"So we're to find the place first, and find sign—then she'll lead a troop?" He gave Paks a sharp look. "Have you led troops before, lady? I don't mean to be like Doryan, but—"

"I was acting corporal in one of the cohorts," said Paks.

"That means yes, I take it." He turned back to Ambros. "And what if their place is fortified? Do we try to take it?"

"No. There's a plan to get them out—if it's the place we think it might be, or one like it. Have you been out near the old Seriyan ruins lately?"

"Gird, no! I told the Marshal a few years ago that was a bad place—unlucky, that is. Is that where you think they are?"

"It could well be—considering the sign Paks saw a few days ago."

"Then they're a brave bunch, that's all I can say. I wouldn't stay there for a silver a day. Not even for a cask of ale."

"And for you, that's saying a lot. All right, Mal—I know you don't like it. But if they're wicked enough, it might not bother them."

"What is it?" asked Paks. "Why are the ruins so bad?"

Mal and Ambros looked at each other. Ambros broke the silence. "It's from before my time—I was just a boy, living over near the Lyonyan border. But there was a wizard who settled in there—built a stronghold all in one year, by magic, some said. Like most wizards, didn't care more for bad and good than a deaf man cares for music."

"I don't know as that's fair," Mal broke in. "Master Zinthys is a nice enough fellow."

"Who buys you ale every quarterday. But would you trust him, Mal, at your back in a fight?"

Mal considered. "Well—yes. If Sir Felis or the Marshal were there, at least."

"I like him myself," said Ambros. "I think he's as honest as any wizard, but they care more for magic and money than anything else—it's their nature. But this other wizard, Seriyan, wasn't much like Zinthys. No. He came here, so I was told, because he wanted to rule. That's not what he said; he said he had come to study. But he had a small horde of magical creatures that he let loose, and then he threatened worse if people didn't pay "taxes" for protection from them. Brewersbridge had no keep then, just the grange."

"It wasn't Marshal Cedfer here then," Mal put in, grinning at Paks. "Nor yet Deordtya, but the one before her. I don't recall his name."

"It doesn't matter," said Ambros shortly. "He made the mistake of believing the wizard harmless when he came, and it ended with a lot of lives lost when the yeomen had to storm the place. He blew himself up, at the end, rather than be taken."

"I hope he blew himself up," said Mal darkly. "The way that place feels, I'm not so sure."