•^ PART I 3%

THE BEGGAR
QUEEN

^ \ ^c

Spring in the Caria River valley was a matter of opin-
ion. The day had beguh gently. By dusk, when Theo
reached the little inn at Mull, it was spitting hard, grainy
snow.

He made sure his horse was decently stabled, then
carried what little baggage he had into the public room.
Near the fire, a traveler sat carefully scraping his boots.
With his wmdbumed face and patch of gray hair, he
could have been any kind of stteady, reliable journey-
man who did his own work and minded his own busi-
ness.

Theo stopped short. The steady, reliable journeyman.
when Theo last saw him, had been galloping like a
maniac on a stolen cavalry mount, his shirt in bloody
tatters.

Theo dropped his traveling case. "Luther?"

The man recognized him at the same instant and in
a couple of long-legged strides came to greet him, look-
ing him up and down with easy familiarity.

"The latest fashion in Marianstat?" Luther's glance
took in the stained cloak and scuffed boots.

[3

"I wouldn't know." Theo grinned back at him. "I
haven't been there for—it must be six months now."

"Alone? The future prince of Westmark without a
dozen lackeys following?"

"I did have one," said Theo. "He worked very hard
at stealing my clothes and selling them. Apart from that,
he did nothing; so I finally sent him back to court."

"The right place for a lazy rascal. Now, lad, what
brings you to Mull?"

"I'm on my way to the Caria Col. I want to see the
mountains, and the Homgard. And you? I don't think
you're here to admire the scenery."

"No."

"What then?"

"Business."

Theo knew better than to press for explanations. In-
stead, he asked, "How is Florian?"

"As always. Himself."

Theo nodded. They had been there, all of them, the
day Florian raided the Nierkeeping arsenal; Mickle—he
could never think of her now as Princess Augusta;

Count Las Bombas and Musket. And Zara, the russet
divinity; Stock, the poet, roaring at the top of his voice.
Florian's companions, those he called "my children,"
who would have followed him anywhere—as Theo
might have done- He remembered himself that mom-
ing, pistol raised; and another of Florian's children, half
his face slashed open.

He hesitated, then asked, "What about Justin?"

"With Florian. He's well. Remarkably well."

The room was filling with travelers driven in by the
snow. Luther motioned with his head. "Talk in my
room."

i4

Theo shouldered his bag and followed, stopping at
the foot of the stairs to ask the landlord if any packet
had come for him from Marianstat. The landlord, with
a kitchen cloth tied around his neck, was entertaining
his cronies in an alcove behind the serving counter,
trying to play a hand of cards and wait on his guests at
the same time. He ducked into the alcove and came
back to advise there was none.

Luther had overheard Theo's inquiry. "Do you get
much news from the palace?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Mickle—Princess Au-
gusta—writes to me. So does Chief Minister Torrens.
They're never sure where I'll be, and neither am I- By
the time anything catches up with me it could be weeks.
I send them word whenever I find a dispatch rider. It
gets there sooner or later."

"Money?"

"Enough. I have a treasury warrant. King Augustine
himself signed it. Do you need anything?"

Luther winked. "You can buy supper for us later."

Luther unbolted a door at the head of the stairs. The
chamber was small, and the slope of the raftered ceiling
made it appear still more cramped. Except for a pair of
saddlebags in the comer,. there was no sign it had been
much lived in. The table was bare, the straw mattress
unrumpled. The fire had nearly burned out in the
hearth.

"The landlord claims it's the best room in the house."
Luther lit a candle stub. He squatted at the fireplace
and blew on the embers- "I hope he's lying. Now, let's
hear about your grand tour."

"Not very grand," said Theo, "but it suits me better
this way. I can see more on my own." He gave Luther

5]

a wry smile "Sometimes I wonder if Augustine wants
me to leam about the kingdom or if he Just wants me
anywhere but at the Juliana Palace No—that's not fair
He means weil 1 could have stayed It was my choice

"Even so," he went on, "I stiil wonder Mickle doesn't
care a rap if she's a princess and I'm a commoner For
Queen Caroline, it's bad enough that I was a printer's
devil Worse, that I had anything to do with Flonan
The courtiers already make it a royal scandal '

"Meanwhile, they pack you off sightseeing '

"I've done more than that " From his )acket, he took
a wad of papers, closely written, tied about with string.
"I've been keeping a journal What I've seen, what I've
done I've talked with bailiffs, stewards, tenant farm-
ers I've been looking at town archives, too, estate ac-
counts when I can get at them I put down all the
figures how much yield for an artistocrat's land, how
much more for a freeholder's There's no question, it
strikes you in the face—"

"That the aristocracy's made a botch of it," put in
Luther "Embarrassing discovery for a future pnnce "

"I copied the figures and sent them to Torrens and
the king They can see for themselves "

Luther chuckled "You're a born troublemaker You
should have stayed with us "

"No There must be another way to set things right
Not trying to pull down the monarchy There's terrible
poverty in the countryside, in the towns, too, for that
matter But if it couid be worked out fairly, everyone
would be better off It's common sense—"

"It's common sense to end the monarchy altogether
Start with that, not with how many bushels of corn to
an acre "

[61

"That's only your way of looking at it '
"Mine And a great many others' "
Theo put back his papers Argument was useless
Luther, like Flonan, had set on one path and would see
no other What troubled Theo was whether they under-
stood things more clearly than he did He brightened
as he reached into the traveling case "I've been doing
something else "

He brought out his sketchbook and opened it on the
table Since leaving Mananstat, he had taken the habit
of drawing At first, it merely passed the time But lately
it had become more than idle amusement If a day
passed without adding to his sketches, he felt unsatis-
fied and empty

Luther paged through the book, now and then stop-
ping to look closer at a scene a peasant woman and her
child, a gaggle of street urchins, a fishwife, a carpenter
planing a board "That's Westmark Not your accounts
and archives "

Theo warmed his hands at the fire Something had
come into his mind the moment he had seen Luther in
the public room The older man appeared content to go
on studying the drawings

Theo finally fumed "You knew I'd be here You were
waiting "

"Yes " Luther glanced up "Flonan wanted to send
greetings "

"What else7 Come straight out '

"General Erzcour He commands the Caria military
region "

"I know He's a good officer, I've heard What of
him7"

"Flonan says Erzcour must be replaced If you press

171

your chief minister to do it, he'll pay attention- He'll
listen to one of his own people."

"I'm not one of his own people. Or anybody's."
Luther raised his hands in mock defense- "Don't get
ruffled. I didn't mean it that way."

"However you meant it, Erzcour's none of my busi-
ness. I can't guess what Florian has in mind. Perhaps I
don't want to. He's my friend, but I don't agree with
him. He knows that. How can he ask me this kind of
favor?"

"He sees it the other way round."
"Florian doing the monarchy a favor? Why?"
Luther shrugged. "Does it matter?" He closed the
book. "Take it as a favor or whatever. Only make sure
Erzcour's dismissed. Pensioned off. Anything. So long
as he has no troops under him.

"The king wants to make reforms. I'li give him that
much credit," Luther went on. "But some of the aris-
tocracy and the military won't stomach them. We don't
know how many are in the faction, but they're up to
some kind of mischief. It's a good guess Erzcour's with
them."

"You have proof?" Theo tried to stay calm. Even be-
fore he left Marianstat, there had been rumors of con-
spiracies, cabals, plots by disgruntled courtiers. They
had, fortunately, turned out to be overblown gossip-
"There's evidence against him?"

"Not yet. Florian suspects—"

"Only suspects?" broke in Theo. "Luther, the king
will want more than that. The law demands proof be-
yond question. When Cabbarus was chief minister,
honest folk were ruined, even hanged, on nothing but

[8}

suspicion. Augustine won't let that kind of thing hap-
pen again. Neither will any of us."

"Very admirable," returned Luther. "Do you think
Erzcour and his friends will stick at fine points of law?
Don't be a fool. Florian's given you a warning. Take it
or not."

Theo did not answer. Something was stirring below
in the public room. He heard voices raised, but not in
argument or rough Joking. The tone was agitated yet
subdued, an unsettling sound. Luther, too, noticed and
stepped to the door, listening. He motioned Theo to
stay behind and strode quickly downstairs. Theo waited
a few moments, then, as the commotion went on,
started after him.

Luther, returning, met Theo at the head of the stairs
and drew him back into the room. "A wool dealer just
up from Carisbruch. He heard it two days ago. Augus-
tine is dead. He died last week."

Theo caught his breath. In her last letter, Mickle had
mentioned only briefly that her father was ailing. That
had been midwinter. If she had sent a later message, it
had not reached him. He stared at Luther. Telling him-
self the day would come sooner or later, he had never
quite believed it. "Then—Mickle's queen of West-
mark."

"Long live the queen," said Luther, not unkindly,
though his words had an ironic edge to them. "And the
prince consort. Like it or not, you're a monarchist as
much as anyone can be."

"What you said about Erzcour and the rest—do you
think they had a hand in this?"

"I don't know. Kings die from time to time."

[9]

"I'm going to Marianstat." Theo started buckling his
traveling case. "The landlord can let me have a fresh
horse."

"Stay the night," said Luther. "No sense being on
the road at this hour. Your courtiers can wait."

"The courtiers can go hang. It's Mickle I care about.
I should be with her. She'll wonder why I'm not there
already. I'll save a day if I leave now. Tell Florian I'll
get to the bottom of this Erzcour business. If it's true,
he's done Mickle a service and I thank him."

"It won't rub my conscience too raw, associating with
royalty," said Luther. "I'll ride a little way with you."

"I'H go faster alone."

"Likely so. Farewell, then." He took Theo's arm.
"What's the matter? You don't have the look of a gallant

off to join his sweetheart, let alone a prince consort to
join his queen."

"It's—nothing." He turned away, picking up his bag.
"It took me by surprise."

For a young man with every prospect of happiness,
he did not want to admit how alarmed he was.

Half an hour out of Mull, the horse cast a shoe. Theo
reined up at the side of the road and dismounted, be-
rating the landlord who had sworn the animal was fit,
and himself for not making sure of it in spite of his
haste. He pulled up his collar and muffled his face for
a cold tramp back' to the inn.

The snow, at feast, had stopped. The moon had risen
bright and sharp-edged. Far below, at the foot of the
rocky embankment, the Caria River glinted with a film
of ice. Leading his limping mount, Theo bent his head
against the wind.

[10}

He stopped at the sound of hoofbeats. Another
horseman was coming at a brisk pace from the direc-
tion of the town. He glimpsed a squat figure crouched
in the saddle- Sighting Theo, the rider halted and called
out.

Surprised to hear his name, but glad for any help
that might be forthcoming, Theo ran toward him. The
rider, meantime, had swung nimbly to the ground.
Short and dumpy, wrapped in a trailing cloak, he raised
a finger to the brim of his hat.

"I knew it would be you, sir- But no harm in making
certain, is there?"

The voice was not one Theo could forget. The little
man's face was shadowed now, but clear enough in
Theo's memory: the plump cheeks, the moist, pink-
rimmed eyes. The name sprang to his lips without his
having to think of it.

"Skeit."

The man bobbed his head. "You remember, sir? in
the ordinary way of things, I'd prefer it otherwise. In
your case, I take it as a compliment.

"I lost track of you for a tnne, sir, and nearly missed
you again at Mull," he went on cheerfully. "When the
landlord told me a young gentleman of your description
went galloping off for Marianstat, I knew I'd come on
the right path again."

"Following me? You'd have done better to follow your
master, Cabbarus, to the devil or wherever he is."

"I have to earn my living, sir."

"Spy? Informer? Worse, for all I know."

Skeit gave him a wounded look. "Those are very hard
words, sir. I do my work. I have no grudge against
you."

[H

"No business with me, either."

"Now, there, sir, allow me to disagree." Skeit reached
into his cloak. "You understand, it's not a matter of ill
will. That's not in my nature."

Skeit's pudgy hand, when it emerged, held a pistol.

With the deftness of an expert at his trade, he cocked
the weapon, took precise aim, and fired.

12}

Queen Mickle urgently needed a few handfuls of dirt.
She had not, until tonight, realized how scarce it was.
Her apartments had, as always, been swept and dusted
relentlessly.

Her need had sprung up suddenly at the end of the
day. That morning, when Dr. Ton-ens, her chief min-
ister, arrived still without word of Theo, Mickle's pa-
tience, even then, was scraped to the bone.

"All I want," she said, in a tone as reasonable as she
could manage, "is a simple answer to a simple ques-
tion: Where is he?"

Torrens shook his head. "We have no further news,
Majesty, beyond what we already know."

"Which is nothing." Mickle paced the private audi-
ence chamber, hands clenched in the pockets of the
breeches she wore in preference to the cumbersome
skirts she suffered at grand ceremonials.

"The wheels of government turn slowly," said Tor-
rens.

"Oiled with molasses," Mickle snapped. Dispatches

13]

from local constables throughout the Caria valley, where
Theo's last letter had come from, were no help. Her
hopes had risen at the report of an innkeeper in a town
called Mull. He dimly remembered selling a horse to a
young man resembling Theo, but had no idea what had
become of either. The clue led only to a blind alley. The

officers Mickle sent from Marianstat had learned no
more.

"Have you heard from Erzcour?" she demanded.
"The general advises he is eager to serve in any way
he can. He offers troops to search the valley as soon as
Your Majesty gives him specific information."

"In other words," replied Mickle, "I tell him where
Theo is and he'll go find him."

Dr. Torrens watched her with concern. The girl, slight
of frame, narrow waisted, with jutting shoulders, looked
more street sparrow than imperial eagle. Unlike her
mother, the new queen was no beauty at first glance.
Yet there were times when her pale blue eyes made the
air crackle, for she could show the bearing and pres-
ence of a sovereign—when she chose—and her quick
mind absorbed all it lighted on. She might even be-
come, he speculated, the strongest of the royal line. But
she still had much to leam, Torrens thought sadly, and
one hard lesson was now before her.

"I urge you. Majesty, to put aside your personal cares.
Ail that can be done is being done. A ruler does not
neglect affairs of state for affairs of the heart. The mon-
archy continues, while the heart—"

"What are you telling me?" cried Mickle. "That I'm
supposed to go on, business as usual, and Theo miss-
ing for—"

[HI

"That is exactly what I am telling you," Ton-ens broke
in bluntly. "When your father believed you dead, he
lost himself in grief—and nearly lost the kingdom to
Cabbarus. Your private concerns are your own, and
must remain so, for you are a queen first and fore-
most." His tone softened. "Your work will make your
waiting easier."

As Mickle did not answer, the white-haired chief
minister laid a stack of documents on her desk. 'To
begin, the question of Baron Montmollin's landhold-
ings must be dealt with."

"I don't see any question," Mickle said. "His family
took common land that everyone was allowed to use for
grazing or farming and made it part of their private es-
tate. Theo wrote to us about it. He found proof when
he was digging through some sort of town archives.
The records show it was barefaced thievery."

"Undeniably common land," said Torrens, "but it was
added to the principal estate. La Jolie, two generations
ago."

"Thievery doesn't count if it's big enough and old
enough? Montmollin already has more acres than any-
one can keep track of. Add them up, he likely owns
half of Westmark. Well, this much he'll have to give
back to his tenants, no matter which of his noble ances-
tors stole it."

"Beyond a doubt, this should be done," said Tor-
rens, "But not hastily. It is not the moment. I urge you
to act with greatest deliberation."

"Delay, you mean," said Mickle. "if it's an old griev-
ance, the more reason to set it right as soon as possi-.
ble."

75|

"I do not advise it," replied Torrens. "The whole ar-
istocracy will feel threatened and turn against you.
Landless and landed alike throughout the kingdom will
demand investigation of all such holdings; some right-
fully, others merely seizing a chance for gain. It can
lead only to disorder. Since your father's death, the
monarchy is in too delicate a balance. Make no move
to disturb it. When your position is stronger, you may
do so. Until then, follow a policy of discretion."

"And don't step on any toes," Mickle retorted. "You,
of all people, advise that? You risked your life standing
up to Cabbarus. You weren't exactly discreet then- Now
you sound like a courtier."

Torrens stiffened. Color rose to his face. "I am no
courtier. Majesty, nor will I ever be- I offer you my best
judgment, for the good of the kingdom—and yours. If
you believe otherwise, I ask you to choose another chief
minister."

"Oh, Torrens, you know that's not what 1 meant,"
cried Mickle, going to him. The former Royal Physician
was her strongest resource: an honest, forthright man
whom she had now unwittingly hurt. The moment
passed; Torrens regained his composure, but with-
drew soon after, leaving the Montmollin affair unset-
tled.

Later, with her mother, Mickle was on the fine edge
of tears for the first time since Theo's disappearance. "\
don't understand it," she burst out. "I don't know why
they can't find him."

Queen Caroline stroked her daughter's hair. "There
is a possibility you must consider. A harsh one."

"That he's had an accident? Or could even be dead?"

16}

said Mickle. "That's a possibility I won't consider at
all."

"No," said Caroline. "Perhaps he cannot be found
because he does not wish to be found."
' Mickle frowned, puzzied, as the queen went on. "Six
months is long in a young life. Love sworn one day is
forgotten the next. This may be the case with your Theo.
You, my child, must not allow it to break your heart.
Affections change quickly. He would not be the first
young man to find another sweetheart."

"1 won't think that of him," Mickle snapped. "I don't
see how you can think it, either."

She did not believe a word of what Queen Caroline
had said.

She wondered if it might be true.

The rest of the day had been no happier than the
beginning. She finally closeted herself in her apart-
ments. Having given orders to admit no one, she was
all the more vexed when a lady-in-waiting informed her
of an individual claiming to be aJiobfeman who sought
an audience; who, in fact, insisted on it.

Before Mickle could give a tart answer, a paunchy
figure in a uniform glittering with medals thrust aside
the indignant courtier. To the further shock of the lady-
in-waiting, Mickle sprang up the instant she laid eyes
on the intruder and threw her arms around as much of
him as she could compass. A ginger-haired dwarf, with
an enormous cocked hat under his arm, had also
Stumped into the room.

"Count Las Bombas!" she cried. "Musket! I thought
you'd gone off to make your fortune!"

"My dear giri—dear Queen, that is/" answered the
portly count, "the less said about that the better." De-
spite the splendor of his uniform, he presented less than
his customary cheerfulness; his moustache hung wilted,
his cheeks sagged. "We're back from our travels and
heard the news only a few days ago. I came as fast as I
could to pay my respects. Which, alas, is all I'm in a
position to pay."

"As usual, down to the last penny," grumbled
Musket, "and he borrowed that one from me. I don't
expect to see it again."

"Nonsense," protested Las Bombas. "I find myself in
merely, what shall I call it, a fiscal pause."

"What about your elixir?" Mickle asked. "Your reju-
venating potions?"

"Excellent as ever," the count replied. "I wish I could
say likewise for the customers."

"If things get worse," said Musket, "he might have
to make an honest living."

"A prospect I intend to avoid at all cost," said the
count. "I have already attempted to tread the path of
rectitude and can attest that virtue is its own reward;

indeed, its only reward- Marvelously satisfying in a
dreary sort of way. Along the lines of meat and drink,
however, it leaves something to be desired. I prefer to
admire it at a safe distance."

During this, knowing the count's inclinations, Mickle
had ordered that food be immediately brought for her
visitors. Las Bombas attacked his victuals the instant
they arrived. If his fortunes had suffered, his appetite
had survived undamaged. Musket, though half the size
of his master, boasted an equal capacity.

18]

"We've tried everything," Las Bombas went on be-
tween mouthfuls. "My finest attractions: hypnotism,
fortune-telling, sleight of hand. They met with a re-
markably strong lack of interest. Ah, my dear, I long
for those golden days—golden in every sense of the
word—when we were all together. What a superb Or-
acle Priestess you were! And Theo—if he'd stayed with
me he could have blossomed into a first-class mounte-
bank, he had a gift for it. Where is he, by the way?
Occupied, no doubt, with his princely duties? He's one
-to take that kind of work seriously: a flaw in an other-
wise promising character; but he can't help it. Send for
him, my dear. I'm eager to see the iad."

"So am I," said Mickle. "He's vanished. Not a word,
not a trace." She quickly told Las Bombas what had
happened and how all efforts to find him had failed.

"Impossible. People don't vanish into thin air. In the
days of Cabbarus, yes. Not anymore. He must be
somewhere."

"I know that," said Mickle. "Tell it to those bumblers
searching for him- There's been so much delay, shilly-
shallying, dispatches sent back and forth, it makes my
teeth ache.

"Will you do me a service?" she continued, following
an idea that had been in her mind since Las Bombas
arrived. "The payment will be very worth your while."

"Accept money from a friend? Never!" declared Las
Bombas. "Yes, well," he added hastily, "it's better than
accepting it from a stranger. My dear Mickle, I should
be delighted to oblige you without thought of compen-
sation. Since you've thought of it, however, I'd not
be so insensitive to refuse."

t9]

"Do you still have your coach? And Friska?"

"Both in fine state. The coach does not require nour-
ishment, and Friska is content with her modest portion
of hay. i wish I could say as much for myself. Yes, we
all stand ready at your command."

"I want you to go to Mull, in the Caria valley, for a
start," said Mickle. "Theo could have been there just
before he disappeared. Wherever he is, find him. You
and Musket can do it better and faster than all the
troops, constables, and inspectors put together. You'll
have money, as much as you want. I'll order the Royal
Treasurer to give it to you now, cash in hand."

"Excellent!" Las Bombas heaved himself to his feet.
"We'll turn him up for you. Consider it done. We de-
part immediately."

"No," said Mickle. "Not until tonight. There are too
many busybodies in the palace during the day, too
many noses in other people's affairs."

"I don't see what difference it makes."

"Because," Mickle said, "I'm going with you."

The count stared at her. "The queen of Westmark?
Personally? Out of the question! It's—it's not fitting. It's
beneath royal dignity."

"Blast royal dignity," said Mickle. "Besides, I won't
let on I'm queen of anything. I'd never get the truth out
of anybody. You'll think of something we can pretend
to be. Torrens can manage without me for a while. I'll
leave a note for my mother where she'll be sure not to
find it until it's too iate to send after me."

"My dear girl, it simply won't do. The hardships of
the journey—"

"We've gone through worse," Mickle said. "I'm afraid
something's happened to him. My mother has the no-

120)

tion he's changed his mind, that he doesn't want us to
marry. That—that he's set his heart on somebody else.
I don't believe it, but if it's true I want him to tell me
so. To my face, straight out."

. "I'm sure it's not the case," the count said. "Even if
it were— Great heavens, girl, you can't ask me to be
responsible for your safety and comfort."

"I'll answer for my own safety and comfort- Of course,
if you don't want to take me with you, I won't force

you."

Las Bombas sighed with relief. "Now you're being

sensible."

Mickle grinned at him. "I'll go alone." While the count
sputtered a protest, she added, "Naturally, then, you
couldn't expect to be paid."

"Where your safety is concerned, mere gold cannot
influence me in the slightest. It's a matter of reasonable
mdgment, of conscience." The count puffed out his
cheeks and passed a hand over his brow. "Ah—there's
no question. You'd be better off with us. Very welt, I
agree. It's my patriotic duty."   >-

Las Bombas having yielded to conscience and duty,
Mickle instructed him to make everything ready for their
departure. To speed him on his way and protect him
from a sudden attack of afterthoughts, she wrote out a
treasury draft which she put into the reliable hands of
Musket, telling the dwarf to have the coach waiting that
night in an alley beyond the palace.

So it happened that Queen Mickle, as the Juliana bells
rang midnight, urgently needed a supply of dirt.

Until half a year ago, Mickle had spent most of her
life as a street urchin- She was able, thus, to slip into

121

that role again with great ease and even greater enjoy-
ment: It was a welcome relief.

Though she had also been an eager student of
housebreaking, apprenticed to one of the finest bur-
glars in Westmark, she understood that leaving the Ju-
liana by stealth would present a few unique difficulties
for the ruler. Guards of honor lined the corridors, sen-
tries were posted throughout the courtyard and at the
gates. The disguise of urchin would be essential in re-
joining Las Bombas. The queen of Westmark, Mickle
realized, had much power and little freedom.

She ripped and frayed a pair of breeches and a
shirt until they looked properly disreputable. She could
not say as much for herself. She had tied back her hair
and scuffed her boots; but she needed grime, and the
apartments were disgustingly dean. Mickle tried the
fireplace. The day had been mild, no fire had been lit,
and all traces of ash had been swept away. Reaching
up the chimney, she finally scraped off an ample amount
of soot, which she streaked over her face and hands
and rubbed into her clothing.

Satisfied with her new appearance, Mickle opened the
casement and stepped out onto the ledge. She swung
nimbly upward and clambered to the rooftop, stopping
Just short of the peak. From there, flattened against the
roof, she pressed along silent as a shadow in the direc-
tion of the palace wall until she reached a comer that
would let her descend without having to cross too large
an expanse of open courtyard.

A sentry paced below. Mickie slid easily down the
nearest rainspout, stopping a short distance above the
ground. She had planned to go the rest of the way as

22

soon as the man's back was turned. He was infuriat-
ingly slow. Instead of continuing his patrol, he stopped,
leaned his musket against the side of the building, and
yawned leisurely, giving every sign of lingering some
while.

Silently berating him for a lazy lout, she decided to
wait no longer. Las Bombas had ranked her among the
best mimics and ventriloquists he had known. Reiying
on those gifts, Mickle took a deep breath.

An instant later, seemingly from around the comer
nearest the sentry post, came a furious meowing and
spitting, followed by barks, growls, and yelps- The
guardsman seized his musket and ran to settle the most
ferocious cat-and-dog fight he had ever heard.

Mickle grinned with satisfaction. She had iost none
of her skill. She dropped to the flagstones and raced
across the courtyard. Legs pumping, she struck the wall
at full tilt. Her speed and momentum carried her half-
way up. Her fingers caught at the slightest handholds
in the cracks and crevices. Gaining the top, she swung
over without breaking stride and dropped lightly to the
street.

She crouched a moment in the darkness. Her mim-
icry had roused the kennels. From the palace grounds
rose the baying of every hound in the royal pack, and
the shouts of their bewildered keepers.
' Mickle vanished into the shadows.

(23

The ram was a magnificent specimen, with horns thick
as a man's forearm curling above the shaggy brow.
Deep-chested, coated with long white fleece, it lay on
its side against an outcropping of rocks. It was not quite

dead.
Three men in hunting costume, followed by their gun

loaders and the local foresters, walked briskly over the
stony ground. Afternoon sunlight sparkled on the blue
white peaks of the Domitians, the high range at the
eastern border of Westmark. The hunters were some
leagues beyond this frontier, well within the neighbor-
ing kingdom of Regia.

"Bravo, General!" Duke Conrad of Regia clapped his

hands. He was a stocky man with ruddy cheeks. "Ex-
cellent shot! They are elusive beasts, one rarely sees
them. A favorable omen for your visit. 1 congratulate

you."

"Your Highness promised good hunting." General

Erzcour tended toward fleshiness. His large, heavy face
and prominent cheekbones made his eyes appear es-

[241                             t

peciaily bright and sharp. He had the habit of slightly
pursing his lips, which made him look as if he were
about to taste something pleasant. "We have not been
disappointed."

"Certainly not in the matter of Regian game." The
third huntsman. Baron Montmollin, was the tallest of
the party. Although the eldest, he showed little trace of
age in his finely drawn features- Hunting, for the most
part, bored him; he strode along with his companions,
an expression of polite indulgence on his face.

"Nor shall you be disappointed in anything else, I
assure you," said" Conrad. "We are largely in agreement
already; the small matters can be settled quickly and
happily."

They halted a few paces from the ram. It was watch-
ing them. The animal struggled to lift its head and make
a thrust with its horns.

Duke Conrad turned to Erzcour. "The locals call these
creatures rock rams. The more proper term is Domitian
mouton. Is this your first? Splendid' You must indulge
us. General, by observing one of our Regian customs."

He gestured to the chief forester. Drawing his hunt-
ing knife, the man walked up to the ram and cut its
throat. Duke Conrad knelt and dipped his fingertips.

"Allow me. General- It is a very old custom. These
mountain fellows would be much put out if it were not
observed." He touched Erzcour's forehead and cheeks,
leaving imprints like scarlet flowers.

"Now, Erzcour," said Baron Montmollin, "you look
quite the savage."

"As a warrior should be," replied the duke. He wiped
his fingers on a handkerchief and threw it aside. "I

[251

would even suggest," he went on Jokingly, "that our
troops follow the example of those native tribes that

paint their faces to terrify their enemies."

"Some of our older court ladies," rejoined Montmol-
lin, "have already adopted that practice."

Conrad, laughing at the baron's sally, ordered the
foresters to deal with the carcass and led his guests
down the slope. They were in high good humor by the
time they reached a clearing in the wooded valley,

where grooms waited with the horses.

There was no sign of King Constantine, who was to
join them there. A groom reported that His Majesty had
sighted a stag at the last moment and had set off after

it.

"We shall not wait for him," Conrad told his visitors.

"My nephew sometimes lets impulse, instead of policy,
lead him. He knows where to find us. I can speak for

him in his absence."

"I hope Your Highness can also speak for his safety,"

Erzcour said.

"Have no concern," replied the duke. "He is an ex-
cellent huntsman." He added lightly, "In any case,
should some untoward event occur, the crown would
revert to his eldest blood relative. And so, gentlemen,
you would simply have me to deal with. That would
not be disagreeable to you and your colleagues? Speak-
ing theoretically, of course. Your plans would not be
affected. We Regians, once fixed on a course of action,
maintain it." He cocked an eye at the baron. "Your
present sovereign is not so reliable- Unfortunate. I hear,

Baron, she is called the Beggar Queen."

"So she is," replied Montmollin, "and I would prefer
to see her queen of beggars instead of queen of West-

1261

mark. We are adequately provided with beggars on the
streets; we do not require one on the throne."

The duke and his party rode back at an invigorating
pace to the royal lodge. In the main room, where tro-
phies of antlers and animal heads covered the walls, a
table had been set with refreshments,. Conrad motioned
for the servants to withdraw. The baron had strolled to
the gun racks and was examining a silver-mounted
pistol.

"An exquisite weapon," observed Montmollin. "It
would make death almost charming."

"Almost, but not quite." Conrad laughed. "Keep it,
Baron. I see you are a connoisseur. As for death, 1 must
say frankly that your king's demise has made our task
easier. Your Beggar Queen is new to her throne. She
has not, I gather, consolidated any great support among
her ministers, the army. or even her subjects. It is our
moment of opportunity. We must act quickly, however,
before that moment is lost to us."

"We are prepared to do so," Montmollin said, going
to the table. "The first move, my dear Duke, is up to
you."

"Our course of action is simple," said Conrad. "Gen-
eral Erzcour has already communicated with my staff
officers. They agree that Regian troops will attack West-
mark through the Caria Col. After a token resistance,
General Erzcour will surrender and order all units to do
likewise. We shall advance through the Caria valley. The
way wil! be clear for us to press on to Marianstat and
capture it. We shall offer generous terms, insisting only
on the abdication of the queen. She will be in no po-
sition to refuse.

"So. gentlemen, 1 see no difficulties," Conrad went

[27\

on. "For the sake of appearance, however, I believe it
would be wise for you. General, to be taken prisoner
temporarily, and treated with all the respect we pay to
a gallant adversary- I also suggest that you, dear Baron,
remain with us instead of returning to your estates. Not
a hostage, you understand, but an honored guest. A
small gesture of good faith. The king would appreciate

this."

Montmollin bowed. "I accept your delightful hospi-
tality. An unexpected pleasure, though I did not imag-
ine my good faith required demonstration."

Erzcour had been listening with growing concern. "A
soldier's oath is not taken lightly," he began after some
hesitation. "Nor can it be broken tightly."

Conrad frowned. "Second thoughts? At this late

stage?"

"General Erzcour is a good soldier," said Montmol-
lin. "If he is suffering pangs of conscience, I quite un-
derstand and commend him." He turned to Erzcour.
"You are not breaking your oath, I assure you. In the
highest sense, you are keeping it. You are not betray-
ing your kingdom. Nor am I. We are preserving it. The
aristocracy is its blood and bone. Who can better hold
it together? Yokels and cobblers? Tradesmen? The so-
called educated classes are no better than rabble who
have learned how to spell. The aristocracy alone stands
above greed and self-interest. Your duty lies with us."

"I do not question my duty," said Erzcour. "What I
require is clear agreement on my resistance at the Caria
Col. My troops cannot lay down their arms without of-
fering a genuine show of strength- Will Regia accept

the necessary casualties?"

[28]

"Of course," replied Conrad. "The invasion must be
convincing. But not exaggerated. In the first engage-
ments, we would expect to sacrifice, say, one hundred
men. And you? How many of your own before you
would judge surrender as the correct military deci-
sion?"

"I estimate three hundred," said Erzcour. "To lose
fewer would be for me to surrender dishonorably."

Duke Conrad nodded. "Agreed. At that price, your
honor will remain unblemished. Moreover, there will
be no undue hardships on either side. In a matter of
weeks, Constantine will enter Marianstat and receive
the crown of Westmark."

"We shall welcome him," said Montmollin. "A Reg-
it ian king is preferable to a beggar queen. We recognize
^ no boundaries between Regia and Westmark; that is a
''•'\_ trivial matter for geographers and toll collectors. We
:!f speak the same language, in every sense of the word,
° barring, of course, our slight differences in accent.

Though I must say that your provincial dialects are as
? incomprehensible as some of ours. My own tenants.
among themselves, might as well be jabbering in Treb-
izonian for all the sense I can make of it-

"Those of our class, however, understand one an-
other very well on both sides of the Domitians," he
continued. "Constantine, naturally, appreciates that in
Westmark he will be guided by a ruling council: my-
self, General Erzcour, and some of the higher nobility."

"His Majesty will be grateful for such advisers,"
Conrad answered. "But now, Baron, I raise a point re-
garding this council. One of your compatriots was
obliged, not long ago, to seek refuge with us. His help

[291

has been invaluable. He has shared with us his inti-
mate knowledge of your governmental procedures, the
practical workings of your ministries—and other infor-
mation we have found extremely interesting. He is
presently living quietly in Regia, occupied in writing

his memoirs."

'They should be fascinating," said Montmollin. "Au-
tobiography suits him. It is the highest form of lying."

"I am sure he could be induced to put aside his lit-
erary efforts and sit as a member of your council," said
Conrad. "He offers the benefit of long experience in
statesmanship. Desirable, you would agree? Certainly,
from our point of view, the Sieur De Brussac—"

"Otherwise known as Cabbarus," Montmollin broke
in. "I was aware that our former chief minister had
chosen Regia for his exile. I did not know he had also

chosen a new name."

"He prefers it for the time being."

"Understandably. And the titie?"

"We bestowed it on him," admitted Conrad. "A small
honor compared with his great assistance to us. For one
who was nearly king of Westmark, 'Sieur' is not extrav-
agant."

"Cabbarus is unacceptable to us, whatever he calls

himself." returned Montmollin. "Under no circum-
stances will he hold a place in our council. The fellow
has less breeding than one of my dogs, and the sensi-
bilities of a hog butcher. He would be worse than a
discredit, he would be an embarrassment. A tyrant who

gives tyranny a bad name'"

Conrad shrugged. "As you wish. You see. we are not

difficult. Now, gentlemen, I propose a toast—"

[30]

The duke had only raised his glass when the door
flew open. A bright-haired, slender young man in
disheveled hunting garb clattered into the room. He
smiled at the guests, who immediately came to their
feet. The new arrival's face was still rosy from the
mountain air. While the downy beginnings of a mous-
tache had sprouted on his narrow upper lip, he had not
yet come into the full strength of his ancestral features
that looked so well on gold coins. King Constantine IX
was sixteen years old-

"I got my stag," said Constantine. "It looks like Erz-
cour got a ram," he added, noticing the splotches on
the general's face. "Congratulations. You can wash now.
You needn't go around bloody forever. Have I missed
anything?"

"Nothing of consequence," Conrad said.

Ignoring his uncle's frown, Constantine threw him-
self on a couch and stretched his legs. "We'll have our
war, then? Good. It's my first, you know. I'll be in per-
sonal command."

"I think not this time," said "Conrad. "There will be
other opportunities when you have more experience."

"How else am I to get it?"

"Majesty," said Erzcour, "it will be a short cam-
paign, little better than a field exercise."

"All the more reason," said Constantine. "No, uncle,
I'm not going to sit in Breslin Palace until it's over. I
want to see things for myself."

"We shall talk about it later," said the duke.

"One thing more," said Montmollin. "Regian troops
are to be kept firmly in hand. No needless destruction,
looting, and all the rest of it."

(371

tf,

"Soldiers loot," replied Conrad. "It is a customary

amusement."

"Even so, it must not be excessive. Your field officers

must be so instructed. It will only work to all our dis-
advantage if there is ill will between our people and

your soldiery."

"Montmollin's right," said Constantine, sitting up.

"We're not really enemies, you know."

"We understand that, Connie," the duke said impa-
tiently. "Now, gentlemen, if we have nothing further—
Ah, yes. It almost slipped my mind. That young fellow,
what's his name—the Sieur De Brussac suggested, quite
rightly, that we put him out of the way. The Sieur De
Brussac passed along a name to you, did he not, Erz-
cour? A man he recommended. You have seen to the

matter?"

"I have. Your Highness. Since I have not heard oth-
erwise, I assume the affair is settled."

