixitl in the palace. If we find her, you must be prepared to use it."

"I understand," said Shatil, swallowing a bitter objection. He was a priest of Zaltec. He wore the brand of the Viperhand. He had no choice but to nod humbly and obey.

Helm, patron god of the Golden Legion, was represented by his faithful as the All-seeing Eye. Those who worshiped ever vigilant and watchful Helm would not be surprised by enemy ambush or strategem – or so claimed his clerics. The All-seeing Eye would provide his faithful with warning and alarm.

Now the ever watchful one tickled a cautious nerve in the mind of his devout cleric, Bishou Domincus, awakening him from an early, fitful sleep.

Tingling to a sense of danger he had learned never to ignore, the tall, bearded cleric emerged from his sleeping chamber and started toward the rooms of Cordell and Darien. On the way, he passed the guarded chamber where Naltecona was held.

Here alarm prickled the hair on his neck, and the Bishou hurried to his general. He encountered Alvarro, drinking octal with some of his riders in a palace garden.

"Come with me," he said to the captain, then turned to the men. "Get to Naltecona's chamber! Double the guard! There's treachery about!"

The captain-general, aroused by the tumult, emerged from his chamber with a cotton tunic thrown over his shoulders. Darien, robed, followed moments later.

"What is it?" demanded Cordell.

"I have been warned by Helm," pronounced the Bishou, his voice booming. "There will be an attempt against our prisoner!"

"To kill him?" asked the general, alarmed.

"Perhaps. Or to free him," said the Bishou. "In any event, we must increase the guard."

Cordell acted quickly, having had experience in the past with the Bishou's premonitions of disaster. "Double the men" at the gates and in the hallways. Roust the troops from their sleep – now!"

The alarm quickly spread through the palace. Cordell then gestured to Darien, Alvarro, and the Bishou. "Come on – hurry!"

He led them toward Naltecona's chamber.

"Kirisha" Hal whispered, and cool white light spilled through the previously dark tunnel. Poshtli looked at him, blinking momentarily in surprise, then turned back to the sheet of paper in his hands.

"That does make map-reading a little easier," he admitted. "Now, this tunnel should take us under the palace of Axalt."

The warrior led the way, with Erixitl behind him and Halloran bringing up the rear, since the dank, stone-lined tunnel offered only enough space for a single-file advance.

The Lord Architect had shown them a passage leading from Naltecona's throne room itself to a network of tunnels passing beneath the palaces, pyramids, and courtyards of the sacred plaza. A courtier had announced the arrival of the priests of Zaltec as the small group was preparing to depart, and Poshtli had instructed him to keep the priests waiting.

The map had been hastily drawn by the architect of Nexal, who had designed the palace of Naltecona. High predecessor, who had created the plans for Axalt's palace some sixty years earlier, no longer lived. Consequently, the architect had warned, the map became less accurate the closer they got to their goal. It didn't show every passage, and the man had told Poshtli that the scale was rough at best.

But it was all they had, and it was far better than nothing.

"I think we're starting to go up," Erix announced after long minutes of walking. The others paused and regarded the tunnel before and behind them, agreeing that she was right.

"The slaves who provide his food tell me that Naltecona is quartered in the old Revered Counselor's chambers. That should make our task a little easier. There's certain to be a secret passage leading there" Poshtli held his steel longsword in one hand now as the climb in the tunnel became more noticeable. "We must be under the palace now."

Abruptly the tunnel met an intersection with another passage crossing at right angles. Poshtli stopped, confronted with three choices of direction.

"That way," said Erix decisively, pointing to the right.

The men looked at her, surprised by her vehemence. She pointed again, and they shrugged. With no more convincing alternative, the warrior led them to the right.

This tunnel proceeded for perhaps two hundred paces and then ended in a steep stone stairway.

"Up there," Erix whispered.

"How can you know where we're going?" asked Halloran, wanting to believe that they were on the right track.

"I don't know," she replied. "But I think we'll find Naltecona up ahead."

Carefully Poshtli led the way up the steep, spiraling steps. After one full circle, the stairway ended at a narrow platform. Before them, fully illuminated in the light of Halloran's spell, stood the outline of a narrow stone door.

"Kirishone" Hal whispered, dousing the light. He didn't want any telltale gleam through a crack to give them away to anyone on the other side.

"Let's have a look," Poshtli said, pushing against the portal. With a dull rasp of wooden pivots, the stone door slowly yielded to his pressure.

Soundlessly the warrior slipped through, quickly followed by Erix and Hal. They smelled moist foliage, and grass cushioned their footsteps. For a few moments, they blinked into what seemed like pitch darkness, but gradually their eyes adjusted to the gloom.

They had entered an enclosed garden, Hal saw, one that was open to the sky above. He guessed that they were in the right palace, but he could only hope that somehow they had emerged into the proper area of that palace.

"D'you hear somethin?" The guttural question, spoken from a few feet away, froze them in place. The language was that of the legionnaires.

"I dunno. Here, get a spark for the torch."

"Styberius" hissed Hal, quickly pulling a pinch of sand from his pouch. He had studied the sleep spell but never used it before.

"Hey…" The original voice grunted softly in surprise, but then the listeners were rewarded by three soft thuds as bodies fell to the ground.

Erix quickly knelt beside the forms of the slumbering guards. The overcast kept the night very dark, but enough light from the nearly full moon penetrated the clouds to reveal the garden in dim, shadowy detail.