I dithered. Natural reluctance. I touched the amulet Goblin had given me back/when, the amulet One-Eye had presented more recently. Not much assurance there. I glanced at the pyramid, thought I saw a stocky silhouette up top. The Captain? I raised a hand. The silhouette responded. Cheered, I turned.

The gate looked like the mouth of the night, but a step forward took me into a wide, lighted passageway. It reeked of the horses and cattle which had been driven in an age ago.

A soldier awaited me. Are you Croaker? I nodded. Follow me. He was not a Guard, but a young infantryman from the Howlers army. He seemed bewildered. Here, there, I saw more of his ilk. It hit me. The Howler had spent his nights ferrying troops while the rest of the Taken battled the Circle and one another. None of those men had come to the battlefield.

How many were there? What surprises did the Tower conceal?

I entered the inner Tower through the portal I had used before. The soldier halted where the Guard captain had. He wished me luck in a pale, shaky voice. I thanked him squeakily.

She played no games. At least, nothing flashy. And I did not slip into my role as sex-brained boy. This was business all the way.

She seated me at a dark wood table with my bow lying before me, said, I have a problem.

I just looked at her.

Rumors are running wild out there, arent they? About whats happened among the Taken?

I nodded. This isnt like the Limper going bad. Theyre murdering each other. The men dont want to get caught in the crossfire.

My husband isnt dead. You know that. Hes behind it all. Hes been awakening. Very slowly, but enough to have reached some of the Circle. Enough to have touched the females among the Taken. Theyll do anything for him. The bitches. I watch them as close as I can, but Im not infallible. They get away with things. This battle.... It isnt what it seems. The Rebel army was brought here by members of the Circle under my husbands influence, The fools. They thought they could use him, to defeat me and grab power for themselves. Theyre all gone now slain, but the thing they set in motion goes on. Im not fighting the White Rose, Annalist-though a victory over that silliness could come from this as well. Im fighting the old slaver, the Dominator. And if I lose I lose the world.

Cunning woman. She did not assume the role of maiden in distress. She played it as one equal to another, and that won my sympathy more surely. She knew I knew the Dominator as well as did any mundane now alive. Knew I must fear him far more than her, for who fears a woman more than a man?