Constantine, meanwhile, had climbed to his feet and
gone to the side of Montmollin. "I don't care what they
say, i think the war will be a fine thing and I won't be
put off it. As far as your queen is concerned, I can see
why you want to be rid of her. But wouldn't it be easier

if you simply had someone go and do it?"

Montmollin looked askance. "Your Majesty, we are

not barbarians."

[321

The pain in his ribs encouraged him to believe he was
still alive. Opening his eyes, he doubted it. A gaunt,
white-streaked face loomed over him. The ghostly shape
laid a finger on its !ips, turned, and disappeared. Theo
co.uld not decide whether his mind was playing tricks
or whether he had slipped into some netherworld of
phantoms, where, having been shot point-blank, he
surely belonged.               ^

He sat up cautiously. His wound-throbbed under a
heavy wrapping of bandages. Pale sunlight washed over
the plaster walls. From beyond the window he heard a
rushing, bubbling sound, and a constant clatter. Where
he was and how he got there interested him less than
setting off again as best he could. His clothing was gone,
but he noticed a pile of garments on a bench. He hauied
himself out of the cot and began awkwardly to dress.

The phantom was back, this time carrying a dish of
unmistakably real food. He beckoned to Theo, who re-
alized what had given the man his ghostly appearance
was a dusting of flour which seemed to have settled

[33]

permanently on his face, hair, and clothing. Though
flesh and blood, he kept silent as a tomb- When Theo
began to fling questions at him, the stranger only eyed
him gloomily and answered none of them.
"Impatient to be up? That's a good sign."
Florian had strolled into the room- He wore a faded
blue army greatcoat over his shoulders. His elegantly
drawn face with its scatter of pockmarks was weather-
beaten, grained with fine lines. Hatless, hair loose and
uncropped, he stood with his thumbs in his belt while
his gray eyes observed Theo's surprise with amuse-
ment.

"This is Kopple, the miller. He's a good friend," said

Florian as the gaunt man nodded briefly. "No chatter-
box, as you may have gathered, which is all to his
credit. Go on, eat your breakfast. Slowly, now. You
haven't had a solid meal this past week."
Theo stared at him. "I've been here that long?"
"You're lucky to be anywhere for any length of time."
Plorian took a packet from the table. Theo recognized
his journal. A black-rimmed hole had been drilled

through the pages.

"We found this in your jacket," Florian said. "It

stopped the bullet. Slowed it down, at any rate. That
saved your life. Half of it. For the other half"—he held
up Theo's sketchbook—"you forgot this at Mull when
you went galloping away. Luther set off after you to
give it back. He heard the shot, but he was too late to
catch whoever did it, and had enough on his hands
fishing you out of the Carla. He thought it wise to bring
you here. Some of our people around Mull helped him.
You had quite a journey—not that you took much no-
tice of it. You'll mend soon."

"Soon isn't soon enough," said Theo. "I should be
with Mickle right now. Where is this place?"

"It doesn't matter," said Florian. "You're in no state
to travel. Even if you were—"

"I'm going. I have to," Theo broke in. "Mickle's heard
nothing from me. She doesn't know what happened or
why I'm not there."

"So much the better," said Florian- "If you're wor-
ried about that, I'll try to get word to her. She'll know
you're alive, which is all she needs to know, and I'll
trust her to keep that bit of news to herself."

"Do you mean you won't let me go? I'm not a pris-
oner." Theo glanced at Florian. "Or am I?"

"Of course not. It's for your own good. Listen to me,
youngster. Someone was very eager to get rid of you."

"Believe me," said Theo, "I know that better than
anybody. It was a man called Skeit. He used to work
for Cabbarus."

"Perhaps he still does," Florian said. "He's working
for someone, I'll wager. Fellows like that aren't inter-
ested in settling their private scores. They have princi-
ples. Like the town hangman, they'only kill for a fee.
No doubt he's sure he killed you. If he finds he didn't,
he'll try again. You're safer dead for a while."

"I'm not going to stay dead the rest of my life."

"I hope not. Luther's off to find out what he can.
Something's brewing. We've known that, but we still
don't know what it is. There's a lot of different fish
being fried and I can't lay hands on any of them. Is
Master Cabbarus in it? Does he fit with Erzcour and his
friends? It may be. But how?"

"Why did you want Erzcour replaced?" Theo asked
as Florian paced the room.

[35

"Luther must have told you. The gallant general and
the aristocracy appear to be playing a deep game of
their own. Very deep. I can't fathom it."

"And I can't fathom what difference any of it makes
to you. The army, the aristocracy—why do you care
what they're up to? The more trouble for the monarchy,

the better pleased you should be."

Florian halted and looked squarely at Theo. "If I
thought it would help our cause, yes. The military and
the nobility want more power in government, I can
smell that. If they get it, they'll make my work all the
harder. That doesn't suit me. I'd be foolish to let my

enemy grow stronger."

"Then it all has to do with your advantage," Theo
replied bitterly. "It wasn't to help Mickle. Or Torrens.
Or me. Once, you told me all men were brothers. Na-
ture's law, you said. Doesn't that include us?"

"You asked much the same at Nierkeeping," Florian
said, after a long moment. "I've thought about it ever
since. You gave me a fine piece of gristle to chew on.
But what's to be done with gristle?"

"Swallow it," said Theo, "or spit it out."
"Yes," Florian said. "but I keep chewing."

"It hasn't changed your mind."

"I do what's needed." Florian's face clouded. He
added, half to himself, "Sometimes I question. I ques-
tion. And I can't answer." He smiled suddenly. "There
you see the risk in thinking too carefully. That, fortu-
nately, is not the case with Justin."
"Luther said he was with you."
"He is, but not at the moment. He should be back in

a few days. He'll be glad to see you."
1361

"Will he? He nearly got killed that day, because of
me. I wouldn't blame him if he held a grudge."

"He doesn't talk about it," said Florian. "As for what
he thinks, I don't always know his mind- Things seem
to drop into it and disappear.             ,

"My fledgling grows a strong pair of wings," Florian
went on. "I had expected him to be an eagle; he's be-
coming more an avenging angel. In any case, he has a
following who worship him like one. I count on him to
do well. He has a number of marvelous gifts. One of
them should be especially useful—or especially danger-
ous—to a great many people, and himself into the bar-
gain.

"I suppose," Fiorian said, at Theo's questioning look/
;   "you might call it charm."

^

1s    Florian had told him he was not a prisoner. Theo had
^ no cause to disbelieve it. Nevertheless, when, he re-
gained strength enough to keep his legs from going off
y in their own directions and was able to walk outdoors,

•\ he noticed that he was rarely alone. If he sunned him-

- self in the millhouse yard, or sat" by the stream that

turned the slatted wheel, Kopple always loomed close
: by; or several of Florian's people, strangers to Theo,
. would find work in the stable, granary, or wherever else
: - he wandered.

He had already decided to set out for Marianstat de-
.: spite Florian's warning. The air had lost its sharp edge,
, a pale green mist of new leaves hung over the sur-
rounding woodlands. From what bits of talk he over-
heard, he calculated the mill to be in the western reaches
; of the valley. The weather favored him, but the journey

[37]

would be too long on foot. He began passing more time
at the stables, sketchbook in hand, taking a lively inter-
est in drawing horses.

One such afternoon, Florian himself sauntered by and

stopped to observe.

"You've a good hand at that," he said, "though I'm

not sure what your courtiers and ministers will have to
say about a prince who draws pictures.

"There's another matter I've wanted to take up with
you," he added, smiling. "You're not as much a mon-
archist as you had me believe. Not according to what
you've written in your journal—what was left of it."
"That's private." Theo reddened. "You had no right—
"True. But some temptations are irresistible and thus
perhaps forgivable." Florian grinned at him. "You've
set down some disapproving views on the subject, to
put it mildly, A delicious irony, wouldn't you say, for
a lad about to marry the queen of Westmark?"

"It's not the queen of Westmark I'm going to marry,"
said Theo, "it's Mickle. And—yes, I think the whole
idea of aristocracy is wrong. The injustice of it would
be bad enough, but it simply doesn't work.

"When I was a printer's devil, i read an old book by
a man called Johannes Jacobus. He said it was only
common sense for the nobility, the townsfolk, and the
peasantry to join in one grand council where everyone
had a voice- The king would rule by their agreement.
There wouldn't be only one leader of the council, but
three. He called them consuls. No one held power at

the expense of the others."

Florian laughed and shook his head. "1 read that, too,
when I was your age. I thought the idea was marvel-

1381

ous. It only needed unselfishness and goodwill to make
it work. Poor old Jacobus. He never understood that
power is always at someone's expense; sometimes at
the expense of those who try to use it best. I soon found
out there were Hies in his magic ointment."

"He said people were good by nature," Theo replied.
"Ill treatment was what fumed some of them wicked.
Given a chance, they'd choose justice over injustice,
they'd rather be kind than cruel. It's a matter of educa-
tion."

"Do you believe that?"

"Of course. It's the way I feel, and I'm no different
from anyone eise—though I used to think so."

"Your modesty is as delightful as your innocence,"
Florian said. "Do you know what happened to Jacobus7
He was hounded from pillar to post until he died in a
garret. His book was condemned and publicly burned."

"Blame the judge, then."

"It wasn't a judge," said Florian, "but his own col-
leagues at Freyborg University. They're the ones who
burned his book, and only regretted they couldn't do
likewise to him,"

Florian broke off. One of his men was calling him,
and he left Theo searching for a good reply. Finding
none immediately at hand, Theo went back to his
sketchbook and his plan, trying to arrange his con-
science so that he could steal a friend's horse without
reckoning himself a thief.

Crossing the yard next morning, he saw Justin com-
ing out of the stable, a blanket roll over his shoulder, a
pistol in his belt. He was leaner and taiier than Theo
remembered; his fine yellow hair, long and loose in the

[39)

manner of Florian, had grown still paler, while his
complexion had weathered to a dark gold- A heavy scar
twisted from his brow to his cheek in a stark white fur-
row.

Justin's violet-colored eyes widened until they seemed
to eat up his whole face. He halted, watching intently
for a long moment. Then he broke suddenly into a boy-
ish grin and ran to grasp Theo's hand, showering him
with questions and waving aside his answers.

"I have to report to Florian," Justin said hastily- "We'll
talk later. But—but this is wonderful! After all this time!
Not since Nierkeeping!" His grin widened. "What a
glorious day that was, eh? I'll never forget it. My first
battle, a real baptism of fire. Yours, too, 1 think. We
were hard pressed, all of us." Justin lowered his voice
as if sharing a secret. "1 can tell you, I thought it was
touch and go for a time. Lucky 1 was on hand to save

you from that officer."

Justin clapped him on the shoulder and strode into
the house, leaving Theo to puzzle over his words. In
fact, at Nierkeeping, an officer of the garrison had set
upon Justin with a saber- Theo himself pulled Justin
away as the officer swung up his blade again, and had
leveled his pistol, ready to fire. In his nightmares, he
still saw Justin, his face a bloody mask, and heard his
screams to kill the man. Theo had stood frozen for no
more than a heartbeat, but it would have cost Justin's
life. It was Florian who brought down the officer with
a musket shot. The moment had haunted Theo ever
since. Whether conscience or cowardice made him hes-
itate he had never been able to decide. At the last,
Mickle helped Theo drag Justin to safety. The day had
not been glorious.

[401

Justin had somehow rearranged his memory, giving
himself a hero's role, and had spoken with such con-
viction and likable eagerness that Theo was nearly per-
suaded to believe the distorted account wholeheartedly.
He suddenly understood something of what Florian had
meant by "charm."

After a time, he went back into the millhouse where
Justin and Florian sat studying a map, too absorbed to
notice him. He was about to leave when he heard hoof-
beats clattering into the yard and excited voices.

A moment later, Luther stepped through the door-
way. He looked saddle-weary, his face grayish, his cloak
mud-caked. Kopple and two of Florian's men followed.
With a quick nod to Theo, Luther went directly to Flo-

rian.

"There's fighting in the Col. The Regians attacked
yesterday, before dawn. I was up there when it started.
By now, they'll have a couple of regiments in the val-
ley."

If Florian was taken aback.^he showed no sign. He
was thoughtful for a moment, then asked, "What do
you make of it, Luther? Are they up to some other sort
of business? They're foolish if they invade through the
passes. Erzcour could hold them off with a corporal's
guard."

"Erzcour surrendered," Luther said flatly. "He's or-
dered all Westmark units to lay down their arms. To
save lives and avoid bloodshed in hopeless battle
against vastly superior forces—that was his last order
of the day. The Regians have him prisoner."

"Why did he surrender?" Theo had been listening
in mounting dismay. "If he could have held his ground,
why didn't he?"

\41

"It's clear enough. He never intended to," Florian
said- "I warned you something was in the wind."

"There's more," said Luther. "Erzcour surrendered,
so did most of his officers. The troops didn't. They were
betrayed and they know it. So they're still fighting, as
best they can, in disobedience to orders. Call it a mu-
tiny, if you like. In any case, it's a hornet's nest up

there."

"Bravo, the mutineers!" Florian jumped from the

bench and dapped his hands. "That's something our

gallant general didn't reckon on."

Luther shook his head. "The Regians are giving them
a bad mauling. They've had to fall back, they can't get
themselves in any kind of order. One company tried to
make a stand. They were cut to ribbons."

"Florian," Theo broke in, "I can't wait- 1 have to get

to Marianstat."

"No way you'll get through," said Luther, "not as

things are going now. The valley's crawling with Reg-
ians, don't you understand that?"

"Luther is right." Florian added. "You have to put
up with us awhile yet." He gave Theo a wry grin. "As
for what you've had in mind these past days, it's no
use making off with one of our horses. Or were you

thinking of taking two?"

"Would you have stopped me?" demanded Theo,
abashed that Horian had so easily guessed his secret

plan.

"Not then," said Horian. "But I would now. If Skeit

doesn't shoot you, the Regians no doubt will."

"What are you going to do?"
"Do? Why, youngster, 1 don't see that I'm expected

[42|

to do anything. I'm sorry. It's a bloody piece of busi-
ness, but it's between Westmark and Regia. I have no
part in it. You forget we're a band of desperate out-
laws."

"That's not true," retorted Theo. "King Augustine
pardoned you."

"Yes," Florian said, smiling, "but I didn't pardon
him."

"You wanted to help us before." Theo pressed on. "I
don't care what your reasons were. There must be
something your people can do now."

"I was willing to give you fair warning," answered
Horian. "For my own advantage, as you quickly pointed
out. That was one thing. It cost me nothing. Are you
asking me to put my people into the field? As what?
Irregular troops? Partisans? That's something different,
much more expensive. I'm surprised that you, of all
people, should ask it."

"I'm willing," put in Justin. "I can have men and
mounts here before the week's out. Do it, Florian. It
would be a marvelous chance,1'better than Nierkeeping.
Think how much we could leam From it."

"A costly school." Florian said nothing for a while,
pacing the room. He turned to Luther. "What do you
think?"

"Fight as irregulars? This comes on us too soon. I'm
not sure we're ready."

"Not as ready as I'd like." said Horian. "But Justin
has a point. This could be the moment to test our hand.
if the army's in disarray, some will join us. A good
many, as it might be. We'd come out of it stronger than
before."

[43

"Or cut to pieces," Luther said. "And yet—it's a

chance too good to miss."

"One thing more." Florian looked sharply at Theo.
"It's time you had your first lesson in statecraft, my
Prince: Give nothing for nothing. If we do this, we shall

want something in return.

"A piece of paper," Florian went on. "I want our
freedom spelled out in laws. I want the equality of every
man and woman in Westmark; they shall be equal be-
fore the law, and the law shall be equal before them.
The only privilege I accept is the privilege—no, the
right—of making a decent life for ourselves. In short, a
constitution. I'll not ask my people to die for anything

less."

"I'd give you that without your asking," said Theo.

"It isn't up to me. I can't speak for Mickle or Dr. Tor-

rens."

"No, but you can speak for us. I want your word

that, come what may, you'll support our cause. Against
the aristocracy. Against the monarchy. If need be,
against the queen herself. Do I have your promise?"

Florian's gray eyes looked at him steadily. Theo felt
Justin and Luther watching him, too. Finally, he nod-
ded. "Yes. You have it."

"Luther, your work is cut out for you," said Florian.
"I want Zara here. And Stock. It seems that I'll need all

of my children."

[44]

^ 5 2^

That same morning, a high-wheeled coach rattled over
the wooden bridge spanning the Alma, where the river
swung north to flow into the larger waters of the Carla.
The driver, stubby-legged, a huge cocked hat on the
back of his head, a clay pipe between his teeth, coaxed
the gray mare to step out briskly, as he hoped to cover
the leagues between Carlsbruch and Mull before night-
fall. His passengers were a young gentleman from
Napolita, Signer Michelo, and his tutor. Professor Lorn-
basso.

Count Las Bombas had first considered posing as a
traveling journalist, but finally decided on a more re-
spectable occupation. "This should go down splendidly
with the provincials," he told Mickle. "As sightseers, it
will be quite natural for us to nose around as much as
we please, hear local gossip, inquire about odd hap-
penings—it's part of your education. Besides, tourists
who spend money are always welcome."

Mickle's ragamuffin garb had let her slip unremarked
through the alleys of Marianstat and join the waiting

|45|

count. Las Bombas, meanwhile, had acquired garments
in keeping with their new roles: for Mickle, clothing of
quality befitting a serious young student of good fam-
ily; for himself, somber professorial robes and a pair of
spectacles. He took pains to blotch his fingers with ink
and arrange some egg stains on his shirt front, explain-
ing that a measure of scruffiness would enhance his
scholarly appearance.

As the count predicted, they were cordially received
everywhere. After leaving Marianstat, they stopped
briefly at posthouses and inns along the valley road.
Without seeming to press for information, they pieced
together a fair account of Theo's movements. Mickle was
thus able to reason that he was probably in Mull when
he heard the news of her father's death. If/ in fact, he
had started back then, he had disappeared somewhere
between there and Carlsbruch. Queen Caroline was
wrong. He had not dropped out of sight on purpose.
While it relieved her mind to that extent, it increased
her fear that he had met with some accident. She was
all the more anxious to reach her destination and ques-
tion the innkeeper.

"Musket will have us there for supper," the count
assured her, "if we don't get too badly caught in a
thunderstorm. One seems to be on the way."

Mickle, too, had grown aware of distant rumbling,
although the sky above them was cloudless. In the di-
rection of Mull hung a gray smudge that quickly dark-
ened, streaking upward to drift over the eastern reaches
of the Carla.

Musket, soon after, reined up and halted in the mid-
die of the road. The count put his head out the win-
dow, impatient to learn the cause of the delay. Uni-

[46}

formed figures, some on foot, some on horseback, were
rapidly bearing down on them.

'The local garrison on field exercises," explained
Las Bombas. "Badly turned out, I must say. Someone
should mention it to their commanding officer. We'll
have to let them by."

Mickle had climbed out of the coach to see for her-
self. Soldiers they were, but in no military formation.
Before she knew what was happening, she found her-
self amid a tide of grimy faces and Jostling bodies. Most
carried muskets slung over their shoulders, but a num-
ber were weaponless. A few disheveled cavalrymen
tried to force their fathered mounts through the press
of troops and baggage carts.

Las Bombas hurried to join Mickle. One of the sol-
diers had seized Friska's reins and was trying to head
the mare and coach in the opposite direction.

"What's all this?" cried Las Bombas. "Disgraceful!
Form ranks, there' Where's your officer?"

The soldiers within earshot burst into guffaws. A
sergeant with a bloody rag tfed about his head shoul-
dered his way to the coach. "Get back wherever you
came from. The Regians are in Mull."

With half a dozen others shouting at the same time,
it took Mickle a few moments to understand what had
happened. Las Bombas, too, finally realized that the
Regians had not only captured the town but were, as
well, already sweeping through the valley.

"Do what the fellow says," he cried, seizing Mickle's
arm. "Get clear of this mess, the faster the better- I can't
make heads or tails of why it started, but that's the least
of our worries. Once you're in Marianstat—"

"The war's here, it isn't in Marianstat," declared

(47]

Mickle. "I'm staying. They're my soldiers, aren't they?'

"They're nobody's at this point. Call them soldiers?
Great heavens, girl, I've seen better-organized mobs.
It's every man for himself here. They don't even have a
commanding officer."

"They do now."

Mickle pulled away from the count, flung off her hat
and jacket, and clambered to the roof of the coach. She
put her fingers between her teeth and blew an ear-
shattering whistle. This, coming from what was unmis-
takably a girl looking down coolly at them, brought most
of the troops up short.

The count, seeing no way to stop her, tried to make
the best of it. He climbed to the box beside Musket and
bawled at the top of his voice, "Attention! Present arms!
That's the queen of Westmark!"

His military outburst brought more guffaws and a se-
lection of barrack-room comments.

One trooper shouted up: "Queen, are you, missy? If
you're a queen, where's your crown?"

Mickie, seeing he wore a hussar's uniform, grinned
at him. "If you're a cavalryman, where's your horse?"

The soldiers, at this, whooped and cheered her, turn-
ing the Joke on their comrade. Meantime, a bedraggled,
hatless figure in an officer's tunic pushed through the

crowd.

"Your Majesty'" he cried, saluting. "Beg to report:

Captain Witz at your orders'"

The count stared at the officer, a sandy-haired young
man whose enormous cavalry-style moustache looked
as disarrayed as its owner. "You! Pipsqueak! You're the
idiot who tried to arrest us after that business at Nier-
keeping!"

148]

"Beg to report, sir, that is correct," the officer replied.
"1 had no idea then that you were with Queen Au-
gusta—princess, as she was at the time. But I recognize
her now, sir, no question about it."

The sergeant who had tried to turn the coach had
been studying Mickle in growing amazement. He turned
to the milling soldiers and roared, "Get back in ranks,
you sorry lot of imbeciles' The captain's right. 1 saw her
when I was in the palace guard. It's the new queen,
true as she stands there."

Mickle could not be certain of all that happened af-
terward; nor could the troopers themselves, when they
boasted of it to those who came later. By the time other
stragglers arrived, they had already named themselves
the Oid Guard. The queen, they decided, belonged first
and foremost to them; no one else had quite the same
right to claim her.

"You should have seen it," said one of them. "A chit
of a girl, jawing back and forth with us, cheeky as a
bantam rooster. She's got a tongue in her head, too.
Better than a mule driver."   ^

Another added, "The Beggar Queen, some call her.
Well, I say we could have used more beggars like her
in the Col."

At the moment, Mickle was unaware of any of this.
Someone, seeing her shivering, had put a cavalry cloak
around her shoulders.

When at last she climbed down, the soldiers would
have kept on cheering and crowding around her had
not Las Bombas pulled her into the relative quiet in-
side the coach. She beckoned for the sergeant and
Witz to join her.

The sergeant she promoted to captain on the spot,

(49]

telling him to choose his own under-officers and to put
his men into some kind of order.

"You'll be my military adviser," she said to Las Bom-
bas as the former sergeant clambered out. "You should
know about these things. Didn't Theo tell me you were
in the Salamanca Lancers?"

"Ah—yes, well, that was some time ago," replied the
count. "They do things differently these days. But if
you want my advice, it's exactly what it was before: Get
out in a hurry."

"Beg to report," put in Witz, "I concur with His Ex-
cellency. We can't hold against the Regians, not in the
state we're in. The disorganization, not to mention the
total disregard of military regulations, is shocking. We
must have time to regroup, and Your Majesty can be
assured the Regians won't give it to us."

"If they won't give it to us, we'll have to take it,"
said Mickle. "Now, Captain Witz—"

"Your Majesty," broke in Witz, reddening, "in the
press of circumstances, I forgot myself. I'm no longer
entitled to that rank. When my commanding officer
surrendered, he ordered me to do the same. I—I dis-
obeyed. It was the first time in my career that I refused
to carry out an order. By regulation, I should be de-
moted, even shot.

"But, Your Majesty, really it is too bad," he blurted
out, almost in tears. "We could have stood our ground.
There was no reason to surrender. With all due respect
for my superiors, beg to report, they're despicable cow-
ards. But the regulations are quite clear. I was guilty of
insubordination, dereliction of duty. and conduct un-
becoming an officer."

"Good for you," said Mickle. "Very well, you're not

[50}

a captain. You're now a colonel, on my personal staff—
as soon as I have one, that is."

"But it's out of the question," Witz protested in mo-
rose eamestness. "An officer cannot be promoted with-
out approval of his commanding general—that would
be General Erzcour, and he's a prisoner."

"I've just changed the regulations," Mickle said.
"You're a colonel and I order you to start behaving like
one."

Witz gaped at her, dumbstruck that anyone, even the
queen of Westmark, would dare take such a high hand
with military regulations. He blushed like a boy, his
moustache trembled in admiration.

Military regulations required his loyalty and obedi-
ence to his sovereign; they did not require him to fall
in love with her.

But he did, then and there, without officially recog-
nizing it; and he was to remain so for the rest of his
life.

During the next half hour, Mickle promoted another
dozen of the most likely troopers and set them in com-
mand of newly formed companies. She charged Musket
with collecting what provisions her tattered army had
brought and rationing them out fairly among all the de-
tachments. Still wrapped in her cavalry cloak, Witz trot-
ting at her heefs, she made her way among the soldiers,
inspecting weapons, questioning, joking, until Las
Bombas pleaded with her to set off without further de-
lay. To his great relief, she finally agreed- Musket pro-
duced a dented bugle from the count's paraphernalia
and blared out the signal to retreat.

Colonel Witz had managed to collect a creased and

157

dog-eared map. Mickle pored over it while the coach
led the way back toward Carlsbruch. If they could reach
there in time, Witz ventured, they stood some chance
of holding it; perhaps long enough for some of the
nearby garrisons to join them.

"What about the bridge?" Mickle asked. "The one we
crossed this morning, What if we tear it down? Or bum
it before the Regians get there? That should stop them
for a while."

"I have already considered that." said Witz, who had
begun scribbling numbers on a scrap of paper. "From
a tactical viewpoint, it would be highly desirable."

"This fellow's a military maniac," Las Bombas mut-
tered. "We're trying to save our necks; he's doing arith-
metic."

"Beg to report," said Witz, after several moments,
"I've estimated the rate of march, applying the factor of
how long it takes one infantryman to pass a given point,
the distance between ourselves and the Regian advance
column—"

"Next you'll be throwing in laundry lists and phases
of the moon!" cried Las Bombas. "To the point, man!"

"It's only routine staff work," replied Witz, looking
wounded, "but it must be done, sir. It's part of my du-
ties. Ah—now, according to my calculations, it might
Just be possible to cross the bridge and destroy it be-
fore the Regians overtake us. However, beg to report,
several infantry companies will have to remain on the
far side. There's no time—"

"Abandon them?" demanded Mickle. "We can't.
They'll be killed."

"Presumably." Witz Jotted down another row of fig-

[52]

ures. "At an expected casualty rate of—yes, here we
have it, the loss would be nearly total; but, under the
circumstances, quite acceptable."

"Not acceptable," returned Mickle. "You find some
better numbers. Colonel. I want all my people across
that bridge."

Scratching his head and chewing at his moustache,
Witz returned to his calculations. He was still in the
midst of them when Musket urged Friska over the
bridge. Mickle pounded on the coach roof, signaling
the dwarf to halt. Before Musket reined up, she had
already flung open the door and jumped out. Las Bom-
bas shouted for her to come back and press on to Carls-
bruch.

"Witz will take charge. This is his business, not
yours."

"I'll go when the bridge is down," Mickle called over
her shoulder, "and not before."

She ran to the head of the bridge. Las Bombas fum-
ing and protesting behind her. By the time she reached
the middle of the span, the first horsemen had begun
galloping across. Seeing Mickle, they burst into cheers
and one, dismounting, hoisted her into his saddle. Sev-
eral of the hussars turned their steeds and rode to her
side, taking it on themselves to form the queen's body-
guard, which they continued to be during all the days
that followed.

Witz, despairing of his calculations, finally threw his
papers into the air and set about doing what he had
mathematically proved impossible. As new detach-
ments arrived, he began issuing a spate of orders,
sending back gallopers with messages to the rearward

(53

companies. As soon as the leading column of foot sol-
diers appeared, they were set to work hastily gathering
twigs and branches and piling them along both sides
of the bridge.

Musket had commandeered a saber nearly as long as
himself. Brandishing this weapon, he leaped to the
wooden railing and scuttled back and forth like a rope
dancer, bellowing for the men to hurry. More than the
Regians at their heels, the sight of Musket and his gi-
gantic blade spurred them along faster still.

Even Las Bombas, who had never ceased warning
Mickle to make all haste for Carlsbruch, threw himself
into the work of gathering wood for kindling. His aca-
demic robes were begrimed, his plump cheeks flushed
and sweat-streaked with his unaccustomed effort.

Witz appeared everywhere at once As the main body
of troops streamed across the bridge, he posted a mus-
ket company along the riverbank and another at the
bridgehead. "Beg to report," he cried, jubilant, "I think
we might pull it off!" Then he dashed away again,
shouting for the men who had already crossed to make
room for their comrades now racing over the span.

Soon, however, Mickle heard the crackle of musketry
from the woodlands on the far side of the Alma- The
Regians had caught up with the end of the column and
were harassing it sharply. By the time the rear guard
came to the bridge, their attackers were already upon
them. The companies Witz had stationed at the river-
side began firing at the gray green lines of Regian in-
fantry, forcing them to keep their distance and allow
the last of Mickle's troops to disengage and retreat across
the Alma.

[54]

Witz, meantime, had readied two of the baggage carts
and loaded each with kegs of gunpowder. These he or-
dered run out and left in the middle of the bridge.
Musket, still perched on the railing, had taken com-
mand of a dozen men with torches.

As what seemed the last of the stragglers sped over
the bridge, Mickle's shout of triumph turned to a gasp
of dismay. The Regians/ seeing they could no longer
keep all their prey from escaping, turned their mus-
ketry on the remnants of a company that had stood their
ground to cover their comrades' retreat. The hail of bul-
lets from the Regian line drove these hapless troops
away from the bridgehead to the far bank. There, the
Regians poured volley after volley. Seeing themselves
trapped beyond hope of rescue, some of the Westmark
troops flung up their hands in surrender, only to be
shot down at the river's edge. Others stripped off their
knapsacks and were killed as they plunged into the
Alma. The current caught the bodies and sent them
spinning against the pilings of the bridge, where the
water had taken on a pinkish hue..

Mickle broke away from her bodyguard. Dismount-
ing, she ran to Las Bombas and threw herself on him,
sobbing like a child. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

The count held her a moment/ then with deliberate
roughness shook her by the shoulders. "You wanted to
be a field commander? Be one' You'll see worse before
you've done. This time you've come off cheaply."

Mickle, shocked out of her tears, tore herself from the
count and ran to the bridge- Shouts of alarm had risen
from the troops there. Musket and the torchbearers,
setting the brushwood alight, had run to safety as the

[551

whole structure seemed to burst into flame. But the fire
had only flared, then sank before spreading to the pow-
der kegs. The Regians, withdrawing from what had ap-
peared an impassable blaze but was now burning too
slowly, saw the chance to carry the bridge by storm.

Witz, instantly realizing what had happened/
snatched a torch and sprinted toward the nearest cart
while musket bails from the far bank whistled around
him. He sped on to fling his torch into the cart, leaped
through the flaming brushwood, and vaulted the rail-
ing to plunge headlong into the Alma.

Behind him, the cart exploded in a burst of splinters
and a shower of sparks; an instant later, the second cart
blew apart- The bridge trembled and lurched sideways
into the water.

Mickle scrambled down to the riverbank among her
infantry. There was no sign of Witz. In another mo-
ment, she glimpsed his head bob up from the current.
Ignoring the bullets smacking into the water on all sides
of him, he calmly and methodically was swimming for
shore. A dozen hands reached to pull him out.

Hair plastered against his head, moustache dripping
and tangled with weeds, he shook himself like a water
spaniel. Sighting Mickle, he brought himself to sop-
ping attention.

"Your Majesty," cried Witz, as if his pronouncement
alone could make it official, "beg to report: The bridge
is down!"

56

Zara and Stock were the first arrivals. The onetime
dressmaker, "the russet divinity" as Florian fondly
called her, had cropped her heavy auburn hair and
dressed herself in the coarse clothing of a farm laborer.
She gave Theo only a brief greeting and a quick, ap-
praising glance of her green eyes, then went to find
Florian.

The burly poet, lingering to unsaddle their horses,
pumped Theo's hand. "There's great news! I could
hardly wait to tell you "

Stock was so flushed with excitement Theo could only
suppose the war had suddenly ended. Stock, however,
brushed aside any questions before Theo could ask
them, threw back his massive head, thrust a hand in
the breast of his jacket, and declaimed: "I have the
honor and pleasure to announce I have ceased to be an
unpublished poet. The children of my fancy have at last
emerged from the shadows into the daylight of print."

Theo, as delighted as the poet himself, demanded
when it had happened and who had brought them out-

57]

Stock pursed his Ups and tugged at the sparse fringe
above his brow. The poet was only a few years older
than Theo, but had already begun balding; a sore point,
since Stock perceived a mystical bond between poetry
and hair, and found himself in the contradictory posi-
tion of being abundant in one and scant in the other.

"Ah—the publisher is myself," replied Stock. "That
is to say. The Westmark Phoenix, the press you built
for us in Freyborg. Zara turned out to be quite clever
with it. She set up the type. I did the heavy work."

"So you finally learned to run the press? Congratula-
tions again."

"1 mean that I corrected the proofs." Stock drew out
a small volume and pressed it into Theo's hands. "Here,
1 signed this one for you. No need to read the whole
thing right away. Unless, of course, you want to."

Theo glanced at the first few pages. "Why, Stock,
these are very fine."

"Not fine! Superb! This one—let me show you. And
this—"

From what Theo gathered, whife Stock riffled through
the slender book, it was a collection of love poems.
When he ventured to ask the object of the author's af-
fections/ the poet made an expansive gesture.

"The Muse herself, my boy. None other! None more
worthy' Though inconstant on occasion she may be, I
make her the humble offering of my total devotion. Your
true poet needs no flesh-and-blood model, if anything,
it distracts. But speaking of devotion, a small surprise
is on the way."

Zara was beckoning from the millhouse. Stock broke
off and went to join her. Within the hour, Theo learned

155

what the poet had meant. A cart rolled into the yard,
and he recognized the driver as Jellinek, the keeper of
the Freyborg tavern, stout, red-faced, good-natured as
ever, and beside him/ a fair-haired girl with a milky
complexion: Rina, the golden divinity.

"Luther told me what was afoot," said Jetlinek, as
Florian came out to see the unexpected arriv.-'s. "I here-
with offer my services. You can't fight a war on an
empty stomach- You'll need a provisioner, a commis-
sary. I don't promise miracles, but I'll see that none of
you starve."

"You mean you've come to poison us all as you did
in Freyborg," returned Florian, laughing and clapping
the innkeeper on the back. "We survived your cooking
then, I've no doubt we'll live through it now. To work
with you, old friend. Kopple will show you our stores,
such as they are."

Florian was less delighted at the presence of Rina. "I
counted on you staying in Freyborg. We must have
someone there to keep an eye on things."

"There's plenty of others," Rina protested. "I can do
as well as anyone here."

"The best you can do is rum around and go home,"
said Florian. "If you're needed, I promise to send for
you."

The girl's blue eyes were not on Florian, but on Jus-
tin, who had come out of the miilhouse. In Freyborg,
Theo recalled, both Zara and Rina had been cleariy in
love with Florian. Zara, he sensed, had not changed her
feelings, which he guessed to be as sharp and fierce as
they had been. Now, however, Rina, the dreamily sen-
timental laundress, watched only Justin.

[59]

"Let her stay," Justin urged, not unaware of Rina's
gaze. "She can be with my people. She won't be the
only woman, there should be half a dozen others."

"She'll have saddle sores the first hour," put in Zara.
"Rina, you've no business here, you'll only be under-
foot."

Before any squabble broke out, Florian raised his
hand. "On further consideration, it occurs to me that
our golden divinity may be useful. Her profession could
prove an advantage."

"I'm not scrubbing clothes," Rina declared- "I didn't
come for that."

"Laundry it may be, but not what you suppose," Flo-
rian said. He motioned for them to follow him inside,
adding to Theo, "You should sit in our council of war,
too. We won't bar a future prince. You'll get your wish,
by the way. Luther should be with us by the end of the
week. We'll know better how things stand, and we'll
get you to Marianstat one way or another. You can ex-
plain to your queen what we intend to do."

Relieved at learning he would soon be on his way,
Theo found a place beside Stock at the table. Florian
called them to silence. In a light, almost bantering tone,
he welcomed his children, and for a moment Theo had
the impression Florian had invited them only to take
part in some complex but amusing game. Quickiy,
however, his manner turned more serious. His gray eyes
studied each face as he spoke quietly of their plans. It
was not a Florian that Theo had seen before, even at
Nierkeeping. There was a new and different air of au-
thority about him that gripped each listener. If Florian
had ever questioned or doubted himself, as he had ad-

{60}

mitted to Theo, he showed no sign of it. Even Stock,
notorious for his constant and exuberant interruptions,
kept silent.

As Theo expected, Florian was to be commander-in-
chief, with Zara his second-in-command. They, with
Jellinek, would leave the mill and travel west in the di-
rection of Belvitsa, where Florian would make his head-
quarters, putting himself in touch with his own people
and the Westmark detachments in that region.

"Luther is on his way back from there," said Florian.
"He should bring good news. With luck, we'll be more
than irregulars; we may have a whole army of our own.

