“Here he is,” Vodalus said. “Now you see them both before you.”

One of the Ascians spoke to the other two in their own tongue. Both nodded and the one who had spoken said, “Only he who acts against the populace need hide his face.”

There was a lengthy pause, then Vodalus hissed at me,

“Answer her?”

“Answer what? There has been no question.”

The Ascian said, “Who is the friend of the populace? He who aids the populace. Who is the enemy of the populace?”

Speaking very rapidly, Vodalus asked, “To the best of your knowledge are you, or is this unconscious man here, the leader of the peoples of the southern half of this hemisphere?”

“No,” I said. It was an easy lie, since from what I had seen, the Autarch was the leader of very few in the Commonwealth. To Vodalus I added under my breath, “What kind foolishness is this? Do they believe I would tell them if I were the Autarch?”

“All we say is being transmitted to the north.”

One of the Ascians who had not spoken previously spoke now. Once she gestured in our direction.

When she was finished, all three sat deathly still. I had the impression that they heard some voice inaudible to me, and that they did not dare move while it spoke; but that may have been mere imagination on my part. Vodalus fidgeted, I shifted my position to put a little less weight on my injured leg, and the Autarch’s narrow chest heaved to the unsteady rhythm of his breathing, but the three of them remained as immobile as figures in a painting.

At last the one who had spoken first said, “All persons belong to the populace.” At that the others seemed to relax.

“This man is ill,” Vodalus said, looking toward the Autarch,” and he has been a useful servant to me, though I suppose his usefulness is now ended. The other I have promised to one of my followers.”

“The merit of sacrifice falls on him who without thought to his own convenience offers what he has toward the service of the populace.” The Ascian woman’s tone made it clear that no further argument was possible.

Vodalus looked toward me and shrugged, then turned on his heel and strode out of the dome.

Almost at once a file of Ascian officers entered carrying lashes.

We were imprisoned in an Ascian tent perhaps twice the size of my cell in the ziggurat. There was a fire there but no bedding, and the officers who had carried in the Autarch had merely dropped him on the ground beside it. After working my hands free, I tried to make him comfortable, turning him over on his back as he had been in the palanquin and arranging his arms at his sides.

About us the army lay quiet, or at least as quiet as an Ascian army ever is. From time to time someone far off cried out—in sleep, it seemed—but for the most part there was no sound but the slow pacing of the sentries outside. I cannot express the horror that the thought of going north to Ascia evoked in me then. To see only the Ascians’ wild, starved faces and to encounter myself, no doubt for the remainder of my life, whatever it was that had driven them mad, seemed to me a more horrible fate than any the clients in the Matachin Tower were ever forced to endure. I tried to lift the skirt of the tent, thinking that the sentries could do nothing worse than take my life; but the edges were welded to the ground by some means I did not understand. All four walls were of a slick, tough substance I could not tear, and Miles’s razor had been taken from me by my six female guards. I was about to rush out the door when the Autarch’s well-remembered voice whispered, “Wait.” I dropped to my knees beside him, suddenly afraid we would be overheard.

“I thought you were—sleeping.”

“I suppose I have been in a coma most of the time. But when I was not, I feigned, so Vodalus would not question me. Are you going to escape?”

“Not without you, Sieur. Not now. I had given you up for dead.”

“You were not far wrong ... certainly not by so much as a day. Yes, I think that is best, you must escape. Father Inire is with the insurgents. He was to bring you what is necessary, then help you get away. But we are no longer there ... are we? He may not be able to aid you. Open my robe. What you first require is thrust into my waistband.”

I did as he asked; the flesh my fingers brushed was as cold as a corpse’s. Near his left hip I saw a hilt of silvery metal no thicker than a woman’s finger. I drew the weapon forth; the mace was not half a span in length, but thick and strong, and of that deadly sharpness I had not felt since Baldanders’s mace had shattered Terminus Est

“You must not go yet,” the Autarch whispered.

“I will not leave you while you live,” I said. “Do you doubt me?”

“We will both live, and both go. You know the abomination.” His hand closed on mine. “The eating of the dead, to devour their dead lives. But there is another way you do not know, and another drug.

You must take it, and swallow the living cells of my forebrain.”

I must have drawn away, for his hand gripped my own harder.

“When you lie with a woman, you thrust your life into hers so that perhaps there will be new life.

When you do as I have commanded you, my life and the lives of all those who live in me will be continued in you. The cells will enter your own nervous system and multiply there. The drug is in the vial I wear at my neck, and that blade will split the bones of my skull like pine. I have had occasion to use it, and I promise it Do you recall how you swore to serve me when I shut the book? Use the knife now, and go as quickly as you can.”