There was an excited young shepherd in Exarch Yeudon's study when Eliar led Althalus, Bheid, and Khalor into the room. The shepherd had fiery red-almost orange-hair, and he wore a sheepskin tunic. "They were mounted on horses, your Eminence" the young man was shouting, "and they were killing my sheep!"

"Calm yourself, Salkan," the silver-haired Exarch told him, motioning Bheid and the others to remain silent.

"I showed them, though," the shepherd said fiercely. "I killed three of them. That'll teach them to leave my sheep alone."

"I'm fairly sure that the three you killed won't bother you again," Yeudon murmured. "There are some people at the door, Salkan. Would you mind waiting outside for a moment?"

"Perhaps he should stay, your Eminence," Althalus suggested. "He has some information I think we're going to need."

"You certainly move around, Scopas Bheid," Yeudon observed.

"My Exarch encourages diligence, your Eminence," Bheid replied. "He insists, actually. This is General Khalor, the commander of the Arums who approach your western frontier even now. We've brought him on ahead to introduce him."

"Your Eminence," Khalor said with a curt nod of his head. "Would it be all right if I spoke with your young visitor? He's actually seen our enemies, and I'd like to get some details."

"Of course, General Khalor," Yeudon replied.

"Your name is Salkan?" Khalor asked the redhead.

"Yes, Sir."

"How many horsemen were there in the party that attacked you?"

"At least a dozen," Salkan replied. "I was a little excited, so I didn't really count them."

"Where exactly were you grazing your sheep?"

"Up near the frontier-not that you can really tell exactly where the frontier is up there. It's just open pastureland, so there's no boundary of any kind."

"I think I'll have to fix that," Khalor said, "but we can get to it later. Now, these men who attacked you-what kind of weapons did they have?"

"Spears," Salkan replied.

"Short ones? Or were they long?"

"Pretty long."

"Were they throwing them? Or were they riding along stabbing your sheep with them?"

"That's the way they were using them. I don't remember any of them throwing their spears."

"Were they carrying any other kinds of weapons?"

"I think they had curved swords."

"Were any of them carrying axes?"

"Not that I saw."

"If they were on horseback and you were on foot, how did you manage to kill those three?"

"I used my sling, sir. All Wekti shepherds carry slings. We have to drive off packs of wolves every so often, so we practice with our slings all the time."

"Where do you aim?"

"Usually for the head."

"You don't carry spears or bows?"

"They'd just get in the way, sir. A sling doesn't weigh hardly anything, and you can find good rocks anywhere."

"I thought the sling was just a child's toy."

"Oh, no, Sergeant Khalor," Althalus told him. "I carried a sling for years myself when I was younger. It kept me eating on a regular basis."

"Could a man kill a horse with one?"

"Easily. The bone between a horse's eyes isn't very thick. I haven't used a sling for a long time, but I'm fairly certain I could drop a horse in midstride from a hundred paces."

"That's a little hard to swallow, Althalus."

"I've taken rabbits at fifty paces-and a horse is quite a bit bigger than a rabbit."

Sergeant Khalor suddenly grinned broadly. "I think my job just got a lot easier. You were dead wrong, Althalus. The Wekti do have an army, and it's exactly the force I'm going to need."

"I'm not sure I follow your reasoning, General Khalor," Yeudon said with a puzzled look.

"Infantry's at a distinct disadvantage in a fight with cavalry, your Reverence," Khalor explained. "Mounted men can move faster than my foot soldiers can, and they use the bulk of their horses to push us back. I'll build the standard earthworks along the top of the hills and line the hillsides with pointed stakes and trip lines, but that'll be mostly for show. Our enemies are cavalry units, and they'll charge up the hillsides to attack my trenches. As soon as they come in range of your shepherds' slings, though, they'll stop."

"Our religion frowns on the killing of our fellow men, General."

"Young Salkan here killed three, didn't he?"

"That was in the defense of his sheep, General. In those circumstances, killing men is permitted."

"Don't worry, your Reverence. I don't want your shepherds to kill men. I want them to kill horses. Our enemies are cavalry, and they've probably spent their whole lives on horseback. They're so bowlegged by now that they can scarcely walk. After your shepherds kill their horses, though, they'll have to walk to reach my trenches. Their spirits will already be broken, and they'll be fighting-uphill-in a manner they aren't accustomed to. I'll have them for lunch."

"How do you know that their spirits are going to be broken?"

"A cavalryman gets very attached to his horse, your Eminence. He loves his horse even more than he loves his wife. We'll be facing an army of blubbering cripples trying to charge uphill through obstacles and in a hailstorm of arrows and javelins. Very few of them are going to reach my trenches. I'd better go have a look at the ground and find a suitable location for the earthworks."

"Won't it take quite a long time to dig trenches all the way across northern Wekti?" Yeudon asked.

