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〃The darkness of a deceptionI can see it in you！〃 the small man cried。
He raised a fist； and the blue flame shot along his arm； came skipping across the surface of the river like a stone； and bounced toward Stevedore Hark。
Hark shouted in terror as the thing touched the side of his inn。 The ancient timbers screamed as if in pain； then burst into flame。 The oil in the lamp posted under the eaves exploded all along the wall。
The small blue light then went racing back across the river； to rest in the small man's eyes。
Stevedore Hark shouted and rushed into his inn to fetch his wife and guests before the whole building burst into a conflagration。
By the time he'd dragged his wife and guests from their beds； the roof of the inn was afire； orange flames writhing up in great sheets。
Stevedore Hark raced from the inn； gasping from smoke； and looked out across the river。 The dark man stood watching； smiling broadly。
He waved toward Hark with a little flourish； then turned and headed along the roaddownstream； toward Power's Bridge； some thirty miles to the east。 It would take Raj Ahten's army far out of their way； but the Wolf Lord's soldiers would circumvent Orden's ambush。
Stevedore Hark found his heart pounding。 It was a long way for a fat old innkeeper to ride to get to Longmont； and there were no force horses in town。 He couldn't warn Orden that his ambush would fail。 He'd never make it riding through the woods at night。
Silently； he wished Orden well。
Chapter 33
TREACHERY
King Mendellas Draken Orden toured the defenses of Longmont in the failing light； considering how best to defend the rock。 It was an odd castle； with outer walls exceptionally tall； carved of granite from the hill Longmont squatted upon。 The fortress had no secondary or tertiary walls； as one found in a larger castle； such as at Sylvarresta。 It had no fine merchants' quarter； held only two defensible manors for minor barons； along with the keeps for the Duke； his soldiers； and his Dedicates。
But the walls were solid； protected by earth runes of bonding。
The tallest building in the keep was the graaks' aeriea merely functional building on a rock pinnacle that could nest up to six of the large reptiles。 One reached the aerie by means of narrow stone stairs that zigzagged along the east wall of the pinnacle。 The aerie was not meant to be defended。 It had no merlons archers could hide behind； no landings on the stairs where swordsmen had room to swing。 It held only a wide landing field atop the pinnacle for graaks； then six circular openings in nests above the field。
The dukes of Longmont had not raised graaks here in generations。 King Orden thought it a shame。 A hundred and twenty years past； several harsh winters came； and here in the north the graaks had frozen from cold。 During those same winters the Frowth giants had traveled from the north over the snow。 But when the winters warmed and the wild graaks flew up again from the south； the kings of Heredon hadn't tamed them； as their forefathers had。 When they sent messages； they trusted riders on force horses。
It seemed a shame to Orden。 A rich tradition had been lost。 In some small way； the nation became poorer for it。
The aeries were badly kept。 Stone watering troughs lay empty。 Gnawed bones lay about； leftovers from past feedings。
Over the years； Orden had sent messages north by graak； and some graaks had stopped here。 No one had ever cleaned the dung from the floors； now lime liberally covered the stone。 The stairs leading to the aerie were age…worn。 Vines of morning glory climbed from cracks in the rock； their blue flower petals open now to the evening sun。
But Orden found that one could see well from the landing field on the aerieeven down to the roofs of the Dedicates' Keep and Duke's Keep。 So he secreted six archers with steel bows there； ordering them to hide and watch； shooting only if Raj Ahten's forces made it through the gates。 He added a single swordsman to guard the steps。
In the semidarkness； he waited for his body servant to light a lantern； then by its light he toured the Dedicates' Keep。 From the outside； it looked to be an austere； grim keepa round tower that could hold a thousand Dedicates。 For windows； it had a handful of small slits in the stone。 Orden imagined few Dedicates ever stood in the full sunlight once they gave endowments。 To bee a Dedicate for the Duke； one virtually had to consign one's self to a prison。
But the interior of the Dedicates' Keep was surprisingly plush。 The walls were painted white； with images of blue roses or daisies stenciled along the small windowsills。 Each level in the tower had its own mon room； with beds arranged around the outer walls； and a fine hearth in the center。 Such rooms were devised so that at night a pair of caretakers might watch over a hundred or more Dedicates at once。 The rooms each had chessboards； fortable chairs to sit in； fresh rushes mingled with lavender on the floors。
King Orden worried for his son。 He still had no word of Gaborn's whereabouts。 Had the boy been killed？ Did he sit in Sylvarresta's keep； a Dedicate to Raj Ahten？ Perhaps he rested beside a warm fire； weak as a kitten； playing chess。 One could only hope。 One had to hope。 But Orden's hope was waning。
The Duke's Keep now cloistered less than a hundred Dedicates； all in a single room。 Orden calculated that it should have held at least five hundred to serve the fortress defenders。 But at least four hundred Dedicates had died in the fight to win back the castle。
The battle for freedom claimed that many victims。
Fortifications for the tower concentrated at its lowest level。 With great thoroughness； Orden inspected these defenses； for he hoped to fight Raj Ahten here； where he might have some advantage。
A portcullis opened to a guardroom where a dozen pikemen might keep watch。 The gears to the portcullis were kept some eighty feet back； in a separate room。 A pair of guards could be housed in the gear room。
Off from the gear room lay an armory and the Duke's treasury。 The armory was well stocked with arrows and ballista boltsmore than Orden would have imagined。 The arrows were bound into bundles of a hundred。 A quick guess told Orden that at least two hundred thousand arrows lay there； most newly fletched with gray goose feathersas if the Duke had been vigorously preparing for the end of the world。
The Duke's armor and that of his horse were gone； taken by one of Raj Ahten's Invincibles； no doubt。 Still； Raj Ahten's men had left a princely long swordfine Heredon spring steel； honed to a razor's edge。
Orden studied its hilt。 The name of Stroehorn was branded into it； an artificer of exceptional skill some fifty years pasta veritable Maker。
The Indhopalese； who'd never worn anything but leather mail in battle till fifty years ago； didn't value Northern armor or swords。 In the desert； heavy ring mail or plate was too hot to fight in。 So men there had worn lacquered leather armor； and instead of the heavy blades of the North fought with curved scimitars。 The curved blades maximized the cutting edge of the sword； so that a single strike could slice through a man's body。 Against lightly armore