The pair had trooped on, wary now for sign of Claybore’s soldiers. This ambuscade gave them the first solid evidence of life on the world.

“Not much chance of a caravan,” said Inyx. “They can see far enough to know if anything is kicking up dust. They wait for something-someone-else.”

“Let’s help whoever that is,” said Ducasien, already moving to his right. Inyx waited a minute and then drifted to the left, flitting from shadow to shadow until she crouched behind one of the greys. Ducasien rose up behind his target, knife flashing in the hot sun. Inyx’s victim saw and started to respond; it was the last thing he ever did. The woman rammed her dagger into his right kidney, even as her fingers pinched shut his nose and lips.

Inyx slit the throat of another before the greys’ leader lifted a red-striped arm and lowered it in signal. The woman dropped into the position vacated by the dead soldier and waited.

Four men and a woman walked along the road, wary of every movement, every sound, every shadow. Inyx knew quarry when she saw it. These people had been hunted long and hard by Claybore’s soldiers.

As the small group neared, the officer shouted, “Attack!”

To the officer’s surprise, he found himself three men short on the ambush. Then Ducasien took out another and Inyx deftly tossed her dagger and buried the spinning blade into the chest of a fifth. The officer stood alone in the rocks, waving one arm and clinging to his sword with the other hand.

All five of the people on the road pulled out slings, whirled them around twice, and loosed their missiles. One struck the greys’ leader squarely in the head. The explosion caused Inyx to flinch and turn away. She blinked in surprise. If it had been Lan attacking, she would have expected anything, but this ragtag band didn’t seem the type to lavishly use magics.

“Well cast,” she called to the group below. One man separated himself and stood to one side. The way he held his shoulders, the appraising look he gave her from the colorless eyes, the distance he put between himself and the others all bespoke of command.

Ducasien stepped beside her and looked down on them, saying in a low voice, “Not too awe-inspiring, are they?”

“You saw what they did to the grey-clad. There’s more here than shows on the surface,” Inyx said.

“Aye and you’re right on that score,” said the one Inyx pegged as the leader. “Come on down and join us, will you?”

“You’ve got good hearing,” said Inyx.

“Good vision, and a mite more,” said the man. “Who be you? We’ve not seen your likes in these parts, now have we?” He turned to the other four. The woman in the group got a far-looking expression on her face, then slowly nodded. “Now that Julinne has passed favorably on you, be welcome with us.”

“A witch?” asked Ducasien, hand still on his sword.

“Careful,” Inyx cautioned. She had seen more along the Road than had her friend. Inyx remembered only too well the quaint attitudes she had carried along with her from Leponto province on her home world. It had taken many years and many different worlds to burn away the prejudices. One of the strongest had been against those wielding magics able to pry into a person’s innermost thoughts.

“Well that you should be careful. Julinne’s meaning you no harm, are you, my dear?”

The woman’s eyes were so pale that they were virtually colorless, too. She shook her head, saying nothing.

“Julinne’s not one for bandying about words. She leaves that to me. They all do now, don’t you see?” The man looked from one to the next of his tight group. They relaxed as their leader spoke.

“I’m Inyx and this is Ducasien. We’re travelers along the Cenotaph Road.” Inyx wasn’t sure the man knew of the way off his planet. Many she encountered had no inkling of interworld connections. The way Claybore recruited his troops locally fostered belief in many cultures that their ills were homegrown rather than imported.

“So I see. Julinne sees much in you to like and much that is alien.” The man nodded and pointed. “You’re no friends of their ilk, now are you?”

The savage grin Inyx flashed him made the man draw back. “I see that you’re not,” he said quickly. “I am the leader of this pathetic little group. Nowless is the name. We come from far Urm, though you’re probably not quite certain where that might be, now are you?”

“No idea,” said Ducasien.

“Nor,” cut in Inyx, “are we sure how many you have in your ‘little’ band. Fifty? More?”

“Fifty?” Nowless said in mock surprise. “Now look at them, will you? Do these look to be as many as fifty? More like five.”

“What about those higher up the slope? If they aren’t with you, we might be in some trouble.” Inyx pointed to the barren hillside. Ducasien moved a half-step closer, hand still clutching his sword. His sharp eyes began working over potential hiding spots. When he stiffened, Inyx knew he had spotted the others, too.

“I don’t think there’s to be any trouble,” said Nowless. “You have the sense about you, eh?”

“Not like Julinne,” said Inyx. “I depend on eyes and ears. You weren’t talking as if you worried what we might do. One or two of those above got careless. A pebble tumbling a few feet. The scrape of leather against rock. The shadow moving where there’s no life. Tiny things that all turn into something larger.”

“You are a clever wench,” said Nowless, a wide grin breaking out across his face. Yellowed, cracked teeth showed.

“We have a common enemy,” said Ducasien, still uneasy at the large numbers of natives on the hillside. “Let’s not lose sight of that.”

“Friends?” demanded Nowless, squinting slightly at Ducasien.

“Friends,” the man said, thrusting his sword point first into the ground.

“Were you thinking to ambush the ambushers?” asked Inyx.

“That we were. But you did such a fine job, we decided to play out a different future,” said Nowless. “Would you be looking to join a fine band of the opposition? And reap some of the booty?”

“If you’re opposed to Claybore’s grey-clads, yes,” the dark-haired woman said. Her bright blue eyes lit up with excitement. This was the sort of challenge she needed. To seek out the enemy and fight them to the death. To live by her wits. Nowless offered her the very thing she sought along the Road.

“Then it’s off with us, now,” said Nowless. “We have a noble mission to accomplish and the sun’s going to be just right when we reach their fort.”

Ducasien and Inyx walked on either side of Nowless as they continued along the dusty road for a few more miles before cutting to the west and walking into the setting sun. By the time the evening star twinkled on the horizon, they had come to a sprawling fortress dominating the mouth of a barren valley.

“How many?” asked Inyx.

“Who can say?” answered Nowless. “Even fair Julinne has trouble now and then with the seeing. She tells me of as many as a thousand within those walls.” Nowless cocked his head and gave a lopsided grin. “That’s about the right odds for doughty fighters such as we, don’t you think?”

“We’d better get started,” said Ducasien, “if we want to finish tonight. It’s been weeks and weeks since I had to kill more than twenty or thirty grey-clads in a single evening.”

Nowless let out a bellow of pure delight. “I knew there was a mite of humor lurking within you.” Nowless pointed out the salient features of the fortress. “We can’t expect to take on many of the troops. Rested they are and many too many for us. But there, that small shed. That’s the target for this night’s devilment.”

Inyx surveyed the layout of the fort and the shed Nowless indicated. “Animals of some sort there?” she asked.

“Enough horses to let us ride with the very wind,” said Nowless. “But while some of us try for the mounts, the rest of us will be doing what we can a’yonder.”

“The mess hall?”