Khalor shrugged. "Not too long, really. I have a lot of men, your Eminence, and they'll dig diligently, since the trenches are the only defense they'll have to keep them alive."

"We've still got some daylight," Althalus said when they returned to the House, "so we've got time enough to go have a look at the ground. Bheid, why don't you go tell Dweia what we've accomplished so far today? Don't make too big an issue of killing horses, though; she's sort of sentimental sometimes. Tell her that we'll be back in a little while. All right, Eliar," he continued, "let's go look at northern Wekti."

It was a murky afternoon when Eliar led Althalus and Khalor through a door that opened out onto a grassy hillock. Sergeant Khalor looked around. "No trees," he said.

"That's why people call it grassland, Sergeant," Althalus told him. "We call the places with trees forests."

"You really ought to try to get over that, Althalus. My point was that we'll need stakes, so we'll have to bring them with us when we come here."

"Althalus!" Eliar hissed. "Pekhal's out there someplace!"

"Where?"

"I'm not sure. He's close, though. The Knife's singing to me."

"Why don't you see if you can get it to be more precise."

Eliar closed his hand around the Knife hilt, and a look of intense concentration crossed his face. "They're, right on the other side of this hill," he whispered.

"They?"

"I think it's Ghend who's with him."

"Take us back to the House! Now!"

"But "

"Do as he says, Eliar!" Khalor snapped in a half whisper.

"Yes, sir."

Eliar led them back to the place where the door was located, and they went through it to emerge back in the corridor of the House. "Where do we want to go now, Althalus?" Eliar asked.

"I'm not sure if this is going to work, but I want you to find a door that's about ten feet from where Ghend and Pekhal are standing. Then open the door as quietly as you can. I don't want to go through the door, though. What I want to do is stand here in the corridor and listen to what they're saying."

"Now that's something I hadn't even thought of," Khalor said admiringly. "Do you think you can mange that, Eliar?"

"I'm not sure, Sergeant. We can try, I suppose." Eliar put his hand on the door next to the one they'd just used. "This one feels about right," he whispered. He slowly turned the handle and inched the door open.

Just beyond that door Althalus saw Ghend and Pekhal standing in knee-high grass. The sky to the west was an angry red, and seething black clouds raced across that fiery sunset. Beyond the two men, Althalus could see a vast encampment that spread out over the next valley.

Ghend still wore that peculiarly archaic helmet he'd worn in Nabjor's camp, and his burning eyes flashed angrily at the brutish Pekhal. "I want you, and Gelta to stop all this playing around. Quit running across the border to murder everybody you come across."

"We're just taking out scouting parties, Master," Pekhal replied.

"Of course you are. Sometimes she's even worse than you are. Put a leash on her, Pekhal. Tell her to stay on her own side of the border. How long will it be until the rest of her army's in place?"

"Two weeks at least. She's got three tribes that haven't arrived yet."

"Tell her that she's got one week. We've got to move before Althalus can fortify that frothier. Tell her to pull back and stop these raids across the border. We move in one week, whether you and Gelta are ready or not. I've got to stay ahead of Althalus."

"You worry too much about him," Pekhal scoffed harshly.

"You'd better start worrying, Pekhal. He's moving faster than I thought he possibly could. He's learning more about that House every day. Now pull back and quit raiding down into Wekti. All you're doing is alerting him."

"Yes, Master," Pekhal replied sullenly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

Shut the door, Eliar," Althalus whispered. Eliar nodded and quietly closed the door. "Well, Khalor?" Althalus asked the hard-bitten Sergeant. "Have we got time enough to be ready for them?"

Khalor squinted thoughtfully. "It'll be close," he said, "but with a little luck..." He shrugged.

"I've always been sort of lucky," Althalus said, "but just to be on the safe side, I think we'd better have a talk with Dweia."

"Who's he?" Khalor asked.

"He's a she, Sergeant," Eliar said, "and I think you're going to like her."

"Where does she live?"

"Right here," Althalus told him. "This is her House."

"She's a noblewoman, then?"

"She goes quite a ways past noble, Sergeant," Eliar said.

Althalus led them along the corridor to the granite stairs at the base of the tower. "She stays here-most of the time," he said as they started up.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they found the others there. Dweia, Andine, and Leitha were deep in a discussion about hairstyles, Bheid was reading the Book, and Gher was staring out the north window at the mountains of ice with a bored took of discontent.

"How nice of you to stop by, Althalus," Dweia observed drily.

"Busy, busy, busy," he replied.

"Stop that!"

"Sorry. We've been jumping around quite a bit. This is Sergeant Khalor. He'll be commanding our forces in Wekti."

"Sergeant." Dweia greeted their guest with a slight inclination of her head.

"Ma'am," he replied. "You have quite a house here."

"I'm glad you like it. My brother left it to me quite some time ago."

"It's an unusual sort of place."