"Luther will be our eyes and ears," Florian went on.
"We've already agreed that he's to keep us abreast of
one another's doings. You'll very likely see more of him
than of me; but his orders are to be followed as if they
were mine."

This last was directed to Justin, who was to lead his
troop into the Domitians, on the south bank of the
Carla. "The Regians will be advancing," said Florian.
"Let them. The farther they go, the more their supply
lines will stretch thin. Attack them, harry them, nip
their Hanks, give them no rest- You're to fight no pitched
battles, though. If you do, they'll cut you to pieces.
You're a wolf pack, not a regiment of dragoons-"

Justin nodded agreement, though he appeared dis-
appointed. Florian named Stock as Justin's second-in-
command, then turned his attention to Rina.

"The weapons of our golden divinity will be soap and
washboard. But in a special way. She will offer to work
for the Regians, in the occupied villages nearest to
where Justin is operating. She must watch and listen,

167

and leam all she can of our enemy's plans and strength.
Who would think of distrusting a laundress, above all
such a charming one? I count on her cleverness to find
means of sending out word."

Rina beamed and blushed, enchanted to be useful to
justin. Having finished his business and promising to
speak again later with each of them, Fiorian ended the
council. "Now," he declared, "I trust jellinek is putting
up a farewell feast. Next time we are all together, it will
be a victory banquet."

Stock jumped to his feet. "What about our names?
We must each have a nom de guerre."

"There speaks the romantic poet," said Fiorian. "Call
yourself what you please, my valiant versifier, as long
as you do your work- For the rest of us—"

"Stock, for once, might have a sensible idea," put in
Zara. "It might be wiser if our real names weren't
known."

Fiorian thought for a moment. "There's something to
be said for it, at that. Very well, I leave the choice to
our poet."

'To begin," said Stock, "I offer Fiorian the noblest of
falcons: Peregrine." He bowed to Zara. "And to our
russet divinity, the dauntless dragon: Firedrake.

"For Luther, what more fitting than the bird of wis-
dom and bearer of tidings to the gods themselves?
Raven.

"Our laundress can surely be nothing but Lapwing,
the bird that feigns injury to mislead its enemies.

"To Justin, I propose the fierce butcher-bird: Shrike.
And for myself, I claim the legendary creature that rises
from its own ashes—and which also happens to be the

|62|

ensign under which my poems are available to an eager
public: Phoenix."

Stock, having gone red in the face as a consequence
of his oration, sat down looking vastly pleased with
himself- His companions cheered and clapped their
hands, reminding Theo more of their boisterous gath-
erings in Jellinek's tavern than a solemn council of war.
He also felt left out, as he did in those days when he
longed to be called one of Florian's children. Now,
though he told himself it was foolish, he admitted he
would have been better pleased if Stock had included
him. He insisted it made no difference.

He could not deny that it did.

He saw little of Fiorian during the next few days. Lu-
ther still had not come back. Given no duties, Theo
consoled himself with his sketches, gaining the admi-
ration of Stock, who came from time to time to look
over his shoulder. Although the poet gave pride of place
to his own muse, judging all others beneath her, he
granted Theo a certain talent; Theo's praise of his
poems, in addition, did not make Stock unkindly dis-
posed toward a fellow artist.

Justin, promising a dozen men and mounts, proved
better than his word. Before the week was out, nearly
twice the number had arrived at Kopple's mill. Jellinek
was hard pressed to feed them all, and Kopple unable
to shelter so many. The newcomers made camp in the
fringe of woods near the stream.

Some Theo recognized as former students from Frey-
borg; others were hardly more than boys who, clearly,
had never handled a firearm in their lives. All were de-

163 |

voted to Justin. Theo could read it in their faces as Jus-
tin, who spent most of his time in the camp, walked
among them, calling each by name, showing one how
to load a musket, another how to attack with a saber.
He brightened at each new arrival; as his troop in-
creased, including three or Four young women, he grew
almost radiant. Theo tried to sketch him, without suc-
cess.

"You're seeing him as our old friend Justin," de-
clared Stock- "You'U never catch him that way. You must
see him now as something quite different, say a young
Jove—if you can imagine Jove ever being young, but
you take my meaning. Or perhaps Phoebus Apollo
would be closer to it."

Although Stock had been named second-in-com-
mand, Justin relied more often on one of the older men
of his company, a lanky trooper with a wide, snaggle-
toothed grin in a face covered with a stubble of beard.
His long arms and sloping shoulders had won him the
affectionate nickname of the Monkey, which he took
good-naturedly and with a measure of pride. As nim-
ble and shrewd as his namesake, with a store of jokes
and comical songs, the Monkey had become the com-
pany favorite. By wordless agreement, he undertook the
training of the new arrivals, with a combination of
browbeating and cajolery, half clown, half drillmaster.

Nothing was beyond the Monkey's skill. He could
mend harness leathers, take apart a musket, sew as well
as a seamstress, and cook better than Jellinek. At saber
practice, which he organized to keep his comrades oc-
cupied, he was a strong opponent.

During one such exercise, when for once he was get-

[641

'^ing the worst of it, he gave ground, stumbled, and

•dropped the point of his blade. His young adversary,
afraid the Monkey had hurt himself, drew back and
lowered his guard. The Monkey scuttled forward,
swinging his blade up in a backhanded stroke.

The trooper was suddenly asprawl on the turf, with
the Monkey's boot on his saber arm and the Monkey's
point at his throat. Chuckling, the Monkey helped the
bewildered boy to his feet.

"A dirty trick," said Stock. "He didn't leam that in a
fencing academy. That fellow's done some soldiering.
Cavalry, I'd guess, from that pigeon-toed walk of his."

"What's a regular doing here?" asked Theo.

The poet shrugged. "Who cares? He's a gem. Justin's
lucky to have him."

With Florian and Zara caught up in their own prep-
arations, and Luther still absent, Theo spent more of
his time in the camp. If Justin's company had any in-
kling who he was, it made no difference to them. Jus-
tin, too, welcomed Theo and was delighted for him to
see how they had improved. They would be ready to
leave by the next day.

• "Marvelous, aren't they?" he said to Theo. "I'd trust
any one of them with my life. The best part is that
they're here because they want to be. They're not con-
scripts in some royal army, being flogged into battle.
They'll fight for what they believe in: for justice, broth-
erhood, a decent life. That's your true nobility: the peo-
ple, not your perfumed aristocrats."

"A company of knights and paladins!" cried Stock.
"I'll compose an epic for you."

"Don't joke about it. Stock," returned Justin. He

(651

looked at Theo. "You believe in the same things. Flo-
rian knows that; so do I. But 1 understand why you'd
rather be in Marianstat. None of us thinks any the less
of you for it- You'll heip us in your own way. You're
quite right/ you'll be safer there."

"I never said anything about my safety." Theo red-
dened. Justin had spoken without malice, but his words
had stung.

"I don't mean that I hold it against you," Justin went
on. "We can only do our best, whatever it may be. Your
work is very likely as important as ours. and suits you
better- I can't say I envy you. I'd find court life despi-
cable- But that's the difference between us, isn't it?"

Justin put out his hand. "I'll say farewell to you now,
in case I don't see you tomorrow. We'll be leaving
early."

"Farewell—" The idea had been in his mind for days.
Until now, he had put it aside with a dozen reasons
why it was out of the question. His reasons suddenly
iost their force. As a printer's devil, he had lived out
his life through books- Yet part of him had been un-
satisfied and restless; that part had been larger than he
had imagined. He had taken up with Las Bombas for
the adventure of it, he could not deny that. The count's
purposes had been rather less than noble, and Theo had
quit him. Florian's cause was not only noble, but one
Theo believed in and longed to be a part of.

All that held him back was his love for Mickle. Many
of Jusrin's people had left their sweethearts, loving them
no less. That he should turn from doing as much struck
him as selfish, even contemptible. Mickle did not need
him as much as he needed her. He had not proved

[66|

himself as his own man, and if he went to her now he
would never know if he was worthy of her.

Justin had turned away. Theo called after him.
"Wait—suppose I wanted to go with you?"

Justin smiled and shook his head. "I'm surprised you
ask. it's hardly your kind of work." His violet eyes nar-
rowed as he studied Theo for a long moment. His scar
seemed to darken and move with a life of its own. "You
should know that by now. Especially after Nierkeep-
ing."

Theo felt as if he had been struck. Justin suddenly
broke into his boyish grin. "It's not that I wouldn't be
glad to have you along. I just don't see what help you'd
be."

"Theo's clever with a pencil," Stock put in. "He could
turn his hand to mapmaking. And a few lessons from
the admirable Monkey should make him a scout for us.
There's plenty for him to do."

"That might well be," said Justin. "Yes, Stock, I'd be
glad for extra hands. It's up to Florian, though. He's the
one to decide."

"He's your commander, not mine," said Theo. "My
decisions are my own."

He left the camp and went back to the house. Florian,
too busy to give him more than a moment's hearing,
dismissed the idea out of hand. "I want you in Marian-
stat. I won't have you risking your neck in what doesn't
concern you."

Still hoping he could change Florian's mind, Theo re-
solved to talk with him again. When Stock saw the
frown on Theo's face, the poet easily guessed what had
happened.

[67|

"I'm sorry," said Stock- "If I had my way, you'd be
with us. Justin feels the same. But I'm afraid it's too
late, in any case. Justin's decided not to wait until to-
morrow. We're to pack up and leave now. Some of his
people have already started; they'll set Rina on her way-
The rest of us had better stir ourselves. Otherwise, our
young Apollo will be highly displeased."

Florian and Zara came to take only brief leave of Jus-
tin and his company and returned to their own work.
The camp was suddenly empty, with hardly a sign it
had ever been occupied. Theo did not go back to the
house, but stayed alone even after -the last of the riders
had disappeared.

When, finally, he turned away, he heard a rustling
through the undergrowth. The Monkey had ridden up,
leading one of the remounts-

The Monkey gestured at the empty-saddled horse.
"From the captain. He said to tell you he'd never keep
anyone from a second chance- He said you'd know."

"Does he mean—?"

The Monkey gave him a lopsided wink. "That's all.
She's a good beast. What you do—well, that's your
business, isn't it?"

Theo glanced back toward the house. The sketchbook
and remains of his journal were there. The Monkey had |^
already turned his mount and started through the  ;

woods. Theo called after him to wait. The Monkey did   ,„
not halt.                                              ;

Theo ran to the mare and swung into the saddle,     t

^£ PART II 3^

THE MONKEY

[68}

^e 7 ^

Weasel sat cross-legged on the nm of the fountain. He
was usually delighted to spend afternoons in Great Au-
gustine Square observing the passing crowd. At the
moment, however, he was in a reflective, philosophical
frame of mind.

"Sparrow," he said, "I've been wondering."
The girl beside him kicked her bare heels against the
stones. Like her younger brother, she wore a shapeless
garment of sacking. Her legs we;-e long and spindly,
her knees like a pair of clenched fists. She did not an-
swer, her attention engaged by a street accident be-
tween a coach and a peddler's cart. Seeing no fatalities
or noteworthy inJuries, she finally lost interest and
turned her pointed, foxy face to Weasel, giving him the

','   superior, indulgent look of one too knowledgeable to
wonder about anything.
Weasel pursued his speculation. "What do you want

^   to be when you grow up?"

^    "I'm grown up now."

"Are not," said Weasel. "You hardly got your bo-
soms."

l7I|

Sparrow tossed her head. "That's all you know."

"I know what i want to be." Weasel hesitated, bash-
ful at revealing his life's goal even to his sister. His
dream, nevertheless, was too grand to keep to himself.
His eyes fixed on some distant, invisible star, his voice
was hushed by the awesomeness of his ambition. "If I
worked hard, Sparrow, if I truly studied at it, I know I
could do it. I could be a thief."

"You?" Sparrow snorted. That Weasel should fancy
himself worthy of entering the exalted company of
thieves was overweening pride that required correc-
tion. She considered smacking him. Instead, she ex-
pressed her doubt by a loud blast through her pursed
lips.

"I'm better than you think," retorted Weasel, indig-
nant at having exposed his golden secret to sisterly
scorn. "You don't know it. but I've been practicing. I'll
be a fine thief."

"Begging's the trade for you," said Sparrow in a
practical tone, hoping to make him see reason. "You'd
do well at it, especially if you don't grow any more."

Weasel pushed out his lower lip. He looked on the
verge of tears. Sparrow, fearing she might have been a
little harsh, tried to console him. "You'd like it, once
you learned. I'm not saying you'd match the cripples
and peg legs—though there's always hope for you. But
you could manage with sores and scabs. Really, it;s al-
most as good as thieving."

"No." Weasel puffed out his chest; the inflation made
no visible difference to his birdcage of ribs. "I'm clever
enough to be a thief right now. Even a pickpocket."

This added audacity made Sparrow gasp. Within the

high calling of thievery, she revered pickpockets as the
uppermost nobility.

"You watch." Weasel unfolded himself and slid from
his perch. He strode toward the accident, where the
carter and the coachman still argued. The prosperous-
looking occupant of the coach had stepped out to ex-
amine his vehicle for damage.

Sparrow, exasperated, started after her brother. Wea-
sel slipped through the onlookers and was jostling closer
to the owner of the coach. Weasel, Sparrow admitted,
showed natural skill. Even her sharp eyes could not
catch the movement of his hand toward the gentle-
man's waistcoat.

Weasel, however, was not quite as expert as he had
boasted- At the last moment, he fumbled, and his hand
came back empty. Realizing his failure, he tried to dart
away. His intended victim moved faster- He seized
Weasel by the arm, shook him furiously, and began
shouting for a constable.

Sparrow, seeing that the struggling Weasel could not
pull free, flung herself on her brother's captor and set
about kicking him in the shins- Tough though they
were. Sparrow's bare toes produced little effect against
her opponent's boots. She, too, was gripped and held.

Two constables had arrived. Hearing enough of the
gentleman's account to leam on which side justice !ay,
they collared both urchins and, not without difficulty,
hauled them through the crowd.

"Keller' Keller!" Sparrow had glimpsed a familiar face
among the bystanders.

The man to whom Sparrow so desperately appealed
was youngish, with a full crop of tousled chestnut hair.

[73

His usual expression was one of ironic amusement, but
at sight of the prisoners he blinked in happy surprise
and hurried to Sparrow's side.

The constables, like the rest of the onlookers, recog-
nized him immediately. Keller was known all over
Marianstat as the publisher of the comic journal. Old
Kasperf. His presence was greeted with cheers and
boisterous laughter, and a number of shouted com-
ments that were more affectionate than polite.

When Keller demanded the facts of the matter, so
many voices chimed in that the Journalist held his head
with one hand and waved them to silence with the
other.

"I've heard all i need," Keller announced. "The case
is clear, open and shut." He gestured toward the owner
of the coach, whose scowl did not place him among Old
Kaspert's devoted readers. "Quite obviously, on the very
face of it, this suspicious-looking fellow has attempted
to assault and rob two upstanding young citizens, and
our brave constables are protecting them from further
onslaught. Shame on you, sir! If you must commit fel-
onies, choose someone your own size. Really, sir, you
criminals are starting to behave like the aristocracy."

"Damn you and your tomfoolery," the man retorted.
"One tried to pick my pocket. The other attacked me.
These officers will do their duty, and no more of your
stupid nonsense."

"Do you mean I've got it wrong way round?" Keller
feigned bewilderment. "My dear sir, forgive me. 1 mis-
understood- Wait—1 have it now. They were the ones
who robbed and attacked you?

"But this is all very puzzling," Keller went on. "From

[741

the way this young lady is hopping on one leg, I con-
clude that her toe sustained more damage than your
boot. I call that assault by deadly footwear, with intent
to bunion; a grave offense. Now, as to loss of prop-
erty— What, there was none? Then I suggest, sir, you
have caused this diligent young gentleman to waste his
time. And time, you must agree, is extremely valuable.
I'm afraid this deplorable affair will cost you dear. I urge
you to drop the whole business."

Applause from the onlookers convinced the would-
be plaintiff that while he might have the law on his
side, he could not say as much for the crowd. Even the
constables chuckled and nudged each other. He mo-
tioned angrily for them to unhand their prisoners. "Go
to the devil, the lot of you."

"I, for one, most assuredly will," replied Keller.

Taking Sparrow and Weasel in tow, the Journalist led
them across the square. "Water rats, I'm glad to see you.
But why did you leave your fens and marshes? Marian-
stat, I admit, is something of a swamp, but not such an
agreeable one."            o

"We live here now," said Sparrow.

"Ah? And where, pray tell, is your town residence?
Chateau Underbridge?"

"Never heard of it," said Weasel. "We sleep in door-
ways. Not as good as our hut. But Sparrow wanted to
leave. There used to be all sorts of good things we could
fish out of the river, but our pickings started getting
thin."

"Times are bad everywhere," said Keller. "Even for
scavengers."

"Besides," added Weasel, "later there was constables

[75]

and soldiers poking around. They even came in boats.
It was all we could do to keep out of their way."
'Too bad," said Keller. "They were looking for you."
"Why?" Sparrow asked. "What did we do wrong?"
"Nothing. You did right," said Keller. "You gener-
ously offered me hospitality when I had certain diffi-
culties of my own with the law. We wanted to find you
and properly reward you—J and that other gentleman
you rescued."

"Who, the white-haired old buffer? The one floating
in the river with his arm cut up?"

Keller nodded. "The white-haired old buffer, as you
so aptly describe him, is alive and well, thanks to you.
He has a new trade- He is none other than the queen's
chief minister."

Sparrow was unimpressed. "What's the reward?"
"Do we get money?" Weasel chimed in.
"In the case of high state officials," Keller said, "a
reward more commonly takes the form of sincere thanks.
Sometimes a gold watch- For my part, I intend to give
you something better than mere cash. I propose to offer
you a life."

"Got one," said Weasel.

"This will be brand-new. I've been thinking a great
deal about you two since we parted."

Sparrow perked up- No one, to her recollection, had
ever admitted thinking about her. She looked at the
journalist with new interest.

"You shall lodge with me," said Keller. "You shall be
fed and clothed. I need a couple extra pairs of feet. You
shall run the occasional errand and otherwise make
yourselves useful. As you scavenged the river, you shall
learn to scavenge the town: for scraps of news, rags of

[76}

humorous incidents, shreds of gossip, and all such fas-
cinating rubbish.

"In the course of time, if you prove sufficiently im-
pudent, enterprising, inquisitive, and generally dis-
reputable—and you are well on the way—you your-
selves might become scriveners."

"Is that as good as a thief?" asked Weasel.

"Better," said Keller. "It's thievery of the highest de-
gree. We steal people's lives, thoughts, feelings, and sell
them. Some of us even steal each other's ideas, but that's
rather frowned on; we try to maintain a sort of honor."

Weasel's face lit up. "I like that."

"And you, my dear young lady? Is that what you
might want to be?"

Sparrow thought for a moment. "What I mostly want
to be is warm. But I guess scrivening will do."

Keller occupied apartments above the offices of Old
Kasperi, and it was there he brought his new col-
leagues, putting them first in the hands of Madam Ber-
tha, his long-suffering housekeeper. The good woman
was predictably aghast at the journalist's latest and, in
her opinion, greatest folly. She ricked off on her fingers
the disasters sure to follow. She had reached only eight
of them, including arson and assassination, when Keller
interrupted.

"Don't forget the worst. I intend teaching them to
read and write. The consequences will surely prove
horrendous."

Madam Bertha suggested that if Keller applied in his
personal life half the good sense he put into his journal,
he would be better off.

"Ah, my dear Madam Bertha," said Keiler, "that's the

177]

way of it, don't you see? I only write Old Kasperi, I never
read it."

Making a show of aggravation and disapproval,
grumbling that Keller would bnng about the ruin of
them ail, and thereby trying to conceal her fondness for
the journalist, the old woman herded the protesting
Sparrow and Weasel off to be scmbbed and put into
what dean clothing she could find.

Keller, meantime, went down to his office and sent
the printer's devil with a note to Dr. Ton-ens, advising
that their benefactors had been discovered at last. The
journalist and the physician had grown to be friends
since their suffering at the hands of Cabbarus; Keller
was a regular visitor at the Juliana Palace. Only re-
cently, Torrens had confided that the queen had gone
off on a madcap search for Theo. He trusted the jour-
nalist not to reveal this. Keller, though dismayed at
keeping such astounding news out of his journal, reluc-
tantly agreed when Torrens reminded him he was
speaking to him privately as a friend. The chief minis-
ter's purpose had been to enlist Keller's help in tracing
the queen. To this Keller also agreed, but his efforts
had so far been unsuccessful.

On that same afternoon, word of the invasion reached
Marianstat, and the news that Queen Augusta had taken
personal command of the army. The Mananstatters had
poured into the streets, not in alarm but in celebration-
A minor engagement at an obscure bridge was already
being hailed as the Victory of Alma, setting the popu-
lace in )oyful frenzy. The insolent Regians had been
taught a sharp lesson, the valiant troops of Westmark
and their queen would soon send the villains packing.

{78}

Keller stood in his doorway, observing the throng.
He was, apparently, the only one who had taken pains
to consult a map. It did not need a field marshal to see
that if the Regians ever forced a crossing, if they ad-
vanced in any kind of strength, they would be a dagger
pointed at the capital itself. He smelled a disaster in the
making.

"My poor fools," Keller murmured, as the happy
crowd swirled past. "My poor dear fools."

Some of the revelers called him to join them. Keller
turned away.

His business was to point out folly, not drown in it.

Under the circumstances, Keller did not expect to hear
from Torrens, the chief minister having more on his
mind than a pair of water rats. The journalist was,
therefore, surprised when only a few days later he and
his charges were summoned to the Juliana, and a royal
carriage arrived to carry them there.

Sparrow and Wease! hardly batted an eye at their visit
to a palace, looking on it simply as a house bigger and
better furnished but draftier than their hut on the riv-
erbank. They were more than happy to see the white-
haired old buffer again, but less than grateful for the
gold watches he presented to them. Queen Caroline
herself received the water rats in her apartments and
made much of them, as if the presence of children con-
soled her for the absence of her daughter. She had cups
of chocolate brought for the pair, which endeared her
to Sparrow and Weasel forever.

Torrens, meanwhile, talked apart with the journalist
behind the closed doors of the ministerial offices. The

[791

physician looked haggard. The defection of many field
officers had left the army in disarray, and he had or-
dered the formation of local militias. He agreed with
Keller. The kingdom stood in greater danger than even
the cabinet ministers realized.

"To make matters worse," Torrens said, "Queen Au-
gusta has very unwisely put herself in the thick of it;

exactly where, I do not yet know. It was pointless of
her to run off as she did. An unsigned note has come
into my hands, claiming Theo is safe. If only she had
waited—"

"And yet," said Keller, "it may be for the best. She's
become the darling of the Marianstatters."

"For how long, if things go badly? Aside from that,
this came to my attention some days ago. In the normal
course. I would have thrown it out. Now 1 cannot ig-
nore it. If this is circulated and believed, it may do ir-
reparable harm."

He handed the journalist a pamphlet, badly printed
on coarse paper. "I disregard the personal attack on me.
I have been attacked before. This vicious slander strikes
at Queen Caroline, at Queen Augusta, at the future
prince consort— I have never seen anything as foul and
contemptible as this offal. The insinuations, the bare-
faced lies—"

Keller glanced at the text. "I give the author credit for
a colorful imagination."

"it is despicable trash," said Torrens. "Worse, ap-
pearing now of all times."

"Despicable," said Keller, "but only trash; low jour-
nalism that stops short of high treason."

"But no less dangerous. We have learned the name
of the scribbler who wrote it and the printer who pub-

{80}

lished it. The minister of justice has drawn up warrants
for their arrest. Here, too, is a decree forbidding pub-
lication of offensive material. And, for the protection of
honest writers, licenses will henceforth be required, and
granted only after careful investigation. The papers
await my signature of approval."

"Which, of course, you won't give," said Keiler.
"How can you? My dear Torrens, you and I have often
talked about these things. You yourself have said the
press must not be muzzled. I can't imagine you'd even
consider it."

"I must consider it now," replied Torrens. "Desper-
ate conditions require desperate remedies."

"Even to following the example of your predeces-
sor?"

"Cabbarus forbade the truth," Torrens answered. "I
would forbid only lies."

"To my knowledge," said Keller, "no one in the his-
tory of the world has managed that."

"This will not hinder any decent, reasonable joumal-

• 1st," Torrens went on. "On the^contrary, it would allow

more freedom."

1    "Allow more by taking some away?" put in Keller.
"My dear friend, you know that one thing leads to an-
other. You may well end by censoring cookbooks for
giving indigestion. Suppose, one day. Old Kasperi in
all good conscience might make certain comments found
to be, shall we say, less than amusing?"

"You have answered your own question. That makes

' the difference: in good conscience."

•;    "I didn't know you had the gift of reading a man's
I conscience," Keller said. "My profoundest admiration."
]    Their talk grew more heated until Keller, who had

[8-1

always prided himself on keeping an amused detach-
ment, found his own temper starting to fray, though it
was clear to him Torrens was speaking more in anguish
than anger- The journalist thought it best to end the
conversation before it turned into a quarrel.

"I've been delighted to give my opinion," said Keiler,
"if not my agreement."

Torrens did not answer. Keller said no more, but col-
lected his water rats and took his leave.

After the journalist had gone, Torrens sat down at his
desk and put his head in his hands. He preferred the
practice of medicine to the practice of statecraft. He had
accepted his position with greatest reluctance. He
understood the ills of the body and their cures. States-
manship, he thought bitterly, was a disease without a
cure, and he had been afflicted with it, for the sake of
the kingdom-
He signed the papers.

\82

Justin's company had made camp for the night when
Theo and the Monkey caught up with them. Justin did
not appear surprised at Theo's arrival, seeming to take
it for granted. When Theo tried to thank him for send-
ing the mare, Justin shook his head as if he had forgot-
ten about it. He told Theo to settle himself where he
pleased; the Monkey would see to blankets and what-
ever gear he needed. Theo found a place near the horse
lines. Stock joined him soon after-

"I imagined you'd be along/" said the poet, who had
saved a share of his evening ration. "Decent of Justin,
wasn't it? But you ought to know I'm the one who
thought of the horse."

Theo gratefully munched the heel of black bread. The
sky was brighter than he had ever seen it, and the night
almost warm. The woods gave off an overpowering
smell of moist earth and moldering leaves. He did not
speculate on what Florian would do after realizing he
was gone, he was too satisfied by his own decision.

Stock lay at ease on the turf, hands under his head,

[83

one leg cocked over his bent knee- "The Muse, I am
happy to report, has favored me with a visit. I have it
all in my head, it's only a question of setting it down
when I have the chance. Justin's kept us on the go to-
day- He's very keen—as we all are. He thought I was
joking about knights and paladins. I wasn't. There's a
spirit. You'll catch it once you're here awhile. Every-
one's behaved wonderfully; the women have set us all
an example."

The poet sat up and leaned on an elbow- "Did you
ever wonder if things could have been different? How
much of it's accident? I mean, if you hadn't happened
to run into Queen ^Augusta when you did— Is it true

she was going about in rags, without any notion who
she was? Remarkable.

"And the business about Cabbarus. The word is you
actually had the rascal's life in your hands; you kept
him from tumbling off a tower and cracking his skull."

"It was something like that."

Stock laughed. "Then, my lad, you have much to an-
swer for- Justin thinks, and I agree with him, that Cab-
barus must have a finger in this Regian thing. What if
you'd let him drop? Do you think any of the rest would
have happened? Would we be here now? You might
say it's all your doing."

"I don't know," said Theo- "Sometimes I wonder the
same thing, and if I did right. One way or another, I
suppose I'm to blame."

"Or to thank. Imagine what an experience this will
be. For me, at any rate. How am I to be a poet if 1 don't

see a few things for myself? How are you to be an art-
ist?"

{84}

"I doubt that 1 will."

"Ah—that's right- You'll be a prince. I forgot. It's not
likely one can do both- Then again, why not?" Stock
climbed to his feet. "I'm off to inspect the guard posts.
You'll have a rum, we all do. There's probably not a
Regian within miles. The Monkey guesses they're all on
the south bank of the Carla. Still, we must take care."

Stock disappeared into the underbrush. Theo wished
the poet had said nothing of Mickle. He had been trying
not to think of that part of his life and, until then, had
done well enough. By the time he was able to dose his
eyes, it was dawn. The Monkey was already up and
rousing the company.

The next days were dazzling blue and sun-dappled.
Justin was making his way generally eastward but
gradually bearing toward the Carla River. He set his
riders a good pace to make up for the heavily over-
grown stretches that forced all to dismount and walk
their horses. The Monkey brought up the rear, urging
on anyone who showed signs of straggling.

If Theo had sensed any coomess when he joined the
troop, it had vanished. He was'even invited to the
meetings Justin held at the beginning and end of each
day with Stock, the Monkey, two of the Freyborg stu-
dents, and a dark-haired giri named Rosana. These were
Justin's staff officers and, as Theo realized, his closest
and most devoted comrades. Theo was flattered, though
Justin never asked his opinion or gave him any duties.

Theo had begun to suppose that he was not seriously
counted part of the company. One day, however, after
they had borne south for a distance, Justin ordered Theo
and the Monkey to scout ahead and map likely fording

[85}

places across the Carla. A simple task, but it made Theo
feel that Justin had bestowed some priceless gift. De-
spite his misgivings and questions of ill will between
them, Theo was eager for Justin's approval. Or, at least,

his forgiveness.

With the Monkey's help, he reached the Carla before

midday. They found several fording places. The Mon-
key, flat on his belly behind a screen of brush, squinted
through a spyglass and pointed out the best. Theo set
about drawing a detailed map. He admired and envied
the Monkey's skill as a scout; the Monkey, in turn, was
impressed by Theo's ability as a mapmaker. By the time
they returned to camp, they had struck up an easygo-
ing comradeship.
Justin was sitting under a tree. Stock and his other

officers around him. Theo hurried to report his success.
Another man squatted beside Justin. It was Luther.

"The wise Raven has flown to us with great tid-
ings—" began Stock, but left off at a glance from Justin.
The gray-haired man was looking at Theo with the
expression of a professor who has caught a favorite stu-
dent in a dangerous prank.

"Luther has splendid news for us," Justin said. "You'll

be especially interested."

Luther repeated what he had told the others: that

Queen Augusta had taken command of troops at the
Alma. How she had come to be there in the first place
he had no idea. Her troops had very sensibly fallen back
to Carisbruch. Luther had not seen her, but intended
making his way there with messages from Florian.

Theo, listening amazed, nearly forgot the map. He
hastily put it in Justin's hands. Luther motioned him

apart -

[86]

"1 won't say if you're a fool or not." Luther stopped
a few paces from Justin and the others, who were por-
ing over Theo's work. "If I'd reached the mill a day
sooner— Florian, by the way, isn't very pleased at what
you've done."

"I don't see it's any of his concern."

"He does. I'm to bring you to Carisbruch. What's the
frown? That should make you happy, since your girl's
there."

"Yes, I'd have wanted—but not now. Luther, don't
you see I can't? Yes, I want to be with Mickle. That's
not the point. I can't let that make any difference. Justin
did a fine thing, letting me join—"

"Florian isn't overjoyed about that, either." broke in
Luther. "Justin can manage without you."

"That's still not the point. Don't you understand? For
.once, I'm doing something worthwhile, something I
•believe in. Really doing, not just talking about it. If I
' EO to Carisbruch, what then? To be on a staff of some
and? Do you think Mickle's officers would give me any
leal work to do? I'd be no more than the prince consort.
Vot even that. Only the future prince consort."

^'That's for you to settle," said Luther. "Pack up, lad."
^ "No. If Mickle were in my place, she'd do the same.
l^don't care if Florian's unhappy, i'm not one of his

leople. He can't order me."

r"' •

' "But I can order Justin to send you away."

^Theo looked squarely at him. "You won't, though- if
r^foi were going to, you'd have done it already. You
tk0W I'm right to stay."
Ir^ou're the only one who knows that."
^"When you're in Carisbruch, will you give Mickle a
r? I'll write it now, you'll have it before you go."

[87\

"No letters," Luther said. "1 want no papers on me if     ^
I have the bad luck to be captured. But I'll pass along a     ^.

message."

"Say that you've seen me and explain why I'm here.     .^;

She'll understand. Say I love her. As she knows."          ||

Luther nodded- "Good-bye, then. I expect I'll be back.     ^
one day or another."                                     ":

"I never thanked you for saving my life."                : .

"No need. See tl^at you hang on to it."                 ^!

That night, after Luther had gone, they forded the     %
Carla. Justin, taking advantage of the darkness, pressed     £ti
on without a halt into the wide belt of woodland skirt-
ing the Domitians. By morning, they had made camp
in the towering shadow of the Homgard. Much to the
relief of Stock, who had been thoroughly soaked during
the crossing, Justin ordered a rest. Theo had hardly
stretched out when, to his surprise, Justin called all of-
ficers to him.

The Monkey and a few others, who had followed later
as a rear guard, had galloped into the clearing. They
had sighted Regians a little way downriver.

"It's only a quartermaster company." The Monkey
spat through his teeth. "Cooks and clerks. A handful of
infantry for escort—old crocks, mostly, who should have
been mustered out long ago. They've got some nice cart-
loads of stores: grain, fodder, some rations for Mull, I'd

guess."

Justin was delighted at the news, but added, "We
can still rest a bit. If they're following the road, we'll
catch them up easily enough."

"I don't think so. Captain," said the Monkey. "As I

\88\

see it, they're trying to join a column that's outmarched
them. We don't know who's following them, either. If
you've any mind to gobble them, you do it now."

"Hay and oats?" put in Stock. "Not much of a prize."

"Ah, but there is," the Monkey said. "Powder and
shot, too. And the best for last. They've got a light
fieldpiece, a trim little popgun for one of their moun-
tain batteries."

"Cannon?" Justin sprang to his feet, eyes alight.

The Monkey grinned enormously. "Yours for the tak-
ing."

"We'll have it, then," cried Justin, clapping his hands.
"We'll have it, and everything else."

As word of the planned attack ran through the camp,
the company suddenly forgot their weariness. There was
feverish haste to make ready. Theo's face tingled. Stock
was grinning and chuckling to himself. The tired horses
turned frisky, whinnying and curvetting as Justin sig-
naled the riders to move out.

Justin had given his orders quickly and clearly. As
the company bore closer to the road, they divided into
three groups: the first two, led by Justin and the Mon-
key, would launch the attack. The third, under Stock's
command, would hold back until the engagement had
well begun, then gallop in to seize the supplies. Justin
and the Monkey would deal with the cannon. The ac-
tion was to take place with all speed, the company doing
its work and withdrawing before the Regians could re-
gain their balance.

Theo had been ordered to Stock's party. The poet,
grumbling that he was to be no more than a teamster
and ration handler, could hardly curb his horse, let alone

189]

his impatience, while the others pressed on. Theo's
heart pounded, he felt giddy It seemed he had been
waiting, frozen in his saddle, for hours. Nevertheless,
when the firing began, it came as a shock. He startled
and galloped after Stock, who had plunged ahead.

Without remembering how he got there, Theo found
himselt scrambling through billows of smoke. Justin's
and the Monkey's riders had taken the company in the
midst of preparing their midday meal. Two tall cook
pots had been overturned; their contents, what looked
like a gray stew, spilled across the ground- The mess
sergeant, who vaguely reminded Theo of Jellinek, an
apron around his belly, was shouting and waving his
arms, a look of utter bewilderment on his red face.

Someone had untethered the packhorses. Theo seized
the first sack of provisions he saw and hauled it to the
troopers hastily loading the animals. Two of the carts
had been set on fire. The Regian infantrymen, tunics
unbuttoned, barely had time to snatch their muskets.
Of Justin's party, those still mounted were plunging
their horses amid the terrified foot soldiers. Theo,
drenched with sweat, had lost sight of Stock but
glimpsed Justin and the Monkey at the cannon.

It was bigger than Theo had imagined from the Mon-
key's offhanded description, with a black iron barrel
and heavy breech. It was hooked to a light, high-
wheeled limber. Some of Justin's people were straining
to swing it around and drag it dear.

Stock suddenly reappeared, yelling for Theo to give a
hand with a powder keg. When he glanced back, Theo
saw that the cook, puffing and gasping, and half a dozen
of his quartermaster comrades had been pressed into
hauling away their own gun. With the Monkey flailing

190]

at them with the flat of his saber, the Regians had been
obliged to seize the shaft of the limber and do the work
of the horses, which were now loaded with bundles of
stores.

Stock, remounted, bawled for Theo. The burdened
pack animals had started up the slope into the wood-
land. Theo kicked his heels into the mare's Hanks. His
eyes smarted with the smoke from the burning carts,
the reek of gunpowder dung to him even after Stock's
party had left the Regian company far behind.

The poet, in his flush of exuberance at the success of
their first engagement, had led them far out of their
way. He refused, nevertheless, to admit he was lost.

"Military tactics!" he cried, gleeful at how much they
had managed to carry off- "Co back the same way we
came? Never! Confuse the enemy—even more than they
are now!"

Stock continued in high spirits, congratulating him-
self and his men. Theo, no less excited, could guess
that the poet already had in mind the glorious report
he would deliver. Finally, after a''number of wrong rums
and much backtracking, they reached the camp. Justin
and the rest of the company had arrived long before.

There was a festive air about the camp. The Monkey
perched triumphantly on the limber. Justin, who had
been examining the cannon, ran to meet them. He did
not reproach Stock for his tardmess, but only urged him
and Theo to come and admire the prize.

