Half a dozen people started toward her. Makenna dropped the reins, and Pimo dropped the spell. The terrified horse bolted, carrying them with it, scattering villagers as it raced toward the cool safety of the woods.

The roar of the fire and the pounding hooves could not drown out the goblin girl's despairing scream.

"There was nothing more you could do, gen'ral." Cogswhallop gazed tenderly down at the hair of the young goblin woman, Natter, who had finally cried herself to sleep in his arms. "That you accomplished this much is a wonder."

"It wasn't enough," said Makenna stiffly. If she was a general, she was a bad one. The demon-cursed priest had won, and she had lost.

The little orphaned goblin boy stirred in her lap, and she cradled him gently, murmuring till he lay still again. His small fingers were curled around her thumb. The tips of Natter's fingers were tinged with green, but the boy's were the same as the rest of his skina"skin the same color as Makenna's. Cogswhallop said that meant he had a different gift. Only Greeners had green fingers. Makenna hoped the boy was warm enough, wrapped in her jacket. It was cold after the sun set, but they hadn't dared light a fire.

"How could they do this, those people, those humans?" she demanded. "Natter and Miggy said their family served that farm for five generations."

"And their folk did their best to fight for them. You have to grant that," said Cogswhallop.

"It wasn't enough."

Cogswhallop sighed. "Seems like nothing is enough these days. The priests are determined to get rid of us."

Makenna frowned. "I knew they'd forbidden folk to put out the bowls, that they were trying to drive you out, but . . . this is happening in other places?" She remembered Todder Yon's gossip.

"Aye. Why do you think there's so many of us living wild? Maybe you don't know, but most of the goblin races do better in villages. We're a civilized folk, for the most part.

"Which is more that can be said for humans!"

"You're human, gen'ral. No way around it."

"Maybe not. But this is one human who's going to light for goblinkind. Cogswhallop, you owe me, right?"

"Aye." He smiled down at the sleeping girl. "More than I can pay in a lifetime's service."

"Then I want you to help me fight the priests. To save as many of our people as we cana"and maybe get some of theirs! Will you do that? I'd have to have help. Much as I want to, I couldn't do it alone."

General. With the goblins' help, she could make it real.

"Are you asking me to be your second-in-command?" His eyes gleamed in the darkness. "Sounds a dangerous job to me. They'll be looking for you now. And someday you'll want to return to your own kind. Don't build too many obstacles in your path."

"I'm never going back to humankind." She said it with no particular emphasis; it wasn't a decision she had to defend, it was simply a fact. As much a part of her as her bones.

"Aye, you think that now, with the smoke stench in your hair. But this will fade. Someday a likely lad will come along, and you'll discover that you're human enough."

"You're wrong," said Makenna. "I'm going to fight the humans. I swear it on my mother's soul. And no one will make me change my mind. No one."

CHAPTER 4.

The Knight FIVE YEARS LATER . . .

Tobin woke up in the middle of the night with an urgent need to go to the privy. He muttered a curse, softly, so as not to wake his brother, and groped for his slippers, but he couldn't find them. The need grew more urgent.

Tobin yawned and crawled out of bed, wincing as his feet hit the cold stone floor. The privy was at the far end of a long corridor. By the time he returned his feet were thoroughly chilled and he was much more awake. As the light from the corridor lamp spilled into the room, he saw his slippers placed neatly at the foot of his bed and whispered another curse, glancing over at Jeriah, for his brother was a light sleeper. The blankets didn't even stir. Jeri was usually a very light sleeper. Tobin frowned and tiptoed over for a closer look.

He swore loudly this time, yanking the covers back. The bed held nothing but artfully stacked pillows.

Tobin took two angry steps toward the door and then hesitated. Did he really need to leave his warm bed in the middle of the night to chase after his brother? Jeri was fifteen, only three years younger than Tobina"by St. Rydan the Teacher, it was time he started looking after himself! Perhaps having his big brother hovering all the time actually provoked him to mischief.

It was a sobering thought, and Tobin's anger lessened. But he'd been careful not to mother Jeri all winter. And this had happened before. This winter had been Jeriah's first campaign, his first taste of the horror, exhilaration, and boredom of fighting the southern barbarians. There had been nights, in the army camp, when Jeriah's bed was empty till nearly dawn. Too many nights? Most boys went a little wild on their first campaign. Tobin had kept a firm grip on the bulk of their funds and told himself that even Jeri couldn't get into too much trouble in the restricted world of the camp. But this wasn't the camp, this was the City of Stepsa"what could his brother be up to here?

