Chapter One
		Rumours.  Rumours spread through snow-covered 
Athex like a summer grass fire.  They reached Pothax Doxon and 
the black-haired cutthroat sped off through the city in search of his
 brother's estate.
	He was tall, swarthy and wore a black, close-fitting riding 
leathers.  He raced across the icy rooftops with a cat-like speed and
 agility that would have made a Kinian cougar jealous.  He was in the
 middle of a blizzard and yet he could see well enough to execute a 
somersault and land in a tree without a moment of unbalance.  This is
 why people had nicknamed him the Owl.
	The tree was in the park beside Wynic Doxon's estate.  The 
Doxon's was not your average family; Wynic was an assassin, the 
Paladin Assassin.  He was paid by the Kingdoms of Arthian, Kinian,
 Stornium and Colnic to kill anyone who would dare to try and 
overthrow the Kings and Queens of the Kingdoms.
	Scaling the wall, Pothax noted several horses being tended to
 in the stables.  "Company," he grunted to himself.  He dropped to the
 snowbank below, slid to the ground, and ran across the courtyard.
	Wynic's retainer Devid met him at the door and took his snow
 covered fur cloak.  "Master Wynic and Mistress Victoria are in the 
lounge with Sir Dillard and Lieutenant Rades," he said, shaking the 
snow off Pothax's cloak.  "Would you like anything to drink?" he 
coughed.
	"Thanks Dev.  I'll have some Kinian Brandy to warm me up.
  I suggest you have some too, that cough didn't sound good," grunted
 Pothax, yanking off his black leather riding boots.  "Where's Bren?"
	"Yes, sire," breathed Devid.  "I believe Master Bren is outside
 playing in the storm.  Shall I call him?"
	"Yes, this concerns him too," Pothax said, heading for the 
lounge at a run.  Throwing open the heavy Arthian Oak doors, he 
rushed into the midst of his friends.  "I suppose you've all heard?" he
 asked gruffly.
	Red-haired Wynic nodded.  He was almost exactly identical
 to his brother except that he was ten years younger and red-haired.
 "Victoria came home as soon as she heard from Major general 
Marqe.  What I want to know is whether the rumour is true."
	"There are several different rumours," noted Sir Dillard, a 
dark haired man with unusual purple eyes.  He had a broken nose
 and a U-shaped scar above his right eye.  "Mine is that the Ice Folk
 attacked and massacred a caravan and that King Sear's son, Prince
 Roger, was killed, though why the Prince would be in a caravan I 
don't know."  He was tall and somewhat lanky.  His face was shaved
 on one side and not on the other which suggested when he had heard
 the rumour.
	"That's the story I told him," added Rades.  He was barely 
over five feet tall and sturdily built.  He constantly was grinning 
mischievously though Pothax suspected it was an act since the man 
had last every friend he had ever had three months ago.
	"You have the part about Prince Roger being killed right," 
said Victoria, "but what actually happened is that the Prince was 
leading a group of Knights to Fort Phal when they came upon a 
massacred caravan, it was then that they were ambushed by Ice Folk."
  Victoria was three months pregnant though it didn't show since she 
was so beautiful.  She had lightly tanned smooth skin, a small nose, 
pouty lips, long brown hair and a nymph-like figure.  "And Wynic," 
she said, "it isn't a rumour so that makes it true."
	"I think we better go up to my study and look at a map of 
Kinian," muttered Wynic, standing up.  "If King Willium decides that
 he needs me to help King Sear.  Then we better be ready to go to 
Kinian.  Though I don't think I could be of any help anyway since there
 are so many Ice Folk tribes, plus they're nomadic."
	"Agreed," muttered Pothax.  He gulped down the contents of 
his goblet and ignored the burning sensation in his throat.  He turned to
 face Bren as the small boy trotted merrily into the lounge.  "We may
 be going to Kinian."
	The boy grinned and pointed at Pothax's goblet.  "Does that 
mean that when in Kinian, do as the Kinians do?"  Rades laughed and
 patted the boy on the back.
	"You've raised a good boy, Pothax," he laughed in his southern
 Stornium accent.
	"No, you may not have any wine or brandy," said Pothax, 
ignoring Rades.  "I wish you wouldn't listen to Rades either.  He tends
 to open his foolish mouth at exactly the wrong moment."
	Rades winked at Bren.  "You haven't been listening to me, 
have you?"  Bren pretended not to hear at all.



		Captain Savin and King Willium sobered instantly. The
 two were an odd pair.  A retired pirate captain from Stornium with a
 shaved head and a taste for hard whiskey.  The King of Arthian was 
a plumpish man, shrewd and careful in his ways of politics with a love 
of Kinian Brandy.  The two were drinking buddies, and they both 
insisted they were getting too old for work though they were the first 
to jump at a fight.
	"You're kidding me, right?" Willium demanded of his new 
retainer, Elsades.  The goblet fell from between his numb fingers and 
landed on the Arthian Oak table with a solid thud.
	Elsades had a full head of brown curls and was very strong 
despite his scholarly appearance.  "Yes, da soldier said dat Prince 
Roger was killed by a band of Ice Folk.  Undoubtedly, King Sear 
will declare war on the Ice Folk tribes."
	"Which means I must call a meeting to discuss the movement
 of troops from here in Arthian to Kinian," muttered Willium.  "I hate 
meetings."  He glanced at Savin and grinned.  "I'm too old for them."



		Prince Nebonex looked up from the canvas to his 
teacher, Gith.  The retired retainer taught the huge minotaur how to
 paint while his other teacher, General Gisoni, who was in charge of
 the Minotaur Embassy here in Athex, tought him the minotaur ideas
 of war.  His other teacher, King Willium, taught him politics.  Gith 
was extremely pale.
	"What is it?" the huge minotaur prince demanded, setting 
down his paint brush.
	"We've just received word from Kinian-"
	"Ah, how is King Sear and his family?"
	"Prince Roger was killed in a skirmish with the Ice Folk.  It is
 unclear whether the King will declare war on the Folk," replied Gith 
slowly.  He had a somewhat stunned expression on his face.
	"Why are you so stunned?"
	"Kinian and the Ice Folk have been allies for centuries.  No 
one ever thought they could actually even consider war.  It seems the
 problems the Ice Folk have been having are getting severe."
	"Where's Willium?  I need-"
	"He's already called a meeting.  We'll be invited, infact, 
ordered to come.  Willium values my advise and he was very impressed
 with your performance during Kobalix's Quest," interrupted the old
 man.  He sat down, absently toying with a paint brush.
	Nebonex spat.  His uncle Kobalix had the cutthroat, Pothax 
Doxon, assassinate his father, the Emperor.  It had been before the 
two half-brothers, Wynic and Pothax, had even met.  He didn't hold
 a grudge against Pothax, he did however wish Wynic had prolonged 
Kobalix's death three months ago.  Kobalix had also tried to 
assassinate Empress Gweneleque, himself and others in his demented 
plan to conquer the entire world, enslave humans and even become 
the Emperor of the Crime world.



		Word travels faster in the world of crime, a world that
 a man called Waytorn had the pleasure of being Emperor of.  In 
addition to having what was possibly the best spy network on the 
continent, he also had the largest army.  An army made up of cutthroats,
 murderers, mercenaries, highwaymen, thieves and pick-pockets.  He
 was perhaps the most powerful man in the continent next to Lord 
Blackaxe, the owner of the Swathick Axe.  Currently his spy network 
was in demand by both nobles and commoners.
	"Blackaxe, Redhawk?" asked the King Culprit, knocking on
 the door to Blackaxe's warroom.  "Queen Helen?"  Cautiously, he 
opened the heavy Arthian Oak doors and peered inside.
	The Queen of Stornium stood with her husband, Lord 
Redhawk and her friend Lord Blackaxe.  There was an additional 
noble present that Waytorn didn't recognize.  The Queen waved him
 forward and he crept forward slowly.
	The noble stared at Waytorn with undisguised disgust. 
Waytorn's right side of his face was horribly burned and scarred, the 
other side was handsomely shaped, tanned with strong cheekbones
 and a flashy brown eye.  His hair was pitch black and silky smooth.
 Waytorn was prepared to greet the noble's response to his looks, 
most people felt like retching when they saw his face.
	"Lord Ponde, meet King Waytorn," introduced Lord Redhawk.
 The knight had long, shoulder length hair, and long mustaches. He was 
tall, large shouldered and a bit lanky.  He was a good example of a 
Kinian Knight in Waytorn's mind, himself from Kinian.
	On the other hand Lord Blackaxe was a good example of a
 Stornium Knight.  Stockily built, bulging muscles, and extremely agile.
 The large difference was his smoke coloured hair and stern face.
	Lord Ponde was shorter than Blackaxe, and smaller also, but 
he had the traditional trademarks of a Stornium Knight: blond hair and 
a jovial face.  He reminded Waytorn of lieutenant Rades, a man he had
 met in Athex during Kobalix's Quest.
	"Sorry if I'm a bit blunt and informal Queen Helen," said 
Waytorn, turning to face the person considered to be the most beautiful 
woman in the world.  "But King Sear has probably declared war on the
 Ice Folk."
	Helen gasped.  She was normally very pale, but now she turned
 a deathly white.  She shoved blond hair out of her eyes and took a deep
 breath.  "So soon?  We've barely just finished the war with Kobalix!"
	Redhawk nodded in agreement.  "I think that's why too.  The 
Ice Folk are complaining about poachers from Kinian hunting their 
lands for furs.  The poachers are probably people who had fought for 
Kobalix before Wynic assassinated him."
	"I suppose I have to call a meeting now?" sighed Helen.  "Damn
 it!  I hate meetings almost as much as Willium does!"



		Prince Harold Searle blinked.  He looked from Queen
 Elexenia to Lord Jacog, her champion and Prince Consort.  Is this 
some kind of rude joke?" he demanded of his hosts.
	Queen Elexenia was known to be a child of sorts.  Raised in
 royal atmosphere she had become spoiled to the point that even now
 that she was over twenty winter's old, she still acted like a child of 
seven or eight.  her spoiled nature resulted in a face that was constantly
 pouting.  Normally if this was a joke she wouldn't have been able to 
suppress her laughter.  Today she was unusually silent and solemn.
	Slowly, the cold blade of fear crept up Harold's back like a 
razor sharp dagger.  Shuddering, he looked desperately at Jacog for
 a sign that this was all a joke.  Jacog said nothing and bowed his head,
 confirming what Harold's fears told him.
	His younger brother Roger was dead.  Killed in a skirmish with
 the Ice Folk.  Slowly, Harold took a deep breath.  "I must return 
immediately.  I-"
	"You will be escorted by an army of Colnic Knights and the
 Royal Colnic Army," spat Jacog.  "I've already given the orders.  
We'll leave tomorrow morning."



		Lord Gisoni, the first Minotaur Knight, sat down at a
 crescent shaped table in King Willium's dining hall.  He looked around
 the almost empty room and glanced briefly at the familiar mural on the
 wall.  The retired retainer, Gith, had painted it.  It went all the way 
around the circular room and depicted a herd of beautiful unicorns.  He
 felt like he had just sat down in the middle of the meadow depicted on
 the wall.
	He looked at the empty seat beside him and the huge minotaur 
wondered how many times Lord Redhawk had occupied that seat 
during Kobalix's Quest.  Best friends the two had become.  Now he
 rarely even received a letter from the knight.  He longed to hear his 
friend's strange Kinian accent.
	Sir Dillard snorted as he entered the room and looked around.
  "What's the point of this meeting?  We all know we have to go to 
Kinian!"  He sat down across from Gisoni.
	Rades smiled.  He sat down with a shrug beside the knight 
and stared at Lord Redhawk's seat.  "Is it just me or shouldn't Redhawk
 be present for this meeting?"
	Gisoni frowned and scratched an ivory coloured horn.  "I was
 just thinking the same thing.  It doesn't feel right without him or his wine
 bottle."
	"Sounds like you're talking about Redhawk," commented 
Pothax, entering beside Wynic and Victoria.  "He's the only one I know
 who has a wine bottle permanently attached to his left hand and a 
goblet attached to his right!"
	"Shush Pothax," said Victoria, sitting down beside her husband,
 Wynic. She yanked the cutthroat into his seat and poked him in the 
ribs.  "Willium's about to begin."
	"That's correct," muttered Willium, standing up.  He drew his
 rapier and placed it on the table, the hilt pointed away from him.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, we all know why we're here.  The questions
 that I'd like to discuss is how serious is this matter in Kinian?  Also,
 is it necessary to send the Arthian Army or should we send a 
delegation of politicians to help settle the matter?  Marshall Pegs, I
 believe you mentioned earlier wanting to say something?"
	The short fat man nodded and stood up.  "Reports from 
Kinian confirm that cutthroats formerly in the employ of Kobalix," he
 ignored Nebonex's spat and Rades' boo, and continued, "have taken
 up poaching in the Ice lands.  Attempts have been made to eradicate
 the villains but the Royal Kinian Army couldn't find a single poacher.
  It's been suggested that they have built an ice fortress like Fort Phal
 and that is the reason why they can't find them.  That theory has yet
 to be proven.
	"Negotiating is pointless.  Their strategies of war are very 
defensive.  Ice pits with sharpened icicles on the bottom, artificial 
avalanches, hidden trenches filled with warriors.  To make matters 
worse, they have been trading furs for crossbows and with crossbows
 they now have the ability to wait in the hidden trenches until we 
stumble into a trap and are caught in the crossfire.
	"Altogether, this means that war would be a waste of lives, 
since they have an ultimate defensive position.  Sending politicians 
would be pointless since they couldn't even get near the enemy.  My
 suggestion is that since the poachers are causing the lack of food 
and forcing the Ice Folk to attack caravans that we go to the root of
 the problem and find the poachers."
	"Good speech," shouted Nebonex.  He clapped his hands
 together, making the room echo with the sound.
	"Ya!" agreed Rades.  "A little too long, but to the point and
 none of that political mumble-jumble!"  Pothax laughed and the 
applause increased until it sounded like a herd of stampeding buffalo.
 Or like a charging minotaur legion, thought Gisoni, clapping the 
Marshall on the back.
	"Quiet!" shouted Willium.  He banged the hilt of his rapier 
against the table until the sound lessened to a dull roar.
	"Yes," added Gith.  "I worked very hard on that mural and I 
don't want the plaster to come loose from the ceiling and ruin it."
	"The ceiling isn't made of-"
	"Shush," shouted Victoria.  "I agree that it was a good speech,
 but I don't see how we can carry out Pegs' suggestion."  She placed
 her hands akimbo and waited for a response.
	"That will have to wait," said Gisoni.  "Right now it is very 
important that we leave for Kinian.  We can figure out what we're 
doing when we get there."
	"Precisely my feelings," said Gith.  "We should move to Kinian 
with all haste."
	Pothax stared at the old man.  "What do you plan to do there?"
 he asked.  
	"Advise Willium not to get himself killed.  When I'm not busy 
doing that, I'll be painting.  If you remember that painting Nebonex 
and I did, you'll know that I've been dying for another glimpse of the
 northern lights."
	"I think we better go start packing canvas, paint and brushes,"
 muttered the Minotaur Prince.  "Plus, I'll have to request for help 
from mother back home in Evicoth."



		Commodore Carlo stepped into the ante-chamber 
outside Lord Blackaxe's warroom.  He looked around and saw he 
was not alone.  Two men and a woman were also present.
	A large man with a great red beard looked up at the 
commodore.  He studied Carlo's dark blond hair, large Stornium nose
 and dark eyes.  He had a wild, untamed look about him, the look of 
a veteran killer.  "Carlo?" asked the huge man.
	Carlo ran a calloused hand through his hair and recognized 
the man before him.  "Eluth?" he said slowly, unsure.  He turned to 
face the other man.
	The short blond man smiled.  He had a crooked nose which 
looked broken.  He was missing the index finger on his left hand.  
"Commodore Carlo?"
	Carlo nodded at the two of them.  "Roreed, what are you 
and Eluth doing here?"
	"Blackaxe's orders," replied Eluth before Roreed could say 
anything.  "How about you?"
	"Lord Redhawk's orders.  What is this?  Some kind of reunion
 or something?  The people who took part in Kobalix's picnic or 
something like that," he said, using the term commonly used when 
referring to the thirty-two companions who went to the Kobalix's 
citadel to the north of Athex and quite literally blew the place sky high
 when the citadel's storage building filled with charcoal, saltpeter and
 sulphur caught on fire.  Carlo, Eluth and Roreed had been three of
 the thirty-two.  The fire from the exploding citadel was nicknamed 
the Barbecue.
	The woman stirred restlessly in her seat.  She had long blond
 hair tied back in a pony tail.  Her skin was tanned and scarred from
 fights.  She was dressed in buckskin riding leathers, steel toed leather
 boots and wore a simple steel saber strapped to her belt.  "That's all 
fine and dandy, but what am I doing here?" she asked.  "King Waytorn
 sent me here from Glist."
	"Are you a cutthroat?" asked Eluth, a bit unsure.
	"No, and neither am I a soldier or an assassin.  I've been 
trained as a killer."
	"Mercenary?" guessed Carlo.
	She shook her head.  "Mercenaries are soldiers for hire and
 I'm not a soldier."
	"Well, give us some clues or something!" demanded Roreed.
	"Killer.  Just that.  King Waytorn hired the best teachers from
 Evicoth, Avolic, Jaton and Orociudad to come and train me in martial 
combat," she replied.
	"Orociu-what?" asked Eluth.
	"It's a city on an island west of Colnic.  They speak a language
 much like old Kinian there."
	"Martial combat.  Or in other words swordsmanship, 
horsemanship, archery-" began Roreed.
	"No.  Just combat.  Almost like boxing or wrestling only 
deadlier.  I can kill a man with a single punch."
	"Really?" asked Eluth.  "How?"
	"Punch him in the neck hard enough to break it.  A kick is
 more effective, but harder to do so I wear steel gauntlets," she 
explained, holding up her gauntleted hands for all to see.
	"Gentlemen, Brenda, you may enter now," said Redhawk, 
opening one of the heavy Arthian Oak doors.  He smiled.  "You're 
probably all wondering why we called you all here?"
	"Indeed," muttered Brenda.
	"Well, if you just sit down, we'll explain," said Redhawk, 
motioning them towards padded velvet chairs.  He sat down beside
 a small serving table and poured himself a glass of white Kinian wine.
  He sipped at the sweet liquid.
	Blackaxe nodded and stood up.  "The four of us, Queen 
Helen, King Waytorn, Lord Redhawk and myself have decided to
 train an elite force of warriors.  The force had to be trustworthy and
 it was Redhawk who remembered Wynic Doxon say that he could 
trust you three men with the world without a second thought.  Waytorn
 claims he can equally trust Mistress Brenda.  So it is that you four
 were picked to be the first four of the elite force.  To give you special
 status we've given you all the title of Stornium Knights until we find
 a suitable-"
	"But how can anyone expect to think I'm a knight?" demanded
 Brenda.  "Not that I don't want to, it's just-"
	"I thought that a problem, at first," said Blackaxe, "but then 
Lord Redhawk explained that in Kinian they have female knights, 
called Dames instead of Sirs.  He explained how this was the reason 
why the number of knights in Kinian was larger than the number of 
soldiers in the Kinian Army.  So now the question is, do you four agree
 to this arrangement?"
	Without waiting, Brenda slowly drew her saber.  She knelt
 before Queen Helen and offered her sword in homage.  Helen just
 stared at her.
	"I'll take that as a yes," Redhawk muttered.
	Taking the proffered saber, Helen delicately tapped Brenda's
 temples with the sides of the blade.  She reversed the blade and 
offered it to Brenda.  "Rise Dame Brenda, Knight of the Stornium 
Throne."



		Carlo felt like he'd been drafted.  He felt lost, confused
 and totally unsure of what he was doing or where he was going.  A 
sailor by heart he knew very little about the northlands, and yet here
 he was on a horse, not a ship, going to northern Kinian and perhaps 
even the Ice Lands.  "Does anyone know exactly where we're going?"
 he asked abruptly.
	"Nope," said Eluth, holding the map upside down.
	Brenda snickered, but didn't say anything.  She looked away 
and spurred her stallion expertly to a steady gallop.  Carlo stared after
 her enviously and tried to spur his horse to a gallop.  He only managed
 to rip a hole into his saddlebag.
	Eluth looked around for landmarks, but saw nothing but trees, 
hills and more trees.  "Uh, which way's north?"
	"You could start by turning the map right side-up," Carlo 
suggested, trying to untangle his spurs from his saddlebags.  He managed
 a second larger hole in the pack.
	"Danke," muttered Eluth, turning the map so that Bone Sea 
was closest to him instead of farthest.
	"You're welcome," grunted Carlo, taking his foot out of his 
stirrup.  The gelding gave a sudden lurch and he fell out of the saddle.
  His left foot caught in the stirrup and he was nearly trampled beneath 
the horse's hind hooves.  Cursing and spitting, he yanked himself back
 into the saddle, ignoring Eluth's stares.
	"You look like someone who's never or rarely been on a horse
 before," the red bearded man chuckled.
	Carlo grunted.  "I could probably say the same about you and
 a ship, but I won't since I don't have a ship anymore to prove it!"  He
 tied the reins in a reef knot around the saddlehorn and plucked a loose
 thread from his tunic and quickly fixed the holes in his saddlebags.
	Eluth watched and chuckled softly.  He eyed the knot critically. 
"Won't that come loose if the horse gives a sudden lurch or goes over 
a bump?"
	"It's a reef knot, the saddle would come loose before it did," 
Carlo muttered.  He slapped the horse's flanks with his hand and 
managed a gallop.  He grabbed the map from Eluth as he passed the 
novice knight and began to organize the terrain in his memory.  "This 
map is dated before Kobalix's Quest!  Dumbkopf!  We'll get 
completely lost since almost all the landmarks were changed when the
 minotaur army marched through Arthian!"
	"Well, of course it's dated!  Kobalix's Quest was only three 
months ago!  It feels almost like yesterday when I think about it!"



		"Doesn't it feel like yesterday when you first bumped 
into me?" asked Victoria.  She sipped at some red Kinian wine, 
savouring the burning sensation on her tongue.  She and her husband, 
Wynic, were sitting in the drunken Dragon Tavern at their regular 
booth, where they had first met.
	"Yes, it does," muttered Wynic with a grin, rubbing his right eye.
 He remembered the short brawl, Victoria's fist coming at him and 
seeing his reflection plus a black eye in a silver goblet.  A pain shot 
through his chest and he knew it wasn't heartburn.  His hand moved to
 his fractured ribs.
	"Are you sure you're well enough to travel?  What with your 
ribs and all?"  A vivid memory of seeing Wynic fall from Kobalix's 
citadel's hundred foot walls and hearing double splashes as the assassin
 and minotaur crashed into the Vormian Lake below flashed across the
 archeress' mind.
	"I'm sure."  Wynic watched the proprietor, a short, fat man 
called Billip with three chins giving his new recruit a lesson in courtesy.
  Nebonex was regretting bringing up table manners in the conversation, 
but he pretended to be paying attention to the lecture.  Gith chuckled in
 the seat across from the prince.
	Soon the conversation drifted in the direction of bowing and 
Nebonex was persuaded to show the young writer the proper way to
 genuflect.  The poor waiter ended up sprawled on the floor on his first
 regretting hiring the clumsy waiter.
	Finally when the floor show was over Billip waddled over to 
Victoria and Wynic's booth.  He tallied up the breaking-the-fast meal 
and handed Victoria the bill.  "I added Pothax's tab to the bill.  He
 usually forgets to pay," he explained.  "Though I truly doubt he suffers 
that often from amnesia!  He even tried using sleep walking as an 
excuse one night!"
	Wynic and Victoria dumped their money pouches out on the 
table and counted out six platinum, four gold, nine silver and seventeen
 copper coins for Pothax's tab and two coppers for their own meal.
 "Tell that new waiter to keep practicing on his bow," said Victoria.
 She handed Billip the pile of coins.
	Billip smiled and took the coins.  "I doubt I want to lose all 
my crockery and glassware!"  He laughed and walked away to serve 
his other customers.
	Later Nebonex and Gith walked over to join Victoria and
 Wynic.  "I think we should leave now," suggested Nebonex.  He 
pointed out the window.  "Pothax is getting impatient."
	Wynic turned in his seat to look out the window.  His brother 
was teaching Bren swordsmanship.  Obviously, Wynic's elder brother
 had got bored watching the horses.
	Bren was doing surprisingly well, though he'd probably given
 earlier lessons and Pothax was using his right hand.  The cutthroat's
 swordhand was his left hand though he was almost as good with his 
right.  Bren probably didn't notice that his scabbard was on his right
 hip, but then again, he was probably too busy to notice.
	A crowd was starting to gather to watch the lesson.  Most 
people thought they were watching Wynic Doxon and not his brother.
  Seeing the attention he was drawing, Pothax started doing some 
stunts.  The crowd started to cheer.
	"I agree," muttered Wynic.  "It might go to Pothax's head if 
they started throwing money."

Chapter Two
		Larry sat waiting.  His friends were late.  The Arthian 
Army and a large number of knights had already left Athex.  He stared
 at the huge granite gates and shivered in the cold wind.  They wouldn't 
be expecting him to come with them to Kinian, but then again, he didn't
 know the way and didn't want to get lost in the Kinian mountains.
	Five figure on horses plus one tall, horned figure emerged from
 between the granite gates.  The glare off the snow prevented Larry 
from recognizing them.  He raised a hand to protect his eyes from the
 glare.
	Two tall men, a woman, an old man, a boy and a minotaur.  
One of the tall men looked like Wynic Doxon and the woman looked 
like Victoria, but Larry didn't have a clue who the other three were. 
The other tall man looked in Larry's direction and pointed.
	"I've been spotted," Larry grunted.  He got to his feet and 
mounted his mare.  The horse snorted in the chill wind and pawed at
 the snow.  "Shut up and quit complaining," snapped the cutthroat.
	The figures drew closer and Wynic waved.  Victoria rolled 
her eyes and reluctantly waved.  "What are you doing here?" she 
demanded.
	"Waytorn says I'm to go to Kinian and I don't know the way,"
 Larry explained.  "I was hoping I could travel with you."  He gave 
Victoria an innocent, pleading look.
	"No," said Victoria quickly.
	"Yes," said Wynic, poking Victoria in the ribs.  "We'd 
enjoy your company."



		Wynic quickly regretted saying that.  Larry's constant 
chatter, though it did take some of the dullness away from the snow
 covered plains, it was giving him an earache.  He rode ahead to ride
 beside Gith so he wouldn't have to put up with the noise.
	Gith smiled.  "Regretting something?"
	"Do you think we could lose him in that bush ahead?" Wynic 
asked seriously.
	Nebonex laughed.  Minotaurs had very swift, strong and 
endurance bound muscles.  They could run for leagues and leagues 
without breaking a stride or resting for even a second.  The fact that 
he was plowing through two feet deep snow didn't do much to slow 
the huge Prince down even a bit.
	"Nope, but we might be able to leave camp early tomorrow
 morning without him.  The wind and snow would cover our trail," 
suggested Gith.
	"With our luck he'd probably insist on taking the last watch," 
muttered Wynic.
	"And he's probably a light sleeper too," snorted Nebonex.  
"Let's just hope the cold somehow freezes his lips shut."



		"Tell me again, Dillard," shouted Rades.  "Why did 
we take this God-forsaken road?"  He could barely see the knight five
 feet in front of him, leading his gelding through the deep snow.
	"What?"  Dillard yelled, trying to be heard over the wind.  He 
looked back at the lieutenant.
	"What?" shouted Rades.  "I can't hear you!"
	"Shout louder!  I can't hear you over the wind!"
	"Why did we-" Rades shouted, but a sudden gust of snow got 
him in the face.  He wiped the snow away with his free hand.  "Never
 mind!"
	"Huh?"
	"Never mind!"
	"You'll have to tell me later.  I can't hear you!"



		The sun caused the snow to glare so brightly it was 
almost impossible to see.  Roreed shielded his eyes with his free hand
 and turned in his saddle to face Carlo.  Or who he thought was Carlo.
  "Are we lost yet?"
	"I wouldn't doubt it.  We can't tell which way's north because 
of the glare.  It would be better if we stopped and made camp.  We 
can wait until twilight when there's less glare."
	"You four look lost!" boomed a loud voice.  The companions 
looked around in all directions but couldn't spot who had spoken. 
 Then an orange, blue and purple figure appeared on the snowy horizon. 
 It was hard to see him because of the glare and because he was a 
quarter mile away.  The companions watched as the strangely dressed
 figure came closer.
	"I'm General Chek of the Royal Stornium Army.  Who might 
you four be?" shouted the figure in a voice that echoed across the field.
	"I'm Sir Carlo, formerly of the Royal Stornium Navy and this 
is Sir Roreed and Sir Eluth, formerly of the Black Stornium Army and 
Dame Brenda.  Why are you without your army?  Are you as lost as 
we are?"
	"Nein.  I've been sent to find you by Lord Redhawk and my 
army is being led by General Sardias," boomed Chek.  "Redhawk sent
 me to teach the four of you swordsmanship, horsemanship and a fair 
bit of discipline."  He paused and smiled sardonically.  "Now get off 
them horses and march.  The poor girls are going to break a leg in this
 heavy snow!"



		Rades slipped on the ice and cursed.  "Dumbkopf!" he
 swore in old Stornium.  Climbing to his feet, he looked at the citadel 
standing in the distance.  It was one of the few fortresses left standing 
from Kobalix's Quest.  "What castle is that?" he shouted, pointing at 
the citadel.
	"Castle Delias.  I just hope Lady Bardelias isn't home.  She-"
	"She'll never let us take shelter there," finished Rades.  He had 
won many arguments against the Lady and thoroughly embarrassed her.
  This was because she couldn't find anything in Rades to exploit.  She
 exploited Wynic and Pothax's bastardry, Victoria's poor writing, 
Redhawk's drinking, Dillard's scar and past failures, which were many 
and great.  Fortunately, Wynic was tolerant, Victoria was learning from 
Princess Darylinn, Redhawk was no longer in Arthian and Dillard had 
learned to ignore people.
	Pothax was another matter.  He lost his temper every time he 
was near the Lady.  Rades usually came to the rescue by delivering a 
quick insult.  Pothax would laugh and his temper would subside and 
dissolve.
	Rades was thinking about this so much that he barely noticed 
passing through the citadel's gate.  It wasn't until they reached the 
citadel's only inn that he looked up and saw where they were.  He 
sighed wearily and led his horse to the stables.



		Lady Bardelias was widely known for her gossiping as
 well as her dalliances with young men.  Castle Delias was worse.  No
 sooner had Rades wrote his name in the check-in book than a young 
man was heading off in search of lady Bardelias with fresh gossip.
	"You wouldn't lie would you?" demanded Bardelias.  She was 
a tall, pale woman with a voluptuous figure and a vindictive smile.  
Rades had always thought her to be vile and corrupt.  He was probably
 right.
	The young man shook his head.  "I wouldn't dare.  I'm the 
stable caretaker at the inn and I saw his uniform.  I recognized it as
 Stornium because of the yellow and purple.  Arthian soldiers wear
 blue and orange."
	Was he traveling with a knight with a horse-shoe shaped scar 
or any-"
	"Yes!  Sir Dillard, I believe that was his name."
	"Take me to this inn."



		"I told you before," snapped Dillard.  "We don't need 
a god damned whore!  We need blankets and a large fire and some 
sleep.  We're too tired for that!"
	The prostitute was a bit disappointed.  "This room doesn't
 have a fireplace, none of them do.  Only the tap room, the stables
 and the smithy out back has-"
	"Then we'll sleep in the smithy instead of this brothel!" spat
 Rades.  "At least then we'll be warm!  This place is a dump!"
	Dillard snorted.  "The stables were cleaner!"  He went down
 the hall to the tap room.
	"Come on.  I'll pay more than what they're paying," insisted
 a fat merchant.  The innkeeper shook his head.  "It's bad for
 business," he replied.
	Dillard tapped the merchant on the shoulder.  "Three silver 
and you can have our room."  He winked at Rades and the Stornium
 bit his tongue to keep from laughing.
	Deal."



		"I'm looking for the knight and soldier that checked 
in here," explained Bardelias.  The young man peered over her shoulder
 at the cook who had the check-in book.  "What room?"
	The cook glanced at the book.  "Room eight," he replied.
	Bardelias nodded and walked across the room and down the 
hallway.  She eased the door open and peeked inside.  Muffled sounds
 and groans came from the direction of the bed.  She quickly closed 
the door and stood there shocked.
	She'd never thought about that.  Could Dillard and Rades 
really be men-lovers?  Called heretics and blasphemers by the clergy.
  What great gossip this would make!



		"General Chek," said Brenda.  "We've been kind of
 left in the dark about this elite training business.  Could you tell us 
more about it?"
	Chek nodded.  "You four will be taught by the best of the best, 
Wynic Doxon, Lord Jacog, General Gisoni, myself, General Sardias, 
Victoria Doxon.  She's quite an archer, you know-"
	"We know that," spat Carlo.  "We were at the Picnic, 
remember?"  His horsemanship had improved slightly though he still 
fell off often when trying to dismount.
	Chek ignored him and continued.  "-Dame Brenda will teach 
you when nobody else is around, Dame Larel, she's perhaps the 
greatest crossbowist to ever live, Lord Ponde...  Ah, I can't remember 
anymore, but I got most of the important ones like Wynic, Jacog, and 
Sardias.  My part in this is to impose discipline."
	"Your voice has a very unusual talent for loudness," commented
 Roreed.  "Have you ever tested it?  To see how far away we can still
 hear you that is?"
	"No."  The sound didn't come from Chek's lips. Infact, they 
didn't move at all!  "But I do know the reason behind it."
	Eluth stared.  "You can throw your voice!"  Chek nodded.  
"And ventriloquism. Unlike others who practice in order to learn it, I 
was born doing it.  It wasn't until I heard voice throwing that I realized
 I could do it.  Since then,  I've developed my gift into what it is now. 
 It really intimidates people!"
	"Do you think you could teach us?" asked Eluth.
	"Perhaps."



		Time goes sluggishly on the plains so it came as quite
 a surprise when Rades and Dillard finally arrived in the Kinian 
mountains.  They had left Athex only ten days ago.  It felt like a 
decade to a now bearded and tired Rades.  The change from plains 
to mountains was swift and sudden.  It felt strange to finally have 
obstacles and scenery rather than blowing snow in all directions.  Now
 trees were plentiful, whereas the plains had only dotted forests, large
 in numbers but small in size, especially the farther you got away from
 Lake Vormia.
	Wildlife also increased dramatically.  The buffalo and aurochs
 had went to the southern plains leaving almost no wildlife on the 
northern plains.  Now Rades saw flocks of winter birds, chickadees,
 sparrows, an occasional falcon or two.  There were hare tracks all 
over the place, one would have thought there was an army of them 
lurking in the half covered bushes.  Rades even saw a stag at one 
point though it quickly sprinted away when Dillard's horse snorted 
and pawed the ground.
	The sheer mountains, vast glaciers and forests created a cold,
 harsh place Rades couldn't have dreamt of.  It felt better to be out of 
the blowing snow of the plains though.  He reined in his horse suddenly
 and looked down.  A great and sudden chasm lay bare feet away from
 him.  The huge rift was so deep Rades couldn't see the bottom.  It was
 about fifteen feet across to the other side.  He was surprised he hadn't 
noticed it sooner.
	Dillard reined in beside him and looked at the other side wistfully.
 He glanced in both directions for the ends of the rift.  "I can't tell where
 the ends are so which way should we go around?"
	"Why would there be a rift here anyway?"
	Dillard shrugged.  "Glaciers," he muttered.
	"This rift could go for miles in both directions.  There has to be 
a quicker way to cross!" Rades looked around helplessly, hoping for 
anything that would improve their situation.
	"Well, let's not waste our time looking.  We'll find a place where
 the rift isn't as wide or we can go around," Dillard concluded.  He
 sawed at his reins and turned west.
	Rades followed reluctantly.



		"Death canyon," spat Nebonex.  "We're lucky it doesn't
 run east and west or else we'd never get across it.  Unless someone 
decides to build a four hundred yard bridge."  The companions moved
 on, keeping their distance from the edge of the cliff.  It seemed to 
beckon them.  To taunt them into risking a peek over it's steep edge.
	"Why don't you spit over the edge?" Victoria asked Larry 
hopefully.  The cutthroat was extremely pale and quiet.  He refused to 
say anything and rode ahead to relieve Pothax from scout duty.  The 
archeress smiled.



		Someone had built a bridge from a huge hollowwood
 tree.  It had been cut down both sides.  The excess half had been cut
 up into braces to hold the ends in place on both sides of the rift.  
Rades urged his gelding across the crescent moon shaped bridge.  He
 refused to look down until he reached the north side of the rift.  "Come
 on, Dillard!" he shouted urgently, waving his arm.  The knight nodded 
and started to cross.
	There was a sharp twang and Rades' gelding jolted forward at
 breakneck speed.  The lieutenant hung on for dear life as they raced 
across the icy ground.  He glanced back at Dillard, but he couldn't see
 the knight because of trees in the way.
	He sawed at the reins and managed to get the horse to slow 
down a bit but only for a moment.  Taking a firm hold on the saddle 
horn, he pulled himself back into the saddle properly.  His boot snagged
 on something in the horse's flank.  He reached down and jerked it loose.
	A dart.  Rades stared at the dart for a short second before fully 
comprehending it's meaning.  A poisoned dart...  Rades jerked on the
 reins and tried to turn back towards the bridge, but the horse kept
 going in the same direction.  He couldn't jump off, they were going 
too damn fast.



		Dillard heard a sharp twang and immediately ducked.
  He heard Rades' gelding whinny and its hooves clattering against ice 
as it fled.  he could only assume that the lieutenant was all right.
	He dropped to the bridge and drew his longsword.  A second
 louder twang sounded and he dropped to his stomach and rolled as a 
crossbow bolt went whizzing by and thudded into the bridge wall two 
feet from the knight.
	A spear came flying towards Dillard, but he deflected it deftly 
with his sword.  He studied the spear with some surprise.  It was
 decorated with feathers and painted with ruins and he presumed it to
 be Ice Folk ruins.  He wondered if the Ice Folk actually had patrols 
this far south.
	If they were this far south there was no point in trying to fight 
them off.  He stood up in plain view and held his sword by the blade 
in the symbol of surrender.



		The huntress cursed.  Now that she could see the man
 she knew he wasn't the knight she was looking for.  No sense wasting 
a good crossbow bolt on the wrong knight.  As for the spear?  There 
was plenty more where that came from.  She mounted her horse, slung 
the blowdart pipe in her saddlebag along with the spear-thrower.  
Sparing the horse no mercy, she spurred it towards the west.
	She was looking for a Kinian knight, not an Arthian.  He was
 a Lord and she should have known that he'd have a larger retinue. 
 She was looking for Lord Redhawk.



"He to touch it,
He to wield it,
Shall rule the World.

It will not break,
Rust or dull,
Tarnish or bend,
Burn or melt.

It is made of Godsteel,
And of Godoak.

Long it is lost,
Long it will stay,
That way.

Until he who speaks
The Shadows,
Claims it

It is the Spear of Destiny,
And only he who speaks
The Shadows,
May lift it from
It's icy embrace."
	"It's icy embrace," repeated Lord Blackaxe with a glance at
 Lord Redhawk and Redhawk's squire Derick.  "Is that not a clue 
that the Spear of destiny is hidden in the Ice Lands?  A place of snow
 and ice all year round?"
	"I wouldn't know," replied Derick.  "I've never been taught 
lore.  I thought the Swathick Axe was a myth, but then Wynic Doxon
 found it and gave it to you.  Tell me, why do you seek the Spear of 
Destiny?"
	"If you think it is because I want to rule the World, you're dead
 wrong.  Ruling the world sounds like a pretty strenuous occupation.  
I want the spear for my collection.  It-"
	"I thought the Swathick Axe would have made your collection
 complete.  What's the point to finding it then?  Besides, have you any 
idea how big the Ice Lands are?" demanded Redhawk.
	"The point is that it will be preserved and kept safe.  No 
collection is ever complete until you have everything. Since mine is a 
weapons collection, I'd need every sword, every dagger, every... Well,
 you get the point!  I don't believe the finder will rule the world, but I 
wouldn't want that to happen since the character destined to find it is a 
shady one," replied Blackaxe.  He refused to answer the latter question
 since he knew the chances of finding the spear were the chances of
 finding a needle in a hay stack.  Damn near impossible.  He didn't like
 to think that since he didn't 'Speak The Shadows' that it was impossible
 for him to find it.
	"And what of 'he who speaks the shadows'?" asked Waytorn,
 who had been eavesdropping.  "Sounds a fair bit like me, only I almost 
rule the world already.  I agree with Blackaxe though; it sounds like too
 much work!"
	"Does it matter?" asked Redhawk.  "The Spear may not even 
exist!  It-"
	"Lord Redhawk?" interrupted a lieutenant.  "There's a minotaur 
from Athex to see you.  His name is Gisoni.  Shall I bring him to see 
you?"
	"Immediately," replied Redhawk.  "Treat his Lordship like you 
would a King," he said to the lieutenant and turned in his saddle to face
 Lord Blackaxe.  "I haven't seen Gisoni since the wedding.  It seems 
like years though it was only three months ago."



		Rades shivered.  He glanced at the cave entrance 
hopefully for Dillard.  Not a sound other than blowing wind and snow. 
 He had tried to backtrack to find the knight after his gelding had finally
 succumbed to the poison, but the wind had covered the tracks and he
 had been totally disoriented anyway.  Now he was totally lost.  He 
was almost warm, plus he was sheltered and well fed, but he had never
 been to Kinian before so he had absolutely no idea where he was.
	He prayed that Dillard was safe.  The knight was one of Rades 
few friends.  Those that were still alive, the rest killed in the siege of 
Deltex during Kobalix's Quest.



		The Lord of Hartfell Keep was very busy, but he 
managed to help Sir Dillard.  He had been very courteous and a bit
 shocked that there might be Ice Folk this far south.  He immediately
 placed Dillard in charge of a search party of thirty soldiers equipped 
with cat-sleds.
	The cat-sleds were an adaptation of the Ice Folks' dog-sleds
 only instead of huskies they trained cougars.  The huge tawny panthers
 were more adapted to the Kinian landscape plus they were admirable
 fighters.  Travel in the mountains on horseback was restricted to roads,
 passes and places of minimal snow, but with a cat-sled one could go 
anywhere they pleased.  The sport of capturing and training these great 
beasts was considered a national pastime (next to drinking Kinian 
Brandy).
	"You seem glum," remarked the lieutenant.  She smiled and 
tossed her brown hair over one shoulder.  "What's your friend like 
that you're so concerned?"
	Dillard looked up at her from his seat on the sled.  "He's-he's 
someone you'd be proud to call friend.  He and I have much in common.
  We-we both lost everyone we ever knew.  Mine were killed by the 
demented Lord Hitlot, his were killed in the siege of Deltex-"
	"-which lasted only half of a hour," said the lieutenant.  She 
bowed her head slightly.  Looking up, she forced a smile.  "Let's get 
going."



		Redhawk laughed and clapped Gisoni on the back. 
"I've got to meet this Larry fellow!  He sounds like he'd talk about the
 most insignificant thing when faced with the devil himself!"
	"I don't think you'd want to.  From what Victoria said, Larry 
tends to cause more trouble than he's worth and he never seems to 
shut up.  Wynic tries to ignore the cutthroat but he keeps following him
 around like some lost puppy it seems.  As for Pothax," Gisoni smiled
 and shook his head.  "Pothax hasn't met him, but I'll wager he'd enjoy
 every second he'd talk to Larry though it's mostly bragging about which
 of them can kill faster or something boastful like that!"
	"Perhaps, but I'd still like to meet him."



		Castle Redhawk was on an island in the middle of a
 river about ten leagues south of Jaton.  It was a huge structure, and 
was designed to intimidate; it worked too.  The Kinian flag flew from 
it's towers: four crossed blades, three green mountains on an azure 
coloured sky.
	"Nice place," remarked Larry.  He rapped impatiently on the 
gate.  He leaned against it and waited.  The gate opened a foot and 
Larry slipped on the ice and fell.  Victoria laughed and applauded.  He
 glared at her and stood up to face the guard who had opened the gate.
	The guard eyed them suspiciously.  "Who are you?" he 
demanded.
	"Wynic Doxon," replied Wynic.  "My companions are my 
brother Pothax, my wife Victoria, Prince Nebonex, Gith of Athex, 
Larry of Athex and Bren Doxon of Athex.  Call Captain Siars if you 
wish to confirm my identity."
	"Not necessary, I remember your hair from your last visit, 
though it was longer then.  I'll call Captain Siars to escort you to 
your chambers."
	Wynic nodded.  He remembered the tall, sturdy captain. 
He had been Redhawk's favorite drinking buddy and a good friend.
 What he remembered and what was were two different things.  Siars
 had lost his sword arm recently.  He appeared to be still recovering 
from the injury.  It was hard for Wynic not to weep at the sight of 
Siars.  The captain had taught him swordsmanship and was very 
skilled.  And still was since Wynic remembered that the captain could
 fight just as well, if not better with his left hand.
	The cap'n smiled and scratched a scar that ran along his cheek.
 "Welcome Wynic.  You've been away too long and your things are
 still in your chamber."
	Wynic clutched his forehead angrily.  "I'd nearly forgotten
  Redhawk and I left in quite a hurry that night.  I suppose everything's
 exactly where I left them?" he demanded.
	Siars nodded.  "To the best of my knowledge nobody's went 
in that room for over half a year.  I-"
	"You better give us a different room.  I had a scuffle with a 
rival assassin and left him in the sitting room.  I really don't want a half 
decomposed corpse in the room."
	Siars turned pale.  He noted Wynic's companions and cleared 
his throat.  "Perhaps a multiple suite would be better.  At least then 
nobody will get lost like you did."



