«As you said, Blade, many people are going to try settling old scores or snatching someone else's land. Also, what do you wager that those cities which march with the Wizard will ask a stiff price for their aid?»

«I wouldn't wager anything,» replied Blade. «I think it's a certainty. Even those people who support the Wizard won't go in awe of his magic anymore. They'll treat him as they would any other tyrant, to be supported or fought as common sense tells them. The Wizard's old power in Rentoro is already gone, and that means he's doomed, sooner or later.» Blade was telling the truth, but not the whole truth. How long would it take to bring the Wizard down? It might take only a single pitched battle. It might also take ten years of savage warfare, reducing half of Rentoro to a desert. Blade kept that second possibility very much to himself.

The passing weeks turned into a month. Morina's defenders were now armed and trained. Heavy stone-throwers were being constructed, and gangs of men were cleaning out Morina's ancient moat and refilling it.

Another week. Still no Wolves, and still not a single word or action from Duke Efrim. Serana began to find her brother's silence not only mysterious, but even alarming.

«You think he's planning something?» asked Blade.

«Let's say that I can think of no other good reason for him to be silent so long,» she replied «He can control his temper if he has to. Often he lulls his enemies into believing he doesn't care, and then strikes when they're off guard.»

«What would you expect him to be planning?»

«I don't know. He must know by now that he can't challenge us openly. That means treachery. How, when, where-the fates only know, and they're not telling us!»

«Perhaps we'd better pick some of our best fighters and mount them on heudas,» Blade said. «That way they can reach any point inside the walls faster than men on foot. I can keep them under my personal command and throw them in wherever they're needed.»

«I like that idea, Blade. A force of picked men, faithfully obeying our orders, able to keep their mouths shut-«

Blade didn't like the tone of Serana's voice or the expression on her face. «Serana, the mounted guard will be under my orders. I won't let it be used for any little plots you may have against the Bossirs.»

«I resent-«

«You can resent my suspicions as much as you want, and I won't change my mind. I won't cooperate in any treachery against Zemun Bossir, either. If necessary, I'll ask Count Drago to help me pick the men. You may be better off helping rule Morina for Zemun's son. I imagine you could even find ways of making sure the boy never lives to rule. But what about Morina?»

Serana's face turned very pale, and she swept out of the room without a word. Blade sighed and poured himself more wine. He knew he'd been rude, but he also suspected he'd been right. Serana might very well risk an «accident» to Zemun Bossir and trust to luck and her own wits to prevent civil war in Morina. Blade knew he was going to have to keep a close watch on both of them-and also on his own back, now that he'd earned Serana's resentment. She might now be thinking of arranging an «accident» for him as well as for young Bossir.

Things would be a great deal simpler if the Wolves would only come. Then there would be enough fighting to keep everybody too busy for plotting.

At last the Wolves came.

The first sign of their coming was the expected pillars of smoke on the horizon. Then came messengers from the scouting parties on sweating, half-dead heudas. Finally came the refugees.

The Wolves were approaching Morina in a great arc, thirty miles from tip to tip. As they moved they killed, raped, and destroyed. Everything they couldn't eat, drink or carry away they smashed or burned. Houses and fields went up in flames, fruit trees were girdled, wells filled with manure or dead bodies. Behind them they left a grisly trail of ashes, rubble, and charred or gutted human bodies.

Before them fled everyone who could move, with whatever they could snatch up and sling on their own backs or the backs of their heudas. The refugees poured down the roads to Morina and swarmed around the city's gates. Blade was able to persuade some to keep on going southward, out of reach of the coming battle and hopefully out of reach of the Wolves. Many of the refugees were too mad with fear to think clearly. They saw safety behind the stout walls of Morina, and never mind that they'd be eating its food and sharing its doom if it fell.

Blade did his best to have the refugees questioned and searched as they came, but that «best» was not very good. There were too many refugees and too few men at the gates. There were other problems as well, as Zemun Bossir told Blade one morning.

«Some of the men don't seem to be interested in searching at all. They won't even shake a bag or open a box.»

«Is there anything special about the men who are doing this?»

«Most of the ones I've seen are those who've been on palace duty.»

«You suspect the duke?»

«It would be the logical thing for him to do-get spies or even Wolves into the city, disguised as refugees.»

«Logic isn't proof.»

«No, and we won't be able to prove anything. If I start questioning the men, they'll resent it and we'd just be warning the duke. I'm glad we have your mounted guard.»

So was Blade. The seventy-five men of his mounted guard were now the best-trained and best-equiped fighting force in Morina. They all had good heudas, lances, bows, helmets, and axes or maces. Many of them had armor-chain mail, pulled out of secret hiding places, or improvised back and breast plates. They could do anything seventy-five men could do against any possible enemies, even the Wolves. Blade could only wish he had ten times as many of them.

Along with the refugees, messages from elsewhere in Rentoro came in almost every day. Several cities that supported the Wizard were sending their armies out to join the Wolves. Several others were sending their armies to join the defenders of Morina. Tens of thousands of men were on the march in Rentoro, a land where hardly anyone except the Wolves had raised a sword in half a century. Now the horizon was blackened with smoke in all directions, not just where the Wolves marched.

As the Wolves marched, the handful of Morinans who could fight in the open nipped at their heels, laid ambushes, cut down bridges and trees, and scouted in their rear. They killed a few Wolves and learned a good deal. Most of what they learned was encouraging.

«The Wizard has done his best to fit out the Wolves for a long campaign, but he hasn't done the job too well. They've got only a few siege engines, practically no spare animals, and only a small wagon train. They won't be able to feed themselves through a long siege. Burning over the countryside behind them won't help either.»

«So what does this mean?» asked Serana.

«It means that the Wolves must either win quickly or retreat. If we can keep these out of Morina for as little as a month, we've won. Then they will have to retreat, and if they do that, many of the cities who now support the Wizard may change sides. We're the heart of the rebellion, and the Wizard's only hope is to strike us down quickly. If he fails-«Blade shrugged.

«Then if Duke Efrim is planning any treachery, it will be something that can help the Wolves win a quick victory,» said Zemun Bossir.

«Exactly,» said Blade. That didn't tell them very much, unfortunately. What he feared most was a spy smuggling in a pair of crystals, so that the Wolves could pour across a skybridge and emerge in the heart of Morina. They were certainly small enough to be concealed in a dozen different ways. To be sure, it took some time to tune new skybridge crystals for a city. But the Wizard and all of his best assistants could have been working night and day since they knew the crystals for Morina were gone.