"Hold still!" said Captain Benjamin Nerus impatiently. "I can't stitch this thing if you keep moving."

General Canta Patroclus held up a hand to say he understood, then braced himself as the Captain inserted the needle into the skin above his right eye. Around him, those of his men who had avoided injury were tending to those not so fortunate. Merely binding wounds with bandages for the most part. The General's injury had been dripping blood into his eyes, though. Interfering with his vision, and so required the kind of attention usually left until the casualty could be taken to the houses of healing. The General endured it stoically as the needle penetrated his skin again and again, therefore, each time with a sharp jab of pain, until the Captain finally tied it off and cut the thread with his knife.

"There," he said as he eyed his work with satisfaction. "Matron Hattie couldn't have done a better job, though I do say so myself."

"How are the others?" asked the General, fingering the fine stitching.

Nerus sighed. "Could have been a lot worse," he said as he took the General's hand and gently pulled it away. They'd treated the injury with alcohol, of course, but he might still get it infected if he kept dabbing his dirty fingers all over it.

He took a bandage from the medical kit and began wrapping it around the General's head. "No-one died. Agrippa is the only serious casualty. Other than him, it's just bites and cuts. They'll need to be seen to, of course, and soon. You know how fast con bites fester."

Patroclus nodded. "My fault. I led us right into the ambush..."

"You got us out of the ambush. There must have been twenty of them, and they took us cold, by surprise. According to standard military doctrine, we should all be dead." He glanced across at a large, hairy corpse lying in the entrance to one of the corridors.

The General smiled. "I've never been a big fan of standard military doctrine."

"That has been commented upon by many people. Makes me wonder how you ever got to be a General."

"His Lordship and I have something in common. We both like results, and we don't much care how we get them."

He waited patiently for the Captain to finish bandaging his head, then reached for his backpack and removed the Coronet of Farspeaking. The bandages made it awkward to sit it on his head and, as usual, he was acutely aware of how it looked on him with all the gold and jewels. Couldn't they have made it look a little more military? he thought in annoyance. It had clearly been made for a woman, all those centuries ago, but they couldn't afford to be fussy. It worked, and that was what mattered.

He adjusted the bandages until he had the thing more or less on his head and then concentrated. After a few moments the single ruby between and above his eyes began to flicker with an inner red fire as contact was made. The flicker failed to become a steady glow, though, indicating that the spell connecting him with his Lord had weakened still further. The further they went, the weaker it got.

"My Lord," he said out loud, "Can you hear me?"

"General?" said a voice in return. It sounded distorted, echoey and weak, as if it were coming through a pipe hundreds of feet long. "I can barely hear you."

"You're very weak as well, Lord," replied Patroclus, raising his voice. "I'm afraid that if we go much further we may be cut off altogether."

"Don't go any further then," said Lord Rajus. "It's important that I be able to call you back when the Konnens give in to our demands. Just circle around the city at the same distance you are now."

"Yes Lord," replied the General. "I'm afraid I'll have to send some of my men back right away, though. They're injured and need immediate medical attention."

"Why, what happened?" asked Lord Rajus in alarm. "Have the Konnens found you? Is the key safe?"

"Yes, Lord, the key is safe. We were attacked by a tribe of cons. We drove them away, but suffered casualties, mainly bites. Five people who'll need immediate medical attention if they're to be saved. I'd like Nerus to take them back to the city right away."

"That'll leave you with just six men. You'll be vulnerable if you're attacked again." There was silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. "Okay, send them back. I'll send some more men out to reinforce you, led by Captain Trask. They'll go to Greystone Cave, and you can use the Coronet to guide them in to you from there. The key must be kept safe at all costs."

"Thank you, Lord," replied Patroclus gratefully. Lord Rajus was right. He did feel very vulnerable out here with so few men around him. "Will there be anything else, Lord?"

"No, my friend. Just stay in touch. Farewell."

"Farewell, my Lord." The General removed the coronet and tucked it back into his backpack. "Okay, Nerus. Greystone Cave."

"Yes, General. Okay, Claudus, Tollus, gather your stuff. Diacretian, Grippina, give your stuff to them. You'll be carrying Agrippa."

"Sir, I'm fine!" Grippina protested, holding up a bandaged hand. "This'll heal in no time..."

"It's a con bite, you idiot. Remember want happened to Lusil last year?"

"I treated it with alcohol, Sir. It's not infected..."

"Of course it's bloody infected! Con mouths are filthier than a three month latrine. If it's not treated you'll lose your whole arm, maybe your life. You're going home, so hand your stuff over." The man grumbled under his breath, but obeyed.

Five minutes later they were ready to leave. Patroclus wished them luck, Nerus thanked him, and then they set off, the remainder of the General's diminished patrol staring enviously after them as they vanished from sight around a bend in the tunnel.

"Sammel, you're my new number two," the General then said. "Let's move out."