		Empress Gweneleque crushed her son's letter in her
 large fist.  She snarled and looked out the window, trying to find
 some solace in the azure waters of the Ocean.  She found none.
	The nanny holding the Empress' other son, Robarthars,
 looked at Gwen in concern.  "Is his highness well?  Has something 
happened in Athex?"
	"Nebonex says that the Ice Folk and Kinian are on the brink 
of war.  We've received rumours from Gitsi and Lucasn about trade 
caravans being attacked by Ice Tribes.  I didn't believe them since 
we've been allied with the Ice Folk for at least a millennia."  She shook
 her head.  "Over a million people died during Kobalix's Quest.  I sure
 hope the same thing doesn't happen this time."



		Rades saw a shadow, but no source that the shadow
 could have come from.  Yet, when he looked closer he saw two dark
 eyes glittering in the firelight.  He gripped his sword, the cold steel 
reassuring him.
	Ever so softly the cougar stepped forward and the lieutenant 
saw that it was not covered with snow, but was indeed albino.  Snowy
 white fur dripping melting snowflakes onto the stone floor of the cave.
 The cougar sat down on it's haunches on the opposite side of the fire 
and rested it's head on it's forelegs.
	At first Rades was more than puzzled, having expected the 
beast to attack, but the cougar made no hostile move.  The lieutenant
 wagered the cougar had somehow become separated from its master
 or something like that.  Whatever the case Rades relaxed, forgot 
about the beast and fell asleep.
	When he woke the next morning the cougar was gone without 
a footprint.  Rades simply shrugged and assumed it all had been a 
strange dream.  Cold must be getting to him.

Chapter Three
		Carlo stared.  He had never, ever seen anything so 
massive.  He had seen the plateaus in western Stornium, but the Kinian
 Mountains dwarfed them easily.  The walls and gates of Athex and 
Kobalix's Citadel both were ants compared to these mountains of 
sheer rock, ice and glaciers.
	He fell off his horse and tumbled into the snow.  Cursing, he
 wiped snow from his beard and neck.  His hand snagged in his beard
 and he reminded himself to shave it off as soon as they reached Jaton.
  Or the nearest castle.
	Brenda reined in her stallion and bent forward in the saddle. 
 "Need some lessons?" she asked and held out her hand.
	"No, danke.  I'll manage," said Carlo, spitting out snow.  He
 took her hand and pulled himself to his feet and nearly slipped on the
ice.  He stared at the ice and spat.  "It's a shame we don't have ships 
that go on ice.  We'd be there in half the time!"
	Their newest instructor, a minotaur brigadier named Mathex, 
looked up.  A thoughtful expression came over his face and he smiled
 slowly.  "Do you remember what I'm supposed to teach you?" he
 asked.
	"Ingenuity," said Eluth.  "How that's supposed to help us God
 only knows!"  He shook his head.
	"Repeat your wish Sir Carlo," ordered Mathex.
	"It's a shame we don't have ships that-" Carlo broke off and 
stared at Mathex.  "Well what the hell!"
	The young minotaur pulled a crumpled, but fairly new map 
from his pack and unfolded it.  He pointed to a castle near a river to 
the northeast.  "If we go there, I could easily fashion such a vessel
 from the local ships."
	Roreed nodded.  They all knew the minotaur before them.
 The one who had designed the Great-crossbow, the Goban sword
 and quite possibly about to build the first Iceship.  Carlo visualized a 
whole fleet of ships.  They swarmed over the icy landscape causing
 great clouds of snow to fly into the air as they passed by.
	"Being that Jaton is at the merging of two rivers there will be 
plenty of ship builders there.  Lord Carlo, I understand you're a 
sailor?" demanded Mathex.  Carlo nodded.  "Then you can navigate
 this ship?  It will be like a sailed dory without a rudder?"
	"But you can't steer without a rudder," protested Carlo.
	"I know.  I'll have to devise a drag or something.  Ballast
 perhaps?"  Mathex pulled out a parchment and began to sketch 
rapidly with a chunk of charcoal.
	Brenda went back to chatting with Roreed  Eluth pestered 
Mathex with questions.  Carlo shrugged and mounted his gelding.  
Carlo began to day dream.



		"Honestly Lord Redhawk, they're a good group, but 
I think your 'elite' group are destined to die.  Carlo looks like he's 
never ridden a horse before, and he keeps day dreaming of the sea.
 Eluth can't even tell which way is north or figure out where he is on 
the map.  Brenda doesn't always listen to orders and Roreed is more
 likely to stab himself than the enemy," General Chek spat.  "I'm 
flattering them.  You couldn't have picked a group with more klutzes!"
	Redhawk was only half listening.  He was too caught up in 
once again seeing his homeland.  The chill mountain air seemed to 
embrace him and cradle him in the icy splendour all around him.
	Gisoni snorted.  "You won't get any response from Redhawk
 today General Chek.  He's busy.  The mountains are very important,
 if not sacred, to Kinians."
	Chek nodded and left.  There was no use talking to Redhawk
 now if he wasn't really listening anyway.
	"Talking to yourself," commented General Sardias.  She was 
tall, blond and blue-eyed.  Chek knew she was also as strong as an 
ox and as stubborn as a mule.
	Chek realized that he was indeed muttering to himself.  He 
clamped his mouth shut and glared at the general.  He knew there was
 no point in arguing so he immediately gave up.
	Sardias studied him seriously for a moment.  "Ist something 
wrong?" she demanded.
	"Nein."
	"Ya, dere ist.  Now what ist it?"
	"I don't have a problem."
	"Ya, you do!  I saw you talking to yerself!"
	Chek cursed and turned away.  Sardias followed and pestered
 him constantly.  He spurred his horse away and ignored her as she 
kept pace with him.
	Finally he reined in and turned to face her.  "Shouldn't you be
 doing something other than following me?" he demanded.
	Sardias bit her lip.  "Not at the moment.  Now answer me! 
Why were you talking to yourself?"
	Chek knew he'd regret it, but he refused to answer her and 
tell her that she was just too damn stubborn!  She walked away angrily
 and it was then that he realized that he'd spoken aloud.



		Ever so silently two figures crept through the corridors 
of Castle Redhawk.  They made their way to the stables where they 
readied two horses for themselves.  One of them struck flint against 
steel and lit a torch.
	"I really hate to leave Gith here with Larry, but I can't stand it,"
 said Victoria, mounting her stallion.
	Wynic frowned.  He wasn't thinking of Gith, but of a strange 
feeling like he was being watched.  He knew that feeling.  He had felt
 it many times just before being attacked.  This new feeling was 
different, there was no... hostility.
	He turned around and stared into the darkness.  "On second 
thought, I think we should stay. I'm going to see about something."
	Victoria saw the strange look in his eyes and shuddered.  She
 looked into the darkness and felt the feeling.  It wasn't hostile.



		The huntress cursed silently and ducked.  She swore
 that he'd seen her there, but she couldn't be sure.  She receded farther 
into the shadows and knelt there in silence.
	The woman looked in her direction, but there was no hint 
that she saw the huntress.  She heard the pair left the stables and the
 huntress forced herself to resume normal breathing.
	Making her way through the stables, she ended up in the 
smithy next to it.  Her pet waited silently, the snow melting off it's 
white fur coat.  Snowdancer knelt beside the cougar and sat wondering. 
 What if he-?
	"You know me, now introduce yourself."
	She felt a razor sharp blade come to rest under her chin.  She
 stopped breathing and looked at a polished shield to see herself and
 the assassin, Wynic Doxon.  She hadn't even 'sensed' his approach. 
How the hell did he do that?
	"On second thought, perhaps we should wait until my wife 
returns with my brother and a fellow cutthroat."



		Larry grumbled but got up.  Victoria hadn't talked to 
him for three days now and he was wondering if she could have 
forgotten about him.  Nah, he thought, not likely.
	Pothax was already on the move.  He had grown bored over 
the past week and his thirst for excitement was at the top of his list of 
things to see and do.  Deciding that the halls here inside the building 
had too many walls, he stepped out onto the balcony, climbed onto 
one of the vines used for making Kinian wine and slid neatly to the 
ground.
	Victoria, eager to get away from Larry followed.  Bren, his 
face a huge grin, came next and finally Larry, trying unsuccessfully to 
buckle his belt in the darkness.  He cursed when he reached the 
snow-covered ground.  He'd forgotten his shoes.



		Wynic lost his grip on the dagger and stared into his
 and the lady's reflection.  The same nose, the same eyes...  The 
dagger slipped between numb fingers.
	Feeling the dagger land in her lap, Snowdancer jammed her
 elbow into the assassin's stomach and spun around to face him.  She
 raised the dagger threatening.
	"I don't think you'd want to use that," came a sneering voice.
	Snowdancer felt a dirk pierce her fur cloak, her vest and tunic. 
It pricked her darkly tanned skin and she felt a trickle of blood run 
down her back.  She shivered.
	Pothax withdrew his dirk and sheathed it.  "Drop it," he ordered,
 placing a second dagger under her chin.  She obeyed.
	The cougar looked up at Wynic.  It appeared puzzled and 
switched it's gaze to Pothax.  Seeming to shrug its shoulders, it went 
back to sleep.
	"Who are you?" demanded Wynic slowly.  He retrieved and
 sheathed his dagger.  He stared at her in silence.
	Snowdancer looked up to meet the assassin's eyes.  Her eyes
began to mist over so she looked away in shame.  "Snowdancer," she
 replied quietly, "Doxon."



		To a regular traveler it seemed impossible that Waytorn
 could have arrived in Jaton from Glist when travelers from Athex still
 hadn't arrived.  Yet here he was in Jaton already.  News travels faster
 in the underworld and apparently so do people.
	He pounded on the door of a simple townhouse and waited
 impatiently.  It felt odd that he was actually knocking on a door since
 he usually entered through other means.  He looked around, wondering
 if she was even home.
	The door opened slowly and a fist came flashing out.  It struck 
him on the jaw and he tumbled backwards into the snow.  He looked
 up, dazed, at Dame Larel.
	The knightess was considered to be the greatest crossbowist 
on the continent and it was but a question of time until Waytorn, the 
King Culprit, came around wanting to hire her.  "I'm not for hire," she 
spat and slammed the door.
	Waytorn was not easily dissuaded.  He climbed to his feet and
 studied the closed door for barely a second.  he could easily break it 
down, but that wouldn't be polite.  Instead he knocked on the door 
loudly, prepared to duck this time.
	The door swung open and this time a steel-toed boot came
 out.  This time Waytorn was ready.  He sidestepped forward and
 grabbed hold of the Dame's thigh.  he ducked her punch and closed
 the door behind him.
	Larel pulled a pistol-crossbow from her vest and jammed it 
into Waytorn's throat.  "Get out!"  She tightened her finger around the
 trigger.
	"I'm not here to hire you," said Waytorn in his inexplicably calm
 voice.  "I've been asked by Lord Blackaxe and Lord Redhawk to 
inquire if you're interested in a teaching position.  Well?  Are you?"
	"You've got a lot of nerve coming back here.  What makes you
 think I'm not going to kill you?" snarled Larel.  Her grip on the trigger
 had caused her finger to turn white.
	"Because I saved your life," replied Waytorn.  "Twice."
	Larel cursed, took a step back and planted a kick in Waytorn's
 stomach.  Or at least that's where it would have gone had he not 
sidestepped and her foot went clear through the door.  She tried to pull
 her foot free, but discovered it was stuck.
	"Oh dear," remarked Waytorn coldly.  "I do believe you're 
stuck.  I'll just help myself to the Kinian brandy.  Why don't-"
	Larel reached out with one mailed fist and grabbed the
 cutthroat by the neck.  With the other, she punched a chunk of 
wood loose from the door and pulled her boot loose.  "You're 
leaving.  Now!"
	"On the contrary, I think I'll be staying," answered Waytorn, 
slamming his fist into her wrist.  Larel's grip loosened and he jumped 
out of reach.  "For quite awhile."
	Larel's face flushed red in anger.  "All right, all right!  I'll 
teach then.  Now get out!"
	"You know, dear, you've grown awfully tempersome in the
 past years.  Is there anything I can do about it?"  He looked around
 the room, studying Larel's crossbow collection.
	"Oui, you can leave!  I told you I never wanted to see your 
terrible face again!" spat Larel.  Almost immediately she regretted 
saying that.
	Waytorn's fists clenched and he looked at her.  His scarred 
face was pale and she could see tears shimmering in his eyes.  She'd
 never, in all the years that she'd loved him, ever seen him cry.
	"I'll-I'll leave now," said Waytorn slowly.  He walked towards
 the door and opened it.  He turned slowly to face her.  "If only I
 could go back and change everything I said and did," he said wistfully.
 He closed the door behind him reluctantly.
	Larel looked down at her hand.  It was clenched in an angry
 fist.  Blood was running freely from where the diamond on her wedding 
ring had bit into her palm.



		Wynic's knees buckled beneath him and he sank to
 the floor beside the albino cougar.  He stared up at who was very 
likely his half sister.  She looked like a twin except her hair was brown 
and her skin was heavily tanned.  She looked like a paler version of an 
Ice Folk maiden.
	Wynic and Pothax's father, Ror Doxon had been a huge, 
charming cutthroat.  The emphasis is on charming because he spent a
 great deal of his life luring young maidens away from their homes and
 families.  Not long after the maiden gave birth to a child, Ror would 
abandon her and take the child.  When Pothax was born, slavery was
 common in Avolic where Ror lived so Pothax was sold into slavery 
by his own father after a severe beating that nearly killed the boy.  Ten
 years later, after slavery was abolished, Wynic was born, though this
 time it was closer to a father-son relationship though many wondered
 about the multiple bruises on Wynic's body.  When a boy, perhaps
 five winters older than Wynic's eleven winters, confronted Ror it was
 clear to Wynic that the boy was his elder half-brother.  Ror killed him.
 Not long after Wynic murdered his father and ended his torture.
	Before his death, Ror had made many frequent journeys to the
 north and to the east.  It would be easy to say that on one of these 
journeys Ror ran into a young Ice Folk maiden that happened to meet 
his fancy.  The result was Snowdancer.
	It had been about five months ago when Wynic first met Pothax.
  Both had been shocked but the same could be said about now, though
 to a lesser degree.  It struck Wynic as funny that he might have 
hundreds of brothers and sisters he didn't know about, and he burst out
 laughing.
	Pothax's reaction was quite different.  He simply stood and 
stared dumbstruck at his sister.  Thoughts raced through his mind, but
 none of them seemed to register.  He was paralyzed.
	Bren sat down beside the cougar and stroked it's wet fur.  It
 growled and Bren yanked his hand back warily.  Then he laughed
 and realized it was purring.
	"I think we should go back to the suites and discuss this matter,"
 said Victoria.  She watched Snowdancer warily and kept her sword
 ready.  "Don't you agree Larry?"
	"Aye, aye Cap'n," mocked Larry.  He gave her an elaborate 
salute.
	"Shut up Larry."



		Nebonex and Cap'n Siars positioned themselves 
between Pothax, Wynic and Snowdancer.  Both knew of the Doxon's
 inherent rage and it's dangers.  Both wished Redhawk or Rades was
 here, they always seemed to be able to control the brother's tempers, 
a trait Victoria and Gith were just learning.
	Gith and Victoria sat opposite of Snowdancer, assuming the 
role of interrogators.  Gith like a wise but stern and understanding father,
 and Victoria, an experienced commander with an air of duty and 
obedience about her.
	Larry sat in a padded chair, 'sampling' Redhawk's supply of 
Kinian wine and brandy.  He seemed content to sit and listen to the 
discussion while watching Bren pet the cougar, Whitethunder, who 
lay in front of the fireplace soaking up warmth.
	Victoria took a deep breath.  "What proof can you provide 
that you're a Doxon?"
	Snowdancer, looking like a fragile yet stalwart doe in the face
 of a hunter, looked down.  Reaching inside her cloak she withdrew a
 silver chain.  Dangling from the chain was a tiny silver dagger.  "Ror 
gave this to my mother the last time he visited us in Fort Phal."
	Wynic drew a breath like a hiss.  He recognized it as his 
father's, it had even become a symbol of his father because Ror had
 always worn it.  He had never taken it off.  And yet when Wynic 
thought back he swore he'd seen it on his father the day he killed him.
 He lurched forward, hands outstretched for Snowdancer's neck.
	Nebonex heard the roar, sounding like a Kinian cougar so 
much that Whitethunder looked up and he knocked Wynic over the
 head.  The assassin sank back into his seat unconscious.
	Pothax didn't protest to his brother's injury.  He was too busy
 studying the tiny silver dagger.  It looked familiar though he couldn't
 remember why.  He barely remembered anything of that brief time 
he'd spent with his father before being sold into slavery.
	"Where did he go after he left?" asked Victoria.  She knew
 the story of Ror's death better than even Pothax and knew that Ror's 
body probably still lay in an alley in Jaton.
	"He went to the Minotaur Empire.  Years later-"  Snowdancer 
stopped abruptly and refused to continue on the subject.
	"Why are you here?" asked Gith.
	Snowdancer opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed 
it.  She would have said to kill Lord Redhawk, but then they'd ask why.
  She didn't even know why herself.  It was her orders and she was
 expected to carry them out.
	It became obvious that they wouldn't get her to talk about 
anything useful so Victoria and Gith eventually gave up.  Victoria 
would have to talk with Wynic when he woke up.  The assassin is the
 only one who could shed some light on the situation.
	Or perhaps Redhawk.



		Mathex had said dory, but what was built was closer
 to bark, a small sailing ship.  Actually the bark, was already built, it 
just needed some minor adjustment to make it 'iceworthy'.  Such things
 as adding steering ballasts, steel runners along the sides and the hull
 had to be cut down to decrease wind resistance and weight.
	Payment for the bark was charged to the Minotaur Empire
 through the castle's baron and the Minotaur Embassy in Athex.  
Mathex was certain that the Embassy would find this ship a valuable 
expenditure.  He just hoped it worked.
	Carlo had his doubts about the ship, but in the end, when he 
raised the sails and watched the ship drag their makeshift anchor for 
five hundred yards before the rope finally snapped, he decided the 
ship was more than 'iceworthy'.  
	It just needed a name suited for its purpose, something like 
Icecharger or Snowmaid.  Unfortunately Roreed decided to nick-name
 it Rat's Nest because of it's rat population.  To Carlo's never-ending 
despair, the name stuck.
	Thus on the eighth day of the first month in the year 2249 
was the first Iceship, named Rat's Nest, launched.



		Adrienne looked across the campfire and caught Dillard's 
eye.  She sipped at her hot tea and studied the knight.  The scar above
 his eye caught her attention.  "How'd you get that scar?  Was it during
 Kobalix's Quest?" she asked.
	Dillard blinked.  He reached under his cloak and withdrew a 
silver medallion.  "I gained it when I was an apprentice knight.  I'm 
sure you've heard the story of Hitlot?"
	"Versions of it, most of them probably exaggerated and missing
 parts of the true story," shrugged Adrienne.
	"Hitlot wanted to overthrow King Searle.  He gathered an 
army of renegade knights, cutthroats and mercenaries.  He trained them
 and prepared for an invasion on Jaton.  His plans were so advanced
 in comparison with modern tactics he'd have won with only half the 
men.  He started to capture other castles and estates in the direction 
of Jaton.  I had very few friends at the time and we had all traveled
 to Kinian on some hair-brained scheme to make us all rich.  We ran
 into one of Hitlot's war parties near Castle Redhawk.  They left us 
to die and went on to attack Castle Redhawk.  They managed to kill
 the aging  Lord, but gained a much younger man's vengeance.  Lord
 Redhawk, the one you've heard of, went to Avolic to hire Wynic
 Doxon, who was working for Queen Elexenia as a spy.  On the way
 he found me, barely alive and almost begging for death to be merciful. 
 He took me back to Castle Redhawk and left me with his squire.  He
 returned later with Wynic Doxon and a troop of Stornium knights.  
They planned to sneak into Hitlot's Castle through the cavern's linked 
to the wine cellars.  I accompanied them.  We got lost in the wall 
passages, Redhawk was supposed to be an expert, but he was drunk
 half the time."
	"Your version of Lord Redhawk certainly is less knight-like," 
commented Adrienne.
	"I'm sure he prefers the exaggerated version where he fights a
 huge muscular Hitlot and outwits the brute, but that didn't happen.  
Hitlot was a great military leader, but nevertheless he was very mad.  
He was a short, little fellow and took temper tantrums constantly.  In 
any amount he tripped on a rug and impaled himself on Redhawk's 
sword."  Dillard smiled in remembrance.
	"Why'd he hire Wynic then?"
	"It had never occurred to anyone that it could have been that 
easy to kill Hitlot.  It wasn't a waste though since we never would have
 made it out of there without Wynic.  Nobody has ever beaten Wynic
 in a sword fight that I know of.  Unless Wynic's father did, though 
you'd have to ask Wynic and he's tempersome where his father's
 concerned."
	"What about Kobalix?  Didn't he almost beat him?"
	"Almost.  He was faster, stronger, had more endurance and 
better training.  Wynic's cunning and skill won out though.  Wynic's 
different than most humans.  I hate to say it, but minotaurs are much
 better fighters than humans."
	"Now if only they were smarter," laughed Adrienne.
	Dillard shook his head.  "Once again the myth about minotaurs
 is shown.  They are the smarted ones."
	"What?  Have you been drinking?"
	"I'm more sober than you are.  Minotaurs are superiorly smarter
 than humans.  You're-"
	"But Wynic beat Kobalix!  He outsmarted him!"
	"Wynic is an exception.  He's spent his entire life perfecting the
 art of combat and killing.  So much that it's almost instinctful.  Now 
back on topic.  Who invented the galley?"
	"Minotaurs.  But-"
	"Who invented mangonels?"
	"Minotaurs."
	"Giant-crossbows?"
	"Minotaurs," replied Adrienne with a resigned expression.
	"Actually, it was a minotaur named Mathex.  He also invented
 the Goban.  Who invented distillation and discovered fermentation?"
	Adrienne stared.
	"Yes.  Once again it was the minotaurs.  They have a 
stronger government, more universities and started the Academy of 
Combat where Kobalix was trained and more industry.  They're richer 
too, I'll bet!"
	"Okay, okay.  You've proved your point," Adrienne snapped. 
"I didn't want a lecture on the subject of how stupid we are!"  She
 studied Dillard's medallion in the dying firelight.  "And what about that?"
	"I received it shortly afterwards Hitlot's death for bravery in 
battle."
	Adrienne nodded.  "You were one of the few that went to
 Kobalix's picnic?  Weren't you?"
	"Yes, as did Rades, though I don't remember why he got to 
go.  He's a fair swordsman, but he lacks the skill and discipline to
 become a great."



		"Oh great," said Rades with an oath in old Stornium.
 He felt like screaming in frustration.  And cold.  To the north of him 
was a lake.  He dared not cross it because of fear of thin ice.  It would 
take him two days to go around since the lake was cradled in a steep
 sided valley between two towering crags.
	He had no choice, so he started walking west.  He prayed his 
food would hold out until he reached a warm haven.  He prayed he 
wouldn't freeze to death.



		Roderick, called Derick for short, was Redhawk's 
squire.  He was trained as an apprentice doctor and as such had been 
the one to bandage Redhawk's should during Kobalix's Quest, make
 a cast for Wynic's fractured ribs and with the minotaur Mathex's help, 
invent and build the first wheelchair for Redhawk who had lost so much 
blood he couldn't stand.  He was also concerned about Redhawk's 
excessive drinking.
	Redhawk was drunk this morning due to drinking while taking
 his turn at the watch.  Usually they would dunk his head in a water 
barrel and wait for him to sober up.  Unfortunately, all the water was
 frozen.
	Gisoni crossed his arms and looked at Lord Blackaxe 
questioning.  "We could throw him river.  It might not be frozen yet."
	"Absolutely not," exclaimed Derick.  "The alcohol in his blood 
will give him pneumonia.  We need something that will serve as a shock,
 preferably something that doesn't kill him."
	"We could stuff snow down his back," suggested General
 Chek.  "That's always a sudden shock!"  He laughed and reached for 
some snow.
	"Wait that might not work either.  It has to be a shock to his
 entire system, not just his back," explained Derick.
	"Well, why don't we give him some Kinian brandy or Minotaur
 vodka and hope that gives him a shock.  Of course it'd probably make
 him worse," suggested Gisoni, adding the latter after a pause.
	"We might as well tie him across the saddle and depart from 
camp.  it will wear off.  At least I hope it does."
	"Queen Helen," said Derick cautiously, later that day.  "Why'd
 you marry Redhawk?"  He glanced at his drunken Lord still slung 
over the saddle.
	Helen frowned.  Her beautiful pale face studied Derick's for 
a moment.  She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it quickly.  
"Because I love him.  What other reason do I need and don't ask why,
 cause it's too confusing and too hard to explain," she said finally.
	"Why?"
	"That was a order," Helen said, ignoring his further protests.



		Pothax opened the door and received a sharp kick to
 the face.  He cried out in shock and pain and fell backwards.  He 
reached for a dagger hidden in his sleeve.
	A fist smashed into his cheek and he forgot about the dagger.
 He glanced up at his attacker and immediately ducked as a fist came
 flashing into view.  It was Snowdancer.  He would have felt faintly 
proud of his sister if not for the circumstances.
	Snowdancer struck out again with her fist and hit Pothax in the
 forehead.  The stunning blow caused unconsciousness and even before
 his head hit the wood floor she was busy stealing a dagger.  She 
glanced back at Nebonex lying unconscious in the room and fled on 
foot.
	When Wynic discovered her tracks later on it is interesting to 
note that she fled bare foot.  Her feet barely left marks in the snow as 
she passed.  It was almost like she had been skipping.  Or dancing.



		"My god, can she ever hit!" swore Nebonex, resting his 
head between his knees as Victoria instructed.  "I didn't even see it 
coming and she needed to do it only once too.  Didn't hear a thing 
either.  You got to be pretty good at stealth to manage that on minotaur
 ears!"
	"She's definitely a Doxon," commented Victoria.  "Only a Doxon
 could-"
	"No she isn't!" spat Wynic.  "That silver chain was left in a drunk
 alley with my father wearing it!  She must have found it somehow!"
	"Does this mean that we're going to pursue her?" asked Bren 
hopefully.
	"Definitely.  The war can wait.  This girl is involved in it somehow
 or otherwise she wouldn't be here!"
	"And what about her cougar?" asked Gith, pointing to the huge
 cat sleeping in front of the fireplace.
	"He'd make a good leadcat for the catsleds.  He may even lead
 us to her," said Victoria.  She cast a worried glance at her husband.

Chapter Four
		Waytorn glared at his reflection in the water.  The scars
 covering the fight side of his face stood out and seemed to mock him. 
They laughed and ridiculed him without end.  It wasn't really water he 
was looking at.  It was wine.  He was in a previously abandoned wine 
cellar.
	He had discovered the cellar many years ago among others.  It 
was surprising since every building in Jaton had a wine cellar, that you 
couldn't somehow go from one end of the city to the other by tunneling 
through wine cellars.  Waytorn had tried precisely that and found a horde
 of abandoned cellars overflowing with ancient wines and brandies.  He 
could easily make a fortune selling off the wine due to their age and the 
fact that they get better with age.
	Waytorn wished he could say the same.  He was growing old
 and sentimental.  He was stronger, faster and sharper than ever, but he 
didn't seem to have a point.  Almost like his favorite dagger, he was as
 hard and as strong as platinum and almost as sharp as the Swathick Axe.
  The difference was that he didn't have a point in life.  He was 
undoubtedly the richest person on the continent, if not the world, but
 none of that seemed to matter since the only woman he loved scorned
 him because of it.
	Honest money, Larel had called it.  What was honest money 
anyway?  Was it earning it or was it stealing it but admitting to it.  
Honest stealing?  Waytorn shook his head and uncorked another bottle
 with his dagger and a twist of the wrist.  He wondered what Larel 
thought of Wynic Doxon, the Paladin Assassin.
	She had warned him if he made the challenge that she wouldn't
 have anything to do with him.  Power and wealth had drawn him too
 much back then.  He challenged Jaton's underworld leader and won.
  The scarring of his face had seemed a small price to pay at the time.
  Now his horrid face prevented him from loving again and from
 returning to love.
	With no love he concentrated his efforts in gaining the 
underworld in Avolic, Athex, Glist and Solut.  Then Kobalix set up a
 stronghold north of Athex.  When Wynic Doxon assassinated the 
minotaur, Waytorn's wealth and power had spread to the Minotaur 
Empire.  To Gitsi, Lucasn, Borsta, Evicoth, Phost, Ralon, Kaliff, 
Goved, Marsc and even to the minotaur isles.
	The cutthroats, thieves, murderers, pirates, highwaymen and
 burglars that formed Waytorn's army were more allies than comrades.
  It was more or less a membership in security.  If one culprit was 
caught, others would come to rescue it.  Dues were paid in stolen 
goods, rescuing others and providing safe havens for escaped or wanted
 criminals.
	Waytorn's part in this was law-giver and judge.  All members 
must obey the rules set down by Waytorn and his deputies.  Any 
disregarded rules, such as no pouching, were dealt with by Waytorn 
or one of his many deputies.  Punishment was always death.
	There wasn't going to be any deaths today where poaching was
 concerned.  In addition to not being that profitable and hard work, 
there simply wasn't any poachers according to reports.  It wasn't 
profitable for the amount of work they put into it.
	Which left what had already been presumed: the poachers
 used to work for Kobalix.  Since they're in the Icelands they are
 practically safe from being captured and thrown in jail or killed if 
Waytorn's men caught them.  So perhaps poaching was the most 
profitable thing they could do in the Icelands, besides freeze.
	Because of this poaching business there was more patrols. 
This meant more members caught that needed rescuing.  More 
people leaving their regular jobs.  Less profits.  In the end, that was 
what it came down to: less profits.  The nobles would be pleased
 though since they'd be making more money off taxes.
	But what did Waytorn care about money.  Money couldn't 
buy the love of the woman he loved.  It never would.



		Wynic stopped eating his meal, and stared up into 
the mountains wondering.  That sound had been like a keg of black 
dust exploding, only smaller.  He glanced questioning at Pothax and
 Nebonex.  The huge minotaur prince shrugged and studied the forest
 edge.  Nothing moved among the trees.  He unsheathed his 
Gobansword anyway.
	Pothax stared blankly.  He spun around as if unsure of where
 the sound had come from.  "What was that?" he asked slowly.
	Wynic opened his mouth to speak, but was caught off guard
 when another thunder-like crack came and echoed off into the 
distance.  This time movement came from the forest and two figures 
wrapped in furs stepped into the open.  Wynic recognized one of 
them as Snowdancer.  The other looked a fair bit like Pothax though 
he was taller and a bit lanky.
	Victoria kicked the dinner fire out with snow.  She drew her
 sword and came over to stand beside Wynic.  Bren pushed past her 
to stand beside Pothax.
	The crossbow in the stranger's hand was what concerned 
Pothax.  It was missing the crosspiece and the footnock.  The barrel 
was longer than normal and the stock looked very plain.  It was 
obvious to him that it was the strange crossbow that had made that 
sound.
	"If we must kill you, we will not hesitate to do so," shouted 
Snowdancer.  "Leave," she commanded, pointing in the direction of 
Jaton.  "You will leave the cougar."
	Wynic had not felt fear in what felt like a decade.  Not since
 the night he'd killed his father which made him angry.  There was 
something about this strange weapon that made him feel helpless.  
Wynic restrained his anger.  His face went red with rage and he 
clenched his gloved fists.  He turned slowly to face Victoria.
	The brigadier only shook her head and studied the strange 
crossbow.  She felt naked and unprotected before the weapon.  It 
was probably some weapon built by Kobalix's army.  Since Kobalix
 encouraged the use of black dust it was quite possible that if these 
people used to work for Kobalix then it only made sense that the 
weapon involved black dust.  She swallowed a lump in her throat.
 "They're using black dust.  Retreat."



		Eluth quickly learned to vomit downwind instead of 
upwind.  He decided to retreat to his cabin to nurse his cold and 
would have done so had he not noticed an army in the distance.
	"That would be the Arthian Army," snorted Mathex.  He 
glanced at his map.  "We should be a short distance from Death canyon.
  If we go through the canyon itself it will be like being sucked through
 a wind tunnel."
	"Meaning?" asked Eluth.  He pulled his cloak tighter and 
sneezed.  He fished inside a pouch and pulled out a small bottle of 
whiskey.
	"Meaning we'll be able to go twice, maybe thrice as fast as 
we are now," explained Mathex.  He grabbed Eluth's whiskey bottle
 and tossed it over the gunwale.  "That's the worst thing for a cold!"
	"It's my cold and I'll do what I want to," exclaimed Eluth, 
shoving the huge minotaur.  He watched the bottle disappear into the 
powdery snow.  He sneezed again.
	"Argue that with Derick, Redhawk's squire.  He'd have knocked
 you over the head and fed you spinach gruel or celery soup.  Alcohol
 only makes you want to vomit more the next morning."
	Eluth sneezed and stomped off to his cabin.  He snapped at 
Brenda for getting in his way.
	"What's wrong with him?" she asked, a bit bewildered.  She 
glanced back in Eluth's direction.
	Mathex shrugged.  "Some people get tempersome when they're
 sick."  He stared at the Arthian Army.  "Or demented," he added.
	"Why do you say that?"
	"You've heard of how Kobalix was demented?"
	"Of course.  Who hasn't?"
	"Well, I should have seen his temper as a sign of his lack of 
saneness.  Nobody paid much attention to Kobalix though and perhaps 
that's why he became insanely jealous of the Emperor in the first place; 
lack of recognition."
	A group of knights and minotaurs appeared to be marching in
 Rat's nest's direction.  From their formation, Brenda guessed they 
were escorting someone.  A general or the marshal perhaps.
	"Drag the ballasts," Mathex shouted to Sir Carlo.  He loosened
 the rigging and the sails went slack.  The ship coasted to a stop.
	A short, bald man with a huge saber strapped to his back rode
 forward to greet Mathex.  He rode awkwardly at a varying pace.  
Brenda laughed and whispered in Mathex's huge ear that the bald man
 rode like Carlo.
	"Captain Savin," shouted Carlo.  He waved at the bald man
 and received a wave back.  He ran forward to join Mathex and 
Brenda in the bow of the small ship.  "Guten tag, Herr Savin.  And 
what are you doing this far north?"
	"I might ask you the same thing," spat the retired pirate.  "And
 in a ship for that matter.  Didn't anyone ever tell you that ships are 
meant for the sea?"
	"Not this one Cap'n.  She's meant to work like ice skates.  It
 seems to me that it's better this way that you can't sink.  The ice 
would rip holes in the hull, but since she's made of Arthian oak that
 isn't a problem.  Plus the runners are the only things that touch the ice
 anyway."
	Savin nodded dubiously.  "What's her name?  Icemaiden?"
	"I wish," snorted Carlo.  "Unfortunately one of my companions 
decided to call her Rat's nest.  I'd much prefer your name."
	"Savin Guerkenstein?"
	"No!  Icemaiden!"
	"I don't know," commented Brenda teasingly.  "Guerkenstein 
sounds pretty.  It has a sort of ring to it.  Don't you agree Mathex?"  
The huge minotaur laughed and nodded.
	"Will you hurry up with the pleasantries, Savin?" shouted a 
voice from within the formation.  "Ask Mathex what he's doing here!  
Damn your Stornium politeness!"
	"King Willium is impatient to get out of the cold," remarked 
Savin.  "Shall we continue this conversation in the main cabin?  We 
can discuss the ship there."



	"Congratulations Mathex," said Willium, toasting the minotaur 
with a goblet of Kinian wine.  "You've proven your ingenuity once again.
  If we could build a fleet of ships like this in Jaton we could convoy
 supplies and men to Fort Phal without interference."
	Savin looked up from where he was going over designs with 
Carlo.  "My father was a ship builder as you know Willium and I could 
help Mathex improve his designs here.  They have some small flaws in 
them that I could help remove."  He held up the design of a ship 
resembling a minotaur longboat.  "For instance this design is too thin
 from starboard to port and it would easily capsize."
	Mathex nodded thankfully.  "I'd enjoy a lesson in ship 
construction, Cap'n Savin.  Perhaps you could solve some problems
 I've run across in my designs.  What would your suggestion be for
 fixing that design?"
	"Add pontoons for support."
	Mathex, Savin and Carlo sat down at a table and designed the
 first Icewarship and Icecargoship.  They discussed convoy systems
 and attack strategies.  Caught up in the moment they went on to design 
small one or two man scoutboats; cavalry ships designed to spear the
 enemy with the bow of the ship.



		A group of twelve knights met Victoria's party two 
leagues east of Jaton.  She talked to them briefly in private and waved 
good-bye as they rode away on snowflake covered steeds.  She 
looked unhappy and a bit angry.
	"What did they say?" asked Bren and Pothax in unison.
	"Yeah, what did they say?" demanded Larry.  "You look 
pretty ticked off, Vicky!"
	Victoria glared at the cutthroat.  "For once you're right, Larry.
  I am 'ticked off'," she mimicked.  "And don't call me Vicky!" she 
said, muttering something about ripping entrails out with a shovel.
	"I think I can guess as to what they said," muttered Nebonex.
 "The morale in Jaton is incredibly low.  They need something to cheer
 them up.  A celebration or parade perhaps?"
	Victoria nodded slowly.  "They want us to wait for the Arthian
 and Stornium Armies so we can all enter at once.  The Colnic army 
is camped north of the city and will enter at the same time in a huge 
parade.  The sheer numbers will cause everyone not to worry about 
the war situation and that some of their kin is stranded in Fort Phal 
without supplies."
	Larry stared.  "Politics.  We're being told to freeze out here 
in the cold because of politics?  Well, count me out!  I'll see you later
 if I have to!  I'm not freezing my rear end off out here in the cold!"
	Inwardly, Wynic and Victoria cheered.



		"Wait!" snarled King Willium.  "They want me to wait?" 
he shouted at the messenger.  He pounded a mailed fist against the 
wall of his cabin.
	The messenger nodded frantically.  "Yes, Sire.  The knight 
said that the morale in Jaton is terrible and that a military parade would
 boost spirits.  They're also concerned about the royal family.  They-"
	"Yes, yes, the royal family is quite distraught.  All five-sorry 
four, boys and six girls.  Their father and mother especially," Willium
 sighed, remembering the family's last visit to a somewhat war torn 
Athex.  "Very well.  We will wait just out of sight from Jaton until the
 Stornium Army and Blackaxe's Army catch up."  The King turned to
 Mathex and Savin.  "You two can go ahead and see to the building 
of these Iceships.  I understand the army ran across Victoria and 
Wynic's party.  Find Nebonex and take him with you.  He'll take care
 of any diplomatic problems you might run into.  Do-"
	"I'm already here your majesty," snorted Nebonex, knocking 
on the inside of the door as he entered.  He shook the snow from his
 cloak and turned to face Mathex.  "You've done it again I see," he 
growled.
	"Yes.  I humbly accept your compliment, My Great Prince," 
saluted Mathex stiffly.  "I would be honoured to have you accompany 
us."
	"Twenty minotaurs should be a sufficient honour guard,"
 muttered Nebonex.
	"But what of this parade?" protested William.
	"The diplomats here in Jaton don't know me yet Willium.  I 
will need some sort of guard to at least get their cooperation," 
explained Nebonex.  "And then there's the matter that I won't be in 
the parade since the last parade I was in I was shot at."
	"I pray that doesn't happen again," spat Willium.



		"I sent word ahead to Waytorn to tell him that he'll
 be in charge of security," explained Victoria.  "We encountered 
problems in the mountains on the way here and I want to be doubly 
sure we don't have another incident like that one before Kobalix's 
Quest."
	"Surely the Kinian Army can handle the parades security," 
protested Willium.  "I know you said doubly sure, but after Kobalix's 
Quest the Army has been sorting through the possibilities and making 
sure that sort of thing doesn't happen again.  Why-"
	"For every possibility the Army tries to prevent there are a
 dozen others they haven't even thought of," interrupted Pothax, usually
 quiet during political and military matters.  "If Kobalix's ex-henchmen 
are involved, I'm sure black dust will also be involved.  If someone 
planted a barrel of the stuff under the street in a sewer, what could we
 possibly do to prevent them from lighting it when we go by?  There 
are simply too many variables and possibilities involved for a recently 
enlightened army to handle."
	"While Waytorn's men do have the experience and the numbers
 to handle the matter," finished Wynic.  "Have you heard any news from
 Jaton or the Stornium Army?  Or the Minotaur Empire for that matter?"
	Willium nodded sadly.  "The Minotaur Empire won't be 
sending help.  They have their own problems in Gitsi and even far-flung
 Lucasn.  They can't get supplies to the mining city of Gitsi because of 
raiding Ice Tribes.  Lucasn has a mutual problem of pirates and Ice
 tribes preventing supplies from reaching the city," he explained.  "The 
word from Jaton is that King Sear is being encouraged to abdicate and
 that is complicating his decisions.  He hasn't yet decided if he has to go
 to war or declare martial law.  He's taken up the pipe unfortunately.  
That's a sign to me that he's having a great share of problems and his 
son's death is hampering him."
	"What of Redhawk, Blackaxe and Helen?" demanded Victoria.
  "How is Redhawk's shoulder?  Will he ever swing a sword again?"
	"Derick rode ahead with the scouts as I understand and is on 
his way to meet us.  He can explain Redhawk's condition.  Other than
 that we've had no news except that Blackaxe was ambushed in 
southern Arthian and is now walking with a limp."
	"Would you like a tour of my ship?" asked Sir Carlo after 
Willium left to talk with Savin and Mathex.  "She's a real beaut!  One 
of a kind too!"
	"Actually," replied Wynic, turning to face the ex-commodore. 
"I was wondering what you, Roreed and Eluth are doing here?  And 
why?"  He looked around the ship deck questioning.
	"Elite training.  Marines, if you ask me.  Amphibious training.  
We-"
	"Isn't amphibians like frogs?" demanded Victoria.
	"Well, yes.  The basic meaning is all-terrain.  We're being 
trained everything, field tactics, leadership, crossbowship, bowmanship,
 weapons and their different uses, drills, military law, fitness and 
whatever else they can think of.  Mathex mentioned getting Derick or 
some other doctor to give a lesson on how to dress wounds and basic
 anatomy so we know where it will hurt more, or something like that," 
explained Carlo.  "Did I miss anything?" he asked, turning to Brenda.
	"To emphasize our special ranks we've been  knighted," she 
replied.  She looked at Victoria.  "General Chek mentioned something
 about a certain brigadier giving archery lessons."
	Victoria blushed and opened her mouth to reply, but Mathex 
beat her.  "Did Chek also mention a test on the force's current abilities 
and combat skills?  As soon as you arrived in Jaton?" he asked.
	Brenda and Carlo looked at each other with blank, stunned 
expressions.  "No," replied Carlo with a fair bit of uncertainty.  "What
 sort of test?"
	"I'll need to speak with Wynic, Victoria and Pothax first."



		"This is not your average test," spat Carlo, crouching
 behind an apple tree.  The apple orchard was the only available 
where the terrain varied almost constantly.  Some places were steep,
 some icy some without obstacles to hide behind.
	"Shut up," muttered Roreed.
	"Why don't you?"
	"Me?  You're the one making all the noise!"
	Brenda smacked the two men over the head, swearing under 
her breath.  "If both of you don't be quiet, I'm going to march out in
 the open and reveal to Victoria where we all are!  Don't even look
 at one another unless it has to do with the mission!" she hissed.
	"What is the mission again?" asked Eluth, his voice barely a 
whisper.
	"Capture the flag without getting caught by Wynic or Pothax 
or shot by Victoria.  What could be simpler?  It's a game!" explained 
Brenda patiently, looking around for signs of the enemy.
	"If we could find the flag.  Which is impossible when you're 
stuck with imbeciles!" muttered Roreed.
	"And those who can't shut up," said Carlo, rolling behind a 
rock.  He was careful to stay out of Roreed's reach.
	"That's it!  I'm-" said Brenda, getting to her knees.
	"Wait I can see the flag!" whispered Carlo urgently.  He
 pointed frantically at the copse of fur trees to the west.  "I can see 
the red from it!"
	"Let's see," whispered Eluth, rolling over the ice to where
 Carlo was hidden behind a huge rock.  "Ya!  Das ist es!  What a
 lucky break!"
	"Shh!"
	"Sorry."
	"Eluth," whispered Carlo.  "Could you make it to those 
boulders with all the grape vines?  Without getting shot by Victoria?"
	"If it's not icy, ya.  But that would give our location away.
 Wouldn't it?"
	"That doesn't matter if we want to distract Victoria so 
Brenda can get into that bush.  Roreed and I will support her flanks
 in the event that Wynic or Pothax show up.  After you get to the 
boulders, circle around behind the trees.  Victoria will probably 
follow so we won't have to worry about getting hit by a blunt arrow."
	Eluth nodded and scrambled past Roreed to hide behind an
 apple tree.
	"I'd almost dig a tunnel through the deep snow except that 
would take too long," Carlo whispered to Brenda.  The dame nodded. 
 "By then they'd have caught Eluth and we'd only be half the way to
 the flag."
	"We'll just have to run it.  Wait five seconds after Eluth goes
 before going through.  Victoria will have to reload very quickly to get 
us," explained Roreed, scrambling across the ice to crouch beside 
Brenda.  "Go whenever you want to Eluth," he hissed.
	Eluth didn't even nod in reply and simply ran.  Carlo heard the
 sound of an arrow smashing into the ice and splintering.  Ice, and from
 the sound of it Victoria was shooting with enough force to stun a man
 senseless with her padded arrows.
	"Go," spat Roreed.
	The three knights raced across the open clearing towards the
 copse of trees.  Carlo heard the sound of an arrow against armour and
 heard Roreed swear an oath.  Victoria was a faster shooter than the 
knights had thought possibly.
	An eruption of powdery snow from a snow drift directly in front
 of Brenda proved to be Wynic Doxon.  He caught the knightess as her
 momentum pulled her into his arms.  Carlo was the only one left.
	The knight pushed through the branches and into the inner 
clearing.  He looked around frantically for the flag.  Where was it?
	Pothax snatched his red scarf from a tree limb.  "Decoy worked," 
he smiled as he tied it around his neck.  "Are you the only one left?" he 
asked.
	Carlo tried to turn around frantically, but his boots slipped on 
the ice underfoot.  He fell to the ground, knowing they had failed the
 test.  Pothax reached down and poked him in the chest.
	"Test over. You failed, I'm afraid."
	"Not exactly," said Victoria, pushing through the tree branches.
  She held up the flag in one hand.  "Eluth found it in the boulder pile.  
If they had failed they would have all charged the decoy instead of 
making a distraction."
	"Why didn't you shoot at me again if you knew I'd find it?" 
demanded Eluth, pushing through the branches behind Wynic and
 followed by Brenda and Roreed.  "Instead you shot Roreed!"	"If she didn't, one of you might have realized the decoy and 
escaped our trap," Wynic explained.  "I nearly froze my butt off in that 
snow drift for almost half an hour!  Let's get back to camp and report 
that you passed.  Not the way you would have preferred to, but you
 passed the test nevertheless."