"A beauty!" Justin cried. "The Monkey can teach us
how to aim and fire. You've got powder and shot?
Wonderful! You did splendidly, all of you. Not a man
lost. I wish Flonan could have seen us.

"And the Regians, having to steal their own gun!

(97]

They pulled it all the way, the hardest work those fel-
lows have ever done, I should think."

"Where are they?" asked Theo, while Justin led them
to the cannon, eager to show how it worked and look-
ing as if he were about to load and fire it then and

there.

"Who? Oh—the Regians." Justin said. "I had them

shot."

[92)

9

Sparrow was in love. She had never been in that con-
dition before; she did not realize she was in it now.
She simply took it for granted, as natural as rain or sun.
She envied Madam Bertha, who prepared Keller's meals
and constantly chided him for not eating enough of
them, for staying out till all hours, for neglecting his
health and his laundry. Instead of resenting the house-
keeper, Sparrow imitated her- Madam Bertha could not
withstand such unintended ftaftery. She took Sparrow
to her heart, deciding that anyone so concerned for the
journalist would probably not burn down the house or
steal the spoons.

Keller, who had other things on his mind, was un-
aware of all this. He was merely pleased they got on so
well.

Weasel, in his own fashion, worshiped Keller and of-
fered his greatest gift: He renounced all ambition to be-
come a thief, and put his mind to his lessons.

As for those, Sparrow learned faster than her brother -
What pride she took in her accomplishments she kept
to herself. She preferred to give the impression that let-

[93

ters were small things she could have grasped on her
own, had she wanted, and did so now only because
Keller set great store by them. Weasel, however, was
continually wonder-struck. Also, he believed Keller had
invented the alphabet.

Weasel, like his sister, dogged his benefactor's foot-
steps. He adopted KeUer's ambiing gait as best he could.
He would have been happy to curl up and sleep the
night at Keller's door, but Madam Bertha did not allow
it.

During the day. Sparrow and Weasel ran errands.
They remembered Keller had spoken of scavenging the
town for scraps of gossip, which they did gladly. They
found great quantity but little variety. The townsfolk
talked of nothing but the war. The flush of the Alma
victory persisted. New troops mustered daily in Great
Augustine Square to the rattle of drums and the waving
of banners. The recruits wore flowers in their button-
holes or in their hats; some put the blossoms into their
musket muzzles.

The pair observed this, bright-eyed with delight-
Neither had seen anything like it. Weasel found it es-
pecially stirring, but a littte puzzling.

Finally, his curiosity got the better of him and he
asked his sister, "What's a war?"

"How can you be so stupid?" said Sparrow. "Every-
body knows that."

"Well, I do know," retorted Weasel. "I forgot."

Sparrow gave a sigh of long-suffering. It was her duty,
nevertheless, to instruct her brother from time to time.
"What it is, mostly, is marching."

Weasel was unsatisfied. "Why would they do that?"

"To get where they want to go, of course."

l94j

"Yes, but then what?"

Sparrow thought for a moment, as if recalling all other
wars she had seen- "Do you remember the other day,
when Keller took us to the park, and Madam Bertha
packed our food in a basket?"

"And Kelter drank the whole bottle of wine?" Weasel
smiled at the pleasant recollection. "That wasn't a war.
That was a picnic."

"It's almost the same," replied Sparrow, "only big-
ger. They go marching off, and carry their food with
them. When they get hungry, they stop and eat. Oh—
first, they dress up in their uniforms. Then, they meet
the enemy."

"I know that part of it," Weasel said proudly. "That's
the Regians. Everybody's talking about them. They're
cowardly swine and vile wretches. What I don't see is—
if they're swine and wretches, why does anybody want
anything to do with them?"

"Because they came sneaking in where they don't be-
long," said Sparrow. "Our soldiers go and fight them
and chase them off. That's why they have muskets, to
shoot at them. The Regians try to do the same. But
they're such cowards, they can't. Then, after they're
chased off, everybody marches back and that's the end
of it."

"How long will it take?"

Sparrow frowned. "I heard a lot say no time at alt.
But Keller was talking in the office, and he said the devil
of a while."

"Keller's always right."

"Yes. The devil of a while—I guess he means two
weeks, maybe three."

"That long?" The boy whistled. Sparrow might as well

(95J

have spoken of infinity. He tried to absorb it and gave
up. Something intrigued him further.

"The muskets," he said eagerly. "What a racket they'll
make' I'd like to be there when they're shooting. But—
don't they hurt each other?"

"Of course not," said Sparrow. "At least not if they
can help it. Little nit! Do you think they're as stupid as

you

?"

Keller wanted to see Torrens. They had parted, last
time, with a strain of coolness. Keller did not expect
much welcome at the Juliana- It was necessary, even so,
to speak with the chief minister. The journalist formally
requested an audience and was a little surprised when
it was readily granted.

Torrens appeared more careworn than before. There
were dark blotches under his eyes. Keller had prepared
himself for a reception chilly at best- Torrens, however,
treated the journalist with consideration and seemed
half apologetic. The man, Keller guessed, was ashamed
of himself. The chief minister said nothing about their
past conversation, his concern was entirely with the
war.

"Queen Augusta still holds Carlsbruch," he told
Keller. "She hopes to fortify it, according to the reports
she sends us. In fact, she is handling her forces with
remarkable skill."

"She can't hold forever," said Keller. "The Regians
must force her hand sooner or later."

"I fear so. I have no idea of her future plans, but I
confess i see no happy outcome. Queen Caroline is
frantic, she has sent message after message, and so have
I. Augusta refuses to come back. If the Regians overrun

[961

her position while she remains there, I dread the con-
sequences. It would be tragedy enough if she were
killed in battle. If she were taken prisoner, I would still
fear for her life."

"Surely our uninvited guests would observe the rules
of war," said Keller, "at least as far as they apply to
royalty."

"I am not so confident," said Torrens. "I have since
learned, beyond question, that Baron Montmollin and
certain others, including General Erzcour, deliberately
betrayed us. They wish the queen deposed. Trying to
set right old abuses, putting justice before privilege,, she
has committed the one unpardonable sin: She has
threatened their power. They would be better pleased,
I daresay, if she did not survive at all. It would simplify
matters for them considerably. The Regians would no
doubt be glad to oblige."

Keller was tempted to remark that the greed and self-
ishness of the aristocracy had done worse damage to
the kingdom than the insults of any scurrilous pam-
phleteer. He bit his tongue an-d let the chief minister
go on.

"Something alarms me further," said Torrens. "This
is for your ears only, though it is only a matter of time
before it becomes public knowledge. Our old friend
Florian is fishing in troubled waters. He has taken to
the field. A number of our people, especially in the
countryside, are joining him. Apparently, he supports
the queen—at the moment. If she suffers any serious
reverse, I cannot trust him to continue to do so. I re-
spect the man himself; in some ways he is even admi-
rable. But he will seize whatever opportunity comes to
hand. He would be a fool if he did not. Whatever else

[97}

he may be. Master Florian is no fool. He and his fol-
lowers must be dealt with firmly."

"You are too much in the palace," Keller said. "What
you tell me is already public knowledge. I can only warn
you, if you treat Florian as an enemy, you'll make mat-
ters worse. You can hardly afford more enemies than
you already have."

"Those are my concerns," Torrens said. "I will not
burden you with them. Forgive me. I presume you have
your own."

"Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked to see you? Yes,
you're right- Naturally, I'm here to beg a favor."

"You need net beg," said Torrens. "If it is within my
power—"
'-It is."

"And within my conscience."
"Even that."

"Then," said Torrens, "consider it granted."
The journalist and the chief minister talked awhile,
then Keller left for his office. He did not go directly,
but strolled around the city. It was a lovely day. By the
time he returned to his apartments, Sparrow and Wea-
sel had come back from their own ramblings. Keller sat
them down in front of him.

"Water rats," he said, "you are fortunate. Not only
do you have the prospect of a brilliant career—I was
about to say 'enviable' but that would be stretching
things a little—you have also gained the grace and fa-
vor of the white-haired old buffer."

"He already gave us watches," said Sparrow.
"Mine doesn't work," added Weasel. "I don't care. I
don't know how to tell time."

"He has awarded you something of more substance,"

[98}

Keller said. "He has agreed that henceforth you will re-
ceive a stipend from the royal purse."

"What's a stipend?" Sparrow asked.

"Money. An allowance, you might say. You will re-
ceive it at regular intervals. The finance minister will
see to the details, so you needn't trouble yourselves
counting on your fingers. You will not be rich. The
generosity of the crown does not go quite that far.
Nevertheless, water rats, you will be well-off."

"We've always been well-off," said Sparrow.

"Yes, but now you'll be better off. So shall I. For I
admit to certain hesitations and misgivings which are
now laid to rest.

"I have a debt," Keller went on. "Not a debt of cash.
In our profession, that would be ordinary, and the only
extraordinary thing would be to pay it- This, however,
is a debt of a different nature. Call it a debt of honor:

the costliest, which we scribblers can seldom afford. It
calls for payment, though payment has never been re-
quested.

"Some while ago, a certain gentleman did me a ser-
vice, not unlike the one you did. H"e offered protection
when I needed it rather badly. Better, he offered me the
use of a printing press, which I needed still more, in a
town called Freyborg. As things rumed out, I did not
have to stay there long, and was abie to return here.
Nevertheless, the offer was made and accepted. Now,
this gentleman, I believe, would be glad for any help
that might come his way."

"Who is it?" asked Sparrow. "The white-haired old
buffer?"

"Neither white-haired nor old. His name is Florian."

"I've heard of him," Sparrow said. "People were ar-

[99|

guing in the square. One said he was a dangerous hot-
head, another said he was a caution, the very devil of
a fellow."

"Correct on all counts," said Keller "That's neither
here nor there. Now that I'm sure you'll be looked after,
come what may, I intend to pay what I owe him.
Against all reason and common sense, against all my
principles and better judgment, I have decided to go off
to the war. I expect no difficulty finding my creditor if
I look in the right places. Whatever happens, with
Madam Bertha on one hand and the old buffer on the
other, you have nothing to worry about. I only urge
you to behave yourselves, at least to the extent of your
abilities. In the case of Weasel, this includes using a
handkerchief instead of his fingers. I shal! leave to-
night. This kind of folly, if done at all, should be done
promptly."

Keller had braced himself for an outburst. Sparrow
and Weasel sat silent, watching him with round eyes.
The Journalist felt a twinge of disappointment. Had they
protested, wept, or pleaded, he might even have pos-
sibly reconsidered.

He did not understand two things: first, that Weasel
envied his going on such a splendid outing but stood
in too much awe of him to say anything; second, that
Sparrow was so devastated as to be dumbstruck.

He did not hear the girl sobbing later in her room.

The water rats had taken a hard blow. However, they
had not survived a life in the swamps for nothing. Keiler
had been gone only two days when Sparrow realized
there had been a terrible misunderstanding.

[100]

"He was in such a hurry, he forgot," she said. "He's
always forgetting something. Madam Bertha told me
once he even forgot to uncork a bottle before he poured
it. Madam Bertha says he'd go out without his head if
he didn't have it attached to his neck."

"Do you think he forgot something this time?"

"Of course he did," said Sparrow. "The most impor-
tant thing of all."

"Underwear? Keller thinks underwear is important."

"No. He forgot to ask us to go with him."

"That's right!" Weasel's eyes lit up. "He never said a
word about it." On reflection, his face fell. "He told us
to stay here."

"That shows how much you remember," said Spar-
row. "He told us to behave ourselves. That was all. He
didn't say how. Keller likes us to figure out such things
for ourselves. Now, if Florian helped him, and he's
going to help Florian— Keller helped us, so he must
have expected us to heip him."

"Do you think so?" asked Weasel, hope returning.

"I know it," Sparrow declared.

Weasel recognized only two laws. The second was
Keller; the first. Sparrow. "We'd better hurry, then. We
don't want to keep him waiting."

Madam Bertha was so distraught over her employer's
latest and greatest example of lunacy that she did not
immediately notice the absence of the water rats. it was
only at the end of the day and well past suppertime
that she realized they had gone. She noticed a loaf of
bread and a cold fowl absent along with them. The only
consolation for her added tears was the knowledge that

W1

she had been right about them from the start: They were
a pair of thieves-

By then. Sparrow and Weasel were on their way out
of the city. Their first problem was to determine where
Keller had gone. Sparrow settled it easily by approach-
ing a guard at the Vespera bridge.

"Pardon me, sir," she said politely, "but how do we
find the war?"

102

10

The Monkey was grinning at him. Theo went to Justin.
"You had the prisoners shot? Why not say you had them
murdered?"

Instead of answering, Justin took Theo's arm and
drew him to a canvas shelter that had been slung be-
tween two trees.

"I didn't want to, you know," Justin said patiently,
with no trace of anger in his voice. Had Justin stormed
at him, Theo would have been^taken less aback, "i had
to."

"Cooks and quartermasters! They weren't combat
soldiers, they weren't fighting back."

"That's true, they weren't," Justin said. "They weren't
fools, either. They saw our camp. They saw how many
we are and how well armed- Turn them loose and let
them report to their officer? I'd have put every one of
my people at nsk. Including you."

"You could have kept them prisoners "

"To be fed? Guarded? To be a drag on us?" Justin
said "It was my responsibility My decision. You tell
me one thing: What reasonable choice did 1 have?"

Theo did not answer- Justin went on. "Then I'll teil
you one thing. I'm sorry we left any Regians alive. They
know we're here now. They were bound to, sooner or
later; I'd have preferred later. Well, no way around that.
The Monkey says we should move out before dawn to-
morrow, go further up-country and lie low a few days."

Justin pressed his hands against his forehead. "It
couldn't be helped. Get some rest. We're tired, all of
us-

"Another thing," Justin added, as Theo was about to
leave. "If you ever have in mind to question a decision,
do it in private." He raised his head and smiled
abruptly. "Best yet, don't do it at all."

Stock was sitting on the ground, scratching the turf
with the point of his knife. He hardly glanced up when
Theo joined him and told him what Justin had said.

"It's sickening," answered the poet, with none of his
usual exuberance. "The worst part of it is he's right. At
least, 1 think he is. What would you have done?"

"That's another worst part of it. I don't know."

"The only thing I'm glad of," said Stock, "is that it
wasn't up to me. Anyhow, it's over and done. No mat-
ter how you look at it, though, there's no honor in it."

"And if the same thing happens again? Suppose
you're the one who's ordered to do it?" Theo put the
question to Stock only to avoid putting it to himself.
He wondered if he should have gone with Luther.

"What I think," the poet said, his balding brow in
deep furrows, "is that it's Justin's command. I don't
know if he has to answer to us for what he does. But
we have to answer to ourselves for what we do. 1 should
have spoken up along with you."

\104\

"It wouldn't have helped anything."

"Only my conscience," replied Stock- "You expect
certain things in war. You have to swallow them. But
how much has to be swallowed? Not all of it, surely.
There must be limits. It's a matter of finding them."

Stock said no more. The Monkey was good-naturedly
chivvying the company to put the captured supplies in
order- Justin had gone back to studying his cannon.

They broke camp next day. It was the first of several
moves they were to make before the Monkey found a
site in the uplands that he judged safe enough. Theo,
by then, could have slept soundly in the midst of the
Regian army. His muscles screamed at the constant
packing and unpacking of stores. Stock looked ready to
drop. Neither dared complain, for Justin worked harder
than any of his troop. He took a hand in hitching the
horses to the limber and put his own shoulder to the
wheel when the gun carriage foundered in the bed of a
stream.

Justin treated the cannon like a marvelous new toy.
He constantly tinkered with it and almost resented any-
one else handling the fieldpiece. The Monkey had cho-
sen several of the troop to serve as gunners, but Justin
himself demanded to leam how to aim, load, and fire.
He also devised a lighter carriage for the weapon, so it
could be brought faster into action,

Even with the cannon, Justin never repeated his first
easy success. The Regians, aware now of their enemy,
took more pains to arm their supply columns. The pro-
visions the company relied on, both to use for them-
selves as well as to deprive the Regians, were hard won
and harder fought for.

1051

The first deaths came late in the spring. Justin,
hoping to replenish his dwindling provisions at one
stroke, launched an attack on a lightly defended sup-
ply train. Stock and Theo, as usual, waited in reserve
for Justin's signal to charge and ransack the disarrayed
line.

Before they could do so, a company of Regian infan-
try burst from the woods on their flank. By the time
Stock's party realized the Regians had set a trap for
them, it was hopeless to wheel and face their ambush-
ers. Under the volley of musket fire, one of the horses
toppled, screaming and kicking its legs. Theo sprang
down and pulled the rider free. Stock shouted to tali
back. At the same time, the Monkey and his detach-
ment came scrambling up the slope in full retreat. Jus-
tin, fortunately, had set his cannon a little distance
above them on the brow of a low hill. The fieldpiece
flung shot after shot, as fast as the gunners could re-
load, against the Regian countercharge. Even at that,
the gun itself narrowly escaped capture. The Regians
did not press their advantage, perhaps fearing they
would, in turn, be ambushed in the unfamiliar hills.

Three of the raiding party had been killed outright-
Another had taken a musket ball in the chest. The
Monkey had flung him across his saddle and had man-
aged to bring him back to the camp. Theo helped the
Monkey carry him into Justin's tent, and only then rec-
ognized him as the one, hardly more than a boy, who
had nearly beaten the Monkey at saber play.

They put him on the ground. Justin knelt beside him.
The boy could hardly speak for shock and for the clot-
ted foam welling into his throat. He kept rolling his
eyes from side to side, staring at one face and another

106]

as if asking to be assured nothing serious had hap-
pened to him. He was clearly beyond help.

Theo noticed the Monkey had taken the pistol from
his belt and was glancing at Justin. Seeming not to un-
derstand, Justin looked blankly at him a moment, then
shook his head.

The Monkey shrugged and put away his pistol.

The boy did not die until afternoon.

Earty in the morning, two days later, one of the look-
outs led in a half-grown girl. She had come from the
town lower in the valley. Her knees were scratched, her
skirt ripped by brambles. She had been clambering
through the brush a good part of the night. She would
speak to no one but Captain Shrike.

Justin, already long awake, came out of his tent. Theo,
Stock, and most of the company gathered around,
watching as the girl went straight to him.

"You're Shrike."

"Am I?" Justin smiled playfully and bent a little,
hands on his knees- "Now, missy, what makes you
think so?"

With a ringer, the girl traced a line across her fore-
head and down her cheek- She had a round, solemn
little face. "I'm to tell you something. The laundress in
our town, she wants me to say: from Lapwing."

Stock chuckled, recognizing the name he had be-
stowed on Rina. He whispered to Theo, "Our golden
divinity has been at work for us."

"Oh—I'm to give you this, too." The gin reached into
her bodice and handed Justin a square of paper. Justin
unfolded it and glanced at it. He laughed and handed
it to Theo.

107

"You taught us to do better work than this in Frey-
borg."

It was, Theo saw, a poster badly printed on a large,
coarse sheet, the ink a little smudged, still not quite
dry. Justin took it back and held it up before the com-
pany.

"We've given the Regians something to chew on," he
declared proudly. "They value our work. Here—a
splendid reward for 'help in the capture of bandits.'
Hardly a flattering term, but no matter. If they'll pay
that much for our heads, we must have nipped them
sharply. They're smarting from it."

"There were six hanged yesterday," the girl said, "on
account of the fighting. The tailor, the cooper—"

"They had no part in it." Theo burst out. "They
weren't our people."

"The Regians called it—reprisal," the girl said. "To
pay back for what you did."

"What else from Lapwing?" Justin broke in. His face
was impassive.

The girl looked upward a moment, as if recalling a
lesson she had learned by heart. She repeated Rina's
message in a schoolroom singsong, halting now and
again, taking pains to be correct. Lapwing warned
Shrike that the Regians planned to send a strong force
into the hills. Shrike and his friends must move farther
west immediately. Lapwing would be gone by the time
her message arrived. She was going toward Eschbach.
She would send word again as soon as she could.

The girl stopped and looked around for approval of
her recitation. Justin nodded and patted her head- "Well
done. But how did you know where to find us?"

[108}

The girl gave a sly smile. "We know these parts. Some
of us keep an eye on you. We knew when you came.
But it's all right. No one told. Not even when the Reg-
ians hanged them."

Justin offered to send one of the company partway
back with the girl to make sure of her safety. She re-
fused indignantly and set off through the brush before
Justin could thank her. He turned to Theo, with a pe-
culiar half-smile.

"You called me a murderer for executing enemy sol-
diers. What would you call the Regians' killing inno-
cent civilians?"

Theo turned away. He was both ashamed and fright-
ened at himself.

For an instant, he was glad, wildly glad, that Justin
had shot the prisoners.

Stock was composing what he assured Theo would
be the noblest and most heartfelt work of his career.

"An epic poem," he declared, "which I shall title: Tlie
Saga of Roast Mutton. It will be''in six courses—I mean
cantos—and it will feed our spirits, if not our bellies.
Even art, my boy, has its limitations."

"You write it," said Theo, with a dour grin. "I'll draw
pictures to go with it." He had, in fact, sketched noth-
ing since leaving the mill. It already seemed another
age, remote and only half-remembered. Odd, he found,
that now of all times he should miss doing it.

"Short of everything else," the poet said, when Theo
asked for an explanation of this feeling, "we turn to the
Muse for ethereal sustenance of our common clay." He
shook his head. "I don't know. Justin doesn't have a

I09|

muse and it doesn't seem to bother him. No doubt Mars
runs a better kitchen than Calliope."

They were all hungry, though Stock suffered most
from it. The company had become victims of their own
success- In the weeks following Rim's message and their
hasty move westward, Justin's operations had gone be-
yond his best hopes. He and the Monkey had worked
out a new plan of action.

"Florian said we must be a wolf pack." Justin had
called his officers together as soon as they had settled,
for the moment, in the heavy woodlands some leagues
above Eschbach. "So we shall be," he added, "but not
a single pack. Several,"

Now, instead of attacking in full force, Justin divided
the company into raiding parties of three or four.
Nights, he sent them by turn to harry the Regian col-
umns, roving the valley, striking where least expected.
Their targets, were not the soldiery but the packhorses
and draft animals, which they maimed or hamstrung.
The Monkey explained that the loss of a horse or mule
caused more damage than the loss of a man.

The raiders, unable to carry off large amounts of pro-
visions, settled for putting the torch to the wagons or
slashing open food sacks and scattering the contents.
They brought back, when possible, fodder for their own
animals, powder and shot for their weapons; the forays
seldom allowed them time to lay hands on rations for
themselves.

Justin was delighted; his only disappointment, the
shortage of ammunition for his cannon. The fieldpiece
now stood unused in the camp. The company, how-
ever/ suffered no serious casualties.

110}

The Regian detachments, by way of reply, took their
own measures. Deprived of army stores, foraging par-
ties scoured the countryside, stripping villages and
farms of food and livestock. Failing to check Justin's
raids, they continued their reprisals. Villagers were
hanged or shot, their bodies left as warnings.

The company, as a result, increased its numbers as
men and women fled the villages and came to join them.
Justin welcomed them, declaring that the Regians had
become his best recruiting officers.

The more he added to his troop, however, the more
mouths there were to feed- The Monkey, in charge of
the rations, doled them out like a miser with his gold.
Justin was always on hand when his people were fed,
but he touched none of his portion until the others had
eaten. Once, a bitter argument broke out between the
Monkey and one of the new arrivals, who claimed the
Monkey had given a larger share to Rosana. The two
men had come close to blows when Justin strode up.
They fell silent immediately.

"If you're that hungry," Justin. said to the protester,
"here, put this in your belly and hold your tongue."
He handed his own ration to the man. "We fight Reg-
ians, not each other. Remember that. Or, next time," he
added flatly, "I'll hang you."

"\ wouldn't mind hanging—temporarily," Stock later
told Theo. "It might keep me from wanting to swallow
something. Tightening my belt doesn't answer. Tight-
ening my gullet might help."

Justin had sent the two of them that night to hold
one of the outposts. Stock grumbled at not going with
a raiding party.

"At least it would keep my mind off my dinner. Or
the lack of it."

The poet was too gloomy even to amuse himself with
his saga. "You're lucky, being an artist. You can draw
yourself a feast, then stand back and admire it; whereas
all ! can do is think about it."

Theo put a finger to his lips. He had heard a rustling
in the underbrush. Stock readied his musket, then
heaved a sigh of relief- It was only the Monkey. The
man, Theo realized, had not come from the direction of
the camp.

"1 could have shot you for a Regian," said the poet.
"You rascal, what have you been up to?"

Theo noticed that the Monkey carried a sack under
his arm. Hunger had sharpened not only Theo's appe-
tite but his sense of smell. Stock, too, was sniffing like
a foxhound.

"I fancied a little walk along the bottomland," said
the Monkey. He opened the sack. "You're good fellows.
I don't mind going shares, though ! did all the work for
it. Here, it's a gift from one of the farms. A chicken,
some eggs, bread and cheese—"

"Gift?" retorted Theo. "That's most of a week's food
for them."

"They'd have given it gladly," said the Monkey,
winking, "if I'd waked them up to ask. We're fighting
their war for them, aren't we? Fair's fair. It can sit bet-
ter in my belly than anywhere else."

"You stole it," returned Stock. 'That's despicable,
Monkey. No, don't worry. I won't say anything to Jus-
tin. Not this time."

"Captain's a fine officer," said the Monkey. "He takes

H2]

good care of us, but once in a while we have to take
care of ourselves."

"Go back to camp," said Stock. "Stuff yourself if you
like/ so long as 1 don't have to watch you do it."

The Monkey delved into his sack and brought out a
handful of food. "Here, just among the three of us."

"Go to the devii," said Stock. "I don't want any part
of your stealing. I'd be as much a thief as you."

Theo left them abruptly and walked a little distance
into the brush. The smell of the food had been unbear-
able. Stock had been right to refuse. He admired the
poet for it; he did not trust himself.

He expected the Monkey to be gone when he came
back. The Monkey was still there, squatting on a hum-
mock, the sack between his feet. The poet sheepishly
wiped the crumbs from his mouth.

"Plenty left," said the Monkey.

Theo bit his lips. Stock said nothing. Theo turned to
the Monkey.

"Give it here."

(U3I

11

The guard raised his musket. "Keep off the bridge- No-
body crosses without papers. Do you have any? You
might be a couple of Regian spies for all I know- In
which case: Bang, bang! And that's the end of you."

Sparrow had no interest in spies or papers. She asked
again where to find the war-

The guard thought himself a witty sort of fellow.
Being questioned by a pair of young fools who were no
danger to him, he decided to amuse himself at their
expense; sentry duty was a boring occupation. He
scratched his chin.

"That depends on which you're looking for."
"Is there more than one?" asked Sparrow.
"You don't suppose we'd go to all this trouble if there
wasn't."

"The biggest, then," said Sparrow. "The best."
"Ah, well, there's a fine big one this very moment
between some of my company and a pack of tavern
scroungers. You drop in at the King's Crown, you'll find
all the war you'd ever want. Tell them I sent you."
Sparrow took Weasel's arm and hustled him off in

the direction of the port. "He doesn't know anything
about the war- Not even where it is."

"Keller does go to taverns a lot," suggested Weasel

"No. That guard was a blockhead. That's why they
left him behind."

"Good. It serves him right," said Weasel- "I stole his
watch."

Sparrow halted long enough to give Weasel a shak-
ing- "Wretch! You're not to be a thief anymore. Shame
on you- What would Keller say?"

"I only did it," complained Weasel, "in case KeUer
wanted to know what time it was."

The port was home ground to the pair. The former
water rats knew every dock and landing stage. Weasel
forgot his reprimand and sniffed the portside reek with
delight. Sparrow pressed on, leading him to one of the
smaller piers, where several rowboats bobbed on the
eddies. Sunset had thrown the pier into shadow. Spar-
row glanced around. Satisfied she was unobserved, she
ordered Weasel into the first boat, untied the mooring
line, and jumped after him.  ''

"What are you doing?" cried Weasel.

"Crossing the river, what do you think?" replied
Sparrow, bending to the oars. "The war's got to be over
there somewhere. That fool might try to shoot us if we
go by the bridge. This way's easier."

"You're stealing," Weasel said indignantly. "After
what you told me."

"I'm not," said Sparrow. "Didn't you hear the speech
in the square the other day? We all have to make sac-
rifices. Whoever owns this boat is making a sacrifice.
I'm helping him do it."

With that. Sparrow doubled her efforts at the oars.

[1t5\

Leaving the craft on the other side of the Vespera,
the two trudged eastward until well past nightfall,
sometimes following a road, sometimes cutting across
the fields. Sparrow's plan was simple: to keep the
straightest tine possible, confident it would lead sooner
or later to Keller. After a few hours, however. Weasel
turned cranky, protesting that his feet and belly both
ached. Sparrow was also hungry. She had calculated that
the food from Madam Bertha's larder would easily tide
them over a couple of days. She and Weasel ate it all at
one sitting.

"Never mind," said Sparrow. "That makes less we
have to carry."

They slept the rest of the night under a hedge. In the
morning they were lucky enough to get a ride in a cart
and, soon after, unlucky enough to be discovered by
the driver, who unpatriotically chased them off.

For the next few days, they fared reasonably well, ex-
cept for Weasel's blisters. Barns, woodsheds, stables
existed for the purpose of sheltering them. Sparrow gave
her brother temporary permission to commandeer
whatever victuals he found unattended.

"It's not really stealing," Sparrow assured him "It's
to help us get to the war."

"I don't understand," said Weasel, nevertheless glad
to oblige. "Stealing is stealing."

Sparrow did not deign to answer.

The following day, they discovered the army. So
Sparrow judged from the field of white canvas tents.
She had never seen so many horses and wagons; or so
many uniformed men, for the most part doing nothing
comprehensible. She ran to the nearest, a bearded fel-

[116

low with a pipe between his teeth. He was sitting on a
keg, his tunic undone, his bare feet stretched out in
front of him. He was busy greasing his boots. He wore
sergeant's insignia, which meant nothing to Sparrow.
She strode up to him.

"Where's Keller?"

"Keller who?" The sergeant eyed her. "And who are
you? Where the devil did you come from?"

"Keller," Sparrow insisted. "Everyone in Marianstat
knows him."

"That's a good reason I never heard of him, since I'm
not from Marianstat."

"Are you going to the war?"

The sergeant grimaced "No way out of it, is there?"

Sparrow was amazed that he seemed less than eager,
but she had her own business to attend.

"Where's Florian, then? Keller's with him."

"Florian?" exclaimed the sergeant. "You keep dear of
that one. He's a caution."

"That's what everybody says."

"He may be right, he may be wrong. It's no affair of
mine, I do what I'm told. But he's got half the country-
side stirred up. It wouldn't surprise me too much if we
ended fighting him instead of the Regians. You get
home, wherever that is. You leave the war to us."

The presence of two young people in camp had drawn
the amused attention of the rest of the platoon. They
crowded around Sparrow and Weasel as if they were
remarkable curiosities. The soldiers offered them food,
which Sparrow carefully put away. One of them pro-
duced a drum and a pair of sticks and showed Weasel
how to beat a tattoo.

Weasel was aglow. One of the men set a cap on Wea-
sel's head, which thrilled him all the more- He rattled
away at the drum. The soldiers laughed and told him
he could stay and be their drummer. For the briefest
moment. Weasel's allegiance was sorely tried.

"Do you think," he ventured to ask Sparrow, "we
could stop here awhile? We'll find Keiler afterwards."

Sparrow was not lured by uniforms or drums. She.
finally pulled Weasel away, and they set off again. By
day's end, she realized she had come into possession
of a secret she had no intention of sharing with her
brother. Had she been in the maze of inlets at the mouth
of the Vespera, she could have navigated eyes shut.
Now, out of her element, she admitted to herself what
she dared not admit to Weasel: She had no idea where
she was going.

Keller had .looked in the right places, not expecting
the right places to be so easily found. Florian's activi-
ties and whereabouts were no longer hidden. The jour-
nalist, leaving Marianstat, had invested in a horse, not
wishing to rely on public coaches. After little more than
a week, it would have cost him much effort not to find
Florian's headquarters, near Altus-Birkenfeld on the
south side of the Vespera.

Florian, in a weather-stained blue greatcoat, was at a
field desk in front of his tent when Keller was escorted
to him. Several officers sat with him; the journalist rec-
ognized only the aubum-haired young woman, Zara.

Florian greeted him warmly and presented him to the
others, adding to Keller, "You see us in better case than
last time we met. Dr. Torrens was with you then. He

[118

commented unfavorably on the extent of our arsenal.
Things have changed remarkably, wouldn't you say?
Torrens, of all people, is helping to equip us."

"i can hardly believe it's by his own choice."

"No. By command of the queen," said Florian. "\ have
a warrant, in her own hand, commissioning me to lead
irregular troops in support of her own army. In fact,
she's given me the equivalent rank of general." Florian
laughed. "But never mind that. We are all civilians here
and pay little attention to such things.

"Our work is very simple," he went on. "We get our-
selves killed, although we try to do that as little as pos-
sible. When the Regians invaded, they expected no
resistance. They did not come in great strength. The
queen was able to stop them at the Alma when she
destroyed the bridge. We're holding them there, keep-
ing them from fording the river—a costly operation for
us. But it has allowed Augusta to regroup her own
forces, to play for time until the nearby garrisons join
her. The Regians, you can be sure, will order in rein-
forcements. Heaven help us if they manage to cross the
Alma. Augusta will have a rather formidable army to
face. So shall we. As'her front-line troops, we'll bear
the brunt of it."

Keller had wanted to speak privately with him, but
Florian insisted on first taking him on an inspection
tour. Florian swung onto a white mare and he and the
journalist, on his own horse, set off through the en-
campment.

Word of Florian's approach raced ahead. In workaday
clothes, red ribbons around their sleeves or red cock-
ades in their hats, Florian's people crowded to cheer

("91

him, pressing so closely the horses could scarcely make
their way.

Some stretched out their hands, eager to touch his
stirrup iron, or the skirt of the old blue greatcoat which
had become as famous as its owner-
Once they were alone, Keller told Florian what had
happened since their last meeting and why he had
come.

"Old Kasperi honors us," Florian said, "but if you're
here because you feel some obligation to me, I must,
with all thanks, refuse. There is no debt- If you insist
there is, then I hereby cancel it.

"No one is here out of obligation," he added, "unless
it is out of obligation to what we believe in. Brother-
hood, freedom, justice—there's a good chance, my
friend, of turning these words into the facts of our lives;

indeed, into something the world has never seen be-
fore."

"Even under the monarchy?" asked Keller. "Torrens
is a good man and a good friend; but he has begun
taking steps, with noblest intentions, that may turn the
monarchy back into a tyranny. I can't sit by and watch.
That's one reason I've come here."

"What happens to the monarchy makes little differ-
ence in the long run. It must fall, sooner or later, one
way or another. Here and now, we make a new begin-
ning. If you believe that, I welcome you."

"Old Kasperi finds it-easier to laugh than to believe,"
replied Keller. "I appall myself to find that now I wish
to believe. Try to, in any case. A deplorable lapse, and
one I may come to regret. You say I owe you nothing.
Perhaps I owe something to myself."

120 f

"I can find some useful place for you on my staff."

"I decline the honor," said Keller. "Old Kasperi may
be a public figure, his creator prefers to be a private
soldier- It seems more appropriate."

"As you please," Florian said after a few moments,
"though I don't relish Old Kasperi putting himself at
nsk. We can hardly afford to lose him."

"I was as much at risk in the days of the unlamented
Cabbarus," Keller said. "That doesn't trouble me, now
that my water rats are safe and sound."

Sparrow's rations did not outlast the day. She had
given most of them to Weasel. Toward sundown, she
began casting about for food and shelter. She sighted a
crowd of men and women heading across a field. They
were day laborers, tenant farmers, and peasants. Most
carried the common tools of their trade, pitchforks and
scythes, axes and rakes.

Seeking one war. Sparrow had stumbled into an-
other. To many of the country folk, the enemies were
not Regians but local landlords "and masters of the great
estates. The tenantry, for years, had labored without
pay on their master's private roads, had been cheated
of even their meager share in the harvests. Their houses
had been torn down for lack of a few months' rent; the
women had gone begging on the roads while their men
poached game on the hunting preserves, to be flogged
or hanged if they were caught. The Regian invasion had
been a match set to a powder keg.

Sparrow tugged at one man's sleeve and asked where
they were going. He gave an answer that meant little to
her.

[12-1]

"LaJoUe."

"Is there anything to eat there7"

"More than you've seen in your life."

This was all Sparrow needed to hear Clutching Wea-
sel's hand, she slipped through the crowd, eager to be
among the first arrivals. She could hardly believe there
would be food enough to go round, and she was deter-
mined to have her portion

They moved past a pair of iron gates that had been
broken and were hanging lopsided from their hinges
The crowd quickened its pace, streaming across garden
beds and gravel walkways. The house was the biggest
that Sparrow had ever seen, except for the Juliana. A
number of people were halted before a wide expanse of
stone steps. Many held torches. She pushed her way to
the front rank.

The house itself was dark, but in the torchlight Spar-
row glimpsed the faces of servant women peenng from
the casements. Half a dozen men stood at the door- One
held a light fowling piece. He was shouting at the mob
to go away.

"Stand aside, Otho," someone shouted back. "Let us
in, you won't be hurt."

