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is
such a problem.”
    “These males are few and really only a minor
irritant,” Dorteka said. “Taken worldwide their efforts
would not be noticeable. But they have concentrated their terrorism
in Reugge territories, especially around Maksche. And a large
portion of their attacks have been directed against guests of the
Reugge—clearly an effort to make us appear weak and incapable
of policing our fiefs. And the Serke, as you might expect, have
been making the most of the situation. We have been subjected to a
great deal of outside pressure. All part of the Serke maneuver
against us, of course. But we cannot prove they are behind
it.”
    “If the behavior of males here is unusual . . . Are these
rogues homegrown?” As an afterthought, she added the
appropriate, “Mistress?”
    Dorteka’s ears tilted in mild amusement. “You strike
to the heart of the matter. In fact, they are not. Our native males
are perfectly behaved, though they often lend passive support by
not reporting things they should. Sometimes they even grow so bold
as to provide places of hiding. Certainly they sympathize with the
rogues’ stated goals.”
    Those goals were nothing less than the overthrow and destruction
of all silthdom. A grand vision indeed, considering the iron grip
the Communities had upon the world.
     
----

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III
    Marika’s first attempt to visit Braydic did not go well at
all. Called out of the communications center, the technician met
her with evasive eyes and an obvious eagerness to be away. Marika
was both amused and pained, for she recalled who it was who had
held the door guards at bay in the heat of crisis.
    “No one saw you, Braydic,” she said. “You are
safe. I doubt the guards themselves could identify you. They were
on the edge of hysteria and probably recall you as being a demon
nine feet tall and six wide.”
    Braydic shuddered and stared at the floor. Marika was
disappointed, but knew what that momentary commitment had cost
Braydic. She had risked everything.
    “I owe you, Braydic. And I will not forget. Go, then, if
you fear having me for a friend. But I promise my friendship will
not falter for it.”
    Marika returned two weeks later. Braydic was no more sure of
herself. Pained, Marika determined that she would not return again
till she had attained some position of power, the shadow of which
could fall upon Braydic.
    She had begun to grow aware of the value and uses of power, and
to think of it. Often.
    That second visit, cut short, left her an hour free. She went to
her away place in the tower.
    Spring now threatened Maksche. The city lay under a haze from
factories working overtime to fulfill production quotas before
their workers had to report to the fields. Because of the
shortening growing seasons, every worker now had to labor in the
fields to get sufficient crops planted, tended, and harvested. Else
the city would not make it through the winter.
    This failing winter had been the worst in Maksche’s
history, though it was mild compared to those Marika had seen in
the upper Ponath. But succeeding winters would be worse. The
Maksche silth were now driving their tenants, their dependents,
their meth property, so Maksche would be prepared for the worst
when it came.
    A darkship rose from the square below. The blade of the dagger
turned till it pointed northward. Once it was above Maksche’s
highest structures, it fled into the distance.
    From the date of the most senior’s arrival, darkships had
been airborne every day the weather permitted, hunting nomads,
tracking nomads, scouting out their strong points and places of
meeting, gathering information for a summer campaign. The Reugge
could not challenge the Serke directly. They had neither the
strength nor proof other Communities would consider adequate. So
the most senior meant to defeat their efforts by obliterating their
minions.
    She was tough and bloodyminded, this Gradwohl. She meant to
fertilize the entire northern half of the Reugge