		"You want me to wear a cape?" asked Wynic.  He 
studied the red cape dubiously.  "Why?  They always get in the way!"
	"Willium explained that it's in fashion and that commoners find 
capes dashing.  Red makes a person look more aggressive so Willium 
picked out a red cape for each of us to wear," Victoria explained, tying
 the crimson cape to her shoulder plates.  "He also said something 
about calling us the Crimson Companions so the bards have something
 to call us.  There.  How do I look?" she asked, striking a pose.
	"Dashing," Wynic replied sarcastically.  "So we have to go 
through the trouble of getting these damn things unsnagged from the 
saddle everytime we turn around?  Just for morale's sake?"  He tied 
the cape loosely to his cloak and frowned.  "It doesn't feel right.  I 
better take it off."
	"That's because it's too loose," remarked Victoria.  "Here let 
me tie it tighter.  I can-"
	"No! Any tighter and the damn thing will feel like a noose!  I'd
 rather look like a fool than not being able to breath!"
	"Don't be such a baby!"
	"Ya.  Don't be such a baby, Wynic," smiled Pothax, throwing 
back the tent flap.  "I for one am in favour of the cape.  Quite a fashion 
statement, don't you think, Victoria?"
	"If you wear it properly," grunted Victoria.  She tied the straps
 tighter and stepped back to admire.  Wynic pretended to gag from 
lack of air.



		"What's wrong with Wynic?" whispered Derick.  He
 pointed at the assassin astride a gelding.  Wynic had a resigned, 
pouty expression on his face.
	"He says the cape fees like a noose and that he can't breath 
that well," explained Willium.  "I think he just doesn't like being stared
 at and I tend to agree.  I've had people stare at me all my life it seems
 and it got to be a huge nuisance.  Then one day, I-"
	"Hey, I heard this story," exclaimed Derick.  "Some courtier 
thought it impolite to stare at your majesty and you rewarded him.  
Since then all the courtiers have been very careful not look at you 
directly in hopes of getting rewarded."
	"Exactly.  A story.  An idea Gith gave me and it worked, thank 
God.  I don't think it will work in Wynic's case though."  Willium sighed.
  "Oh, how's Redhawk?  Where is he?"
	"Redhawk's looking for Wynic and Wynic's looking for 
Redhawk.  You'd think they'd eventually bump into each other, but 
they 'aven't yet.  Go figure."  Derick paused and spoke in a lower tone. 
 "As for his shoulder, I re-examined it before we left Glist.  There are
 a few fractures that 'aven't healed yet, but he'll be okay as long as he
 doesn't try to lift anything too heavy.  If he does the fracture may get 
bigger or even break.  Plus there's still piece of the spear point lodged
 in there.  That's a major problem because he has a multiple fracture in 
one bone.  If that one breaks, it won't heal back without some major
 surgery."
	"Does Redhawk know this?"
	"Oui.  So does Wynic, but Redhawk forbade me to tell Victoria
 since she always fusses over Redhawk's shoulder," Derick snorted and 
studied the steam in front of his nose.
	Willium nodded in understanding.  "I've seen Victoria pestering
 Wynic about his ribs and it doesn't surprise me that Redhawk wants to
 avoid that sort of treatment.  Did you examine Wynic's ribs?"
	"Oui, they've healed quite nicely which isn't surprising since it
 was a clean break.  I still say he's lucky.  Most people would be dead
 after falling a 'undred feet and landing in a lake.  He got away with only
 a couple broken ribs."



		The huge bronze gates opened slowly and Wynic's huge
 black gelding stepped tentatively forward.  The crowd gathered in the
 streets cheered wildly at the sight of the Paladin Assassin and the 
warhorse flattened its ears and bared its teeth.  Wynic coaxed it forward
 soothingly and nudged the horse's flanks.
	The gates opened wider and the chill wind tore at Victoria's 
long brown hair and cape.  "Pothax," she hissed harshly.  "Have you 
seen Redhawk."
	The cutthroat shrugged and maintained his grip on his black 
stallion.  The horses weren't used to screaming crowds and neither 
were they prepared.  "He's supposed to be coming, but I haven't seen
 him.  Which reminds me; what happened to Dillard and Rades?"
	Wynic shrugged.  "They went through one of the mountain 
passes.  If the pass got closed down because of an avalanche it could
 be another month before they arrive."
	"Wynic," shouted a deeply accented Kinian voice.  "Sorry,
 I'm late.  I saw this group of circus people and I had some difficulty
 convincing them to be in this parade."
	"Redhawk!" cried Victoria, turning in her saddle to face the 
huge Kinian knight riding up to join them.  "How are you?  How's 
your shoulder feeling?  Did you have any problems on the trip north?"
	"Fine, fine and yes," snorted the Kinian.  "We'll have to leave 
all that until later.  We're being watched right now."  Redhawk smiled 
and waved at the gathered populous.
	Wynic grinned and drew his bastardsword.  He held the heavy 
platinum sword overhead and waved it at the crowds of people.  The 
sun's rays caught the blade and it shone like a miniature sun.

Chapter Five
		"My arms are getting sore," remarked Pothax.  He 
tossed the shortsword from his left hand to his right.  "On second 
thought," he said, sheathing the sword and taking out several daggers. 
"I can always juggle."
	"On a skittish stallion?" asked Redhawk.  "Are you nuts?  
What if the horse finally decides its had enough of yelling people?"
	"Redhawk," said Wynic.  "You once saw me throw daggers 
at a target blindfolded.  I didn't miss once.  Pothax is just as good as
 I am, if not better.  There is no way he'll drop one!"
	"Juggling blindfolded, now that would be a challenge."  Pothax
 glanced away from his juggling to stick his tongue out at Redhawk.  
"Though I'd prefer not to do it with sharpened daggers."
	"Show off."  The knight shook his head and decided to change
 the subject.  He didn't dare switch his sword to his swordarm though
 his left arm was getting sore to the point of agony.  "I see Mathex has
 managed to invent a new ship type.  I would have thought you'd tear 
a hole in the hull with a rock or something."
	"Arthian Oak," smiled Victoria.  She frowned.  "Wynic, did 
Willium mention anything about bringing Princess Darylinn along?  I 
could have sworn I just heard her laugh!"
	"Well, no, but it wouldn't surprise me.  Willium's always talked
 about bringing Darylinn to Kinian someday.  Bren, you're her friend.
 Did she mention anything about coming to Kinian?"
	The boy looked up from where he was riding behind Pothax. 
"No, well actually yes.  She said something about getting the King to
 take her, but she wasn't sure if he would."
	"Oh he would," grunted Redhawk.  "He's always had a soft 
spot for that girl.  She's a tricky little thing though from what I hear. 
But she's his only heir and he's probably concerned about her.  In a 
way, she'd be safer traveling with an army than staying in Athex."
	"Maybe not," spat Victoria, looking pointedly at the city walls.
  In comparison to Athex's walls, a hundred feet high and thirty feet 
thick, Jaton on the other hand had ten feet thick, forty feet high walls
 with crenelated battlements.  The towers were sixty feet high and had
 mangonels, trebuchets and giant-crossbows at the top of them.  "With
 Athex's walls the city guard and the palace guard could defend her 
easily against an small army."  She sighed.  "At any rate, if Darylinn's
 here, I'll probably be giving lessons.  If not to Darylinn to the 'elite'."
	"There's the palace," spat Pothax.  "Who wants to bet that it 
will be a day before there's a military meeting?  What with all the 
banquets to improve the royal family's morale?"
	"I'll bet in favour of that," replied Redhawk.  "Maybe even 
two days before such a conference.  I'll bet two days before a 
conference.  Will you bet one day, Pothax?"
	"Sure.  What's the stakes?"
	"Money is a poor prize.  How about the winner decides upon
 something embarrassing for the other to do?  How about it?"
	"So when I win, I could have you shave off one of your 
mustaches.  You'd look pretty ridiculous walking around with only one
 mustache!  What do you think Wynic?"
	"Watch out, you both lose if it takes three or four days," came 
the reply.



		The banquet that night was lavishly decorated and the
 guests couldn't help but smell the venison being roasted, cooked, 
baked and even fried in the kitchen.  Antique bottles of brandy were 
brought out and served.  They even broke into the Forty-fourteenth 
vintage.
	The Forty-fourteenth vintage was a famous year for wine.  The
 appleblossoms and grapes had grown to a state that was perfect for
 wine making.  The product was later named Ambrosia because the 
vintage was so sweet and intoxicating.
	"Now Pothax," said Redhawk, sipping lightly at Ambrosia.  
"The Royal Family of Kinian is very interesting and they have a knack
 for coincidences.  First of all-"
	"Not that speech," sighed Helen and Wynic together.  They 
looked at each other and laughed.  "He's told you it too, hasn't he?" 
he asked.  Helen nodded.
	Victoria raised an eyebrow.  "Please continue Redhawk.  I 
could use a laugh."
	Redhawk frowned at Wynic.  "Could you and Helen be quiet?"
 he asked politely.  "First of all, there is King Sear or Searle.  You've
 met him and he's definitely a warrior-king fellow.  His name means 
Armed-one.  Do you see where I'm going with this?"
	"Sort of."
	"His wife, Colette means Victorious Army.  She too is a 
warrior.  Prince Harold is a high ranking soldier.  His name means 
Army Ruler.  The late Prince Roger was in the cavalry and his name
 is old Kinian for Spearman," explained Redhawk.  "Are you starting 
to understand yet?"
	"Yes," replied Pothax.
	"How about you Victoria?"
	"I think so," said Victoria with a questioning glance at Wynic.
 Where was this leading.  The assassin shook his head and smiled.
	"Princess Kelly and Princess Kerry are twins.  Kelly means 
Warriormaid and she is in the infantry as a captain last I heard.  Kerry
  means Dark One.  She's a big fan of the Paladin Assassin."
	Wynic blushed.
	Redhawk continued, sipping at Ambrosia occasionally.  
"Nobody sees Prince Boyce much because he takes many trips into 
the woods on hunting trips.  What's his name mean?"
	"Forester," guessed Pothax.
	"Hunter?" asked Victoria.
	"From the Forest.  Next there is another pair of twins: Princess
 Nicole and Princess Leana.  Nicole means the same as Colette which 
is Victorious Army.  She too is in the army.  Leona is the captain of a 
cougar cavalry.  What does her name mean?"
	"Lion," replied Victoria.  Pothax nodded in agreement.
	Redhawk nodded.  "Liongirl.  Princess Darcy is in the palace 
Guard.  Her name is old Kinian for From the Fortress.  Prince Luc is 
King Sear's squire.  His name means Lightbringer.  The youngest pair 
of twins is Tracy-Saber and Ila-Emerald.  They are too young for 
ranks in the army, but what does their names mean?"
	"Something sword and something emerald," shrugged Victoria.
	"Redhawk grinned.  "Tracy-Saber is old Kinian for Boldsword.
 Ila-Emerald means Battlegem.  Now what does my name mean?"
	Victoria frowned.  She couldn't remember Redhawk's first name
 because she never used it.  All she could remember was it was old
 Stornium which was odd for a Kinian and it was insulting because
 she'd heard Rades swear it a couple times.  "How'd this conversation
 get started?" she asked suddenly.
	Pothax looked up.  "I asked Redhawk what his first name was."
	Helen and Wynic snickered.  Victoria turned to face the two.
 "What's Redhawk's name?" she demanded.
	Wynic shook his head helplessly.  "Sorry Victoria.  Redhawk
 swore us to secrecy when he told us.  They said it during our wedding 
though."
	Victoria thought back to her and Wynic's wedding three 
months earlier.  She remembered Rades and Lord Blackaxe, both 
Storniums, laughing when Redhawk's name was mentioned.  "I know 
that it wasn't a compliment which is why Redhawk never tells anyone."
	"Very true," Redhawk replied.  "Now I'd like you two to swear
 you'll never tell anyone it on your soul."
	"I swear," grinned Victoria and Pothax in unison.  Pothax 
crossed his fingers.  He thought seriously about it though and 
uncrossed them.
	"My name is Dumbkopf.  It's old Stornium for stupid or dumb.
  Only it's very stupid and considered a very high insult in Stornium"
	Pothax snorted.  "Why'd your parents call you that?"
	"I'll tell you later.  Who is that?" Redhawk demanded.  He 
pointed at a flashily dressed short man.  He was making his way 
through the crowd towards them.
	Victoria groaned.  "It's Larry.  Wynic, you mentioned showing
 me your house here in Jaton.  I wouldn't mind leaving now."
	"I'm already looking for an escape route," Wynic replied.
 Pothax nodded and followed.
	Redhawk and Helen watched them leave in puzzlement. "What's
 wrong with this Larry?" Helen asked.  "They act as if he's leprous or
 has the plague!"
	Redhawk shrugged in response.  Ten minutes later they 
regretted not following Pothax out the window.  Redhawk wished 
Wynic had warned them about Larry's non-stop chattering.  He was
 incredibly obnoxious.



		Dame Larel frowned and took a drink of Ambrosia. 
Waytorn wasn't here.  Though the King of Cutthroats was now 
considered a bit of a celebrity it was obvious why he didn't show up 
at court festivities.  She wanted to apologize, but she wasn't sure if she
 wanted to do it here.
	The banquet was moody and melancholy despite the festive
 atmosphere.  King Searle and Colette were absent.  Rumour was
 Colette hadn't left the cathedral since she heard of Roger's death.  
Larel took another drink.
	A young maiden dressed in lightweight ceremonial armour sat 
down beside Larel.  Her hair was cut short around the shoulders and 
she had large sad doe eyes.  "Good evening she said, trying to sound 
cheerful.
	"Didn't your father teach you not to lie, Princess Kerry?" asked
 Larel.  She lifted her glass to take another drink.
	"I'm Kelly and yes, my father taught me not to lie.  It is a good
 evening even if spirits aren't," the Princess replied.  She eyed the 
crossbowist with concern.
	Larel downed the last of the Ambrosia and poured another 
glass.  "I didn't know.  These spirits are pretty good," she said, 
indicating the Ambrosia.  "Wantsum?"
	"No.  I don't drink."
	Larel snorted.  "A Kinian that doesn't drink!  That's rich!  In 
fact, it's Royal!"  She laughed and took another drink.
	"Is there something wrong that you're drinking so much?" 
demanded Kelly, taking the Ambrosia bottle away.  "You're drinking 
like a Colnic camel that's been lost in the desert for a couple years."  
The Princess waved at one of her brothers.
	"Perhaps," muttered Larel, draining the glass goblet.  She 
reached for the Ambrosia bottle.  "Would you mind passing the bottle?"
	"Sure," answered Kelly, handing the bottle over.  "Why don't 
you tell me about it?"
	Larel groaned and poured another goblet full.  She considered 
drinking directly from the bottle, but that would be impolite.  Especially
 in front of the Princess.  "You've heard of the King Culprit?"
	"Of course.  My sister adores stories about him and the Paladin
 Assassin," Kelly replied.  She wondered if she should invite her sister 
over for the story, but banished the thought.
	"You've heard of how he sacrificed love and honour for power 
and wealth?" asked Larel, her voice growing slurred.  Kelly nodded. 
The Dame took another drink and continued.  "He and I-"
	"Kelly's eyes went wide and her breath got caught in her throat.
  She stared at the knightess for a moment, but she quickly regained 
her composure.  "Were you two lov-"
	"I have to leave," said Larel abruptly.  She got to her feet 
unsteadily and lurched towards the doors.  She caught herself, steadied 
her stance and walked out with her head held high.
	Kelly stared after the knightess for a long time.  The stories of
 Waytorn's love affairs were always those of whores prostitutes and 
warriormaidens.  They were not of Knights such as Dame Larel.  
Larel was a strong and proud woman, completely unlike the frivolous
 whores in the stories.  She decided not to tell her sister Kerry about 
this.  This was one secret she was going to keep.  For Larel's sake.



		"Father?"
	King Sear looked up, his gray eyes flashing dangerously.  He 
lowered his hostile exterior when he saw it was his firstborn son, 
Harold.  "Yes son.  Have you come to pray for Roger?"
	Harold sighed deeply.  "I have already prayed for Roger, 
father.  I've come to pray for mother."
	Searle nodded in understanding and returned his teary gaze to
 the altar.  "I have taught you well.  The living are far more important 
than the dead.  You fear your mother's weeping may effect her good 
health?"
	"IT would be a sad thing indeed to have two funerals," replied
 Harold solemnly.  He knelt down beside his father before the shadowy 
altar.  "Or three funerals."
	Searle looked up.  "What do you mean?" he demanded.  "Are
 you to pray for me as well?"
	"No father you will not die on a sick bed.  I have a feeling.  
You're not the type of man to die lying down," said Harold.  He listened 
to the sounds of festivities in the distance for a moment.  "Nicole on
 the other hand is not faring well."
	"Oh?  How so?  I haven't seen her in the chapel as of yet?"
	"She has taken a different attitude towards Roger's death.  At
 first she had tried to ignore it by pretending it didn't happen.  She 
nearly strangled one of the servants when he asked her how she felt.
  Now she's busy drinking at the banquet."
	Sear sighed heavily.  "That is the way with some people.  
They'll drink themselves silly, cry their heart out for a period of time
 and then it will be all over with.  I've always wished I could do that."
	"You're lucky," came a voice from shadows.  "It doesn't hurt
 when you cry."  The speaker moved forward so Harold could see 
his face.
	"How long have you been there Waytorn?" Sear demanded
 angrily.  His hand snaked to the hilt of his longsword.  He hoped he
 wouldn't have to use it.  Not here.
	"Since before you arrived here your majesty," Waytorn replied,
 ducking back into the shadows.  "You're not the only one to come to
 the cathedral to beg forgiveness and pray for one's soul.  I never 
receive an answer though so I always assume the Lord's busy thinking
 about it.  I can leave if you like?"
	"No, that's not necessary, Waytorn," replied Harold.  He didn't
 trust the cutthroat anymore than anyone else, but he'd seen the Culprit's
 face and tear filled eyes.  "All men are welcome in the house of the 
Lord.  Even you."



		"Jaton, the city of Lights, Rivers and Romance," said 
Victoria, boarding the bateau.  She looked over the side and saw her
 reflection in the water.  "How do they manage not to flood all the 
sewers and wine cellars in this place?"
	"You missed the City of Wine," commented Wynic, sitting 
down across from the helmsman.  "The answer to your question is that
 the sewers are built on a level below the rivers and that the cellars are
 above the water table."
	"Wrong," spat the helmsman.  "For every island there is a 
separate sewer system that leads out of the city.  The rivers are kept
 at their constant depth because of dams and release pipes.  When it's 
too low we allow more water through the dams.  If it's too high we 
release water back into the main river.  The wine cellars are designed
 and built in the same fashion you would an ale keg."  The helmsman 
shook his head, jabbed his pole into the water and shoved the bateau
  into the middle of the river.
	"Well, Wynic," said Pothax.  "Where's this humble 'house' 
we've heard so much about?  It isn't in a sewer, is it?"
	Wynic shook his head.  "I sure hope not," came the reply.  
"You've been in the catacombs below Willium's palace before, haven't
 you?  Where they store past Kings?"
	Pothax nodded, just a bit surprised.  "A cave?  I thought you
 said house?"
	"I said a home.  It's more or less a cozy storage place for my 
belongings," explained Wynic.  "Helmsman, Raison Park."



		Wynic picked up a tree branch and tossed it aside.  
He looked at the hole and reached in to pull more branches aside.  
"Where's Bren when you need him?" he muttered.  "He could climb in 
there real easily and pull the branches out."
	Pothax shrugged.  "He's still at the banquet with Princess 
Darylinn.  Willium says that noble children can be pretty mean at times
 and that it makes him feel better if Bren's around to stick up for her 
when Willium isn't."
	"Mean?" asked Victoria.  "As in Lady Bardelias kind of mean?"
	"Yes, well, Bardelias did pop up in the conversation.  I don't 
like her or her type so I figured giving the range of what I've taught Bren
 that I was quite happy to let him stay with Willium's group."
	"You said 'range'.  How far can Bren throw with a dagger?" 
demanded Victoria. she crossed her arms.
	"Twelve to sixteen feet accurately.  I'm very proud of him," 
replied Pothax.  "He'll make a fine warrior one day."
	"And how about you, Wynic," said Victoria.  She placed her 
hands akimbo.  "What have you been teaching Bren?"
	Wynic smiled slowly, knowing Victoria disapproved. and 
wondered whether to lie or not.  No, Victoria would see right through
 a lie.  "Well," he began cautiously.  "I have been giving him some 
fencing lessons."  He frowned as he thought.  "How different is this 
from you giving Darylinn archery lessons?"
	"Ya?" demanded Pothax.
	Victoria frowned and thought about it.  "Aren't you done 
cleaning out the entrance yet?" she asked, changing the subject.
	"Sure.  Now what's the difference?"
	"Nothing."



		"Wynic," said Pothax.  If you keep the entrance 
covered, what's the point of having skeletons there to 'ward off 
unwanted visitors'?" he asked, jocking a thumb back at the entrance.
	Wynic shrugged.  "Double protection in case anyone fell 
through the branches, I suppose.  I do have a fair bit of wealth down
 here.  It'd be a shame to have killed all these people with nothing to
 show for it."
	Victoria shook her head in dismay and disgust.  "Are 
cutthroats always this cold blooded?" she asked with a shudder.  It 
sometimes amazed her that she had actually married Wynic.
	"Survival of the fittest," explained Pothax defensively.  "Imagine
 starving and knowing no way of finding food.  You'd be amazed what
 a person can do when they're starving."
	"That sounds like cannibalism," snorted Victoria.
	"Sorry.  I phrased that wrong."
	"Couldn't you beg for money?"
	"As I remember, there was a time when begging became too 
much and the government of Colnic enslaved a huge portion of the 
populous," remarked Wynic.  "Pothax knows too much about that.  
When you compare the two you'll find that more people would rather
 kill others for a living than be enslaved."
	"Uh, Wynic," said Pothax awkwardly.  "As lovely as the 
conversation is, I'd like some light in here."  He peered into the 
shadows and glanced back at the entrance where moonlight was 
coming through the branches covering the entrance.  "I'd really hate 
to knock myself senseless on a stalactite or something."
	Wynic nodded in understanding.  He walked over to a shadowy
 corner and fished around for a torch.  He came up with a burnt out 
torch.  "This won't work," he said, looking hopefully at Pothax.  "I'll 
need the Ambrosia you tucked into your belt to get it started."
	Pothax grumbled and took out a small copper bottle.  He 
doused the torch lightly as Wynic held it and lit it with some flint and 
steel.  Once the flame was shedding enough light to see, Pothax corked
 the bottle and shoved it back in his belt.  He crossed his arms impatiently.
	Wynic led the way into the cave.  "It doesn't have any stalactites
 or anything like that.  It's barely a big crevice in the ground," he 
explained.  He tossed the torch into a corner.
	A pillar of fire rumbled up in the corner, choking the hole 
bored in the ceiling.  Victoria smelled naphtha, an oil commonly used 
in the army as a weapon for catapults.  Throwing burning naphtha at 
the enemy tends to slow them down a bit and burn them.
	The crevice was slanted and in the shape of a domed oval.  
The ceiling was barely seven feet high, but the floor...  Pothax hurled 
himself onto the floor and rolled around in the hoard of coins, valuable
 gems and the occasional antique pot or weapon.  He howled with joy.
	Wynic smiled.  He walked over to a chest and lifted the latch.
 He looked the other way, prepared for the stench of rotted food 
inside.  Taking a deep breath, he began tossing rotten food into the 
blaze nearby.  He set the wine and brandy bottles aside though.
	Victoria sat down beside the assassin and smiled at him.  "I
 find it hard to see why you needed such a large hoard," she said, 
picking up a silver goblet.  She stared at her reflection and the firelight
 dancing off the beautiful metal.
	"A stupid cutthroat doesn't live long.  This hoard was for my
 retirement," the assassin explained.  "I can easily retire now, but the 
way I look at it is I'm already partially retired.  It's not my fault the 
government keeps hiring me to assassinate people."  He tossed a rotten
 loaf of bread into the blaze, and foraged around for more in the oak chest.
	"So now that you're rich, what are you going to do with it?"
	"Spend it of course," spat Pothax.  He held up a small fortune
 in gems and admired their brilliance in the firelight.  "Clothes, weapons,
 horses, that sort of thing!"



		Vincenz von Ponde reached over and yanked on one
 of Princess Darylinn's blonde curls.  He grinned and turned away. 
Three seconds later he went sprawling backwards five feet and landed
 in the indoor fountain with a splash.
	Nebonex looked up and glanced at Gith.  The old man nodded
 and reached for his cane, a recent affection that he'd taken on.  "The 
boy pulled Darylinn's hair.  Something's never change.  It seems Willium
 was right in asking Bren to accompany the girl," he explained to the 
huge minotaur.
	Lord Ponde pushed through the already gathered crowd of 
gossiping people and grabbed Bren by the collar.  He lifted the 
struggling boy off the marble floor and held him at arms length.  He 
raised a gauntleted fist to hit the boy.
	Inside, Bren began to panic.  Swift painful memories of his real 
father beating him came back and tore at his soul with barbed daggers. 
 The boy couldn't fight back and Pothax wasn't here to save him.  Not
 this time.
	Sir Glac, Queen Helen's Royal Champion punched the Lord 
Ponde in the chin with a mailed fist.  Ponde dropped Bren and the 
champion's quick reflexes reacted in time to catch the boy.  He set 
him down and turned to face a red-faced Lord Ponde.  
	The two Stornium knights faced each other threatening.  Bren
 looked up at Lord Ponde and later swore to Darylinn that he'd seen 
fire dancing in the knight's eyes.  He backed away from the two knights.
	Nebonex got up from the from the table and walked towards
 the two knights.  General Gisoni and Lord Redhawk fell in line behind
 the Prince.  Larry smiled and disappeared into the watching crowd.
	"You be careful how you handle that boy, Lord Ponde," spat
 Glac.  He swallowed.  Lord Ponde was perhaps the only other knight
 that could beat him in a duel.
	"What is he to you?  You probably don't even know the brat's 
name!" argued Ponde, pushing Sir Glac, but to no effect.
	Nebonex laid a huge menacing hand on Lord Ponde's shoulder.
  He looked down at the knight to meet his stare.  "I too would be 
careful around the boy."  The Prince looked behind him.  "Lord 
Redhawk, General Gisoni, Lord Jacog and Lord Blackaxe all seem 
to agree with me.  It doesn't seem a wise thing to hit the Owl's son."
	"Who?" snarled Ponde, pretending not to know the nick-
name of Pothax.
	"Pothax Doxon," replied Lord Blackaxe.  "Wynic Doxon's 
elder brother.  That would make the boy his nephew, wouldn't it?"
	Lord Ponde paled visibly.  He hadn't known Pothax was a 
Doxon.  He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it abruptly 
because he didn't know what to say.  He looked down at Bren and 
back up at the towering, seven foot minotaur.
	Gith grinned.  He looked around to see if anyone else had 
noticed Larry's handiwork.  He wondered if Lord Ponde would take 
a step back and-
	Ponde took a step backwards and stepped on a wine bottle.
  The bottle rolled forwards suddenly under the knight's foot and he 
lurched backwards into the fountain.  He cried out in surprise and 
received a mouthful of water.  He flailed around wildly, but to no avail.
	What Gith didn't notice was that Lord Ponde was missing his
 dagger, money pouch and the pin from his swordbelt.  When the 
knight finally crawled out of the fountain, his swordbelt fell off and the
 hilt of his sword hit his foot.  He later noticed the loss of his money 
pouch and dagger, and spent the rest of the night looking for them in 
the fountain, assuming, of course, that he had dropped them in there.
  It never once crossed his mind that Bren might be a very skilled pick
-pocket.  Even if he had, he wouldn't have done anything about it.



		"That's it," cried Dillard.  The knight turned to Captain
 Adrienne.  "We're turning around and heading to Jaton.  Rades isn't 
stupid; if he's anywhere at all he'll be there!  Even on foot, he'd have
 reached there by now!"
	Adrienne frowned, but she gave the order to head for Jaton.  
"Are you sure he's all right?" she asked, turning the cougar-sled
 around in the powdery snow.
	"Yes.  He's probably there right now wondering what's taking
 me so long.  That means I'm late.  Do you know any shortcuts?"
	Adrienne nodded in reply.



		"I'd love to teach them, Redhawk," replied Victoria 
coolly.  "But Wynic, Pothax and I were planning on a tour of Jaton.  
You know the place better than Wynic, why don't you show us around?"
	Redhawk frowned and turned to Derick.  "Take the Elites to
 Dame Larel and tell her to give them a crossbow lesson.  I'll go with
 Victoria and Wynic," he ordered, his frown widening into a smile.
	Derick nodded.  "But first, may I speak to Victoria alone?"
	Redhawk shrugged and wandered across the palace courtyard 
to speak with Wynic.  As soon as he was out of earshot, Derick turned
 to Victoria.  "How do you feel?"
	Victoria looked in Wynic's direction at the other side of the 
soldier's barracks.  "Aside from the occasional nausea and morning 
sickness, I'm fine.  I'm not very happy about being, in a way, hungover
 every morning."
	Derick nodded in understanding.  "Drinking wine is good, but 
only in very small dosages.  Did your parents ever give you small sips
 when you were a child?  Try to keep it at that."  He studied her face 
for a moment.  "Try to eat more too.  Don't worry about getting fat, 
you'll be losing about seven or eight pounds in about five months.  The 
extra food will make the baby healthier and the delivery will be less 
painful."
	Victoria blushed and ran a hand through her brown hair.  "I'd
 better go," she said, pointing at Mathex at Mathex running up to talk 
to Derick.  "Looks like he need to discuss something with you."  She 
turned and waved good-bye.
	"Derick," cried Mathex, puffing up.  "I've found a possible 
solution to Redhawk's excessive drinking.  Drop one of these tablets 
in his wine before he drinks it," he explained, handing the squire a glass
 bottle with small white pills in it.
	Derick looked at the pills dubiously.  "What will they do to him?
  They aren't toxic are they?"
	"No, not at all.  They'll just put him to sleep.  The main 
ingredient is sodium which is found in salt so there's nothing to worry 
about.  Besides I already tested it on Princess Nicole last night and
 she's fine this morning."
	Derick nodded.  "Not even nausea?"
	"Just a little bit.  I talked to another doctor and he was so
 impressed that he made a batch of pills with the recipe and slipped it 
into her Ambrosia without telling me.  I wasn't sure about the ingredients,
 but he told me not to worry since there is no toxins in it."
	Derick studied the pills and tucked them in his breast pocket.

Chapter Six
		"I'm sorry," said the servant, "but Dame Larel is 
unavailable today.  She isn't feeling well."  The servant slammed the 
door in Derick's face.
	"Well," said Derick, glancing at Carlo and the others.  "Looks 
like you four are going to get some instruction in medical science.  What
 do you think of that?"
	"I feel sick," muttered Eluth, but he quickly took it back when 
he saw the interested look on Derick's face.  He didn't want to be a 
patient.



		Rades peered into the snow covered distance and saw
 a building.  It was too big to be a castle and too small to be Jaton. 
Nevertheless, he trudged up to the steel gates.  As he walked the last 
of his energy seemed to leak out of his frozen boots and into the ice 
and snow.  Blasted ice, thought Rades.  Even the building looks like it
 was made of this accursed ice.  He fell forward into the powdery 
snow five feet from the gate, barely noticing the guards gathering around
 him.  I want to die...
	Captain Slor saw the lieutenant first and wondered if it was a
 small, lost bear or something so covered it was with snow and ice.  
The figure collapsed and he rushed out hurriedly to the man, hoping it
 was a messenger from Jaton.  With help from his lieutenant they hauled
 the half dead, half frozen man into the fort.
	Fort Phal.



		Rades dreams were dreams of sunny, warm days back
 in Castle Deltex.  The sky over Bone Sea was a rich sapphire and the 
sea itself an emerald shade of azure.  The sand soaked up the heat and
 his bare feet burned at the touch of the sand.
	Susanna.  He saw her then.  Oh, how much Rades missed
 Susanna.  But she was dead.  Everyone in Deltex was.  Rades tried to
 cry out to warn her.   She only smiled and kissed him soothingly on the
 forehead.  But Rades didn't remember that!
	The lieutenant awoke with a start, reaching for his sword.  His 
muscles didn't respond to his mental command though.  Nevertheless, 
he did give the young nurse quite a shock when he screamed in her face.
	The nurse leapt back with a small cry.  She was really quite 
beautiful, thought Rades and he figured he should have considered it a 
compliment to have been given a kiss.  "You kissed!" he blurted out 
hoarsely.
	Two knights rushed into the room, swords drawn and ready. 
They looked from the nurse to Rades and back to the nurse.  "Well, 
Hell!" said one of the knights, sheathing his sword.  "I'd be asking for 
seconds and thirds!"
	Rades nodded sheepishly.  "Sorry Frau.  I'm not used to being
 kissed by strangers.  Where am I?"
	"In the infirmary," replied the nurse.
	"Not that!  What Castle?  I've got to get to Jaton!"
	The knights looked at each other and then at the nurse.  "Didn't
 you just come from Jaton?" asked the shorter of the two knights.
	Rades stared at the ceiling.  If he didn't know better, he'd swear
 it was made of ice slabs cross by wood beams to hold them up.  The
 knight repeated the question and Rades craned his head to look past
 the knight at the doorway and wall.  Wood door frame, but ice wall. 
 "Where am I?" he demanded with so much force the bed shook 
beneath him
	"Fort Phal," came the meek reply.
	Slowly, ever so slowly, Rades began to comprehend what had 
occurred.  Dillard's shortcut had been more effective than he had 
thought.  Where they had separated Jaton was just to the east, but 
Rades had went north instead of east and ended up in the Ice Lands.
  He hadn't known or even guessed that Fort Phal was built mainly of 
ice.
	"I better go tell the doctor he's awake," murmured the nurse,
 excusing herself.
	Slowly as Rades lay there pondering the numbness of sleep
 ebbed away and was replaced by pain.  Fiery and excruciated pain 
that seemed to streak throughout his body in jolts of spasms everytime
 he so much as blinked.  It wasn't long before he passed out from the 
pain.
	Captain Slor looked from Colonel Patrice to the Stornium.  
Pat didn't look very pleased and Slor remembered clearly the look 
on her face when she heard of Prince Roger's death.  He wondered 
what she planned to do.  Abandon Fort Phal?
	The Stornium opened his eyes.  He gritted his teeth and slowly 
turned his head to see the rest of the Colonel.  "I feel like shit that's
 been trampled under a stampede of minotaurs," he croaked, trying 
desperately to sound funny.
	"Colonel pat," saluted the woman.  "Why are you here 
Lieutenant?  Are you a messenger from Jaton or not?"
	"I'm dying.  What's it look like?" squeaked the Stornium.  
"Doesn't it make a bit of sense that they'd send a Kinian as messenger 
instead of a Stornium?  A lost Stornium?"
	Pat opened her mouth to reply, but Slor held up a hand. 
 "What's your name Stornium?  Your station?"
	Lieutenant Rades of the Royal Stornium Army.  Recently 
stationed at the Stornium Embassy in Athex.  I've been sent to Jaton 
as a...  Well, that's where I get confused in politics.  The matter of war
 hasn't been discussed yet."
	"War!  With who?  Kinian?" demanded Pat, gripping her 
sword hilt.
	"No!  No, the Ice Folk!"
	Pat stopped and paled.  "Why?" she barely whispered.
	"Because they killed Prince Roger."
	"Our reports say that warriors and poachers belonging to the 
late Kobalix killed him," she snorted in reply.
	"God in Heaven," moaned Rades in old Stornium.  "Not 
politics!  Not now!  I'm busy dying here and along comes more politics!"
	"What's he babbling about," Pat demanded.  Slor shrugged
 helplessly.  "Explain yourself Lieutenant!" she ordered.
	Rades groaned and took a deep breath.  "The people in Jaton 
think that the Ice Folk killed Prince Roger in a skirmish.  There have 
been dozens of skirmishes in the past month and it could be happening
 in the Minotaur Empire as well for all I know," he explained.  "If we 
could send a message to Jaton saying not to attack the Ice Folk we
 could prevent a major war."
	"Indeed," muttered Pat.  "We'd be slaughtered.  The Ice Lands
 are far too defensive and an offensive war would be impossible.  Slor," 
she said to the Captain.  "You're the historian around here.  What 
happened the last time anyone had a war against the Ice Folk?"
	"Trench and tunnel warfare," replied Slor.  "The defensive 
became too superior in comparison with offensive tactics.  The catapults
 were more than effective against trench and tunnel movements, but 
there is a lack of ammunition for such weapons up here.  Rolling snow 
boulders takes too long and isn't as heavy anyway."
	"So what do we do?" groaned Rades.
	"You stay in bed," snorted Pat.  "I send a message to castle 
Blueflame to the south.  I'm surprised you didn't see it when you were 
wandering around in the mountains."
	"Ah, could you see that the message includes something about
 me.  There's probably a search party looking for me," Rades requested.
 The nurse entered with a dinner tray.  "Though I'm in very good care,
 I'd hate for my friends to worry," he said, smiling at the pretty nurse.



		"You sure know how to make a sick boy feel better 
real quick," commented Rades, removing his lips from Kristine's.  He 
looked up at the pretty nurse.  "You don't do this to all the patients do 
you?"
	Kristine shook her head and kissed Rades' forehead soothingly. 
"Your the first cute patient that I've had.  So, Rades, tell me more
 about yourself?  Besides what you told the Colonel."
	Rades raised an eyebrow and pain shot throughout his body. 
He winced which brought more pain.  "You eavesdropped?"
	"Sure.  It's not everyday a Stornium collapses at the front gate,
 let alone a cute, young Stornium," Kristine explained.  "Now fee up?"
	"What do you want to hear?"
	"Anything.  How about Athex?  You know a fair bit about 
Athex.  Or how about Kobalix's Quest?  You were in it weren't you?"
	"I was one of the few sent to Kobalix's Citadel to destroy the 
mines."
	"Don't boast!  I don't like men who boast, even if they are cute!"
	"I'm not boasting," protested Rades.  "I'll even name all the 
people who went.  There was Wynic Doxon, Lord Joachum Blackaxe, 
Sir Dillard, Pothax Doxon, Lord Redhawk's squire Derick, Victoria 
Felangalis, King Waytorn, General Sardias, Commodore Carlo, 
Brigadier Roreed and Colonel Eluth, plus me.  King Waytorn brought 
along twenty of his finest men.  In total there was thirty-two of us."
	"So you're a hero?"
	"Not likely.  Lord Blackaxe and Wynic Doxon seemed to do 
most of the work.  You can't do much when compared to the best of
 the best!"
	"Where was Lord Redhawk?"
	"He was injured during the Siege of Athex.  So he stayed 
behind.  It was sort of funny seeing him and Wynic later on.  Doxon 
with his chest bandaged up from breaking a few ribs and Redhawk 
with his shoulder in a cast and being moved around in a wheelchair 
because he was too weak to stand up."
	"I'm learning more about Kobalix's Quest than about you," 
murmured Kristine.  "Tell me about Stornium?  The plateaus?"
	"They're nothing compared to the Kinian Mountains.  I rarely
 traveled at all so the most I could tell you about is Deltex, but that's 
gone..."   Rades trailed off abruptly and stared at the ice ceiling.  "How
 about you tell me about Fort Phal," he suggested, changing the subject.
	"You'd have to see it to believe it."



		Pothax glanced back at the crowded street.  He could 
sense someone following them, but he wasn't sure what to do about it.
 "Wynic," he whispered to his brother.
	"You noticed it too?" asked the assassin.  Victoria raised an 
eyebrow.  "What are you two whispering about she demanded.
	"We're being followed," explained Pothax.
	"Hah!  You two are paranoid!  Take a look at these two, 
Redhawk!  They jump at a kitten's shadow half the time!" laughed 
Victoria.
	Redhawk nodded but frowned.  "I have the feeling too Victoria.
 Sort of a nagging, get ready to duck kind of feeling."
	"Okay, okay," spat Victoria, crossing her arms.  "If it makes 
you feel better we'll send Pothax up to the rooftops to scout things out
 while we shop."  Her eyes caught sight of a beautifully woven tunic 
and she hurried over to barter with the vendor.
	"She isn't taking us seriously," noted Pothax.
	"No problem.  Wynic and I will watch over her," said Redhawk. 
 "You start looking for anyone that could be following us."
	Pothax gave the knight a mock salute and marched away stiffly. 
 He grinned and scaled the side of a cabinet shop.  If anyone was 
following them, he'd spot them from up here.
	What Pothax hadn't expected was the someone was crouched 
on the roof of the shop.  Nor did he expect to kicked in the chest and 
hurled across the roof top by the someone in a foot-throw.  Dazed, the 
Doxon looked up at a darkly clothed adversary just in time to roll away
 from a punch.
	The attacker's fist hit the icy roof with a thud accompanied by a
 curse.
	The cutthroat came to a crouch.  He noted the attacker's lack
 of weapons and tackled him.  The two rolled and slid across the roof,
 coming dangerously close to falling over the edge.
	Pothax's adversary kicked the cutthroat in the stomach.  Pothax
 clutched his stomach and groaned.  His adversary rolled away and 
jumped to another roof.
	Shaking away the pain, the cutthroat scrambled to his feet on 
the icy roof and dove after his adversary.  Catching the attacker's hood,
 Pothax yanked at it to pull him closer as he wrapped an arm around his
 adversary's waist.
	The hood fell free.  Shoulder length brown hair and brown doe 
eyes.  Pouty lips and a fair complexion.  Pothax shook his head and 
stared at the Princess.  Whether it was Kelly or Kerry, he couldn't be
 sure, they were totally identical.  Except Kerry was a fan of Wynic's.
	The Princess slapped the cutthroat across the face.  She tried 
to break and wiggle free of Pothax's grip.
	"What are you doing here?" Pothax demanded.
	She bit her lip and looked at him in frustration.  "I'm a fan of 
yours," she said, crossing her arms across her breasts.
	"I wish, but you've got me mixed up with my brother.  He's 
the red-haired one."
	"But he's not wearing black like an assassin!"  She pointed at 
Pothax's black riding leathers.
	"Whoever said assassins dress a certain way?" asked Pothax,
 not relaxing his grip around the Princess's waist for one of two 
reasons.  It wasn't because she attacked him.
	The Princess bit her lip and tried to look cheerful.  "Could 
you introduce me then?"
	"We haven't been even introduced.  I don't know if I'd want
 to introduce you if you plan on attacking him either."
	The Princess smiled hopefully.  "I'm Kerry.  Who are you?"
	"The Owl," replied Pothax.  "Otherwise known as Pothax 
Doxon, veteran cutthroat, spy and now, assassin."
	"So you're Wynic's partner?"
	"Sort of.  I'm the lesser known one."
	"Wait a minute," cried Kerry.  "You're the father of that boy 
who punched Vincenz von Ponde!"
	Pothax stared at the Princess.  "What are you talking about?
  What fight?"
	Kerry explained the incident with Bren and Lord Ponde.  
Pothax listened thoughtfully and a grin slowly crossed his features.
 "Was Lord Ponde missing anything afterwards?"
	"Well, yes-"
	Pothax started to laugh.  He laughed so hard he swore he'd 
burst a lung, if not both.  "He-" he tried to explain his laughter, but 
couldn't seem to get it through his lips.  He bit his tongue until he got 
his laughter under control.  "Bren robbed him," he blurted and burst 
into hysterics, letting go of the Princess and pounding the ice roof 
with his fists.
	Kerry sat there in puzzlement.  "Robbed who?  Lord Ponde?" 
 Pothax nodded and laughed.  "Pick-pocketed him?  What kind of 
father are you?" she asked incredulously.  "How come you don't know
 about this?"
	Pothax managed to sit up.  "Bren's staying with King Willium's 
party at the palace.  He's been given the task of protecting and playing 
with Princess Darylinn.  Sort of her Royal Champion.  That's why I 
haven't heard of the incident.  It's a wonder Redhawk didn't tell me 
about it!"
	"Protecting?"
	"Have you ever been teased and ridiculed by other nobles?"
	"Well, yes-"
	"They can be really mean at times and will try to get away with
 all sorts of things.  Spoiled brats if you ask me.  Just like Queen 
Elexenia,  spoiled to the point of no return.  Anyway Bren is a great 
fighter and with Wynic and I training him, he'll become a great warrior
 someday, so King Willium asked if Bren would mind looking out for
 Darylinn."
	"So when Vincenz pulled Darylinn's hair, Bren was pretty much
 under orders to punch Vincenz?"
	"Exactly."
	"You know Monsieur Doxon," said Kerry.  "You're pretty 
interesting.  I'll bet you could tell me some stories!"
	Hook, line and sinker, Pothax swallowed the bait and launched 
into a story.  it took him awhile before he realized what she had done. 
He didn't care though, he liked the attention.