The man did not move. Some of the farmers had
drifted to the far side of the house. Sparrow heard glass
shatter. One of the outbuildings had started blazing.
Horses whinnied in the stables. At this, Otho, the man
with the fowling piece, seemed uncertain what to do
A couple of the grooms and stableboys with him ran
toward the commotion in the rear of the courtyard. The
crowd pressed forward- The man pointed his weapon.

A stone flew through the air and smashed one of the

IJ221

casements. The man suddenly fired. The report was a
trivial snapping sound. One of the farm laborers stag-
gered back, cursing and holding his arm An angry
murmur ran through the crowd. As Otho prepared to
reload, someone threw a pitchfork at him. The tines
struck him full in the chest- He dropped his gun and
sat down, staring at the pitchfork and fumbling to pull
it out. One of the servants tried to drag him into the
house, but gave it up and plunged after his fellows,
who had already fled through the door.

Weasel, during his career as a scavenger, had calmly
dealt with any number of dead bodies, but never one
that had been killed before his eyes. For some reason,
he burst out crying Sparrow gritted her teeth. She
wanted food.

Weasel, to make matters worse, had begun throwing
up. By the time Sparrow attended to him, the crowd
had forced the doors and were inside .Weasel tned to
hang back, but she dragged him in after her.

She had no idea where to find the kitchen. The grand
hall was filled with people hacking at the paintings on
the wall and chopping at the furniture. Some had seized
whatever objects they could carry and were running
from the house.

Sparrow stumbled on, not daring to let go of Weasel,
who was bawling and blubbering. The kitchen, by the
time she reached it, had been ransacked. The doors of
the larder had been smashed open, most of the con-
tents scattered along with the pots, pans, and utensils.
A cook and a scullery maid lay in the midst of it. She
knelt and tried to scoop up what eatables remained,
urging Weasel to do likewise.

123

Until then. Sparrow had been undaunted Now she
screamed and turned away She put her wnst to her
mouth and bit down hard Among the broken victuals
lay a hand like a large white spider

She was terrified of spiders

"The Muse is a faithless wench," said Stock "If she
wants no more of me, I want no more of her Let her
go to the devil "

The poet glumly swatted one of the stinging flies that
swarmed in the camp as the weather had grown
wanner He took a sheaf of grubby papers from his
)acket "Do you remember, once we talked about
knights and paladins7 I actually started writing some-
thing of that sort, you know It began splendidly I was
going to show you when I finished Since I can't finish,
I hereby renounce it "

He made as if to tear up the pages Theo pulled them
away "That's nonsense I'll keep them for you Tomor-
row, you'll change your mind You'll be glad to have
them back "

"I doubt it " Stock, nevertheless, protested no further
when Theo tucked the pages into his own )acket but
only added, "My inspiration has fled I simply don't
feel that way anymore Take those wretched stanzas if
you like, )ust promise you won't read them "

{1251

The poet had not said a word about the stolen food
since the night the Monkey brought it; nor had Theo.
The Monkey had made other forays after that. It had
become taken for granted. Theo wondered ifJustin knew.
He suspected he did

More questionable, to Theo, was the next harvest. As
far as he could see, there would be none. The fields had
been neither plowed nor sown. In the outlying farms,
the Regians had broken into stores of seed corn- The
farmers themselves, in some cases, had destroyed their
own grain rather than see it fall into Regian hands.

He spoke about it to Justin, who seemed untroubled.
"We'll manage," he toid Theo- "Everything will be dealt
with. It's not your concern."

Justin's face had lost flesh; the cheekbones jutted
sharply, the scar stood out like a piece of rope. "I've
planned for whatever happens."

He did not say what those plans were. Theo did not
raise the question again and finally put it out of his
mind. Autumn was the distant future. Everything was
distant except the camp itself, the ground he slept on,
and the reek of his own body. The woods had come
into full, rich foliage; he was glad of it only because it
gave better concealment. As much as he thought of
Mickie, and often dreamed of her, she was in a differ-
ent, remote world. He had no idea what she was doing.

He had to believe she was safe.

He tried not to wonder if she still thought of him.

Luther had not come back. There had been no word
from FIorian, and few messages from Rina in Eschbach.
Lack of information on the Regian troop movements
hampered the raids. Often, the marauders were fought

[726]

off and forced to withdraw, having done little damage,
returning empty-handed. Justin hoarded what ammu-
nition remained for his cannon and did not order the
gun into action.

Their fortunes, early in July, took a turn for the bet-
ter. Stock, leading one of the raiding parties, came back
exultant. His face was bright with sweat. Even before
reporting to Justin, he could not resist crowing to Theo.

"Magnificent! You should have seen us- Not a man
lost on our side- Those Regian pigs—we did in the lot
of them. Most, anyway. We got half the supply train,
too. If I'd had more people, I'd have taken it all." He
added, under his breath, "Don't tell Justin, but it was
a lucky accident. We just happened to stumble on
them."

The poet laughed and clapped his hands. Theo had
never seen him so gleeful, even when he had finished
a sonnet.

The company celebrated and stuffed themselves. Jus-
tin commended Stock before the whole troop The
Monkey watched, grinning happily, nodding at Stock
with approval, as if he and the poet had been accom-
plices-
Next day/ the Regians burned one of the villages in
reprisal. Theo saw it with his own eyes. Justin, who
had not yet allowed Theo on a raiding party, continued
to use him as a scout. On that day, Theo had offered to
go into the village itself and try to leam what he could.

His offer proved useless. By the time he came within
half a mile, he saw the smoke. He pressed on, not un-
derstanding at first what had happened. Closer, he
halted on a ridge overlooking the valley. Some of the

127}

buildings were already aflame. Figures in uniforms were
herding the villagers into the open fields; from the dis-
tance, they all looked very small. The smell of burning
wood and thatch drifted up to the ridge. He watched
for a time, then did the only thing possible: He turned
around and went back.

"The Regians are fools," Justin said, when Theo
reported to him. 'The more of this sort of business, the
more these country folk will be up in arms. Yes, we can
expect some new volunteers."

"What about the rest? The old people, the children?"

"They'll make do," Justin answered. "In any case,
they can't help us much."

As )ustm foretold, a handful of villagers later made
their way to the camp, though not as many as he had
hoped. The Regians had hanged several, a few had been
shot resisting the soldiers. Justin was disappointed.

Newcomers, by now, outnumbered the original com-
pany. At the beginning, Justin had known every one of
his troop by name. Now there wire too many, and
sometimes he was uncertain even of the names of the
officers he appointed. He occasionally went through the
camp, stopping to talk with some of them. More often
he stayed apart and saw only his staff-

Theo feared that Justin's aloofnfess would dampen the
company's spirits. It surprised him when the contrary
happened. The newcomers, some of whom had rarely
spoken face to face with Justin, talked of him with a
kind of awe as they sat around their cook fires.

The Monkey, who had always called Justin "Cap-
tain" addressed him now as "Colonel," so glibly and
naturally that Justin never noticed the change; Or, if he
did, he said nothing about it.

128

Stock had caught a Regian: a young corporal of infan-
try, rawboned and ruddy-faced, who would have looked
more comfortable in a farm laborer's clothing than in
his disheveled uniform. Stock had laid hold of him on
the spur of the moment. His raiding party had set fire
to a supply tent; the man had suddenly appeared. The
burly poet had jumped on him and, with the help of
his marauders, hauled him^away at the end of a rope,
making him run to keep up with them. The corporal,
despite his ordeal, was only a little more begrimed and
breathless than his captor.

"I only took him because 1 thought he might tell us
something," the poet said to Theo. "The fellow's a non-
commissioned officer, after all. He has to know what
those pigs are up to. Come on, let's see what Justin
makes of him."

He hustled his prize to Justin's tent. The Regian, his
hands still bound, stood awkwardly. He looked as if he
wanted to sit down.

Justin began questioning hnn sharply about supply
trains and ammunition stores. The corporal frowned, a
little bemused, and shook his head- Apparently, he
could not speak the common language, for he answered
in a broad peasant dialect that was barely understand-
able. Justin, who had caught less than half a dozen
phrases, repeated his questions. The man grinned good-
naturedly. It was clear he understood Justin no better
than Justin understood him, and it seemed to strike him
as humorous. The Regian glanced around, smiling and
shrugging his shoulders.

"Let me try," said Theo. "Up north, in my province,
the peasant accent isn't too much different." He turned
to the Regian and, with some difficulty, rephrased what

{129}

Justin had asked. At this, the corporal babbled out such
a spate of patois that Theo motioned him to go slower.

"It's a new regiment," Theo explained to Justin. "They
haven't been here long. They were ordered in a few
days ago."

"Good," said Justin. "He'll have seen new supply
trains from the Col."

"I asked him. He says not."

"\ don't believe him. All right, then. What's his reg-
iment planning to do?"

"He doesn't know that, either," said Theo/ after lis-
tening closely to the corporal's answer.

"Tell him he's a liar."

The Regian had understood the tone of Justin's reply
if not the words, and blurted a hasty protest that also
sounded half-apologetic. He seemed eager to please, but
did not know how.

Justin struck the man in the face- The soldier stum-
bled back and lost his balance. The Monkey, who had
come into the tent during this, hauled him to his feet.
The Regian's nose was bleeding, but he continued to
smile as if it had all been an unhappy misunderstand-
ing. Spitting and clearing his throat, he muttered rap-
idly to Theo.

"I don't think he does know anything," said Theo.
"He swears he'd tell you if he did. 1 believe him."

"I don't," said Justin. "Take him out. Keep at him.
He's trying to make fools of us."

"Let me have him," put in the Monkey, as Theo and
Stock led the man from the tent. In spite of Theo's pro-
test, the Monkey collared the prisoner and marched him
into the woods. Theo would have followed. Stock held
him back.

"Let be," said the poet. "It's not up to you now."

"The Monkey won't do better," Theo said angrily.
"To the devil with the whole business."

The Monkey came back after a time. He was alone.
"You were right," he admitted to Theo. "He didn't
know more than what he told you. I'm satisfied of that
now. Nothing to be had. I let him go."

"What?" cried Stock. "You fool!"

"Well, then," answered the Monkey, "let's say I re-
leased him."

The Monkey hitched up his belt and went off to re-
port to Justin. Stock kicked at a tuft of weeds.

"I'm sorry I brought him in."

"Yes. I am, too."

The poet grimaced. "Damned waste of time."

Stock was kilied a week later.

To make up for the useless prisoner. Stock had pro-
posed to capture a better one. With Rosana and a few
others, the poet offered to make a foray that night into
one of the Regian command posts."

"We'll go at it very fast," said Stock. "Go in, get out
in a hurry. This time, we'll try for an officer. Who
knows, with luck we might even gobble up a general."

Justin did not approve at first. The poet, caught up
in his own enthusiasm, insisted- He reminded Justin
how bad!y they needed information. In the end, Justin
agreed.

"If you botch it, though," he warned, "you'll answer
to me. Lose any of your people, i'll court-martial you."

Justin laughed then, but Theo could not be certain
whether or not he was in earnest.

Theo urged Stock to take him along. The poet re-

131}

fused. "It's not that I don't want to," Stock assured him.
"But Rosana and the others—we're used. to each other,
you see." He grinned. "I mean to do something even
the Monkey couldn't pull off."

The party set off at nightfall, expecting to be back
within a day. Two days passed without a sign of them.
This in itself was not unusual; some of the parties had
stayed out longer. But later one of the outposts reported
firing from the bottomlands below the camp.

Theo had never seen Justm so agitated. Until then,
Theo had imagined that Justm cared more for the can-
non than for any individual. It was not altogether true.
Justin was fonder of the poet than Theo had supposed.

Though tt was broad daylight, Justin ordered the
Monkey to form a party and set off immediately. Justin
himself led them. Given no orders one way or the other,
Theo rode with them. Justin did not seem to notice he
was there.

The Monkey, who had gone some way ahead, turned
his mount He whistled through his teeth and beck-
oned to Justin. They rode into a clearing. The Monkey
had already dismounted.

Theo jumped down from his mare. What looked like
a side of beef had been propped against a tree trunk.
The eyes were open, staring at him. The mouth seemed
full of red mud. It took him several moments to realize
it was Stock.

Theo grew aware of the Monkey cursing endlessly and
monotonously. He paid no attention. Something should
be done about Stock's body; this seemed a, matter of
great importance. He stood for what he felt was a long
time, considering what would be best. Rosana and the

others in Stock's party lay awkwardly about the turf.
Like the poet, they had been stripped and badly cut
up. The Monkey was giving some kind of instructions
about burying them.

Justin had come beside him. His face was white, the
scar working and twitching. He was talking, as far as
Theo could understand, about animals.

It was, Theo found, an odd topic. He finally grasped
that Justin meant Regians. They should, Justin was say-
ing, be punished for all this. Theo agreed. He offered
to do it.

Justin said Theo had no stomach for what was nec-
essary. He also suggested that Theo was a coward, and
had shown this at Nierkeeping. Theo, a little hurt, as-
sured him it was not the case. He offered to prove it.
He explained his thought to Justin. He wanted the
Monkey and some others to go with him. They would
find who had done it. To Theo, it seemed that he and
Justin were discussing the question calmly, in an in-
tense but reasonable conversation.

They were, in fact, screaming at "each other.

Justin, at last, told him he could have the Monkey,
half a dozen of the newcomers, but no more than four
of the seasoned troopers.

"I don't want prisoners taken," Justin said- "Not this
time."

"No," said Theo. "No prisoners."

It was, Theo considered, generous of Justin, and he
thanked him. His desire had become very narrow and
simple: to kill everyone wearing a Regian uniform; fail-
ing that, as many as possible. It seemed a modest and
sensible goal-

[133

He was not sane enough to realize he had gone
somewhat mad; he had only gone mad enough to be-
lieve himself completely sane.

^ PART III 2%

THE KESTREL

13

u^. I "^ -yu

King Constantine was playing with tin soldiers in a
sandbox. The small, beautifully crafted figures repre-
sented his own units of cavalry, foot, and artillery; an-
other set, the Westmark detachments, to the extent that
General Erzcour and the Regian staff had been able to
determine them. Constantine also had two special and
slightly taller figures: himself and Queen Augusta.

The sandbox, as large as the war map set up on one
side of the tent, had been sculpted to show a miniature
Westmark. Little artificial forests spread over the con-
toured hills, the rivers had been painted bright blue. It
was a lovely piece of workmanship. Constantine had
already decided he would keep it permanently some-
where after the war ended.

His Majesty had chosen to wear the uniform of a
lieutenant of hussars, without decorations. The notion
of dressing like a serving officer of minor rank amused
him. This morning, however, the king had shed his
tunic, belt, and saber. It was too warm for such trap-
pings.

Duke Conrad fanned himself with a handkerchief.

1737]

Unlike his nephew, he observed the proprieties d>f royal
costume. He continued, in spite of the heat, to wear the
white-and-gold tunic that custom prescribed for royalty
in the field. He sighed and mopped his forehead-

"Do leave off, Connie," he said to his nephew.
"You've been at it all morning. It gets on my nerves. It
is a useless exercise."

"Yes, it certainly is," replied the king. He had been
contemplating moving some of his miniature brigades
closer to the A!ma, but changed his mind and left them
in position. "No substitute for the real thing. I don't
see why you won't let me visit the front. You said you
would."

"I said you should move your headquarters into
Mull," Conrad answered. "I stili say so. There, at least,
we should be decently housed. I cannot understand why
you insist on living in a tent, like some sort of Trebi-
zonian nomad."

"It's a fine tent," said Constantine. The royal pavil-
ion was, indeed, an elaborate structure. Of heavy can-
vas, with interior partitions, it had as many chambers
and antechambers as a suite of apartments. Constan-
tine's sleeping quarters and those of his uncle were at
the rear; the sandbox had been set on a table in the
spacious front area, which was furnished with field
desks and folding chairs. "We're soldiers in battle, aren't
we? I want to get used to the hardships of campaign-
ing. So, we must rough it in good spirit."

'Tents stink," said the duke. "It is their nature to
stink. All the more at this time of year."

"At this time of year," Constantine repeated wickedly.
"I didn't count on spending the summer here."

[138}

The king's remark was pointed not so much at his
uncle as at General Erzcour. who was bent over a stack
of reports at one of the field desks. The comment and
its barb did not go unnoticed. Erzcour stopped his work
and approached the king at the sandbox.

"Allow me to explain. Your Majesty," said Erzcour,
"that actual combat is the least part of any war- Time is
the great factor, whereas the engagement of troops—"

"Armies don't fight, then? I'd have thought other-
wise," broke in the king. "Unless you mean the Regian
army."

Erzcour reddened He had changed his former uni-
form for that of a Regian field commander, and it had
been ill tailored It chafed him under the arms, and he
was in no mood to be twitted by a boy, king or other-
wise. Nevertheless, he kept a gnp on his temper. Erz-
cour had given up any pretense of maintaining his rank
in the army of Westmark. He was now officially a mem-
ber of the Regian general staff, continually under the
eye of Duke Conrad. To squabble openly with the king
would make an unpleasant situation unbearable. He
decided to play schoolmaster.

"A battle, Your Majesty, is merely the culmination,
the climax of careful preparation, of thorough staff work.
The dull business of operahonal orders, transport, bag-
gage, rations. All this must be well in hand before so
much as a shot is fired. The first rule of warfare. Maj-
esty, is: Do not fight a battle until you are able to win
it."

"When do we do that?" demanded Constantine
"Damn it, Erzcour, we're bloody well not winning any-
thing at all."

[J391

Along with his moustache, the king Had been culti-
vating a soldierly manner of speaking. Neither ons had
provided him with satisfaction; both, despite his nur-
turing, had remained pale and thin.

He reached into the sandbox and picked up the fig-
ure of Augusta, looking at it with frank admiration.
"Beggar Queen, if you like; but I think she's a smash-
ing good general. She's in personal command, isn't she?
Yes, as I wanted to be and shouldn't have let you talk
me out of it. If things keep on as they are, I will take
command. I'm king, after all." He grinned. "Too bad
that Augusta didn't leave things to her own generals."

"I, too," said Conrad, "should appreciate knowing
why we have won nothing."

The duke felt testy. The heat was stifling and the flies
were abominable during the day; at night he shivered
on an uncomfortable camp bed. During such sleepless
hours, he gave considerable thought to Constantine. It
was an enormous temptation to let his nephew have
his way and inspect the Alma front; one of those night
thoughts he preferred not to bring into daylight.

He was glad, meantime, for the occasion to turn his
annoyance from Constantine to Erzcour "According to
our plans—that is to say, your plans—this affair should
have been over in a matter of weeks. Perhaps, General,
your strategy contained some little flaw?"

"Your Highness," replied Erzcour, stiffening, "my
strategy was perfect."

"Then we must reproach our enemy for not obedi-
ently doing their part correctly? Or did they not find it
so perfect?"

"There are unforeseen events in every war," said

[MO]

Erzcour. "1 confess. Your Highness, I was more shocked
and dismayed than yourself at the conduct of the West-
mark regiments. Their refusal to obey direct orders of
their superiors was a reprehensible breach of disci-
pline. Such gross insubordination is shameful. It is a
violation of their sacred oath as soldiers.

"Furthermore, the entry of irregular units is deplor-
able. This Florian is no better than a criminal. That
Queen Augusta should have any dealings with him I
find frankly detestable. I have only contempt for such
an action on her part. They are common cutthroats,
bandits. One gang of them in the Domitians recently
set upon one of our infantry companies. You have no
doubt seen the report. The atrocities practiced on
them—" Erzcour shook his head- "Not war. Your
Highness, butchery. I promise you they shall be repaid
in kind."

Erzcour went on, "As for the campaign in its broader
aspects, it is progressing well. There have been no stra-
tegic miscalculations, only tactical misadventures. The
art of the soldier is to accept them and rum them to his
advantage."

"Misadventures are expensive," said Conrad. "These
bandits, as you call them, not only strike at our supply
lines. They might as well have their fingers in our
treasury. Worse than cutting our throats, they're cost-
ing us money. The minister of finance is not pleased as
the minister of war demands larger funds. We should,
I think, give all those fellows commissions in our own
regiments. It would be cheaper to pay them than to fight
them."

Despite his sore temper. Duke Conrad could not help

[147

laughing at his own witticism. General Erzcour found
it less humorous.

"War," he replied, "is not an occupation for pau-
pers."

"Indeed it is not," said Conrad, "nor does Regia have
intention of becoming one. I keep a close eye on mili-
tary expenditures and recommend you do the same."

Talk of-money bored Constantine. He put back the
figure of Queen Augusta. "Shall we have some lemon-
ade?"

"Yes, Connie. Let us, for heaven's sake, have lem-
onade." The duke's uniform was damp with sweat,
thanks to his nephew and his general. "And some
sherbet."

He called an orderly. At the same time, one of the
aides came to report that Baron Montmollin had ridden
into camp and awaited His Majesty's pleasure.

"Send him in," said Conrad. "He's the only intelli-
gent man in this whole dismal business. He had sense
enough to take a house in Mull."

"He's not a soldier," said Constantine.

"He should be glad of that," said the duke.

Montmollin did not appear to have profited from
whatever comfort he enjoyed in Mull. He was as ele-
gantly dressed as ever, and barbered as well as could
be expected in the provinces. His gray eyes, however,
had gone deeper into their sockets, and the aristocrat's
face was an unhealthy color.

"Ah. Here is Montmollin come to cheer us up," said
Conrad. "We are having lemonade. Will you join us?
General Erzcour was about to tell us how to win the
war. I hope, at least, he was."

[142]

"Forgive me for interrupting him," said Montmollin.
He and Erzcour no longer spoke directly to each other
Montmollin had been firmly against the general's deci-
sion to join the Regian staff; on this/ there had been
hard words between them.

"It can be done quite simply," said Erzcour. "Your
Highness expressed concern over military expendi-
tures. We have an old saying in Westmark: Do not spoil
the ship for a pennyworth of tar."

"Yes, but we have already spent a great number of
pennies," replied Conrad, "and have had very little tar
for our money."

"We are at an extremely critical moment," said Erz-
cour. "Our forces will soon establish themselves firmly
on the west bank of the Alma. That I promise. It is
inevitable. They must, however, be strongly rein-
forced."

"What, you ask for more men?" returned Conrad.
"When we began, you assured me only a few regi-
ments would suffice."

"So it seemed at the time, said Erzcour. "Now,
nothing less than total commitment is required. Our
units must be brought up to full strength. They must
fight with the greatest severity against the enemy, and
apply the strictest possible measures to the civilian
population. Also, we must support our troops with in-
creased supplies. The cost will be high, but only in the
short run. As we shall thus end the war faster, in the
long run it will be cheaper.

"Given Regia's complete military resources," contin-
ued Erzcour, "I shall be able to apply a new strategy,
one that cannot fail."

[143

"I should like to know your new strategy before I pay
for it," said Conrad. "We have a saying: Never buy a
pig in a poke."

Erzcour glanced at the baron. "I shali explain it in
detail at our military council."

"War is not for civilians, eh?" said Conrad, a little
more cheerful now that the orderly had carried in a re-
freshment tray. "Good. I agree with you in principle.
We shall not hold back. I favor anything that will move
us forward. I should, indeed, be glad for anything that
would move us out of this tent." He turned to Mont-
mollin. "Dear Baron, can you not use all your charm
and persuasion upon Connie? Convince him. Baron, to
leave this canvas hotbed."

"Your Highness," said Montmollin, "I have come for
that express purpose."

"Bravo!" cned the duke. "High time. You listen to
him, Connie."

"More than leaving your tent. Majesty," said Mont-
mollin, "I urge you to leave Westmark altogether."

Constantine blinked at him. Duke Conrad chuckled
and raised his glass. "The baron has a delicious wit.
He is about to pronounce, surely, one of his epigrams.
We are waiting eagerly."

Until now. Baron Montmollin had been able to sum
up most of his opinions in a well-turned line. Of late,
this gift had left him. He regretted the loss. It had kept
the truth at a polite distance and made it more graceful.

The baron found nothing graceful in what he was
compelled now to say: "We began our endeavors in or-
der to save Westmark, not destroy it. The contrary is
happening, and it will worsen if General Erzcour is al-

144

lowed to continue. The damage that has already taken
place, the loss of life—these have gone far beyond our
intentions. The war must end here and now, or we shall
have no kingdom at ail."

The smile had frozen on Conrad's face. "That is your
fault, not ours- You assured us it would be a simple,
easy matter. We kept our part of the bargain/ did we
not? You did not keep yours. Now you seriously ask us
to withdraw? To have spent a fortune for no gain? My
dear Baron—"

"Keep as much of the country as you have already
occupied," said Montmollin. "Even that would be bet-
ter than devastating the rest of it."

"How generous you are," said Conrad. "Yes, we shall
most certainly keep that."

"As for the cost," said Montmollin, "to whatever de-
gree it may compensate, 1 am willing to offer the value
of all my personal holdings and resources. They are not
inconsiderable."

Conrad leaned forward. "I doubt very much, at this
point, that you have any fortune to offer. That you even
have a roof over your head. One of our very reliable
agents has reported that your estate—La Jolie. is it
not?—has been burned. You cannot be unaware of that.
You, naturally, have others. Whatever else may happen
to them, they will surety not be available to you.

"There have been certain new developments," Con-
rad went on. "I had not intended going into them now.
Since you raise the question, however, this is as good
a moment as any.

"] think. Baron, you made an error in refusing Cab-
barus a place on your council. He has, in consequence,

145}

devoted his services entirely to our interests. Connie
and I met with him not long ago. He reminded us of a
simple fact we had almost overlooked.

"My dear Baron, do you not understand? Sooner or
later, we would have invaded Westmark in any case.
Your plan suited our convenience. It might even have
been acceptable had it worked as you piomised- Since
it did not, we continue on our own. It is our war, not
yours. Prior agreements no longer apply. Your partici-
pation in any ruling council, of course, is also out of
the question."

Baron Montmollin had a quick intelligence, but it took
him several moments to absorb a sensation he had never
experienced: betrayal.

"We are not ungrateful," Conrad was saying. "We
shall release you as a hostage—which, indeed, you
never were. The best we can offer, however, is safe
conduct through our lines. Very little, true. On the other
hand, you gave us very little in exchange. Go home,
Baron. Wherever that may be."

Montmollin put down his glass- The lemonade had
been too cold, it had chilled him. His hands and feet
had gone icy and he felt unwell He turned to King
Constantine. It required an effort for him to speak
calmly.

"Does Your Majesty approve of this? Have you given
your consent to what is nothing short of dishonoring)
our cause, of breach of faith—"

"Oh, yes," said Constantine. "I think it's only good
sense. Don't you, really? Looking at it from our side?
Cabbarus is a disgusting creature, but his advice is very
sound. I'm sorry, Montmollin, but we have to do what's
best for ourselves, don't we?"

146

"Men of honor," said Montmollin, "Keep their word.
Constantine grinned at him. "Kings don't."

14

"There's a hawk." Justin pointed beyond the ridge.
High above, against the cloudless blue, the bird seemed
to hang motionless.

"It's a windhover," said Theo. "Kestrel, we call it in
Doming, where I come from." It was the first one he
had seen here. "It's hunting. They're small but very
quick. They scream before they kill."

Justin laughed. "Vicious little creatures."

"I think not. Animals aren't vicious. They only do
what they do."

He and Justin had ridden ahead to pick a new camp-
site. For two weeks, they had been continually moving.
Justin was anxious to get well out of the area. Since
Theo's attack on one of the Regian companies, several
punitive forces had been sent up- So far, Justin had
avoided them.

Theo reined in beside him. waiting. )ustin had
wanted to talk privately. The mare snuffled and tossed
her head. Theo watched the kestrel for a time as it
soared on the wind currents. In the higher reaches of

U8

the Domitians, the foliage had already begun a subtle
change of color. Summer would be short.

"He was a genius, you know," Justin said abruptly.
It was as if he had been holding a long conversation
with himself and had spoken the end of it aloud.

It startled Theo. It was the first time Justin had men-
tioned Stock. Theo had even begun to wonder if Justin
ever thought of him. FIorian, he remembered, said that
things dropped into Justin's mind and disappeared.
Then he realized he himself had not been able to talk
about Stock's death.

"The laureate of our cause," Justin said. "A great
poet."

"No." Theo had lost sight of the kestrel as it tacked
and sailed below the ridge. It had no doubt found
something. "No. He wasn't a great poet. He was a good
poet. He might have been better. That's the real loss,
don't you see?"

"He was our laureate of freedom," Justin insisted.

When Theo had come back from the raid, he and Jus-
tin had gone through Stock's belongings. There was
nothing worth sharing out among the company. To the
sheaf of works in various stages of completion, Theo
was about to add Stock's abandoned poem. Justin wanted
to read it, which he did. Although Theo told him Stock's
own opinion, Justin thought highly of it and kept it
aside for himself- The others, Theo tied up and packed
in his saddlebag.

While doing so, he suddenly noticed his hands. The
reddish crust under his torn fingernails puzzled him.
His boots had been blood-spattered; his breeches had
been soaked and were already dry and stiffening. He

149 I

could not imagine how anything had gotten under his
nails.

"You avenged a comrade," Justin was saying. "You've
done well. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I
can tell you now, I had my doubts. I wasn't really sure
you could. I'm glad to admit I was wrong. A good of-
ficer isn't afraid to do that, you know. Yes, and along
those lines: the question of my second-in-command."

Justin gave him his frank, boyish look "You mustn't
mind if I teH you—1 want to be clear on all this—I ap-
pointed the Monkey."

"Good. The best choice."

"Yes," Justin said "But he didn't want it. He really
didn't. I tried to convince him. He said it didn't suit
him. I suppose he'd rather not have the responsibility.
1 understand that. What I mean is, he was my first
choice- I won't hide that from you. Now I'll ask: Will
you be my second?"

"I don't care one way or the other. If that's what you
want, yes."

"Marvelous," said Justin. "It's settled." He took up
the reins. "Do you remember?" he added. "That day at
the mill, when Stock chose our names? I liked that. You,
I think, shall be—well, why not Kestrel?"

"As good as any." He remembered feeling left out
when Stock had chosen none for him. Now it made no
difference.

"I must get word to Florian," Justin said. "I'll report
what happened and that you've taken Stock's post."

"No. I don't want Florian to know that. Kestrel,
nothing more. No need for him to know who it is."

Justin shrugged. "As you please. Yes, I agree it would
be better that way."

[150]

A few weeks later, because of their growing number,
Justin divided the company in two. The larger detach-
ment he led himseif. The rest was Theo's command.
The Monkey, surprisingly, gravitated to Theo- He
showed no sign of resentment at Theo's new rank. If
anything, he looked on Theo with the pride and admi-
ration of a teacher for a favorite student. He even ad-
dressed Theo as Colonel, accepting him as being on
equal footing with Justin. The Monkey was an eager,
invaluable helper. Theo could not have done as well
without him.

It was the Monkey, Theo chose to believe, who had
started the terrifying screaming during the first raid after
Theo's promotion. Before dawn, approaching the Reg-
ian outpost, the men had been silent, walking their
horses, taking pains to keep their harnesses from jin-
gling- There was barely the creak of saddles- The sabers
had been oiled so as not to scrape when drawn. Theo
had ordered firearms to be used only as a last resort

Going into the attack, someone began a high-pitched
keening, not unlike a kestrel's. It spread, growing louder
until they were all doing it. an endless shriek, rising as
if from a single throat. Theo glimpsed the Monkey, teeth
bared, head flung back. At the time, he assumed it was
the Monkey who had started the war cry. Later, he could
not trust his recollection. It might have been anyone,
even himself.

From then on, they made a practice of it. No one or-
dered it; it seemed the most natural thing to do.

The early part of autumn continued bright and cool.
Then, for a time, the weather broke and there were days
of driving rain. For Theo, there were no days at all,
only periods of light and darkness- They might have

151

been years for all he knew or cared. Time had no
meaning for him, it had neither beginning nor end. He
was simply there, going about his work.

Against the sharp mountain wind, the men layered
themselves with as much clothing as they could sal-
vage. Some had stocking caps, others simply wrapped
cloths around their heads. Someone—probably the
Monkey—had given Theo a vest crudely cut from a
sheepskin. The fleece, untreated, smelted rank- He did

not notice it.

During late autumn, the company increased its num-
ber; not only with men from the nearby villages and
farms, but still more from considerable distances. They
brought with them accounts of burned houses, hang-
ings, shootings. To Theo, these had become common-
place. He barely listened to them. The men's faces were
all alike to him, as dirty and stubble-bearded as his
own. Some, he realized, were younger than the others;

to him, they looked like children. He vaguely recalled
he had been a child in Doming, but the memory car-
ried no weight. He was what he was now, and a
stranger in his own past.

He was Colonel Kestrel and had never been anything
else. As the newcomers arrived, many asked for him by
that name. Justin did not appear at all envious. He
seemed, on the contrary, to enjoy Kestrel's growing
reputation. The more ferocious Kestrel's raids, the more
they attracted new volunteers. Those who joined now
were different from the ones of earlier days: more des-
perate, more enraged; men already with a Regian price
on their heads; homeless, without family, and with
nothing left to lose. Kestrel suited them.

152

"What we'll be able to do, eh?" one of them said to
Theo. "After this is over, no matter how it comes out,
there'll be enough of us to make them all take notice.
Someday, then"—he slashed the edge of his hand across
his throat—"no more aristocrats, nor kings; nor queens
either, for that matter."

Theo did not answer him. He had just heard from
another newcomer t!iat in some villages the women
were now in the hac.it of whispering to their fretful
children: "Hush, hush! Or the big Kestrel will come eat
you."

Suddenly, to his surprise, he thought of something
he had told Florian at the mill. They had been talking
about Jacobus. The old scholar had written that people
were gentle by nature, and Florian asked if Theo be-
lieved that. Theo h?,ci answered that he did. It was, he
told Ftorian, the way he felt, and he was no different
from anyone else.

He wondered if he had told the truth then.

He was afraid that he had.

-

As autumn ended, Regian detachments forced a

crossing of the Aim. - The queen had retreated from

Carlsbruch. By the lime Theo learned this, it was old

news-
It h. ^ready happened, there was nothing he could

have clone about it.

1153 |

Colonel Witz and Count Las Bombas were in torment:

Witz, because he itched for a battle, yearned to fling
himself and his regiments against the advancing hordes
in one grand, heroic charge. Las Bombas had indiges-
tion.

Mickle decided to deal first with the more difficult.
The count, hunched over a bench in the farmhouse she
had taken for her newest headquarters, was complain-
ing as usual about the porridge.

"It's the army breakfast," she reminded him, "and
none of us, including my military adviser, will eat any-
thing different. We agreed on that. It's not so bad, you
know. It's better than the oatmeal they fed us when I
was in the Home for Repentant Girls."

"Lumps," grumbled the count. "More lumps than
porridge." He continued, nevertheless, to spoon it down
until he emptied the bowl. He turned his attention to
the biscuit, rapping it loudly on the bench. "Witz,
you've mixed ammunition with the rations. These
things are fatal."

154

"Keep chewing," advised Musket, squatting by the
fireplace. He had kept the saber commandeered at the
Alma and had since acquired a brace of pistols. Armed
to the teeth, he had so far used none of these weapons
but was eager to do so; he sided, therefore, with the
impetuous Witz. "You haven't lost any weight."

"Wind, my boy,"' said Las Bombas- "Nothing but
wind."

Leaving the count and Musket to their discussion,
Mickle took up the question of Witz. After Alma, the
devoted Witz had taken on himself the instruction of
his beloved sovereign. He had explained military or-
ganization and procedures, the deployment of troops,
the use of terrain, and the eternal paperwork. She had
absorbed it all. even more quickly than Torrens himself
could have expected.

Then she leaped beyond her teacher. Along with her
gifts of mimicry and ventriloquism, she discovered an-
other. A map, once studied, stayed in her mind- She
could summon it up whenever she chose. She told the
astonished Witz that it was only a mental trick, but it
merely increased his admiration for his commander-

What she foresaw would happen had happened. The
Regians had forded the Alma in strength, despite every
effort of Florian's people. With his irregulars as rear
guard, she had ordered a general retreat. Cold Judg-
ment told her that any other course would have brought
sure disaster.

The Regians wanted a pitched battle. She would not
give it. She had fallen back from Carlsbruch, refusing
to let her troops be shattered by Regian artillery, and
regrouped at AItus-Birkenfeld—Las Bombas observing

755]

that the name was bigger than the hamlet. By retreat-
ing, she had lost few supplies and saved her army. She
hoarded lives iike a miser.

Witz, however, despite his continuous calculations,
had thrown caution to the wind. He was in agony at
the constant retreating, though he knew it was militari-
ly sound. He wanted a battle, with himself leading the
charge. He believed it could be won.

"Beg to report," said Witz, "your troops, including
myself, are prepared to do or die."

"I'd rather you just do," said Mickle. "The point is
to have as little dying as possible. You, Colonel, I can
hardly spare."

Witz blushed, as he always did when his sovereign
addressed him so directly. He trotted after Mickle, who
had gone to the map table. He had still not lost hope
for a glorious sacrifice.

"We're not going to fight them here," Mickle said.
"Let them come on. The farther they advance, the longer
they stretch their supply lines. We retreat and shorten
ours. If they attack and we withdraw, we leave them
punching away at an empty sack. They bombarded
Carlsbruch—but we weren't there. They wasted am-
munition. We saved ours."

