Shaun almost staggered out of the debriefing room, his face pale and drawn from the hours of relentless interrogation he’d just undergone.

     He closed the door behind him, glad and relieved to put solid wood between himself and the two military policemen, and leaned against the bare stone wall for a moment to give his pounding heart a chance to slow down a little. He wasn't allowed to rest for more than a moment, though, before one of the stern faced guards who'd been waiting outside barked an order at him to get moving. Shaun gave him a withering look, but he had no spirit for the witty one liner he might otherwise have treated him to. Instead he simply began walking, his eyes downcast as he thought miserably of what the future might have in store for him.

     This was the end of their third day of solid, merciless questioning during which the six of them had been kept separated, unable to compare notes. Treated almost like criminals in fact. The military policemen into whose hands they'd been delivered had asked again and again why they hadn't returned to Tharia the moment they’d been able to, and Shaun knew that, if he wasn't careful, the carefully worded explanations he was giving would began to sound like desperate pleading, like excuses. Like a child who'd been caught red handed in a fenced orchard and was trying to explain why he had a half eaten apple in his hand.

     They never came right out and accused him of cowardice, but it was there in their faces, and as the ruthless interrogation went on he found it harder and harder to remember Resalintas’s reaction to the Lenses of Farseeing and his reassurance that, if necessary, he would speak up in their defence. The Hangman’s noose began to loom ever larger in his imagination, but it wasn't for himself that he was most afraid. In his mind, he saw the same accusations being levelled at Diana, despite the fact that she had the protection of a powerful Goddess that no man would dare offend.

     Gradually, though, the tone of the interrogation had begun to change. They began to ask about other aspects of their long mission, and how they had acquitted themselves in front of the slaver and the people of the Fellowship. They seemed determined to find them guilty of something else, something separate from their delayed return from Kronos, and Shaun grasped at it with desperate hope. If they were so determined to find them guilty of something else, did that mean that they knew that the desertion charge wouldn’t stick? It was a thin straw to grasp hold of, but he held onto it nonetheless. They were going to get through this. They would be freed. Acquitted of all charges and allowed to return to the war…

     …in which they would probably die.

     He smiled ruefully. There was death, though, and there was death, and being killed by a ruthless enemy while trying to defend those he loved was infinitely preferable to being killed by his own side. Stripped of honour. Remembered with shame by his loved ones who would never speak his name again. He nodded to himself. He would be content to die in the war, he decided. So long as he knew that Diana was safe.

     He endured the interrogation, therefore, forcing himself to remain calm as the military policemen found one incident after another to find issue with. The taller of the two men in particular seemed to take a special delight in accusing him of every crime imaginable, either directly or by implication, while his tight, thin mouth twisted in a grimace of distaste as if Shaun was some gutter filth that preyed on invalids and old ladies. The young soldier found himself praying that his sister was being debriefed by someone else. Someone less openly aggressive.

     It wasn't so much what they were saying as the way they were saying it. The tall man's voice had a tone of scathing sarcasm that had merely irritated the young soldier at first but which had soon had him quivering with anger in his seat, and there had been times when the only thing stopping him from reacting with open hostility had been the knowledge of how delighted his interrogators would have been to have something concrete to charge him with. He tried to tell himself that they were trying to provoke him into speaking without thinking, into blurting out something incriminating, but the longer the questioning went on, the more certain Shaun became that the military policeman was enjoying himself. That he got a kick out of tormenting his victims.

     Shaun had gotten his own back by keeping rigidly in control of himself. The worse the tall man became, the more Shaun had leaned back in his hard wooden chair and taken deep breaths before every answer, choosing his words carefully, keeping deliberately relaxed, and as the hours passed he'd been delighted to see angry frustration growing behind the policeman's eyes. It hadn't satisfied the young soldier as much as a solid punch in the mouth would have done, but it had been something.

     As he trudged wearily back to his quarters, it occurred to him that the tall man might actually have saved his bacon. He knew that if there was the slightest discrepancy or inconsistency between the stories he and the other questers were telling, their interrogators would seize upon it like a hound on a rabbit and, if they weren't able to provide a good explanation, the board of discipline would come down on them like a ton of bricks. If his interrogators had been friendly and reasonable, Shaun would probably have relaxed and let his tongue run away with him, with who knows what disastrous consequences. By driving him to pause before each answer and choose his words carefully, though, the tall man had inadvertently caused him to answer much more sensibly and intelligently, making him sound far more professional and responsible than he really was. Maybe enough to convince them of his innocence. And we are innocent! he reminded himself. We haven't done anything wrong!