		"Psst," hissed Brenda.  "Carlo!  How do we get out
 of here?"
	Carlo glanced in Derick's direction to check if the squire was 
still writing on the slate-board.  He was.  "I haven't a clue, but please 
think of something fast!  This lesson is boring me to death!" he hissed
 to Brenda.
	"How about we try what we did in the Test?" suggested Roreed.
 "Eluth provides a distraction and the rest of us high tail it out of here!" 
he whispered.
	"Sounds great," whispered Eluth.  "But that means I have to
 stay here with him."
	"No problem.  As soon as he sees us gone, he'll give chase 
and forget about you," Brenda hissed.  "Now go ask him a question!"
	Eluth nodded and stood up.  He looked across the soldier's 
barracks to the slate-board usually used for duties, notices or even 
battle strategies.  "What should I ask?"
	"Anything!  Complain about heartburn and ask what causes it!
 Something like that!" whispered Carlo, edging his way towards the gates.
	Eluth nodded  and walked up to Derick turned to face him so 
that he wouldn't turn around and notice Carlo sneaking out the gate. 
 "Derick," he said politely.  "Uh, I was just wondering , you see, I have 
these cramps in my stomach and I was wondering what caused them.  
Did I eat some bad food or something?"
	Derick launched into an explanation of which Eluth didn't have 
a clue what the squire was talking about.  He looked over Derick's
 shoulder and saw Brenda make a break for it.  "Do you understand?" 
Derick asked him.
	"Well, no.  You kind of lost me at the last part.  Could you
 start over again and maybe do a diagram on the board."
	Derick sighed and started over again, this time slower and 
doing a diagram on the slate-board.  Eluth didn't pay any attention.  
He just nodded and watched Roreed run out the gate where Carlo
 was waiting with the knight's horse.  "Uh, I think I know what's 
causing the cramps," interrupted Eluth, heading for his pack.  "I'm 
hungry."
	Derick smiled and turned around.  "Hey!  Where'd everybody
 go?" the squire cried.  "You stay here!  I'll go find those cretins!"
	Eluth gave a shrug of indifference and sat down to eat.  It 
wasn't long before he too left to explore Jaton.



		Vincenz von Ponde was a very vindictive boy.  One
 might wonder why Lord Ponde brought his mischievous son with 
him to Jaton, but he wasn't the only one to bring his family along.  The 
boy had found a friend in a visiting noble family from northern Arthian.
	Lady Bardelias, having found what she considered the ultimate
 weapon against Rades, had journeyed to Jaton to gossip with her 
friends at the court there.  Her son, though some might wonder about
 who the boy's father really was, accompanied her.  He too had a bone
 to pick with Bren.
	Torr Bardeliasson crouched beside Vincenz and pointed at 
Darylinn.  The girl was riding her pony, Snakey, named after a dead pet.
  Torr remembered how the pet was killed too.  His mother had found
 the snake in her bed one night and the poor snake was later crushed 
under her current lover's boots.
	Bren stood nearby practicing knife throwing at a target nailed
 to a tree fifteen feet away.  Neither Torr or Vincenz wanted to attack 
now though neither of them would admit it to the other that Bren was
 very good at throwing.  The two boys waited until Bren had ran out 
of daggers before realizing their opportunity.
	Bren looked up in surprise and saw the stone just in time to 
duck.  The next stone fell short and he paid it no heed.  He did however
 notice the tow boys rushing at him with wooden swords in bare hands.
	Darylinn cried out a warning and shouted for Bren to run.  The
 pick-pocket could probably run circles around these two, but didn't
 want to do that.  He waited until the two boys were almost on top of 
him when he turned and ran towards the tree.  Not for his daggers, not
 to climb it.  He needed his father's shortsword which Pothax had left 
leaning up against the far side of the tree just after nailing the target on
 the tree before the banquet last night.
	The two boys followed, waving their swords wildly and 
shouting threats.  they backed off quickly however when Bren scooped
 up Pothax's shortsword.
	"Tut, tut, tut," muttered Nebonex.  "You boys should know 
better," he said, scooping Torr and Vincenz up in his arms.  "Bren could
 easily take you on with only a wooden sword, but a metal one?  Ha!  
You'd be as good as dead!" said the huge Prince, baring his sharp teeth 
at the boys and placing them up on a limb in the tree.
	"I don't know Nebonex," said Gith, coming over and setting 
down his paint brushes and leaning on his cane.  "These two look like 
they're afraid of heights.  Maybe you should let them down?"
	"Nah!  I think Lord Ponde should do that.  That way he can 
discuss this matter with Pothax."
	"Ah, that should solve this little grudge of theirs.  Just hope it
 doesn't escalate!"



		"What are those two doing up there?" laughed 
Redhawk.  He pointed at the two boys huddled up in the tree.  "Any 
reason why we shouldn't take them down?"  The boys started to cry 
again.  They begged for Redhawk to help them down.  Vincenz went 
so far as to threaten Redhawk, though unsuccessfully.
	"I don't know," pondered Nebonex, looking at the two boys. 
 "I suppose it's sort of cruel to leave them there, but then again it's only
 a ten foot drop.  I don't see why they're afraid of it."
	"Jees," spat Wynic.  "Redhawk's afraid of heights, but ten feet? 
 They're pathetic!"
	"Tell that to Lord Ponde," muttered Nebonex, pointing at the 
approaching knight.
	"Get them down from there this instant!" shouted Lord Ponde.
 "Or, I'll-"  The knight caught sight of Wynic and his voice trailed away.  
"Get them down now!"
	"Why should we?" asked Victoria innocently.  "They climbed 
up there.  Why can't they climb down?" she lied.
	"I said now!" the knight boomed angrily.  Three fellow 
Stornium knights ran over to watch.
	"Well," said Victoria testily.  "Why don't you do it yourself?"
	"Cause you put them up there!"
	"Who?  Us?" asked Victoria.  "Why would we do that?  Pray
 tell us?"
	"Don't talk back to me, bitch!  Get my-"  The knight stopped 
when Wynic picked one of Bren's daggers off the ground.  "You 
wouldn't dare?"
	"Take that back, Ponde," said Wynic.  A faint growling sound 
came from his chest.  Redhawk and Victoria recognized it as Wynic's 
war-cry.
	"Why should he?" demanded one of the Stornium knights.  
"Everybody knows it's true!"  The knight received a blow to the back
 and landed on the ground at Victoria's boots.
	"Both of you are going to take that back," said Sir Dillard,
 spitting on the knight.  His sword was drawn and lay across Ponde's 
shoulder's; the blade just nicking the back of his neck.  "I'm not in a 
good mood today.  Must've got up on the wrong side of the bed."
	"You dare to threaten me, Sir Knight," said Ponde, forcing 
the fear from his voice and replacing it with rage.  "You'll find that I'm 
a better swordsman than you think."
	"Perhaps you are, but I doubt you get the chance to prove it 
unless you take what you said back.  As I said, I'm not in a good 
mood today."
	"And if I challenge you to a duel?"
	"Then I am honour bound to accept."
	A second blade became nestled under Ponde's chin.  "But that
 won't happen," said Larry.  "I happen to like Victoria," the short, 
cutthroat explained,  "and I'd really hate for someone to spread rumours
 about her honour.  Don't you agree?"
	"What's going on here?" demanded Pothax, riding up behind 
Princess Kerry on her black stallion.  He dismounted and smiled up at 
Kerry.  "Did someone call a meeting without me?"
	"No," said Wynic, tossing the dagger in his hand at Pothax.  It 
whirled end over end past Lord Ponde's nose.  Pothax caught the blade
 between two fingers and began juggling it and three others for Kerry's 
benefit.
	Lord Ponde paled, but he proudly pretended not to notice.  
Instead he reached around and clamped a gauntleted fist around Larry's
 neck.  In one swift move he whirled around and slammed the cutthroat
 into Dillard's armoured torso, knocking the knight to the ground.
	The knight at Victoria's feet leapt forward, hauling her to the 
ground.  Fighting desperately, knowing that if she received a blow to the
 abdomen that she could have a miscarriage.   She kicked the knight in 
the groin and scrambled away.  She drew her sword and held it 
defensively.



		"Hey, a brawl!" shouted one of the palace guards.  The
 guards cheered and ran across the palace grounds towards the huge 
apple orchard which was the center of the fight.
	Savin looked up from his comfortable seat under the balcony 
in the shade.  "A fine wintry day for a brawl, don't you think, Willium?"
	"I'll go get my mittens," laughed the King.



		Lady Bardelias looked up at the sound of clashing steel.
  "Jeffrew," she yelled to her bodyguard.  "Take some men and put a 
stop to that racket, I'm trying to tell a story to Lady Ponde and I can't
 think with all that noise!"  The massive bodyguard saluted and ran off
 to join the fight.  "Jees, what are they doing anyway?  Having a pot 
banging contest?"



		"King Sear," shouted a palace guard.  "There's a fight 
out in the apple orchard!"
	"So?  Put a stop to it!"
	"Yes Sire!" said the guard sounding almost joyous.
	Waytorn stared after the guard, a bit puzzled.  Silently he got
 up and followed.  Something was amiss here.  Taking one look at the
 battle taking place in the apple orchard, Waytorn decided it would 
take a lot more than the palace guard to put a stop to the growing 
battle.  So he found a middle-aged groundskeeper.  Now he had all 
he would need for the moment.
	Through his outward appearance was common place, this 
man was a top agent of Waytorn's.  He too had been trained in the 
art of killing, much like Dame Brenda.  He gave the agent the orders
 to slow the battle down until Waytorn could contact an army to put 
a stop to the battle.



		The biggest army in Jaton currently was the Black 
Stornium Army belonging to Lord Blackaxe.  With the superior speed 
of travel in the underworld the message reached Lord Blackaxe in only 
a few minutes.  It was five minutes later that the army marched onto
 the palace grounds and the battle was called to a stop.
	Blackaxe crossed his arms and shook his head in frustration. 
 "There will be an immediate meeting with all those who know what
 caused this incident."
	For some strange reason nobody remembered to take Torr 
and Vincenz down from the tree.  Most people assumed the boys were
 up there so they could watch the fight.  Others forgot about them. 
 Still others, like Nebonex, didn't want to take them down.  So they 
stayed up there until a groundskeeper noticed their crying and took
 them down.



		The soldier's barracks were jammed full of people 
wanting to hear what had caused the initial fight.  Few were there 
because they had to be there and resented being shoved aside.  Eluth 
grudgingly sat back and listened though.  "Perhaps we should have 
used a different place," Waytorn muttered to Blackaxe, judging the
 crowd.
	"Nah, this will do," the Lord said, holding the Swathick Axe 
threatening in line with the crowd.  "All those involved with the initial 
fight get in a line."  He waited patiently and pointed at the woman at 
the front of the line.  "What happened?"
	"If you remember the incident last night with Lord Ponde and
 Pothax's son Bren," replied a slightly disheveled looking Princess 
Kerry.  "That's where it started originally I believe."
	Blackaxe nodded and explained the incident to Waytorn.  
"Lord Ponde, if this is true, you're very lucky that no one was killed 
on seriously injured.  Even so you may be facing exile.  Please tell me
 this didn't escalate from a simple child's prank to a full scale battle?"
	Lord Ponde stepped forward.  "I am not in fault, Lord 
Blackaxe.  The Doxons should be the ones facing exile!"
	"Perhaps but the matter depends on who threw the first punch
 in this battle of yours."  Lord Ponde suddenly paled and Blackaxe 
knew the truth without asking.  "And your son started this whole 
incident while your pride kept it going.  I've heard all I need to hear.
  Waytorn?"
	"Neither of us have authority here, Lord Blackaxe.  Lord 
Ponde is not one of my members and we are in King Sear's jurisdiction. 
We'll have to let him decide."  The King of Cutthroats turned to the 
short man behind Lord Ponde.  "Larry arrest him and any others you 
feel caused this childish incident."  Waytorn grinned.  "And turn them 
over to the proper authorities."
	Larry grinned and Victoria wondered what would become of
 Lord Ponde.  She had the distinct feeling that Lord Ponde would not
 be seen again in court.  Ponde didn't suspect a thing as he was hauled
 away, but Victoria knew that in the deadly justice of the underworld 
he was as good as dead.  Nobody would dispute the matter with 
Waytorn.  No one would dare.

Chapter Seven
		"Pothax!" cried Princess Kerry on the way back to 
the palace, halting her stallion and turning in the saddle to face the 
cutthroat.  She dropped the reins and crossed her arms across her 
breasts.  "What's going to happen to Lord Ponde?" she demanded.
	The cutthroat smiled weakly.  "Larry will kill him of course.
 That is the way of the crime world.  Don't be surprised if Ponde's 
already dead, his money pouch in Larry's pocket and his armour in
 a pawn shop," replied Pothax.  "He may eventually reach King Sear, 
but Waytorn never said he'd be alive."
	Kerry shuddered and picked up the reins.  "My father will
 charge Larry with murder," she said absently.
	"But he can't prove it and wouldn't do so anyway if he expects
 Waytorn to aid him against the Ice Folk.  Have they set a time for a 
military meeting yet?  I made a wager of when it would be."
	Kerry shook her head and kicked the stallion lightly in the 
flanks.  "I'm guessing it will be in two days from now or even longer." 
 Pothax cursed.  "What was the wager?" she asked, a bit intrigued.
	"I bet the meeting would be today, Redhawk bet tomorrow.
 The wager was that the loser would have to do something embarrassing
 like wearing their clothes backwards to the military meeting or 
something like that.  If the meeting is two days from now we both will
 have to do it!"
	Kerry smiled and shook her head.  "Where are we going 
anyway?"
	"The palace," replied Pothax.  "Wynic's called an impromptu
 meeting.  Not a military meeting, but at least we're getting organized
 so we at least know what we're doing."



		Victoria scanned the dining room and counted heads.
 Sir Dillard, Pothax, Wynic, Bren, King Willium, Gisoni, Gith, 
Nebonex, Darylinn, Mathex, Gisoni's lieutenant Pollex, Savin, 
Redhawk, Queen Helen, Blackaxe, Waytorn, Eluth, Carlo, Roreed,
 Brenda, an angry looking Derick, Sir Glac, General Chek, Lord 
Jacog and Queen Elexenia.  The members of the Kinian Royal Family
 present were Princesses Kelly and Kerry, and Prince Boyce.  
Victoria drew her longsword and rapped the hilt on the table for 
order.
	All heads turned Victoria's way and the room abruptly quieted.
  She blushed under so many stares and cleared her throat.  "If I may
 call upon Prince Boyce to describe what he knows about the 
skirmishes with the Ice Folk we can begin."
	Prince Boyce pushed his chair away from the table and stood.
  He was tall, lanky with sharp eyes and a disarming smile.  "As some
 of you may know, I make frequent travels into the mountains and the
 Ice Lands.  During my travels I have met many of the Folk and I 
must admit that I find it hard to believe that they'd attack a merchant
 caravan.  They are a peaceful, sometimes timid folk, despite the fact
 that they are great warriors, all of them.  The unversed person might
 think them barbarians and savages, but in truth they hold life, even
 the lives of animals, sacred above all else.  That is why they have 
become so outraged by the poaching.  I have spoken to several of
 the Folk concerning the skirmishes with the merchant caravans and 
the reply was either that they were trying to find out where the 
merchants bought the furs they were carrying or were forced to do
 so because of lack of food due to decreased animals to hunt.  I find
 the latter disturbing because the Ice Folk have been allied for 
countless centuries and I have many friends among the Ice Folk."
	"You'd be surprised what a person can do when they're 
starving," commented Pothax.
	Victoria blinked.  She looked at the cutthroat and saw he 
was serious.  A new understanding formed in her mind.  Life was 
more or less about survival.  Whether you stole or even killed for
 food there was not such a huge difference between it and a hunter
 shooting a stag for his meal.
	"True," replied Boyce.  "Very true.  I believe it is probably
 a combination of both.  Whatever the case it is obvious that the 
poachers must be dealt with."
	"From what I understand," said Lord Blackaxe.  "The Kinian
 Army has already failed completely at the task.  Didn't find a single 
poacher.  The chances of all of our armies finding even a single poacher 
seems very slim."
	"My sources have failed utterly," added Waytorn.  "I banned 
poaching because it involved too much risk and not enough profit.  I 
don't want to free a poacher from prison and only have to free him
 again next year.  Plus poachers don't add much to the crime network
 and tend to take advantage of it."
	There was an uneasy silence as many people pondered how
 complicated the crime network sounded.  Pothax looked around at 
all the thoughtful expressions and spoke up.  "So what do we do 
about it?" he asked.
	Victoria looked around expectantly, but nobody said anything.
  She bit her lip and looked at Wynic for support.  The assassin 
frowned and shrugged.  He couldn't assassinate the enemy if he didn't 
know where they were.
	"I hate to be the one to say it," said Blackaxe, 'but it looks
 like we should start preparing for war.  The latest report of a skirmish
 was the biggest yet and there's been reports that there hasn't been a
 caravan to reach Fort Phal for a week.  If that keeps up for another 
two weeks they'll run out of food and supplies."
	"I could take a cargo load of supplies there in Rat's Nest,"
 said Carlo meekly.
	"That's true," added Savin.  "The ship could be there in a
 third of the time with fifty percent more supplies than a caravan. 
We'd have three times the supplies there in the same time it takes a 
caravan to get there."
	"Mathex," said Willium.  "How's that Icefleet coming along?"
	"Five ships being built, two being modified.  At the increased
 rate they're being built at they'll be done in less than two days.  Savin
 and I are still working out designs with the shipmasters," answered
 the minotaur.
	"We're going to need more than that.  Would the shipmasters
 mind having about seven thousand extra workers?"
	"You're going to use the armies?" asked Queen Helen in 
disbelief.
	"Why not?  We did it during Kobalix's Quest to build the 
giant-crossbow, why shouldn't we do it now?  Besides they need 
something to do instead of just standing around doing nothing!"
	Victoria started to protest that the military training was meant
 to invoke discipline in the ranks so when faced with danger their 
training would kick in and create a fearless fighting machine.  She 
dropped it though before she could open her mouth, knowing they'd
 need the ships if it came to war.  If not, they could sell the ships for 
a profit to the merchants and leave a small Icefleet.
	When Queen Helen didn't reply, King Willium went on.  
"With an Icefleet built and ready, we'll be prepared for a war if King 
Sear decides to attack.  Which seems unlikely since I've talked to 
him and he seems to agree with Prince Boyce."
	The huge bronze doors to the room creaked open and King
 Sear entered.  He looked very sad.  "I've just received word from a 
regiment sent to Castle Blueflame."
	Victoria felt it coming.  She knew roughly what the King would
 say next.  A sense of dread spread up her spine and clutched her heart
 in it's icy grip.
	"Castle Blueflame has been attacked by an Ice tribe and 
massacred.  We're going to war."



		"Victoria," called Dillard.  He raced down the corridor
 in the palace where he was a guest to talk with the brigadier.  
"Where's Rades?"
	"Isn't he with you?"
	"We got separated in the mountains.  I searched for him, but
 we couldn't find him.  I assumed he had come here," Dillard explained,
 his voice showing his worry.
	"Don't worry about him," said Wynic.  "If anything happened
 he probably went the wrong way.  He could have got lost and ended
 back in Arthian.  He'll get here eventually."
	Dillard nodded and walked down the hallway to his room 
beside Lord Blackaxe's.  He didn't look that comforted by Wynic's
 words.  His door slammed and the assassin stood alone in the hall 
with the beautiful archeress.
	"What a day," murmured Victoria, melting into Wynic's arms
 and resting her head on his shoulder.  "All that shopping, the fight and
 now this.  I feel like I could sleep for a week!"
	Wynic kissed her cheek and frowned.  He looked down the 
hallway at Dillard's door.  "If I didn't know better, I'd say Dillard
 found a lover.  Probably a maid or something."



		Lieutenant Adrienne was the last person Dillard would
 have expected to be waiting in his room.  He liked her a fair bit and 
she was quite beautiful, if not irresistible.  He simply hadn't thought he'd
 have any chance of courtship with her.
	Unfortunately for Dillard, Adrienne went around courtship in 
the same fashion she'd attack an enemy or hunt a stag.  Watch for 
weaknesses and learn as much as possible.  She had learned a fair bit 
over the past week during their riding and talking together.  Then, 
when the enemy wasn't expecting anything, she'd attack with full forces.
	As Dillard stepped through the door he was met with a 
crushing kiss, and a beautiful and irresistible woman.  His senses 
eemed to overflow as his lips met hers and the multiple fragrances of
 appleblossoms filled his nostrils.  He dizzily slammed the door behind 
him and reluctantly pulled his lips from Adrienne's.  "What are you 
doing?"
	Adrienne's dark eyes flashed mysteriously.  "Kissing silly.  
Don't you want to kiss me?"  She pouted.
	"Of course," blurted Dillard before he realized it.  He'd fallen 
into a trap and lost a battle there.  "But-"
	"But nothing.  If you want to kiss me, why don't you?"  
Adrienne's arms wrapped securely around Dillard's armoured waist.
	"Cause it's not polite," stammered Dillard, trying to remove 
Adrienne's arms.
	"So you think you have to ask permission.  Don't you think 
that's already been decided?"
	Dillard grudgingly accepted that, but still he held back.  "Plus
 I'd have to ask permission from your father to formally court you."
	"Not if I've already gotten his permission to marry a knight. 
You are a knight, are you not?"  Adrienne  just won a second battle. 
She went in for the kill.
	Dillard tried to pull away from her kiss, but found himself 
kissing her back.  Adrienne had gained a breech in Dillard's defenses.
 She continued to widen the breech in his defenses, adding infantry 
instead of just the artillery.  Her arms pulled Dillard closer, binding 
their two bodies together.
	Dillard surrendered.



		"Father."
	Pothax looked down, picked Bren up and set him on his knee.
  "What is it, Bren?" he asked.  He looked at the fire burning low in the
 fireplace.  The room seemed strangely quiet, except for the noises 
coming across the hall from Dillard's suite.
	"Why do those boys not like me?"  Tears shone in Bren's eyes.
	"Do you remember when you first met Nebonex?  How scared
 you were because he was a minotaur?" asked Pothax after a
 thoughtful pause.
	"Yes."
	"Well, you see people are scared of people who are different.
  Nebonex surely is different, isn't he?"
	"Ya!" grinned Bren.
	"You didn't like him then either, did you?"
	"No sirree!"
	"Well Bren, you're different from those other boys.  You're 
nice, smart, and better looking," Pothax smiled, ruffling the boy's 
shady-brown hair.  "They're not used to that and don't understand it.
  So they're scared of you and therefore don't like you.  They're
 probably jealous too!  Okay?"
	"Okay."  Bren looked at the floor.  "I'm sorry about causing
 the fight."
	"No matter.  What's done is done.  Though I did enjoy 
punching that bastard!"
	Bren smiled up at Pothax.  "Tell me a story?"
	The cutthroat told him the story of Foolish King Horace.  
When the story was done Bren said something Pothax could never 
have dreamt hearing.  Something that to his enslaved upraising seemed
 damn near impossible.  "You're the best dad in the whole world," the
 boy mumbled as he fell asleep in the cutthroat's arms.
	Pothax started to cry.



		General Chek sat down at the table across from 
General Sardias.  He looked around the conference room briefly, 
taking note of field Marshal Sahos from Colnic, Field marshal Pegs
 from Arthian, the minotaur General Gisoni and King Searle.  Sear 
was a General-King and therefore in charge of the military in addition
 to the parliament.  Lord Blackaxe was late.
	"We can start without Blackaxe," said Sear, standing up at 
the head of the table.  "Once we have fifty Iceships built, I'd like to 
man, equip them and send them north to Fort Phal.  I believe a 
convoy would be the best way to send them.  After that we can send
 convoys of twenty to thirty ships at a time until the whole army is 
equipped with Iceships and up in Fort Phal."  He paused thoughtfully.
  "Any objections?"
	"No," said Pegs gruffly.  "Your plan involves a strong striking
 force with a constant array of reinforcements.  There is however the
 problem of the trenches that the tribes dug last time.  Wouldn't a ship
 get stuck easily in a trench?"
	"Probably," muttered Sahos.  "But the ships will give us the 
advantage compared to the last war.  We can cross the no-man's 
land unharmed by the enemy.  That will be the difference!"
	"Very well, Gentlemen," said King Sear.  "Meeting adjourned.
  Somebody tell Blackaxe not to worry about being late if you see 
him."  He rose from his seat and left the room followed by all the 
Marshals and Generals except Generals Chek and Sardias.
	Sardias studied Chek for a moment and stood to leave.  She
 abruptly turned to face the General.  "What are you thinking?"
	"I'm thinking ye should keep yer nose to yerself before it gets
 punched!" spat the General.  He picked up his velvet hat with the
 bright purple plume.  Most people considered Chek to be eccentric
 when it came to his fancy clothes and outrageous outfits; they were
 probably right.  He propped his hat on his head in a somewhat 
dashing angle and smiled up at Sardias.
	Sardias slapped him and grabbed his ruffled collar.  "It was
 a simple question Chek!  What is it you don't like about Sear's plan?"
	Chek rubbed his sore cheek for a moment and glared.  "Very
 well," he mimicked King Sear.  "I'll tell you if you keep it to yerself 
and quit crinkling the silk!"
	Sardias released her hold.
	"I find it interesting that Lord Blueflame is rumoured to have 
made some deals during Kobalix's Quest with Kobalix himself.  The 
poachers plaguing the Ice Lands supposedly belonged to Kobalix.  
Did you know that the King Culprit is rebuilding a keep southeast of 
Castle Blueflame?"
	"So?"
	"I find it an interesting coincidence that Castle Blueflame was 
massacred.  Don't you?"
	"My, my, the gossip in this place!"
	Both Generals turned in surprise to see the King Culprit
 leaning against the doorframe.  He took a sip from a goblet and 
pondered for a moment.  "You have all the facts right, I'll grant you 
that.  "I'm building my retirement home, all right, though I haven't 
decided what to do with it."  He paused thoughtfully.  "I too find it 
interesting that castle Blueflame was massacred.  Almost like the ice
 Folk were doing me a favour.  Kobalix's influence there was getting 
to be a little more than a pest."
	"Kobalix is dead.  Who's the current leader of Kobalix's men?" 
demanded Chek.
	"Lad, if I knew that I would have killed the bastard and 
claimed complete domination of the crime world."
	"It seems to me Lord Blueflame would be an obvious choice
 to be Kobalix's successor."
	Waytorn mulled that thought over.  "Not likely.  Blueflame 
only recently joined Kobalix's forces because he was going broke 
and Kobalix needed a place to serve as a supply post where he could
 hoard small groups of men.  it is more likely that someone with a great 
deal experience would become the new crime lord."
	"I've heard that you banned poaching because it wasn't as
 profitable.  Why is it Kobalix didn't ban it?" asked Sardias.
	"I banned it because poachers were pains in the ass.  As for 
Kobalix?  Some say his real purpose in sending men to the Ice Lands
 was to find the Spear of Destiny.  After all, that has to do with 
Kobalix's Quest to rule the world."
	"Wait, wait!  Kobalix sent men there before he died?" Sardias
 demanded.
	"Of course.  This poaching business has been going on for 
years now.  When did you think it started?  The same day Kobalix 
died?"
	"Does that mean Kobalix's successor is looking for the Spear
 of Destiny?" asked Chek dubiously.
	"Probably."



		Though Carlo could handle Rat's Nest all by himself,
 he decided to interview a crew in case an emergency should arrive.
 He wanted to make sure he had the best warriors and sailors possible.
  Sitting down at the desk he motioned to Eluth to let the first person in.
	Eluth nodded and opened the door.  It was Pothax and he 
smiled at Eluth.  "Come in, Pothax," said the knight, gesturing to a chair. 
 He closed the door behind the cutthroat.
	"State your experience," said Carlo, hiding a smile.
	"Veteran warrior, cutthroat, spy and assassin.  I was a member
 of the crew who went to Kobalix's Picnic."
	"Military training?" 
	"None."
	"We'll let you know, Pothax," said Savin, standing beside 
Carlo as advisor.  The cutthroat nodded and left.
	Princesses Kelly and Kerry entered together and stood before
 the desk.  They were dressed in finely linked chain mail kilts, black
 breast, shoulder, arm and leg plates.  Carlo found it hard to determine
 one twin from the other.
	"Experience?" Savin asked, crossing his arms.
	"Infantry captain, soldier, cat-sledder and biathalonist," Kelly
 replied.  "Unfortunately Winterfest was cancelled for this year."
	"Archer, crossbowist and infantry soldier," said Kerry with a
 glance at her sister.
	"Military training?"
	"Royal Strategic School First Degree, three years at the 
Academy of Combat in Jaton, and two years in the Royal Kinian
 army," replied Kelly.  "That's for both of us."



		Dillard nodded.  "Knight, squire, apprentice sailor 
and archer.  Crew member of Kobalix's Picnic."
	"Training?"
	"Knight School, four years at the Academy of combat in 
Athex and an apprenticeship under Captain Rigg of the Sea Mary," 
Dillard answered.  He got up to leave and turned to Carlo.  "As much
 as I want to go, I won't go without the lady next in line.  Her feelings
 are mutual."
	Carlo nodded and motioned for Eluth to let the last one in.  
The knight opened the door and motioned Adrienne towards the chair.
  She stepped forward, kissed Dillard, who was on his way out, and
 sat down.
	"Name?"
	"Lieutenant Adrienne of Hartfell Keep."
	"Experience?"
	"Cat-sled lieutenant, soldier, infantry Lieutenant, crossbowist 
and biathalonist."
	"Training?"
	"Two years at the Academy of combat in Jaton, three years 
in the Royal Kinian Army."
	"Okay," said Carlo.  "And your first duty as a crew member 
is to take this list and notify all on it to report here within the hour with
 all their necessary supplies.  Congratulations."  He handed her a slip
 of parchment.



		"What?  Why are we on the list?" demanded Wynic, 
jerking Pothax by the collar.  "I never even got an interview!"
	"Or wanted one for that matter," added Victoria, crossing her
 arms.  She glared at the struggling cutthroat.
	"I didn't do it!" Pothax cried.  "Willium requested that Carlo 
put it there!  He wants you two to go to that Fort Phal with a special
 assignment!"
	"Wait!" yelled Victoria.  She grabbed the cutthroat from her 
husband and jerked him over to face her.  "What assignment?" she 
shouted.
	"Willium's assigned us with trying to find and infiltrate the 
poachers ranks," gurgled the cutthroat.  "Could you let my collar go? 
My next piece of news may make you accidentally kill me."
	Victoria shrugged and release Pothax.  "I'm going to kill 
Willium!  Rip his fat head off and play catch with it!"
	"He also assigned Larry to the task."
	Victoria screamed bloody murder.



		Snowdancer stared at the ship and glanced at her 
cousin Blackthunder.  He too was just as amazed by the Iceship 
that was to the north of the forest.  She looked around and saw the 
cougar lying lazily by the crackling campfire.
	"We can't keep up with that," Blackthunder muttered in the 
Tongue.  "It's too fast!  We're too slow!"
	"They're heading for the Fort," she replied.  "We'll be safe 
until they reach there.  It is not of our concern," she muttered and 
crawled back to the warmth of the fire.
	"What is our concern?" Blackthunder demanded.  He watched
 the ship disappear on the horizon.
	"To watch the warrior."
	"What happens if the warrior is on it and going to the Fort?"
	"Then he is no longer our concern.  If that happens we go to 
the lair.  Don't worry.  Tomorrow we go to the cave.  They will know
 if the warrior is on it."



		The ship was fast, Pothax granted Carlo that.  But it 
was also freezing cold because of the wind-chill.  He constantly kept 
below deck where he could be warmed by his lantern.  Occasionally 
he'd glance out the port hole and watch the landscape fly by.  The 
landscape was becoming less and less ragged and more flat.  This 
meant they went faster.  Which meant it got colder on board.
	Kerry was good company to talk to.  Pothax appreciated the 
attention, but it was no substitute for Bren's admiring gaze.  He'd stayed
 in Jaton with Willium.  Sir Glac and Nebonex had promised to watch 
over the bay.  Already Pothax missed him.
	"So what did you do?" asked Kerry intently.  She sat on the 
floor, her head cupped in her hands.  Her dark eyes flashed curiously.
	"I killed him," Pothax shrugged.  "What was I supposed to do?
  Stand by and let him beat the boy to death?"  He looked down at her
 from his hammock thoughtfully.
	"Of course not!  So afterwards you adopted Bren as your 
own?  The end?"
	"Sort of.  I took the boy to an abbey, not knowing who else 
to take the boy to.  It was later on that the abbot convinced me to 
adopt the boy."
	"You didn't want him?"
	"Not necessarily.  It's just I figured I'd be a lousy father and 
role-model.  I'm probably right," Pothax said thoughtfully.  He looked
 down at her.
	"Oh, I don't think so.  I'd say you've done a fine job raising 
him so far.  He can definitely take care of himself.  You shouldn't put 
yourself down like that!"
	"You forget the role-model part.  That incident with Lord 
Ponde doesn't score points with my estimation of a good father.  A 
cutthroat isn't the best role-model for a boy."
	"What's wrong with having a hero for a father?" asked Kerry
 deviously.  "Bren is proud to call you father," she said, standing up 
so she was eye level with the cutthroat.  "Despite a rough, seemingly 
heartless exterior, you're kind, loving and generous.  I can understand
 why he's proud to call you father.  After all," she said, moving closer.
  "I'd be proud to call you lover."
	Pothax tried to back away and hit his head on the low ceiling.
  "You're kidding me right?  I'm old enough to be your father!"
	Kerry paused and smiled.  "True," she said.  "But you said 
you never count your winters simply because you don't care.  Why 
have you changed your mind?" 
	"I-I just did!"
	"Fine.  You just did!  Why?"
	"Cause I-cause I decided to act my age!  And because I, 
uh-"
	Kerry interrupted him by pressing her lips firmly against his
 and cupping his chin in her hands.  "Quit babbling and act your age!
 That's an order."
	"But-"
	"No buts!" she snapped.  She smiled and kissed the cutthroat 
again.



		"How in Hell am I supposed to walk around in this?" 
Rades demanded.  He pointed angrily at his infirmary gown.  "Without
 showing my butt off, of course?"
	Andre, the man in the next bed snorted.  "I don't think you're
 supposed to.  Take a hint, Lieutenant!  They don't want you 
wandering around and getting in the way!"
	Rades was about to rebuke, but he was interrupted by a 
commotion out in the hallway.  Rades ran to the door and looked out.
  He regretted running when a spasm of pain shot through his body, 
bringing him to his knees.
	Five wounded men were being hauled through the quickly 
crowding halls.  Three men were unconscious and one of those 
wasn't moving at all.  A short man was babbling about the pain while
 the last was screaming in a shrieky wail.  The bulky Captain, from 
Rades point of view, of the group was shouting orders and demanding
 that Colonel Pat send out a posse.
	The Colonel ignored the Captain and paced back and forth, 
occasionally bumping into the agitated Captain.  She clenched and 
unclenched her gloved fist as if considering punching the Captain.  
"You said there was only the captive, didn't you?  That means there's 
no one to follow!  Go back to the barracks and bother someone else!"
	"One man injured five soldiers," breathed Rades in disbelief.  
"Counting the captain of that group, that's six to one odds!  Impossible!"
	Apparently Colonel Patrice overheard, because she turned 
to face the Stornium.  She sighed heavily.  "Not a man, a minotaur, 
and a huge one at that!  There were twelve soldiers in that scouting 
party so that's twelve to one."
	"But why are they here, and not out in the snow?  Surely the
 minotaur didn't attack the gate!"
	"Strangely enough, the minotaur ambushed the party only fifty
 yards from the gate.  Not surprising during a blizzard.  Captain Henri
 was very lucky to get the monster over the head with a Katunka."
	"What happened to the other six soldiers, and what's a 
Katunka?"
	"All dead," sighed Pat.  Rades realized that she wasn't used 
to losing troops.  He regretted thinking that when he was reminded 
of castle Deltex, now in ruins.  "A Katunka," the Colonel continued, 
"is a minotaur weapon.  A sort of combination between trident and
 mace.  A very versatile weapon even if there are some flaws in the 
basic design."
	"Was it designed by the same minotaur who designed the 
Goban?" asked Rades, referring to the harpoon-longsword that he 
knew of.  "Designed by Brigadier Mathex?  The same one who 
designed the giant-crossbows?"
	Pat nodded slowly, a bit unsure of the minotaur's name.  
She shook her head in frustration.  "I have much better things to do
 now than to discuss weaponry with you, Stornium.  I'll deal with you
 later.  Right now I have to attend to the captive."  She smiled.  "By 
the way, nice ass!"
	Rades watched her march away and turned back to Andre.
  He winced from the pain and stood wondering.  "Where would the
 minotaur come from unless he belongs to the poaching hoards here 
in the Ice Lands?"
	Andre shrugged.  "The poachers are an obvious conclusion,
 but why attack a scouting patrol?  Surely the monster could tell the 
difference between a herd of caribou and a troop of horses!"
	"Apparently you northerners have different views on a 
minotaur's civilization and intelligence," noted Rades.
	"You mean domestication!" laughed Andre.
	Rades flushed.  The minotaurs have the same view of humans
 having been domesticated apes from Tigalo, much like our belief that
 minotaurs evolved from cattle.  I find it interesting that some people 
still believe those old fool's tales," he commented.
	The remark struck home.  Andre flushed angrily and tried to 
respond.  Then he realized that opening his mouth would declare him
 a fool.  He kept quiet.



		"Now that's interesting," said Colonel Pat, setting the
 interrogator's report down on her oak desk.  She glanced at her 
Lieutenant-Colonel.  "Fetch Lieutenant Rades," she ordered the man.
  She sat back in the velvet chair and drummed her fingers on the table.
	The man returned with Rades leaning heavily on the soldier's
 arm.  The Stornium had regained a great deal of his colour, having 
lost that icy-blue tinge to his skin he looked a fair bit handsome.  He 
sat down in the velvet chair across the desk from Patrice with a 
grimace of pain.
	"The captive," said the Colonel slowly, "was a bodyguard of 
Kobalix's apparently.  His most trusted as the captive claims," she 
explained.  "Like most of the survivors of Kobalix's armies, he was 
out on Lake Vormia when the citadel exploded.  Does this correspond
 with your knowledge of Kobalix's Picnic?"
	Rades remembered joking about bringing sausages to roast in 
the citadel's embers and nearly laughed.  "Yes, it does," he responded.
  "The ships out on the lake were to prevent a naval assault from Athex.
  Almost half of his forces were massed there preparing for an attack 
on Athex's waterfront."
	"We managed to find that the minotaur was indeed a poacher, 
but we couldn't get him to reveal the location of the poacher's camp or
 camps.  Normal procedures for poaching is hanging and with the 
additional charges of ambush, assault and murder,  I'm inclined to 
agree.  We won't gain any more information from him.  We offered to
 set him free if he led us to the camp, but he refused.  Besides, 
several of the guards have been attacked by him since we imprisoned
 him.  I'm not going to risk more men.  "He'll be hanged tomorrow 
morning."
	She seemed to be looking for a justification to kill the minotaur 
and Rades had to agree.  Such a powerful fighter was too dangerous
 to properly restrain.  he didn't doubt that he was to attend the 
occasion since it seemed to help Pat's conscience.

Chapter Eight
		The spies had claimed there was a Stornium present 
in Fort Phal.  The rumours were that he was also one of those who 
had overthrow Kobalix and destroyed the citadel.  It was no stroke 
of luck that the Captain Henri had managed to capture Raynard.  The
 Captain was a spy too.
	Raynard was eight feet tall and looked as unmoveable as a 
boulder.  It had taken two horses to carry the huge minotaur into the
 Fort.  Now as the noose was fitted around him for his hanging, he
 smiled.
	The soldier backed off, unsure if it was a smile or a growl. 
 It was hard to tell with a minotaur.  Wisely the soldier finished his 
job as quick as he could and left.
	Again Raynard smiled.  The ropes wouldn't hold him, he was
 too heavy.  The beam holding the rope would break before the 
minotaur could even begin to choke.
	The interrogator was a spy also and had done his best to 
make Raynard look injured and scarred from whip lashes.  In truth 
Raynard felt better than usual having been given a meal worthy of a
 King.  He couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good 
night's sleep.



		Rades' armour, though it was dented, battered, and 
rusted around the edges, felt like a tonne.  It had been awhile since 
he'd worn it and it felt strangely unnatural.  The pain in his body was
 quite bearable now and he moved with increasingly ease and strength.
	The minotaur up on the platform reminded him of Nebonex 
only a good foot taller than the Prince and more brutish looking.  He 
wore nothing but a kilt and leather boots yet he didn't even shiver in 
the freezing wind.  Rades looked past the minotaur to study the Fort.
	Fort Phal was more of a mountain of ice than a building.  The
 architecture was carved, not built and the resulting effect was 
something that looked impossibly solid.  Wood could only be found 
in doorways, supporting beams and on floors.  Heat ventilating systems
 were constructed in a fashion to keep the rooms at a comfortable 
temperature and make the walls only harder than before through 
melting and refreezing.
	Rades wasn't paying much attention to the proceedings and
 missed the Colonel giving the order to proceed with the hanging.  
He didn't however miss the noose around the minotaur's neck snapping
 or the shackle chains breaking easily.  The minotaur next used the 
chains binding his huge hands to strangle a nearby soldier garrote style,
 breaking the chain in the process.
	Like a charging bull, he plowed through the surrounding 
soldiers, using his sheer bulk to the ultimate advantage by crushing his
 foes between fellow foes.  He was heading towards Rades for no 
apparent reason.
	The Lieutenant drew his sword unhesitantly and met the 
minotaur's charge with an overhead swing at it's chest.  The minotaur 
caught the blade in one huge hand.  Rades stared as the brute 
squeezed the blade, breaking it between his fingers.



		Raynard smiled at the Lieutenant.  He liked showing 
off his incredible strength and the broken sword was but a token of it. 
 Next he smacked the man over the side of the head; lightly, he didn't 
want to kill him.
	After seeing the feat of strength the soldiers were reluctant to
 attack.  Raynard grinned and slung the dazed Lieutenant over a 
shoulder.  He marched towards the gate, a path parting before him
 through the crowd.



		Rades tried to look up and saw Pat's pale face 
disappear in a crowd of stunned expressions.  He looked around, 
subconsciously wondering what was going on.  He felt faint, such was 
the minotaur's hold on his chest.  The blow to the head wasn't helping
 either.
	Kristine appeared with the Captain of the massacred scouting
 party, leading two horses.  Rades face crinkled as he fought to 
understand what she was doing here.  Surely she wasn't going to 
attack the minotaur?
	"Kristine," growled the huge minotaur.  "Tie him securely to 
the saddle and let's get out of this place!"  She took Rades from the
 minotaur and did as told.
	Rades wanted to scream traitor, but couldn't.  The shock 
was too great for him.  The pain in his head started to take hold and
 he felt himself drifting towards unconsciousness.  How could she, he 
wondered as he drifted into oblivion.



		"He is on it," said Blackthunder when he returned to 
the camp from the cave.  "He is no longer our concern.  What now?"
	"We go home.  What else is there to do?" Snowdancer 
responded.  She motioned the warrior to sit down beside her.  "Or 
we could go to the Fort."
	"The word at the cave was that Raynard was caught at the 
Fort.  They want to catch a different warrior.  It may not be safe for 
us there.  Who's concern is the warrior?"
	"The people spying on the Fort."
	"The word is they are planning to leave the Fort with their 
warrior.  Go to the Lair.  They are needed there."
	"The we have to go to the Fort.  We have no choice.  
Someone has to watch the warrior," she replied.
	"That is dangerous.  The warrior has others with him.  They 
are loyal to him.  They are not loyal to our cause," he pointed out.
	"If he became loyal to our cause," said Snowdancer.  "We 
would not have to worry about the others.  They too might become 
loyal.  Maybe."



		"That doesn't look right," muttered Kelly.
	Victoria glanced away from the ice fortress at the Princess.  
"What doesn't look right?" she demanded.  The tone of Kelly's voice
 frightened her.
	"The flag.  Someone forgot to put it up.  There should be a 
flag with four swords and three mountains up there.  It's a very strict 
rule in the military here in the Kinian Mountains and father said 
Colonel Patrice was strict."
	"We're in the Ice Lands now though."
	"It's just the same.  Something has happened or else they 
wouldn't have forgotten the flag," Kelly explained.  "I don't like it."
	Victoria liked the Princesses sensible logic.  "Perhaps we 
should send Pothax or maybe Larry to check before going?" 
Victoria suggested.
	"No.  If something's happened we'll find out soon enough."



		Adrienne skipped up the ropes and called Dillard.  
The knight slid down until he was a foot from her head.  "What can
 you see from up there?" she asked.
	"Snow.  What did you expect?"
	"No.  I mean the Fort."
	"A lot of people running around, looking confused.  
Something has happened or they want to know what a ship is doing
 so far in land.  One or the other."
	"You better come down then.  If there's been an attack, 
we'll need you on the foredeck."  She waved him towards the bow 
of the ship and slid back down the rigging.