Las Bombas, still grinding on the biscuit, joined them.
"Excellent strategy. As an old campaigner, I'd be the
first to recommend meeting them head on, if I thought
we'd get anything from it. At the moment, Florian's
other people up in the Domitians are doing our work
for us. From all reports, they're playing the very devil
with our uninvited guests. There's a new commander,
too. Colonel Kestrel or some such; a real madman, a
bloodthirsty fellow, very good at his trade."

U56}

"Luther told me Theo was going to the Domitians."
Mickle stopped short. She had tried to keep her per-
sonal fears and feelings on one side of a barrier and the
war on another. The barrier often broke down.

"Don't worry," said Las Bombas. "He'U manage. He's
a lad of sense and caution: good qualities, at least in
these circumstances."

Mickle turned again to the map, though she knew it
by heart. She had, these past days, made her own pri-
vate calculations She wondered if Witz, despite his ea-
ger gallantry, had already done the same and if he had
come to the same answer. Las Bombas, she thought,
was shrewd enough to see it without need of arithme-
tic. Perhaps they both knew and dared not admit it to
themselves. Before the rest of her staff came, she de-
cided to speak her mind to the two closest to her-

"There's no way that I can see," she began, glancing
from Witz to the count, "there's no way we can do it
We can't win."

Witz looked stunned. Forgetting all forms of address
and courtesy even toward his queen, he burst into a
storm of protest. Mickle raised her hand.

"We can't win," she repeated. "Not as things stand.
We can hold them off, yes. We can stop them, but
we're not strong enough to drive mem out of the king-
dom."

Witz had fallen siient, chewing miserably on his
moustache. Cold rain had begun pattering against the
windows. It mixed with the distant rattle of musketry
Florian's skirmishers were busy. He would demand a
reckoning, Mickle knew very well. He had told her as
much. There were times when she would gladly have
turned over the whole command to him, and the throne

7571

into the bargain. Nevertheless, she went on as cheer-
fully as she could-

"That's one thing. There's another- If we can't win,
neither can the Regians-

"The days are drawing in," Mickle continued. "Win-
ter's coming. We'll be frozen in our tracks, both sides.
Then, next spring we'll all start again, and still be no
better off. 1 don't see how we can turn the tide against
them, and at the moment, I don't see how they can turn
the tide against us. Meantime, the country is ruined.
It's bad enough now. It can only get worse."

"I can't disagree," said Las Bombas, "but I don't know
what we can do."

"I do," said Mickle. "I'm going to end it."

"Surrender?" cried Witz, anguished. "Majesty—that's
out of the question! No, no, we can't—"

"I didn't say I was going to surrender," Mickle an-
swered. "I said I'm going to end it. I'm going to offer
peace terms."

"Majesty, that's the same thing."

"No, it isn't. I won't give them an inch of Westmark.
Why should they want it in the first place? If they stop
and think, they'll see it will be a hornet's nest for them,
with all the countryside against them. They'd never be
able to keep order. They should be glad to get shut of
it.

"But—I'm willing to give them something better: an
open border, so that anyone on either side can come
and go freely."

"A fair offer," said Las Bombas. "Hardly enough,
though- They won't settle for it."

"There's more. The Regian ports are small and

[158]

cramped. They don't have a good one. They've been
using ours for years, and paying heavy anchorage fees.
Well, now they can use it free. I have some other ideas
about trade and lowering custom tolls, but I'll save them
and have something to dicker about."

"Now, that's a good bargain," said the count, "and I
know one when I see it. By heaven, you might be on
to something."

"Majesty," pleaded Witz, "you can't give up all that.
Think of the honor of the kingdom."

"Honorable wreckage," said Mickle. "What I'm giv-
ing is only fair. The fact is, I was going to do it anyway,
as it should have been done long before. Of course,"
she added, "they don't have to know that. What mat-
ters is: The terms are splendid. They'd be fools to re-
fuse."

"There's where the trouble comes in," said Las Bom-
bas. "By the time the generals, the statesmen, and every
piddling courtier start picking at them—"

"I know all about that in the Juliana," said Mickle.
"That's why 1 won't have anything to do with them.
I'm going to make the offer to King Constantine him-
self."

The count snorted. "Constantine! He's only a boy,
hardly more than a child."

"Yes," Mickle said. 'That's why I expect he'll have
better sense than his generals and ministers. I'm going
to talk with him face to face."

"No chance of that," said Las Bombas. "According to
al! reports, his headquarters are near Mull- You won't
persuade him to come here."

"I don't intend to. I'm going there."

[1591

"Not much chance of that, either," said Las Bombas.
"You'll have to start with a flag of truce, then a formal
meeting with the commanding general, then his supe-
rior, and so on. Not to mention Duke Conrad and a few
dozen councillors. That's assuming all goes well. The
whole business could fall apart before it begins."

"I know that, too," said Mickle. "1 won't have any
business with them. I'll pass up the lot and go straight
to Mull. Constantine will see me, that I promise."

"Dear girl," said Las Bombas, "have you lost your
mind? Not possible! The valley's crawling with Reg-
ians, as we have good cause to know."

"Exactly why they won't notice me," said Mickle. "I'll
be wearing a Regian uniform."

She turned to Musket. "I'll count on you and some of
your friends to get one. How you go about doing it I
leave to you."

Colonel Witz, listening dumbstruck, at last found his
voice. "But—Your Majesty, forgive me, I must protest
in strongest possible terms. For you to attempt this alone
is, permit me to say, absolutely foolhardy."

"You're right," said Mickle. "While Musket's getting
a uniform for me, he'll get another for Count Las Bom-
bas."

The count sat down on the bench- "My dear girl, this
is not only lunacy, it's worth our necks. I was a fool to
take you out of Marianstat. I'd be a fool twice over to
let you try such a scheme. You'd never pull it off."

"With you I would," said Mickie. "You can bamboo-
zle anyone. You'll have no trouble as a Regian officer.
We'll be safer than we are here. You'll forge some sort
of documents and passes for us. Special emissaries or

160}

whatever. From what I've seen of military paperwork,
the more confusing the better. We'll get through. I have
every confidence in you."

"I can't say the same," replied Las Bombas. "No. This
time I won't do it."

"Your Majesty," put in Witz, "even if you reached
the king, there is nothing to stop him from seizing you
as a prisoner. Or, forgive me for suggesting it. execut-
ing you."

"Not likely," said Mictde. "Between monarchs, after
all, there has to be some kind of professional courtesy.
Very well, I admit there's a risk. My soldiers take risks
every day."

"Majesty," said Witz, "allow me to go in your place,
as your special envoy."

"It just wouldn't be the same. No, Colonel, it's my
errand and I'll do it myself."

"Then," said Witz, "beg to request permission: I shall
go with you."

"I can't spare you. I need you here in command.
You're to hold your position, if it's at ail possible. Fall
back if you must. Under no circumstances are you to
give battle or do anything foolhardy." She smiled at
him. "Leave that to me."

"This is highly irregular," Witz declared. "Military
regulations say nothing about a monarch disguised as
an enemy soldier; but they certainly forbid a colonel to
command an army."

"I almost forgot," said Mickle. "You've been made a
general. Congratulations."

She kissed him soundly on both cheeks. Witz turned
crimson- While he continued sputtering protests, Mickle

[76;

called out to Musket/ "You, Thumbling, get a move
on. I need that uniform."

Las Bombas took the dwarf by the arm. "While you're
at it"—he sighed miserably—"you might as well get one
for me- Try to find one that fits."

Musket disappeared for the rest of the day and all
that night. Next morning, he was back again, proudly
displaying two Regian uniforms. Mickle did not ask
how he got them and the dwarf volunteered no an-
swers, remarking only that there were now a pair of
naked and chilly Regians in the enemy lines.

Las Bombas was dissatisfied. He had resigned him-
self to Mickle's plan, but found his costume unaccept-
able. "You might have gotten something larger in the
waist/" he complained to the dwarf, "and not so wide
in the shoulders."

"Make do," retorted Musket. "I'm your coachman, not
your tailor."

"Impudence," muttered the count. "It's the war.
There's no respect for anything."

Mickle had dressed herself as a Regian sub-lieuten-
ant. She had removed her royal signet ring and hung it
around her neck under her tunic. "This will do nicely,"
she told the count. "I'll be your aide, and you'll do all
the talking until we get to Mull."

"Blast that Musket," grumbled the count. "He's made
me only a captain. He could have been thoughtful
enough to rob a major."

To make up for it. Las Bombas rummaged through
his chests and pinned on an assortment of medals and
ribbons. He had, meantime, put the final touches on
an array of false documents.

[162]

"With those papers and all your decorations," Mickle
said, "\ shouldn't wonder if they gave us a guard of
honor the whole way to Mull."

"Yes"—the count sighed—"and straight up against the
nearest wall."

The rain had stopped; a cold mist had settled over
the countryside. Mickle was grateful. It would give bet-
ter cover for their departure. Witz had insisted on rid-
ing with them almost to the Regian advanced positions.
He had arranged for some of the Old Guard, with
Musket's help, to cause a diversion allowing the queen
and the count to slip through the lines unobserved.

"Permit me to say. Your Majesty—" Witz began,
blushing and stammering so much that he was obliged
to break off.

"Consider it said," Mickle told him. "You'll hear from
us."

Las Bombas had started. Mickle galloped after him.

In a last backward glance before dashing to safety
among her enemies, she glimpsed Witz reluctantly
turning his mount, the most woebegone general she had
ever seen.

Over the following days, they made good progress.
The count's medals and documents, and his high-
handed military manner, passed them unquestioned
from one headquarters to the next. Las Bombas, on the
strength of his credentials, commandeered fresh horses
and drew officer's rations. He cheered up slightly and
had even begun to imagine that Mickle's plan might
succeed.

It was only at Eschbach, where they arrived late one
evening, that they met with difficulties. Despite the

n63\

hour, the town teemed with marching troops and more
than the ordinary traffic of supply carts. At a barrier
across the road, a heavily armed guard halted them.
Holding up a lantern, he studied their papers closely,
then called for the duty officer.

Las Bombas had broken into a sweat. Mickle's heart
was in her mouth. The count, she feared, had made
some error in their passes. The officer, on the contrary,
was impressed, far more than Mickle wished. He came
to rigid attention and saluted sharply but, to her dis-
may, did not allow them to pass.

"The general must not miss the opportunity of meet-
ing such a distinguished fellow officer," he told Las
Bombas. "You, of course, will want to pay your re-
spects."

"Naturally," said the count. "Nothing we should like
better. Some other time. Our mission is of the utmost
diplomatic delicacy."

"All the more reason, sir," the officer replied. "The
general will be eager to hear of it and discuss it with
you."

Las Bombas looked ready to collapse. He tried never-
theless to put on as bold a face as he could. "Out of the
question. Let us by, sir. We have no rime for conver-
sation with General—ah, whoever he is."

The officer looked at him in surprise. "Sir, have you
not been advised of it? Eschbach is now headquarters
of the supreme commander himself: General Erzcour."

164

The officer insisted so strongly, summoning an escort
to conduct them to staff headquarters in the town hall,
that Las Bombas feared an outright refusal would draw
dangerous attention.

"You've never met Erzcour? He's never seen you?"
he muttered under his breath as they walked their
horses through the crowded street. "No? Good. There's
still a chance, then. Don't talk if you can help it. You're
only an aide, a lowly sub-lieutenant, not worth a gen-
eral's glance."

The supreme commander, to the count's intense re-
lief, was in no hurry to receive his visitors. At the town
hall, an adjutant reported that General Erzcour sent his
regrets at being unable to see them until breakfast next
morning. The count and Mickle were taken to their bil-
lets on an upper floor of the building, which served as
both offices and sleeping quarters.

Left by themselves in a suite of lightly but comfort-
ably furnished chambers, with beds and piilows instead
of army cots, the count's military bearing sagged; he

165]

paced back and forth, too agitated to appreciate small
luxuries.

"Damnable traitor! As if it weren't enough to be de-
layed here. Erzcour, of all people!"

"There's time," said Mickle. "We have between now
and morning to get out. It could be worse."

"It could always be worse," groaned the count, "and
usually is. .Dear girl, I warned you this would come to
no good."

An orderly soon carried in a tray of food with the
compliments of the supreme commander. The count,
appetite undiminished despite all, attacked the dishes
as if they were Erzcour himself.

"Traitor he is," said Las Bombas, "but he puts out a
reasonably good dinner. Turncoat! I hope the day comes
when he'll be brought to book. Meantime, I'll eat his
food out of sheer revenge."

Mickle had gone to the window. As best she could
judge, the number of wagons and troops had de-
creased. A detachment had apparently passed through
town. She stood, conhnuing to watch for a time. Some-
thing puzzled her. She could not define it- It was trou-
blesome.

The count's refreshment had brought back some of
his confidence. "I'm not sure we should try to leave.
We'll be missed, that's bound to raise questions. It
might be wiser if !, at least, saw Erzcour. It could be
too risky for you to face him unless you must. I'll tell
him you're down with a bad case of,camp fever or some
such. Erzcour has too much on his hands to bother long
with visiting officers. The worst might be a few min-
utes of boring conversation." The count brightened a

U66I

little as he went on, "In fact, I might even try talking
him into giving us an armed escort to Mull."

"If anyone can do it, you can," said Mickle- "I don't
know. There's something ! have to think about."

"Think about what happens once we're clear of this
place. That's the main idea."

Mickle still felt uneasy. "I want to take a look around.
Something's going on. I can't put my finger on it. If I
could see what's happening in the town—"

"What's to see but more Regians? One headquarters
town is hardly different from another. That's one trou-
ble with the military: little variety."

Since Mickle insisted. Las Bombas, finally, could only
agree. They left their chambers and made their way
downstairs through the bustling offices to the front of
the town hall. Their horses, as far as Las Bombas could
determine, had been stabled in an adjoining structure.
Rather than raise questions, Mickle thought it best to
leave their mounts and go on foot.

The guard at the doorway refused to let them pass.
Despite the count's bluster and rattling of documents
under the man's nose, the Regian stood firm. With ut-
most courtesy, he told Las Bombas that transient offi-
cers, by strict order of General Erzcour, were to remain
in quarters.

"I don't much like that," muttered the count. "Con-
fined to barracks? Officers on an important mission?
That's an item I'll take up with Erzcour in the morning.
The fellow's not only a traitor, he's discourteous to a
brother officer. Besides, it gives me a sensation I've un-
fortunately learned to recognize over the years: It smacks
of being under arrest."

167}

Mickle hesitated, more than ever anxious to investi-
gate the town. Las Bombas drew her away, warning
that disregarding a general's orders could only lead to
trouble. Reluctantly, she followed him back to their
quarters.

Entering the room, Mickle was surprised to see a fair-
haired gin bent over the saddlebags and belongings Las
Bombas had left beside his bed. The gir! straightened
hurriedly and spun around-

"Here, here," cried Las Bombas, "what's ali this?"

The giri, flustered for an instant, smiled and curtsied.
"I'm the laundress, sir- I've come for your wash."

"Ah, and a charming little washerwoman you are,"
said Las Bombas, winking at her and playing every bit
the gallant officer. "General Erzcour treats his guests
well, I'll give him that much. Yes, my dear, I'd be glad
to have a few things done up. You must get them back
first thing in the morning, though. And go lightly on
the starch."

"What are you up to?" demanded Mickle, stepping
forward. "We didn't ask for a laundress."

"No, we didn't," said Las Bombas. "The general, I
presume, wished to foresee our every need."

"And send someone rummaging through our bags?"
Mickle eyed the girl sharply. "What are you after? More
than shirts, I shouldn't wonder."

"Just tidying up," the girl protested, dropping an-
other curtsy. "I wanted to change your bedclothes and
put these old ones in the wash."

"Most thoughtful of you." The count beamed. "Now,
Lieutenant, we must let this delightful creature go about
her work."

[168}

'The sheets were fresh," said Mickle. "They didn't
need changing."

"Eh?" Las Bombas blinked. "Ah, perhaps they were.
Good. It's that much less for the delicate hands of this
young lady."

Before the laundress could stop her, Mickle suddenly
picked up t'-'e girl's basket and searched under the
rumpled linen- "Here's your pistol. Mine, too."

"Tut, tut, that won't do." The count sternly eyed the
girl. "Young women shouldn't play with firearms, let
alone steal them. I'm beginning to think my comrade-
in-arms has a point. You may be a laundress, you're
certainly a thief—and perhaps more. You and I, my
dear, must have a little talk about that."

The girl moved quickly, trying to dart out the door.
The count seized her arm. The laundress twisted free,
lost her balance, and stumbled back against the wall.
Before Las Bombas could reach her, she snatched a dag-
ger from under her shawl.

"Laundress, indeed!" cried the count- "First, she
wants to do our wash, then tries to assassinate us!"

Mickle dropped the basket and flung herself on the
girl, who struggled fiercely. The count ran to Mickle's
aid. The laundress had nearly broken loose from
Mickle's grasp.

"Hold her arm," ordered Mickle. "She's not trying to
kill us- She's trying to kill herself."

The self-styled laundress would have succeeded in
plunging the dagger into her own breast had not Mickle
and Las Bombas borne her to the floor by sheer weight
and strength. The count twisted the weapon from her
hand and threw it aside.

169

The girl raised her head and glared defiantly. "Go
on/ kill me. Torture me. I don't care what you do."

"We're not going to do either," said Mickle. "But
we're not letting you go until you tell us—"

The girl spat at her. "I'll tell you nothing. Damn you,
all of you."

"Gently, there, my dear," said Las Bombas. "You
don't seem too fond of Regians. That's understandable.
As for the rest, you have some explaining to do."

The girl clenched her teeth. Mickled pulled her up-
right and sat her on the bed. "Listen to me," Mickle
said quietly. "We're not too fond of Regians, either."
For a moment, she was tempted to tell the girl who she
was, but thought better of it. "We only want to help
you."

"Liar!"

"Be calm, child," said Las Bombas. "We're not ex-
actly whom you might suppose."

"You're Regians," the laundress flung back. "That's
enough."

Las Bombas glanced at Mickle. "What now?"

Mickle put her hands on the girl's shoulders. "I want
you to trust us, so I'm going to trust you. I'm going to
tell you something, then you'll tell me why you were
searching our rooms."

The laundress looked scornfully at Mickle, who con-
tinued: "We're on your side. There's more to it, but
you don't need to know that. We're going to let you go.
If we weren't your friends, we'd hardly do that, would
we?"

"More lies. A trap—"

"No. All right, 1 can't expect you to believe us with-
out proof- Do you know of Florian?"

(J70I

"Everyone does."

"I've met him," said Mickle. "I can describe him to
you. Not enough? I've met some of his friends, too. Do
you know someone called Theo? A poet named Stock?
What about Justin?"

The laundress paled. Mickle knew she had touched a
deep nerve. "Justin. He was badly hurt once. I haven't
seen him for a while, but I imagine he shows the signs
of it. A red-haired girl, Zara. Another girl they talked
about—"

"Rina," said the laundress. "Yes- I'm Rina. I believe
you, but I can't understand— Who are you? Are you one
of us?"

"Well—you might say so." Mickle smiled. "Yet I
wouldn't go quite that far. We're ail trying to help each
other. Now, what do you have to say?"

It took Rina a few moments to collect her wits and
accept the idea that her apparent enemies were, in fact,
her friends. "The pistols— Yes, I wanted them. The
townsfolk have been storing weapons. The Regians,
when they came, tried to seize what was here. But we
hid most of them: sabers, muskets, pistols. We have a
fair stock; we can never have too much, of course. We
steal what we can. We managed even to get hold of
some grenades."

"It sounds to me," said Las Bombas, "that you've put
together a nice little arsenal. What are you planning to
do with it?"

"When the right time comes," answered Rina,
"there's going to be an uprising. That's one secret the
Regians haven't found out. Most of the townsfolk are
in on it. So am I. When the signal's given, we'll be
ready. But we have to choose the best moment. Once

171

we come into the open, we'll have only one chance. We
can't surprise the Regians twice. The reprisals will be
terrible. So we've waited, hoping the queen's army
would attack and advance up the valley. Then we'd risk
our own attack. We're still waiting," Rina bitteriy added.
"A long time."

"I know," said Mickle. "I hope—well, 1 hope the war
ends before you have to do anything/'

"A conspiratorial laundress, eh?" said Las Bombas,
"and a lovely one into the bargain."

"More than that," said Rina. "1 work for the raiding
parties up there in the hills. 1 pass along whatever 1
find out that could help them. You were new here. I
thought you might have messages, special orders. I can't
understand yet what's happening in Eschbach, but I
know it's important. There've been a lot of troop move-
ments; not many all at once, but they've been going on
a good while, and more now. I haven't been able to get
word to—to someone named Shrike. He's one of Flo-
nan's officers."

"Do you know anything of Theo?" Mickle asked. "I'd
be glad for any news of him."

Rina shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't want to say
any more. Some things you don't need to know, either.
I'd better go. They'll wonder what became of me."

"Don't forget my laundry," put in Las Bombas. "It
not only needs washing, but it's a good excuse for you
to come back. I'm to breakfast with Erzcour tomorrow.
I'll winkle whatever I can out of him."

"I think I'd better have breakfast with him, too." said
Mickle, as Rina hastily left them. "I want to hear for
myself anything he might say. I'll take the chance. My

EI721

hair's still short enough. There's no way I can manage
a beard, but a little grime might answer- Besides, as
you say, he won't pay any mind to a sub-lieutenant."

Las Bombas shook his head. "I'm not sure it's wise-
Think it over. Best yet, sleep on it, which is exactly
what I'm going to do,"

Tired though she was, Mickle could not rest. She went
to her chamber, but instead of trying to sleep, she stood
again by the window. She had, finally, understood a
part of what had troubled her. She was angry at herself
for not realizing it immediately. The map of Westmark
came into her mind as clearly as if it had been spread
before her eyes.

She had, at first, assumed that Erzcour was sending
fresh troops to reinforce the Regian divisions opposing
her at Altus-Birkenfeld. The men and equipment she
had seen, therefore, should have been moving west.
Instead, it seemed they were bearing south.

173

He came full awake, like an animal: instantly, silently,
with no wasted motion. Beck, one of the original com-
pany who had taken Rosana's place, roused him.
"Raven's here. Justin wants all officers."
Theo crawled out of his burrow. They had finally
chosen a site above Eschbach. They must, he and Justin
had decided, prepare now for winter. With luck, they
could settle in and not move again for several months.
The men had already started building durable shelters,
dugouts and low huts, shored up with branches, roofed
over with sod and patches of turf. Justin had ordered a
larger structure for himself, to serve as command post
and sleeping quarters, part dug into the side of a slope,
the rest covered with twigs and limbs, like a half-fin-
ished beaver lodge.

Theo had been dreaming. He could not recapture
what the dream had been, except it was pleasant. Now
he only felt hungry, but he was used to that and knew
it would grow worse. They had, for the time being,
stopped most of their forays. Justin did not want to risk
bringing attention to themselves or their whereabouts

[174]

until they had a solid foothold. Food supplies, in con-
sequence, had dwindled. Foraging lower down among
the farms had become too dangerous. As Theo foresaw,
there was almost no harvest. Justin had said he would
deal with that. Theo had been content to leave it to him,
impatient only to begin the raids again.

Beck strode beside him. The stars looked enormous.
Theo glimpsed other figures moving toward Justm's
lodge. "Did you tell the Monkey? I want him with us."

"He's not m camp."

Theo cursed between denched teeth. The Monkey was
scavenging again. He told Beck to warn the guard post.
The Monkey must report immediately to Justin. He
ducked through the entry. Justin and his other officers
squatted in the wider section, maps on the ground in a
wash of lantern light.

Luther glanced up. Theo could tell from his expres-
sion that it took the man a moment to recognize him.
It puzzled Theo, this instant when Luther stared at him
as a stranger- The scrub of beard covering Theo's cheeks,
the layers of dirty clothing were'Tio different in appear-
ance from those of the rest of the company. Then Lu-
ther's face broke into a grin. He nodded, clearly glad to
see him, yet there seemed an odd, regretful twist to his
smile.

Beck had rejoined Theo. Justin was now aware of the
Monkey's absence. Used to his ways, he never re-
marked on them- This time he looked angry. He said
only: "Raven has bad news. We're to move."

Theo's heart sank, not only at the labor lost but as
much at leaving his burrow. He had felt it was his first
permanent home since they had gone into the Domi-
tians. "When?"

175}

"Now," justin said. "We pull out altogether. That's
from FIorian."

"You had no idea?" said Luther. "Nothing from
Rina?"

Justin shook his head. "We've been out of touch. This
is the first we've stopped- She doesn't yet know where
we are. I'll get word into Eschbach."

"I'll handle that," said Luther. "You can't lose time.
You're needed elsewhere."

Luther bent over the map. "Florian's already sent a
message to the queen, at Altus-Birkenfeld. We sus-
pected something was astir a while ago. Now we're
sure. Look here. Eschbach's at the head of the Sabrina
valley, where it cuts southwest between the Domihans
and—here—this long stretch of foothills. It's rough
country. Once through it, though, it's flatlands north-
ward to the Vespera- An easy road straight to Manan-
stat."

As Luther went on, Theo could guess what he would
say. He did not want to hear it, let alone believe it.

"Erzcour's been given new divisions. He's sending
all of them through the Sabrina valley. As far as we can
tell, he's also moving troops out of Carlsbruch. No doubt
he'll leave enough in place to keep Augusta from ad-
vancing. Most of his army. though, is going into the
valley.

"He's gambling. It will be heavy going, but short
going What he loses in time, he'll more than make up
after he's out. He can march on Mananstat with noth-
ing to stop him-

"The queen will have to move all the troops she can
spare So will FIorian. To—here." Luther put a finger

176

on the map. "To La Jolie, one of the Montmollin estates.

"You're to join Fiorian there. It's a waste of time now
trying to nip Erzcour's flank; a flea biting an elephant.
Besides, he can afford sending up enough detachments
to sweep out all of you. FIorian needs you with him.
He'll give you new orders at La jolie."

Luther sat back on his heels. "That's all. We stop Erz-
cour at La Jolie and hold rill winter, or it ends there."

"Can we do it?" Theo asked.

"I don't know. We've got no choice, do we? If you
clear out fast enough, if you go through the foothills
and keep ahead of Erzcour's advance guard, it's not im-
possible- We gamble, too. A small number travels faster
than his heavy brigades."

Luther went on for a while, explaining details and
answering questions from Justin and the officers. When
it was over and they began filing out of the lodge, Lu-
ther took Theo's arm.

"A shame about Stock."

"Yes."

"The man taking his place. Kestrel. He's done well."

"Yes. I suppose so."

Luther looked at him for a long moment. "You're
Kestrel, aren't you."

It was not a question, but a flat statement. At first, it
surprised Theo. He hesitated an instant, then curtly
nodded. He did not ask how Luther had known or how
he had guessed. Luther said no more about it. To Theo,
it seemed Luther had looked at him then with a terrible
sad ness-

The Monkey was back, standing in front of the lodge,
laughing with some of the troopers as the meeting

{177}

ended. The sky had begun to lighten. Their breath
smoked as they chivvied one another and joked back
and forth. Justin had stepped from the entry.

"You should have been here. Monkey," Justin said
coldly. "I'll go over it all with you later. Get ready to
move out. See to the cannon."

The Monkey gave an apologetic half-salute and
bobbed his head. "Good thing I did better than usual.
You'll be glad for extra rations if we're breaking camp
again."

The man, Theo noticed, had put down two large
sacks. He had already shared some of the contents with
a couple of the troopers, who were gratefully munching
away.

"I'd have tried for more, if I'd known," said the
Monkey. "Bloody farm wench kicked up such a row.
They're a shrewd lot. They've got who knows what-all
squirreled away, and lie to your face and swear there's
not another scrap in the house. Civilians' She
had a good lesson, though."

The Monkey chuckled and winked. Theo halted.
"What do you mean?"

The Monkey made a vague motion with his hands.
Justin, who had been listening, came closer.

"You mind what you're about. Monkey," he said.
"No more of this scavenging, not while we're on the
march. You were out most of the night this time. That's
already too much of a risk."

"I'd have been back long since," answered the Mon-
key, "if the damned Regian patrol hadn't come by." He
grinned proudly. "They couldn't hold me long, not those
lumpheads."

[1781

"You got'caught?" Theo demanded. "Monkey, you're
a damned fool. How did you get away?"

"Easy," said the Monkey. "Once we got to Esch-
bach—"

"They took you into Eschbach?" Justin broke in.
"What then?"

"Why, Colonel, it wasn't anything, you know. They
didn't give me any trouble."

Luther had come forward. "How long did they keep
you there?"

"No time at all. I gave them the slip." The Monkey
laughed and shook his head. "A sorry lot. Raw re-
cruits."

"Lucky they let you keep the food," said Luther.
"It cost me some of it," said the Monkey. "A couple
bottles of wine before they let me go."
"You said you gave them the slip," Theo put in.
"Yes, well, you see that was after they got done
questioning me about—"

The Monkey stopped short and clamped his mouth
shut. Justin's face went white*' He seized the Monkey
by the front of his jacket. "Questioned? What did you
tell them?"

"Nothing!" blurted the Monkey. "Nothing! Colonel,
I swear to heaven!"

Justin looked about to throttle him. The Monkey's
eyes darted back and forth. It was the first time Theo
had seen him show fear-

"Let be," ordered Luther, his face grave.
Justin relaxed his grasp.

"We have to make some sense of this," said Luther.
"He was caught. He was questioned. We know that

779]

much. We don't know what, if anything, they got out
of him."

The Monkey began swearing again that he had told
nothing. "Only lies' Only a lot of rubbish! Those fools
believe any kind of nonsense."

Luther spoke aside to Theo. "If he did talk. what
could he have spilled? How much does he know7"

"He knows everything," said Theo, in growing alarm.
"He knows where this camp is and how many of us
And—Luther, he knows that Rina's working for us in
Eschbach."

This same realization had struck Justin. His scar
clenched and unclenched, drawing up one side of his
face. "Did you say the slightest word about Lapwing?"

"Not one!" The Monkey changed his tone to a sort of
joking, cajoling plea. "Why, you know me better than
that. Colonel- You've known me from the first. All we've
been through—"

Jushn did not reply. The Monkey rounded on Theo.
"You know me, too. Very well do we know each other.
Comrades- You couldn't have gotten by without iYie-
That's a fact. I stayed with you, didn't I? Oh, we've
seen each other in action. Side by side, close as
brothers—"

"Yes," Theo burst out. "Yes, Monkey, we've been one
and the same'-"

"We'll settle it once and for all," Justin said. "This is
a court-martial, here and now. We three officers shall
conduct it." He glanced at Theo. "What do you say?"

"if he's telling the truth, no harm done. If he's lying,
he might have sold us out and Rina, too. We can't know
for sure."

Justin turned to Luther. "You?"

\180 |

"If you believe him, let him off with a reprimand,"
said Luther- "If you don't believe him, shoot him."

Justin was making an iron effort to control himself. If
Theo had never seen the Monkey so fearful, he had
never seen Justin so ravaged, his face livid, his hands
shaking. His voice was cold and precise.

"I must take into account that this is one of my best
men. I must take into account that we could not have
done as well without him. I must take into account that,
to my knowledge, he has never lied to me. I must take
into account that he may be lying now."

Justin's voice rose to a high, strained pitch. "I must
take into account that he might have betrayed us here-
That he might have betrayed Rina—"

At the name, he faltered, almost unable to keep on.
Until now, Theo had never imagined Justin loving any-
one. Rina, he knew, loved Justin. That Justin felt as
much for her had not occurred to him. Yet, Theo sud-
denly knew this was the case.

"Rina—" Justin was saying. "The possibility exists.
Since it does, I can not afford the benefit of the doubt.
Sentence of death—"

Before the words were out of Justin's mouth, the
Monkey, cursing, spun around and flung .himself past
the nearby troopers. He ran full speed to the edge of
the camp. Justin, eyes wild, raced after him.

The Monkey turned, hastily drew his pisto!, and fired-
The shot missed. The Monkey plunged into the under-
growth, Justin at his heels.

Stunned an instant, Theo dashed after them. He heard
Luther call out but did not glance back. He shouldered
his way through the bushes, twigs snapping in his face.
The light was dim, he could barely make out the run-

[J8I]

ning figures ahead of him and went half blindly, fol-
lowing their sounds.

His boot caught on a dead branch- He went sprawl-
ing, the breath knocked out of him. In the time it took
him to scramble up, Justin had distanced him- The
Monkey, a clever woodsman, dodged among the trees.
In other circumstances, the Monkey could have well
outrun a pursuer. Justin, driven by sheer strength of
will, was little by little closing the gap between them.
As the woods thinned out, Theo caught sight of them
again.

He was about to press on when he glimpsed some-
thing else and stopped short- The sky had brightened,
and for an instant he thought it was the gleam of sun
on the leaves. He saw now it was the glint of muskets.
He shouted, but he was too distant, his warning un-
heard.

The Regian patrol opened fire. He saw the Monkey
pitch forward and topple to lie motionless. Justin swung
up his pistol, uncertain which way to rum as the Reg-
ians set upon him from both sides.

They had seized him and were dragging him off de-
spite his struggling. Theo sprang ahead, half sobbing
with despair. The patrol and their prisoner vanished
into the undergrowth. He followed nevertheless until,
moments later, he saw the Regians had untethered their
horses. Justin, bound, had been flung across a saddle.
The patrol was making for Eschbach.

Beaten, without hope of overtaking them, Theo turned
and ran up the slope. Luther suddenly was in front of
him, with some of the troopers. Theo gasped out what
he had seen. Luther took his arm and roughly set him
moving toward the camp.

[182]

Theo fought against him, shouting that they could
not leave Justin, that they must get him back.

"Clear out of this," Luther snapped. "It's too late."

"He's alive. They're taking him to Eschbach." A fur-
ther horror dawned on him. "If they question him?
Torture him? He knows—"

"It doesn't matter," Luther said bluntly. You'll be
gone. You can't help him, you can't help Rma."

"No- Damn you, Luther, I won't leave him."

"You will." Luther gripped him by the shoulders.
"You're in command. You'll follow Florian's orders,
hear? You'll do it now- Move out your people. Colonel
Kestrel."

"Yes, I'm in command," Theo cried. "I'm a field
commander, I'll follow Florian's orders as best I see
them. We're going for Justin."

"You're mad. You'll lose the whole company."

"No. We can do it. The whole company won't go with
me. Let half start for La Jolie. Beck will command them.
The rest, with me. I want the cannon, too. Go with
Beck. We'll catch up with you."

"You forget something," said Luther. "I'm not under
your orders."

"Do as you please, then."

"You're not only a fool, you're a bad officer." Luther
paused. "I'm attaching myself to your command." Then
he grinned. "If you'd obeyed those orders, I'd have gone
to Eschbach by myself."

183

18

The supreme commander was in excellent spirits, a
condition remarkably different from his unpleasant days
at the king's headquarters. Montmollin had gone; where
and to do what did not interest Erzcour. The baron had
become impossible. Erzcour, anguishing over joining
the Regian staff, had spent many a sleepless night, and
Montmollin had not appreciated the pain of his deci-
sion. Erzcour was relieved to see what he hoped was
the last of him.

King Constantine, at the end of summer, had also
become insufferable, meddling in military affairs that
did not concern him and that he did not understand
Erzcour would have been happier if the king did not
exist. Duke Conrad fett the same and had said as much-
Erzcour and the duke dealt very well with each other
Erzcour disliked the man and had no doubt the feeling
was mutual. At heart, they understood each other,
which, perhaps, was the best reason for their dislike.

in any case, there had been important progress. He
had been given all the supplies and troops he had asked

\184\

for The added units had allowed him to devise a new
strategy, an excellent campaign plan He had, at the
duke's insistence, conferred with Cabbarus. The fellow
had made some trivial suggestions, then tned to claim
credit for the entire strategy. It was infuriating, but
Erzcour put Cabbarus from his thoughts and devoted
himself to his work, which he saw as a noble endeavor.
Honor and loyalty, he had at last come to understand,
must be taken in the broadest and most unselfish as-
pect. Serving Regia, he was most truly serving his
country- By the end of the campaign, he would surely
be carrying the baton of a field marshal-

The presence of his two visitors added zest to the
general's morning, though he was glad that Captain
Blossam's aide was not on his staff. He knew the sort.
no doubt a younger son of excellent, perhaps noble,
family, his commission bought, the war an amuse-
ment Too fine of bone for a soldier, something of a
slim dandy, a bit foppish, not altogether unlike Con-
stantine. Erzcour deliberately ignored him. The excel-
lent breakfast cleared away,'-Erzcour wished to hear
details of Blossam's mission.

For his part, sweating with fear under his uniform,
Las Bombas wished to say as little as possible and as
quickly as possible. "Excellency, it is a matter of ex-
treme sensitivity and delicacy."

"In other words: political," replied Erzcour He dis-
dained politicians and diplomats, and disdained even
more those officers who considered themselves as such.
It was, he felt, a corruption of their military duty.

"Say, instead, an affair of highest import." Las Bom-
bas made a pretense of digestive relaxation, leaning back

in his chair while he offhandedly continued- "I should
prefer not to reveal it, even to Your Excellency, and only
stress its urgency. 1 confess, sir, I did not expect to be
restricted to quarters, commodious though they were."

"The restriction no longer applies. You are quite at
liberty now. There was, naturally, a good reason for it."

"May one ask?"

"Of course." Erzcour felt expansive and indulgent,
happy for the occasion to demonstrate the superiority
of military maneuver over the diplomatic. "It was, es-
sentially, a precaution. Secrets—even diplomatic ones—
cannot be kept too long. But we must try. Indeed, Cap-
tain, the secret is quite open as of this instant, and will
be soon quite dear to our enemies. To their despair, I
am delighted to say."

