LITMIR.BIZ

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smouldering ruins remained of the Mori settlement.

      * * *

      Duke Wolf Madraga had delivered his ultimatum to the survivors. Now he stood among the smoking remains of the skin tents and regarded with satisfaction the huddled corpses that littered the ground.

      Large numbers of Mori had died this night. Both the men and their strangely warlike women had put up an impressive fight though they had been significantly outnumbered and outmagicked. He had to respect them for that. The duke bore the Mori no particular malice. This punitive expedition had simply been the logical result of the continuing Mori raids on peaceful Mirayan settlements. They needed to be taught a lesson. He hoped that this attack would finally make them learn.

      He hoped, too, that the handful of women left guarding the children in the tower would surrender. He had no taste for unnecessary killing, even in the case of Mori women who were quite likely to stab you in the back given half the chance. Unnecessary killing was wasteful.

      Wolf was a practical man: cool and efficient. It showed in his appearance. Though he had the leathery face of one who had spent most of his forty years campaigning in all weathers, there was something very neat about him - the way he moved, his expression, his compact body, the cut of his greying hair. He was not tall and not at all an impressive physical figure, yet his soldiers trusted him and followed him with unswerving loyalty.

      'How goes it, brother-in-law?' a jovial voice hailed him.

      The High Chieftain of Seagan and Wolf Madraga's liege lord, Prince Alexus Scarvan, came limping through the debris toward him. A bad leg wound four years before had put an end to his fighting career, but he was still able to survey the battlefield.

      He is not aging well, thought Wolf Madraga. Sad when a man is forced to give up his life's vocation. Scarvan's always large body had softened and spread with inactivity, and his face was red and puffy. He was a lecherous bull of a man, fond of women, food and wine, but he had been a good leader, and had brought his followers from a rout in war-torn Miraya to new lands and honours on the island of Yarmar. Wolf respected his skills even if occasionally he had to distract him from mauling unwilling serving girls.

      Wolf had always been a loyal vassal to Scarvan and was happy to be so. He had married Scarvan's sister and, though she was long dead, the bond between the two men was still strong. There had been a time when Wolf had been regarded as Scarvan's logical successor, but due to the ministrations of the very skilled native physicians, Scarvan's sickly son seemed likely to survive after all. This did not bother Wolf. He had only a practical amount of ambition and was content with his large dukedom. It was more than he could have expected back in Miraya.

      The only tension that had ever occurred between Wolf and Scarvan was due to the black and white clad priests of Mir who even now followed in Scarvan's wake. In Wolf's opinion, during the last few years they had come to have far more influence over Scarvan than was reasonable.

      'Well, you've done a fine night's work here, brother-in-law,' Scarvan said, clapping Wolf on the arm with one of his big paws.

      'Aye,' said one of the priests at Scarvan's side. 'Watch them burning in their own sin.'

      No wonder these priests had so little luck converting the natives, Wolf thought, chilled by the avid look in their eyes. He turned away, only to be confronted by another avid face.

      Giron Mori.

      'You promised me Eldene's widow, Lord Wolf. I brought you through their magic so you could take Eldene. You promised me Elena Starchild.'

      'Yes, yes,' Wolf said. 'You may have first pick of the female captives, Giron.'

      'So you're not going to fireball the tower?'

      'We shall if they don't surrender.'

      'No!' Giron shouted. 'You promised me!'

      'Shut up!' Wolf said. 'I doubt it will come to that. Women seldom have the guts for self-destruction.'

      'You promised me Elena Starchild! She's in that tower!' Giron lunged at Wolf. A couple of men-at-arms grabbed him even as he moved.

      'For Mir's sake! Just wait, you fool.' Wolf nodded at the men. 'Take him away and cool him down.'

      'Lusty fellow!' Scarvan said in amusement. 'These Mori are animals. But I'd put him to death if I were you. I've got no time for traitors.'

      'Yes, it's a tempting thought. But if I deal honestly with him others may betray their leaders. Eldene may be dead but there are plenty of other Mori men out there.'

      'I'm curious to see this Elena Starchild,' Scarvan said.

      'You'd better hope they surrender, then. We'll lose too many men in an assault to make it worth our while to take the tower. Mori woman are good archers, and vicious when they're defending their children.'

      'Like bitches with their pups,' Scarvan grinned. 'Are they pretty though?'

      No doubt he'd want to sample some of that prettiness tonight.

      'You have to watch your back with them,' Wolf said. He never made use of captives, preferring his women to give some semblance of consent even if it was only bought with money. 'They spin and weave like all women and they make fine field slaves.'

      'Valuable enough, then,' Scarvan said. 'I'll give you a good price for the woolworkers if you get them out.'

      'Done!'

      At that moment there was a shout.

      A green flag waved out of a window in the tower. The duke turned and moved closer. A single arrow flew out but bounced uselessly off the magical protection barrier that covered him.

      'Who's leading them?' Scarvan asked of a nearby man-at-arms. He didn't speak any native languages.

      'Sonnette Verdey, Eldene's mother. Like most of these native tribes she's called queen. Her son was only a war leader.'

      'Perversion of nature,' Father Gaius muttered.

      'Who in their right mind follows a woman?' Scarvan snorted. 'These tribes! No wonder Mir has allowed us to beat them.'

      There was a general nodding among the priests.

      'She's agreeing to come out if we don't kill the boy children,' said the man. 'The duke's giving his word.'

      'She's got no choice,' Scarvan said, who had made many such deals in his time.

      'Eldene got any sons?' Scarvan asked when Wolf had come back to his side.

      'Just a daughter. This is the end of the direct male line, though no doubt someone will rise up to fill the gap.'

      'Just like old times this,' Scarvan said. He clapped Wolf on the shoulder.

      Wolf grinned back at him. He'd always been fond of the old devil. They were two men certain of their power and their loyalty to one another. It was to be the last time.

      The door of the tower opened.

      The mages moved forward to check which of the captives could use magic and disabled them with iron witch manacles. Women and children filed out, defeated. Their heads were bowed and covered. Some of them were sobbing. The Mori were short, dark-haired, olive-skinned people, but there was one among them who was noticeably taller. As she came through the door the child she was leading began to pull back. She leaned with noticeable grace to pick the child up and as she straightened her shawl fell off her head.

      Everyone stopped. Every man in the clearing stared. The mages forgot their duties. The mouths of the priests fell open. Even the men stripping the dead bodies felt the silence and looked up to stare at her.

      For she was fair as gold with skin like ivory and huge, dark green eyes. Her face! Each feature was so delicate and fine. Her neck was slender, her body shapely. Perfect. Surpassing perfect - astonishing! She was the most beautiful woman they had ever seen.

      And by the time the sun had fully risen, Wolf Madraga and Alexus Scarvan were no longer friends.

      'You promised

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