		Wynic drew his bastardsword from its silver sheath
 and leapt down from the bow of the ship to greet the Captain.  
"Wynic Doxon of Athex.  We bring supplies from Jaton."
	"Captain Slor of the Royal Kinian Army," the Captain saluted.
  "Are you truly the Paladin Assassin?"
	"Yes," Wynic replied.  "What happened here?  The flag isn't 
up and the lookout says there's a lot of people running around.  You
 definitely didn't have a fire."
	The Captain stood there, unsure of what to say.  "A prisoner
 escaped.  He took a Stornium guest with him.  Several traitors fled 
with him."  He sighed heavily.
	"One man?" asked Dillard dubiously from the bow of the 
Iceship.
	"A minotaur poacher.  Finally caught one of them and then 
he gets away.  Not good for the Colonel's record."
	"Can you take us to the Colonel?"
	"Of course.  She's kind of busy though.  What with being the 
Fort Commander and all this traitor business."
	"Brigadier Victoria has been assigned as the new Fort 
Commander," said Wynic.  "She can help the Colonel deal with that, 
but first we really must speak with the Colonel."
	"Of course.  Follow me."
	Pothax, Kelly, Kerry, Dillard, Pothax, Larry and Victoria all 
climbed down the side of the ship and waved good-bye to Carlo, the
 elite knights and the crew.  Adrienne blew a kiss to Dillard.  "See if 
you can find the minotaur's tracks.  Lead the way Captain," the 
Arthian knight proclaimed.



		Dillard bent over suddenly and picked up a broken 
and discarded longsword.  It was made of steel, simply made, but
 perfectly balanced, or would have been had it not been snapped in
 two.  He knelt and picked up the other half of the blade, and fitted
 the two pieces together.  "This is Rades' sword," he declared, 
holding up the heavily-shined weapon.  Rades had always been very 
meticulous when it came to cleaning his weapons.
	Pothax took the hilted half from the knight and examined it.
 He nodded in agreement.  Stornium make.  "Captain.  Is there a 
Lieutenant Rades here at Fort Phal?"
	Slor was about to nod, but then shook his head.  "No, I'm 
afraid not.  He's the Stornium the minotaur took with him.  Strange
 isn't it?  I would have thought the minotaur would have just killed 
him, not abduct him."  He looked suddenly at the bloodstained snow
 and ice, but moved on without explanation.
	Dillard tucked the broken blades into his belt and followed.
 The abduction of Rades didn't seem weird for some reason.  It 
almost made sense.  As if the minotaur had been sent here to find 
Rades.  He shook the thought away and moved on.



		"Well, isn't it sort of obvious?" Victoria asked the 
Colonel.  "Those traitors learned Rades was here and the minotaur
 came here for him.  Then they decided to leave."
	Pat leaned back in her velvet chair and sat thoughtfully.  
"That would mean Captain Henri-Aindreas led those men into an 
ambush and probably even helped the monster kill them.  I wonder 
if Aindreas' brother Andre knew about this."
	"We can always ask him," said Pothax.
	"No.  We can't.  He's dead.  His health wasn't good recently
 and he shared a room with Lieutenant Rades.  They attended the 
hanging together and he was killed when the monster escaped," Pat
 explained.  "It was kind of strange how he ended up in the infirmary
 in the first place.  I'd swear he was faking sickness."
	"Perhaps he too was a spy or maybe it was just legitimate," 
shrugged Victoria.



		Rades opened his eyes a crack, unsure of his 
surroundings and his safety.  The Captain was arguing with the
 minotaur.  He opened his eyes wider and watched closely.
	"Why'd you do it?" the Captain demanded angrily.  His 
fists clenched and his face turned a shade of red.
	"He was going to give us away.  I had to dispose of him,"
 the minotaur replied coolly.  "Sit down Aindreas," he said from 
his seat before the campfire.
	"He was my brother!" spat Aindreas, kicking snow in the 
minotaur's face.
	Raynard's huge hand shot out and caught the Captain by 
the collar.  He hauled Henri down to face him.  "Would you like to
 join your brother?" he growled.
	A figure blocked Rades' view and he looked up to see who 
it was.  Kristine smiled and knelt down to face the Lieutenant.  "I 
suppose you're wondering why you're here tied to a stake?" she 
asked, pointing to the post behind him.
	"Actually the thought hasn't truly crossed my mind, but now
 that I think of it.  Yes, I'd like to know what I'm doing here," Rades
 replied truthfully.  "Tied to a stake," he added half-heartedly.
	"You're Raynard's prisoner," Kristine explained, hooking her
 thumb at the huge minotaur.  She looked into Rades pleading eyes
 and sneered.  "You expect me to free you," she laughed heartily and
 stood up.  "You won't last long!"
	"Why'd you do this?  I thought-"
	"That we were lovers?" Kristine snorted.  "You're not that 
cute Lieutenant.  I was spying on you right from the beginning.  That
 first kiss was meant to wake you up.  When I eavesdropped on you
 and the Colonel it wasn't because I wanted to learn more about you.
  Well, sort of.  I needed to know if you really were one of the 
Overthrowers."
	"But...  How'd you know?"
	"You fitted the description," she shrugged.
	"Rades mind reeled when it occurred to him that this was 
actually happening and wasn't an dream.  She had played him for a
 fool.  She'd probe and seduce and he'd have done anything to please
 her curiousity.  He felt utterly betrayed, as if she'd taken the sword 
from his own belt and rammed it through his chest.
	This wasn't the first time something like this had happened to
 Rades either.  During Kobalix's Quest by an Arthian named D'arcy.
  She too had seduced him and tried to abduct him only Rades had
 proved to be a better fighter than she had expected.  He never 
found out why they had tried to abduct him because she and her allies
 used cyanide.  Unless she knew that he attended the war meetings 
with the generals she didn't have any reason for his abduction.
	"Was I nothing to you?" he asked on the verge of tears.  It 
had happened twice!
	"You?  Ha!"  Kristine kicked him in the stomach with her 
boot.  "I'm married!" she proclaimed, pointing at Captain 
Henri-Aindreas.  "You're a helpless fool Rades!  Can't even get 
through the mountains without getting lost!"  She spat on his forehead
 and walked away.
	The spittle ran down his nose and dripped onto his 
breastplate.  He blinked away tears and concentrated on his 
surroundings.  Aindreas was sulking and Kristine was trying to soothe
 him.  The minotaur was busy eating.  The rest of the traitors that he 
could see were either sleeping or standing watch.  Rades counted 
about twenty of them, but there was more behind him because he 
could here them talking and betting on a card game.
	"Look what the dog dragged in," muttered a man, clumping 
over and sitting down beside Rades.  He sat with his back to Rades'
 post and took out a carving knife plus a piece of bone.  He began to
 carve.  "If I were you, I'd keep quiet lad.  The minotaur doesn't like
 people disturbing his dinner."
	Rades nodded slowly.  "Where are we going?" he whispered.
	The man shook his head silently.  "Kris didn't tell you?  We're
 going to our Lair.  Sort of a headquarters if you ask me.  You ain't
 gonna like it there."
	"Kristine said something about me not lasting long.  What's 
going to happen to me?"
	"They'll interrogate you, even torture you there," the man 
replied.  "Then they'll throw you in the mines and work you to death.
  You're a slave now."
	"What's in the mines?" Rades probed.
	"Didn't you ever hear that curiousity killed the cat?  Kris was
 right by Jehovah!  You won't last long!"
	"Why'd you take me?  Surely you could find someone bigger
 that'd make a better slave!"
	"Ya, but you have information that can't be found through 
spying.  We need that information."
	"Why?" 
	"Lad, you're persistent!  Give it up!  I'll tell you one thing 
though.  Your armies don't stand a chance," the man proclaimed, 
reaching for a harness strapped to his belt.  "Kobalix's engineers 
experiment with black dust and invented a thunder-bow.  Now you've
 seen cross-pistols, but I own a thunder-pistol," he boasted, pulling a
 pistol from his harness.  It lacked the small crosspiece of a 
cross-pistol.
	Rades wasn't impressed.  The thing didn't look that powerful.
 If anything it'd be as good as a slingshot in his point of view.
	"Damn things are hard to reload that's all.  They're working 
on creating a better type at the Lair.  Something that can be mass 
produced."
	"Black dust is forbidden," Rades muttered.
	"Not where Kobalix's Legions are concerned.  We won't 
make the mistakes Vormia did.  A new age has come and Thunder
-weapons will play a great role in it!"
	"I doubt that," Rades retorted.  "Last I heard, the minotaur 
Mathex was working on a steam-powered catapult.  Whatever you 
make, Mathex can make something better!"
	"Not against the thunder-cannons.  Face it lad, the world is 
changing as we speak and you can either get run over in the 
stampede or hang on for the ride!"



		"Minotaur tracks," muttered Brenda.  She sighed
 heavily and got to her feet.  "Carlo, is this north by northeast?" she
 asked.
	"Close, I prefer to be more accurate though.  Twenty-nine 
degrees east of the north cardinal point," he said, studying the tracks
 taking note of the horse tracks.  "They can't move that fast since 
they took horses.  We could overtake them easily and these tracks 
won't disappear due to snow or wind because it's such a clear day,"
 he pointed out, hooking a thumb at the cloudless sky."
	Brenda looked at the silver moon rising in the east.  "It's too 
dark to pursue them now.  We'll have to wait till morning.  Besides, 
now that we know the general direction they went, we know where 
to start looking."



		Gith set his paint brush down and walked across
 the palace parapet to where a lone figure stood in silence, shivering 
in the cold.  He set down his cane and studied the man, unsure of
 how to proceed.  "Waytorn," he called cautiously.
	The King Culprit turned around and gave the painter a grim 
smile.  He looked haggard and worn out, not to mention cold.  "Yes,
 old man?"
	"You have the appearance of the man with a problem," Gith
 commented.  "You know," he said.  "I have been told that I'm a 
reliant source of advice.  People with problems seem to flock to me. 
 How about you tell me yours?"
	"So you can tell Lady Bardelias?" scoffed Waytorn.
	"Unlike Lady Bardelias, I keep things confidential.  Besides,
 I don't like that type of person.  'Thou shalt not Gossip' should be 
declared the Eleventh Order."
	Waytorn laughed, though a bit strained.  "Thank you, Gith. 
 I needed that!"  He sighed and his shoulders slumped.  He looked 
very frail and vulnerable.  "Perhaps I do need someone to talk to
 other than the Lord.  Jehovah doesn't seem to be helping much 
lately," he said soberly.  "I don't think he likes me."
	"You never know," smiled Gith.  "His Lordship works in 
mysterious ways."
	"That he does," said Waytorn thoughtfully.  "This is a matter 
of the heart Gith.  I'd prefer if you kept it the utmost of secrets.  Will 
you?"
	"Of course, of course," said Gith.  He motioned the cutthroat
 to sit and sat down himself, his back to a battlement.  "Go ahead and
 don't rush.  People tend to skip bits and pieces if they're not watching
 what they're saying."
	Waytorn nodded silently and sat down beside the old man. 
 He studied Gith's Arthian Oak cane briefly.  "this will take quite 
awhile," he muttered.  He glanced at Gith questioning.
	"Please go on.  I'll try not to interrupt unless you confuse me."
	The cutthroat nodded thankfully.  "Five years ago I met a 
young lady named Larel.  She was a foolish girl at the time and had
 wandered into one of the roughest sections of Jaton.  She stopped
 to ask a whore for directions and the woman just scoffed at her.
	"I must admit the first time I saw her, I was only looking at 
the money pouch tied to her belt.  Perhaps I should have turned 
around and looked for better prey, but I pressed on hopefully.  
However she asked me for directions, mentioning her father was 
the owner of the Timothy's Club.  The Club was, and still is the 
most popular restaurant in Jaton.  It was exclusive to the very rich 
or the nobility.  I'd never thought of kidnapping and ransoming people,
 but I did then.  I led her to a place where I could keep her locked 
up and she foolishly followed, calling me a kindred spirit.  I led her
 into a cellar claiming to know a short cut and locked her down there.
	"I didn't know how to read or write at the time so I had to
 bring a fellow cutthroat, a former noble sentenced with murder and
 abduction, in on the ransom.  We split it fifty-fifty.  I figured there'd
 be more than enough for both of us.
	"So he wrote the ransom note and I went to keep Larel 
company.  She tried attacking me at first, but after she finished weeping,
 she settled down.
	"Perhaps I was a bit too friendly, but by the time the ransom 
was paid she decided she loved me too much to leave me.  She was 
infatuated of course.  She was too busy day-dreaming of romantic 
tales of highwaymen and such to notice my hands were stained with 
blood everytime I came to the cellar with food or to visit her.
	"I didn't want to support both of us so I taught her how to 
fight and how to shoot the crossbow.  She became particularly adept
 at the crossbow."
	"Dame Larel," Gith murmured.
	"Aye.  That's her," Waytorn muttered bitterly and continued.
  "I on the other hand was becoming renown amongst the underworld
 for my skill as a cutthroat.  I even took on an occasional murder job
 or as an assassin."
	"What's the difference?" asked Gith.
	"A murder job is when you're paid.  Sort of like a mercenary.
  Assassin is when you kill a political, military or some person in the
 nobility.  Someone with power," Waytorn explained.  "Like the Lord
 Redhawk before the one we know."
	Gith raised a questioning eyebrow.
	"Hitlot hired me as an assassin and I went to Castle Redhawk
 and would have killed him hadn't someone not beat me to him.  If he
 hadn't died,  Redhawk wouldn't have decided to fight fire with fire 
and hire Wynic Doxon.  Perhaps Hitlot wouldn't have been 
assassinated and he'd have conquered all of the Kinian Mountains
 and beyond.
	"So Hitlot lost the Kinian crime throne and a man named 
Raoul claimed the throne.  His reign was somewhat uncertain and
 his men weren't totally loyal to him.  I saw this as my chance to 
challenge the throne and claim it for myself.
	"At the time Larel was considering Knight School even 
though I was against the idea.  She said she didn't like this way of life 
and asked that I join her.  I loved her, but my greed got the better of 
me.  I wanted that throne.  It wasn't until I had it that I realized I'd lost 
Larel.  The scars on my face that I gained during my victory only 
complicated my plight.
	"She said she didn't want to ever see my face again and we've
 barely spoken since."  Waytorn was on the verge of crying.  Gith 
hadn't thought the cutthroat capable of such an emotion.
	It occurred to the old painter and thought it strange that 
Waytorn be called Waytorn.  A man torn by his passions to the point
 of nearly breaking.  He knew not which way to go or what to do 
when he got there.
	Waytorn changed the subject to the crime world, finding that 
extremely easier to talk about.  "Since I had killed Raoul right in front
 of his men, I had gained their trust and loyalty.  They admired me for
 my courage and integrity.  I led them to a victory against the Arthian 
crimelord, then the Avolic crimelord, the smaller Stornium crimelords
 and finally establishing a foothold in the Minotaur Empire by capturing
 Marsc from Kobalix.  And now, thanks to Wynic, I've extended my
 dubious reign even to the minotaur isles."
	"What of the Ice Lands?"
	"Not worth it.  Poaching isn't that profitable and the Ice Folk
 are nomadic so anything else would be too dangerous.  Kobalix was
 a fool to send men there and establish a base when he needed men 
down in Arthian."
	"Do you feel better now?"
	Waytorn looked up thoughtfully.  "Yes," he said slowly.  "Yes,
 I do.  Thanks Gith!  I feel like a huge weight's been lifted off my 
shoulders."  He frowned.  "I haven't solved anything though."
	"I think you should start courting again," said Gith, standing up
 and stretching.
	"How?"
	"You could start by going to the Timothy's Club.  Take 
somebody like General Chek with you since Rades isn't around.  
He's a likable fellow and sure to ease the situation."
	"Thanks Gith."
	"No problem."  Gith smiled thoughtfully at the Cutthroat King.
  "Have you ever thought of retirement?  I've quite enjoyed it and
 you're certainly rich enough!"
	"Like a king, I have to die to lose my throne.  Abdicating 
would be like suicide.  I'd be challenging every greedy killer within a
 hundred leagues radius of me to start taking shots at me."



		General Chek looked up suspiciously.  He didn't trust
 Waytorn, that was certain, but he couldn't think of any reason not to
 accompany Waytorn to the Timothy's Club.  He'd been wanting to 
go, and after all, Waytorn had offered to pay.
	"I'm a bit shy, you see-"
	Chek couldn't help it.  Waytorn shy?  He burst out laughing 
in the cutthroat's face.  "You're kidding me," he gasped.  "Ye?  Shy?"
	Waytorn's scarred  face turned red with embarrassment.
	Chek mistook the redness as anger and abruptly quit laughing. 
 "Sorry about that," he said soberly.  "It's just I was suspecting a trick
 or something.  "I'll go with ye and introduce ye to the Ladies."
	"Thank you."
	"Your welcome," Chek replied in old Stornium.



		Zsa Zsa wasn't used to Kinian society.  Her parents
 had sent her east to the University of Evicoth, the best in the known
 world.  Her real name was Susanne, but she had changed it to the 
minotaur equivalent which sounded more dashing to her.  Now that 
she had returned to Jaton her old friends had decided to take her to
 the best club in the city to celebrate.  The Timothy's Club.
	The wine tasted unusual to her, having become accustomed
 to drinking Minotaur Vodka back in Evicoth.  Nevertheless she 
drank it, blinking back tears and ignoring the burning sensation in her 
throat.  Then she nearly choked and had wine fizzing in her nose.  
She coughed and pointed at the source of her attention.
	Her best friend, Dominique, looked up at the stranger.  Her
 eyes went wide and her grin broadened.  "He's cute," she noted.
	"Understatement!" laughed Perrine, the tall young lady beside
 Dominique.  "he's gorgeous!  Invite him over Dominique!  I-"
	The man turned and they saw the right side of his face.  The 
maidens choked, but it wasn't the wine.  They stared at the man's 
face, horribly scarred and burnt.  A hush went through the crowd and
 there were whispers of the King Culprit.
	"I'm having second thoughts about this," Waytorn muttered, 
noting the hush of the crowded club, and the scattered looks in his 
direction.  Some were curious, others were a mix of awe and revulsion. 
 Still other looks of distaste and sneers struck Waytorn like crossbow 
bolts in the chest.  About a dozen of them.
	"Don't worry," said Chek, laying a hand on the cutthroat's 
shoulder and pointing out a table near the dance floor.  "Com'on.  
Those people who don't like you are probably arrogant, selfish,
 self-serving backstabbers.  They aren't worth worrying about!"  He
 nudged Waytorn towards the table.
	The Emperor of Thieves walked forward, a bit unsure of 
whether to keep going or leave.  No, he said mentally, they aren't
 going to make me flee.  Not before a few stares.  He walked on, 
gaining slowly in confidence.
	Chek breathed in deeply, enjoying the intoxicating smells of 
wine and brandy.  He eyed the crowd for anyone who might make 
good company.  His eyes passed over Lady Bardelias without note
 and he spotted a young maid carrying the complimentary platter for 
new club members:  Roasted venison and a bottle of Kinian brandy.
	Waytorn sat down at the table and the room took on a more
 talkative air.  To the cutthroat it seemed to explode with gossip, both
 good and ill concerning the new club member.  His attention went to
 lady Bardelias, who's voice seemed to carry throughout the room.
	The barmaid arrived at Waytorn's table.  She forced a smile 
and set down the platter.  "New members are encouraged to make a
 musical request.  The bardmaster and the band know every song you 
can think of.  Pick a song."
	The food smelled good, the entertainment was great, but the 
service was less than polite.  Waytorn smiled ironically.  "Fools and 
lovers," he said thoughtfully.
	The waitress frowned and walked away.  The song was a
 sentimental, sometimes comical story.  Totally unlike what she has 
expected.  Something more like The Highwayman was what she 
had been thinking of.



		"He's so short," whispered Dominique.  "In the 
stories, he's always seven feet tall and covered with weapons.  I 
only see a single dagger.  He doesn't even have a sword!"
	"Maybe it's not really him," argued Perrine.  "He could just
 be a soldier.  A Stornium or maybe a Colnician."
	"Or," said Zsa Zsa.  "The stories are wrong and that's really 
him.  Bards tend to exaggerate things to make it sound more interesting.
  I truly doubt he's murdered a million people cause that's the same
 amount of people who died during Kobalix's Quest.  The story of
 him killing Emperor Nebonex isn't true because Kobalix ordered 
that assassination and Kobalix and Waytorn were arch-enemies.  
If-"
	"Shhhs!" hissed Dominique.  She clamped a hand over Zsa
 Zsa's mouth.  "We don't need a lecture.  Okay?  So maybe he isn't
 seven feet tall.  Does it matter?  I still say he doesn't look capable 
of killing anyone."
	Zsa Zsa tried to open her mouth to argue that skill has more
 to do with fighting than strength.  Dominique kept her hand clamped
 over Zsa Zsa's mouth however and she couldn't move it.  She 
decided to drop it; there was no use arguing with Dominique.
	"Someone snorted.



		Dame Larel had come to the Timothy's Club to get 
drunk.  Now as she stood in the doorway to the room she looked at
 what seemed to be the focal point of the room, where Waytorn sat 
with a man she recognized as a Stornium general though she couldn't
 remember his name.  On the other hand, she thought, now is my 
chance to apologize.
	"She overheard some young maidens gossiping about the 
cutthroat and listened in.  The knightess snorted when the one girl 
said Waytorn looked harmless.  Harmless?  Waytorn?  The King Of
 Cutthroats harmless?
	The King Culprit looked up, his eyes piecing through Larel 
like a razor-edged sword.  There was fear in his eyes.  There was 
also a mixture of sadness, remorse and something Larel wasn't sure
 if there was a word for it.  A kind of combination of despair and 
loneliness.
	To Larel's eye he looked vulnerable.  Perhaps there was 
some truth to what those maidens said, she mused, making her way
 through the tables towards the cutthroat's table.



		Zsa Zsa ignored her companions and studied the
 tall woman.  She was in her early thirties or so, lean and determined 
looking.  The current fashion in Jaton was to have a shiny ceremonial 
sword; gold and silver pieces had rocketed in value.  This woman, 
however, carried a simple steel blade, barely decorated beyond a 
ruby in the hilt.  A warrior perhaps?  The crossbow strapped across 
her back and several daggers in her belt and boots confirmed that.  
Her clothes were richly made, but lacked the jewelry of a noble. 
 Knight, she guessed.
	The Dame walked determinedly across the room in the
 scar-man's direction.  Zsa Zsa poked Dominique in the ribs and 
pointed after the Dame.  "She's gonna sit with Waytorn!" she hissed.
	Dominique frowned.  "Why would she want to talk to 
Waytorn?  If that scrawny runt is Waytorn that is," she laughed.
	"How about we go over and sit in the table beside them?" 
asked Perrine.
	"Are you nuts?" snorted Dominique.  She jocked a thumb in 
the scar-man's flashily dressed companion.  "His bodyguard would 
probably kill us if they discovered we were eavesdropping!  Besides,"
 she said, pointing at a fancily dressed woman moving to the table. 
 "Lady Bardelias has already decided to claimed it."
	Waytorn swallowed hard and looked from lady Bardelias to
 dame Larel.  Of all the times for her to talk to me, he cursed.  Lady 
Bardelias will have a hay-day making up gossip about this night.  
Then again, he thought, what do I care?  I can have Bardelias 
murdered easily.
	He hardened his resolve and poured himself a drink.
	Larel opened her mouth to speak.  The room quieted to the 
point you could hear a pin drop, or should have if the chef out in the 
kitchen hadn't been lecturing a waitress.  She glanced around,
 startled, but stubbornly continued.  "Waytorn, may I join you?"
	Several nobles hastily stood up and left.  A few more discreet
 ones went through the kitchen and out the backdoor.  The buzzing of
 voices resumed as people began to question and gossip.
	"Yes," Waytorn nodded.
	The knightess took a seat across from the King.  "I want to 
apologize-"  A gasp and a barrage of voices interrupted her.  Looking
 around and glaring at Lady Bardelias, Larel snorted.  "I didn't know 
Lady Bardelias had become a spy," she said loudly.  "She's a very
 lousy one."
	"Well," said General Chek, his voice resonating throughout 
the room though his mouth didn't open.  "Me vater always said lousy
 spies usual end up to be dead spies.  Perhaps we'll see a murder 
tonight if we're lucky!"
	A bulky bodyguard stood up menacingly.  he fingered a huge
 broadsword at his belt.  "Could you repeat that?" he asked flatly.
	"Sit down Jeffrew," hissed Bardelias.
	The man ignored her and clamped a hand on the hilt of his
 sword.  "Repeat it!"  His face flushed.
	Chek sat down and pretended he hadn't heard a thing.
	"Repeat it!"
	Chek looked up casually.  "Are you talking to me?  Repeat
 what?  I didn't say anything!  Did I say anything, Waytorn?" he
 asked the cutthroat.  The King shook his head, playing along.
	Jeffrew's face turned a shade of purple.  He kicked his chair
 aside and drew his sword in rage.  Lady Bardelias cried out in alarm
 and ordered him to sit down.  This scene would undoubtedly cause 
gossip, but it wouldn't be about Waytorn, it's be about her.  Bardelias
 dreaded being gossiped about.
	Two bouncers stepped between Waytorn's table and Jeffrew.
  One flung a small flail, yanking the sword away, while the other 
knocked the bodyguard over the head with a scepter.  A third one 
caught the body before it could reach the floor and began hauling it 
away.
	General Chek looked around the room to see sparse nobles
 and curious courtiers.  However there was a line up of people at the
 door wanting to get in to see what had happened.  Some of those 
were people who had just left and were returning with friends.  "Don't
 you just love this place!  The service is great!"
	Waytorn nodded, smiling mockingly at Lady Bardelias.  
"Larel," he said slowly.  "Apology accepted."

Chapter Nine
		Rades swore that when this war was over, he'd have 
at least a dozen bumps on his head.  This time when he woke up he 
was no longer out doors.  But he was definitely cold.  Opening his 
eyes, he looked around the pitch black room.  He felt ice beneath his
 feet and he was careful to stand up.  He explored the small chamber
 finding only a locked, oak door.  Flickering firelight came from the 
crack under the door.
	It was a half hour later when Rades heard voices and boots 
coming in his direction.  Getting to his feet, he crouched behind the 
door and waited.  There was a clunk as someone took the bar and 
threw it aside.  The door opened a crack.  Rades held his breath.
	As the door opened wider a figure stepped through the door 
and slammed it quickly behind him.  Rades punched out at the figure.
  And missed when the man ducked in the pitch blackness.  The 
Lieutenant reeled backwards as the figure slammed a fist into Rades'
 stomach and again in the chest.
	Rades rolled across the ice in a attempt to get away and 
received a kick in the chest that knocked the air out of his lungs.  A 
second kick sent agony shooting up his leg.  He flailed about with his 
fists and connected with the man's cheek.  Groaning, he got to his feet
 only to be kicked in the chest and bump his head against the ice wall.
	The man snorted and spat.  A second later Rades received a 
blow to the shoulder.  Only this time it wasn't a fist, but a wooden flail.
  He groaned and slumped against the wall.
	"Ha!" laughed the man.  Rades moaned and struck out at the
 sound, feeling his hand connect.  There was a thud as the man fell 
backwards.  The Stornium scampered forwards and brought both 
fists down in the man's stomach.
	A punch sent him rolling backwards, a kick to the groin 
following it up.
	"You're a foolish bastard, Lieutenant!  You're taking on the
 best of the best in a room with no light and hope to win?  I promise 
you, you'll never see the light of day again!" shouted the man.  Rades
 felt a hand grab his head and jerk it back painfully.  "If you answer 
my questions, I might let you live."
	"Never," Rades said with a vow to Jehovah in old Stornium.
	"That's your problem," the man spat in old Stornium, to show
 that he'd understood.  Then he tortured Rades.  He laughed the 
whole time, taunting him with threats in old Stornium.  Rades was not,
 thankfully, conscious when his torturer gouged out his eye with a knife.



		Pothax frowned as he studied where the tracks ended.  
The ice gave no hint as to where the enemy had went.  Dillard came
 forward to stand beside the cutthroat.  "This is going to take awhile,"
 muttered the Doxon.
	"Poor Rades," said Dillard with an oath.
	Larry swung down from the bow of Rat's Nest and glared at
 the ice.  "Where to now?  There aren't any damn tracks to follow!"
	"Shut up, Larry," spat Dillard.  "This is an old trick.  Though 
usually the escaped person uses water, or rocks to cover his tracks. 
 We're but half a league from Fort Phal so I'm beginning to wonder if
 we're not closer than we think.  They took horses.  That would 
suggest that they didn't have far to go or they would have stolen a cat
 or dog sled."
	Larry looked at the knight in puzzlement.  "Huh?"
	Pothax nodded slowly, and looked at the ground.  "An 
underground fortress?"
	"Perhaps," said Dillard with a nod.  "However," he said, 
gesturing at the seemingly endless landscape, "where would you want
 to start digging?"
	Larry groaned.
	"Where's Mathex when you need him?" asked Pothax, 
heading back to the ship.


		"It looks like were at a dead end until we get Mathex
 up here," said Sir Dillard.  "Unless we catch another poacher, of 
course."
	Victoria looked from Dillard to Eluth and Roreed.  "Didn't 
Mathex give you two any lessons?"
	"Well-" began Roreed.
	"Ah, not enough that we could think of anything, other than 
an giant drill," snorted Eluth.
	"Well, start working with one of the metal smiths and see if 
he's got any ideas.  Until Carlo, Brenda and those knights get back 
with more supplies and Mathex, we should at least try to find a way 
into that fortress.  That's if Dillard is right and there is a fortress," said
 Victoria.  She waited until the two knights had left her new office 
before turning to Dillard.  "Continue scouting that region with Pothax,
 Larry and as many knights that you can find.  There has to be an 
entrance there," she ordered.  "If there really is a fortress there."
	Dillard smiled.  "Where would you build a headquarters?"
	"Not that I don't agree, Dill, it's just that I don't want to waste 
all our time in a wild goose chase."


		"I think it's time we went home, Chek," said Waytorn,
 stifling a belch.  He held out a hand and helped the General stagger to
 his feet.  "Adieu, Ladies."  The women at their table smiled and waved.
  "Well," said the King Cutthroat as soon as they were out in the street.
  "Those women were either drunk, blind or actually liked me."
	"Or hated Bardelias.  They might have done it just to spite 
Bardelias.  That one girl who was there last night, ye know the one 
who said scars were considered in minotaur society to be a sign of
 romance and courage.  That speech certainly drew plenty of women
 to our table!  There were girls wanting to know if I had any scars!  
Who knows, in a few years it might be a new fad to have a scar!  Sort 
of like tattoos!"
	"They were also drawn to the uniform you wore today.  You 
ouldn't have any spares, would you?  I don't know what they like 
about uniforms, but I want one."
	"I don't think I have anything that would suit ye.  Ye could find
 a good tailor though and have him make some that actually fits ye!"
	Waytorn wasn't listening, he'd spotted someone.  Someone 
he'd posted in crime basements around Jaton as a former Kobalix 
assassin and to be killed on sight for a reward of two thousand silvers.
  "Follow me," he hissed  to Chek.
	The General sobered instantly.  "What is it?"
	"One of Kobalix's henchmen.  Could be a poacher too!"
	Chek nodded and followed, drawing a dagger from his belt.
	Waytorn crossed the street and climbed up the side of a 
building with all the ease of a burglar.  Chek followed more slowly 
and with much less agility.  When he got close to the top, Waytorn 
reached down and helped him up to the roof.  Together they 
scampered across the roof, Chek sliding on the ice and nearly falling
 over the edge at one point.
	Below in the alley there was a muffled struggle as the man 
struggled with someone else.  Whoever it was, he was giving the 
assassin a tough time, proving to have been trained in combat.  He
 was however, pushing the man farther into the alley.
	Waytorn pointed at a ladder leading up to the roof so Chek
 would have a way down and slid over the edge, clinging to the wall
 like a spider.  Chek watched him go and shook away the effects of
 a long night of drinking.  He climbed down the ladder until he was 
just above the assassin.
	Waytorn was already down on the ground, creeping slowly 
up behind the assassin.  Chek judged that now was the best time to
 jump, and leapt at the assassin.  His feet contacted with the man's 
chest and pushed him across the narrow alley and into the wall.  The
 Stornium landed on his side on the ice with a curse as he ripped his
 new uniform.
	The assassin jumped forward, his knife flashing as he stabbed
 at Chek's chest.  His hand was kicked aside by Waytorn and the 
dagger landed in the snow beside a young maiden.  Her clothes were 
torn and her one breast was showing.  The assassin was also a rapist,
 unless he was planning on also killing her for some political reason.
	Waytorn jerked the assassin backwards and slammed his head
 into the cold wall.  A second later he kneed the man in the stomach 
and backhanded him over the head as he doubled over in pain and fell 
to the ground beside the rising Chek.  He knelt down on the man's 
back and gave him a two handed blow over the head.
	Chek spat on the corpse as was Stornium custom and kicked 
him aside.  "Sohn auf eine hundin!  He ripped my shirt!"
	Waytorn nodded and pointed at the shivering young maiden. 
Her clothes hung about her in rags and she'd lost her coat somehow. 
 Her hair was disheveled and hung over her tear-stained eyes in clumps.
  Shrugging off his cloak, he offered it to the maiden.
	Only just realizing her immodesty, she thankfully accepted the
 cloak and quickly hid her shivering and shaking body beneath the 
folds of the cloak.  "Merci, Roi Waytorn."  She tried to smile, and 
nearly fainted.
	Chek caught her and helped her to stand.  "Will ye need help 
to get home, Fraulein?  Ye pretty shook up!"  She nodded and the 
Stornium lent her his arm for support.  "I am General Chek of the 
Royal Stornium Army.  My friend here is King Waytorn and you are?"
	"Zsa, uh, Susanne Rougeta."
	Waytorn nodded.  "What district do you live in Mademoiselle?"
  He picked up the assassin's dagger and tucked it in his belt.
	"I live on Beaunid... sorry, I mean Roger street.  They changed
 the name recently."
	"Follow me, I know a short cut."  Waytorn recognized her 
then.  This was the girl who had stood up and proclaimed that scars 
were considered a sign of romantic people in the Empire.  He also 
remembered someone saying she'd stayed at Evicoth for a number of 
years, which would explain the training she'd received there.  "This 
man was one of Kobalix's assassin's.  You're very lucky we managed 
to get here in time.  There is no thank-you necessary though.  I've
 been looking for this guy."
	Susanne smiled weakly but thanked him anyway.  "Merci 
beaucoup, Roi."



		"Great work, Waytorn!" congratulated Prince 
Nebonex.  He clapped the Culprit on the back and waved at Willium 
from across the grand hall of the palace.  The King of Arthian hurried 
over to see what the Prince wanted.  "Waytorn caught a poacher!  
The man's willing to lead us to the poachers' headquarters!"
	"You're sure?  This guy isn't gonna lead us on a wild goose 
chase, is he?" demanded the King.
	"I just got word from Sir Carlo.  Before they had reached 
Fort Phal a minotaur, poacher prisoner escaped along with several 
traitors.  They were tracked to this one point north-east of the Fort 
and it's believed that there could be an underground fortress in the ice
 in that region.  So they sent back for Mathex and more supplies so 
they wouldn't have to dig a couple hundred holes just to find it.  If it's
 there.  Carlo doesn't believe it's really there.  Anyway, Waytorn's 
new prisoner claims the Lair, as he called it, to be to the north-east 
of Fort Phal.  It matches!"
	Willium smiled.  "Looks like we've got the chance to put a 
stop to this war.  Tell Carlo that the new fleet is leaving today and that
 we've switched him to a Iceship called the Snowchisel.  He can start
 interviewing a new crew."
	"I already told him.  I've assigned General Gisoni, Pollex and 
a handful of minotaurs to the Snowchisel also.  Mathex too, he's the 
main reason they came back for more supplies."
	"Excuse me gentlemen," said a young man.  "Are you Roi 
Waytorn?" he asked turning to the Culprit.
	Waytorn nodded slowly.
	"I've come on behalf of my sister and my father, Lord Rougeta
 to invite you, and your friend, General Chek, to my father's estate for
 supper tonight.  My father wants to thank you personally for rescuing
 my sister.  In addition he asks that you become a guest in the household
 for sometime.  He is a bit of a fan as am I."
	"Tell your father that I'd be honoured by his hospitality.  Also 
that I feel somewhat awkward being called a hero.  I never got into 
this business with the idea of becoming a celebrity."
	"Neither did my father," smiled the young man and turned 
away.
	"Huh?" Waytorn questioned.  He shrugged at Nebonex and 
Willium and pursued the young man.  He turned around a corner and 
the Culprit followed.
	The hall was empty.  Slowly a smile crossed the cutthroat's 
scarred face.  Tonight might reveal some pleasant surprises.



		The Snowchisel was a fully rigged clipper with not 
three masts, but four.  There was the foremast, the middlemast, the 
mainmast and the mizzenmast.  The ship was the biggest Carlo had 
ever sailed, requiring at least fifty sailors to handle it properly.  Carlo 
had insisted on eighty.  Then there was the minotaurs and a group 
of knights, totaling a hundred people on the ship.
	There was fifty ships in the flotilla, a hundred men each, 
totaling five thousand people.  Their cargo was enough to support 
them and the ten thousand people living in Fort Phal for several 
months.  They moved at a rapid pace, making the Rat's Nest look 
like a jack ass in comparison with a stallion.  Though they could only
 move as fast as the slowest ship, they were still going at least fifteen
 knots by Carlo's estimate.
	They were about half way to Fort Phal when Carlo looked 
up to see a rip appearing in the main course sail and a second rip in
 the fore course sail.  The two sails were the biggest on the ship and
 already the ship was starting to slow down.  "Lis!" he shouted to a 
long legged, female sailor.  She looked up at the knight.  "Get up 
there and see what's wrong with the course sails!"
	The woman nodded and scampered up the rigging to inspect 
the sail.  Surely the canvas hadn't ripped.  The west wind wasn't that
 strong!  She came back down, holding a crossbow bolt in her hand.
	Carlo swore in old Stornium and ordered the helmsman to 
tack east.  He ran forward, grabbing Lis' hand and leading the way
 to the bow of the ship.  Sure enough there was a rip in the forestaysail
 as well.  Climbing up on the bowsprit, Carlo watched the snow in the
 distance.  It moved occasionally.
	Lis saw it too and ran towards the stern and up the foremast
 until she got to the buntline.  Looking at the horizon, she saw a line
 of moving snow.  "A trench!" she shouted, pointing.  "Tell the 
helmsman to turn!  Or we'll get stuck!"
	An elderly sailor laughed at her.  "We're going to fast, we'll
 go right over the trench!"
	Lis opened her mouth to reply, but a crossbow bolt ripped
 through the staysail beside the man.  "Not if we slow down," she 
shouted.  The ship was already slowing down due to multiple new 
rips in the sails.
	Carlo shouted frantically for the helmsman to tack south, but
 it was too late.  He could see the Folk in the trench raising their 
weapons to attack.  A boulder hurled through the air and struck the
 stem of the bowsprit, causing it to break.  Carlo leapt upwards and
 caught the rigging for the forestaysail and held on for dear life.  The
 bowsprit dangled below him, dragging against the ground and 
slowing the ship down more.
	"Hang on, Carlo," shouted Gisoni.  The huge minotaur, rushed
 up to the bow and stood on what was left of the stem.  He offered his
 hand to the knight.  Carlo thankfully took it and the minotaur hauled
 him aboard.
	"Man the catapult's!  Retreat a half league and set up trench."



		It had started.  Once again they would be caught in 
trench and tunnel warfare with the Ice Folk.  Brenda didn't know much
 about the last Ice War.  Just that it had been disastrous.  The Ice Folk
 were used to the snow and ice, their speed at digging tunnels far better
 than the Kinians and their aim with a longbow tended to be better too.
  Brenda never did get that lesson from Dame Larel so now it was 
Mathex who was teaching her.  Unsuccessfully.
	Their trench was but a hundred yards from the new Folk 
trench and already there'd been several skirmishes with the fast digging
 Folk.  A group of knight's, Brenda included had taken up the task of
 digging a tunnel that hopefully would reach under the enemy tunnels 
and come up on the other side.  There were advantages and 
disadvantages to being behind enemy lines.  The advantages were 
surprising the enemy from behind, gaining access to enemy territory, 
sabotaging enemy tunnels.  Unfortunately the disadvantages were being
 caught behind enemy lines with no chance of reinforcements, revealing
 a useful tunnel to the enemy and exposing the Kinian's tunnels to 
sabotage as well.
	Mathex, however had devised several traps that would aid in 
that.  One of these was a smoke tunnel.  If the enemy ventured down
 the wrong tunnel, the one meant as a trap, they would be caught in a
 ice cell and choke to death from the smoke from the petroleum lamp
 left in the cell.  A similar one would have a pit at the end of the tunnel.
  Since they probably couldn't see from lack of light, they'd stumble
 right into it and be trapped.
	They had unloaded the catapults from the Iceships and were 
continuing a barrage of rocks and ice at the enemy, though the Ice 
Folk were concentrating their efforts on their tunnels.  The artillery 
wouldn't hold out, everyone knew that from the beginning so they 
were determined to block the Ice Folk's attempt by smashing their 
tunnels.
	About all of this, Brenda wasn't really concerned.  She 
continued to dig her tunnels and passages through the snow and ice. 
 It got extremely hot down in the tunnels with no ventilation and 
sweating under several layers of cloaks and a thick woolen sweater 
she'd bought last year during Winterfest.  Since she was isolated and 
she was sweating, she figured it wouldn't hurt to take some clothes 
off.  No one would see.  She continued to sweat and eventually she 
had only her sweater on with the sleeves rolled up around her elbows.
  Soon she began to wonder if she should take the thick thing off too.
  She was sweating buckets it seemed and it was stuffy down in the 
tunnel.
	Looking around to make absolutely sure no one else had 
ventured into this tunnel, she striped off the heavy sweater and tossed
 it aside.  The cold air felt good against her heaving breasts and she 
took a deep breath before she resumed digging with her shovel.


		Carlo had nothing else to do.  His ship was not in 
the best of shape and he couldn't go anywhere anyway.  So he 
joined the tunnel diggers.  He however chose a different route.  
Straight down.  If he went down far enough he knew he'd get to a 
layer of snow that had been there for centuries.  He also recalled 
Mathex or somebody else saying that this layer was warmer than the
 rest, being closer to the core of the earth or something like that.  
What ever the case, the knight trusted whatever logic that said that 
the layer would be softer, almost slush and real easy to dig in.
	The snow and ice seemed to go on for ever though and his 
pit was getting larger and larger with apparently no end.  At one point
 he began to question if he was correct in his logic, but continued on
 stubbornly when he reached the fifteen-foot deep mark and decided
 to at least go to twenty.
	He fell through the snow at the seventeen-foot mark and 
ended up in stuck in what felt like water, not slush.  "Halp!" he 
screamed, the cold starting to get to him.
	Pollex, Gisoni's Lieutenant, appeared at the top of the pit. 
 "What's wrong?" he shouted.
	"I fell through. I'm stuck.  Help me out will you?  I'm going
 to freeze to death!"
	The minotaur grumbled and climbed carefully down the pit 
and hauled the knight out of the freezing slush.  He looked at the hole
 at the bottom of the pit and stood wondering.  "Why isn't that stuff 
frozen?"
	"I don't know.  Go get Mathex.  If we start pulling that stuff 
out we'll have a super tunnel that will reach all the way beyond enemy
 lines."
	Pollex shrugged and went to fetch Mathex.
	The minotaur scientist built a bucket system with a crank.  
Soon they had water to drink and cook with, without having to wait
 until the ice melted. in the pot so they could start the meal.  In addition
 they now had a fastly growing tunnel that stretched in all directions 
far below the Ice Folk's tunnels.
	The layer was perhaps five feet thick.  Carlo knew this because
 his feet had touched the bottom.  How far it went in all directions he 
didn't know.  The water seemed to be filling up just as fast as he and
 several other knights were taking it out.  Perhaps it went on for ever.
  They may never empty it
	Meanwhile Mathex was working on several other projects, 
including building a siphoning system to distribute the water more 
quickly.



