would never have mentioned to the autarch, who barely acknowledged that any other gods beside Nushash existed).

Now, as he teetered down the ramp, he was so grateful to be on dry land again that he offered a silent prayer of thanks to her and to Efiyal, lord of the sea.

The long bight of land known as the Finger, which jutted out into the Kulloan Strait parallel to the western shore of Hierosol, was almost invisi¬ble from where he stood at its southernmost tip. Billows of gray and stink¬ing yellow smoke hung close to the ground, so that in the few places where the walled fortifications could be seen at all they seemed to float atop clouds like the palaces of the gods. The fighting, which had begun at mid¬night with an invasion of the autarch's marines from both the landward edge of the Finger and the place where Vash's ship had just landed, was al¬most over. The Hierosoline garrisons, undermanned because Drakava had (against the recommendations of his leading advisers) withdrawn so many soldiers in preparation for the siege, had put up a brave resistance, but the small fortresses had proved vulnerable to the missiles of burning sulfur and straw the autarch's catapults had flung over the walls by the hundreds be¬fore the morning sun had climbed above the horizon. The defenders, choking, blinded, many of them dying from the poisonous smoke, had been unable to repel the autarch's marines, who, protected by masks of wet San-ian cotton, were able to hoist their siege ladders and clamber over the walls almost unopposed once the worst of the smoke had blown away. The de¬fenders had offered resistance, but weakened, breathless, and blinded, they had fallen before the marines like brave children fighting grown men.

If we could use that tactic on Hierosol itself, Vash thought, the war would be over in a few days. But there was not enough sulfur for that in all of Xand, nor enough catapults to throw it, even in the autarch's huge army. Still, he could not help admiring how well Ikelis Johar and the other polemarchs had planned for the siege. The cannons jutting from the walls of the fortresses along the Finger might not be able to reach the walls of Hierosol, but they were an invaluable aid to its defense, able to rake the near side of any ships in the strait, or drive them in under the bigger guns of the city walls.

The autarch's pavilion had already been mounted on the slope beside the gangplank of his flagship, the Flame of Nushash, a towering four-masted warship painted (in defiance of any secrecy about its semi-divine passenger) in blindingly bright shades of red and gold and purple, with the great, flaming god's eye on either side of the bow and the autarch's royal falcon spread-winged in gold across the red sails. The recently erected pavilion was no more restrained, a striped cone almost fifty paces across Hying two dozen falcon banners. Vash limped toward it, angrily waving away the of¬fers of help from his guards. Sulepis, the Golden One, had already made it clear he suspected his paramount ministers loyalty: the last thing Vash needed was for the youthful autarch to see him staggering in on the arms of soldiers. He might as well announce himself old and useless and be done with it.

The autarch, dressed in his fanciful battle-array of golden armor and the flame-scalloped Battle Crown, was sitting on his war throne atop a raised platform at the center of the tent, talking to the Overseer of the Armies. Dozens of slaves and priests surrounded him, of course, along with a full troop of his Leopard guards in armor, muskets in hand, their eyes as brightly remorseless as those of their namesakes.

"Vash, welcome!" The autarch spread his fingers like claws, then scratched himself under the chin with the figured tip of his golden gaunt¬let. "You should have stayed on the ship a little longer, resting yourself, since we are going back to the landing spot soon anyway."

"I'm sorry, Golden One, I don't understand."

The autarch smiled and looked to Ikelis Johar, who nodded but main¬tained his customary stony expression. "The Royal Crocodiles are coming ashore."

For a moment Vash was completely confused, wondering what bizarre new plan his impulsive master had conceived. Was he going to put some of the massive reptiles from Xis' canals into the strait, or even introduce them somehow to the waterways behind the Hierosoline walls? The great beasts were certainly fearsome enough, even the younger adults longer than a fishing boat and armored like a siege engine, but who could make them do anything useful?

It was a mark of how strange and impulsive the autarch was, and how unpredictable life was in his service, that Vash was still trying to understand how crocodiles could be used in warfare even as he and Ikelis Johar and a crowd of servants and soldiers followed the autarch's litter back toward the ships. Only as he saw the monstrous thing being swung up from the hold of one of the six biggest cargo ships did Pinimmon Vash remember.

"Ah, Golden One, of course! The guns!"

"The largest, most beautiful in the history of mankind," said the autarch

happily. Each crafted like exquisite jewelry. What a roar they will make, my crocodiles! What a fiendish, terrifying roar!"

The immense bronze tube was six or seven times the length of a man, and even without its undercarriage, its weight was clearly staggering- several pentecounts of seamen were pulling on the ropes, trying to steady it as they swung the cannon barrel out over the side of the boat, the mas¬sive win ding-wheels and pulleys creaking with the strain. The weapon had indeed been cast to resemble some monstrous river reptile, with inset topaz eyes and fanged jaws stretched wide to make the cannon's mouth, and the creature's rounded back ridged with scaly plates. This one and its brothers would fire huge stone balls, each missile ten times the weight of a man, and if the autarch's engineers were correct (they had been informed they would die painfully if they were wrong) they would easily be able to reach the far side of the strait from the forts along the Finger.

"Come," said the autarch after they had watched the sweating sailors lower the gun onto a giant wheeled wagon. "How fortunate for us that the old emperors of Hierosol made this fine, paved road for their supply wag¬ons, otherwise we would have to drag the guns through the sand and the waiting would be even more tedious. I will have my morning meal, and then perhaps about midday we will be able to hear our first lovely croco¬dile speak. Come, Vash. We will attend to all other business as I eat."

The autarch had rather conspicuously not said anything about his para¬mount minister being fed. An hour on dry land had settled Vash's stomach and he was feeling extremely hungry, but he effortlessly stifled a sigh: all of the autarch's servitors either mastered the art of hiding their feelings and stifling their needs, or else their cooling bodies were picked clean on the vulture shrines.

Vash bowed. "Of course, Golden One. As you say."

"I ask your pardon for disturbing you, King Olin," said Count Perivos.

The bearded man smiled. "I am afraid I cannot entertain you in the way I could have in my old home, but you are welcome, sir. Please, come in." He waved to the page, who was watching with trepidation: Olin was only a foreign king, but everyone knew his visitor was of an important and an¬cient Hierosoline family. "Be so good as to pour us some wine, boy," Olin said. "Perhaps some of the Torvian."

Perivos Akuanis looked around the king's cell, which was furnished in moderate comfort, though not exactly overlarge. "I am sorry you must live this way, Your Highness. It would not have been my choice."

"But Ludis wished it so. He must have some hidden qualities, the lord protector, that he has a man as famous as you in his employ."

Perivos began to say something, then looked over to the guards stand¬ing on either side of the door. "You may wait outside, you two. I am in no danger."