came striding by, and among them, helmetless and with his head bound, moved the Master.
His eyes fell on Hull. He paused suddenly and frowned. “You again!” he said. “How is it that you still live, Hull Tarvish?”
“The Princess ordered it.”
The frown faded. “So,” said Joaquin Smith slowly, “Margaret takes it upon herself to interfere somewhat too frequently. I suppose she also freed you?”
“Yes, on my promise not to bear arms.”
There was a curious expression in the face of the conqueror. “Well,” he said almost gently, “it was not my intention to torture you, but merely to have you killed for your treason. It may be that you will soon wish that my orders had been left unaltered.” He strode on into the eldarch’s dooryard, with his silent men following.
Hull turned his steps toward the center of the village. Everywhere he passed Empire men scurrying about the tasks of encampment, and supply wagons rumbled and jolted in the streets. He saw files of the soldiers passing slowly before cook-wagons and the smell of food floated on the air, reminding him that he was ravenously hungry. He hurried toward his room beside File Ormiston’s shop, and there, tragic-eyed and mist-pale, he found Vail Ormiston.
She was huddled on the doorstep with sour Enoch holding her against him. It was Enoch who first perceived Hull, and his jaw dropped and his eyes bulged, and a gurgling sound issued from his throat. And Vail looked up with uncomprehending eyes, stared for a moment without expression, and then, with a little moan, crumpled and fainted.
She was unconscious only a few moments, scarcely long enough for Hull to bear her into his room. There she lay now on his couch, clinging to his great hand, convinced at last of his living presence.
“I think,” she murmured, “that you’re as deathless as Joaquin Smith, Hull. I’ll never believe you dead again. Tell me—tell me how it happened.”
He told her. “Black Margot’s to thank for it,” he finished.
But the very name frightened Vail. “She means evil, Hull. She terrifies me with her witch’s eyes and her hellstained hair. I haven’t even dared go home for fear of her.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry about me, Vail. I’m safe enough.”
Enoch cut in. “Here’s one for the Harriers, then,” he said sourly. “The pack needs him.”
“The Harriers?” Hull looked up puzzled.
“Oh, Hull, yes!” said Vail. “File Ormson’s been busy. The Harriers are what’s left of the army—the better citizens of Ormiston. The Master’s magic didn’t reach beyond the ridge, and over the hills there’s still powder and rifles. And the spell is no longer in the valley, either. One of the men carried a cup of powder across the ridge, and it didn’t burn.”
The better citizens, Hull thought smiling. She meant, of course, those who owned land and feared a division of it such as Marcus Ormiston had suffered. But aloud he said only, “How many men have you?”
“Oh, there’ll be several hundred with the farmers across the hills.” She looked into his eyes, “I know it’s a forlorn hope, Hull, but—we’ve got to try. You’ll help, won’t you?”
“Of course. But all your Harriers can attempt is raids. They can’t fight the Master’s army.”
“I know. I know it, Hull. It’s a desperate hope.”
“Desperate?” said Enoch suddenly. “Hull, didn’t you say you were ordered to Black Margot’s quarters this evening?”
“Yes.”
“Then—see here! You’ll carry a knife in your armpit. Sooner or later she’ll want you alone with her, and when that happens, you’ll slide the knife quietly into her ruthless heart! There’s a hope for you—if you’ve courage!”
“Courage!” he growled. “To murder a woman?”
“Black Margot’s a devil!”
“Devil or not, what’s the good of it? It’s Joaquin Smith that’s building the Empire, not the Princess.”
“Yes,” said Enoch, “but half his power is the art of the witch. Once she’s gone the Confederation could blast his army like ducks in a frog pond.”
“It’s true!” gasped Vail. “What Enoch says is true!”
Hull scowled. “I swore not to bear weapons!”
“Swore to her!” snapped Enoch. “That needn’t bind you.”
“My word’s given,” said Hull firmly. “I do not lie.”
Vail smiled. “You’re right,” she whispered, and as Enoch’s face darkened, “I love you for it, Hull.”
“Then,” grunted Enoch, “if it’s not lack of courage, do this. Lure her somehow across the west windows. We can slip two or three Harriers to the edge of the woodlot, and if she passes a window with the light behind her—well, they won’t miss.”
“Oh, I won’t,” said Hull wearily. “I won’t fight women, nor betray even Black Margot to death.”
But Vail’s blue eyes pleaded. “That won’t be breaking your word, Hull. Please. It isn’t betraying a woman. She’s a sorceress. She’s evil. Please, Hull.”
Bitterly he yielded. “I’ll try, then.” He frowned gloomily. “She saved my life, and—Well, which room is hers?”
“My father’s. Mine is the western chamber, which she took for her—her maid,” Vail’s eyes misted at the indignity of it. “We,” she said, “are left to sleep in the kitchen.”
An hour later, having eaten, he walked somberly home with Vail while Enoch slipped away toward the hills. There were tents in the dooryard, and lights glowed in every window, and before the door stood two dark Empire men who passed the girl readily enough, but halted Hull with small ceremony. Vail cast him a wistful backward glance as she disappeared toward the rear, and he submitted grimly to the questioning of the guards.
“On what business?”
“To see the Princess Margaret.”
“Are you Hull Tarvish?”
“Yes.”
One of the men stepped to his side and ran exploratory hands about his body. “Orders of Her Highness,” he explained gruffly.
Hull smiled. The Princess had not trusted his word too implicitly. In a moment the fellow had finished his search and swung the door open.
Hull entered. He had never seen the interior of the house, and for a moment its splendor dazzled him. Carved ancient furniture, woven carpets, intricately worked standards for the oil lamps, and even—for an instant he failed to comprehend it—a full-length mirror of ancient workmanship wherein his own image faced him. Until now he had seen only bits and fragments of mirrors.
To his