Tobin looked longingly at his own bed. His feet were freezing. He might go back to bed, but he'd never be able to sleep. Promising himself that he'd skin his brother with a dull knife when he laid hands on him, Tobin began to fumble for his clothes.

His soft-soled boots hardly made a sound as he ghosted down the corridors. No one seemed to be stirring except a few men on their way to the privy. Tobin whisked into other men's rooms twice to avoid being seen, and it was only by the Seven Bright Ones' grace that he didn't wake anyone. It would be ironic if he got in trouble and Jeriah made it safely back to bed. But if his brother wasn't in the dormitory, where was he?

The compound that housed knights who had no other lodging was in the second tier of the city, surrounded by a high wall that separated it from the third tier on one side and the even higher wall of the Hierarch's palace on the first tier. All the gates were guarded, so Jeri must be somewhere on this level. And there was nothing on this level except the offices of the civil clerks and the buildings dedicated to the maintenance of the military, the stables, the tilt yard . . . and the armory.

Tobin grimaced. The armory held possibilities for mischief, and so did the tack in the stables.

He let himself out of the dormitory. The late spring night was like silk against his skin; no need for the cloak he'd forgotten. The rising moon gave him plenty of light.

On the southern border now, even the nights were hot, and during the day the desert would be a scalding shield on which nothing could survive. Tobin was always relieved when the onset of summer forced the barbarian tribes to retreat to their distant, stony mountains in the far south.

This winter had been his third campaign. Tobin been knighted at the beginning of the year. Once it had been his dream, to be a knight. But by the time the Hierarch's staff touched his shoulder, Tobin had realized that it was not honor it carried, but a lifelong burden. Tobin was tired of fighting. He wanted to go home, to spend his days helping his father see to their horses and learning the management of the farms and villages in their care.

He knew this war was necessary. The Hierarch's army was all that stood between the southern farmlands and the barbarians. And when those barbarians had broken through the hard-held lines, and sacked a farm or a town, Tobin had seen what they did. But he hated killing them anyway. And it seemed to him, perversely, that the more barbarians the army killed the more there were, more every year, and no end in sight.

It had been six years since the Decree of Bright Magic, which was supposed to induce the Bright Ones to favor the Hierarch's army, but Tobin had seen no sign of the G.o.ds' favor so far. Well, it was over for this year. He was free to go home as soon as he saw Jeriah placed as a squire in the Hierarch's servicea"provided his brother was still acceptable to the Hierarch if tonight's prank came to light.

Tobin approached one of the gates. The guard's only business was with those who wanted to pa.s.s through, but he still had no wish to be seen. He heard the guard arguing with someone and crept closer to the shadow of the wall.

"Come now, sir, you're in the wrong place. The guest quarters are at the north side of the city on the third level down. May I get someone to guide you, sir?"

"Demon's claws, why'd you think I need a guide? I know perfectly well where I'm at. Perfec'ly. What you think I am, drunk?" Torchlight gleamed on the rich embroidery of the man's jacket. A lord, probably. At the least, a man of wealth and influence. Tobin sympathized with the guard.

"No, sir, of course you're not drunk. Anyone can get lost in this maze of a place, sir. I'll just fetch you a guide."

"What makes you think I need you t' guide me?" the lord demanded. "Fool like you couldn't guide no one. You don' even realize that I'm drunk!" The man toppled into the guard's reluctant embrace. "I'm going to be sick now," he confided.

Tobin slipped easily past the cursing guard. As long as he didn't laugh, there was small chance of his being noticed.

There was no one in the armorya"or if there was, they were quieter than Tobin could imagine Jeri and the wild group of squires he'd befriended ever being. He moved on to the stables. Tobin had thought Jeriah was dropping that lot. Lately he'd seen his brother more often in the company of a group of knights, most of whom were older than Tobin.

Tobin frowned, remembering several heated, low-voiced conversations that had been broken off at his approach. But what in this world could Jeri be up to that included Sir Sharam and Sir Brilan? Master Carderi was a priest! Surely they weren't involved in the kind of mischief that would draw a young squire from his bed. And yet there had been something odd about Jeriah lately. He'd been quieter, almost . . . secretive? Tobin had put it down to growing up, perhaps even a desire to put some distance between himself and his motherly older brother. He'd been a little hurt that Jeri hadn't realized he'd understanda"that he was prepared to give a young man freer rein than he'd given a boy. But now . . .