Mickle, in her humble rank as Sub-Lieutenant Mi-
chael, bit her tongue. It was all she could do to keep
siient while the count and Erzcour wasted time in po-
litenesses. She was frightened, though not by fear of
discovery. As the count promised, Erzcour had given
her only the most casual scrutiny. During the night,
however, bits had fallen one by one into pl?"e. She was
by no means certain; she could only hope she was
wrong.

"It is of true military elegance," Erzcour said. "In a
word. Captain, we shall now proceed to win the war."

"Ah—as we all hope to do," said Las Bombas.

"Not by your methods. Captain," said Erzcour. "By
honest soldiering."

Erzcour got up and went to his wall map. "Beauti-
fully simple. You grasp it immediately, do you not? We
march through the Sabrina valley. Once we strike easy

[186\

terrain, we swing north past an estate called La Jolie.
And from there to Marianstat."

Mickle's heart sank- Erzcour had, unwittingly, told
her the last thing she needed to know. She had already
understood the danger of a Regian thrust exactly as Erz-
cour described it. To do so, she also knew, depended
on Regia's willingness to commit new divisions, at huge
expense. Her only question: Would Regia accept such a
burden? She had her answer. Her thoughts swung
frantically between two points. She must be at the head
of her army; she must reach Constantine. One or the
other—she could not do both. She must be out of
Eschbach immediately, though she feared it might be
too late for either course.

Erzcour kept on, while Mickle went silently mad with
impatience. "And so, you understand, Captain, I
wished simply to keep transient officers—indeed, all
officers even of field grade—from committing indiscre-
tions of conversation with civilians, especially with the
charming ladies of Eschbach. This is no longer neces-
sary. Our movements are weU in train, nothing can stop
them. In addition, even more -importantly, I chose to
avoid the risk of officers' being captured by these gangs
of bandits and terrorists that so plague us. They would
not hesitate to torture a captive for any information they
might gain. We have proof. They are savages, they obey
no rules of decent, civilized warfare.

"The infamous Kestrel, for example. He is the most
abominable, ruthless—no, he shares that distinction
with another we know to be called Shrike. They shall
be rooted out, to the last of them."

Erzcour went back to his desk. "Would you care to

[187}

see a real live terrorist? It would be an education for
you lofty diplomatic warriors. We caught one last night.
Then we let him go."

"An unusual act of mercy," said Las Bombas. "But if
he is no longer here—"

"We do not show mercy to their sort. We have our
little games, too." Erzcour chuckled. "Yes, we caught
this fellow looting, a crime in itself. We persuaded him
to see reason, and set him on his way again. We
planned for him to show us where Shnke had set up
new headquarters; not for immediate action, but rather
like playing a fish. The fellow was to rejoin his gang
and report back to us from time to time. Whether he
would have kept his word is open to question- We shall
never know. He met, you see, with a misadventure.

"To make up for it, we have an even better speci-
men. It may well be Shrike himself, we are not certain.
We are, shall I say, in process of determining that. Come
along, Captain. And your aide. It will be all the more
salutary and instructive for the young gentleman."

Neither Mickle nor Las Bombas had time to consider
the general's invitation. Erzcour had already taken the
count's arm, conducting him from the office to the end
of the corridor and down a few steps, with Mickle fol-
lowing, struggling to compose herself.

The general ushered them into one of the archive
chambers now serving as an interrogation room. The
single window had been heavily coated with black
paint, the cabinets rearranged to make room for a writ-
ing table and bench. Papers were heaped in the comer,
bits of food strewn on the floor. A sour smell hung in
the room, where a soldier was mopping away a puddle

188]

of water. Two officers in shirt sleeves stood beside the
man bound to a chair.

The Regians stiffened to attention at sight of Erzcour,
who took one of the candles from the table and went to
the prisoner. The man was unconscious, his head lolled.

"Gentlemen, let me present our guest." Erzcour
beckoned to Las Bombas and Mickle. "A discourteous
one; it seems he has decided to take a nap."

One of the officers reported that the man refused to
answer questions. Erzcour shrugged. "He will." He
turned to the count. "It will follow a pattern- First, in-
solent refusal. Bravado—for a while. Sooner or later, he
will answer everything and give us even more than we
ask. They all do, you know. A matter of time and pa-
tience. In this case, we wish to shorten the time. Our
patience, too, is short."

Erzcour raised the man's face. Despite the bruises and
the tangle of clotted hair covering the brow, Mickle rec-
ognized Justin immediately. She nearly cried out. Las
Bombas paled and made a small sound in his throat.

"Unsettling to you?" Erzcour smiled and shook his
head. "We conduct our own fashion of diplomacy here.
I assure you, we shall have more truth out of this fellow
than ever came from a minister of state.

"Can you rouse him?" Erzcour asked the officer.
"Captain Blossam would appreciate the opportunity of
posing a few questions of his own. He might have bet-
ter success. You, evidently, have had none whatever."

The officer flinched under his commander's eye and
motioned for the soldier to pick up the water bucket.
At that moment, Erzcour's adjutant came into the room.

"Eh? What's this about?" asked Erzcour. The adju-

[789]

tant drew his chief aside and whispered hastily in his
ear. Erzcour's good spirits evaporated, his face turned
a dull red. His subordinate continued murmuring
something Mickle strained uselessly to hear. Erzcour
slammed the candleholder down on the table.

"Absurd! This goes too far! Insufferable!" He turned
to Las Bombas. "Like all families, our military house-
hold has its occasional inconveniences. One of them is
about to happen. 1 must attend to it. Return, please, to
my office. I shall rejoin you shortly."

Mickle would have hung back as Erzcour stamped out
of the room. Las Bombas pulled her away, muttering,
"Do as he says- Nothing else for it at the moment."

With Mickle racking her brain and insisting they
could not leave Justin as he was, they hurried down the
corridor. "Poor devil," murmured the count. "1 see no
help for him. Your idea's blown sky-high, too. Start
back now. With everything else astir, we'll be lucky to
reach Altus-Birkenfeld."

"I have to think it out," said Mickle. "There's too
much all at once. Witz is there, he'll do his best—"

Rina had suddenly come around the comer and hur-
ried up to them. Her face was mottled, her eyes puffy.
She made a show of looking through her laundry bas-
ket, and the passersby saw nothing but the unremark-
able sight of a laundress taking up some matter of busi-
ness with two Regian officers.

"He's alive," Mickle said hastily before Rina could
speak. "Yes, I know it's Justin. We saw him."

"They'll torture him." Rina was half sobbing. "They'll
kill him, finally, no matter what."

"Hush, hush," put in Las Bombas. "You'll have peo-

p90i

pie staring." He raised his voice "Yes, my dear, in the
matter of shirts—"

"He's told them nothing," Mickle said to Rina "Worst
is they have the idea he. might be—what did they call
him—Shrike."

"He is'" Rina cried. "Don't you understand? He's the
commander—"

"Keep your voice down," muttered Las Bombas. "Ah,
yes. The question of starch—"

"My friends told me he was brought here," said Rina
"We've tried to find a plan. They're willing. They'll get
him free somehow. We're ready, all of us- I can give
the word."

"Do nothing," Mickle ordered. "Not right now. Do
you hear me?" Rina, she saw, was in a terrible state
"Listen. When Erzcour comes back, I'll ask to see Justin
again. I don't know what I'll do. At least I'll be on hand
I'll manage to keep them from doing worse to him."

She broke off. The adjutant had appeared, surprised
to find them still in the hall. Las Bombas stammered an
excuse about his wash- The adjutant led them to Erz-
cour's office.

"Insanity," cried Las Bombas as soon as the door had
closed. "Little fool! She'll set the whole town by the
heels. For the sake of one man? She's gone mad."

"No," said Mickle. "She's simply in love with him."

"Worse!" groaned Las Bombas. "Who knows what
folly she'll commit' Gracious heaven, she told us her-
self; Once the townsfolk show their hand, it's do or
die—and die in any case. Yes, they might get him out.
What then? It's the end for all of them."

Las Bombas clamped his mouth shut. Erzcour had

191

come in. The general's temper had not improved. No
sooner had he sat down than Mickle, to the count's dis-
may, spoke up.

"What? What, sir, have you to say?" Erzcour turned
his annoyance on this junior officer who had ventured
to address him directly and without permission.

"Sir, concerning your prisoner—"

"My aide was greatly impressed," Las Bombas put
in. "He wishes to observe further."

"Ah?" Erzcour raised his eyebrows. "I had thought
it might be strong meat for the lieutenant's stomach.
Perhaps, after all, there is hope for him. Yes, of course.
It will be all the more instructive now. I have sum-
moned a most excellent individual, an expert in these
cases. I, too, hope to see truly professional methods.
Excuse me. Captain, for a few moments."

Erzcour began scribbling a rapid succession of mem-
oranda. He was still writing when his adjutant ushered
in a new visitor. In modestly drab but welt-tailored
clothing, the man was short and dumpy. He carried a
soft hat in one hand, in the other, a black leather case
The count's jaw dropped. Horrified, he fumed wide
eyes on Mickle, whose face had gone ashen.

It was Skeit. Hardly glancing at two minor officers,
the little man went straight to Erzcour and bobbed his
head in a cheerfully familiar but most unmilitary greet-
ing. Erzcour put down his pen.

"Here we are, sir," Skeit began. "Soonest possible I
took a tittle while choosing all I thought was needed—
tools of the trade, as you might say it saves running
back for some little item one might overlook More
haste, less speed, as it were."

192

"Yes, yes," Erzcour said impatiently. "It's your busi-
ness, not mine."

"As you say, sir." Skeit winked a pink-rimmed eye.
"We a!l have our specialities."

"I hope to join you later," said Erzcour "It would be
gratifying to see a craftsman at work. We still have
something to learn from fellows like you. Meantime,
these officers will observe your methods. Unless, of
course, you have your little professional secrets."

"Only skill, nothing secret," answered Skeit. "I shall
be honored."

Erzcour waved a hand. "Captain Blossam. His aide."

Skeit bowed. "Gentlemen. Now. if you'd be kind
enough to follow me." Skeit turned away, then turned
back again, frowning. He shook his head, blinked for
a moment.

"General," Skeit declared, "these are not Regian of-
ficers." He motioned with his head toward Las Bom-
bas. "This one—"

"How dare you!" cried Las Bombas. "You mistake
yourself, sir, and impugn me at the same time, you de-
testable weasel!"

Had there been doubt at all in Skeit's mind, the
count's outburst settled it. "Spies' Arrest them, sir In-
stantly!"

Erzcour had jumped to his feet. That same moment,
his window shattered under a volley of musketry- Mick-
le cried out. There was sharp firing in the street. Shouts
of alarm rang in the corridor- Erzcour, without question
or hesitation, snatched a pistol from his desk.

Before he could aim, Rina burst through the door
Behind her, the corridor was in an uproar. Shots rattled

193

down the hallway. Some of the armed townspeople had
already forced their way into the building. Rina halted
no more than a second. Seeing Erzcour with pistol
raised, she sprang forward and threw herself on him.
Erzcour, under the sudden assault, stumbled back, his
weapon discharging in air.

Mickie and Las Bombas ran to help the laundress
struggling with Erzcour. Skeit, quick as an adder, darted
ahead of them. His arm scarcely seemed to move. A
thin blade shot from his sleeve into his hand. Rina
whimpered and feil back. Shouting in rage. Las Bom-
bas seized the pudgy man by the throat. Skeit drove
his knee into the count's belly and sprang away-

Mickle dropped to her knees beside Rina. The girl
stared at her, unseeing. With a cry, Mickie turned from
the body and struck at Erzcour, who had begun reload-
ing his pistol.

That same instant, a townsman with a musket leaped
over the body of the adjutant in the doorway. Others
followed. The first fired point-blank at Erzcour, then ran
forward, dubbing the general with his musket even be-
fore he fell.

Skeit had vanished. Las Bombas seized Mickie, roar-
ing for her to get out. The townsmen had fallen on Erz*
cour, striking at him with their musket butts. One of
the men, turning away for a moment, sighted Mickie
and the count, and shouted for his comrades

"Run for it!" bellowed Las Bombas. "They think we're
Regians'"

194

Luther had insisted. While half the company, under
Beck, set out for La Jolie, the gray-haired Raven refused
to hear any protest from Theo.

"I'll go to Eschbach first," Luther told him. "Alone. I
know the town. You don't. I can find out where they're
keeping him. The town hall is my best guess. But ex-
actly where? He may not be alive- In which case"—Lu-
ther grimaced and shook his head—"in which case,
you'll drop the whole business and get on your way as
fast as you can."

"And if he's alive?" Theo's horse was already sad-
dled. Theo had slung a musket over his shoulder. He
stood beside Luther, shivering a little in the cold dawn.

"We'll see- I'll get back as soon as possible. We'll de-
cide then."

"Rina? if she's in danger. I want her out of there."

"If possible."

"It will be. We'll make it so."

Though Luther had insisted on following his own
course, Theo was firmly set on the rest of the plan. He

195)

and his part of the company would halt as close to
Eschbach as they dared. Thus, Luther could rejoin them
without delay.

"You'll lose hours if you come back here," said Theo.
"We'll wait for you as long as it takes. I can be in po-
sition almost at the outskirts of town."

"Broad daylight? If you're attacked?"

"That will be my affair "

The cannon had been hitched to the limber, the com-
pany was ready- Theo signaled them to move out. Lu-
ther objected no further. However, as they started from
the hills, Theo sensed that the older man would have
preferred his own solitary methods. They said little to
each other along the way. Luther's face was hard, he
seemed caught up in his thoughts. The sun had come
out, it would be a bright day-

Theo felt almost lighthearted, the same giddiness
coming over him as it did at the outset of each raid. He
was glad for Luther's help, though he would have done
no differently without it.

He wished only one thing: for the Monkey to be alive
and with him.

Everything suddenly changed. Near Eschbach, Theo
imagined that he heard firing. It puzzled him. It could
hardly be possible; yet, the closer they came, the louder
the sound. Finally, it was unmistakable. He and Luther
rode forward until they had a clear sight of the town.
Theo pressed his eye to the spyglass. After a moment,
he handed over the glass.

"See for yourself. They're fighting in the streets."
Luther squinted in turn. A look of joy and bewilder-

796]

ment had come over his face. "Lunatics! Insurrection?
Fools' They can't hold. They'll be wiped out. It's mad-
ness—heaven help them, but what great madness' There
go your plans, lad. What now?"

"Now? We support them."

He did not wait for Luther's reply, he did not hear if
Luther made one. He did not even remember giving
the signal to his company. There was only the horse
straining under him, the hoofbeats Jolting, and the
screaming in his ears. These were Kestrel's people be-
hind him. They had begun their cry as they galloped
into the heart of the town.

He had lost track of Luther. In the square, when Theo
sprang from the saddle, he glimpsed him again. Luther
had run toward an overturned wagon serving as make-
shift barricade and strong point at the near side of the
square.

The cannon, finally, had come rattling over the cob-
bles, the horses drawn up, rearing. He shouted for the
gunners to unlimber it. One wmg of the town hall was
ablaze. From a window, a bulky shape dangled awk-
wardly at the end of a rope. It appeared to be wearing
a general's uniform. The face was covered with bright
splotches like scarlet flowers.

Luther had come back, beside him a heavyset man
with a bush of red hair over a powder-streaked face. A
tradesman of some sort, he had kept his apron on; a
red ribbon, the ends long and loose, was tied around
his arm. The streamers gave him a festive took.

"Colonel, have your men direct some fire there—"
He pointed to the upper stories of the town hall. "We
have most of the ground floor, but a lot of Regians

197]

are holding out in the tower. They're shooting down at     '
our people."                                          ^

"Tell the gunners what you want," Theo said. "Tell     ; '*•
them I ordered it."                                      i ;

"He thinks they'll soon have justin," Luther said.     [i

-                                    __                                     ' -a'

"He's alive, in an interrogation room. They're trying to     ' j?
break him out through a window."                       ; ,"?

"Rina?"

"They found her body. They'll try to bring it out,
too."

With a cry of rage, Theo started for the wagon, mo-
tioning some of the company to follow. The sudden roar
of the cannon made his ears sing. The gunners crowed
as a comer of the tower crumbled. Another ball hit more
squarely. They reloaded and continued firing until the
redheaded tradesman waved his arms for them to train
the piece on a Regian troop galloping from a side street.

Theo crouched by the wagon. At the housefronts
around the square, he glimpsed what seemed at first to
be heaps of rags. He noticed, then, red armbands flut-
tering from them.

Justin's fieldpiece was proving its worth. The Regian
attack had broken before the gunners exhausted their
ammunition. Some of the Regians, however, had dashed
into the buildings to continue firing from the upper
windows- At the opposite comer, in the shadow of the
town hall itself, a band of townspeople exchanged sharp
volleys with a squad of foot troops. Despite the cover
of another wagon and a hastily made breastwork of
lumber, the townsmen were hard pressed and could not
advance. Theo motioned for his company to reinforce
them. He unslung his musket. He and Luther dashed
across the square.

1198]

He caught sight, then, of a few men running from
behind the building, among them a pale-haired figure.
He shouted for his men to quicken their fire to keep
the Regians from turning musketry on Justin and his
fleeing rescuers- A bullet sang past Theo's head, an-
other splintered the wagon shaft as he stepped away
from the breastwork, beckoning to Justin.

The Regian fire slackened. Theo's marksmen were
taking their toll. Justin, gasping, scrambled over the
wagon. He stared at Theo.

"Damn you!" Justin shouted. "Damn you! What have
you done?"

Instead of gratitude, Justin's anger struck Theo full in
the face and, bewildered, he could only stammer, "We
came for you—"

"You had orders. You should have gone."

"I wasn't going to leave you here," Theo flung back.
"They'd have tortured you."

"They did. You thought I'd have broken? No. 1 told
them nothing. I never would, no matter what they did-
Fool! You could have lost the whole company- How
many lost now?"

Justin's violet eyes blazed out of the mass of bruises.
He gave a cry like a hurt animal. "Rina's dead* Do you
know that? She's dead! If you'd followed orders—"

"The uprising had already started. It wasn't our
doing. We'd have saved her if we could. We knew the
danger. Luther knew it. He'd have tried to get you out,
no matter."

Luther had not spoken. Theo turned to him. The gray-
haired man was leaning against the wagon, his head
resting on the wooden shaft. His leathery face was calm,
but his eyes were blank. There was no sign of a wound.

[199}

Only when Theo ran to him did he see the stain
spreading over his shirtfront.

Theo's fury at the sight rose higher than Justin's. He
ran to the comer of the breastwork, he would have
thrown himself bare-handed against the Regian troops.
His rage found its target.

From a wing of the town hall, two Regian officers
had galloped their horses into the square and turned
sharply away, heading for a side street. Theo brought
up his musket and fired.

One of the Regians slumped forward in the saddle
as the horse plunged on. The second officer's mount
shied, reared, and pitched its rider to the ground.

Theo flung away the musket and drew his saber. He
was upon the man before the Regian regained his feet.
He swung up the blade. The Regian twisted around,
arms raised against the blow.

Theo halted the stroke in midair. The blade fell from
his hands. He stared into the terrified face of Count Las
Bombas -

In the moment it took the count to recognize him,
Theo had pulled him to his feet. Las Bombas paid no
heed to Theo's blurted questions.

"Mickle!" shouted Las Bombas- "It was Mickle!"

Theo at first understood nothing. The count brought
his face closer. "She's with me! We were escaping. You
shot her!"

Theo staggered at the count's words. His rage van-
ished, driven out by the new horror of what he had
done. Everything around him turned to nightmare. The
stench of old blood caught in his throat. He saw Stock's
body again, and the Monkey, the kestrel's shrieking

[2001

rang in his ears. All of it had brought him to this and
had, finally, swept away even Mickle.

Justin had followed. "No prisoners. Kill him. Have
done."

Theo rounded on him. "It's Las Bombas. You know
him. He was here with Mickle. I may have killed her."

Justin still did not comprehend. Las Bombas had
caught the reins of his horse and was urging Theo to
hurry.

Theo ran back to where he had left his mount- Las
Bombas, in the saddle, set his horse between Theo and
Justin.

"Listen to me!" cried Las Bombas. "We had to dress
as Regians. The queen was on her way to Mull. Queen
Augusta, don't you understand? She could be badly
hurt. Or killed—"

"Not the only one," Justin flung back. "Queen? What
do I care for any of her like!"

The redheaded tradesman, apron spattered, had come
up with some of his comrades. "We have the town. It's
ours now."

Justin spun around. "You have nothing. Yours? You
can't hold it. They'll send reinforcements."

"Yes, but we'll hold it awhile." The man grinned
bleakly. "We're all dead men, I know that. There's a
troop on the way. We'll stand them off a time. Enough
to let you take your men out. You can't help us, but we
can help you."

Theo, mounted, rode to the count's side. Justin
snatched at the reins. "You follow orders. Get your
people together."

"You're in command again," Theo cried. "Take them

[201

out yourself. You don't need me. I'm going after
Mickle."

Justin made an enormous effort to control himself
His voice was ice- "You know what this means. Deser-
tion under fire. Court-martial. I'll overlook it if you start
this instant for La Jolie. You don't understand what
you're doing."

"I understand exactly what I'm doing." Theo wheeled
his horse. Leaving justin in the square, he galloped in
the direction Mickle had taken. Las Bombas beside him-

Hoping she had halted only a little distance away,
Theo cast an eye into every comer. He saw no riderless
horse, no sign of Mickle. The firing had started again.

As far as he could judge, Mickle had not gone toward
the high Domirians, but westward out of Eschbach into
the foothills. He pressed on. Las Bombas heaving and
panting behind him. His horse was lathered by the time
they reached the first fringe of woodland. The count
begged him to halt and reined up his own mount. '

The stretch of woods lay bare and empty. Theo
strained his ears for some sound among the dead leaves.
"She's gone farther. She'll have to stop somewhere."

Las Bombas had begun stripping off his Regian tunic.
"This wretched thing nearly cost our lives in the town
hall. They took us for Regians there, it was all we could
do to outrun them. Then, you!"

"How could I know? I kill Regians."

"You kill uniforms!" retorted Las Bombas. His face
softened. He looked sadly at Theo. "I'm sorry. You
couldn't help it. Yes, my boy, we'll find her. Give me
a moment. I'm not quite over the shock, seeing you
this way.

i202]

"I couldn't believe my eyes," Las Bombas went on-
"My dear boy, 1 hardly knew you. You looked like a
madman. I could have taken you for—why, even for
that bloodthirsty fellow, Kestrel."

"1 am Kestrel," Theo said. "No. I was Kestrel."

(203]

Weasel had recovered, but Sparrow still worried about
him, a new sensation for her. Before, as much as he
had exasperated her and tried her patience, she had
never been seriously anxious about his well-being.
Weasel had never been ill a day in his life.

Soon after they had witnessed the burning of the great
house, he had fallen sick; Sparrow could not imagine
what ailed him. He seemed feverish, yet his brow did
not feel hot or even especially warm to her touch. The
two water rats had fled into the woods that night, hid-
ing there as if pursued by something monstrous, terri-
fying, and nameless. Weasel, despite the comfortable
nest Sparrow made for him in the underbrush, tossed
fitfully and slept little; when he did sleep, he whim-
pered and yelled and ended by waking himself up.

Sparrow tended him as best she could. She had stolen
ample food. Weasel refused it. She realized he must be
sick indeed, but had no idea what to do for him. She
continued her medical treatment, which consisted of
sitting by him day and night, watching silently, and

(2041

stroking his hair to soothe him when he turned rest-
less.

Suddenly, he recovered. One morning, he roused,
looked around, and demanded something to eat. He
wolfed down all the provisions Sparrow had been sav-
ing. He was his old self again; but not entirely, and this
was what worried her. His narrow face had a sallow
cast, he was thinner, he looked more than ever like his
namesake Even after he was up and around, and as
aggravating as he had always been, he seemed peaky -
Sometimes an odd, haunted look came into his eyes.

If only they could find Keller, Sparrow believed, all
would be well. She did not understand why she felt so
miserable without him, suffering in ways she could not
describe, since it was unclear to her why she was suf-
fering in the first place. She only knew it was necessary
to find him. When Weasel showed signs of tiring or
drew, frightened, into himself, she talked to him about
Keller and he always cheered up, as if he were listening
to a marvelous fairy tale.

They continued eastward through woodlands and
gently sloping hills, trudging hand in hand. Had they
been less ingenious, they would have starved. Had they
been more imaginative, they would have seen the im-
possibility of their goal and given it up. Being merely
practical, they dealt with whatever came to hand.

They adapted the scavenging methods from their old
days in The Fingers. Instead of combing the inlets for
whatever the nver brought, or rowing into the port of
Mananstat, they navigated over land into small farms
and hamlets, begging or stealing what they could.
Sometimes they met with disappointment. Reaching a

[205]

village, they occasionally found it deserted, the houses
charred and gutted. This became more often the case as
they continued farther east. Sometimes they left empty-
handed, having no wish to search closer, for they both,
unlike themselves in the past, had developed a distaste
for dead bodies. Weasel, especially, now shunned them.
On their boldest forays, they crept into Regian encamp-
ments. There, danger was greatest; but so were the
pickings.

It began turning chilly at night. It occurred to Spar-
row that they must find something better than shelter-
ing in thickets. She wanted a more permanent base
where she could accumulate provisions for the winter,
where they could return at the end of a day: What she
wanted, simply, was a home.

In time, she found the spot: a fair-sized chamber
formed by a tumble of rocks. The water rats added dead
limbs entwined with smaller branches to make a roof
and a rough screen at the chamber's entry. What de-
tracted them was not only the cavetike shelter but, still
more, its closeness to a large town, the largest they had
seen since leaving Marianstat. It would be their trea-
sure mine, their hunting ground. It was full of Regians,
which made it all the better. Sparrow had quickly
learned that Regians enjoyed supplies of every kind;

the enemy was always ripe for plucking. She did not
know the name of the town, and it did not interest her.
It would have meant nothing even had she known it
was called Eschbach.

They decided, next morning, to survey it. They set
out happily, as if their fortune awaited them. Closer to
Eschbach, Weasel grew terribly agitated. Sharp ex-

[2061

changes of firing were coming from the town; under-
lying them, the deep roar of explosions. Black smoke
had overcast the clear sky. Weasel began to shake, his
face puckered. Since his illness, loud noises upset him.
Sparrow feared he might go strange again. She took his
hand and led him back, calculating that they might
venture into the town later when it quieted.

They had not gone any distance when she stopped
and motioned Weasel to leave off his whimpering. What
had caught her eye was a white horse, saddled and bri-
dled, tethered to a shrub. The prospect delighted her,
new vistas opened. The horse would serve as transport;

as a pack animal, it would allow them to carry off enor-
mous amounts of plunder. Weasei forgot his distress
and brightened.

Only then did Sparrow notice a figure sitting on a
boulder. From the uniform, she recognized it as a Reg-
ian officer. She counted this another stroke of luck. She
had learned from experience that officers were richer
than common soldiers. The Regiao had not heard them
approach. He sat hunched over, head between his
knees. He looked as if he had just been sick.

The water rats crept up silently. Weasel, careless,
stepped on a dry twig. The Regian turned, staring be-
wildered. For that passing instant. Sparrow saw in his
face the same haunted look that so troubled her in
Weasel. The officer made a vague defensive motion with
his hand and tried to get up. By then, it was too late.
Sparrow and Weasel were upon him.

Their onslaught shook him out of his numbness. The
officer, though slender, proved strong. They wrestled
him back and forth; he tried to shake them off, but they

[207|

clung doggedly. The officer succeeded, at one moment,
in flinging Weasel aside. The Regian had only assured
his own defeat. Weasel returned to the charge. He
clenched his fist into a hard, tight ball and punched the

officer squarely in the nose.

The Regian sat down, choking and snuffling, his nose
bleeding a river. Sparrow and Weasel seized the chance
to rip away the braids decorating his tunic and use them
as cords. The Regian now offered only the feeblest re-
sistance. Within moments, his arms were securely
bound. He slumped dejected, stunned by more than
Weasel's fist, for the spirit had entirely gone out of him.

The water rats began searching him, turning out his
pockets, rummaging in his tunic. They were extremely
disappointed at finding nothing whatever. His boots
were too big for either of them, but they could salvage
his clothes; and there was always the horse-
Weasel, nevertheless, was vexed. The officer, he de-
cided , must be hid ing something, and he began

searching him again

"Let me alone," said the officer. "I never carry

money."

"You might know," Weasel told Sparrow. "When we

get a Regian, it's a poor one."

"If you're after money," said the captive, "you can

have all you want."

"What good is it here?" said Sparrow. "Food's what

we need."

"You'll have that, too. Let me go. You'll be given

whatever you ask."

Sparrow had a better chance to observe her prize. He
was younger than she had first thought. His attempt at

1208)

a moustache was pitiful. There was also something def-
initely wrong with him, though he had no wound ex-
cept the one Weasel had bestowed on him. The firing
had started again, much louder. The Regian flinched as
if he had been struck.

"We'll let you go after you pay up, not before,"
Sparrow said. "If you can get us all you say, I want my
eye on you."

"I'll give you my parole."

"What's that?" asked Weasel. "Do you have it on
you?"

"It's a rule of war," said the young Regian. "If an
officer's captured, he gives his parole he won't try to
escape. He gives his word."

"I want better than that," said Sparrow. "Come on,
we'll take you into town. We'll stay with you until we
get our pay."

"Ransom," said the young officer. "That's what it's
called."

"Whatever you call it," said^ Weasel, "we want it.
Come on."

"No—not now." The officer had paled. "They're still
fighting. No, I can't go there now. Wait. It has to end."

Sparrow suddenly realized something. "You're afraid,
aren't you? You're a coward."

The Regian did not answer. Sparrow was satisfied she
had understood his difficulty. "Good for you. Keller says
most people are. He says it shows common sense."

The Regian, even so, was turning out to be more
problem than prize. It now occurred to her that if she
and Weasel took the Regian into the town, his friends
might simply snatch him away. She could send Weaset

to bargain with the Regians while she guarded the
prisoner; but she was reluctant to let her brother go
alone. There was no telling what might happen to him,
especially if the fighting started again. The safest course
was to bring the captive to the shelter and keep him
there until she had a better idea. With Weasei leading
the horse, she prodded the officer along to the cave.

The young man seemed grateful to have any sort of
roof over his head, though little interested in the food
Sparrow offered. She and Weasel agreed it was best to
keep him tied, despite his promise; so she was obliged
to feed him mouthful by mouthful. That he was Regian
made no difference to her. Had he been dead, she
would have picked his pockets. As he was sick, she
tended him.

Weasel, having overcome his disappointment, was
fascinated. It was the first time he had talked with a
Regian. This one seemed no different from anyone else.
Weasel asked his name. The officer hesitated.

"You may call me—yes, 1 suppose you may as well
call me Connie,"

"You should be fighting," said Weasel. "What are you
doing here?"

The officer did not reply for a time. He appeared to
be under a heavy burden.

Finally, as if it were the only way to lift it from him-
self, he blurted out: "Have you ever fought? Have you
seen a battle? I hadn't, not until today. I was riding into
town with my escort—with friends—when it started.
The enemy—you people—had a cannon. They fired into
us. My aide was next to me. The cannonball—"

The Regian broke off. Sparrow feared he would be
sick. burst into tears, or do both.

{2-10}

"You ran away?" said Weasel. "I don't blame you."

"It was despicable, cowardly," said Connie. "I
couldn't help it. I never knew what it would really be
like. I didn't want to run. It just happened of itself. You
won't tell anybody, will you?"

"It's no business of mine," said Sparrow. "Besides, I
don't think it's—whatever you said it was You don't
seem a bad sort, for a Regian."

"You don't hate me?"

"Why should I?" said Sparrow. "I hardly know you."

The young Regian looked at her for a long time.
"You're an odd sort of girl. Quite remarkable for a com-
moner."

"She's very common," put in Weasel, "but not re-
markable."

"Do you live in the woods?" the Regian asked. "Do
you have some occupation?"

"We're looking for Keller," said Weasel. "Do you
know where he is? He's teaching us to be scriveners. 1
used to be a thief, but not anyrapre."

The captive had dropped into -his own thoughts.
Weasel, exhausted by his day, curled up and went to
sleep. Sparrow stayed wakeful. The Regian had dosed
his eyes, but soon turned restless. Sparrow treated him
as she had created Weasel, stroking his forehead, talk-
ing to him gently when he woke in alarm.

Once, during such a spell, more asleep than awake,
the prisoner sat up and stared past her as if trying to
make out something at a great distance. Sparrow
soothed him and he lay back again.

Before he slept, in a tone of astonishment at himself,
he said: "Do you know—1 used to play with toy sol-
diers."

12H1

Weasel could not believe his good luck. Regians were     ^
practically raining down on him Next morning, he      r
caught another.                                         ^

Sparrow had decided that Weasel should first spy out     1&
the town. He was not to go into Eschbach, but only see    , ^
if the fighting had stopped. Then they would discuss

matters with Connie, who had somewhat recovered     ^<

fis

from his terror of the day before.                           H

Weasel, then, had set out armed with Connie's saber,     ^

LF-

which was too heavy for him, and Connie's cap, which
was too big for him. Hardly out of sight of the cave,     ^
Weasel glimpsed another Regian stumbling toward him,
leading another horse. This Regian looked in much
worse case than Connie. One side of the officer's tunic     ;

was bloodstained, and he seemed hardly able to keep
to his feet.

Yelling for Sparrow, Weasel brought up the saber,
which he had been carrying over his shoulder, and     ^
charged: an onrush made slower than he intended ow-
ing to the cumbersome blade. What he lacked in speed,     ^
Weasel made up in ferocity, shouting horribly and
making warlike grimaces: to such good effect, he'chose
to believe, that the new arrival was frightened out of
of his wits- In any case, the officer fell down.

Sparrow, by this time, had joined her brother. At first,
she thought the new Regian had died. He had only
fainted and, after a few moments, was able to walk un-
steadily, supported on either side by the water rats.

"Here's a new one," Weasel announced as they
brought in their second trophy- "1 got him myself."

The effort had been too much for the already weak-
ened captive, who fainted once more. Sparrow beck-

272

oned to Connie: "You'd better come and see. He's worse
off than you are."

"Untie me, then."

Sparrow hesitated. She was not certain she wanted
two loose Regians on her hands, even though one was
unconscious.

"Parole," said Connie. "I promise."

"All right. Parole." She nodded to Weasel, who un-
did the makeshift ropes. "Do you know what to do
when someone's hurt like that?"

"Not really," admitted Connie. "I remember there was
a hunting accident once in—where I'm from. They called
a physician."

"You're no help." Sparrow snorted.

"It's a bullet wound." Connie had bent over the mo-
tionless figure- 'The first thing to see is whether it's come
out. Yes, this one has."

"Do you know him?" asked Weasel-

"No- In fact, it's a girl."

Weasel blinked. "Are you sure?"

Sparrow pushed her brother out 6f the way. She was
about to lend Connie a hand when the screening of the
shelter was ripped away. Weasel jumped for his saber.
Sparrow clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a
scream at the bearded, begrimed shape staring at her.
It was hardly a man.

She decided it was a monster.

[2t3

21

Theo and the count had searched as far into the woods
as the day allowed, continuing past nightfall, when even
Theo admitted it was useless. They rested awhile and
started back toward Eschbach. Theo had first assumed
that Mickle had ridden deep into the foothills. He won-
dered if he had miscalculated- She had, perhaps, gone
to earth somewhere closer to the town, and he had
overreached her. They began once more quartering the
ground they had so hastily passed through. It was then
he glimpsed two horses tethered beside a tumble of
branches. Las Bombas recognized one as Mickle's. The
white steed was a Regian cavalry mount.

Mickle, Theo feared, might have fallen into enemy
hands. So it appeared when he broke into the shelter
and saw one figure on the ground, a Regian hussar
bending over it. Paying no mind to what looked like a
pair of ragged goblins, he threw himself on the officer.

"Stop it! Stop!" cried one of the goblins. "It's only
Connie!"

Las Bombas had dropped to his knees beside Mickle.
"She's alive."

The hussar showed no desire to fight. Theo flung him
aside. Las Bombas had already begun examining Mick-
le's wound. Theo's musket ball had passed cleanly
through the flesh; no ribs had been broken, but she
had lost much blood. Theo would have lifted her up
but Las Bombas waved him off.

"She'll be all right, my boy. I'll tend to her. It's one
of my professions- If only 1 had my elixirs and po-
tions—"

"You know they're worthless."

"Yes," admitted the count, "but better than noth-
ing."

The hussar, escorted by the goblins, ventured closer
to Theo- Sparrow stepped between them.

"Connie's our prisoner," she said- "We'll get a ran-
som for him. He's given his parole."

"That's true," said the hussar. "Who you may be, I
have no idea. I assume you observe the rules of war-
fare."

"As much as you do," Theo said.

Las Bombas had shifted his attention from Mickle to
the hussar. He stared and climbed to his feet. Theo had
never seen the count so taken aback. Las Bombas
squinted, frowned, and shook his head- The hussar had
drawn away. Las Bombas went up to him.

"You, sir! Who the devil are you?"

The hussar did not reply. Las Bombas took the offi-
cer's face in one hand and turned the youth's head
sideways. "I don't believe what I see," he called to Theo.
"Look at that profile. I've seen it a thousand times—no,
alas, not so often—on Regian gold pieces. That's roy-
alty."