     Even if their superiors believed every word of their incredible story, though, there was more than a small chance of criminal charges being brought against them anyway. The Beltharan intelligence corps had seized upon the old Agglemonian observatory with all the delight of a greedy child stumbling across a hidden hoard of chocolates and they were angry with Shaun and the others for not using the Coronet of Farspeaking to inform them of it immediately. They could have found a way to get around the issue of having had no claim to them, they seemed to think. They could have come to some kind of an understanding with the Kronosians, something that the Priests of Samnos would have accepted. Shaun’s insistence that they hadn't known what the coronet was sounded lame even to his own ears.

     Also, as they had expected, it hadn't taken their interrogators long to winkle out the real reason for their delayed return from Kronos. Their decision to help a race of humanoids none of them had ever heard of while the world was fighting for survival was widely regarded as criminally irresponsible. The questers had run the risk of being recaptured by the Konnens, in which case the Beltharans might never have found out about the observatory. Some of their regular army interrogators had also given voice to their anger at their willingness to risk losing them such a precious asset, although others seemed to give a vague impression of approval for precisely the same reason. It was something that could go either way for them, and they could only hope that their superiors would be sympathetic and understanding.

     The guards escorted him back to his temporary quarters in the central barracks of the city of Tara, then took up position outside the door. It was a small room bearing an unpleasant resemblance to a prison cell with a hard cot, a chair and a cupboard for his few possessions. The small, barred window looked out over the parade ground where a drill Sergeant was giving his platoon a hard time. He collapsed into the chair, held his face in his hands and sighed heavily as he contemplated the resumption of the interrogation the next day.

     It seemed the military police had heard as much as they wanted to, though, because when morning came he was taken to a different room. Larger and brighter, with yellow sunlight shining in through three large windows. The floor was covered with warm wooden floorboards, a welcome change from the hard ceramic tiles of the interrogation room, and the walls were decorated with plaques telling of platoons, regiments and individuals that had received various sporting and bravery awards.

     A long table divided the room in two. Behind it were three serious looking officers, and on his side were Matthew, Thomas and the others, waiting for him. They were looking weary and exhausted despite having had a full night’s sleep, and he got an idea of how bad he himself was looking by the looks they gave him as he walked over to join them.

     “You okay?” asked Matthew in concern.

     “Fine,” replied Shaun, forcing a smile as he took his place beside them. “You?”

     “Hanging on,” said his brother bravely. He started to say something else but one of the officers looked up and glared at him, shutting him up instantly. They contented themselves with glances and smiles at each other after that, to reassure each other that they were all right, while the officers whispered to each other and shuffled papers. One or another of them looked up at them from time to time as if wondering what they would look like in prison coveralls.

     Finally, the most senior of the officers, grey haired Colonel Rustin, looked up from the transcripts of their interviews and fixed them with his hard grey eyes. "You'll be glad to know that we've finally reached a consensus of opinion regarding your conduct over the past couple of months," he said, his voice flat and emotionless.

     The questers tensed up in anticipation, but the officer fell silent again while he studied each of them in turn as if inviting them to guess. Shaun felt anger rising again as he saw the others shuffling nervously. Just get on with it, he thought impatiently. Are we going to get medals or a noose?

     “We are satisfied with your account of events,” said the Colonel at last, and they all let out their breaths in relief. “You are cleared of any suspicion of having deliberately delayed your return from the Underworld in order to avoid participation in the war. We are satisfied that, with only one exception, all your actions were directed towards your earliest possible return to duty, and that even that exception, your decision to remain in Kronosia in order to overthrow the Noble families, was motivated by a desire to help the moon trogs. To gain us a valuable ally and gain us the possession of the Lenses of Farseeing. We are satisfied that you were not motivated by cowardice, and you need not have any fear of this suspicion ever returning to blight your careers.”

     “Thank you, Sir,” replied Shaun, almost giddy with relief.