Tobin stared into the quiet stable. The big horses dozed peacefully, a sharp contrast to his uneasiness.

Jeriah wasn't in the stables. He wasn't in the grooms' quarters, or the deserted tilt yard, so unless he was in the pasture, the clerk's offices, or swimming in the lake, he wasn't on the second level at alla"and that was impossible because he couldn't have gotten past the gates! The Hierarch's guards might be distracted by a drunken wanderer, but they knew their business. The only way to pa.s.s through those gates unchallenged would be to kill them. So where in this world or the Other was Jeriah?

Could he have gone for a moonlight swim? With a warm public bath available? Besides, the lake sh.o.r.e was a blanket of mud ....

. . . just like the mud on the boots he'd seen thrust under Jeri's bed only a week ago. At the time Tobin had smiled and resolved to let Jeriah discover for himself that boots under the bed didn't get cleaned. Now he gritted his teeth, furious at his own stupidity. Friends had told Tobin that there was a place you could sneak under the wall between the second and third levels, if the lake was low enough, but Tobin had never used the escape route himself, and he'd almost forgotten about it.

He stamped through the deserted pasture to the place where the lake met the twelve-foot-high wall, and squished along beside it through the muddy lake bed. The ground on the other side was level with the ground here, the water flowing under the barrier through grated pipes, but . . . Yes, here was the pa.s.s-through, a muddy dip where the ground beneath the wall had washed away. Even in the moonlight, he could see boot tracksa"and they were Jeriah's size.

There was no reason to stand in the mud. Tobin trudged back out of the lake bed and found a large stone half sheltered in a clump of bushes and settled in to wait for his wayward brother. And kill him. And then shake the truth out of him.

He was dozing when he heard the sc.r.a.pe of boots over rock and the harsh panting that heralded an approach. Tobin smiled grimly, peering through the brush until the man scrambled under the wall. His hood was drawn forward over his face, despite the mildness of the night, but Tobin recognized the cloak.

He held quite still as Jeriah hurried past his hideout, then he stepped out and grabbed his brother's wrist firmly. "Got you!"

Jeriah jumped and spun around, moonlight flashing on the knife in his free hand. Only the reflexes developed through three years of combat enabled Tobin to leap aside as the knife plunged toward him.

He grabbed Jeriah's other wrist and forced the knife up. Jeriah pulling a knife? The impossibility of it swirled through his mind. Was this his brother, or had he ambushed someone else? The man's hood had fallen completely over his facea"it must be blinding him.

The man twisted his wrist, almost freeing the knife, and Tobin braced himself and kicked the inside of his opponent's knee, hard.

The m.u.f.fled cry sounded like Jeriah, but Tobin didn't have time to think about it. He surged forward, pushing his opponent's wrists up and back, and the man's damaged knee gave, tipping him backward, with Tobin on top of him. He slammed the hand that held the knife against the ground, harder and harder, until his opponent cried out and the knife fell.

Tobin let go of the man's wrist long enough to cast the knife into the bushes. The man's freed hand struck for his face and missed by inches. With a m.u.f.fled curse the man swiped the hood off his face, and Tobin grabbed his wrist and bore it toward the ground. But the man wasn't resisting. Tobin looked down and met his brother's startled eyes.

"Tobin! What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

"And why did you pull a knife on me?"

"I didn't know it was you. Thank the Seven I missed! Tobin, let me up, I've got to get out of here!" Jeriah's wrists twitched in his grasp.

"Not a chance. Not till you tell me what's going on."

"But you don't understand! They're after me! I think I lost them, but they had dogs and trackers and they might have picked up the trail again. I've got to be in bed before they start looking for missing men. Tobin, let me up!"

"Who's after you?" demanded Tobin, not budging.

Jeriah stopped struggling. "The Hierarch's guard."

"The Hiea" By the Bright G.o.ds Jeri, what did you do?"

"Are you going to let me go?" his brother asked quietly.

Tobin released him, and Jeriah sat up, grimacing and rubbing his wrists, then, gingerly, his knee.

"Jeri, tell me what's wrong."

"I can't," said Jeriah. "It's not your business and I don't want to involve you. Help me up."

