"Still, they have been most effective in carrying out your wishes," added the Pearl with an elegant roll of her shoulders that stopped just short of a shrug. She was dressed all in palest blue today, with her namesake jewels stitched into elaborate patterns on her long robe. Long metal guards of enameled silver covered her fingernails and winked in the sunlight when she gestured with one elegant hand.

"Quite so," said the Thultyrl. "Do we understand that you are wall builders as well as wall breakers?"

"Well, it takes a larger crew, but once we bring the harvest in, we could pull more people from our farm," stated Ivy. "We could hire from the city too. After a siege, there are always people needing work. That way you would be giving some of the wealth of Tsurlagol's treasury back to Tsurlagol's people. A popular thing to do, I would think."

"Does a Thultyrl need to be popular?" asked the Thultyrl.

"You already are," answered the Pearl. "But it would be a kindness to give some of Tsurlagol's wealth to those who labor hardest and best with their hands."

The Thultyrl nodded.

"Mimeri would love to travel," suggested Gunderal. "She is so good with stone spells."

Sanval cocked an eyebrow at Ivy, and she hissed back, "Youngest sister. She gets it from her mother's side of the family."

"And her mother was?"

"I'll explain to you later."

"I was thinking of flying buttresses on the west side," continued Mumchance, drawing plans in the dirt with the tip of his sword.

"Ground is too flat," said Kid, scuffing a few lines with an edge of his hoof.

"Good thinking. Dry moat," replied Mumchance. "Maybe two. At an angle. To baffle any stonethrower from coming close to the walls."

"Such tricks will not stop a wizard, dear sir," said Kid.

"A couple of glyphs. Something subtle." One old dwarf and one cloven-hoofed thief bent their heads together to contemplate the designs etched in the dirt, oblivious of the others watching them.

"Fascinating," said the Thultyrl. "Truly fascinating. Lady, you may bring Beriall your plans; we shall leave him as steward of Tsurlagol until the city is ready to govern itself. But we think that there are other matters which must be settled first."

One of those matters was a dripping trophy now prominently displayed before the Thultyrl's chair.

"And what do you want done with that?" sniffed Beriall. One of the Forty had dug out the big orc's body from the wreckage of the wall and hacked the head off, bringing it back as a trophy.

The Thultyrl bent forward, wincing a little from his healing wound, and stared into the dead eyes of the creature that had so disrupted his life. For the first time, the two were close enough to touch-the dead leader of the last remnant of the Black Horde, and the man who had never wanted to go to war. In profile, there was a certain grim resemblance between the two. It was, decided Ivy, the bare-toothed smile. Fottergrim's lips were curled up over his big fangs, as if he were still snarling insults from the top of the walls, and the Thultyrl's upper lip curled in an unconscious imitation of his foe.

"We will display it," declared the Thultyrl, straightening up. His face relaxed into the more charming smile that he typically wore. "A reminder to those who break the peace in Procampur or Tsurlagol."

The Pearl rustled forward. She signaled to a servant to remove the head.

"I will boil it down to the bone," stated the Pearl, as matter of fact as if she were reciting some recipe for stewed chicken, "and have it plated in silver with eyes of crystal. I will set it on a pillar of stone with a warning inscribed to all who doubt the strength of the treaties that tie Procampur and Tsurlagol."

"Oh very good," said the Thultyrl. "Put it on the side of the road exactly halfway between Procampur and Tsurlagol."

"As you wish," she agreed.

"And," he added, his glance sliding across Ivy and her group, "you'd best place some strong charms around it, or the next red-roof adventurer to pass it by is sure to steal it."

"Certainly," said the Pearl.

So it was done. The head of Fottergrim gleamed atop a pillar with a warning written below: "Fottergrim watches in vain for his rescue. So fall all who dare to assault Procampur's allies." Ivy passed the monument many times during her travels, and she always stopped to give the orc's silver skull a proper salute. If she tested the Pearl's charms against theft, she never admitted it to Sanval.

"And now there is the matter of the bugbear," continued the Thultyrl. Sanval groaned, although not very loudly.

"I wonder how a bugbear in the service of the enemy ended up wearing a piece of Procampur armor," said the Thultyrl.

Sanval turned bright red as the captured Osteroric was led forward by the youngest member of the Forty. The oblivious bugbear thanked Sanval for his breastplate, despite Sanval's best efforts to wave him off.

"It stopped an arrow," said Osteroric, displaying the dent. "That helped save my life!"

"Not exactly the use intended for an officer's armor," mused the Thultyrl, who pulled out a scroll from the basket beside his chair. Unrolling it, he hummed a little as he scanned its lines. "According to this section of the Grand Codex of laws," said the Thultyrl, "aiding the enemy is against the law, losing your armor when you are an officer of Procampur's army is against the law, failing to inform your Thultyrl about your plans is most definitely against the law, and so on and so forth."

Ivy stepped forward. After all, somebody needed to defend Sanval. The Thultyrl was having far too good a time teasing him, and she rather considered that particular form of amusement was reserved for her and her alone.

"I believe his actions were a credit to Procampur," she began and heard the others chorus their agreement.

"Still," said the Thultyrl with a slight smile, "his appearance when he returned to the camp was far less presentable than is considered proper for an officer of Procampur. Astoundingly so, I was told by several who saw him pass."

"Oh, yes, he definitely needs some extra polish, sir. Can't have an officer of Procampur that doesn't actually shine in the sun. Look at him today, not a scrap of shiny armor on him," said Ivy, looking Sanval up and down. "But he's not nearly as scruffy as the mercenaries in the lower camp. Still, I can see that the loss of uniform armor to a bugbear is a grave offense. Yet, he has done us some service, and some service to Procampur; for the defeat of Archlis was very much his doing." She gestured with her hands, a scale tipping up and then down again. "How about we pay his fines for him?" she concluded.

"That would be an acceptable solution and most comforting to have a little gold returned to us," murmured Beriall, who clutched the long list of claims given to him by Ivy. He kept pulling it out of his sleeve and checking it again. It was the most remarkably detailed document. Beriall intended to have it placed in its own niche in the library when he got home, in the section painted red and labeled "Fraud."

"Gold is such a common thing and most certainly not worthy of a discerning ruler like the Thultyrl," said Ivy. She heard Sanval choke behind her at her insolence, and Beriall give a little moan of disappointment. The Thultyrl only looked amused.

Ivy held up the battered spellbook that Kid had stolen from Archlis.

"It is one of a kind," she said. "A rare volume for one of the greatest libraries ever to be built."

Beriall rustled forward and took the book from Ivy's hand. He turned the pages slowly. "There are some interesting runes here," he said slowly. "Most unusual, sire." Pausing, he ran one plump finger down the center of the book. "And some missing pages."

"Well, it may have been slightly damaged dropping off a wall and so on," said Ivy.