"Aha!" Master Senneth was rubbing his hands together. "I always suspected the like, sirs, I did indeed. Too many caravans were robbed on the trade roads between Merinath and Sorellin, and none of the goods ever showed up here. They must have been taken on south. And I'd heard through—well, I'd heard that Siniava had bought into some of the guilds."

Paks nodded. "We heard the same, sir, after Cortes Cilwan fell."

"Cilwan fell?" asked Sir Felis sharply. "What happened to the Count?"

"He was killed," said Paks. "But Vladi's men got his heir out, the boy, and he's safe in Andressat, the last I heard."

"Succession wars," muttered the Marshal. "They'll have succession wars, as well as everything else."

"Go on," said the mayor, with a gesture that silenced the others. "What then?"

Paks shrugged. "I don't know it all, sir; I was only a private, after all." She described the campaign as best she could. Sir Felis and the Marshal listened intently, their fingers moving as if on maps. The others reacted more to descriptions of cities fallen, battles fought, factions implicated in this plot or that. Finally, dry-throated with the length of the tale, she came to that last few days, when Siniava's remaining soldiers were neatly trapped with the help of Alured the Black. "We caught up with the last of them," Paks explained, "in an old ruin where the Immer and Imefal meet."

"Cortes Immer," said the Kuakgan softly. "No one's held that since the old duke's line died."

Paks looked at him. "Is that what it is? It's still a great citadel, built into the living rock like Cortes Andres. Anyway, Siniava was killed, trying to escape secretly from the citadel, and after that his army surrendered to the militia."

"I can hardly believe Siniava is truly dead," mused the mayor. "How many years have we worried that he might gain control of Aarenis and come over the mountains? I remember the first word we had of him, don't you, Master Oakhallow?"

"Indeed yes."

"And now he's gone. And no more agents of his will come through, trying to spy out defenses, such as they are."

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

"If she's telling the truth," said Feddith harshly. "If. 'Twould be months before we could check her tale. She might be an agent herself."

Paks tensed, but Sir Felis answered. "I don't think so," he said. "She carries the Duke's ring, and showed it willingly. I know that crest."

"It could have been stolen," said Feddith stubbornly.

"She fights like a soldier trained in Phelan's Company," commented the Marshal.

"And as well," said the mayor, with a look at the mage, "we have a way to tell if she lied. If Master Zinthys is willing—"

The mage looked at Paks, and smiled disarmingly. "I should say, if the lady is willing. Without any special arts, sirs, I see no liar there. An honest soldier, it seems to me, and I daresay to Captain Sir Felis." He caught Felis's eye, and the captain nodded. "I would not wish to cast a spell on her if she's opposed, sirs; I would not indeed."