"Just let the Thultyrl try to wiggle out of paying," said Ivy. Something like a contented purr underlaid her hoarse voice.

As the army of Procampur thundered past them to drive Fottergrim's troops out of Tsurlagol, Sanval looked after them longingly.

"You don't have a horse. And you're missing most of your armor," Ivy chided him, but she did it very gently. He appeared so very forlorn standing there in a torn, smoke-smudged shirt, rust-smeared breeches, and indescribably dirty boots, watching someone else ride off to glorious battle. Even his hair was standing up in every which way, dust and rust streaking his dark curls. Of course, Ivy thought he looked wonderful. After all, he was breathing, and he wasn't bleeding. And that was worth paying a temple a visit and giving thanks to any gods who wanted to listen. However, right now she needed to convince Sanval that this was a very good day for them all. "Look, you are with us," she said. "And when the dust clears, we are going to be the biggest heroes around here. After all, we tumbled the walls of Tsurlagol."

"Actually, it was Archlis who-" started Zuzzara.

"He didn't have a contract with the Thultyrl. And he was on the losing side," Ivy reminded her.

"And we are the winners," said Zuzzara. Gunderal giggled at her sister and patted her lovingly on the back.

"Oh yes," said Ivy, looking around and realizing that despite all the odds against it, they were all there, even Wiggles. "It has been a good day…"

Mumchance chimed in, "We were not standing under that wall…"

"When it fell down!" finished the others with a happy shout.

Then Ivy remembered a promise that she had made to herself, down in the dark. "And now I am going to find the handsomest healer that I can."

"But we must report to the Thultyrl," said Sanval. "And there are certain prayers and sacrifices that I should make at my family shrine. To give thanks to the gods." He gave a deep, gut-wrenching sigh. "And then I am going to have to go back to my tent and explain to Godolfin about my boots." He brightened up a little. "And get a clean shirt, and a bath."

"Good ideas," said Ivy. "And I have a couple more ideas that I may want to discuss with you later. Tell me. The gods attached to Procampur-are they fussy about attendance to proper times of worship and all that? Or are they just pleased to see you whenever you happen to stop by?"

"We have many gods and goddesses beneath the black-roof tiles," said Sanval, looking a little puzzled. "Some for a household, some for an occupation, some for the protection of a district. There are appropriate and inappropriate days to enter the temples, if that is what you are asking."

"And every black-roof Procampur temple probably has long lists of rules and regulations about what else is appropriate and inappropriate," guessed Ivy.

"Certainly. There is a proper order to such things, after all."

"Hmm. I may need to find some place a little less organized. Maybe over there," she said, glancing back over her shoulder at the fighters swarming over the broken wall of Tsurlagol.

The side with the shiniest armor looked like they were cutting through the remnants of Fottergrim's orcs with the ease of a hot knife through sealing wax.

"I don't understand," Sanval said.

"Wait until we meet with the Thultyrl. I don't suppose he'll have much interest in over there."

"Over there where?"

Ivy shrugged and pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. "There. What's left of Tsurlagol and what's left underneath. Might even find you better armor."

Sanval stared down at himself, noting sadly the bits of badly dented leg guards that were all that was left of his once-fine equipment. "Almost any armor would be better than this."

"Uh-huh. Digging rights, I'm thinking," Ivy said.

Sanval still looked confused, but asked no more questions.

The Thultyrl was going to be pleased, generous even. Ivy knew it. And his steward, that officious Beriall, would never notice one more little expense tucked into their bill. After all, she had so very many expenses to put down.

"Going to go find the best-looking healer in the camp," repeated Ivy, striding across the fields to the tents of Procampur. Every bone and muscle in her body ached. She had bruises on top of bruises. She did not care. She walked as if the world did not own her-better than that, she strode as if the world owed her one very large payment for a job well done.

Tsurlagol was once again a free city, and Ivy stood before the Thultyrl in clean boots. Actually, extremely well-polished boots. While a terrifically handsome cleric soothed and mended all her aches and pains, the oddest little man by the name of Godolfin had arrived to confiscate all her clothing. He had returned with every item clean, brushed, mended, and polished to a bright gleam where possible. Then he had hustled her off to a private bath (really, it was amazing what Procampur nobles managed to drag to war with them), full of hot water and scented oils, so she felt personally polished. Her blonde hair was a bright golden banner, floating free from a high crest drawn up to the top of her head. And there wasn't a bruise anywhere on her body. The healing that she had gotten from the Procampur cleric with the lovely, lovely hands was worth every single coin that she had donated to his temple. And he had promised to say a couple of prayers for her too, just a few little thanks that she felt she owed the gods.

The rest of the Siegebreakers were looking equally well-scrubbed, she noticed when she met them outside the Thultyrl's pavilion. Even Wiggles looked like she had been washed and brushed. Sanval, of course, was beautifully turned out in a pure white linen shirt, well-fitted cloth breeches, and a different but gorgeously polished pair of boots. His hair had been combed down into a gleaming mass of black curls, but Ivy was pleased to note that one curl was still defiantly going in the opposite direction of its fellows.

Flanked by an honor guard drawn from the Forty, Ivy was led before the Thultyrl, who immediately chided her for not letting him know sooner about her plans to bring down the western wall of Tsurlagol.

She told him that they had been a bit busy that day or they would have sent him a message.

"So everything happened exactly as you planned?" questioned the Thultyrl.

"Certainly it did," Ivy said. If her plans had swerved off course a bit, what did that matter, and who needed to know? All ended at the desired outcome.

"Lady, we are most pleased," said the Thultyrl.

"And we are pleased that the Thultyrl is pleased," answered Ivy. She was, too. There was enough gold stuffed in the bottom of their bags to pay for a new barn roof and maybe a bit to spare. Still, the farm could use a few more improvements. A bigger kennel for Mumchance's dogs, thought Ivy, set very far from the house. Ivy looked back to the walls of Tsurlagol. The rubble of the western wall formed a ragged gap in the city's defenses. She smiled as she turned to the Thultyrl.

"Sire, can I assume that the treasury of Tsurlagol will cover the rebuilding of the city's defenses? After all, if the wall is left like that, the first wandering band of brigands or underpaid mercenaries…"

"Will dance right through the gap and set up camp in the center of the city," said Mumchance.

"And given the treaties that we hold with the city…" added Sanval.

The Thultyrl exchanged a fleeting look with his steward Beriall. It was a glance that said "this is going to be expensive." Ivy smiled very sweetly.

"This is what you get when you hire mercenaries," said Beriall, who had been a bit vocally bitter about the amount of gold that Ivy had already collected from him.