Fires burned in Porto. Were they celebrating?

He stared at the town. Something had come to mind during the fighting, a question he wanted to ask those people, but he could not now, for the life of him, remember what it was.

Another squeal from the woods sapped the last of his energy. Exhaustion hit like a boulder falling. "All right, men. I'm over it. I can sleep, now."

One of the falcons barked. Just once. "Must be a false alarm."

But one side of his shelter was smoldering when he arrived. Kait Rhuk looked him in the eye and made a dramatic showing of letting a little egg thing clunk into a small iron box. One of a dozen such that Drago Prosek had acquired in Sheavenalle.

Nobody said a word. Everybody looked at Hecht.

"I get the point. Everybody. Good night."

He refused to let the lifeguards inside.

His dreams were terrible.

Someone shook Hecht's shoulder. "Wake up, boy."

Hecht surged up, not quite aware that he was not in the grasp of the thing that had stalked him through his nightmare. He did not rise too high. The Ninth Unknown possessed surprising strength.

"Calm yourself."

Hecht did so. With an effort. "I was having a bad dream."

"Probably not. They know what happened. They're hunting you. They can't find you because of the amulet. And the ring. The thing they sent forgets what it's supposed to do when it gets close."

"They?"

"Rudenes Schneidel. And the thing he's trying to resurrect. Seska."

"Through my dreams?"

"They can't get to you in the wakening world, day or night."

"Then I should stay awake?"

"No. You're safe. I won't be far off. Trust the amulet, the ring, and me. And your lifeguards. You'll be all right. Your suspicions are on the mark, by the way."

"Which suspicions?"

"About you and your army being sent here mainly to keep you from intervening in Firaldia."

One candle burned inside the shelter. It was all the light and heat the Captain-General enjoyed. "I suspected that?"

"Or the like. The Patriarch expects you to be chasing Rudenes Schneidel for years. He doesn't know about me. He doesn't plan to bring you out of Artecipea once you do bring Schneidel down. Though King Peter might salvage you."

"He would? Why?"

"While we were preoccupied in the Connec, and while Brothe was getting a new Patriarch, al-Halambra gained a new Kaif. Not a Direcian Praman, this time, but an old-fashioned, hard-core Believer from beyond the Gebr al Thar. Something Sabuta Something al-Margrebi. Who's preaching a holy war to recover the lost provinces in Direcia. And more. Thousands of warriors have crossed the Gebr al Thar already. The news is spreading on our side of the Mother Sea. Pacificus will have to preach a real crusade, if he doesn't want Peter overrun."

"A big war in Direcia should show us just how grand a champion King Peter really is."

"And how strong his hold on his Praman allies is."

"And my part would be?"

"No part. You'll be here, trying to exterminate Rudenes Schneidel. But if things go bad for King Peter you can expect to see Direcia before long."

"I have family in Brothe. My men have families."

"Next time you see the Patriarch ask him how much he cares."

"Should I ask what his problem with us is?"

"You have the power to make kings. You have a large force of skilled, experienced soldiers who are loyal to you. He judges you by what he would do if he had what you have. It's a common weakness."

"What's your advice?"

"Send people to Brothe to see what's what. There are plenty of local boats. Finish Schneidel fast. Then cross over to the mainland yourself. You'll be safe. Pinkus Ghort still runs the City Regiment. Which has gotten a renewed lease on life and a fattened budget since a foreigner managed to become Patriarch. You'll have Muno and me behind you, too."

"Sounds good. You think Rudenes Schneidel might turn up tomorrow morning, ready to give up?"

"No. You'll have to lead these men into the High Athaphile and root him out of Arn Bedu. Which should be easier than it sounds. I'll be along."

"You. Yes. I've seriously begun to wonder. What are you, really, great-great-grandfather?'

"That. And the Ninth Unknown. Go back to sleep."

Hecht had an angry question but sleep snatched him quick as a shark's strike.

The dreamstalker did not get close again.

The pagans learned, first disaster. No more confrontations. Their guerrilla efforts were ineffectual, however. The Patriarchals had learned the cure while in the End of Connec. Any village or fastness that caused trouble ceased to exist. Villages and fastnesses that did not resist suffered nothing more than disarmament. In each such Hecht made it known that his sole target was the sorcerer Rudenes Schneidel.

The Captain-General's advance into the High Athaphile was inexorable. And grew stronger with the arrival of the rest of his troops from Sheavenalle.

Resistance faded. Schneiders rebellion – if that was what it could be called – collapsed. Eighteen days after he landed near Porto Piper Hecht stood on a mountainside looking up at the sorcerer's final stronghold, Arn Bedu. The Mother Sea was an amazing blue expanse behind him, stretching away forever. Looking east, he could just make out Pramans serving King Peter making camp at the far foot of the mountain. His successes had eased their difficulties dramatically.

"What's so amusing?" Redfearn Bechter asked.

"Look. Good Pramans out there. Men we fought not that long ago. And good Chaldareans here. All of us about to get together to go up there and exterminate that pagan who got all uppity."

"I don't see the joke. But I'm told I have no sense of humor."

"You won't get an argument from me. How about you let Brother Jokai know I'd be ever so appreciative if his scouts took a real good look at this mountain. Tell him they should be careful. Not just because of the pagans but because King Peter's troops will be scouting, too. Hell, we need to get together with them and coordinate. Work it out so they can get most of the glory by doing most of the dying."

"You're a cynical bastard. Sir." That was Clej Sedlakova.

"I am. I'm thinking, based on what we've seen in the towns and villages, that nothing up there will be worth plundering. So why not let somebody else get busted up getting there first to claim it?"

"Somebody heading this way from yonder camp," Bechter said.

Sedlakova observed, "Looks like Colonel Smolens is about to catch up, too," indicating people climbing the mountain from the west. Smolens had been evicted from Sheavenalle by Principate de Herve.

Smolens arrived first. "Sorry I couldn't stand up to the Principate, boss. I just didn't have the horses." He found himself a place to lie down. He surrendered to exhaustion instantly. Madouc was part of Smolens's party. He collapsed just feet from the Colonel. Hagan Brokke still labored up the slope with other invalids also expelled from Sheavenalle.

There would be regrets, someday.

The allied party halted, awaited a response. Hecht looked around for a flash of brown. He did not find it. "Prosek. One falcon team with me. Plus four lifeguards. And Brother Jokai."

Jokai started to protest. Hecht told him, "We're supposed to cooperate with them. For now. You're no good at disguising yourself. So it won't hurt to show you off. Let them know how serious we are. We need horses. Somebody. We can't meet them on foot. It wouldn't look right."

Moving at last. Two lifeguards out front. Two back behind Drago Prosek, Kait Rhuk, and another two falconeers. Jokai Svlada beside Hecht. Hecht wishing that Titus Consent were there instead of having sneaked into Brothe. Jokai asked, "Is us bringing the smaller party a statement?"