Halker sucked in his cheeks as he looked at the captain.

"You sound regretfully close to saying we have a spy among us, Captain."

The thought hung in the air for a few moments before Vorr broke in. "Or the gnomes have spell-casters or mechanical devices that can do their spying for them."

"Or our most venerable foes have decided to send their own intelligence on to the gnomes," added an aged voice. Everyone turned to look at the withered Oriental man in flower-print robes of silk. Usso casually gestured at the ceiling, as if to the stars. "The elves have cloaking helms, have they not? They could have seen Captain Sharak's ships depart from our fleet while one of their man-o-wars was barely more than hailing distance away. With but a spell or two, they could have sent warning to the gnomes, despite their earlier differences in the battle, Remember, the elves stood to lose nothing by telling the gnomes of our plans, and they stood to gain much: the restoration of some of the gnomes' goodwill, the destruction of our ships and soldiers, and the safety of Teldin Moore and his cloak. I must consider this the most likely alternative, as I have detected no sign of weakness or treason among our own fleet. I must dismiss General Vorr's concerns, as I have armored the command offices of our fleet with lead mesh to prevent outside agencies from scrying upon us, and the reports filed by the survivors of the expedition gave no sign that the gnomes made use of any wizardry, whether their own or hired. I believe the elves have again made fools of us."

Admiral Halker broke the brief silence that followed. "Of all the alternatives," he said softly, "I find that one to be the most disturbing. A traitor can be rooted out. A wizard's spells can be blocked. But to think that the elves have outfoxed us, that they can become invisible at will. .." Halker's fingers dug into the arms of his chair. "The elves whipped our ancestors like mongrels, broke their fleets, drove them from the rich worlds, shut them out of the light of a hundred suns, gave them dust to drink and rock to eat and filth with which to clothe themselves, and laughed at the thought that we, the children of Dukagsh, would ever repay the blood debt owed them. That we must swallow this elven vomit for our meals, that we must endure the laughter that must surely ring in their ships-Almighty Dukagsh must long to put out his own eyes to spare him our shame." The admiral's grip tightened on the chair arms until his hands were corded knots.

One of the admiral's hands suddenly arose, a narrow finger sweeping the room. "But I say now, 'no more.' I charge you to find a way, a dozen ways, a thousand ways to counter this threat. I want to find those elves with all the effort we are putting into finding this Teldin Moore, and find a thousand ways to destroy them. I want to see their lifeblood spill into space. I want their heads to hang from our ships and their bodies to grace our tables as dessert. I want them to fear us. I want to avenge our lost brothers and ancestors, to avenge the lives and spirits that were crushed under the golden heel of the elves! Find those ways, and avenge us!"

"Sir," said Captain Geraz, his face still expressionless, "our strategies appear to have been laughably weak of late. When we cannot outsmart gnomes, we should look elsewhere for military advice. The lich might have a better idea of what to do than we have had. Perhaps we should consult him."

General Vorr flushed with shock and rage. No scro had ever spoken so to a superior officer, much less a room full of them. The other scro captains and commanders stirred with equal rage, teeth bared and murmuring curses.

"Captain Geraz-ex-Captain, I should say-you are out of line." Admiral Halker's eyes burned into the young captain. "This is a matter for scro and the living, not for the mad and the dead. Moreover, you are disrespectful, and you will pay for that." The admiral's words dropped in volume but redoubled in intensity. "It is likely that you will pay with your life." He dropped a hand to the golden ceremonial dagger on his belt. General Vorr, at the same moment, reached down for his sword hilt. He could see almost every other scro captain do the same thing. Scro justice was nothing if not fast.

"You cannot collect from that which has no currency," said the scro captain, making no move to draw his own weapons. He raised his hands and pulled away his helmet.

The admiral's eyes grew large, and his mouth fell open, revealing hardened gums. Two of the scro ship captains sitting near Geraz leaped to their feet with shouted oaths.

The top of Captain Geraz's head was gone, the skullcap cut away. The vile odor of rotting flesh spilled into the room. A red-brown crust of blood matted Geraz's short, bristly hair. The wound obviously had been cleaned sufficiently to be hidden by the helmet. Those closest to Geraz saw that his brain was gone, his skull left empty, and they withdrew from the animated corpse as if it were poisoned.

"I am beyond the world of the living now," said the scro captain dully. "I was killed by catapult shot from an elven ship during the attack by the elves. My body was recovered from the Cursed Shadow and enspelled to serve you on Ironpiece and bear a message from your ally Skarkesh."

Vorr stared in disbelief at the undead scro. The false lich did this? He dared do this to a scro and show off the results? Something caught fire in his blood and spread to the core of his soul. That someone would do such a thing was unthinkable, a violation that had but one punishment.

Admiral Halker, for all his rage, had the presence of mind to respond. "Your message from Skarkesh is?" he asked hoarsely, fingers still clutching his golden dagger.

"Skarkesh has located Teldin Moore in wildspace, aboard a gnomish ship. He is on course for one of this crystal sphere's portals. Here is his heading." The undead scro pulled a flattened, tolled parchment from his belt, offering it to the admiral. General Vorr intercepted it, knowing that his touch would nullify any cursed item designed to harm a living being, but he didn't look at the paper.

"And here," the scro said, untying a belt pouch and pulling a second sheet of parchment from it, "are a few ways to counter the cloaking helms of the elves. Skarkesh, in his wisdom, has seen fit to present these to you as gifts, to better enable you to do your jobs." General Vorr took that, too.

"Have you any further requests?" asked the undead scro.

"Only one," said Admiral Halker, breaking a short, tense silence. The admiral half stood from his seat and raised his right hand, bearing the steel symbol of the eyes of Dukagsh from a necklace he wore. "By the powers invested in me as a war priest of the Chosen of Dukagsh, I command you, undead, to be destroyed and return to dust."

Geraz's body rocked on its feet, then collapsed on the floor. The other scro edged back in case there was another trick, but nothing further occurred.

General Vorr carefully reached down and checked the body. Captain Geraz had definitely been dead for some time; his skin was cold to the touch. The spell cast over him had overcome the corpse's natural rigidity, which was even now taking effect. Vorr took his fingers from the scro's neck and sat back on his heels. Captain Geraz had been a good warrior. It was a mortal insult to have abused him like this.

Vorr looked back at the admiral, then stood up. "Sir," he said, "this would be a good time to adjourn and have Captain Geraz's body cared for."

The old scro nodded, his expression unreadable. "I agree," he said quietly, letting his holy symbol fall. "Everyone but General Vorr is to leave and await further orders, lake Captain Geraz with you and see to his proper burial in space."

The other officers immediately stood and saluted, their voices shouting the Elvish curse in unison. They filed out, some carrying Geraz's remains, to talk among themselves on the squid ship's main deck. Usso left with a thoughtful look on his aged man's face. Admiral Halker seemed lost in a reverie, staring at the far wall from his chair.