"I fear insurrection should Crovax be defeated," Greven said gravely. "There are thousands of Dal in the crater city, and thousands more Vec and Kor below the Citadel. I don't think the shorthanded garrison could defend the Citadel in the face of a general uprising."
"Hostages," said Ertai.
"What?" Belbe and Greven questioned in unison.
"Take hostages from the leading families of the Vec, Dal, and Kor," Ertai said. "That way they'll not be inclined to act up, should the worst happen."
Greven was inwardly surprised. This cocky boy, not long ago his helpless victim, had hit upon a real stratagem. Was he a serious contender for evincar after all?
"A useful idea. Dorian il-Dal knows the people in the Stronghold. Have him work out who will be taken and how many from each race," Belbe looked up from the tub. "Lord Greven, you will round up hostages as Ertai has suggested. Be firm, but don't rough them up. Hold them in a secure place until Crovax's fate is known."
"It shall be done, Your Excellency." With that, the stalwart warrior departed.
Once Greven was gone, Belbe sat down on the edge of the bath and dipped her bare feet in the water. She smiled with delight at the sensation, swishing her feet back and forth in the suds.
Suddenly she stopped. "This water's still warm."
Ertai slipped carefully through the shallow pool until he could lean on the edge beside her.
"Belbe," he said confidentially. "Whatever happens, don't let anyone hurt the hostages."
"Why? If no threat is perceived, taking hostages has no strategic value."
He laid a damp hand on her knee. She froze, shocked by the sudden, intimate contact. "If you hurt the hostages, you really will have a civil war on your hands."
"Then why did you suggest it?"
He looked around furtively. "May I speak freely?" She nodded. "It's part of my plan to become evincar."
"I don't understand."
Ertai lowered his voice further. "Past evincars ruled by fear, yes? Fear of death, fear of soldiers, fear of the overlords and their machines? I won't rule that way, Belbe. Should I become evincar, it will be with the support and acclaim of the people, not through terror. If Crovax wins his battle, I want to present the hostages their freedom. If he loses, I want to save them from Greven's revenge."
There was no sound but the drip, drip of water from the flow-stone spigot. The humidity was such that Belbe's hair relaxed, and dew formed on her cool skin.
"Rulership is imposed, not granted," she recited, as if reading a text.
"Tyranny is imposed," Ertai countered. "Freedom is the will of the people."
"Freedom-a lack of political or social control. Also known as anarchy, democracy, or mob rule."
Ertai pushed away. He waded to the opposite end of the pool where a heap of towels and a dressing gown lay. He glanced back once out of self-consciousness, then climbed out of the bath. Belbe did not look at him. She stared blankly at the lapping water.
"I forget who you are, where you come from," he said, even though she wasn't listening. "You don't understand anything but brute force, do you?"
On a hunch, he read her aura. To his surprise, she was not so dark as Crovax or Greven. Belbe had a streak of violence in her makeup, but radiating outward from her physical self were the bright coronas of other attributespassion, intelligence, reason. The strongest force at work in Belbe was curiosity-an interesting discovery.
Ertai tied the sash of the gown tightly around his waist. His fingers twinged from the effort, as if from rheumatism. Not fully healed, he mused. Perhaps he should visit Volrath's laboratory later for another infusion. That would make his studies in magical flowstone manipulation go much easier.
"Good night, Belbe," he said.
Still pondering, she didn't answer.
Night fell, and Crovax allowed the army to halt its headlong advance. The Hub had completed a half-revolution that night, and wind from its motion whipped through the camp in heavy, humid gusts. On the horizon, the dark profile of the Skyshroud forest beckoned. Tomorrow the army would penetrate the forest.
In his tent, Crovax received the reports of his scouts. Of the twelve condemned officers, only eight had returned from the forest to relate what they found. The other four entered and were never seen again.
"Large sections of the forest are impassable, my lord," said one scout. He was coated head to toe in sticky gray mud. "The ground below the forest canopy is very swampy and entirely unpredictable in depth. I walked for a mile in knee-deep water, then without warning, stepped in a hole deeper than my head."
"So the swamp is a swamp," Crovax said dryly. "Thank you for that valuable information! How do the elves traverse the Skyshroud? The hunting party we captured hadn't a speck of mud on them."
Another scout saluted. "They use the trees, my lord. I saw bridges made of vines connecting tree to tree."
"They may use trees for small groups, but I can't believe they use them exclusively," Crovax said. "There must be dry paths built up above the level of the swamp. I want them found." A jingling sound from the next compartment distracted him. He glanced that way and added, "Find me a way into the forest. I don't care if it takes all night, you hear? Find it!"
The filthy, fatigued soldiers saluted and filed out. When they were gone, Crovax dismissed the guards from the door and sent his aides to inspect the camp. Once alone, he went to the large brass-bound hamper in the corner of the tent and threw back the lid. A thin scrap of tapestry inside squirmed. Crovax slowly lifted the cloth.
"Hello," he said.
He reached in and dragged out the elf prisoner, Valin. The youth's hands and feet were chained, and a strip of rag gagged his mouth. Crovax sat down on a pile of carpets and regarded his prisoner.
"Do you believe in curses, boy?" he said. Valin could only grunt in reply. "You should believe-they're real. Somewhere in the distant past, my family was cursed by the gift of an amulet. My ancestors thought it was just an heirloom, but it held a captive angel inside, who served our family for generations."
His tone was so measured, so reasonable, Valin regained his composure. He sat up with his back against the hamper, cradling his shackles in his lap.
"Her name was-well, it doesn't matter. Suffice to say, I destroyed the amulet out of anger, and the angel was freed because of me. She fell under Volrath's spell and fought for his cause until I was able to find her again. We fought. I killed her… As my family's heir, my soul was bound to hers, though I didn't know it. When she died, part of me died with her. That was the curse, you see-that my life should continue only by the death of others,"
Crovax poured wine into a heavy silver goblet. "At first I was devastated by her loss, but I know now that Selenia's death was a necessary part of my evolution. The overlords instructed me. They changed what seemed like a foolish tragedy into the source of my strength. I know now the path of greatness is strewn with corpses. I'll pave my way with as many dead bodies as it takes."
He downed the wine in a gulp and let the cup fall to the carpet. The flowstone lanterns in the room dimmed. Crovax stood, his eyes glowing pale red.
"They blotted out my feelings to cure me of my weakness," Crovax said flatly. "Funny, the changes carry over to so many small things… wine has no taste anymore. Eating is just exercise for my jaws. The only food I crave now is the life inside other living things. So far, I've only tasted life from the dying. Tonight I'll dine on the living."
Valin's eyed widened in terror. He struggled to stand and run, even though he was hobbled by thick chains. Crovax watched him thrash toward the door. In two steps he caught the elf and seized him by the back of the neck.