     “We will still want to talk with you over the next few days, to go over some points of your story in greater detail,” continued Rustin, “but as you are no longer under any suspicion there will no longer be any need to keep you separated. You are free to meet with each other, and with anyone else in the barracks, as much as you wish, and there will no longer be guards on your doors. You may go out into the city, so long as you are granted permission and issued with exit passes. Then, in a few days time, we’ll find a way to put your talents to good use in the war.”

     "We're looking forward to it, Sir," said Thomas with a relieved grin. "I think you'll find we make a pretty good team."

     The smile faded, though, as the Colonel gave him a sympathetic look. Shaun saw the wizard's face go as white as he guessed that something bad was coming. Lirenna apparently had the same premonition because she reached out to take Thomas's hand and Shaun saw both their fingers go white as they gripped each other tightly.

     “Ah yes," said Rustin. "Now we come to the other reason for your being here. We don’t like to break up a successful team, so long as it’s a well balanced team. A year ago you were a well balanced team. You three wizards had only just graduated from the University. You knew only a few low level spells and it took the three of you together to make up for your weaknesses as individuals.

     “However, you have all progressed considerably since then. You claim in your testimony that you now believe yourself to be capable of casting mid level spells, although you haven’t yet learned any. My good friend Delarno here…” He indicated one of the other officers, a military wizard, who nodded in acknowledgement. “…tells me that there are a great many powerful attack spells in the mid level. We will make sure that you are taught some of them as soon as possible. You’ll need them. Your two friends claim that they are also close to mastering the middle level of spell use.”

     He paused to take a deep breath. “We’ve lost a lot of wizards during the past few months. We need every one we can possibly lay our hands on, and although you’re still a long way from the big league you’ve now become powerful enough to be quite useful in the war. Too useful to have all three of you in the same place. I’m afraid there’s simply no alternative. From now on, the three of you will have to go your separate ways.”

     The wizards stared in shock. “We’re to be split up?” the demi shae finally managed to say.

     “I'm afraid so. We have decided that you would best be used as the core of a new Wolfpack team. You would essentially be doing the same kind of work as you have been. The Sceptre of Samnos, the Orb of Proofing…”

     The Colonel fell silent as he realised that the questers were no longer listening. They were staring at each other as the magnitude of what he’d just said sank in. A Wolfpack team? Them? The Wolfpacks were legendary! Tales of their missions were told in alehouses and boarding houses all across the Empire. Pack members tended to try to remain incognito, since anyone who found out what they were would pester them interminably for tales of their adventures. Some of their greatest missions were even made into plays and performed in the finest theatres of the Empire. Was the Colonel toying with them? Shaun wondered. Was this some kind of a joke? As he thought about it, though, the merits of the idea began to grow on him. The Colonel was right, it was exactly the kind of thing they’d been doing ever since first meeting each other.

     “A Wolfpack team?” said Jerry hesitantly.

     “But not all of us in the same team,” said Thomas, sounding stricken.

     “It won't be so bad,” said the Colonel sympathetically. “You’ll still be seeing each other between missions and one day, if the Gods are willing, the war will be over. I know that the two of you have a romantic involvement, but we all have loved ones we’d like to be with so I understand how you’re feeling. It’s been nearly two years since I last saw my wife and children.”

     "But..." began Thomas. "But... I mean, we don't want to be split up! We want to stay together!"

     "Damn right!" agreed Jerry. "We're a team! We're good together!"

     "The decision has been made," said Rustin, his eyes narrowing a little. "The decision stands."

     "But other wizards go around in groups!" protested Thomas. "What about the Four of Fendoom? The Spindrift Kindred?"

     "They aren't Beltharan military. You are. You will obey your orders. Your new assignments will be posted in due course."

     Thomas stared in horror and he looked across at Shaun, his eyes begging the woodsman to say that they couldn't do this to them. The woodsman would tell these military men that they were free people, able to go where they wanted and do what they wanted, but of course that wasn't true, was it? Not since they'd signed their enlistment papers upon their return from Sen Camaris with the Orb of Proofing. At the time, joining the army to help fight the war had seemed so obvious, so natural, that they'd done it without hesitation and only now were the real consequences coming home to them. They'd been split up in Fort Battleaxe, of course, but they'd all still been in the same city, able to see each other now and then. Now, though, they might well be sent to opposite sides of the world, separated by thousands of miles for months at a time. The army owned them, and it was far too late to do anything about it.