		It wasn't a human who saw her working half naked
 in the tunnel, Brenda thanked.  She didn't mind a minotaur though.
  The Minotaur General Gisoni only blushed and looked down.  "You
 look awfully tired.  Sir Carlo has apparently dug a well.  Would you
 like a drink?"
	"Actually," said Brenda, stretching immodestly.  "I'd like a 
cup of Colnic coffee but I doubt we have any."  She set the shovel 
aside.  "You gave me a bit of a surprise there.  I almost thought you
 were a human!  I'd be pretty embarrassed!"
	"I won't tell anyone.  In fact, I'll tell others that I've given you
 a special task and that you're not to be disturbed so you'll have your
 privacy."
	"Thanks.  Do you think there's any Kinian wine around here
 to drink?"
	The minotaur shook his head but reached inside his uniform 
and handed her a small bottle of Minotaur Vodka.
	"Thanks again," she said and took a drink.  She handed the 
bottle back and went back to digging.  "Send Pollex or somebody to
 tell me when it's time to eat."
	The minotaur nodded and left.
	It was a half hour later when she noticed a crack of light 
seeping through the end of the tunnel.  It wasn't the ice reflecting the 
torch light either.  Getting down on her hands and knees she began 
digging frantically, determined to see if she'd reached the other side.
  She poked her hand through the hole to pull more snow out of the
 way.
	A dark skinned hand grasped hers and pulled her forward 
through the hole.  Snow crowded in around her and froze her naked
 skin at the touch.  It felt like someone stuffing snow down her back
 only worse.  She scrambled to her feet when she was through the 
hole and yanked her hand away.
	A young Folk warrior stood before her, his hands around a
 wooden spear as he pointed it at her.  He was quite surprised to find
 a woman, let alone half naked in the dead of winter.  His hesitation 
cost him though as Brenda kicked the spear aside and pinned him 
against the ice wall of the tunnel he too had been digging.  She clamped
 a hand over his mouth and muffled his shout.
	"Sorry," she said in the Folk Tongue, though there was many
 different Tongues.  She hoped she'd spoken the one this warrior 
knew.  "Be quiet or die."  She unclamped her hand.
	"You shall die Kinian," he replied in the Tongue.  Brenda had
 chosen the right Tongue though she didn't dwell on that thought and 
blocked his arm as he tried to punch her.
	"You are my captive, boy.  Start marching," she ordered, 
knocking him into the wall and twisting her fist into his stomach in a 
fashion she knew was very painful though it did no real damage.  She
 drew a stone dagger from his belt and held it up to his throat.  She'd
 left her own with her pile of clothes.
	The man was no more than thirteen winters old and she knew
 it was considered a great shame to be beaten by the enemy, especially
 in this society, by a woman.  A half naked one at that.  To surrender
 was to disgrace one's family and his tribe's honour.  The boy would 
never be able to live out this disgrace and death would be a much more 
honourable way to die.  But he couldn't even wiggle out from under 
this powerful woman's pin.  Even though he felt it most pleasurable to 
have her naked breasts pressed against him, he wanted out.  Or at 
least be the one to do the pinning.
	So he decided to go along with the hope that he'd be able to 
do when on the her side of the now completed tunnel.  Then he would
 sneak into the enemy lines and kill them all.  He'd be a hero.  Feigning
 reluctance, he said: "I will go if you promise no torture."
	Brenda nodded and slowly unpinned him.  She motioned him
 towards the hole with his dagger.  He crawled through the hole 
carefully.  When she reached the other side he'd be ready.  But so 
would Brenda.  She knew roughly what his plans were and knew 
she'd be quite helpless when she crawled through the hole.
	Once he was through she followed, but when he grabbed 
the stone dagger she didn't struggle but let him have it.  Then she 
went forward with all the seductiveness she could manage in such 
a desperate situation.
	To say the boy was surprised when this woman practically 
launched herself at him tearing off the remainder of her clothes and 
starting to undo his was an understatement.  Shocked out of his mind
 was better, even if it was something like what he'd planned.  He 
dropped the dagger and started to help her take off his clothes.
	No sooner had the stone dagger hit the ice packed floor had 
Brenda scooped it up and held it up to the boy's throat.  "Get off me!"
 she ordered in the Tongue.
	The boy lay there on top of her, wondering how she'd 
managed to trick him.  His face flushed angrily but he did as told.  He
 grumbled insults in his own tongue and spat at her as he retied his
 clothes.
	Brenda kept her distance as she pulled her pants back up and
 pulled on a cloak to hide her nakedness.  "March," she ordered.



		A short little fellow met Waytorn at the door and 
nodded at him and Chek.  "You are Waytorn and Chek, I presume?"
	"Yes, we are?" replied Chek.  "Pleased to meet you Herr?"
	"Maurice, Monsieur.  I am the butler.  Please come in. I have 
heard much about you two," said the short fellow.  He smiled and 
scratched his chin.
	"Most of it bad, I'm afraid," said Chek, entering and wiping 
his boots on the welcome mat.  A maid stepped forward to help him
 take them off.
	"In this business, it usually is," muttered Waytorn, entering 
behind the General and wiping his boots on the mat.  A second maid
 came forward and helped him to take them off.
	"This way please," said Maurice, motioning them to follow.  
Waytorn and Chek fell into line behind the man.  The architecture 
within the huge mansion was twenty-fifth century baroque while on the 
outside it had been twenty-fourth century Kinian gothic.  The number 
of servants and the gold and platinum furnishings in this household 
rivaled King Searle's palace.  It was obvious this Lord Rougeta was 
very well to do.  It's amazing there wasn't a line up of burglars outside
 taking turns to get inside, thought Waytorn.
	Maurice stopped before a heavy Arthian Oak door and 
turned the silver plated handle.  The door swung open and the two 
guests stared upon what was the most lavishly decorated room either 
had ever seen, far surpassing the palaces of Kinian, Arthian, Colnic 
and Stornium.  There was but a single candle in the entire room, but it
 shone like there was a thousand.  The room, floor, walls, furnishings 
and even the paintings framed on the walls had either platinum or silver
 in it.  The room was like a giant mirror and as such the one candle was
 reflected what seemed like a million times over.  Out of this shining 
brilliance walked a tall, middle-aged man with a platinum cane.
	The light was fairly bright and it was hard to make out the man
 but as he came closer, Waytorn made out a small nose, steel blue 
eyes, and a handsome face.  The King Culprit had been suspecting 
that he knew this man, but didn't.  He'd never seen him before in his 
life.  "Greetings Roi Waytorn, General Chek," said Lord Rougeta.  "I 
am Pavo Rougeta.  You may call me Pavo."
	"Thank you Pavo," replied Waytorn, glancing at Chek with a 
shrug.  "We are honoured by your presence and thank you again for
 inviting us."
	"It is but a token.  You helped my daughter and I wish to 
return the favour.  I wish to learn more about you.  Come," he said, 
gesturing down the hallway.  "We have much in common."
	"Indeed," said Waytorn under his breath.  "I just wish I knew
 what it was."



		"I've always prided myself upon my ability to estimate
 a man and despite your premature gray hair, Waytorn, I'd say you're
 about thirty-three or thirty-four.  Am I correct?" asked Pavo from 
across the lavishly decorated dining table."
	Waytorn looked up, surprised at how accurate a guess.  
"Thirty-one," he replied.
	"Marvelous!"  Pavo laughed and took a drink of Ambrosia. 
 "Tell me. is the story of your unreturned love true?  Or is that but 
another bards tale?"
	"No milord, that is true.  One of the few that is, I'm afraid. 
What be your interest in it?"
	"I too suffered from unreturned love in my younger days.  I-"
	"You keep saying that we have much in common.  Your son 
is an escape artist, your daughter has been trained in combat to the 
point that she is capable of holding off an experience assassin and 
this house is testimony that you're half as rich as I am, in which case
 I lost track half way when counting how rich I am.  Who are you?"
	"You don't know me?"
	"No, I honestly don't."
	"Before Hitlot put his plan into action I was an assassin of his.
  The unusual thing was that I suffered just as you do now from 
unreturned love.  It wasn't until I was in the throes of battle that I 
realized that all this time I'd been in love with one of my comrades and
 she in love with me.  She too had suffered briefly from unreturned 
love," Pavo smiled at his wife, a beautiful red-headed woman with 
brilliant bright eyes and a figure most women her age would kill for.
  "I disappeared during the battle and returned to Hitlot's castle where
 I began stealing my Lord's massed wealth.  Everything you see here
 was once his.  Did you never wonder where all Hitlot's wealth went
 when he died?"
	"I still don't know who you are?"
	"I had a nick name once.  Do you recall some of the more 
famous assassins?"
	"There was the Paladin Assassin, though he was called the 
Lion back then, Hawk, Scorpion, he's one of my best men now, the
 Panther, Dirk, Bloodhound, Cobra-"
	"Whoa!  Slow down!  You said it!"
	"Bloodhound?  I killed the Bloodhound two years ago when
 he tried to claim the Crime Throne!"
	"No!" shouted Zsa Zsa.  "He's the Panther. And mother is Dirk."
	"But they both died-" blurted Waytorn before he realized
 what had actually occurred.  "Oh!"
	"Now that you know who I am, Roi Waytorn, I shall tell 
you something.  I was recently paid a visit by one of Kobalix's men.  
He wanted to hire me to kill Lord Redhawk.  They're very concerned
 about Lord Redhawk for some reason.  I refused and had the man 
killed."  Pavo's son grinned.  "It is obvious the new leader of Kobalix's
 men got pretty mad and that's why he sent that assassin after my 
daughter and another one that showed up in my house earlier this 
week and is currently buried beneath the rose bushes out in the 
garden.

Chapter Ten
		"Why are you telling me this?" demanded Waytorn.
	Pavo laughed and drew a piece of parchment from his velvet
 vest.  "The cutthroat sent to kill me wasn't very good and it would 
appear that he was also forgetful.  He had to use a map just to reach 
his base, which he calls the Lair."  He handed Waytorn the map.
	"We already know where their base is," stated Chek.  "I-"
	"But we don't have a map as good as this," said Waytorn,
 showing it to the General.  "Right down to where the latrines are!"
	"Okay, but what's this right here?" asked the Stornium pointing
 to a spot labeled 'restricted'.
	"I believe that's a mine," answered Pavo.  "They're conducting
 a slaving operation up there and are using slaves to mine whatever it 
is they've found.  It's restricted because once you go there they never
 let you out.  The slaves likely have diseases, the scarlet plague maybe.
  Who knows?"
	"I don't want to know.  If this is the last of Kobalix's forces, 
my men are going there," replied Waytorn, tucking the map in his belt.
  "Thank you, Lord Rougeta.  I think I'll report this to my people right
 now, if you'll excuse me."
	"No, I won't," said Pavo.
	"What?"
	"You are not excused.  We still have several matters to 
discuss," explained the Dirk.  She smiled disarmingly.  "You are our 
guest and we will not have you worrying about that war."  She glanced 
at Zsa Zsa.  "Is it not true that you wish to retire?"
	"Ya right!" snorted Waytorn.  "You want to see how fast every
 killer in a hundred league radius can start shooting at me?  The only 
way I quit is if someone kills me.  There's never been a crime lord 
that's stayed alive once he announces his abdication."
	"There's always a first time for everything," commented Pavo's
 son.
	"So you think I should retire?  What then?  Do nothing?"
	"Is there any reason why you can't get married?" asked Lady
 Rougeta.
	Waytorn nearly laughed and cried at the same time.  Then he 
noticed she was serious.  He thought about it and in light of his recent
 trips to the Timothy's Club, he had to agree that it had been on his 
mind, though seemingly a very distant and impossible thing.  What was
 he to say?  That he doubted it would ever happen?  "I don't know," he
 replied, trying desperately to find something in the turmoil that was his
 mind and cling to it.
	"Would you like to start a courtship?"
	Waytorn looked up to see it was Zsa Zsa you'd spoken.  She 
looked quite beautiful right then and as he thought about it, he could 
find absolutely nothing wrong about her.  She seemed perfect.  Smart,
 beautiful, a fair fighter...   He dared to wonder what she looked like 
naked and banished the thought when he realized he was staring.  "Yes,
 I would.  Do you know of anyone who is also looking for a husband?"
	"I do," she replied.
	With those two words, Waytorn's life had turned off the violent,
 dangerous highway of a crime lord to a well trodden path of matrimony.
  He felt it happening even as he asked her who and his excitement at
 finally finding someone when she said: "Me."


		"They should have been back by now," announced
 Brigadier-General Victoria.  "I fear that they've run into the Ice Folk
 and that the war has started.  Likely, they're fighting a tunnel battle 
even as we speak.  Dillard hasn't found any entrance and the auger
 that Roreed and Eluth had built isn't exactly the best way to dig a 
hole."
	"So?" said Larry.  "What's your point?"
	"The point is we're not doing anything.  So tomorrow, I want
 everybody, and I do mean everybody, to go outside for a bit of a 
festival.  We're going to have a hole digging contest with a prize of a 
thousand silver pieces for the biggest hole.  Everyone will want to be
 in the festival.  In addition, we'll get that fortress found, if there is one,"
 she smiled at Dillard.
	Colonel Pat looked around the meeting table and saw the 
dubious expressions of the commanding officers and senior knights. 
 "I happen to think it's a splendid idea.  The people here need something
 to boost their morale."
	"True," agreed one of the knights, "but a thousand silver?  
That's a lot!"
	"The people need incentive.  Don't worry, there's plenty more 
where that came from and it will find it's way back to us in the end 
anyway," explained Victoria.



		The slush had frozen partly during the night, but a quick
 jab with a spear and it broke.  Mathex installed his siphon and the 
water in the hole seemed to be actually going down.  Carlo wondered 
how much water they'd already drained from the hole.  It was to the
 point that they had started filling buckets with water, letting it freeze
 and then using the bucket-shaped chunks of ice as bricks for a 
defensive wall.
	The boy Brenda had captured turned out to be a son of a
 chief.  The Ice Folk's digging had become desperate and there had 
been more bloody skirmishes.  The tunnel Brenda and the boy had 
dug was being sealed off completely with water thanks to Mathex's 
siphon system.  The boy on the other hand was under tight guard in 
a tunnel now reserved for prisoners.  The boy was trying to dig his 
way out but was having a tough time with only his fingernails against 
the ice walls.
	Carlo decided to take a visit to Brenda's new tunnel she was
 working on.  He stopped just around a corner when he saw why 
Gisoni had warned him not to disturb her progress.  She was naked 
except for a sweaty tunic that clung to her ample curves, a kilt and 
boots.  She bent over and he got a very good view of her buttocks. 
 His loins felt like they'd been set on fire and he gasped in surprise.
	He wasn't the only one.  Brenda turned swiftly with a gasp
 of her own and held her shovel before her like a weapon.  Carlo 
quickly looked down, feeling his face flush crimson.  "Sorry, Dame
 Brenda.  I merely wanted to stop by and ask how you were doing.
  I had no idea..."  He stopped when she placed a finger to his lips 
and looked up.
	Brenda removed the finger.  "I know.  I wasn't always a killer,
 you know?  From the sound of your gasp, I'd say I was paid a 
compliment.  Did you know where Waytorn found me?"
	Carlo blushed but refused to reply.  He looked at her face 
and tried not to look down.
	"A brothel," she said slowly.  "Did you also know that when 
you first walked into the antechamber at Blackaxe's castle that I 
recognized you."
	Carlo stared at her.  How could she have known?  It was
 true he had visited brothels on several occasions after getting back
 from a long trip surveying the Bone Sea.  Every sailor did which was
 why there was a brothel at every port in Stornium.  But he hadn't 
went that often for someone to actually recognize him!
	"You were my first customer!  And the nicest!"
	This was obviously a long time ago.  Carlo hadn't had a clue,
 but he wasn't concerned with that right now.  What he was concerned
 was that Brenda was rubbing her body against his and kissing his lips.
  The fact that he was kissing back was enough for him to abandon 
his dignity and feel up and down her back with his hands.  He slipped
 them into her kilt and felt her silky buttocks.
	Brenda ran her fingers through his blond hair and gripped his
 head as he squeezed her buttocks.  She slipped a hand down and 
began pulling off the layers of clothes until she reached his bare chest.
  She ran her fingers over his sinewy muscles and began unbuckling 
his belt.
	Carlo lifted her off the ground and set her down on the pile 
of clothes that lay on the ice floor of the tunnel.  The cold air gave him
 goose bumps on his skin as he lifted the soggy tunic up and over the 
Dame's head.  He gazed upon her naked breasts for the first time.  
Or was it the second time?  "Gott in himmel," he swore lustily in old 
Stornium as she stroked him.  Their lips met fiercely as he gathered 
up her kilt around her waist.
	He discovered the portal he'd been looking for and helped her
 to guide himself into it.  It was soft and warm inside and he felt her 
tighten and loosen her muscles.
	She drew a deep breath and guided him further inwards.  
Suddenly she gasped as the knight pulsed inside her flesh and pulled
 him closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder.  Carlo began
 to thrust into her soft, silky flesh.  She grabbed his buttocks and 
clung to him desperately.  It had been a long time since she had felt 
him inside her.
	Carlo felt her wrap her legs around him as he gathered 
urgency.  He began thrusting harder and faster.  It was now that the 
former commodore recognized her.  She'd been but eighteen, he 
about nineteen and just the rank of Lieutenant-Commander on his
 first trip to a brothel.  He'd lost his virginity that day with her.
	She leaned back and pressed her lips to his, her tongue 
delving into his mouth in a kiss she'd learned in Kinian during her 
training as a killer.  It was then that she felt herself explode for the 
second time in her life.  The first time in a dimly lit brothel with the 
same man that was here now inside her and having the same raw 
emotions.
	He felt her fluids running over him.  The knight exploded
 inside the killer.  His muscles went slack as he felt it and his mind 
whirled in emotions of ecstasy and remembering that day six years
 ago in a brothel together.  The two exhausted and sweat stained 
knights lay there, comforted by each other's presence, lips and 
body heat.
	Carlo stopped to wonder how long Brenda had been wanting
 this, telling her that although he hadn't remembered their first 
encounter until now, that he had been, from the start, very attracted 
to her.  Why had she waited until now?  They could have done this
 a dozen times before on the trip north from Stornium.
	"I knew you didn't recognize me.  It was six years ago after
 all.  I was sure that you wouldn't dare approach me with anything 
of this manner.  It wasn't until you showed up today and saw me 
that I really had any opportunity."  She smiled up at him.
	Then they heard it.  They hadn't been paying much attention
 to anything else other than themselves or they would have noticed 
it already.  Scraping, sort of like someone was digging in their 
direction.  From the Ice Folk's direction.
	"Dumbkopf!" swore Carlo, getting to his feet and reaching 
for his sword.  He pulled on his pants and buckled the belt.  The 
phrase Carlo's father kept warning him as a child 'getting caught with
 one's pants down' seemed fairly ironic right now.
	Rolling over, Brenda grabbed her tunic and pulled it over her 
head frantically.  She could see a faint crack of light in the tunnel 
where the sound was coming from.  Voices, three or four of them.
  She scrambled to her feet, her sweat-covered kilt clinging to her 
thighs and legs.  When they come through the hole that will be as far
 as they get, she thought, scooping up her halberd and taking up a 
position on one side of the growing hole.
	Carlo held his sword before him in readiness as he took up
 position on the other side of the hole.  He waited as it widened.  
Sooner or later one of the Ice Folk would venture through the hole.
	A head came through the hole and Brenda promptly chopped
 it off.  It fell to the ground and rolled past Carlo's feet.  The knight 
stared, finding it hard to believe Brenda had been so merciless.  A 
puddle of warm blood spread from the headless body across the 
frozen floor.  
	There was swearing from the other side of the hole and the
 snow burst forth showering the two knights with it.  An Ice Folk 
warrior, a huge seven foot one, thrashed around in the snow, clubbing
 Carlo on the side of the head with an arm.  The Stornium was throw
 to floor and he got up angrily thrusting his sword at the warrior.
	He missed and got a different warrior who was coming 
through the now seven foot tall gap between the two tunnels.  The
 huge warrior lay on the ground with his neck snapped backwards.  
But where was Brenda?
	Carlo saw a piece of blond hair on the other side of the gap
 and knew with certainty that she'd went through the gap.  He finished
 the warrior in front of him off with a quick couple jabs with the tip 
of his sword and thrust the body aside.  Another warrior stepped 
forward and Carlo slammed the hilt of his sword into his face, 
knocking him senseless.
	He hurried through the gap to find five warriors between him
 and Brenda.  This was going to take some time, he thought as he 
backed through the gap so only one warrior could come at him at
 a time.



		Brenda smashed a fist into the closest warrior's chin 
and whirled around bringing her foot up to smash into the man's neck,
 breaking it.  She plunged forward, her halberd flying out and catching
 a Folk with the axe end.  Twisting it around she plunged the point 
into his chest and jerked it around to parry a spear thrust.  She 
rammed the butt end into the man's groin and pulled back to get a 
breath.
	The Ice Folk were having a huge problem just getting near 
her.  Now as eight men lay lifeless on the floor they were hesitant to 
come any closer than they had to.  A foolish warrior came forward 
with a bone saber and the killer stabbed at him.  He parried and
 received a blow in the chest from the butt end of the halberd plus
 a kick in the stomach that sent him flying back into his comrades.  
He got up angrily and plunged forward, his own momentum driving 
the halberd's point through his chest.
	The other Folk had ventured closer as she'd been busy
 fighting and now she was caught in a semi circle of spears.  They 
were too close.  She crouched lower and swung the halberd in a 
wide arc clipping the spear points off and knocking them away as 
they closed in threatening.  An overhead swing caught one warrior in 
the chest.
	It was stuck.  The warriors grinned and crowded in around 
her.  Big mistake they soon realized when her feet and arms went into
 a flurry of punches, kicks and jabs.  The killer snatched a broken 
spear from ice floor and jabbed it into their faces, her feet coming in
 an arc to break one of their necks.  She stood back and leapt 
upwards into a somersault.  She landed on the other side of the 
stunned warriors and jabbed the broken tip of the spear into their 
backs before they could turn around.
	Desperately she looked around to discover no more warriors
 remained except for the one Carlo was fighting.  There was over 
twenty men scattered around the cave, most of them already dead,
 some halfway there and two or three unconscious.  Sighing wearily 
she placed a foot on a warriors chest for leverage and yanked her 
halberd free.
	"You okay?" asked Carlo, rushing over and gathering her 
into his arms.  "I was so worried about you!"
	"I'm fine.  Not a scratch."
	"You're sure?  You're all right?"
	"Yes, I'm fine.  Do you want me to take off my clothes so 
you can check and make sure?"
	"Well-"
	"It's not like you haven't seen it already?"
	"Yes, but that's not what I meant!"
	"Oh, really.  You worry too much.  I can take on twice this
 many and still come out with only a few scratches."
	"But-"
	Brenda ripped his shirt off and tugged his belt in the direction
 of her half of the tunnel where they'd laid together not long ago.  
"Com'on silly.  Don't you want to?"
	Carlo looked down at the carnage and death surrounding the
 two of them and looked up.  His expression was one of horror.  
"What are you?  Have you no sense of what you've just done?"
	"Of course I do, but I've been trained to ignore it so that it 
won't bother me and give me nightmares."
	Carlo wanted to, but not now.  It was too soon after too 
much death.  He was also too shocked as well that she could even 
think of that right now.  "We better go tell Gisoni about this skirmish. 
 Get dressed," he said, removing her hand from his belt.
	Brenda frowned, disappointed, but nodded in agreement.  
"Later."



		Grandee Rodrigo of Cherte and Graf Johann von 
Deltex were the slaves that found Rades at the bottom of the pit 
beside a shovel their captors had tossed down.  What concerned 
Johann was that the man's left eye had been sewed shut to prevent 
disease.  It would be a huge shock to the young man when he woke
 up to discover that they had torn out his eye for the Lairmaster's 
collection.  That's if he wasn't awake when it was torn out or had 
since woken up.  The old Stornium motioned Rodrigo to help him 
carry the young man back to the tunnel where the two men slept.
	Rodrigo was from the little known island of Cherte which 
was west of Colnic.  A killer that had ventured to the main land to 
seek aid for his financially troubled family.  The matador had got a 
job from Kobalix for spying on King Waytorn's men.  But that had
 went sour when the minotaur was killed by Wynic Doxon and he'd 
become a slave here in the Ice Lands when he came to demand 
payment from the Lairmaster.
	Johann however had been here for the last twenty years.  
Ever since he'd ventured north to visit relatives in southern Kinian. 
 He'd gotten lost in the mountains and got caught by the early underlings
 of then just starting out Kobalix.  There was a different Lairmaster 
back then.  Ten years ago however he was replaced by a younger, 
crueler man.  This man liked to beat his captives before throwing 
them down in the mining pit.  He only ripped their eyes out when they
 attacked him or refused to cooperate.  Rodrigo was lucky to have
 only suffered a broken leg and have a permanent limp for the rest of
 his life.
	The young man had been stripped of his uniform and armour
 so he could no longer have any proof that he was indeed a Lieutenant,
 and given a ragged, flea infested fur tunic, pants and boots with holes
 in them.  The fleas would die off in the cold soon enough and the man
 would have to get used to his clothes.  The only way one gained new
 clothes down here is if the old wearer died.
	Food for the slaves and dung from the stables above to burn
 was tossed down at noon.  Rodrigo would have to hurry back to the 
pit if he expected to beat anyone to the sack they dropped down and 
get enough food for himself, the old Stornium and this new lad.
	The lad groaned and stirred as they set him down in a pile of
 rags that served as a pallet.
	"Go get the food," said Johann, speaking Escherten.  He knew 
only old Stornium and Escherten, having long forgotten the common
 tongue in his twenty years of isolation.  He spoke softly to the young
 man in old Stornium, hoping the young man would understand.
	Rades heard him and understood.  He was however in too 
much pain to reply something the old man would understand.  He 
thought he would pass out from the pain in his head.  He knew dimly
 what had happened and was horrified that he was still alive.  He 
opened his eye and looked at the old man.  "Danke schon," he 
thanked the old man.
	"Dein wilkommst," Johann replied.  He held out a hand 
politely.  "Graf Johann von Deltex."
	Rades woke up completely, ignoring the fiery pain in his 
head.  This was by far too important for him to pass out now.  
"Lieutenant Rades von Deltex," he replied.  "I am pleased to meet 
you milord, though I fear I bear you ill news," he said in old Stornium.
	"Ill news?" questioned Johann, a fair bit shocked by the 
sudden urgency in the young man's voice and the fact he was sitting
 up already.  "What has happened?"
	"First, how long have you been here milord Graf?"
	"Almost twenty years," Johann replied somberly, realizing 
much has probably changed in twenty years.
	"Lord Staves took over Castle Deltex after your disappearance.
  You've heard of the recent war with the Minotaur Empire?  Kobalix's
 Quest?"
	"Ya."
	"Castle Deltex was besieged milord and it was..." Rades trailed
 off and he started to cry.  The pain was so unbearable and the 
addition of his memories now shattered by the loss of Deltex was
 like a blunt blade tearing around in his heart.  "Everyone is dead.  
You and I are the last of the people of Deltex.  It was massacred."
	"Impossible!  That castle was one of the best, we had a 
thousand men stationed there when I was there!"
	"Two thousand milord.  We were outnumbered by far.  The
 minotaur army counted 600 thousand.  We could not hope to win. 
 It is said there was not one minotaur dead from the battle due to 
new weapon technology.  They fired crossbow bolts into the towers 
and onto the parapets.  They splintered on contact releasing a 
poisonness gas that killed everyone."
	"How many minotaurs died in Kobalix's Quest?" Johann 
demanded angrily.
	"That figure is not known milord.  Over a million people died
 in the war, about half of them were minotaurs."
	"Gott in himmel!" swore Johann.  He sat thoughtfully for a
 long time.
	Rades looked around at his surroundings.  The tunnel was bare 
of any decorations.  There was a pile of dung burning at the mouth of
 the tunnel.  There was a Stornium Shepherd lying on it's side by the
 fire.  He turned around and looked the other way.  The tunnel went 
on for what seemed forever in six different directions.  "Is there anyway 
out of this place?" he asked, forgetting to speak in old Stornium.
	"No," replied Rodrigo, returning with a armful of meat, hard
 bread and dried fruit meant to keep the slaves from getting scurvy 
and dying.  "There is no way out other than the pit which is guarded 
and the sides are too slippery anyway.  We've tried digging our way 
out, but we don't get any food unless we fill the quota with the platinum
 we mine here."  Rades found his accent strange, almost beautiful.
	"In the snow?"
	"You've heard of how glaciers pick up rocks and stones as
 they move?  Well, there's platinum in this ice.  Sometimes even some
 iron or oro."
	"Oro?"
	"My friend here is from an island west of Colnic called 
Cherte," explained Johann in old Stornium.  "In his language, oro
 means gold."
	"Okay."
	"Pardon?" asked Johann.
	Rades remembered Okay was a fairly recent word and was 
used mostly in Arthian and Kinian to mean fine.  "Fine," he corrected
 in old Stornium.  He could tell this was going to take some getting 
used to.


		The second flotilla included a ship called the Icicle. 
 The captain however was not in the army, in fact he was supposed
 to be retired.  It had taken a fair chunk of Ambrosia to convince 
Savin to command the first Icewarship to be built, but in the end he
 was quite satisfied with the ship and it's five hundred men crew.  
This ship dwarfed all the other ships in the flotilla and was a virtual
 fortress.  It wasn't as fast as the others, but it's sheer bulk and seven 
masts including wing sails, an idea of Savin's that increased the speed
 by about half a knot.
	They made it to the front easily with the increased speed of 
any Iceship, but Savin wasn't planning on stopping there.  And neither
 was any ship in the flotilla.  The plan was to cross over the no man's
 land and into the enemy trenches maybe even over the trenches if the
 ship's speed was great enough.
	Word had been sent ahead to the trenches to prepare to send
 some of their own ships across the no man's land.  They hoped to 
gain the enemy's trenches and force a retreat, if not a complete route.
  Already Savin could see the flags marking the Kinian trenches.  
There was over eighty yards between them and the Folk's trenches.
	The first flotilla had left a spot in their trenches full of snow and 
ice to serve as a bridge for the ships to cross over into the no man's 
land.  Already the ships of the first flotilla were crossing the bridge in 
a file.  Savin ordered the helmsman to get in line behind the Snowstorm.
	It was over in a minute and the Icicle was halfway across no 
man's land.  Cross bow bolts flying from the enemy trenches  got
 lodged in the ship's hull a few making rips in the ship's sails though it 
didn't slow down much due to the ship's huge bulk and increased 
momentum.  It rammed right over the enemy trenches easily.
	"Tack south," shouted Savin to the helmsman.  The ship turned
 south and Savin pointed to cross back over the trenches.  The ship 
turned west and then back south again as they crossed the trenches, 
barely.  They tacked south for awhile and turned east again, gaining 
momentum and crossed the trenches again.
	"The Folk are retreating," shouted a sailor.
	Waytorn, one of Savin's few passengers came forward to
 watch.  "It would appear that we've one a major battle captain.  I
 meet you here later to celebrate, at the moment I have to find 
someone."  He walked away, a troop of twenty lean cutthroats 
following.
	Savin nodded and ordered the sailors to bring her to the halt.
  They'd have to confer with the other's before they could decide on
 where to start digging the new trenches.  If that plan on digging new
 trenches.  They might decide to take another charge at the Folk's new 
trenches or even go to Fort Phal.



		The cutthroat looked around the empty stables.  He 
was late for the hole digging contest.  Then he noticed something.  
Pothax bent over to pick up the discarded crossbow.  He didn't recall
 seeing it there before.  Where'd it come from and why?  Then he 
noticed it lacked the crosspiece.  Memories of Snowdancer's 
companion pointing the weapon at him and the cold fear he'd felt 
told him not to touch it.
	He received a heavy blow to the head and fell to the dung 
covered floor.  He struggled to keep his consciousness as he saw 
Snowdancer and her warrior companion lean over him.
	"Pothax?" asked a voice.  It sounded like Kerry.  He turned
 to face her and saw the Ice Folk warrior smack her across the face
 and throw her over his shoulder.  He struggled to stand up but 
Snowdancer knocked him over the head with a Katunka.
	"What now?" asked Blackthunder as he secured his hold 
around the maiden.  "We did not plan this?" he said in the Tongue, 
pointing at the Princess.
	"Bring her along.  She may make a good ransom.  If not, we
 can always throw her in the pit," replied Snowdancer, dragging the
 cutthroat towards the cat-sled.



		They didn't find any underground fortress.  Nevertheless
 the boost to the morale was encouraging and the fact that Captain Slor,
 Eluth and Roreed won the prize for the deepest pit and later agreed to
 give most of it back to the treasury was not a complete waste.  
Victoria felt sorry that Dillard had been wrong but she encouraged him
 to keep looking.  The entrance was probably hard to find and farther
 to the north-east.
	It was Kerry who first noticed Pothax and her sister were 
missing.  She assumed the worst, thinking Pothax had betrayed her
 and slept with her own sister.  However a search proved that neither
 were around and she went to Victoria to report them missing.  She 
stopped outside the Brigadier's office and eavesdropped.
	"They carried them in a cat-sled out the north gate.  Since
 there was so few people here in the fort, no one noticed but the 
guards.  They struggled with the guards, though they got away due
 to the cougars they had with them," explained a warrior from within.
  It sounded like Captain Slor.
	"Oui, especially that albino one!" added a second voice, 
probably the captain that had been guarding the gate.
	"That sounds like Snowdancer's cougar," said Wynic.  "Have 
you sent someone to track them?"
	"Yes," answered Captain Slor.  "Dillard, Eluth, Roreed, and
 Lieutenant Adrienne went after them.
	Someone was running down the ice hallway, making a huge 
racket.  Kerry backed away from the door.  She didn't want to be 
caught eavesdropping...
	Adrienne ran around the corner and nearly ran into the 
Princess.  "We found the fortress entrance," she gasped.  Kerry's 
heart leapt with joy at her words.  Together they burst into Victoria's 
office, both of them talking at once and pointing excitingly.
	"Quiet!" shouted Victoria.  "Adrienne, what's going on?" she 
demanded.
	The Lieutenant took a deep breath.  "We found the entrance. 
 Dillard nearly fell into it, that's how hard it is to see.  We followed the
 tunnel until we came to a wooden gate guarded by about twenty men.
  That means there's lot's more than that."
	"Of course," said Larry.  "There's probably over twenty-
thousand, since that's the amount that went missing after Kobalix's 
death."


		Waytorn moved through the confusing crowds of 
sailors, warriors and knights, drawing many stares.  "Mathex," he 
shouted.  He waved at the minotaur.  "Have you seen Dame Brenda?
  I'm looking for her!"
	"She's with Sir Carlo.  They're down at the well," shouted 
the minotaur.  He pointed to the south.  "We finally got it emptied!"
	Waytorn turned around and looked south.  It wasn't hard to 
find the well.  It was a twenty-foot deep pit that most people avoided
 now, though there was many tracks leading to and from the pit.  
"Brenda!" he shouted.
	No response.
	The King Culprit motioned his bodyguards to stay put and 
crawled down the pit.  "Brenda!" he shouted, clinging to the edge and
 climbing into the space below.  He crouched so as to not bump his
 head on the low ceiling and looked around.  He could see torch light
 some distance away though it was hard to tell distance when 
everything was completely black.  "Brenda?"
	"Dumbkopf!" swore someone in old Stornium.  There was 
scuffling sounds and a few groans.  Waytorn raced towards the sounds,
 wondering what could be wrong.  Had the ceiling collapsed or 
something?
	And then he saw.  He smiled and shook his head.  So he was
 the problem.  He made no pretense of blushing as he came into the
 light.  It wasn't the first time he'd seen Brenda naked.  "Dame Brenda," 
he smiled.  "We've discovered the poacher's layout.  It would seem
 they've been making mistakes left right and center because we now 
have a map of the fortress, which appears to be more of a mining 
operation."  He smiled at Carlo.  The knight smiled weakly and 
finished buttoning his tunic.
	Brenda grinned.  "You want me to come too?"  She made 
no move to clothe herself and cover her nakedness.
	"And Carlo, if he wants too?" he said to the Stornium.
	"Sure!" he replied.
	"Good, I'm anxious to finish this business but the commanders
 want this war to drag on for some time.  Captain Savin's warship, 
the Icicle, is being prepared to leave, unbeknown by the commanders.
  With the exceptions of General Chek, General Gisoni, Lord Blackaxe
 and Lord Redhawk, who will be accompanying us."
	"Disobey orders?"
	"Of course!  It's not like we haven't done it before!"


		"Captain Savin," said Sir Carlo, "I see they've managed
 to talk you into this as well.  What about your crew?  Won't they 
report this to the other commanders?"
	Savin grinned and chuckled.  "Thanks to Waytorn's 
resourcefulness here, my crew is made up mostly of pirates, cutthroats,
 killers and mercenaries.  They won't tell anyone because their loyalty
 belongs to Waytorn here."
	"Those few that don't belong to Waytorn are Blackaxe's, 
Chek's, Gisoni's or my men," added Lord Redhawk.  "Nobody will 
realize what happened until we're halfway to Fort Phal to pick up the
 rest of our crew.  Don't be surprised if they've already found this 
underground fortress we've been told about!"

Chapter Eleven
		Pothax woke to a blazing fire in a wood paneled 
room.  Not, he noticed with some surprise, with ice walls.  The pile
 of fur and silk covered pillows, a stone fireplace with real wood 
and not dung was proof that this was definitely not Fort Phal.  The
 naked woman sleeping beside him and the fact that he too was naked
 however suggested something akin to a brothel, though only the 
Lord knew where.
	Shaking the woman gently he saw her eyes open and widen.  
She smiled crookedly and made no move to cover her naked body. 
 "Good morning Monsieur Pothax.  I thought you'd never wake up.  
I'm afraid they hit you pretty hard!"
	"Who are you and where am I?" Pothax demanded grasping 
her throat and tightening his hand.
	"I am Kristine and you are in my room at the Lair."
	"Oh, really?  The poacher's headquarters?"
	"You can call it that, but I prefer Lair.  It's simpler."  She 
reached up a thin arm and felt his arms.  "My, you are strong!"
	Pothax scowled at her.  Something was wrong here.  
Prisoners definitely didn't get treated in this fashion, at any prison.  
"Why am I here?" he demanded.
	"You were going to be thrown in the mines, where you'd 
die cold, wretched and diseased but I decided to buy you.  You 
are now my love-slave.  Your orders as of now consist of releasing
 my neck and making love to me.  I might decide to let you go free
 someday soon.  We could use a good fighter like you."
	"No kidding?  How can I refuse?"
	"True," said the beautiful maiden.  "How can you refuse?"
	"Like this," spat Pothax, grabbing her hair and pulling her to
 her feet.  He wrapped an arm around her neck and held her head 
off to one side.  "Now if you don't tell me what's going on here, I'm
 gonna break your neck.  I don't care what you just said, because
 you're a lousy liar!  I've seen charlatans do a better job of pulling 
the wool over somebody's eyes!"
	"You're here because I'm to seduce you and bring you over
 to join our side.  An new era of technology has come and black 
dust is just the beginning!  When we're done with this continent we'll 
have so many machines that we could fly to the stars if we wanted to!"
	"I find that very hard to believe," spat Pothax.  "Especially if
 you're going to cause wars to bring it about!"
	"There won't be a war if we hold your people off long enough
 to increase our technology to a strength far beyond that of even the
 last Vormian Dynasty.  We are creating new and better machines 
everyday here.  Just think of what the world could be like twenty 
years from now if it started to increase in the rate of number of new 
technologies everyday!"
	"Like that crosspiece-less-crossbow I keep seeing?"
	"A thunder-bow.  Or a rifle, as some people here call it.  It
 can kill a man in a single shot!"
	"So can a regular crossbow!"
	"But not at the range and accuracy a rifle can!"
	Pothax released her neck and pushed her into the pile of 
pillows.  "What other machines have you made?" he demanded.  "New 
and better ways to make a new Lake Vormia?  Lake Kobalix perhaps?"
	"No!  We don't want that to happen!  We want new forms of 
transportation!  You came to Fort Phal in that new ship correct?  Just
 imagine going ten times that speed!  Maybe even flying!"  She stood 
and faced him.  Her breasts rubbed his chest as she breathed heavily
	"Flying?"
	"Yes, flying!  One of our scientists is trying to find new ways 
of sending messages, through the air!  We wouldn't have to hire the 
pony express or send a courier!  New ways of doing everything!  
Eventually we might not even have to do work!  The machines would
 do everything for us!  Think of how much peace would be in the 
world then?  You could have or do anything you wanted!  And all the
 free time, you could play games, go to festivals, travel the world, 
drink as much wine as you wanted without a care, make love for 
years and years because you don't have to work!  Just think of making
 love for eternity!"  She reached over and took hold of him and kissed
 him.
	Pothax's imagination was too overworked.  His blood pressure
 was too high and having a irresistible woman's naked body pressed 
against his and kissing his lips was too much for the beleaguered 
cutthroat.  His hands came up to knead her large breasts.
	Kristine stood back from him and smiled crookedly.  "Will 
you join us?"
	She could have asked for his soul in exchange for a kiss right 
then and he would have said yes without a second thought.  "Yes," he
 said, lustily reaching for her.  He wanted to hold her in his arms and 
make her his.  For eternity.  Pothax liked that word eternity.  He knew
 he was betraying his brother, Victoria, and Kerry, but he couldn't help
 it.  This was too good to be true!



		"I envy that dung," moaned Rades, staring into the fire. 
 They were roasting their meat on their shovels.  "Why couldn't I have
 been born dung?"
	The old man chuckled and Rodrigo raised an eyebrow 
curiously.  "You're a funny man, Lieutenant, despite your somber 
expression.  "For every man who's here today I'll bet half of them 
envy you!"
	Rades looked up surprised.  "But-?"
	"You stood up to the Lairmaster.  That's something most of
 us didn't do and will continue to wish we had!  Even if he cuts out 
one of our eyes!  It'd be worth punching that bastard!  From the 
rumours I've heard, you slugged that hijo de una perra a couple of 
times!"
	"Hijo de una-?"
	"Son of a bitch," translated Johann in old Stornium.  He 
smiled and bit into a chunk of roasted meat.
	Rades frowned and took his meat off the fire.  It was burnt,
 but better than eating it raw.  He bit in and discovered it was soft 
and juicy inside.  It tasted to him like the greatest steak he'd ever ate.
	There was a shout and someone screamed for a period of 
about five seconds.  Rades dropped the food and leapt to his feet. 
 "What was that?" he demanded, forgetting to speak in old Stornium 
for Johann's sake.
	"Another slave," muttered Rodrigo.  "Sounds like this one 
was conscious when they threw her down.  We better get to her 
quickly.  They're usually raped several times before finally thrown 
down here."
	Old Johann grabbed his cane and followed as the two ran
 towards the pit, Rodrigo limping and leading the way.  Rades couldn't
 help but forget the way back, so many passages they seemed to run
 through haphazardly.  When they finally came out into the huge pit 
that Rades too had been thrown down he saw her.
	When the Lieutenant saw her he remembered feeling pity 
for what looked like the most badly treated person on the face of 
the planet.  Her hair had been cut off so it barely an inch long even 
at the best of places.  It was still a tangled mess.  Her cheeks were
 swollen and puffy from multiple bruises though Rades was sure he
 looked much the same.  Tears rolled down the swollen cheeks, 
past a bleeding and possibly broken nose, and torn, battered lips.  
Her neck was red with a trail of blood and bruises that covered her
 shoulders and arms.  She too had been given a ragged tunic, a kilt 
and a pair of boots identical to Rades'.  The fabric didn't cover that
 well and Rades could see multiple scars and bruises on her breasts,
 stomach, back, buttocks and thighs.  Her legs were scrapped from
 being throw down the pit and landing on the hard ice floor.  A 
shovel lay beside her on the ice.
	"A girl for once," muttered a hairy man, ambling over to see.
  "Make a fine guest in my tunnel! Heh, heh heh!"  he cackled and 
poked her with his shovel.  "What do ye say girlie?  Huh?"
	She looked up fearfully at the hairy man only to see him
 stumble away from a punch from Rades.
	"Can't you see she's had enough misery for one day?" the 
Lieutenant demanded, standing between her and the hairy man.  
He raised his fists ominously.
	The hairy man laughed and held up his fists.  "You can
 barely see yerself boy!  If ye wanted to fight over who gets 'er, why
 didn't ye say so?"  There were laughs above from the guards watching.
	Rades raised his fist higher to punch the man.  Rodrigo however
 beat him to it and looped an arm with the man's and jerked it upwards 
and to the side.  The hairy fellow flew through the air and landed in a 
crumpled heap as Rades stood there amazed.  "You gotta teach me that 
sometime," he muttered and turned to face the woman.
	He held out a hand to her but she backed away from him in 
fear.  Rades raised a puzzled eyebrow.  "What's wrong?"
	"She's still in shock, Rades," answered Johann, walking over 
and letting his cane drop to the floor as he sat down.  "She's been 
raped several times already by those guards up above and maybe by 
the Lairmaster.  He always gets first pick and enjoys that sort of thing. 
 Why with the number of girls tossed down here and the number of 
ones that were pregnant, I'd say he has a couple kids down here!  For
 the moment, Rades, let her be.  If you get too persistent, she's likely
 to attack you.  She might even become malephobic, like some of the
 rarely seen slaves down here."
	"Fear of men," Rodrigo translated for Rades.  For a pair of
 slaves, Rades thought these two were fairly smart with words.  But 
what do you expect of a Stornium Count and a Cherten nobleman 
who could probably write circles around the Lieutenant who could
 barely write his own name?
	"What's your name?" Rades asked cautiously.
	She sat staring at him for a long time.  Finally she opened her
 mouth to speak, talking like she hadn't spoken in a decade.  
"P-princess Kelly of the Royal House of Kinian."



