Johanna and the rest of him followed. They were moving across a sloping terrace. The summer drought had drained the chill swamp water she remembered from the landing, and the blackened moss was firm under her. The going should have been easy, but Peregrine wound through the deepest hummocks, hunkering down every few seconds to look in all directions. They reached the end of the terrace and began climbing. There were places so steep she had to grab the epaulet stirrups on two of Peregrine and let him hoist her up. They passed the nearest cannon, what was left of it. Johanna had never seen weapons fired except in stories, but the splash of metal and the carbonized flesh could only mean some kind of beam weapon. Running across the hill were similar craters, destruction punched into the already burned land.

Johanna leaned against a smooth rounding of rock. "Just pull over this one and we're on the next terrace," Pilgrim's voice came in her ear. "Hurry, I hear shouting." He leaned two of himself down, tilting his epaulets toward her hands. She grabbed them, and jumped. For a moment she and the pack teetered over a four— meter fall, and then she was lying on brownish, unburned moss. Pilgrim clustered around her, hiding her. She peeked out between his legs. The outermost walls of Steel's castle were visible from here. Tinish archers stood boldly on the ramparts, taking advantage of the chaos among Woodcarver's troops. In fact, the Queen's force had not lost many packs in the air attack, but even the unwounded were milling around. The Queen's soldiers were no cowards — Johanna knew that by now — but they had just been confronted by force beyond all defense.

Overhead the smoke faded into blue. The battlefield ahead of her lay under clear sky. In the years before the High Lab, Johanna and her mother had often gone on nature trips over Bigby Marsh at Straum. With the sensors on their camper packs they'd had no trouble watching the skyggwings there: even if this flier's automation was not specifically looking for a human on the ground, it should notice her. "Do you see anything?"

The four adult heads angled back and forth in coordinated pairs. "No. The flier must be very far away or behind the smoke."

Nuts. Johanna came off her knees, trotted toward the castle walls. They must be watching there!

"Woodcarver's not going to like this."

Two of the Queen's soldiers were already running toward them, attracted by their purposeful movement or the sight of Johanna. Pilgrim waved them back.

Alone on an open field less than two hundred meters from the castle wall. Even with normal vision, how could they be overlooked? In fact, they were noticed: There was a soft hissing, and a meter-long arrow thunked into the turf on their left. Scarbutt grabbed her shoulder, pulling her to a crouch. The puppies shifted his shields into position: Pilgrim made a barricade of himself on the castle side and started back out of range. Back into the smoke.

"No! Run parallel! I want to be seen."

"Okay, okay." Soft sounds of death whispered down. Johanna kept one hand on his shoulder as they ran across the field. She felt Scarbutt falter. The arrow had caught him in the thick of his shoulder, centimeters from a tympanum. "I'm okay! Stay down, stay down."

The front line of Woodcarver's force was rallying toward them now, a dozen packs racing across the terrace. Pilgrim bounced up and down, shouting with a voice that punched like physical force. Something about staying back, and danger from the sky. It didn't stop their advance. "They want you away from the arrows."

And suddenly they noticed that the fire from the castle had stopped. Pilgrim scanned the sky, "It's back! Coming from the east, maybe a kilometer out."

She looked in the direction he was pointing. It was a lumpy thing, probably space-based though it had no ultradrive spines. It bobbled and staggered. There was no sign of jets. Some kind of agrav? Nonhumans? The thoughts skittered through her mind, alongside the joy.

Pale light flickered from a mast on its belly and dirt geysered around the troops who were racing to protect her. Again the stuttering thunder, only now the light was marching right across her friends toward her.

Amdijefri was on the battlements. Steel hid his glares from the two. There simply was no help for it; Ravna had demanded Jefri be by the radio to guide the strike. The human was not completely stupid. It shouldn't make any difference. An army looks like an army whether it is foe or friend. Very soon the army beyond these walls would cease to exist.

"How did the first run go?" Ravna's voice came clearly from the commset. But it wasn't Jefri who answered: all eight of Amdiranifani was poking around the battlements, some of him sitting on the crenellations practicing stereo vision, others eyeing Steel and the radio. Telling him to stay back had no effect. Now Amdi answered the question with Jefri's voice. "Okay. I counted fifteen pulses. Only ten hit anything. I bet I could shoot better than that."

"Damn it, that's the best I can do with this [unknown words]." The voice was not Ravna's. Steel heard the irritation in it. Everybody can find something to hate in these pups. The thought warmed him.

"Please," said Steel. "Fire again. Again." He looked over the stonework. The air attack had taken out a band of enemy by the edge of the near terrace. It was spectacular destruction, like enormous cannon blows, or the separate landing of twenty starships. And all from a little craft that fluttered like a falling leaf. The enemy front line was dissolving in panic. Up and down the ramparts, his own troops danced about their stations. Things had been bleak since their cannon were knocked out; they needed something to cheer about. "The archers, Shreck! Shoot upon the survivors." Then, continuing in Samnorsk: "The front ranks are still coming. They are — they are — " Damn, what's the word for "confident"? "They will kill us without more help."

The human child looked at Steel in puzzlement. If he called that a lie, then… A moment later Ravna said. "I don't know. They're well back from your walls, at least all that I can see. I don't want to butcher…" Rapid fire conversation with the human in the flier, perhaps not even in Samnorsk. The gunner did not sound pleased. "Pham will pull back a few kilometers," she said. "We can come back instantly if your enemy advances."

"Ssssst!" Shreck's Hightalk hiss was like a physical jab. Steel wheeled, glaring. How dare — But his lieutenant was wide-eyed, pointing toward the center of the battlefield. Of course Steel had had a pair of eyes on that direction, but he hadn't been paying attention: The other Two-Legs!

The mantis figure dropped behind an accompanying pack, mercifully before Amdijefri noticed. Thank the Pack of Packs that puppies are near-sighted. Steel swept forward, surrounding some of Amdi, shouting at the others to get off the parapet. Both of Tyrathect ran in close, physically grabbing for the disobedient wretches. "Get below!" Steel screamed in Tinish. For a second all was confusion, as his own mind sounds mixed with the puppies'. Amdi tumbled away from him, thoroughly distracted by the noise and the rough handling. And then in Samnorsk Steel said, "There are more cannons out there. Get below before you're hurt!"

Jefri started for the parapet. "But I don't see — " And fortunately there was nothing special to see. Now. The other Two-Legs was still crouched behind one of Woodcarver's packs. Shreck took the human child in paw and jaw. He and one of Tyrathect hustled the protesting children down the stairs. As they departed, Tyrathect was already embellishing on Steel's story, reporting on the troops it could see from below the crest of the hill.

"Blow up the lesser powder dump," Steel hissed at the departing Shreck. That dump was near empty, but its destruction might persuade the spacers where words could not.