Harden was stubborn. He kept coming through everything.

Yo! Croaker! someone shouted. Come on.

I looked down. The wagons were through the worst. Time to go.

Out on the flats the thunderheads spun off another funnel cloud. I almost felt sorry for Hardens men.

Soon after I rejoined the column the ground shuddered. The bluff I had climbed quivered, groaned, toppled, sprawled across the road. Another little gift for Harden.

We reached our stopping place shortly before nightfall. Decent country at last! Real trees. A gurgling creek. Those who had any strength left began digging in or cooking.

The rest fell in their tracks. The Captain did not press. The best medicine at the moment was the simple freedom to rest.

I slept like the proverbial log.

One-Eye wakened me at rooster time. Lets get to work, he said. The Captain wants a hospital set up. He made a face. His looks like a prune at the best of times. Were supposed to have some help coming up from Charm.

I groaned and moaned and cursed and got up. Every muscle was stiff. Every bone ached. Next time were someplace civilized enough to have taverns remind me to drink a toast to eternal peace, I grumbled. One-Eye, Im ready to retire.

So who isnt? But youre the Annalist, Croaker. Youre always rubbing our noses in tradition. You know you only got two ways out while weve got this commission. Dead or feet first. Shove some chow in your ugly face and lets get cracking. I got more important things to do than play nursemaid.

Cheerful this morning, arent we?

Positively rosy. He grumped around while I got myself into an approximation of order.

The camp was coming to life. Men were eating and washing the desert off their bodies. They were cussing and fussing and bitching. Some were even talking to one another. The recovery had begun.

Sergeants and officers were out surveying the lie of the slope, seeking the most defensible strongpoints. This, then, was the place where the Taken wanted to make a stand.

It was a good spot. It was that part of the pass which gave the Stair its name, a twelve hundred foot rise overlooking a maze of canyons. The old road wound back and forth across the mountainside in countless switchbacks, so that from a distance it looked like a giants lopsided stairway

One-Eye and I drafted a dozen men and began moving the wounded to a quiet grove well above the prospective battleground. We spent an hour making them comfortable and getting set for future business.

Whats that? One-Eye suddenly demanded,

I listened. The din of preparation had died. Something up, I said.

Genius, he countered. Probably the people from Charm.

Lets take a look. I tramped out of the grove and down toward the Captains headquarters. The newcomers were obvious the moment I left the trees.