Goblin and One-Eye loosed something nasty. For a moment I thought it was some cruel conjured demon. It looked vile enough. And it did stall the imperials. But like much of their magic, it was illusion, not substance. The enemy soon caught on.

But we had us a head start. The men reached the parade before the imperials recollected themselves. They roared, certain they had us.

I reached the windwhale as it touched down. Silent snagged my arm as I started to scramble aboard. He indicated the documents we had scrounged. "Oh, damn! There isn't time."

Men scrambled past me during my moment of indecision. Then I tossed sword and bow topside and began pitching bundles up to Silent, who got somebody to relay them to the top.

A gang of imperials charged toward us. I started for an abandoned sword, saw I could not reach it in time, thought: Oh, shit-not now; not here.

Tracker stepped between me and them. His blade was like something out of legend. He killed three men in the blink of an eye, wounded another two before the imperials decided they faced someone preternatural. He took the offensive, though still outnumbered. Never have I seen a sword used with such skill, style, economy, and grace. It was a part of him, an extension of his will. Nothing could stand before it. For that moment I could believe old tales about magic swords.

Silent kicked me in the back, signed at me, "Quit gawking and get moving." I tossed up the last two bundles, began scaling the monster.

The men Tracker faced received reinforcements. He retreated. From up top someone sped arrows down. But I did not think he would make it. I kicked at a man who had gotten behind him. Another took his place, leapt at me…

Toadkiller Dog came out of nowhere. He locked his jaws in my assailant's throat. The man gurgled, responded as he might have if bitten by a krite. He lasted only a second.

Toadkiller Dog dropped away. I climbed a few feet, still 'trying to guard Tracker's back. He reached up. I caught his hand and heaved.

There were awful shouts and screams among the imperials. It was too dark to see why. I figured One-Eye, Goblin, and Silent were earning their keep.

Tracker flung up past me, took a firm hold, helped me. I climbed a few feet, looked down.

The ground was fifteen feet below. The windwhale was going up fast. The imperials stood around gawking. I fought my way to the top.

I looked down again as someone dragged me to safety. The fires in Rust were beneath us. Several hundred feet below. We were going up fast. No wonder my hands were cold.

Chills were not the reason I lay down shaking, though.

After it passed, I asked, "Anybody hurt? Where's my medical kit?"

Where, I wondered, were the Taken? How had we gotten through the day without a visit from our beloved enemy the Limper?