rmy is here, ready, then
what's happening in Nadia City? Who can say what Retoc is doing?
You'll have to go ahead and stop him--or at least delay him. I'll go
back for Bylanus."

* * * * *

Bram Forest shook his head. "I can't let you go alone, Ylia. Not with
the Abarian legions so close."

"But I must, don't you see?"

Bram Forest frowned. There did not seem any other way, but he was
reluctant. "I love you, Ylia. I couldn't let--"

"What happens in Nadia City today is more important than our love,
Bram Forest! What would our love mean if Retoc the Abarian ruled all
Tarth?"

"Then you take the skiff," Bram Forest said finally. "I can make my
way to the city along the bank."

"No. The army is still encamped. They won't do anything for some time
yet. See? All their tents are still standing."

That was true enough. "Besides," Ylia went on, "we don't know what
Retoc is planning in the city. You can reach it faster by skiff. I'll
go back for Bylanus on foot."

The logic of what Ylia said could not be refuted. With sinking heart
Bram Forest helped her from the skiff. He kissed her quickly. "I love
you, Ylia," he said.

"And I love you, Bram Forest."

"Be careful. Keep hidden in the rushes. Tell Bylanus to use his
judgment in attacking or waiting for Retoc's legions to make the first
move."

Ylia's pretty head nodded. Then she ducked into the rushes and was
gone. Bram Forest looked after her until the rustling in the rushes
stopped, then he poled the skiff once more out into the center of the
river and sped swiftly toward the Gates of Ice.

No one stopped him. No guards were posted. He beached the skiff and
sprinted through the gates and through the city and up its biggest
hill toward the amphitheater. Then, only a jek's distance away, he
heard the crowd at the funeral games. They roared suddenly in a frenzy
of excitement and another part of Portox's poem slipped into place.
The crowd watching the games in Nadia City was the raging beast,
blood-lusting, expectant, animal-savage, whipped into a fever of
goggle-eyed enthusiasm and ready to move, _en-masse_, in whatever
direction a strong leader might push them.

A strong leader....

Retoc? Or Bram Forest? Which one?

* * * * *

Pirum the Abarian shifted his weight uncomfortably, leaning down on
the haft of his spear. The whole idea of posting pickets along the
bank of the river seemed unnecess