"Involve me? I'm your brother. I'm supposed to be placing you in the Hierarch's service. How can I not be involved when you do something stupid and make that impossible?"

"Well, if I don't get back to bed, that will certainly be impossible." Jeriah's eyes gleamed with a determination that disturbed Tobin more than anything he'd said. He'd never before seen his impetuous brother so cool and self-controlled.

He grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him up, but when Jeriah put his weight on his injured knee, he gasped with pain and his leg buckled.

"Demon's teeth, I've torn something," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"You mean I tore something," said Tobin remorsefully. "Lean on me. Can you make it, or shall I fetch someone to carry you?"

"You mustn't fetch anyone," hissed Jeriah. He hobbled a few steps, wincing.

"But you have to see a healer priest, Jeri. Whatever's wrong, it isn't worth crippling yourself." Memory washed over him coldly. "Or is it? Jeriah, why did you pull a knife on me?"

"Because if it had been anyone but you, and they'd stopped or recognized me, I'd have had to kill them. Do you still want to fetch me a healer priest?"

"No." Through his stunned shock, Tobin's mind finally began to function and his irritated alarm deepened into real fear. "Jeri, you have to tell me what's going on."

"No, I don't." Jeriah gritted his teeth and tried to move faster. The sickly pallor of his face gleamed in the moonlight. "You know too much already."

"Not by half, I don't! You said the guard was after you! If they'd caught you, what would the charge have been?"

"They'll catch me yet, if you don't get going!"

Tobin slowed his pace even more. "The charge, Jeri."

"I can't tell you."

Tobin stopped and spun his brother to face him. "Of all thea"" Then he heard it, and his blood ran colda"the distinctive, high-pitched baying of the Hierarch's tracking dogs, on the other side of the wall and not far away.

Jeriah drew a short sharp breath, but when he turned to Tobin his voice was calm. "Run. You can cross the pasture before they get here. Then they'll be busy with me."

"Buta""

"I'll never make it with this knee." The baying sounded closer. "Go on, Tobin. This isn't some prank played with gisap glue and feathersa"-you can't mother me out of it. Just... I love you, brother. Now go!"

Tobin's fear transformed itself into a well of still, icy terror. "Whatever it is, it's not worth dying for."

Jeriah's face contorted. "It would have been," he whispered pa.s.sionately, "if we'd been able to bring it off, buta" Tobin, the charge is high treason. So go now, all right?" Jeriah pushed him away. "There's no time to be stupid. Think what it would do to Mother to lose us botha"to Father to have his heir disgraced as well as his second son. Go on, Tobin, run!"

Terror rose and drowned him. A traitor's death. They took an ax and hacked you, screaming, into bits, keeping you alive as long as they could. His little brother. Never.

"Jeriah," said Tobin. The dogs were nearer now. Jeriah turned and Tobin swung his fist up, striking the point of Jeriah's chin, just like the master of arms had taught him.

He caught his brother as he fell, limply unconscious, and threw him over his shoulder. The slope of the lake bed was steeper here. There was a small gra.s.sy island, just a dozen feet from the lake's sh.o.r.ea"even a dozen feet of shallow water was enough to cover their tracks, and the wind was in the right direction to keep the dogs from scenting anything.

Tobin waded out and dumped Jeriah on the island's far side, fumbling furiously with his brother's cloak pin. The dogs sounded as if they'd almost reached the gap beneath the wall. Swinging Jeriah's cloak around his shoulders, Tobin splashed back through the lake and raced away. He was halfway across the pasture when the baying became crystal clear, and he knew the dogs had come under the wall. The shouts of their handlers sent him flying over the rough ground. One quick glance over his shoulder told him they'd pa.s.sed the island where Jeriah lay and were happily chasing after him. The dogs, drawn by the scent on the cloak, had no doubt of their quarry. All I have to do now is save myself.

He raced into the tilt yard and rolled under the fence without a check. Sword posts, jumps, jousting barriersa" no place to hide, nothing to stop them. The stables? On a horse he could outrun them, perhaps even get through a gate.

He banged through the door and slammed it, startling the nearest horses, who snorted and stamped. He took a second to drop the latch and pull the string so it couldn't be opened from the other side, then he ran along the corridor. His own horse? No, it might be recognized. He threw open the big doors at the other end of the stables and chose a dark bay that would blend with the night.