The Corporal nodded and began giving orders to the others.

They chose a tunnel that would take them past the city to their left. It was one of the unlit ones, but it led to what had once been a particularly rich lode of iron and which was now, therefore, a particularly tangled labyrinth of tunnels surrounding one of the largest caverns in the area. The light faded as they went, and one of his men lit one of their slow burning torches to light their way. He waved it from side to side as they went, to prevent the smoke and fumes from building up around it and putting it out.

Patroclus took a deep swallow of water from the large, two gallon canister he and all the others were wearing on their backs, under their small backpacks. He wasn't thirsty, but like all Kronosians he was familiar with the strange illness known as floatfever that afflicted all those who ventured outside the city's gravity sphere without adequate water, the cruelly deceptive illness that stopped you from feeling thirsty until you almost collapsed from dehydration.

They took precautions against being seen, being wary not only of the cons but also of any Konnen patrols that might be in the area. They'd seen a surprising number of Konnens in the caverns, many more than they'd expected to find, and having to keep stopping to hide from them was making them nervous and jumpy.

Dammit! thought Patroclus wearily. We tried so hard to keep this mission secret! What did we do wrong? Maybe we did nothing wrong and whatever magical device Lord Bastard's using to spy on us is so good that we just can't keep any secrets from him at all.

He consoled himself with the thought that, even if the Konnens did know they were out here somewhere, they clearly didn't know exactly where they were. If they did, Lord Basil would have sent half his army to ambush them. So long as we can hide long enough, he thought, the plan still has a chance to work and it will be house Traldia that has the last laugh.

☆☆☆

Rakkus and the Konnens he was leading knew nothing of the Traldians, though. Lord Basil had sent more men out to find Patroclus, of course, since Lord Rajus had delivered his ultimatum, but they hadn't had a chance to pass on the new mission to Rakkus who was, therefore, still focused entirely on finding the Tharians. It was pure chance, therefore, that it was Rakkus and his men, rather than one of the other Konnen patrols, who stumbled across Patroclus's party later that day.

The Konnens were in a tunnel that ran parallel and above the one the Traldians were in. It was lit, in contrast to the one the Traldians were in, and the result was that the Traldians were nothing more than dark shapes as they passed furtively by below.

Rakkus grinned evilly to himself as he watched the six figures passing by at the other end of a vertical connecting tunnel. He couldn't see them very well in the darkness. All he could see were their barest outlines lit by the flickering light of their torch, but he could see that there were six of them and that was enough to convince him that they were the Tharians. The dungeon guard was grinning in eager anticipation, therefore. Soon he would return in triumph and Lord Basil would be pleased with him. Very pleased indeed. Maybe pleased enough to kick that bitch of a concubine out of his bed and replace her with someone whose love and devotion she would never be able to match.

He raised his hand to signal his men, all of whom would have given almost anything to be anywhere other than so close to the filthy and depraved head guard. The fact was that he'd been put in command over them, though, and disobedience was punishable by public execution. They obeyed instantly, therefore; five of them climbing silently down the shaft to take up position behind Patroclus and his men while the others followed Rakkus along the tunnel that ran above and parallel to the one the Traldians were in. There was another vertical shaft connecting the two tunnels a few hundred yards ahead and Rakkus wanted to reach it first, trapping the Traldians between the two halves of his divided force.

He succeeded easily, since the Traldians were moving slowly and silently, anxious not to draw attention to themselves from anyone who might be nearby, and Rakkus laughed inwardly as he dropped down the shaft in front of them. Too late, renegade dogs! he said to himself. You've been found and now you're going to pay for humiliating me in front of my Lord. You're going to pay dearly! He waited until his men were all gathered behind him, ready for battle, and then signaled for them to uncover their sun stones.

The Traldians stared in shock as the opaque coverings were torn away from five glowing globes of marble, allowing their piercing white light to spill out against the walls and ceiling of the tunnel ahead of them. Then the Konnens dropped them to free their hands for fighting, casting eerily waving shadows as the globes were left to drift behind them, bouncing gently off moss covered walls as if in slow motion.

They put arrows to their bows, aiming from their bellies, the centre of gravity of their bodies, so that the recoil from the flying arrow would merely push them backwards, not send them tumbling helplessly head over feet, easy prey for their enemies. The noble houses of Kronosia had had centuries to master the art of fighting in low gravity and had become very good at it.

☆☆☆

"Konnens!" shouted Patroclus, taking his own bow from its place across his back. "Defend yourselves!"

He reached for his arrows, but Rakkus's arrow hit him first, its momentum pushing the General backwards and spinning him around as it tore through his arm, releasing a cloud of blood droplets that sprayed out in front of his widely staring eyes. There was no pain, though, and the General found himself able to think and plan with perfect clarity. How did they find us? No, worry about that later. Deal with the present situation first. Organise our defence. Protect the key. The key!

