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in mind, to find out what power was blocking all attempts to magically spy on this city from afar, then destroy it. That could be a source of real trouble. Every one of the five men suspected that a bloodforge was responsible for this magical shielding, and every one believed he might have to find and destroy that bloodforge as a result.
    This would mean the death of every one of them. Perhaps this accounted for the mage-king’s interest in the group.
    Garkim sighed and surreptitiously massaged his aching head. He wondered if he had told the visitors too much about the bloodforges. Or, perhaps, too little. Should he have told them that the price for use of the bloodforge extended to the entire population of the Five Kingdoms? That his ever-increasing headaches were only one symptom of a physical weakening that year by year spread wider and wider in Doegan, among Mar and Ffolk alike? It was, he reflected wryly, the supreme irony of the Utter East: as the populace grew weaker, the rulers relied more heavily on the bloodforges to keep the armies of the fiends at bay. But every use of the bloodforge weakened the population still more, continuing the vicious cycle.
    No point in worrying about it for now. He led the men over the drawbridge and into the palace, drawing up plans with every step.

Chapter Four
No Rest for the Wary
    Lord Garkim and his five charges were greeted at the palace entrance by a delegation of curious fellow councilors, all of whom had been present at the meeting two hours earlier when Garkim was summoned by the emperor. The councilors welcomed the overheated visitors and introduced themselves. The weariness of the visitors and their filthy, sweat-drenched condition were duly noted. Chambermaids were dispatched to fix up a large guest room for the warriors, and a midafter-noon luncheon was promised. The visitors seemed rather distant but appropriately pleased at such treatment.
    The warm, stuffy room to which the five men were taken was an octagonal chamber about forty feet across. A broad crystal dome replaced the ceiling, revealed a bright blue sky above; brilliant flowers and long green vines hung from brass pots suspended from the ceiling by thin chains. The furniture in the room was made from a rich, dark wood, the thatched seats and backs of rough fibers dyed in colorful striped patterns. Long silk tapestries hung from the rough stone walls. The floor was covered by a thick carpet whose colorful pattern had faded from exposure to sunlight from above as well as the scuffing of shoes.
    The five men looked about the room cautiously as they entered, but saw nothing amiss. As the maids left, a well-dressed Mar servant pointed out the side bedrooms that led off from six of the room’s eight walls. The entry door and a bookcase with assorted knickknacks and small volumes took up the last two walls.
    Miltiades nodded his thanks to the servant, who closed the door behind him as he left. The old warrior silently eyed the other members of his group. Rivers of sweat ran down his face.
    Noph tried the handle to one of the doors, then pushed the door open and peered inside. “Huh,” he said. “Nice place. Maybe there’s a fan here somewhere.”
    Miltiades carefully removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He tried the door to the left of the entrance to the room and looked inside. He sniffed after giving it a quick examination. “It is fine, as bedrooms go,” he said, turning about. “I suggest we make ourselves presentable while we discuss our plans. Whatever our mission, we are always representatives of Tyr. Let us never forget that.” He entered his chosen room and peered into a mirror on the wall.
    “What he means,” said Jacob mischievously, “is that it will never do to face death and not look your best.”
    Kern chuckled as he looked himself over. “So true,” he said. “I suppose I could use a bath, and the armor a little polish. But business first.” He reached up and tugged at