		Dame Larel watched as the trenches disappeared into
 the distance.  Only a few figures seemed to notice the ships departure,
 only a few figures were above ground.  She wondered how long it 
would be until someone noticed that so many of their best warriors 
were missing and a ship already halfway to Fort Phal.  It shouldn't 
take that long.
	A freshly shaved, young knight came over to stand beside
 her at the gunwale.  "Dame Larel," he said politely.  "I understand
 you were supposed to give us elites a training session?"
	"Sir Carlo?" Larel asked, raising an eyebrow.  "You shaved 
off your beard."
	"Ye kidding?  I thought nobody was noticing!"
	"No, nobody recognized you.  I bet Dame Brenda is looking 
for you right now," said the Kinian.
	"Not likely.  She's the one that shaved me."
	Larel raised the other eyebrow.  "I'll give you a lesson some 
other time, this isn't the best time.  Why did you ask?"
	"Well," began Carlo, scratching his chin.  "I-I..." he stopped 
and grew frustrated.  "I needed someone to talk to and you seemed
 a logical choice."
	"I'm flattered," Larel said sarcastically.
	"No, that's not what I mean.  Not that you aren't attractive, 
but Brenda..."  Carlo took a deep breath.  "Were you ever revolted
 by Waytorn's attitude around death?"
	Larel frowned.  She didn't usually jump to conclusions.  "Of
 course.  You're referring to Brenda, aren't you?"  Carlo nodded.  
"Try to ignore it when you can but if this is really bothering you, stop.
  Just stop.  Tell her why though, don't leave her hanging helplessly."
  Larel felt a strange kind of kinship suddenly and hugged the young
 man.  "If you love her however, well, that's something you'd have to
 discuss with Brenda."
	"Danke schon, Dame Larel," thanked Carlo and walked away.
	She sighed and shook her head.
	"I overheard that," said Waytorn.  Larel knew it was him 
without even turning around.  "Is that how you felt?"
	"Something like that.  I loved you but when whenever we 
discussed the matter it turned into an argument.  I couldn't live like
 that and you didn't want to be held back from your 'big chance' as I 
remember you calling it.  Are you happy now?"
	"Oh, yes, I've started planning my retirement."
	Larel nearly choked.  "What?  Retirement?"
	"Shhs!  Be quiet, I don't want anybody to know!  If word
 gets out that I'm planning retirement there'll be killers lurking around
 every corner wanting to get their hands on the throne.  They can go
 at it as soon as I find someone to become my successor.  He'll have
 to be good because I worked pretty hard to create an united crime 
network.  If it falls apart into petty squabblings it will be the same that
 it was fifty years ago before Hitlot started organizing a crime network."
	"But- but you're actually going to do it.  This was what you 
wanted wasn't it?"
	"Not anymore.  Did I mention I'm also getting married to the
 second richest person in the world?"
	"No.  I didn't think you liked men, let alone Blackaxe!"  She 
laughed and poked him.
	"Very funny.  Do you recall the Panther and Dirk dying during
 Hitlot's war?"
	"Of course.  They were your idols."
	"Well they didn't die.  They got married, stole Hitlot's hoard 
and built a house in Jaton that makes King Sear's look like a cottage! 
 Do you also remember that one maiden at the Timothy's Club?"
	"The one who made the speech about scars and started a fad?"
	"That's the one!  She's the Panther's and Dirk's daughter."
	"Whoa!  Whoa!  Let me guess!  Where most families would 
forbid their daughter's, like my father did, to not even talk to cutthroat,
 this family is encouraging her to marry the King of Cutthroats?"
	"Correct.  Hard to believe, isn't it?"
	"It's times like this that prove to me how strange this world is. 
 Just look at us, a knight and a cutthroat king and we're on a ship that
 doesn't use water.  Where are we going?  Why we're going to pick 
up the Paladin Assassin, the only assassin to become a public hero 
and sail across ice to an underground lair of poachers so we can stop 
a second Ice War.  Does that sound possible?"
	"If we were two people meeting in a barroom and you told 
that to me that, I'd buy you another drink and tell the barkeep to make
 sure this drunkard gets home okay."
	Larel laughed.  "I sure hope we don't have another war for 
quite awhile.  Everything seems to go nuts around here!  For instance 
when Hitlot was killed he tripped on a rug and impaled himself a sword!"
	"I don't think this enterprise is going to be that easy.  We're 
outnumbered four to one."



		"Oh, oh," spat Rodrigo.  He sat down beside Johann 
and translated.  "A Princess.  That might mean..."
	Rades gulped and stared at the maiden.  What was she doing 
here?  This didn't bode well for Rades' friends up above, wherever 
they were.  If she was here, what had happened to the rest of her 
family?  Was there a war going on?  "What happened?" he demanded.
	Kelly looked at him fearfully and backed away.
	"Be quiet, Rades!" hissed Johann.  "Princess," he said soothingly
 in old Kinian.  "Could you tell us why you are here?  In the Ice Lands?"
	"I-I came here in a ship."
	Johann shook his head.  "She must be still in shock," he said
 to Rades and Rodrigo in old Stornium.  "She say's she came here in
 a ship."
	Rodrigo raised an eyebrow.  "That doesn't make sense!"
	"I came here in a ship," the girl repeated, this time in old 
Stornium and more persistently.  "An Iceship."
	Rades swore.  "Mathex," he shouted with glee.  He knew what
 had happened now, though he just wished the minotaur had done it 
sooner.  Maybe Rades wouldn't have got lost in the Kinian Mountains
 and ended up here.  Kelly jumped back, looking around for someplace
 to hide.  The Lieutenant struggled to stay calm.  "Did the minotaur 
Mathex build the ship?" he asked in the common tongue.
	She nodded slowly.
	"Can you tell us who came with you?"
	"The Paladin Assassin, Pothax Doxon, Victoria Doxon, Sir 
Eluth, Sir Carlo, Dame Brenda, Sir Roreed, Prince Boyce, my sister 
and several others..."
	Rodrigo translated for Johann.  He turned to Rades.  "Who's
 the Paladin Assassin?"
	"The assassin who killed Kobalix.  He's a hero now," explained
 Rades.
	"What is the world coming to," muttered Johann.  He smiled 
as he saw his Stornium Shepherd walking over  It lay down in front of 
Kelly.  "He doesn't bite," he said in old Kinian.
	She held her hand out and ruffled the old dog's ears and chin.
  He rolled over and she scratched it's belly.  He panted and his tongue 
lolled out from between sharp, yellowed teeth.
	"Would you mind speaking in old Stornium?" asked Rades.  
"Johann, here doesn't speak the common tongue."
	She nodded and seemed to relax.
	"Are you hungry?" asked Rodrigo.  "We have food back at 
our tunnel if you want some?"
	Kelly looked up and opened her mouth to speak.  Nothing 
came out.  She nodded though and started to stand on weak legs.  
Rades offered her a hand but she shied away from it.  Instead she 
sought out the dog's aid.
	Johann got to his feet and offered her his cane.  She took it 
thankfully.  The old man stooped over and picked up the shovel at her 
feet and started walking.
	Rodrigo led the way, limping and wondering what in hell had 
happened.



		Fort Phal was nearly deserted.  Those people that 
were there pointed to the north-east in the direction of the lair, saying
 the bulk of the army stationed there had went there when they heard 
one of the Princesses had been abducted.  The sailors upon the Icicle
 were outraged.  Though most of them were cutthroats, they still held 
a fair bit of loyalty to the throne.  Savin and Carlo both agreed the ship
 was unloaded and on its way to the Lair in record time.
	They caught up to them quickly and before they knew it the 
leaders had been gathered together for a meeting to discuss their battle
 strategy.  The fact that they had a map improved their situation 
dramatically.
	"Gentlemen, cutthroats, knights," began Redhawk, pulling out 
a larger copy of Waytorn's map.  Don't get confused with this map.  It
 is vertical, with about twenty different levels, sort of like a giant upside
-down tower.  We will have to fight our way through most of the levels
 before we reach the area where the Princess is likely being held
 prisoner.  On the top level there is the stables.  What is useful there is
 the fact that there is a shaft that is for dropping the dung down from 
one level to another.  It goes all the way down to the mining area, 
which is restricted because of the slaves and the fact that they might 
have diseases.
	"If we go down this shaft we will surprise the enemy on every
 level and gain an ultimate advantage.  There is the problem however
 that we lose just one level of the shaft, we may get caught down there
 with no way up.  Other than the stairs which we want to avoid.
	"Certain areas of this place will require certain people.  For 
example, this level marked chemistry will be left to the minotaur's led
 by Mathex.  Mathex you're going to have to be very careful going 
in there.  We already know they're using black dust and we don't 
want the whole place to explode.  May I remind you all that they're 
using these so called thunder-bows, be very careful around those 
and we don't know how they work.
	"Wynic, Waytorn and Waytorn's crew of cutthroats are going
 to have to take care of this level, the Lairleader's quarters.  The 
people on this level should be massacred,  we don't want someone to
 take the Lairmaster's place and cause another war.  On the west side
 of the level is the Lairmaster's quarters.  This will be the most heavily
 guarded place in the whole Lair.  So be careful.
	"The prisoners level is where they're likely keeping Kelly, 
Pothax and Rades.  Unless they've been thrown down the pit and 
into the mines.  On the west side of this level is the torture chamber. 
 You shouldn't have to go out this way, but make sure somebody
 checks for anyone locked up there.
	"The artillery level.  This is where Dame Larel and the elites 
come in.  Anybody who can shoot a crossbow will be needed there.
  This is one of the most crucial areas because it has the thunder-bows,
 though our captive claims it also has things called cannons.  Sort of
 like catapults or giant-crossbows, only worse.  Be extremely 
cautious in this area!
	"The rest of the levels are for food, where they store the furs,
 the platinum they mine down in the pit, stuff like that.  Levels eight to
 sixteen however are where the bulk of the poachers stay.  Concentrate
 on those levels if you can!"  Redhawk sighed.  "Now that my little 
speech is done there's copies of the maps on the desk over there, 
pick one up and proceed on foot to the Lair."
	"You look tired," commented Wynic.
	"Out of breath," said Redhawk.  "Let's go, Wynic, I've got 
that place memorized by now."  Wynic smiled and followed.  He 
grabbed a map anyway, remembering getting lost in Hitlot's castle 
with Redhawk as a guide.


		Rades sat there staring at the Princess eating.  He 
was hungry but this was too important.  He needed to know more.
  Something was happening up above and she was his only link to 
his friends.  He hadn't seen most of them since he left Athex.  They
 were just up above in Fort Phal, but that seemed so far away it 
might as well have been the stars.  He'd never see them again.  
Much like Deltex.
	Old Johann could stand not seeing Deltex ever again.  He 
had resigned himself to never seeing the light of day again.  To living
 the remainder of his days in a dung smelling tunnel of ice and eating
 half-burnt, half raw meat with the faint glimmer of hope that he 
might someday come forward into the world he once knew so well,
 but is now nothing but vivid memories.
	Rades seemed to remember only the bad times.  When he
 was told of Deltex's fall, realizing it was indeed true, weeping for
 Susanna Stein, when he was tricked in Athex, lost in the Kinian 
Mountains, nearly dying from the cold, tricked and betrayed again
 in Fort Phal, his eye ripped out for some cruel man's collection, 
thrown in a slave pit to live out the remainder of his days like Johann 
has.
	Kelly was staring at him and Rades realized he was muttering
 to himself.  I must look like a lunatic! He wondered bitterly if she 
knew how terrible she herself looked.  He felt the anger growing in
 him suddenly.  How dare they!  To do that to a Princess, to reduce
 someone of radiant beauty to the scared, bruised creature before 
him now.  Did they have no compassion?  He was talking out loud 
now, but didn't care.  He picked up his shovel and stormed out of 
the cave heading for the pit.  Rodrigo woke from his siesta and saw
 the enraged Lieutenant go, he nudged Johann and followed the 
young Stornium.
	Rades went to the pit and stood for a minute watching the 
guards joking and pointing at the angry slave below.  Rodrigo limped 
forward, wondering what the Stornium was thinking.  Suddenly 
without warning, Rades' arm went up and he threw the shovel at the
 Captain of the Guard.  It struck the man in the shoulder and fell
 forward clawing desperately as he fell into the pit headfirst.  Rodrigo
 cheered.
	The man tried to tuck into a small ball to prevent much injury
 but landed on his back with an audible crack.  There were shouts 
of surprise and anger from above accompanied by one person shouting
 a thanks for Rades making him the new Captain of the Guard.  
Rades ignored their shout and walked forward and drew the rapier 
from the Captain's belt and sliced the man's neck. He then striped 
the man's clothing and armour off him and clothed himself, replacing
 the rapier in his new sheath.
	"Rades," said Rodrigo, picking up the shovel.  "Before I ask 
why you did that, I'm going to ask what caused you to do it?"
	"I wanted to relieve my anger.  Simple as that, I was angry."
	"Why?"
	"I asked myself what's the point of staying here to wither 
away and die if you can't take somebody with ye!  I'm not going to 
grow old here like Johann if I have the chance to take some of those
 bastards with me!" spat Rades.  "Besides, I was also cold and 
wanted a new pair of clothes."  He looked around and saw that he 
and Rodrigo weren't alone in the pit.  There was perhaps twenty 
other slaves gathered in the pit, though there were many more 
watching from a distance.
	He looked back up at the guards once again laughing and 
joking.  Stooping down to the floor, he gathered up a handful of 
snow, packed it into a small ball and threw it, smacking one of the 
guards in the face.  He wasn't the only one either, the hairy man 
Rades had seen before scrambled forward with his shovel, dug a 
small hole and launched a chunk of ice at the guards with his shovel.
  It struck one of the guards senseless.  He cackled and catapulted
 another chunk, this time knocking one of them into the pit.
	The hairy man cackled and hobbled forward, smacking the
 guard over the head with his shovel.  He drew a shiny saber from 
the man's belt and mock saluted Rades with a giggle.  He giggled 
again and began hacking the man's head off.
	Rades saw something in the man's belt.  A pistol.  A pistol!
  He ran forward and grabbed the weapon from the dead man's belt,
 aimed and pulled the trigger.
	The sound was like a lightning crack and it echoed 
throughout the tunnels and mines echoing back to the pit where Rades
 stood holding the weapon with a confused grin.  Nothing appeared 
to have happened except the noise and that another one of the guards
 had fallen into the pit.  The guards up above took cover, not daring
 to come out for fear that Rades might learn how to reload the weapon.
	He pulled the trigger again but nothing happened.  No thunder,
 nothing.  Then he remembered being at that camp for a night and the
 man showing him the thunder-pistol.  He also remembered the man 
complaining about how slow they were to reload.  He knelt down 
beside the hairy man and took the pouch from the guard's belt.
	A second thunder crack sounded and the hairy man slumped
 over beside Rades with a groan.  Not daring to take the time to 
check the pouch, the Stornium ran towards the tunnel where Johann,
 Rodrigo and the Princess were waiting.  The dog barked when a 
third thunder crack went off and leapt up at Rades when he ran into
 the safety of the tunnel.
	"Sit," Johann commanded in old Stornium.  The dog only 
responds to commands in his homeland's language and sat before 
Rades, panting softly.  "Rades, I figured out how those things worked
 long ago.  There are lead pellets in that pouch.  You have to uncock
 the weapon, place a pellet in the slot, recock it and pull the trigger.  
You'd think they could have made it simpler to reload but they didn't."
	"Okay," said Rades, taking a small lead pellet from the pouch
 and doing as told, with the exception of pulling the trigger.  "I think 
it's time we started fighting back," he declared.



		The entrance was very narrow, some of the minotaurs
 would have to struggle to fit through.  Larry went first, quiet for once,
 followed by Wynic, Waytorn and several cutthroats.  The guards 
stood laughing and joking at the gate, never knowing what hit them for
 two seconds later all twenty lay dead.  Their blood soaked the ice red
 and made it very slippery.
	Wynic motioned Waytorn through the gate and he followed, a
 dagger raised and ready to be thrown.  Waytorn finished off the two 
guards that had been hiding behind the iron gate before Wynic even 
took his first step into the fortress.  He could smell the stables from 
here.
	"Scout out ahead," Waytorn ordered several cutthroats.  "Kill 
anybody that you can without being seeing."  He waved at Wynic, the
 signal to start letting the army come through the gate.
	Wynic nodded and whistled to Redhawk who stood at the 
head of the line of people waiting to get inside and out of the snow.  
The knight hurried in and gave command over to the individual leaders
 of the different groups assigned to each level.  He followed Wynic 
down the tunnel and stairway to the stables.
	The stables were huge, there were perhaps five thousand 
animals housed here.  Whether they were cattle, horses, or cougars, 
Wynic didn't care.  He followed Redhawk past the rows and rows 
of animals killing any poachers they happened to see with the deadly 
efficiency Redhawk was used to seeing from the assassin.
	When they arrived at the dung shaft, Redhawk regretted 
picking this as the perfect spot to take advantage of.  To say it stunk
 was an understatement.  "Now I know how you felt in the sewers 
below Kobalix's citadel," muttered Redhawk, covering his nose with 
a bandanna.
	"Oh, be quiet.  Just think of wine and you'll be okay," laughed
 Wynic.
	"Ah, no thanks.  Everytime I get the chance to have a drink
 I get drowsy and fall asleep before I get to the second glass.  I must
 be getting old or something."
	Behind his lord, Derick adjusted his crossbow strap, smiled
 and thanked Mathex mentally for those pills.



		The process of getting down the dung shaft was 
incredibly smelly and Eluth wasn't the only one to throw up this time.
  It was the people below him that had to watch out.  Victoria was 
very happy when she reached the artillery level though and not having
 lost her breakfast.
	She waved the elites and crossbowmen to hide in the rooms
 along the tunnel and be quiet.  Slowly, she crept down the tunnel 
without a sound and knelt behind a doorway as it opened and a man
 came out carrying a thunder-bow.  She drew a dagger, slipped up 
behind him and cut his throat.  She smiled and dragged the man back
 into his room.  Wynic must be rubbing off on me, she thought with a
 smile.

Chapter Twelve
		Carlo and Brenda worked their way from room to 
room along the right side of the hallway while Roreed and Eluth 
worked the left side, systematically killing everyone they found.  At 
the end of the hallway was the artillery room, a huge room set up for
 the sole purpose of testing new weapons.  The bulk of the crossbowmen,
 Victoria and Dame Larel were already down there in a shooting war
 with the artillery scientists.  
	One chamber however was not your usual room, it was a 
brothel, for every person in there was either a prostitute or a 
customer and they were all naked.  Brenda backed out of the room 
and turned to Carlo with a grin.  "It's a damn whore house!  What 
say we...?"
	Carlo would have smiled if Brenda wasn't soaked in blood
 from killing half a dozen people already.  "They need us down in the
 artillery room.  We don't have the time to wash all that blood off
 and pretend."
	"True," she nodded and entered without hesitation, killing 
everyone in her professional fashion.  Carlo didn't need to help, 
these people weren't fighters, they were scientists.  The only resistance
 she got was from a couple brave whores.
	There was an explosion down in the artillery range and Carlo
 turned to leave.  His belt snagged on something and he turned see 
Brenda pulling him towards the room.  	"Please Carlo?  We 
haven't made love since we went down in the well for some privacy!"
 she said, ripping her bloody shirt off and discarding it.  "Make love 
to me?"
	Carlo knew that he had to discuss this with her, but this was 
extremely poor timing.  "They need us down in the artillery room," he
 argued.  She frowned.  "But the sooner that's done, the sooner we 
can leave, the sooner we can make love."
	Her face brightened and raced down the hallway.  "Hurry up,
 slow poke!"



		Victoria was cornered and she knew it was just a 
matter of time before they managed to correct the aim on that cannon
 and blast her all the way to the heavenly gates.  She took a poisoned
 arrow from her quiver and nocked it.  She could see one of the 
artillery scientists easily.  Stupid man was standing right out in the open,
 it's just that he was so very far away.  She needed to get closer in 
order to get an accurate shot.  She was trapped at the far end of the 
huge two hundred yard room with giant targets as her only shelter.  If
 she came out from behind the targets, she was dead, if she tried 
running to a closer target, they would know where she was and shoot.
  Already several targets lay shattered into burning piles of splinters 
from being blown apart by the artillery at the other end of the room. 
She had to move though, because they would eventually shoot the 
target she was hiding behind.  Once they fixed the aim on the cannons
 of course.
	"Gott in himmel!" swore a Stornium voice, probably Carlo.  
That was all the distraction she needed and ran around the corner of
 the target just a second or two before it exploded, showering burning
 splinters around the room.  She ran as hard as she could, not running
 for the target's but straight for the line of artillery.  Once she got there,
 it'd be all over.
	She knew Dame Larel was right behind her because she could
 hear the knight's heavy armour jingling and her distinctive muttering as
 she reloaded her crossbow and fired again.  "Aim at the cannons 
themselves," shouted Victoria, shooting the fellow that was standing in
 plain sight and nocking another arrow.  "Maybe we can disable them
 or something."
	Larel didn't reply and shot the pile of lead cannon balls on the
 rack beside the cannons themselves.  She had already tried shooting
 the cannons and knew that a crossbow bolt wouldn't put so much as
 a dent in it.  The rack toppled over easily and landed on the man hiding
 behind it.  "I'll bet that hurt," she said, tossing the crossbow aside and
 drawing her sword.
	Victoria nodded, shot another scientist and threw her bow 
aside.  Swords would be more effective now that they were close 
enough.  That one minotaur might be a problem though but she didn't
 finish the thought.  Brenda had already snapped the minotaur's neck.
	She ran past a scientist lurking behind a cannon with a dagger.
  He jumped forward and caught her in the side with the dull blade.  
The archeress spun around, remembering that she was indeed with 
child and chopped the man's head off.  The blade had been poisoned...
	She could already feel a numbness crawling up her side and 
knew with dread that the poison was spreading.  "Derick!" she 
shouted, seeing the young apprentice doctor not far away.  Surely 
Derick could help her.
	Derick was not the best of fighters, but he was adequate with
 a mace.  There was several reasons he used a mace, chief amongst 
them, less blood.  He had never liked seeing blood.  But he hated to 
see Victoria laying on her side shouting his name with a dagger in her 
side.  Especially when he knew she was with child.
	He never saw the scientists that got in his way as he ran wildly
 towards the woman that was one of his best friends, despite the way
 she ate so much fattening foods.  Yet she still kept her figure which 
was surprising with the way she ate.  Those men that did get in his 
way were thrust out of the way with a heavy blow to the head from 
his mace.  By the time he reached her he was showered with blood 
and a fair bit of mushed brains.
	 He quickly gave her an injection of a vaccine in the wound 
and a smaller one in her shoulder in case any of the poison should 
reach her heart.  "You'll be okay, Victoria.  We have to get you out
 of here.  You're going to become a burden before long.  The vaccine
 will make you drowsy, you see?"
	"Sure, help me to my feet?"
	Derick nodded and looped an arm around her back and 
helped her to stand.  "Carlo," he shouted to the Stornium.  "Help me
 get Victoria into the hallway!" he yelled.
	The knight nodded, sheathed his sword and ran over.  He 
looped an arm around her back, another under her legs and lifted her
 off the ground easily.  "Keep fighting, I'll look after her," he shouted, 
running across the huge room to the hallway.
	There were five minotaurs standing in the hallway which didn't
 make sense since all the minotaurs were on the chemistry level with
 Mathex.  These were poachers.  He laid the archeress on the floor 
and drew his sword.  Taking a deep breath, he shouted, "Brenda, I
 could use some help right now!"
	The killer was busy however.  He knew she was.  How he 
was going to take on all five at the same time was beyond Carlo, but 
he was going to have to try.  The minotaurs came forward grinning at
 him.  He had to try.
	A Stornium star flew by his shoulder and stabbed into one of 
the minotaurs.  It was obviously poisoned for he doubled over in 
agony.  Four to one.  He risked a glance back at Victoria.  She pointed
 at her belt weakly where she had six stars.  She threw another and
 missed.
	"You keep them busy, I'll finish them off."  She smiled weakly.
	Carlo nodded and charged into the minotaurs ranks, hacking
 at them wildly, keeping his distance so that they couldn't overcome
 him.  He took a chop in the back of his leg, but ignored it and stabbed
 the minotaur in the stomach.  Three to one.  A second blade came
 into view, aimed at his head, he brought his blade up to parry and 
received a kick in the stomach that sent him sprawling into the wall.
	Another star hit one of the minotaurs.  Two to one.  The last
 minotaur slapped Carlo's sword away and punched him hard in the 
cheek.  He fell back, hitting his head against the wall.
	The minotaur went flying down the hallway.  It scrambled up 
to see a very angry young woman covered in blood.  She kicked him
 in the face and he fell to the floor again.  She kicked him in the side 
and he rolled with the blow.  Suddenly two knees like a clamp came
 down and pinned him in place.  Fingers laced themselves under his 
chin in a fashion he'd seen before back in the Minotaur Empire.  Fear
 flew through him with the knowledge that he was going to die.  She 
jerked her hands upwards and snapped his neck easily.
	"Thanks," groaned Carlo, getting to his feet.  He wobbled 
dangerously and retrieved his sword.  With a groan he lent his arm to
 Victoria and helped her to stand.  Together they limped down the 
hallway, leaning on each other for support and following Brenda.



		Sodium hydroxide and hydrochloric acid.  Barrels of
 them.  This place is as bad as a black dust keg, thought Mathex.  
But there were other things and he knew it.  Much more dangerous 
things.  That oxy-acetylene tank for instance.  That thing falls over 
and the whole place would blow up with just alone.  But add barrels
 of bases and acids?  Kaboom!
	There were very little people on this level which was something
 he found disturbing.  Those people that were here were leaving.  
Almost like they knew something Mathex didn't.  But what could it be?
  Unless they had anticipated us?  Could they have rigged a trap, an
 explosion perhaps?  Poisonness gases?  His fears started to get the
 best of him, but then he saw a rack filled with blueprints.
	He scrambled across the room, being careful not to knock 
the acetylene tank over.  He took several pieces of parchment off the
 rack and looked over them.  A steam powered engine, an electric
 magnet system titled telegram, something titled Light Amplification
 by Stimulated Emission of Radiation...  Whatever that is?  Mathex
 shoved them in his pouch and grabbed some more, opening them 
poring over them quickly.
	A map of the chemistry level.  Mathex was in the number three
 archives and store room.  The room next to this is a wind tunnel room.
  There was however something that didn't make sense.  It was labeled
 falle.  Mathex didn't know enough old Stornium to know that meant 
trap.  But he didn't like the small skull sketched below the word.  He 
grabbed the remaining scrolls and fled.  "Fall back!  Retreat!" he 
shouted.  "There's a trap!"



		Kerry had searched the prisoner level with Adrienne,
 Sir Dillard and about a hundred other knights.  No sign what-so-ever
 of Kelly, Pothax or Dillard's friend Rades.  In fact the prisoners level 
was empty, completely and utterly empty.  Kerry was certain Kelly 
was here somewhere and wanted to check every room over again.
	Dillard shook his head and sighed.  "There is nobody here!  
Not even guards!  They must be down in the pit!" he insisted.  "We 
have to go down there anyway and free the slaves!"
	Adrienne was in no mood to argue, she had vomited up her 
breakfast in the dung shaft and was not going in there again.  She 
headed for the stairway leading down to the sub-level where the slave
 guards stayed.  The knights started to follow her.
	"Stop!" shouted Kerry.  "I order you to check these rooms 
again!"
	The knights looked at her pleadingly.  "She's not here, Princess,"
 replied one of the knights.  "She's not in the torture rooms and that's
 the only other rooms we were assigned to.  We have to check the 
slaves."
	Kerry crossed her arms dangerously.  "I'm waiting."
	"Since we are not in Kinian anymore, your authority isn't totally
 there.  And as a Arthian," said Dillard, "I feel it is my right to tell you 
that you're acting spoiled rotten.  Much like Queen Elexenia."
	That hurt!  Elexenia was so spoiled she acted like a spoiled, 
six year old.  She was obnoxious, threw temper tantrums and constantly
 pouted when she didn't get her own way.  Kerry had always prided
 herself on being a leader, independent, a perfect warrior, but for 
someone to say she was like Queen Elex...  "Fine then!  I'll check them
 myself!" she shouted angrily and stormed away.
	"Let her be," Dillard ordered.  "We have to find the other 
Princess.  She'll be okay up here."  The knights nodded and followed 
him down the stairs.
	A thunder crack sounded and Dillard wondered what Mathex
 was doing.  Then he realized the sound had come from below.



		Rades was the first slave over the edge of the pit.  He
 was also the first to be pushed back down, taking several other 
climbers with him as he fell.  Others made it over the edge however 
and went into a berserking rage.  Grumbling in old Stornium he started
 up again.
	There was a thunder shot and Rades looked up to see one of 
the berserking slaves fall back into the pit.  He leveled his own pistol 
and shot the offending guard.  He lost his foot hold and fell back down.
  Reloading the pistol he saw someone else preparing to fire a rifle.  
Rades quickly aimed and shot the man in the back.  He placed the 
weapon in his belt and started up the side of the pit again.
	This time when he reached the top he drew his sword and 
stabbed the fist guard that came his way.  It felt good to have 
something to fight with again.  Not just his fists and feet.  He grabbed
 the man's sword and tossed it down the pit to the other slaves who 
would need weapons.
	A hefty-looking man with a shaggy beard bowled through the
 guards and grabbed Rades by the shirt.  Henri-Aindreas.  "What 
happened to you?" Rades asked, struggling to hide his fear.  "Did 
she dump you too?"
	"Little bitch went for some new cutthroat fellow," he roared 
and slapped Rades across the face.  The Lieutenant responded by 
giving the man a slice upwards between the legs.
	He dropped Rades and suddenly the Stornium knew how 
Wynic Doxon felt being thrown off Kobalix's Citadel.  The wind 
rushed by him and the ground rose up to greet him with large jagged
 teeth.  Or would have if Rades' collar hadn't snagged on something.
	"Rades?"
	The Lieutenant tried to turn to see who it was, but was 
dangling in such an angle he could barely breath.  "Pull me up, will ye?"
 he gurgled.
	A pair of strong arms hefted the short lieutenant in his hands 
and pulled him up and over the edge, helping him to his feet.  Rades
 turned around to see who it was.  A smiling face with a horseshoe 
shaped scar, turned from glee to horror.
	"What happened to you?" Dillard demanded.
	"They ripped out my eye?  Isn't that kinda obvious?  My aim
 has never been better though!" Rades said trying to sound cheerful.
	The Stornium sounded different to Dillard.  He had always 
seemed a bit subdued since the Siege of Deltex but now he was very
 subdued, bordering on depression.  He tried to ignore the loss of his
 eye as he had the loss of Deltex by putting on a good front, but 
Dillard knew better.  He too had acted that way years ago when all 
his friends died during Hitlot's War.  Inside he had felt like dying.  
"Who did this to you?"
	"The Lairmaster himself."
	"Then we better hurry if we plan on getting a piece of him 
before Wynic tears him apart.
	"Sure, but first we better get the Princess and all the slaves 
out of the pit."
	"No problem.  Adrienne, go tell Kerry we found her sister. 
Say is Pothax down there too?" he asked, turning back to the Stornium.
	"Pothax?  Was he captured too?"



		Pothax was being led blindfolded to the Lairmaster's 
chambers.  He could tell from the sounds around him however that 
something was wrong.  They needed him for something Kristine had 
said.  What could they possibly need him for?  More love making?  
Was the Lairmaster a female?
	"Hurry up," whispered Kristine in his ear.  "You're going to be
 surprised when you see the Lairmaster.  Trust me!"
	"Oh, really?  Is she as good looking as you are?"
	"No silly!  He's old and getting into his years, but he's certain
 that you'll recognize him!"
	"Okay, lead the way."  She stopped and opened a door.  He
 felt a cold draft rush by him into the room and Kristine led him 
forward into the room.  It was warm inside and Pothax could hear a
 large fire blazing.  Wood fire by the smell too!  The floor was wood
 paneled and he could smell an open bottle of Kinian brand 
somewhere.  It reminded him of Wynic's den though this had a 
distinctive smell to it.
	She led him to a chair and had him sit down.  She then pulled
 out a long length of rope and tied him securely to the chair.  "Safety
 precautions dear," she whispered in his ear.  She untied the 
handkerchief around his head and placed a light kiss on his cheek.
	He looked around, his keen eyes adjusting to the dimness of 
the room.  There was a heavy oak desk polished to a smooth shine, 
a stuffed Ice Lands bear standing on it's hind legs with it's huge maw
 opened and ready to attack.  A collection of daggers lined the one
 wall along with a jar of marbles in what looked like pickle juice.  
Pothax thought that peculiar and looked around to see more jars of
 pickled marbles.  There was an antique platinum saber and a belt
 full of Stornium stars.  Several crossbows were displayed on one 
wall, and a flail, a mace and a barbed spear on the other wall.  Over
 the fireplace, he could see more pickled marbles and what looked
 like a thunder-bow though he couldn't see it that well, since it hurt 
to turn his head that far around.
	"Quite a collection," Pothax said curiously.  "Why all the 
marbles?"
	There was a laugh in the next room and the door beside the 
stone fireplace opened and closed.  "Marbles," he chuckled.  "Some
 people say I've lost my marbles, bringing you here and offering you 
this, Pothax.  They say that since you hate my guts that you'd never 
forgive me and join me in my quest.  I really must thank Wynic when
 he gets here for killing Kobalix for me.  That's what all the ruckus is 
about that you hear out in the hallway.  The lad's coming here thinking
 he can kill me!"  He laughed and turned to face Pothax.  "And he
 thinks that I'm already dead!" laughed Ror Doxon, the Lairmaster, 
the Collector of Eyeballs, the Grand Torturer, the father of Wynic 
Doxon, the Paladin Assassin and Pothax Doxon, the Owl that felt 
like his wings had just been chopped off and stuffed in his mouth to
 stop his hooting.


		Waytorn opened a door cautiously, dagger in hand,
 ready to kill any occupants of the room.  It wasn't a room however,
 but a large tunnel about two hundred yards long that led down to 
the prisoner level.  Fallen icicles were scattered around the chamber, 
the ceiling was filled with them.  The hundred or so minotaurs, 
cutthroats and poachers suggested that Waytorn had stumbled upon
 a major horde of warriors.  They were gathering their forces to 
attack!  He slammed the door quickly.  "Uh, Larry?  I think you 
should call for reinforcements!"
	"Why?  There can't be that many in there?" demanded Larry
 opening the door and shutting it quickly.  "On the other hand, I agree.
  There is a number of slaves down below in the prisoner level with
 nothing to do.  What say we go tell them about this bunch?"
	"Lead the way," Waytorn commanded urgently.  He was 
quite shocked that they could have over looked such a large group
 of warriors.  The much needed slaves would be thrilled however to
 get back at their overlords.
	He ran past Larry and down the stairs, three at a time.  "Sir 
Dillard," he shouted.  "Where's Sir Dillard?" he demanded.  The 
massed slaves looked like an army of beggars to the Culprit.
	"Over here," shouted the knight, pushing his way through the
 crowd.  "What do you need?"
	"There is a very large group of a poachers through that door
 at the end of the hallway," Waytorn explained loudly for the slave's 
benefit.  He pointed to the west where a large door stood.  He never
 expected to cause a riot, just a general agreement to attack.  
	The slaves roared a cheer and someone screamed, "Glory to
 Rades!"  They rioted easily, and Waytorn, Dillard and his companions
 were dragged along with the flow of people as they charged down 
the narrow hallway towards the door.  "Glory to Rades?" asked the 
cutthroat.
	"Rades was imprisoned here, remember?  He was leading a
 slave revolt even as we were charging the front gates!  They idolize 
him!  Loyal to the dead, everyone of them!  Rades will have to tell 
you about it sometime.  Right now we've got a riot on our hands!" 
shouted Dillard.  He was dragged away in the crowd and Waytorn 
had to struggle to keep up with the knight.
	The door at the end of the hallway was knocked right off the 
hinges by a berserking slave and kicked out of the way.  The minotaurs
 within the tunnel were shocked but they quickly gathered up their
 weapons, formed a defensive phalanx.  A single minotaur which Rades
 recognized stood apart from the rest, eagerly greeting a challenge.  
Raynard.
	Dillard made his way through the seething crowd of berserking
 slaves towards the huge minotaur that would appear to be a challenge. 
 A different minotaur stepped into his path, swinging a huge 
broadsword.  He recalled Rades saying something about a giant 
minotaur, called Raynard to stay away from him.  He shrugged, Rades
 wanted Raynard, and started to attack the minotaur with the
 broadsword.
	Waytorn however found himself beside the young, battered 
Stornium.  He stared him in the eye.  "What happened to you?" he 
demanded.  "That's worse than what happened to me!"
	"Lairmaster ripped my eye out for his collection," Rades 
replied, trying to shrug it off.  He raised his rapier and pointed at the 
huge minotaur that was tossing slaves around left, right and center.  
"Raynard," he spat.  "Bastard broke my grandfather's sword!"
	"Want some help?" offered Waytorn, knowing nobody could 
easily take on such a huge creature without help.
	"Sure.  Be careful he doesn't catch your blade.  He can crush 
it with his bare hands."  He started towards the huge minotaur.  Waytorn
 thought that hard to believe but then saw the minotaur throw a slave
 fifteen feet into the air and catch him in one hand with ease. Maybe not.
	Rades led the way through the teeming slaves towards the 
minotaur.  The slaves were now staying away from the minotaur if they 
could, but Raynard was pursuing them.  Until Rades and Waytorn got
 there and stood in his path.
	Raynard chuckled.  "You again?  Let me show you what I can
 really do?  Go ahead?" he taunted.  He laughed heartily.  "Swing at 
me!"
	Rades swung his rapier at the huge brute.  It bounced off the
 brute's thick hide with only a scratch.  Waytorn stood back.  This 
was not your regular minotaur, Rades barely reached past his waist 
and Waytorn's dagger had bounced off harmlessly.  Almost like it had 
built in armour under its skin.  He grabbed Rades' collar and dragged
 him back into the crowd of slaves.
	"What are you doing?" yelled Rades.  "Let me at him!"
	"His skin is better than armour Rades!  You'll need either a 
damn sharp sword, a crossbow or maybe a spear to do him any 
harm!"  He dragged the Lieutenant past Dillard and slipped on 
something.  They both crashed  to the ground and Waytorn looked 
around to see what he tripped on.
	It was barely visible amongst the ice an snow because it was
 almost transparent.  "Or maybe an icicle!" he yelled in Rades' ear.  
He pulled the Stornium to his feet and plunged through the crowd 
towards a space of the tunnel where there were hundreds of icicles 
scattered on the ground.
	"You expect an icicle to get through his hide where a sword 
can't?" demanded Rades.  He crossed his arms and waited.
	"Yes!  Now get looking for a really pointy one!  Unless you
 want to use that damned pistol!"
	"I can't!   I ran out of pellets!"
	"Well, then get looking!"
	Raynard was busy making his way through a crowd that 
parted before him until he crossed his path with a knight with a 
horseshoe shaped scar on his forehead.  "Out of my way!" he shouted, 
reaching out a hand to push the knight aside.
	Dillard parried the hand away easily.
	"Ouch!" boomed the minotaur.  The blade hadn't drawn blood,
 but it had stung.  "Why you little bantling?"  He groped for the knight 
but found nothing to grab.  A second later he noticed his money pouch
 missing.  He looked around angrily for the knight.
	"Looking for something?" asked Dillard, tossing the pouch
 into the air and catching it.  He couldn't help but wonder why he'd 
called him a brat unless he called all pick-pockets bantlings.  He 
thanked Bren mentally for teaching him to pick-pocket.  He'd nearly
 forgotten about that.  Bren would accuse him of doing it wrong, of 
course.
	Raynard ran towards the knight, picking up momentum and
 pushing slaves aside with his bulk alone.  "Give that back, ye damned
 bantling!"
	"Ye better hurry, Rades!  Dillard needs some help!"
	"I know, but this one's stuck!" replied Rades, trying to yank 
a huge icicle from the ice floor.  "Give me some help will ye?"
	Waytorn dropped the icicles he was looking over and ran 
over to help the Lieutenant.  They grabbed hold of the base of the 
icicle and placed their hands firmly on the frozen ice.  "Okay, one...
two...three!"  The icicle came free easily and the two of them fell 
backwards onto the ice floor.
	Dillard tossed the pouch at the minotaur and disappeared 
into the crowd.  Standing up, Rades watched and saw him reappear
 behind the minotaur.  He swung the blade, this time drawing a line 
of blood across the minotaur's back.
	Raynard swung around angrily with a roar and snapped the
 knight's head with a single punch.
	Rades stood there in amazed shock with the icicle in his 
hands.  Dillard dead?  Surely, this was some horrible nightmare?
	"What are waiting for Rades?  Kill him!" shouted Waytorn.
	The Lieutenant barely aimed when he threw the icicle, but 
he couldn't have aimed better.  It crashed through the minotaur's 
taunting mouth in a downward arc, through his neck and came out 
his back where Dillard had sliced him.  He would have died anyway,
 Rades knew, Dillard kept his blade poisoned.
	"Oh, my god!" said Waytorn and began to recite something.
  Rades didn't listen.  He was crying.
"He to touch it,
He to wield it,
Shall rule the World.

It will not break,
Rust or dull,
Tarnish or bend,
Burn or melt.

It is made of Godsteel
And of Godoak.

Long it is lost,
Long it will stay,
That way.

Until he who speaks,
The Shadows,
Claims it.

It is the Spear of Destiny,
And only he who speaks,
The Shadows,
May lift it from
It's icy embrace."
	"God forgive me," swore Waytorn.  He reached over and
 grabbed Rades by the shoulder.  "Come, my friend.  We must take
 Dillard to a place where his body won't be trampled."
	Rades nodded dumbly and followed.  They made their way
 through the crowd quickly and easily.  Waytorn pulled the spear 
from Raynard's corpse and fashioned it, Rades' rapier, Waytorn's 
cloak and Dillard's longsword into a makeshift litter.  They carried 
the Arthian knight out into the hallway, and laid him down gently.
	"Stay here and guard him, Rades.  I will go find Lieutenant 
Adrienne."  He frowned wearily and walked away.  He wondered 
what finding the Spear meant for him.  Destiny was something he did
 not like.  Did that mean, even if he retired, he would rule the world
 anyway?  Or was that all myth?  Why had it come out so freely when 
he pulled on it?  Because he was a cutthroat?  Was it really even the 
Spear?


		Princess Kelly was walking in a dream world it seemed.
  Nothing was real anymore.  All around her there was death, and 
frightening sights.  The man with only one eye was no exception.  He 
frightened her.  The man with the half-scarred face was another one. 
 Kerry was with her, she knew that, but she was only vaguely aware 
that Kerry was talking to her.  She would occasionally mumble a reply.
	The knights frightened her.  They were large, constantly clanking
 and always reaching out to her with soothing faces.  It occurred to her 
that they were only trying to help, but she still shied away from them.
	Her brother Boyce was there now.  He wanted to kiss and 
embrace her but she wouldn't let him.  She stayed away from him.  He
 frowned and she took another step backwards and fled up the stairs.
	Kerry was following her.  She could hear her sister but didn't 
stop.  She turned a corner and fell over something and sprawled onto
 the floor.
	She looked up and he was very clear in her eyes.  He was 
crying.  She could tell because his eyes were both closed and his 
cheeks were wet.  She looked around and saw a dead man lying on
 the ground.  His head was snapped off to the side.  She did not shy 
away from either man.  Something told her the one could not do 
anything and the other was much too busy and couldn't see her anyway.
	Kerry was standing nearby and talking.  She was talking to 
Rades.  Whether that was the man on the floor or the man crying, 
she could not tell.
	The crying man opened one eye and answered.  Kelly stayed
 back from him and gave a whimper.  It was the one-eyed man from
 the big hole.  He was talking about someone called Dillard.  Kelly 
remembered someone called Dillard from the ride in the ice boat.
	A second man appeared with a young woman.  It was the 
man with the half-scarred face.  She knew the woman from the ride 
on the ice boat.  She too was crying.
	"Adrienne," someone said.  That was the crying woman's 
name.  The scar-man was crying a bit too, but not as much as the 
one-eyed man.
	An Arthian came down the hallway.  His boots were very 
noisy and Kelly backed away from, leaning against the wall beside 
the one-eyed man.  He was big and was carrying a bag with pointy
 things sticking out of it.  Bag pipes, something told her.  They make
 loud music.  She didn't feel like music right now.
	The one-eyed man jumped to his feet and grabbed the bag
 pipes.  The Arthian shouted something and raised a hand to hit the
 one-eyed man.
	Suddenly everything snapped into clarity.  The music, loud
 boisterous music was crying out to Kelly.  There were low notes.
  They were long and mournful.  Tears sprung to Kelly's eyes and 
she began to cry.
	The others stood in amazement as the music poured forth 
like a wave of cold water.  It felt good to Kelly.  She looked around.
  "What's happened?" she asked.

Chapter Thirteen
		Pothax was too shocked to even scream.  He just 
watched in silence as Ror introduced Pothax's uncle, Borchard,
 Pothax's half-sister, Snowdancer and his cousin, Snowdancer's 
companion, Blackthunder.  When he finally managed to say something,
 he screamed, "You bastard!"



