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to keep an eye
on the native garrison. The rest evacuated the wounded from the
Paper Tower.
    For several minutes I remained unchaperoned. I eyed the big
stone chest. Temptation arose, but I resisted. I did not want to
know.
     
     
    Candy got back after all the excitement. He told us the legate
was at the pier offloading his troops.
    The men were packing and loading, some muttering about events in
the Paper Tower, others bitching about having to leave. You stop
moving and immediately put down roots. You accumulate things. You
find a woman. Then the inevitable happens and you have to leave it
all. There was a lot of pain floating around our barracks.
    I was at the gate when the northerners came. I helped turn the
capstan that raised the portcullis. I felt none too proud. Without
my approval the Syndic might never have been betrayed.
    The legate occupied the Bastion. The Company began its
evacuation. It was then about the third hour after midnight and the
streets were deserted.
    Two-thirds of the way to the Gate of Dawn the Captain ordered a
halt. The sergeants assembled everyone able to fight. The rest
continued with the wagons.
    The Captain took us north on the Avenue of the Older Empire,
where Beryl's emperors had memorialized themselves and their
triumphs. Many of the monuments are bizarre, and celebrate such
minutia as favorite horses, gladiators, or lovers of either
sex.
    I had a bad feeling even before we reached the Rubbish Gate.
Uneasiness grew into suspicion, and suspicion blossomed into grim
certainty as we entered the martial fields. There is nothing near
the Rubbish Gate but the Fork Barracks.
    The Captain made no specific declaration. When we reached the
Fork compound every man knew what was afoot.
    The Urban Cohorts were as sloppy as ever. The compound gate was
open and the lone watchman was asleep. We trooped inside unresisted.
The Captain began assigning tasks.
    Between five and six thousand men remained there. Their officers
had restored some discipline, having entice them into restoring
their weapons to the armories. Traditionally, Beryl's captains
trust their men with weapons only the eve of battle.
    Three platoons moved directly into the barracks, killing men in
their beds. The remaining platoon established a blocking position
at the far end of the compound.
    The sun was up before the Captain was satisfied. We withdrew and
hurried after our baggage train. There wasn't a man among us who
hadn't had his fill.
    We were not pursued, of course. No one came besieging the camp
we established on the Pillar of Anguish. Which was what it was all
about. That and the release of several years of pent-up anger.
     
     
    Elmo and I stood at the tip of the headland, watching the
afternoon sun play around the edges of a storm far out to sea. It
had danced in and swamped our encampment with its cool deluge, then
had rolled off across the water again. It was beautiful, though not
especially colorful.
    Elmo had not had much to say recently. "Something eating you,
Elmo?" The storm moved in front of the light, giving the sea the
look of rusted iron. I wondered if the cool had reached Beryl.
    "Reckon you can guess, Croaker."
    "Reckon I can." The Paper Tower. The Fork Barracks. Our ignoble
treatment of our commission. "What do you think it will be like,
north of the sea?"
    "Think the black witch will come, eh?"
    "He'll come, Elmo. He's just having trouble getting his puppets
to jig to his tune." As who did not, trying to tame that insane
city?
    "Uhm." And, "Look there."
    A pod of whales plunged past rocks lying off the headland. I
tried to appear unimpressed, and failed. The beasts were
magnificent, dancing in the iron sea.
    We sat down with our backs toward the lighthouse. It seemed we
looked at a world never defiled by Man. Sometimes I suspect it
would be better for our absence. "Ship out there," Elmo said.
    I didn't see it till its sail caught the fire of the afternoon
sun, becoming an orange triangle edged with gold, rocking