The officer pulled away. Las Bombas snatched a sa-

[215]

ber from the ground. "If you aren't King Constantine,
there are two of you, which is one more than needed."

The count's show of ferocity would have made one
of Constantine's coins find a voice. The young man
nodded. "I'm Constantine IX, king of Regia. I demand
to be treated according to my rank."

"You didn't tell us you were a king," put in Weasel.
"Will they pay more for you?"

Las Bombas turned his astonishment on Weasel and
Sparrow. "Do you half-size scarecrows have any no-
tion? Do you know what he's worth? A kingdom!"

Theo scarcely heard Las Bombas. He was concerned
for Mickle and no one else. She had begun to stir. In a
few moments, she opened her eyes- Unlike Luther and
Las Bombas, who had hesitated before recognizing
Theo, Mickle lyiew him instantly.

"I said I'd find you." Mickle grinned at him. "What
have you done to yourself? You look awful."

The count, beside himself with excitement, broke in
to tell Mickte the prisoner's identity.

She finally glanced at Constantine.

"King of Regia? Good. You're just the one I wanted
to talk to."

Las Bombas claimed that he had attended a number
of princes and dignitaries in his assorted capacities, but
he confessed that the cave of the water rats was the
most unusual place he had ever seen for a meeting be-
tween two monarchs. All the more since it shortly came
out, along with Theo's own account, that Queen Mickle
had once occupied the same hut as Sparrow and Weasel
in The Fingers; and that the pair were on friendliest

12?6]

terms not only with the famous Keller but also with the
white-haired old buffer, the queen's own chief minis-
ter.

King Constantine, who reluctantly explained his own
presence there, accepted her identity as Queen Au-
gusta, further proved by the royal signet she carried.

"The Beggar Queen," he said bitterly. "From now on,
I suppose I'll be called the Coward King."

"Connie," put in Sparrow, "I told you not to worry
about that."

"I had sent a message to General Erzcour," Constan-
tine went on. "It probably got there the morning you
saw him. I told him I was on my way to Eschbach. My
uncie agreed I could go. I wanted to see real fighting. I
did. If I'd come sooner—"

"You'd have been killed." said Theo, "along with
Erzcour."

Constantine bowed his head. "It would have been
more honorable than this."

"That's stupid, Connie," said Mickle. "We're both
alive. 1 like it better that way'r You saved me a trip to
Mull. We can settle things between us right now—if
you want to."

"Yes," Constantine said. "I want to end this whole
bloody mess. I thought, at first, a nice little war would
be marvelous. We all wanted it: Erzcour, Montmollin,
my uncle. Cabbarus wanted it most of all He had a
hand in everything from the beginning. I'll deal with
him when I get back. For now, I only want it all to
stop."

Mickle had begun explaining her plan to the king
when Las Bombas put a finger to his lips. "Dear girl,"

t277]

he whispered, "you hold the trump card: a king! His
life's at stake. You don't have to give anything. You're
a splendid general, but you have much to leam about
diplomatic dickering."

Mickle reminded the count that she would have made
the offer in any circumstances. Despite his advice, she
kept.nothing hidden from Constantine. Although he
had little choice, he gladly accepted. His spirits had
risen. The treaty, he felt, made up for his behavior at
Eschbach-

"They won't call me the Coward King now," he said.
"I'll be Constantine the Conciliator."

The rest of the meeting went less easily. Mickle,
weakened though she was, would have gone immedi-
ately with Constantine to Eschbach or the nearest Reg-
ian headquarters. Theo was against it. He and Las
Bombas agreed that even if the king was dealing in good
faith, they had no assurance that Constantine's officers
would not close ranks around their monarch and kill
his captors out of hand.

The Regian army, furthermore, was already ,on the
march through the Sabrina valley. There was no time
to halt it. With or without a treaty, there would be
slaughter at La Jolie unless they reached it quickly. The
king, Theo insisted, must leave immediately for Flo-
rian's camp. He himself would take him. Mickle could
follow with Las Bombas and the water rats.

"All right, Connie will go to Florian," said Mickle. "I
agree to that, but not to the rest of it. We'll stay to-
gether, all of us."

On this point Mickle refused to budge, although Theo
protested that she was in no case to travel. He urged

her to stay a few days in the care of Las Bombas and
the water rats-

"! can ride as well as any of you," said Mickle. "You
shot me in the side, not the saddle."

Seeing it was useless trying to make her change her
mind, Theo ordered Sparrow and Weasel to pack up
their store of provisions and make ready to go. Las
Bombas and King Constantine lent them a hand, while
Theo stayed a few more moments with Mickle, who had
promised to rest until all was prepared.

"Before I started for Mull," she told him, "before I
had any notion of what happened to you, my mother
said something to me. She said you didn't come back
because you'd taken up with someone else."

"She was wrong. You know that."

"Yes," Mickle said, "but sometimes I've wondered
since then, even if you hadn't found someone else, how
you felt—"

"I sent a message with Luther. I said that 1 loved you.
It seems long ago."           1-

"It was. But it's not long ago anymore. It's now."
• "Yes." He hesitated. Mickle was watching him
closely. Finally, he said, "Yes, I do love you- Now. As
much as I'm able."

Mickle gave him a questioning glance, then said
lightly, "Does that mean more? Or less?"

"It only means—" Theo began. "It only means that
I've hated so much for so long, I'm sick with it. 1 don't
recognize myself. I'm not even sure I know what loving
is."

Mickte nodded. "I suppose," she said quietly, "I'll
have to wait until you find out."

[219}

22

Weasel perched on the saddle with Theo, Sparrow with
King Constantine. Discovering that Connie was king of
Regia in no way overawed Sparrow. What did impress
her was that he had eight ancestors with the same
name.

"I don't know how you keep track of them," she told
him.

"It isn't easy," said Constantine- "When this is over,
you come and visit Breslin Palace. I'll show you pic-
tures of them. There's not much difference, though. We
all look rather alike."

"I've already been to a palace," said Sparrow. "It
wasn't interesting. Yours might be better. Yes, I'd like
to see those ancestors sometime. 1 don't have any
ancestors at all."

"You're lucky. They can be a burden, especially un-
cles." Constantine said no more. The king of Regia had
undergone some new experiences which he had not yet
digested. Never before had he been so terrified. Never
before had he been punched in the nose. Even so, he

|220|

had, on his own, made a fine treaty with Augusta. He
felt in good spirits and decided that this was not the
time to discuss family matters.

Theo did not try to find Justin and his company. They
were, surely, following a similar direction. Justin, how-
ever, had probably chosen a line of march allowing him
to keep to the lower and easier slopes. Theo headed
straight through the hills, a path more difficult but
shorter. Less encumbered, he hoped to save precious
time. With luck, he could reach La Jolie before the week
was out.

He pressed on, in all haste, Mickle beside him. Con-
stantine following, and Las Bombas bringing up the
rear. Justin, Theo supposed, would demand a court-
martial. Of this, he said nothing to Mickle. He was too
weary, and too sick at heart, to care about it. He wanted
only to bring his party quickly and safely to Florian.

Over the next few days, he made better progress than
he had hoped. Mickte kept the pace; but did so, he was
aware, with growing difficulty. When he tried to
slacken, she insisted on going faster, claiming she was
not suffering at all-
It was a pretense even Mickle, with all her skill, could
not maintain. Within a few leagues of La Jolie, her
wound opened again; she was weaker than ever from
loss of blood and exhaustion. Theo had planned to keep
on throughout the last night of the march. Instead, he
ordered a halt. Mickle, for once, did not protest.

To make matters worse, the king of Regia wrenched
his back unsaddling his horse. All the efforts of Las
Bombas did nothing to ease Constantine's agony. The

[227

king could scarcely move, let alone ride. The water rats
were as fresh as when they started, but the count, him-
self saddlesore and weary, pleaded for a few hours of
rest.

So close to FIorian's camp, Theo could not bring him-
self to delay that long. He ordered Las Bombas to tend
Mickle and the king while he rode ahead. They were to
set out the next day as early as they could. If Mickle
and Constantine were unable to travel, Theo would send
a party back to help them. He would at least report the
news to Ftorian.

He reached the lowlands a little after dawn. FIorian's
encampment spread over the meadows of the Mont-
mollin estate, the blackened shell of the great house
looming up in the center. He urged the last strength
from his mount. Tents had been pitched in the deer
park and the gardens, where he glimpsed Jellinek tervd-
ing a cook fire. Zara came running to him as soon as
he jumped down. He saw Musket, armed with saber
and pistol. He barely took a moment to embrace the
dwarf and the russet divinity; and to catch sight of a
young man wearing general's insignia, who had just
arrived with the queen's advance guard. Zara motioned
Theo to the great house.

In the ruined grand salon, with its shattered case-
ments and shreds of charred drapery blowing like beg-
gars' rags, FIorian in his old blue greatcoat sat at a small
table with an older man. Between them stood a wine
bottle and two glasses. Legs crossed, leaning back at his
ease on the remains of a brocaded chair, FIorian beck-
oned to Theo, seeming more preoccupied than aston-
ished.

[222]

As quickly as he could, Theo reported what had hap-
pened. Instead of rejoicing, FIorian took the news calmly
and with a bleak smile.

"Strange fortunes of war," he said. "Yesterday, it
could have made all the difference in the world. Today,
I'm not certain. We've had one engagement already, an
expensive one, with the Regian advance columns from
the Sabrina valley. Duke Conrad, I understand, is in
command. He has even more troops than I expected.
General Witz has done his best, but we're far outnum-
bered. Constantine may be too late to save many lives.
We shall, if Conrad has any military sense at all, soon
come under a full attack."

FIorian broke off. He turned to the older man, who
had risen from his chair. "Forgive me. Baron Montmol-
lin, allow me to present one of my officers: Colonel
Kestrel, as he pleases to call himself."

Theo started. "Who told you I took that name?"

"There's been much talk of Kestrel," said FIorian. "I
only guessed. No, more than a-guess. An assumption.
I know you better than you give me credit for."

Baron Montmollin bowed gracefully. His clothing.
stained and a little threadbare, had been carefully
brushed. "General FIorian and I were discussing a mat-
ter of some importance: the quality of this wine. That
it was somehow overlooked during a recent visit by my
tenants I account a whim of fate. It is the last of a splen-
did vintage, laid down in the year of my birth.

"The general finds it has a charming bouquet. To my
palate, a touch of acidity. Would you care to give your
opinion?"

The baron stopped and looked past Theo, who fo!-

[22J

lowed his glance. Justin was in the doorway. Theo went
to him, hand outstretched. Justin shouldered him aside,
and strode up to Flonan.

"Your second-in-command has arrived ahead of you/"
said Florian. "He has interesting news."

"He's not my second-in-command," said Justin. "He
has no right to command anything. At Eschbach—"

"I know about that," Florian said. "It has no bearing
at the moment. Theo tells me the king of Regia has been
captured. If he can be brought here in time, he may be
useful. If not—" Flonan shrugged. "Meantime, please
excuse us. 1'lt talk with you later. Baron Montmollin and
I—"

"Montmollin?" cried Justin. His scar was livid, his
face darkened with anger. "You let him live? You sit
drinking wine with him? The traitor ought to be shot."

"There will be shooting enough before this ^ay is
out," Florian said. "Be patient."

"\ say do it now," Justin retorted. "Do it before the
Regians attack or they'll snatch him away from us. He
must be executed in front of all the troops. We'll have
that much justice, no matter what else."

"You would deny me a trial, sir?" put in Montmollin.
"I had the impression that a man's right to speak in his
own defense was among your noble causes. Or have I
misunderstood? Justice, perhaps, may best be served
by disregarding it?"

"How dare you even speak the word?" Justin flung
back. "Trial? You've been tried and sentenced by every
man and woman killed because of your treachery."

"Sir," Montmollin replied, smiling weanly, "I do not
recognize the legality of your court."

"Leave us, Justin," Florian said quietly.

(224

Justin did not move. His eye had fallen on a silver-
mounted pistol beside the wine bottle. For a moment,
Theo expected him to seize the weapon and carry out
the sentence then and there.

"Leave us," Florian repeated. "I order you."

Justin turned his furious glance on Florian, who said
no more but whose eyes had gone bright and cold. Fi-
nally, without another word. Justin spun on his heel
and walked out of the room.

Montmollin, silent during this, stood up. "An unset-
tling interruption. General. Shall we agree that our dis-
cussion was inconclusive? Now, if we have no further
business—"

Florian rose and bowed to Montmollin. Theo fol-
lowed Florian from the salon. Only then did Theo give
way to his own anger.

"You can't mean to let Montmollin go! No, not shoot
him out of hand. Justin was wrong. But the man be-
trayed the kingdom. You know that. You can't ignore
it- He must come to trial."

"He has conducted his own trial," said Florian. "I
will not see him in front of a firing squad or on a scaf-
fold. I will not allow it, no matter what he has done.
Call it a weakness on my part."

A shot rang from the great house. Florian continued
to walk without breaking stride. He did not look back.

"He has rendered a verdict on himself," Horian said.
"I want this house burnt to the ground- I want nothing
left of it." He hatted a moment. "Zara knows. So shall
you. No one else. My real name is Montmollin. The
baron was my father."

Soon after. Las Bombas galloped into La Jolie with
the news: King Constantine was gone-

1225]

"Broke his royal word'" cried Las Bombas. "I'll break
his royal neck' Constantine the Conciliator? Conniver,
more like it! He never had a thought of keeping his
parole. Wrenched his back? I'll give him another kind
of lame excuse. 1 should have known better, I should
have tied the little dandy hand and foot."

"If I see him," put in Weasel, shaking his fist, "I'll
punch him in the nose again."

Theo had gone to Mickle, helping her dismount. She
seemed hardly better than the day before, pale and
somewhat feverish from both the pain of her wound
and her distress at the king's flight.

"I never thought it of Connie," she murmured. "\
really believed we'd come to good terms."

"The only terms left to us," said Florian, "are fight or
surrender."

Florian called a last council in his tent. Zara sent for
Justin while Theo and General Witz half carried Mickle
between them.

"Your Majesty," said Witz, "beg to report that 1 did
all possible. The Regians attacked as I began to with-

[226]

draw from Altus-Birkenfeld. I was obliged to leave some
of the regiments there to hold them back Here, we are
only at half-strength- According to my calculations—"

"Dear Witz," Mickle said to the distraught general,
"no one could have done better. None of it matters now.
The best of us are here together, whatever happens."

As Theo helped her into Flonan's tent, he heard an
explosion and a roar like rushing wind. He glanced
back. The great house of La Jolie was burning.

Uninvited to the council. Sparrow and Weasel had
^   gone off on their own. That Constantine had broken

\

:    his word, that most of the army of Westmark stood an
excellent chance of being destroyed, that the camp itself
could be taken by storm in a matter of hours carried

1-   little weight with Sparrow. She had something more

"'    urgent in mind.

Keeping a firm grip on Weasel's hand, she strode
briskly, unhurried but purposeful and confident,
through the horse lines, through the field of tents and
the stands of muskets, making her way among the de-
tachments of royal troops and irregulars. She asked for
neither directions nor information, navigating as surely
as she had ever done on the river-
Only after she had searched most of the encampment
did her confidence begin to fray. She had tramped half-
way across Westmark, nursed Weasel through his sick-
ness, captured a king, and looked on more death and
destruction than she could have imagined. In all this,
she had dung only to three certainties: that she. Wea-
sel, and Keller would never come to harm. She had been
right, so far, about the first two. The third was now
open to question.

[227]

Having failed to find the journalist on her own, she
decided to inquire among the soldiers. Then she de-
cided not to-

She wanted an answer.

She feared the answer she might get.

At last, near one of the earthworks. Sparrow stopped
short. With his back to her, a man was perched on a
wooden keg. He was loading a musket. Like his com-
rades, he wore a red nbbon knotted around the arm of
his shabby coat.

"Keller!"

The man turned. His pinched face was the color of
dirty clay. He seemed in the grip of some wasting ill-
ness. He put down the musket and ramrod.

"Well, I'll be damned—or blessed, as the case may
be," said Keller. "It's the water rats."

Sparrow reached him ahead of her brother, and thi^v
her arms around him.

The war, as far as she was concerned, had just ended.

The council couid not agree. Witz maintained that
they should hold out to the last man, which he counted
on being. He sided, however, with Theo, who insisted
on sending the queen, with a strong escort, immedi-
ately to Marianstat.

Justin, who had spumed Theo's attempt to talk with
him about Rina, seemed withdrawn and at odds with
everyone else. He spoke only once, declaring that his
company, and all the irregulars, should no longer sup-
port the queen in a hopeless battle- He was ready to
lead his own troops back into the hills, whether Florian
agreed or not.

"This is wonderful," Mickle said. "Now we start

[228}

bickering among ourselves. That makes it much easier
for the Regians. Justin, I'm sorry for what happened,
but I won't let you go sulking off tike a spoiled child.
If it turns out that you're needed here, you'll stay—or
you'll have me to deal with. As for Theo, if he expects
me to turn and run to save my own neck, he's mis-
taken. I'll also remind General Witz that we've kept the
army together so far and 1 won't throw it away to no
purpose."

"Retreat again?" said Witz. He had counted on prov-
ing himself to his monarch by the ultimate sacrifice,
i&   and he did not want to be done out of it- "Your Maj-
esty, allow me at least—"

"I'll allow you to follow my orders," Mickle said. "Yes,
we'll retreat to the Vespera if we must, and hold a line
there."

"With the river at your back," warned Florian. "Even
so, I'm not sure you'll have time. My people will cover
your retreat, but we may not be able to hold long
enough."

"The Regians could outflank us, in any case," put in
Zara. "They'll attack you while you're on the march."

"An army retreating is an oyster without a shell,"
added Las Bombas. "Theo has the right of it. Marian-
stat's the place for you. I volunteer to make sure you
get there— Ah, in fact, I'll go with you."

One ot Florian's officers had come 'in. He went di-
rectly to Florian and said something in his ear. Florian
smiled bitterly.

"Our choice may be already made for us," he told the
others. "It would seem a squadron of cavalry is prepar-
- ing to engage us. Constantine might have paid us the
compliment of sending at least a regiment,"

[229}

Telling Witz to have all troops stand to their arms,
Florian pulled up the collar of his coat and strode from
the tent to observe the Regian movements for himself.
The others followed, Mickle insisting on going with
them.

Theo and Las Bombas held back a few moments. They
had foreseen Mickle's refusal to leave for Marianstat.
The count had already arranged for Musket to be on
hand with" Friska and the coach. The dwarf had fol-
lowed his instructions and was there waiting when Zara
and Justin started after Florian.

"Musket knows what to do," Las Bombas murmured
to Theo. "If we manage to get her into the coach, he'll
set off neck or nothing for Marianstat. Call it kidnap-
ping if you like, but she'll be well out of here." He
turned to Mickle. "Get in, dear girl. You'll be more
comfortable. We'll ride on, you'll join us."

Mickle, to Theo's relief, gladly accepted to ride in the
coach instead of on horseback. The count's vehicle, bat-
tered and mud-stained, had been her first headquarters
at the Alma. "It might as well be the last," said Mickle,
climbing in. "It's the only place now that feels like
home."

Theo and the count urged their horses across the
stubble fields to the most advanced erf the earthworks.
Florian was there ahead of them. Hatless, his faded blue
greatcoat flapping in the autumn breeze, he stood with
a spyglass to his eye. The Regian cavalry had drawn
closer, gaining speed.

"If Florian thought a regiment would be a compli-
ment," Las Bombas said dourly, "I don't know what
he'd call that, over there. Fulsome flattery?"

The count pointed. Behind the advancing squadron,

(230]

the Regian infantry had come into line. To the front
and right flank, the troops stretched as far as Theo could
see; the sun glinted on the points of their bayonets. He
had not dared to say farewell to Mickle; it would have
betrayed his plan. He wished now he could have taken
a few moments alone with her.

He turned for a last glimpse of the coach. Musket, by
now, should have veered off onto the Marianstat road.
Theo, alarmed, called out to Las Bombas, who was
gloomily watching the Regian lines. The dwarf was
driving Friska, with all speed, toward the front.

Theo shouted for Musket to stop. Las Bombas waved
furiously at the dwarf.

"Idiot! You've gone the wrong way! Turn around! Go
back!"

The dwarf slowed long enough for Mickle to put her
head out the window. "I wouldn't be much of a general
if 1 couldn't guess what the enemy might do," she
called. "Or, in this case, my friends."

The count shook a fist at the disobedient dwarf. "Do
as you're told!"

"I am." Musket grinned and shrugged. "Anything
else would be mutiny and insubordination, as I see it.
I'm under the queen's orders. She's my commanding
officer. She just made me a captain."

Florian was calling to Theo. The Regian cavalry had
halted. A handful of officers rode forward. One of them
raised a lance from which a banner unfurled, spreading
as the breeze plucked it.

"That's no Regian flag," cried Las Bombas. "There's
nothing— It's completely white! By heaven, a flag of
truce!"

Mickie had heard the count's exclamation; so had

[231]

Musket, who halted the coach, uncertain of his orders.
Mickle sprang out and climbed to the box beside him-
FIorian, too, had seen the white flag and had hastily
mounted. Before Theo and Las Bombas could do like-
wise, Mickle snatched the reins, whistled through her
teeth, and sent Friska plunging past the earthworks into
the open field -

Before Mickle had gone halfway/ a slim figure broke
from the group of officers and galloped to meet her.
Mickle reined up and jumped from the box.

"Connie!"

King Constantine dismounted and ran to her, hold-
ing out his hand. "My uncle's back there, and my staff
officers. I told them to wait. I want to talk to you first,
privately."

"Get out of the wind, then," said Mickle. "You'll catch
your death of cold."

Constantine followed her into the coach and began
hastily: "Before my uncle and all the rest of them start
in—it's going to be formal, official, and all such—be-
tween us, you have to know this.

"1 once broke my word to Baron Montmoliin. I broke
it again when I ran away from you and your friends-
But it was for a different reason."

Constantine paused a moment, then looked squarely
at Mickle. "I'm not all that much of a fool, you know."

"I never took you for one, Connie."

"My uncle doesn't realize it," said Constantine, "but
I know very well what he thinks of me as a king. I used
to hear him talking to Erzcour. I'm quite aware they
both would have been happier if—well, if I were out of
the way. He didn't make any effort to stop me when 1

[232

left for Eschbach. He'd always kept me from going to
the front. This time, he didn't seem to mind. I don't
mean he planned anything—no, I don't believe he'd
have gone so far- Still, he wouldn't have been dis-
pleased if I'd met with an accident—as I nearly did."

"Why did you run off?" asked Mickle. "We'd have
taken you to Flonan's headquarters, you'd have been
perfectly safe- We'd have sent word that you were our
prisoner, that we were holding you hostage. We'd have
had your life in our hands—" Mickle frowned. "Yes, I
see what you mean."

"Exactly so," Constantine said ruefully. "As a hos-
tage, I was worth nothing to you. My life in your hands?
It would have suited Uncle Conrad very well if you'd
killed me. What I'm telling you is a secret, only be-
tween monarchs. It's enough that you and I know it,
and I'll keep my eye on him in future.

"I went back because Uncle Conrad wouldn't have
dared try any tricks, not with all my staff officers around
me. And certainly not when I was bringing such a
splendid treaty.              ''

"Oh—I hope you have pen and ink," Constantine
added. "We'll need them, and state seals, and the whole
business, for the official document. I didn't note down
any of the terms when we talked about them, but they
will be the same, just as you said? i'll take your word
for that."

"Yes, Connie," said Mickle, "and I'll take your word,
too."

[233

Torrens was glad of the rain. A fair day would have
mocked his mood. He watched from a casement in the
ministerial chambers. Despite the weather, all Marian-
stat had been festive for two days and nights, singing,,
dancing in the streets, as joyous at the end of the war
as they were at its beginning. They had turned out to
cheer their queen and her returning troops; they had
cheered the parade of city militia; they had cheered Flo-
rian and Justin- They believed they were celebrating a
victory. Torrens knew better.

Queen Augusta had shown the courage, strength, and
intelligence Torrens hoped for in his monarch. She had
ended the war honorably- King Constantine, of his own
accord, had granted equal concessions, including the
rebuilding of towns destroyed by the Regian army and
the replenishment of grain lost in the failed harvest.
There had been no triumph on either side, though each
claimed one. For his part, Torrens had worked mira-
cles. He was not pleased with them.

The queen had held her army together. Torrens had
done likewise for the kingdom. He had done more than

[234]

raise troops, provisions, and arms- He had stiffened the
spirit of his people, giving them courage even when his
own had failed. From the Juliana Palace, he had an-
nounced victories in battles that had never been fought,
in places that were only names on a map. He had pro-
claimed stem laws against those who spoke or wrote or
published questioning the conduct of the war, and
sternly carried them out. He applied justice, recogniz-
ing it was injustice. Had he done less, he knew beyond
a doubt that, for all her efforts, Augusta would have
lost. He had convinced her subjects of certain victory
And so, as far as they were concerned, Westmark had
defeated Regia. Torrens had only defeated himself.

Queen Caroline sat on a couch near his desk. If Tor-
rens had given his strength to the kingdom, Caroline
had given hers to him. Torrens found this ironic. In the
days of Cabbarus, he had been the one who supported
her. Now it had turned to the contrary. Caroline con-
tinued to astonish him. He was deeply troubled over
Ftorian and Justin, but Caroline^received them both at
the palace. Today, she had come to inquire if her
daughter had taken up the question of medals and dec-
orations, and to leam the chief minister's attitude.

Torrens turned away from the casement. "Queen Au-
gusta has not yet discussed the matter with me. I am
not sure what the government's policy should be. That
they deserve highest honor for bravery I freely admit.
The queen must also be aware that Florian and Justin
have gained widespread support for their cause. How-
ever, their cause is not ours. To decorate them would
appear to give official approval, to encourage them in
their future actions."

"They should be given the Star of Westmark for what

[235|

they have done," said Caroline, "not what they may
do. They conducted themselves with utmost gallantry,
with the selfless devotion of true heroes, as did all our
brave soliders—"

Caroline broke off. Her daughter had come into the
chamber. "My dear child. Dr. Torrens and I have been
discussing—"

"Yes," Mickle said, "I heard."

Torrens went to her. She drew away from him, and
from her mother's outstretched arms. "Do either of you
believe a word of what you've been saying? Yes, I think
you really do, and that's the worst of it."

Caroline frowned. "Do you not approve? You, more
than anyone, must know how well deserved—"

"I approve," said Mickle. "Yes, by all means. For gal-
lantry? If you want to call it that. For turning them-
selves into beasts for the sake of the kingdom? Yes, give
them a piece of gold and a ribbon. Give medals to the
dead, while you're at it."

Caroline turned to Torrens. "What has put my
daughter in such a state? Please, Doctor, see to her. I
will send for Theo."

"Theo?" cried Mickle. "Yes, send for him. Send for
him if you can. Do you know where he is? I don't. He's
gone."

Theo had vanished: not from Marianstat, but from
himself. What he least wanted to remember he had not
been allowed to forget. He did not know how it had
happened, but word had spread through the city. The
Marianstatters were overjoyed. The gallant Colonel
Kestrel was none other than their own future prince

[236

consort. His private shame had become a matter of
public pride.

He had not turned for help to Las Bombas, his friend.
He had not turned to Florian, whom he admired. He
had not turned to Mickle, whom he loved; least of all
to her. He had, first, gone into the city to make certain
purchases. What he could not buy in the shops, he
gathered from the pavements and gutters. Hatless,
cloakless, sopping wet, he found his way to Keller's of-
fices. He could think of no better place to hide.

He asked Keller for two things: secrecy and a spare
room. The journalist, whose health had been noticeably
damaged, was delighted to grant him both.

"I went through the war without a scratch," said
Keller. "All I acquired in line of duty was a chest cold.
It seems to have become a permanent companion. I'm
much too ill to trust myself to a doctor's hands, and not
ill enough to consult an undertaker. Sparrow and
Madam Bertha do quite well for me. They'll see to any-
thing you need."            ^

"I don't need anything," said Theo, which was not
true. He had survived the war; he was not sure he could
survive the peace. He hoped, as a last resort, he could
unburden his heart by unburdening his memory.

He stayed, for the next few days, in Keller's garret.
The journalist had given strict orders that his guest was
not to be disturbed. The orders were partially obeyed,
which was more than Keller had come to expect since
his own return. He had forbidden his water rats to fuss
over himself: an instruction they entirely disregarded-
With Theo, they behaved a little better.

Sparrow and Weasel always found some excuse to

(2371

loiter around Theo's dosed door. Weasel accidentally
found himself in a position with his eye to the keyhole.
Sparrow smacked him in the ear for it- She had become
acutely conscious of proper manners. Spying at key-
holes she found discourteous and rude. Instead, she
peered through the crack under the door. She only
gained dust in her eye.

"Serves you right," said Weasel, rubbing his smart-
ing ear.

Madam Bertha intruded in her own fashion. She in-
sisted on leaving trays of food; then, insulted because
her cooking had gone untasted, grumbled at Keller.

The journalist was the only one who respected Theo's
privacy. Yet, after a time even Keller wondered, con-
cerned, about his houseguest. Excusing himself on the
grounds of journalistic license, which he felt permitted'
him to nose wherever it suited him, he went upstairs
one morning.

The door was open. Theo was sitting on a stool.
Sheets of paper covered the table and littered the floor
in front of him. Without specific invitation, Kefler
stepped inside. Theo glanced around at him. Keller saw
that his eyes were bloodshot, his face hollow, but with-
out the haunted air it had when he first came- He looked
as if an abscess in his mind had broken and drained.

"So that's what you've been up to." Keller bent over
the papers, astonished not only at the number of wash
drawings but, as much, at the subjects. There were
many portraits: some of Theo himself; more of Mickle,
FIorian, Justin, and others Keiler did not recognize.

"A man we used to call the Monkey," said Theo,
pointing at one- 'This—a boy who died in Justin's tent,

[238 \

I don't know his name. The others—they'd mean noth-
ing to anyone else. I remember them."

Keiler examined each one. In addition to the por-
traits, and in greater quantity, were sketches of scenes:

a torn body he could only guess was the poet. Stock;

an uprising in the streets of a town; a shape dangling
from a shattered window.

Keller, overcoming his first surprise, forgot that Theo
would one day be his sovereign and studied the work
with detached professional judgment-

"All in ail, quite good. No, 1 should say better than
that," observed the journalist. "Yes, excellent. Un-
trained, but excellent despite that. Perhaps, indeed, be-
cause of that- I find them unsettling, which is what they
should be. How often I'd want to look at them—well,
they're hardly decorative. They take getting used to."

"Yes," said Theo. "They would take getting used to."

"What will you do with them?"

"I don't know. Nothing."

"In that case," said Keller, "allow me to keep them."

"As you please."

"What strikes me," the journalist went on, "is some-
thing curious. You've done these with ink and water,
but your ink puzzles me. It gives quite a remarkable
effect. It would almost seem that you mixed grit, or
mud—"

"From the street," said Theo. "From sweepings, from
gutters. Perhaps I should have used blood, but too much
has been used."

"Permit me to offer you even higher compliments,"
said Keller. "You've managed to turn dust into art. So
many of us do the opposite."

[239]

15

He had, finally, gone back to the Juliana. Mickle did
not question his absence. Theo wondered if Keller, de-
spite his promise, had taken it on himself to tell her
where he was. He had no time to look into that. Mir^le
had called for a council, to be held not in the grand hall
of state but in one of the smaller chambers.

They had waited for him. Las Bombas was in his most
spectacular uniform. FIorian and Justin, in common
clothing, had kept their red armbands. Mickle had
dressed as the commanding officer of her Old Guard.
Beside her. General Witz had prepared stacks of paper
for his notes and calculations. Torrens was there with
Queen Caroline, although Theo did not leam until later
that Justin had angrily objected to their presence.

"General FIorian and I have already talked about a
constitution," Mickle announced when all had settled
themselves around the table. "Since he has a number
of provisions in mind, I've asked him to make a draft
and present it to us later. The question we haven't set-
tled is the place of the monarch in our new govern-
ment."

(2401

Justin began to speak. Mickle raised a hand and con-
tinued. "Or—if there's any place at all for one. As far
as I'm concerned, I'll tell you this: When it turned out
that I was Princess Augusta—Queen Augusta, sooner
or later—I hoped there'd be some relative or other who'd
like the throne better than I did. But I couldn't find
one. I don't want the throne now any more than I did
then. So, I'd like to start with the matter of my abdica-
tion."

"That is not possible," Queen Caroline broke in. "You
were born to be queen of Westmark. So you are, and
shall be."

"Madam, on the contrary," said FIorian. "She was
not born to be queen of Westmark, but to be a human,
like us all. The privileges of birth come quite by acci-
dent."

"You misunderstand me, sir," Caroline replied. "I
speak of royalty, not aristocracy. Dr. Torrens and I
have talked of this at length, these past months, and
I have come to agree with him.. There is no reason
why the child of an aristocrat shouid, by accident,
as you say, enjoy rights denied the child of a com-
moner.

"But royalty is not only a matter of birth but also of
special grace. The late king, my husband, was a good
man, a weak king perhaps, but a king nonetheless, with
his own portion of that grace. It is laid upon the mon-
arch—no, it is set within the monarch. It can be neither
escaped nor renounced. It cannot be abdicated."

"I can't say one way or the other about that," re-
turned Mickle. "All 1 wanted to tell you is that I've con-
sidered letting someone else head the government. If
you want the hard truth, I don't trust anyone here not

[241

to botch it up—with all the best intentions. Not even
FIorian. Certainly not you, Justin. So, as for giving up
the throne, I've decided: I won't:"

Justin reddened angrily. "You may not have the
choice. My people are still under arms. We can force
you to abdicate."

"Can you?" Mickle looked straight at him. "Do you
want to try?"

"Majesty," put in Witz, scribbling on his papers, "beg
to report; According to my calculations, it would be
most inadvisable for Colonel Justin to attempt it. Inad-
visable for General FIorian, as well."

"I don't intend to," said Florian. "Not at the mo-
ment. What may come about someday doesn't concern
me now. The existence of a monarch is less important -
than forming a government. Temporary it may be, but
we must have one."

"You shall form it without me," said Ton-ens, who
had been listening silently to this exchange. "I ask
Queen Augusta to dismiss me. If she will not, then I
hereby resign my office."

"You have served two monarchs," Caroline said softly
to Ton-ens. "You have served them well as councillor."
She laid her hand on his. "Will you now serve me as
my dear friend?"

Torrens bowed his head. "Yes, as 1 have always
wished to do."

"I would consent to a monarch," FIorian went on,
"but only if the monarch is limited, and bound by the
same constitution that binds all of us."

"Let her keep her throne, then. It's meaningless," said
Justin. 'The chief minister will hold the real power.
That must be one of us, FIorian. You or me."

[242

"Not necessarily." FIorian turned to Theo. "Do you
remember when we talked about old Jacobus? You were
a great believer in his idea of three consuls. I didn't
agree with you at the time, but I've come to think we
should try it. Three sharing power would be less dan-
gerous than power in a single pair of hands."

'That depends," Justin put in sharply. "Whom do you
propose?"

"Myself, for one," said FIorian. "You, for another."

"And whom else?"

"For a third, I name Theo."

Before Theo could reply, Justin sprang to his feet.
"No! I won't have him as one of us."

"He's the best choice," Fiorian said. "If you still bear
him any ili will, 1 advise you to put it aside."

"That has nothing to do with it," Justin flung back-
"If I agree to three consuls, I insist they must all be
commoners."

FIorian nodded. "Yes, they must be. And so he is."

"He's not!" cried Justin. '^He'll'be prince consort. That
makes him part and parcel of trie monarchy. His
interest will be theirs, not ours. My people won't stand
for it. Neither will yours."

"He's not prince consort yet," replied FIorian, "nor
will be until he and Augusta marry."

"Which occasion I am in process of arranging," said
Las Bombas. "For the ceremony, I have absolutely daz-
zling plans."

"I'm sure you do," said FIorian. "You'll have to put
them off."

"He will not," declared Theo. "Mickle and I have
waited long enough. We have a right to our own hap-
piness."

[243

"You also have a debt," said Florian. "1 remind you
of that day at Kopple's mill."

"I promised I'd support your cause. I've done it- I've
fought in the war—"

"That was your choice, not mine," Florian said. "As
1 see it, the debt remains. If you wish to repay it, you'll
serve with us. I'll count that as truly keeping your word.

"It's up to you. I can't force you," Florian continued.
"At the mill, 1 gave you a first lesson in statecraft. I
might have given you a second: Statesmen often find it
convenient to forget their promises."

"Hold on a minute," put in Mickle. "I have a say in
this, too. Theo's right. We've waited far too long- I want
Las Bombas to go ahead with his plans. I want to marry
without another moment's delay."

Then she added to Theo, "That's me speaking as me.
Speaking as queen, as Torrens taught me, i want you
to join Florian and Justin."

"But—why?" Theo burst out, dismayed- "I'd be no
help. They're already at odds. The war hasn't ended,
it's just be^in: in the council chamber."

"I'd rather have it there than on a battlefield." said
Mickle. "I'll count on you to settle their differences rea-
sonably. And, after alt, you did give Florian your
word."

Theo was silent for a long moment. He smiled rue-
fully at Mickle. "Yes. I'll keep it. I'll serve with them.
But I'm not a statesman."

"I know," said Mickle. "That's one of your better
qualities."

1244]