		Wynic was just down the hall with Redhawk and 
about fifty of Waytorn's killers.  He recognized the scream as 
Pothax's and was running down the hall before Redhawk could say,
  "Hey!  That sounded like Pothax!"  The knight ran after the assassin
 with the killers on his heals.
	They busted the door down easily to find Pothax smiling in 
a chair.  "Get me out of here!"  He gestured to the ropes binding him
 to the chair.  "Cut me lose!"
	"Where's everyone else?" Wynic demanded.
	"Well, I screamed and they took off into the next room.  
Could you spare some time to cut me lose?"
	Wynic nodded and cut through the bonds with a dagger, and 
handed it and his shortsword to the cutthroat.  "Why'd you scream?" 
he asked as he drew his bastardsword.
	"Well...  Wynic, are you positive you killed Ror?"
	There was a rumbling in Wynic's chest.  "Yes!  He's dead!  I
 killed him myself!"
	A similar rumbling came from Pothax.  "Okay, then, we have
 one of these problems: the Lairmaster is an impostor posing as Ror,
 he was somehow resurrected or he never died.  Take your pick?"
	"Are you questioning my skills as an assassin?" demanded 
Wynic, pushing the cutthroat roughly across the room.  Pothax bumped
 into a shelf and knocked over one over one of the jars.  It crashed to
 the floor, glass, and pickled eyeballs rolling across the room.  
Correction, thought Wynic, an eye staring at him from his boot.
	"What kind of sick person is the Lairmaster?" asked Redhawk,
 jumping back and trying not to step on any of the eyes.
	Wynic swallowed his vomit and answered.  "It's a Colnic 
custom amongst old fashioned cutthroats."  As hard as it was to 
believe, Wynic had to agree.  Ror could very well be alive.  There
 was only one way to find out.  "Lead the way, Pothax!" he shouted,
 gingerly crossing the room, not wanting to step on any eyeballs.
	The next room was just as heavily furnished as the previous 
one.  It was also empty of any people.  Here too, there were more 
jars of eyeballs and more weapons.  Pothax gathered up more weapons
 and led the way into the next room.  Wynic struggled not to vomit at
 the sight of the eyeballs.
	A small garden of potted plants, bear skin rugs and a huge 
buck head mounted on the wall.  This room too was empty.  The
 next was a bedroom, filled with down filled pillows, fine silk sheets
 and an assortment of clothes.  The final doorway led to a tunnel.  
Wynic started down the tunnel, unsure whether to proceed slowly 
into what might be a trap or to charge right in hoping to evade a trap.
	A thunder crack sounded and Wynic felt the air moved beside
 his cheek.  One of the killers slumped to the floor with a groan.  A 
trickle of blood came from his chest.
	Wynic dropped to the ground and crouched against the wall.
  The others did the same and they waited several minutes without 
anything happening.  "Uh, Wynic?" asked Redhawk.  "Do you think
 we should go after them?  I know they'll likely shoot at us, but we 
have to do something?"  Wynic didn't answer.  He felt fear.  He hadn't
 felt fear for years.  He hadn't felt it since the night Ror had died.  He
 had felt it briefly on top of Kobalix's Citadel and when he fell, he'd 
felt it briefly when Snowdancer and Blackthunder, as Pothax called
 him, caught them in the mountains.  Now he felt it again, but this time
 it was raw dread.  It clutched his soul and heart with agonizing pain
 and taunted him to stand up and attack.  It taunted him.
	"I don't know, Redhawk.  I've never fought this type of 
weapon," Wynic replied.  "But I do know why I came here."  He 
swallowed and looked at Pothax.  The cutthroat nodded.  "Ror!" he
 shouted.  "Ror!  I came here to kill you and if you're that scared of
 me, I suppose I shouldn't be worrying about you.  You're small 
potatoes compared to Kobalix!"
	"Oh, contraire!" a voice said with a laugh.  "I can cause 
plenty of problems right here.  A second Ice War for example!"
	"Oh, really?  Is that why you're here?  To start a war?" shout 
Pothax.  "As I understand it, you want to take over the world with all
 your new technology?"
	"That is also true," came the reply.  "But not until I find the 
Spear of Destiny!"
	Waytorn crawled through the doorway and scrambled over
 to Wynic.  "We've got problems, Wynic," he whispered.  "Victoria's
 being injured, two of the elites have been badly injured, about 
seventy Kinians were massacred on the twelfth level."  He took a 
deep breath.  "Dillard's dead."
	"What?" hissed Pothax.
	"He's dead," answered Waytorn soberly.  "He was killed by
 a giant minotaur in a battle with a hoard of poachers."  He took 
another deep breath.  "We found the Spear of Destiny."
	"Who?" demanded Wynic.  He glanced down the tunnel.
	"Rades and I found it."
	"Did you here that, Ror?" shouted the assassin.  "Everything
 you've done here was in vain!  King Waytorn found the Spear of 
Destiny!  Give yourself up!"
	"I find that hard to believe," shouted a voice.  "I'll never give
 myself up to a child!"
	"I'm a child to you, huh?  Then why have you hidden all 
these years?  Why didn't you seek revenge?"  He drew a deep 
breath and looked at Pothax.  "You're afraid of me, father!" he 
shouted.
	"Yes, Wynic, but you are also afraid of me.  Only a fool 
doesn't fear and respect his enemies!  Did I not teach you nothing?"
	"I have learned that a man that fears is like the mule.  He is 
strong and high endurance, but he won't budge.  Are you a mule?"
	"You believe that?  A man who admits his fears and works 
against them is a true warrior!  If you cannot admit fears, then you 
are a fool."
	"I do not have fears, I stopped fearing when I killed you."
	"Tried to kill me!" the voice corrected.  "You could never 
truly beat me!"
	"Want to put that up to a test?" demanded Wynic.  "Come 
out into the open with your sword drawn and I'll challenge you to a
 duel!"
	"If you think your death will prove anything, deal.  On the 
condition that the rest stay put and do not interfere."
	"I promise on the condition that you do the same!"
	"Of course."  A man stepped out into the open about thirty 
yards down the tunnel with his sword drawn.  Wynic's sharp eyes
 showed the assassin a man in his early fifties, of average height, 
build and stature.  What was different was he had steely blue eyes,
 a stoic expression, bushy eyebrows, short black hair similar to 
Pothax's though tinged with silver.  He smiled crookedly.  It was Ror, 
there was no doubt about that in Wynic's mind now.  The cruel gleam 
in those eyes frightened him.
	Wynic had lied about feeling fear.  Redhawk had taught him 
never to show weakness to the enemy.  It was the hardest thing Wynic
 had ever done.  Ror now thought him to be a fool, to have a weakness
 where there wasn't one.  That might be the only advantage Wynic 
needed.  He approached his father confidently, his sword lined up with
 Ror's heart.
	Pothax stood behind him.  "Stay, Pothax," he whispered.  "I'll 
handle this.  There is no need to worry."
	"You're going to die fool," laughed Ror.  "You know that and 
I know that!"  He lunged forward, playing out a game stab.  Wynic 
knew it was no serious threat, and revolved his sword around in an arc
 aimed at Ror's side.  The old man side stepped easily and arced his 
stab into a swing at Wynic's forearm.
	The assassin stepped into the swing, the blade passing harmlessly
 under his arm.  He clamped his arm down on the blade and swung his
 bastardsword at his father.  Ror held up his arm and blocked Wynic's
 forearm.  The two man stood locked for a moment before breaking 
apart and circling each other.  Ror laughed and pointed to the minor 
cut to Wynic's forearm.  It wasn't his swordarm, but it hurt like hell!
	Ror made a swing at Wynic's upper arm, flipping his wrist at 
the last moment.  The blade whirled on an arc towards the assassin's 
exposed throat.  Wynic's blade came up desperately and he kneed the 
Lairmaster in the stomach.  They struggled back and forth for a moment 
before breaking apart.
	Wynic ducked a side slash and stabbed Ror in the kneecap.  
The Lairmaster stepped back and kicked the crouching assassin in the
 chest.  The younger man flew backwards into the wall, dropping his 
sword as he hit his head against the ice.
	Ror laughed and scrambled to kick away the blade.  The
 assassin drew a dagger and tossed it into Ror's stomach.  It plunged in
 easily, causing him to howl in pain.
	Wynic scooped up the sword and blocked a furious overhand 
blow.  Ror rushed in, a flail coming out of his jacket and he knocked the
 assassin's sword away.  He laughed and kicked him backwards into 
the wall.
	Wynic stood there silently for a moment and waited for Ror's 
plunge at his heart.  Sweat trickled down his back when he realized 
that Ror could easily swing at him instead, disemboweling him, but the
 old fashioned dramatic thrust would be the next attack.  It came swiftly
 and Wynic didn't side step, duck or try to block it.  Instead he reached
 out with his bare hand, grasping the blade, cutting his hand and 
diverting the thrust and aiming it at the ice beside him.  The blade 
crunched into the ice.
	Ror tried to yank the blade free but couldn't.  It was too damn
 stuck!  So he punched Wynic in the gut and reached for a dagger.  
The assassin ignored the pain in his stomach, ignored the blood running
 down his hand and spilling on the floor, ignored the fear clutching his
 poor heart.  He reached out and grabbed Ror's hand and held it in 
place.  With the other hand he grabbed the dagger still stuck in Ror's
 stomach and twisted it cruelly.
	Ror screamed.  He screamed so hard Wynic thought the ice 
might shatter around him and the tunnel collapse.  Wynic stopped 
twisting and drew the dagger out of the wound and held it before Ror's
 face so he could see.  He flipped the blade over in his hand and laid 
it under Ror's chin, right above the apple and beside that so crucial 
artery Wynic knew so well.
	The Lairmaster stopped screaming.  He stood there, wondering
 what to do and knowing true terror that he could die any second now.
  "Get it over with!" he demanded. He looked at Wynic with pleading,
 yet cruel eyes.
	"First tell your companions to come out from their hiding 
places so we see them.  I want to hear if they can think of any good
 reasons why I shouldn't let you die in pain!"
	"Because he's my father," shouted Snowdancer.  She stood
 beside her cousin and uncle.  The uncle was a pale looking man with 
dark blond hair.  He was frowning in disappointment.
	"Mine too," replied Wynic.  "And Pothax's.  Still, can you give
 me any good reasons?"
	Snowdancer threw her weapons down.  "We'll surrender," 
she replied.
	Borchard frowned and shook his head with disapproval.  
"Uh, I think we should-" he said, starting to disagree.
	"Shut up," snapped Snowdancer, grabbing Borchard's sword
 and rifle.  She threw the weapons on the ground and pushed them 
away with her toe.
	Blackthunder muttered to her in a different tongue.  She 
nodded slowly, and bit her lip before replying.  Blackthunder nodded
 and raised his rifle in a split second move and fired.  But not at Wynic,
 at Ror.  The old man slumped over in Wynic's arms, blood pouring 
from the hole in his chest.
	Pothax ran forward and grabbed the weapons from the three
 Doxon's.  He tossed them aside, all except the rifle belonging to 
Borchard.  "There's another one of you.  Come out, Kristine," he 
shouted, leveling the weapon at the three of them.  "You may not be
 a Doxon, but you certainly are our prisoner!"
	Kristine stepped out from around a corner.  She smiled 
crookedly and foam dripped from her tongue, spilling out of her mouth
 like she was a rabid animal.  She fell to the floor and lay there.
	"Cyanide," muttered Waytorn.  "She killed herself rather than
 expose herself to the chances of betraying this... Poacher's Network."
	"It was much more than a Poacher's Network, it was a giant 
laboratory devoted to both finding the Spear of Destiny and creating 
a new wave of weapons so they could conquer the world.  When 
Kobalix died, the operation became the responsibility of the Lairmaster.
  Just imagine what Mathex is thinking now that he has hold of a large
 number of new and imaginative inventions?" explained Pothax.  He 
had nearly been brought over to their side too.  He knew it, but he 
wasn't going to tell his friends, he didn't like the thought of betraying 
his friends, but that wasn't what had changed his mind.  It had been 
Bren.  This role model stuff was pretty hard to live up to, he had to 
admit, but there was nothing these people could do here that could 
top the joys Pothax had already experienced as a father.
	"Expect to see half a dozen new inventions by the time we're 
back in Athex.  If we leave now, we might make it back for Springfest,"
 suggested Redhawk.  He tried to smile, but found himself remembering
 that this was not the best of times.
	"That might be a problem since Springfest is tomorrow," 
muttered Waytorn.  "If you had counted the days recently you would
 know this is the last day of winter.  We can definitely reach it in time
 for Summerfest though.  I have a feeling that we're going to have a 
very hot summer.  Good for growing grapes and the apple blossom 
harvest this spring should be fair."
	Waytorn couldn't have made a larger understatement.  The 
appleblossoms this year and the grapes produced a wine that was
 more abundant, more tasteful and definitely more delicious than 
even the year of Forty-fourteen.  There were several names for this 
red wine, unlike Ambrosia.  Some called it Roger's Vintage, some 
the Ice Wine, still others, the group the public now liked to call the 
Crimson Companions, made up of the heroes Wynic Doxon, 
Pothax, Brigadier Victoria, Lord Redhawk, One-eyed Rades, 
Sir Eluth, Sir Roreed, Dame Brenda, General Gisoni, Brigadier
 Mathex, Roderick or Derick, Dame Larel, King Waytorn, Savin 
Geurkenstein, and yes, even Larry, called the wine Dillard's Blood. 
 To them the taste was bitter, mournful and strangely peaceful.



		Carlo drew a deep breath and looked Brenda in the 
eye.  They were aboard the Icicle on the way back to Jaton in the 
cabin they shared.  If he told her now however he would likely spend
 the nights in the sailors barracks with the sailors.  But he had to tell 
her now.  He couldn't live with this for much longer.  "Brenda," he 
began.
	She nodded and climbed into hammock with him.  He was
 very conscience that she was naked and rubbing her breasts against
 his side.  A hand snaked down and tugged playfully at his belt.  
"Yes!"
	"We have to talk," he said.  She watched him expectantly.  
She thought he was going to propose, he realized.  "I'm not going to
 propose," he said quickly.  Her chest drooped and her hand came
 up to her mouth.  "We have to talk about the way you act when 
people die."
	"Is that still bothering you?" she demanded.  She crossed 
her arms across her breasts.
	"Yes, or else I would have proposed long ago!"
	"Really?"
	"Yes.  Really.  I don't like it when you act so...so bloodthirsty
 and then you act like they aren't even there and expect to make love. 
 I can't ignore them, it's not in my nature!"
	"I can stop if you want.  I can break down and cry everytime 
I kill someone."
	"So you don't enjoy it?"
	"Of course not!  Waytorn once told me that people that kill
 for sport will eventually go on a killing spree!  It's not normal for 
people to kill each other."
	"So, making love is your way of ignoring it?"
	"It takes my mind off it," she shrugged.
	"Well, then I see no reason why we can't stay together.  I'd
 much prefer if you broke down and cried than expecting me to 
make love to you when I'm busy trying to keep my breakfast."
	Brenda laughed.  "You're silly!" she exclaimed and tugged on
 his belt again.  "Next time I kill anyone, I promise to try and find a 
different way of ignoring it.  Okay?"
	"Okay."



		Most people had forgotten there was a war going on
 still.  Thanks to Boyce, however, that problem seemed minor now 
that the poachers were out of the way.  He knew the chiefs leading 
this campaign against the Kinians and it was a simple matter of him 
calling them together for a meeting.  He explained how they had 
exterminated any sizable force in the Lair to the north east of Fort 
Phal, gave them a map of the place and told them of the huge stables
 and food stores currently there.  He also told them not to explore the
 lower levels because of dangerous traps that could explode.  The Ice
 Folk knew of Vormian Lake and the river that led to it.  Good fishing
 spot, one of the chiefs proclaimed and said he knew the spot.  
	"There is one other thing that we must discuss," added one of 
the chiefs.  "We have many prisoners between your kind and mine.  A
 trade seems to be a good idea."
	Prince Boyce already knew that this chief's youngest son was
 in the Kinian camp.  "Agreed.  I also have several poacher prisoners.
  Since this is your territory it is my duty to turn them over to your 
authority."
	"Agreed.  They will make fine slaves."
	Boyce nodded.  The Folk's meaning of slave was closer to 
servant than Colnic's meaning of slave.  "I believe this trade can be the
 start of a new beginning.  Let us all hope that we never have another 
Ice War.  My people have no desire for such suffering and doubt your
 people have different sentiments."
	"Agreed, Prince-of-the-Forest" said one of the chiefs.  Chief 
Windfeather, Boyce knew him from previous trips north to visit the 
chief's tribe and join in the autumn hunt.  He smiled and stood up, thus
 ending the meeting.  The Kinian nodded and stood.  He offered his 
hand to the Folk and the chief took it and shook it.  "Au revoir, Prince
-of-the-Forest," he said in old Kinian.
	"Au revoir, Chief Windfeather."



		"Snowdancer and her kin seem happy to be staying 
here with Windfeather's tribe," said Pothax thoughtfully.  "Why?  They 
are now slaves?"
	"The Folk treat slaves differently, Pothax," replied Boyce, he
 waved at a pretty young Folk maiden.  Chief Windfeather's daughter.
  "They treat them with respect and don't force their service.  Eventually
 they may become members of the tribe.  If they stayed with us, they'd
 be thrown in prison or hanged.  This way they at least have some hope
 for the future."
	Kerry nodded at her brother.  "We're going to have some 
trouble now, when we cross the no man's land.  The commanders don't
 know about the Lair's demise."
	"Actually, they should," said Pothax.  "Redhawk left a letter 
explaining their absence.  They were probably pretty angry that he 
disobeyed orders, but from what I understand he has a conflict of 
allegiances so he can get away with it.  As for General Chek, Gisoni,
 Waytorn?  This is not Kinian, it's Ice Land.  We are trespassing so..."
	"You are more knowledgeable in politics than you claim to be,
 Pothax," noted Prince Boyce.  "Excuse me, I must go speak with 
Redhawk on this matter."
	Pothax nodded and turned to Kerry.  "What about you?"
	Kerry sighed.  "You'll be leaving for Arthian soon.  I won't be
 coming with you, as much as I'd like to.  You're welcome to visit 
whenever you wish, of course."
	Pothax frowned.  "So this is one of the burdens of being 
Royalty?  You make friends you can't keep?  Then you go back to 
your Royal duties and are all alone?"
	"True," Kerry nodded.  "But I will have a line up of suitors 
when I get back.  Unfortunately you don't qualify.  Parliament would
 have a fit.  Not only are you not nobility, but you're not a Kinian either. 
 You do understand what this means?"
	"I was beginning to wonder when you'd take this up with me.
  I understand.  I don't think the parliament would like the fact that I'm
 also a father and a cutthroat."
	"Take care, Pothax," Kerry sighed.  She walked away towards
 the bow of the ship.  Pothax watched her go, wondering why he wasn't
 sad.  Probably because he had known all along this was not to be.
	Ror.  That problem had been nagging him.  How had he 
survived?  A stab through the heart was almost always fatal.  He had 
better take this up with Wynic.  Something didn't make sense.  There 
was a hidden link, meaning someone had helped Ror.  Borchard 
perhaps?  Maybe Borchard had seen his brother and saved him?  Took
 him to a doctor or something?
	Rades walked over with his new friends.  Grandee Rodrigo 
and the Stornium count, Graf Johann von Deltex.  Rades looked much
 better now that his hair had been combed, an eye-patch covering his
gruesome eye, or lack of one, and his injuries tended to and already 
starting to heal.  "Pothax," he muttered in acknowledgment of the 
cutthroat.
	"You've changed Rades, in more ways than one," noted 
Pothax.  The Stornium was no longer that always cheerful young 
Lieutenant he remembered from Kobalix's Quest.  He looked older, 
and infinitely wiser.  He tried to smile and make a joke occasionally, 
but it was forced and the effect wasn't the same.  Pothax knew that 
Rades had also learned a fair bit since they had last met in Athex.  
That much had shown in the Lieutenant's fighting skills.  Before Rades 
had been adequate, now they were honed to razor sharpness.  "How 
do you feel?"
	Rades smiled bitterly.  "I feel much better than I did yesterday."
  The day Dillard died.
	Waytorn had mentioned Rades' music playing to Pothax earlier
 and the dramatic effect it had on Princess Kelly.  "How's Princess 
Kelly?" the cutthroat asked.
	"Derick said she's getting better though she'll never fight again
 and may never marry.  She's afraid of men," Rades replied.  His face
 betrayed no emotion.  Pothax found it disturbing that Rades no longer
 wished to expose his emotions.  Not even around his friends.
	"What are you planning on doing when we get to Jaton?"
	"Not sure yet," Rades replied with a small shrug.  "Probably go
 back to Athex.  Waytorn invited me to his keep.  There will be work 
for you there, Pothax.  Maybe for Wynic as well.  For what Waytorn 
has planned, he'll need all his friends there."
	"Oh?"
	"Keep this to yourself," whispered Rades.  "Waytorn is planning
 his retirement.  He has it scheduled for Summerfest.  With all the 
confusion there will be a huge struggle amongst the underworld.  It will
 probably be broken into small crime lords or maybe no organization at
 all.  It will be like Waytorn never united the smaller groups in the first 
place."
	"Now that's a shame, but can you imagine the effect this will 
have on Colnic?  The Kingdom will be thrown into chaos!  That place 
is a major center for crime!  We'll have a civil war there!" hissed Pothax.
  "On the other hand, Elexenia is incompetent and Jacog never really 
wanted to be Prince Regent anyway.  If everything works out, they'll 
move to Arthian or Kinian and settle down as very high ranking nobility!"
  Pothax stood there thoughtfully for a moment.  "If I were to offer to 
become an ambassador for Willium, I could stand to make a fair profit.
  Probably enough to buy my own estate in Athex and move out of 
Wynic's place!  I've been looking for a place for the last three months
 so I wouldn't be imposing upon Wynic and Victoria."
	"Good for you," said Rades.  He smiled and turned away.
	"Rades," Pothax said sternly.  "You're not telling me something!
  I know Dillard died, everyone in Deltex died, but this change that's 
come over you is a little too much!  What's happened to you?" he 
demanded.  "You aren't the same Rades I remember!"
	The Stornium turned around sharply, hand on his rapier and
 eye flashing dangerously.  "You have no idea what's happened to me!"
	"No, but I can probably sympathize.  I was enslaved for over 
ten years.  Sold into slavery by my own father!  The same man who 
ripped out your eye!  I'm your friend and you can tell me!  I'm not going
 to go tell Lady Bardelias!"
	"Do you remember during the Siege of Athex, the spies that 
were reporting back to Kobalix?  I was betrayed by one of them, a 
lover!  When I came to Fort Phal I was betrayed again by a lover!  
Kristine!  And now I have only one eye, no home, barely any friends 
and absolutely no one to love me!  I have been frozen, enslaved, 
betrayed, tortured, and for what?  For peace between people that I 
don't even know and an enemy I've barely even heard of?  Yes, I had 
met minotaurs before the Quest, but why is it me that has to suffer for 
others?  Why must it be me that has my eye torn out for some old man's
 collection?"
	Pothax didn't know what to say.  Maybe he couldn't 
sympathize after all, not with everything Rades had went through. 
 What could he possibly say in response?  "What can I say Rades? 
 It doesn't always end happily-ever-after!  It can't!  But you can try to
 make up for it!  You don't have to close yourself up and barely say a
 thing!"
	Johann nodded in approval.  "Your friend is right, Rades," he
 said in old Stornium.  "You have friends and they will help.  To not
 let them help would mean to lose those friends and right now you 
need all the friends you can get!"
	Rades swallowed.  He knew they were right.  He couldn't shut
 himself up and let his grief grow.  He had to express it somehow, 
letting the anger and grief out slowly.  "Yer right," he said slowly.  "I 
just need some time though."
	Pothax nodded.  "I had to say it Rades.  You're a good friend
 and I'd hate to lose you."



		Victoria looked up from where she lay in her hammock
 and studied Wynic.  "How do you feel?" she asked.  "About Ror?"
	"I-I don't know!  I swear to you I left him dead in that alley in
 Jaton!"  He sat down cross-legged on the floor.  "He shouldn't have 
survived even if he had been still alive."
	"Perhaps.  Why were you two in Jaton?"
	"We were going to meet..."  Wynic trailed off.  "We were 
going to meet a friend of Ror's.  A man he called Borchard.  He never
 mentioned that he was my uncle."  He frowned.  He felt very happy 
now that Ror was dead.  Though it was Blackthunder who had dealt 
the killing blow, it still felt good to finally have that behind him.  There
 would be no more doubts.  "It is highly likely that Borchard found him
 and saved him.  I wonder-"  He smiled.  "I wonder sometimes how 
many kin I have out there that I don't know of?"
	"Maybe one for every trip Ror made out of Avolic.  How 
many would that be?"
	"Over thirty, assuming there's no twins."
	"Twins," murmured Victoria.  "Funny you should mention that?"
	"Please tell me you don't have twins?" begged Wynic, getting
 to his knees.
	"No," she smiled.  "But I was thinking of Princesses Kelly and
 Kerry.  Did you notice Queen Colette when we were in Jaton?"
	"I don't recall seeing her.  Someone said she hadn't left the 
cathedral since Prince Roger died.  Why?"
	"Derick and I saw her on one occasion.  How many children
 does she already have?"
	Wynic stared.  "Eleven, ten now that Roger is dead.  You're
 not saying...?"
	Victoria nodded.  "Redhawk's going have a fit if she has twins."



		Bren leapt aboard the ship from a different iceship and 
ran across the deck of the Icicle to where Pothax, uncle Wynic and 
auntie Vicky stood.  "Father!" he shouted and before he knew it he 
was up on the cutthroat's shoulders enjoying a better view of all the 
iceships returning to Jaton's waterfront and docking.  It had been a 
minor task of sneaking aboard one of the iceships and jumping from 
ship to ship until he reached the Icicle.
	"Hello there, Bren," said Wynic.  He ruffled the boy's hair.  
Bren hated it when people did that.  It made him feel like some shaggy
 haired puppy like that Saint one they talk about here in Kinian.  "Hi, 
uncle Wy!  What'cha bring me?"
	Wynic frowned and drew an antique silver dagger from his 
boot.  The hilt was carved in the shape of a growling bear and the blade
 had ruins that probably only Redhawk could translate.  The knight 
liked that sort of thing.  The crosspiece was a single six-inch long 
diamond.  The crosspiece alone was a fortune.  "This was your 
grandfather's dagger," he said, offering it to Bren.  "Take good care of
 it.  And be careful you don't stick your finger in the bear's maw.  He'll 
bite it off!"
	Bren frowned at his uncle and laughed.  To prove Wynic was
 wrong he stuck his finger in the bear's mouth and pulled it back out.  
He turned to Victoria.  "What did you bring me, auntie Vicky?"
	The archeress smiled and shook her head.  Then she 
brightened and pulled out something much like a thunder-bow only 
smaller.  "It's a pistol," she explained.  "I'm afraid it doesn't work 
though.  Mathex took a couple parts out of every one he got his hands
 on.  He doesn't want these weapons to get out into the populous.  
Imagine the problems we'd have with cutthroats?"
	"Thanks!"  Bren shoved the toy in a pocket beside his bone 
carved slingshot.  He leaned over Pothax's head and looked at the 
cutthroat upside down.  "What'cha bring me?"
	Pothax smiled, though to Bren it looked like a frown.  "I've got
 a secret.  I'll tell you later.  Okay?"
	"Okay!"

Epilogue
		The banquet upon the army's return was beyond lavish! 
 It was incredible!  They brought out kegs of Ambrosia and other 
famous years like the Thirty-Nine-Eighty-Sixth, one of the oldest 
vintages that can still be found.  The University of Jaton Orchestra had
 been hired to perform famous pieces such as Lavona's fifth symphony,
 Trochester's famous Corealean March and Famukas' Twilight Sonata.
	To Rades it all sounded like rubbish.  He knew the Arthian 
that he'd taken the bag pipes from had recorded the notes of his 
Lament and was planning to have it played tonight, by Rades if that 
could be arranged.  That wasn't going to happen.  Rades didn't know
 how to play the bag pipes.  How he had known or even why he had 
done it in that tunnel was beyond Rades.  He got confused everytime
 he thought about it.  Whatever had happened, it had been magical.
	Rodrigo was off somewhere talking to the Cherten ambassador.
  Rades hadn't known that the Cherten's, wherever they came from, 
traded with the Kinians and the Colnics, but not the Storniums, they
 lived too far away.  The Graf was off talking to Lord Blackaxe and 
other Storniums, trying to learn more of what has happened in the last
 twenty years.  He had a lot of catching up to do.  What was bothering
 Rades was Johann had declared him his successor.  Successor of 
what?  The Graf of a bunch of rubble called Castle Deltex?
	"Lieutenant Rades?"
	The Stornium looked up from his seat and his bottle of 
Thirty-Nine-Eighty-Six.  It was Princess Kelly, no Kerry.  Kelly's hair 
was much shorter, plus they had curled it so it wouldn't look so weird.  
"Yes?"
	Kerry smiled.  "Would you mind dancing with Kelly?"  She 
hooked a finger over her shoulder at her timid looking sister.  "She says 
that she's not afraid of you anymore.  Not since your... Lament."
	"Am I the only one?"
	"Yes, she won't even go near father or my brothers!"
	"Well, I suppose I have to, even though I can't dance!"
	"No matter.  She just needs someone to keep her company.  
Plus she needs to get used to men again."
	"Okay," Rades agreed, standing up lazily.  He stretched and 
walked forward to stand before Kelly.  "Care to dance?" he asked, 
offering her his arm.
	She took it.  Not reluctantly, Rades noticed.  She did however
 seem to prefer to dance away from the rest of the dancers in a corner 
of the dance floor.  He didn't care.  He placed his hands on her hips 
and she placed her hands on his shoulders.  Now what?  Thank god!
  She decided to lead!
	He didn't feel that comfortable in the new ceremonial armour 
Blackaxe had bought him.  A gift for finding the Spear of Destiny.  
Waytorn had given the Stornium the seven-foot long diamond spear 
and Blackaxe would have given Waytorn something in return, but what 
do you give a man who has everything?
	Waytorn had claimed it was but a token.  After all, he didn't 
want the world, he wanted the young lady called Susanna Rougeta that
 he was dancing with right now.  Susanna, thought Rades, thinking of a 
different young maiden by that name from a castle called Deltex.  She 
was dead now.
	This was one of the few, actually the only, banquet Waytorn 
had ever attended.  He didn't even seem to notice those few people 
that gawked at his face.  He actually seemed proud of his face now. 
 Probably due to this new scar fad.  Rades himself had become fairly
 popular with the ladies because of his eye.  Why this is, was beyond
 him.
	Suddenly he woke up and looked down to see Kelly resting
 her head on his shoulder.  He smiled briefly.  Poor girl must be tired. 
 "Would you like to sit down, Fraulein?" he asked.
	She looked up, her curls brushed his face.  "No thank you," 
she said and leaned her head back on his shoulder.  Rades tried not 
to shrug.  He wondered for a moment if he should consider learning 
how to play the bag pipes if this was the way people reacted to his 
playing?  Nah, he only had two shoulders!
	They were playing the Twilight Sonata now.  Rades found 
himself thinking of Susanna again.  She was probably still lying dead
 somewhere in Deltex.  He wondered if he could ever go back there?
  Johann said it was blasphemy to let them lie there and roast in the sun.
  They had to be buried so their souls could be freed from their torment. 
 Was Susanna in torment?
	Kelly looked up, her curls brushing his face, and kissed him lightly
 on the lips.  She bent her head back down and set it on his shoulder
 again.  This was the part of the dance where it was traditional to kiss 
your partner, but Rades hadn't known that.  Well, what the hell...?



		"Excellent idea, Pothax!" congratulated Willium.  "You'd
 make an excellent ambassador now that I think of it.  Plus with your
 knowledge of Colnic, why we might not have to worry about any civil
 wars in Colnic for many years down the road!  Everytime they have a 
civil war the Allied Kingdoms are thrown into chaos for several years
 because of all the allegiances between Colnic nobles and the nobles
 of other Allied Kingdoms."
	"Thank you, sire," replied Pothax.  "I'll take that as a yes.  What
 do you think of the title Ambassador Doxon, Savin?"
	"Sounds pretty good," the ex-pirate captain replied.  "Though,
 since Willium has managed to talk me into coming out of retirement, 
I'm now the Royal Arthian Ice-Admiral of the Fleet, I'd say my new 
title is better.  Though I only work in the winter."
	"Okay, I've got to go now.  I promised Princess Kerry to 
dance with her," Pothax said with a wave.
	"Interesting," Willium noted under his breath.  "The Twilight 
Sonata."



		Victoria smiled.  Twilight Sonata, her favorite.  Soft 
notes intermingled with a rising crescendo of small notes.  When the 
soft notes and the crescendo reached a certain point of harmony it 
was traditional to kiss your partner.  Right now, people were switching
 partners to the ones they liked more.  She smiled and looked up at 
Wynic.  "How do you feel?" she asked.
	"Well," began Wynic.  "Asides from all the wine making me 
dizzy, the music causing my head to throb, and having to listen to 
Larry, I'm fine.  How about you?"  He smiled.
	"I'm a bit queasy from being pregnant and Larry's chatter is 
getting to be too much on my nerves, but I-"
	"Hey, Wynic?" shouted Larry, poking the assassin in the side. 
"Can I cut in?"  He smiled at Victoria.  Unfortunately for Victoria, 
Wynic didn't know about this kissing tradition.  "Just till the end of 
the dance?"
	Wynic frowned.  "I can't think of any reason why not."  He
 backed away reluctantly, letting Larry take his place.  Victoria cursed
 her husband's good natured politeness.
	"You had this planned out, didn't you?" she demanded.  She 
glared down at the cutthroat.
	Larry looked up innocently.  "Who me?  What did I do?"
	"You planned it out so I'd have to kiss you!"
	"So?  What's wrong with that?  It's just a harmless kiss?"
	"May I remind you that Wynic didn't know about the tradition
 and that he's an assassin?"
	"Of course, you may.  Now get ready to bend over, because
 I can't jump that high!"  For all his obnoxiousness, Victoria secretly
 liked the short cutthroat, to a point.  He always managed to take her 
mind off more pressing problems and make her smile inwardly.  Though
 whether he did it deliberately or not was beyond Victoria.  Whatever 
the case she granted him this battle and when the time came she bent 
over and gave him a quick kiss.
	Wynic fell out of his chair from where he was watching.



		Redhawk fidgeted and looked down at Queen Helen.  
The most beautiful woman in the whole world.  Once again he thanked
 the Lord for making him the luckiest man on the continent.  "Do you 
know the tradition?" he asked as the orchestra started to play Twilight 
Sonata.
	"Of course," Helen replied.  "What woman doesn't?  It's the 
most romantic of all the Famukas' pieces."
	"Okay.  I've been trying to figure out is this new scar fad.  
Any ideas?"
	"Take a look at Waytorn and his partner.  That girl, whoever 
she is, apparently made some speech about scars being signs of 
bravery.  Now every maiden in Jaton thinks scars are a sign of a 
romantic man.  Much like an uniform.  You go out and find a middle 
ranking soldier, a colonel perhaps, give him a nice scar across the 
cheek and I'll bet you he thanks you for the line up of women outside
 his door!"
	"Oh, really.  Meaning someone might be able to set up a shop
 sort of like a tattoo shop and sell scars?"
	"Maybe, but then the fad would die down because women 
would start asking if the scars were really from a fight.  There is one
 person who I'm  not surprised isn't dancing."
	"Oh, who?"
	"Lady Bardelias."
	Redhawk nearly choked.  "You-you're kidding me?"
	"No."  Helen turned around so he could see.  "Take a look."
	Indeed, there sat Lady Bardelias, all alone.  Not a single 
young courtier flocking around her.  It was amazing.  "Where's all her
 men that follow her around?"
	"Off dancing with people who aren't disgraced.  If you had
 listened to any of the gossip lately you'd know she was thoroughly
 embarrassed by the King Culprit.  Nobody even talks to her now. 
 Well, with the exception of her bodyguard, who's the source of her
 embarrassment.  I-"
	Redhawk kissed her.  She had nearly forgotten about the 
tradition so busy she had been talking.  She melted into his arms 
and his tongue slipped between her lips to explore her mouth in a 
Kinian kiss.  Oh, to hell with Bardelias!



		Pothax smiled and drew back from Kerry.  "What was
 that for?" he asked, bemused.
	The Princess smiled.  "Tradition," she replied.  "You're 
supposed to kiss your partner everytime we get to this part of the 
sonata," she explained.
	"Oh, they should have more traditions like that!" Pothax said 
with a smile.  He frowned when he looked over to where people were
 sitting and eating.  Wynic was lying on the marble floor.  "Why's my 
brother on the floor?" he asked, pointing.
	"Did he know about the tradition?"
	"Probably not," Pothax shrugged.
	"Then look at who Victoria's dancing with."
	Pothax looked over his shoulder and laughed.  It was an 
almost comical sight to see the tall archeress and the short cutthroat 
dancing together but the thought of Victoria having to actually kiss
 Larry?  "Victoria's never gonna let this down.  She hates Larry!"



		Waytorn too noticed the assassin lying on the ground.
  "Care to sit down?" he asked Zsa Zsa.  He led her through the crowd
 of dancers to stand at Wynic's table.  "Mind if we join you down there,
 Wynic?" he asked.
	"Suit yourself.  I'm quite comfortable down here.  How's 
everything up there?"  He placed his hands behind his head comfortably
 and looked up at the King Culprit.  "I hear a certain cutthroat is 
planning his retirement?" he whispered.  "Is that true?"
	"Yes, it is.  Do you know any good warriors that might make
 fair bodyguards? Preferably someone with eyes like a hawk and 
notices everything?"
	"Depends, what's the pay?  This warrior is pretty much retired
 as is.  It will take a fair bit to bring him out of retirement."
	"Free access to my hoard sounds reasonable, once I'm safe
 within my keep that is.  After all, there's plenty to go around."
	"Very reasonable.  But I'm afraid this warrior needs a vacation,
 as does his pregnant wife.  Money doesn't mean much anymore when
 you live a life of luxury."
	"I agree.  Money can't buy love.  Are you sure you don't 
want to sit in a chair?"
	"No, I'm fine.  Just recovering from shock.  I didn't know 
there was some kind of tradition with this dance."
	"Oh?  What happened?"
	"I let Larry cut in."
	Waytorn smiled and laughed.  "Okay, how would a vacation
 in my luxurious new keep?  I have a Vormian bath?"
	"A pool?  Very tempting, I'll have to discuss this with my wife."
	"Of course.  I'm planning to announce it during Summerfest 
and escape in the confusion.  I still have to figure out who to name my 
successor.  I'm thinking of Maseri or Sinclair.  They'll have problems 
with the Cherten crime lady however, a woman called Nevada.  My 
sources tell me she'll be vying for my throne soon enough."
	"A female cutthroat?  That's rare!"
	"No, she's not a cutthroat.  A seductress is what I've been told.
  I've already warned Rades to beware of her.  He's had enough 
woman troubles already."
	"I agree.  Pothax said he's still shocked from the Siege of Deltex
 and with everything else, I'm not surprised by Rades' recent behaviour."
  Wynic smiled thoughtfully and stared at the arched ceiling.  "You know
 as far as your successor goes, I'd pick someone I hate, but is a lousy
 cutthroat.  That would guarantee you get rid of him and the strongest 
killer comes out on top.  What do you think?"
	"A fair idea, but what happens if I don't approve of the winner?"
	"Does it matter?  Once you're retired you'll be free of such 
problems!"
	"True," Waytorn smiled.  The music was now into Lavona's 
twelfth symphony.  "You shouldn't keep Victoria waiting, ye know?"
	Wynic groaned and got to his feet.  "There aren't any more 
traditions I don't know about is there?"



		Bren waved at Darylinn and made his way back out 
from under Lady Bardelias' table.  Oh, this was going to be a good 
trick!  Why did Darylinn always think up the really good pranks?  He
 hoped he didn't have any juice on his clothes.
	He stood up and inspected himself.  Nope, not a drop.  Oh, 
this was funny!  He ran over to where Darylinn sat and whispered, 
"Mission complete," in her ear.
	She giggled.  "It will be awhile before anyone notices it.  Want
 to dance?"
	"Me?  Dance?  Cutthroats don't dance!"
	"Pothax is," Darylinn pointed.  "And so is Larry.  Why not?"
	"Well, okay, but I don't know how.  Neither Victoria or father 
have taught me."
	"It's easy, I'll teach you!"  She grabbed his hand roughly and 
pulled him onto the dance floor.  "Put your toes on mine, and follow 
my steps.  Okay?"
	"Okay."  Bren did as told and placed his hands on her hips 
like everyone else had theirs.
	Suddenly Darylinn stepped on her tippy toes and kissed the
 boy as was tradition.  She smiled as he wiped his mouth with a "Yuck!"



		"Dame Larel," said General Chek.  "Asides from your 
wine bottle, is there anyone you'd like to dance with?"
	"Meaning, in your own, somewhat impolite way, that you'd like
 to dance with me?" laughed Larel.  "You do know which dance this is?"
  She smiled at the General.
	"Yes, I would and yes I do know which dance it is.  Or else I'll
 have to ask Sardias, which I don't want to do."
	"Oh, really why?"  She toasted the Stornium and took a drink.
	"Because she can become obnoxious."
	"Heaven forbid!" Larel cried in mock anguish.  "That's a shame 
because it's looks like you're going to have to.  I don't dance.  Men tend
 to try and take advantage of a woman because of the romantic appeal
 to it."
	"You're smarter than you look," Chek concluded.  "Still I must 
insist.  You don't have to kiss me if you don't want to.  I just need an 
excuse not to dance with Sardias."
	"Oh, all right.  But you owe me a favour."



		Rades broke apart from the Princess and looked her 
in the eye.  "Why aren't you afraid of me anymore?" he asked curiously.
	"Lament," she said slowly.
	"What about the Lament?  What did I do?"
	"You-you called out to me."  She frowned.
	Rades frowned.  That didn't make sense.  "How?"
	"You-you don't know?"
	"No."
	"The music, it was beautiful.  More beautiful than this could ever 
be."
	Rades frowned again.  He pulled her closer and they resumed
 dancing.  "I don't even know how to play the bag pipes," he murmured.
	"Oui, you do.  I heard you play.  I was there."
	"I know, but I had never played before."
	"Never?"
	"Never."
	"But-but how did you...?"
	"I don't know.  They asked me to play tonight, but I couldn't.  
I don't even know how."
	"You could try?"
	Rades broke apart again.  There was a strange spark in the 
Princess's eyes.  "Do you want me to try?"
	"Oui."
	Rades frowned and led her around the crowd towards the dais 
where the orchestra was playing.  He didn't see any bag pipes.  Where 
was that Arthian that had asked him to play?
	"Excuse me," he asked one of the second violins.  "Do you know
 where that guy with the bag pipes is?"
	The man hooked a thumb at the hallway.  "Out there.  You'll 
have to excuse me, Lavona's Twelfth Symphony is about to start."
	Rades nodded.  "Danke schon," he thanked the man and led 
Kelly out into the hallway.  There sat the Arthian beside his bag pipes, 
and a bottle of Ambrosia.  He picked up the bag pipes, it was heavy 
and he knew he wasn't holding it right.  He placed the bag under his 
arm and placed his fingers over the holes in the pipe.  It didn't feel right.
	The man stirred at his feet and looked up.  "You're holding it 
under the wrong arm, idiot!"


		Blackaxe could not help but wonder why Waytorn had
 given him the giant diamond that was the Spear of Destiny.  Surely the 
Spear would be worth something at a jewelers and yet Waytorn had 
given it to him.  Something was wrong, but then again, how could 
Blackaxe refuse such a gift?  It would make an excellent addition to his
 collection!
	"Gisoni," said Pollex.  "What did that scholar call this war?  
Something about the poachers?"
	The huge minotaur general nodded.  "He said the Poacher's 
Conflict, though I find that name doesn't suit it very well.  It 
underestimates what truly happened here.  Though during Kobalix's
 Quest, we did call that final battle the Picnic or sometimes the Barbecue. 
 The bards like to call it that.  Kobalix's Quest is suitable.  The Third 
Ice War would be a better name for what happened here.  What do 
you think, Lord Blackaxe?"
	Blackaxe nodded.  "I too agree that Poacher's Conflict 
underestimates it.  Though the war itself didn't last long; it was barely 
two or three major battles.  I'm inclined to call it the Great Ice Battle 
or perhaps the Quest's Aftermath."  He frowned and pointed at Lady
 Bardelias.  "Uh, what is that under her chair?"
	Gisoni looked and snorted.  "Well, either Lady Bardelias drank
 a little too much and-" he blushed -"and she urinated, or someone 
played a prank on her.  One or the other.  Considering I saw Bren and
 Darylinn with a bottle of apple juice earlier, I'd wager on the latter."  
He smiled.  "It's amazing how children can find the simplest pleasures 
out of a harmless prank."



		Loud music interrupted the orchestra's finale and it died
 down quietly as Rades entered playing.  The loud, boisterous music 
filled the chamber and the crowd turned to listen.  The Lieutenant closed
 his eyes and played.  The notes came to him like a flood of music that
 he had to struggle to keep up with.
	Behind him, the Arthian was writing madly with an ink well, 
pen and parchment.  The music was different this time.  The Arthian
 had assumed Rades knew the music from somewhere but now it 
occurred to him that the Stornium made the music up as he went, totally
 unknowing of how the next few notes would be.  The sound though, 
oh, the sound  was inspired.
	Rades' music had taken on a new texture.  It was hard to 
distinguish it, but it was there nevertheless.  The effect on the crowd 
was no longer bringing tears to people's eyes, but suggesting, no insisting, 
that they tap their feet to a now rising flurry of hard notes.  He dipped
 into a spell of quick notes, so fast it was close to gibberish, but the
 conductor of the orchestra had now joined the Arthian in madly trying
 to capture and hold all the notes on paper.
	He slowed down dramatically, the notes swirling in the midst 
of a high, triumphant note like a trumpet.  Ever so slowly, the music
 started to build a crescendo of music that was spiraling up to new 
heights, new octaves.  A mix of lower notes mixed in with gibberish
 notes.
	Once again the crescendo started to build.  Rades could feel 
the music humming in his chest as the notes flew at him out of them 
chasm of pain that was his mind.  The music took on an accusing luster,
 then laughter and finally a sharp final note of longing that rang 
throughout the palace with such force Rades thought his ears would 
start to bleed.
	As abruptly as it had started it was over.  He'd played for 
about five minutes and his chest hurt.  The stunned crowd stood there
 as he did wondering how in heaven had all that music, enough to drown 
out an orchestra, could come from one bag pipe.  An old worn bag pipe
 at that!  The conductor was muttering something about a bag pipe 
concerto and calling it Triumph.
	Then there was an explosion out in the courtyard.


		Carlo and Brenda didn't attend the banquet.  Well, 
actually, they did show up, but that was the last anyone saw of them.
  It was raining lightly outside, the snow starting ever so slowly to melt.
  But they weren't outside.  They were however wet with sweat from 
being in each other's naked embrace for the last hour in the cupola on
 the roof.
	Imagine how surprised they were when they started seeing 
fireballs flying up into the night sky and exploding into fiery reds, blues, 
purples and pinks.  They jumped to their feet, clothed themselves and
 ran down the stairs, drawing their weapons as they went.  Someone 
was attacking the palace with some kind of new black dust weapon!
	They ran along side the crowd of screaming people as they all
 ran to get outside.  What greeted them however when they did get out
 in the courtyard was two minotaurs and an old man.  The one minotaur
 was lighting the explosives while the other two were painting.
	"Mathex!" shouted Redhawk.  "What are you doing?"  He had
 to admit the fiery balls of flame were dangerous, but-
	"I call them fireworks!" shouted Mathex.  "Aren't they beautiful?"
	"Yes, but-"
	"I know it uses black dust, but this isn't a weapon and Nebonex
 gave me permission to proceed."  He smiled and lit another of the 
explosives.  It went up into the sky and exploded into a brilliant display 
of red sparks.  "Sort of like artificial northern lights, don't you think?"
	Redhawk nodded and watched another explosive fly up into the 
air and explode into purple and pink sparks.  He sheathed his sword
 and hugged his wife.  Her dress was ruined by the rain and his armour 
would be needing a damn good polish when this was over, but he 
didn't care.
	No one did.