He reached out with his good hand to grab at the vegetation coating the tunnel walls, bringing himself back under control, then looked behind to see the other half of the divided Konnen force behind them. Another perfect ambush! Two in one day! Maybe the old Gods were real after all and he'd done something to offend them.

They had nowhere to go, nothing to give them cover, and they were being showered with arrows from both directions. It was a hopeless situation, but he had to find a way out of it. His Lord was depending on him. "Forward!" he ordered his men. "We'll fight our way through them!"

Even as he spoke, though, one of his men was hit in the back of the neck, and his tumbling body struck two of his fellows, spoiling their aim and ruining the counterattack they'd been trying to organise. Patroclus heard a horrid gurgling sound from behind him and knew that another of his men had been hit in the throat. They were being massacred and there was nothing they could do about it!

☆☆☆

The attack only lasted a handful of seconds, during which the Traldians failed to shoot a single arrow in self defence. The element of surprise had simply been too great. The only casualty suffered by the Konnens was caused by one of their own arrows, which missed every Traldian and continued on to hit the opposite Konnen group, grazing a man's leg. All the Traldians had been hit, either wounded or dead, and their bodies floated limply in the tunnel, slowly drifting down to the ground.

"Swords!" ordered Rakkus. "Finish it!"

The Konnens moved in, and those Traldians still conscious got ready to strike a last blow of defiance. Patroclus reached a trembling hand towards the dagger he carried in his belt, the only weapon remaining to him, but the head guard snatched it from him with a sneer of contempt, pushed him up against the tunnel wall and ran him through with a grunt of almost orgasmic pleasure.

He looked with satisfaction at the corpses, partially obscured from view by the crimson mist that hung in the air, slowly clearing as it settled out on the tunnel walls. They weren't the escaped traitors after all, he now saw, but the killing of six Traldians was still a good result and he wasn't too disappointed. He wiped his sword clean and sheathed it.

"Hey, that one you killed's a General," said one of his men, a handsome young lad called Antonius whom Rakkus had marked out as a possible future bedmate.

He looked closer and saw that the young man was right. A Traldian General, according to his rank pins, and his service bars said he'd been in the Traldian army for nearly forty years. "Must be Patroclus," he said. "Rajus's loyal lapdog. Well done, lad."

He put a hand on Antonius's forearm, savouring the feel of young, muscular flesh. The others glanced at each other, knowing what the gesture meant, and although Antonius paled at the man's touch he made no move to pull away. Yes, that's right, the head guard thought, smiling wickedly. You've heard the tales of what happens to those who refuse my advances. Some of them are still alive...

"What was Patroclus doing down here?" asked Glabbro, Rakkus's second in command.

"Dunno," replied the head guard. "Maybe the answer's in here."

He opened Patroclus's backpack and pulled out the contents. He found the key and the Coronet of Farspeaking almost immediately, and stared at them curiously. A Tharian soldier who came across such treasures, made of precious metals and glittering jewels, might have lusted after them and tried to keep them for himself, but in Kronosia they were only a small, insignificant fraction of the fortune brought up to the smallest moon by the eight noble Houses three hundred years before and were worth virtually nothing to the inhabitants of the moon city. Or at least they looked small and insignificant. Rakkus had no way of knowing about the magic they contained.

The head guard gave them nothing more than a small, curious glance, therefore, before setting them aside and searching through the rest of the backpack's contents, looking for secret orders or anything else that might explain the mystery of a Traldian General in the caverns. He found nothing, though. Nothing that you wouldn't expect a soldier to carry as part of his standard equipment. He scratched his head in puzzlement as he looked back at the coronet and the key. They were the only items that were in any way unusual or out of the ordinary, so they had to be part of the answer.

He thought about it for a few moments, but thinking wasn't something he was very good at and after a minute or so he shook his head dismissively and abandoned the problem. Who cares, he thought angrily. They're dead now, so what difference does it make? He simply put the coronet and the key in his own backpack, therefore, thinking they'd look nice on a shelf back home, and then he led them on to continue their search for the Tharians. Killing the Traldians had been an interesting diversion, but he still had to redeem himself in the eyes of his beloved Lord. He still had fugitives to find.

"We'll try this way, towards the moon trogs' farm domes," Rakkus said, leading the way down the tunnel. "They may have gone to them for sanctuary."

"What if they're already with the moon trogs?" asked Glabbro.

"Then we'll get 'em back," said Rakkus, grinning evilly. "No bunch o' stupid moon monkeys is going t' stop me getting their heads."

The men glanced at each other nervously, but they said nothing and Rakkus nodded with satisfaction. They knew their place. They knew how to obey, no matter what orders they were given. They think I'm crazy to go into moon trog territory, he thought. Well, maybe I am. Maybe I'm crazy enough to take on the entire moon trog nation all by myself if they stand in the way of my vengeance on the Tharians. And if every one of my men gets killed but me, then that's a price well worth paying.