“Some invading enemy, perhaps?” Bowgentle suggested, bathing the girl’s brow.

“That was my guessand yet it does not seem to fit.” Hawkmoon sighed. “It is puzzlingfrightening that we know so little.”

There came a knock upon the door and D’Averc entered. “An old friend is here, Hawkmoon.”

“An old friend? Who?”

“The Orkneyman-Orland Fank.”

Hawkmoon rose. “Perhaps he can enlighten us.”

As he walked towards the door Bowgentle spoke quietly. “The girl is dead, Duke Dorian.”

“She knows she will be avenged,” Hawkmoon said flatly and he left to descend the stairs to the hall.

“Something is in the wind, I agree, friend,” Orland Fank was saying to Count Brass as they stood together beside the fire. He waved his hand as Hawkmoon joined them. “And how d’you fare, Duke Dorian?”

“Well enough, in the circumstances. Do you know why the legions are leaving, Master Fank?”

“I was telling the good Count Brass here that I do not…”

“Ah, and I thought you omniscient, Master Fank.”

Fank grinned sheepishly, tugging off his bonnet to wipe his face with it. “I still need time to gather information and I’ve been busy the while since you left Dnark. I’ve brought gifts for all the heroes of Castle Brass.”

“You are kind.”

“They’re not from me, you understand, but from well, the Runestaff, I suppose. I’ll give you them later. They’ve little practical use, you might think, but then it’s hard to say what is practical and what is not in the fight against the Dark Empire.

Hawkmoon turned to D’Averc. “What did you discover on your ride?”

“Much the same as you,” D’Averc replied. “Razed villages, all the inhabitants hastily slain. Signs of an overswift departure on the part of the troops. I gather that

there are still some garrisons in the large towns, but they are skeleton staffedmainly artillery and no cavalry at all.”

“This seems insane,” murmured Count Brass.

“If they are insane, then we may yet take advantage of their lack of rationality,” Hawkmoon said with a grim smile.

“Well spoken, Duke Dorian,” Fank clapped his red, brawny hand on Hawkmoon’s shoulder. “Now can I bring in the gifts.”

“By all means, Master Fank.”

“Lend me a couple of servants to help, if you will, for there’s six of ‘em and they’re powerful heavy. I brought them on two horses.”

A few moments later the servants came in, each holding two wrapped objects, one in each hand. Fank himself brought in the remaining two. He laid them on the flagstones at their feet. “Open them, gentlemen.”

Hawkmoon bent and pulled back the cloth that wrapped one of the gifts. He blinked as the light struck his eyes and he saw his own face reflected perfectly back at him. He was puzzled, dragging off the rest of the cloth to stare in astonishment at the object before him. The others, too, were murmuring in surprise.