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were always underground. It was a show of respect for the dead who were buried. The Stone Temple was currently empty, and it took him a couple of minutes to get a few torches lit, but when he did the room was a beauty to behold. The furniture, the wall hangings, the decorations were all decorated in the colors of the Autumn Prince and the Scarlet Army.
    Beraht was still muttering to himself in Salharan. It was the first time since Dieter had captured him that Beraht had bothered to speak his native tongue.
    They were a hundred and fifteen miles north of the Regenbogen, making this the last temple before reaching what Kria considered battleground. He grabbed Beraht and all but threw him deeper into the temple, swinging shut the wooden door that sealed off the stairs. "Make yourself at home," he said.
    He left Beraht standing where he was. It was a medium-sized room, one corner given over to bedding and another to a low table for eating and relaxing. Off to the right side was a room for conducting business. It had a high table with maps and other tools for strategizing. To the left side was a bathing room, though Dieter regretted it did not have a proper bath. That would come soon enough, however; if he continued to push, home was a little less than two weeks away, instead of the three or more it would have taken with his men.
    He focused on the anger that rose up as he thought again of the reason he was not with his men, blocking out all else as he headed alone toward the bathing chamber to clean up. After he determined what was going on they would all pay. It frustrated him that, near as he could tell, Beraht seemed genuinely confused as to why the Illussor had wanted him. There would be no help from that quarter.
    Dieter scrubbed angrily until he was red and raw from cleaning. From cedar chests in the corner he drew out clothes that he had left the last time he'd passed through. When he returned to the main chamber, he was not surprised to see that Beraht was fast asleep amongst the heap of bedding in the far back corner. He stalked across the room and hauled him to his feet, shaking him awake. "Now, now, little prisoner. I don't want you infesting this place with more vermin than absolutely necessary."
    "What? Even your vile little brothers can't stand your company?" Beraht's yellow eyes flashed with anger. Strange that they were still so bright when Dieter could tell from the way Beraht had been holding his head that he was suffering severely from withdrawal.
    He half shoved, half threw him in the direction of the bathing room. "Get clean. Then maybe I'll let you sleep."
    The words hurled at him were uttered in Salharan. Dieter laughed, settling himself amongst the bedding and tossing aside extraneous pillows. He drew his sword and stared at it in silence. Through his head ran the names of his third-in-command, his assistants and strategists, and so many others who would not make it home. All because of a Salharan and the damned Illussor.
    He should have been aware of the Illussor trick. But his punishment would come soon enough, of that he had no doubt. Dieter allowed his mind to wander, though one ear was ever attentive to the sounds made by Beraht in the other room.
    His sword glinted in the light, and for a moment it seemed as though colors shimmered deep within. It was a long sword, old but much cared for. Made with skill. The hilt and pommel were black, and the base of the pommel was set with a large, round, blood-red stone. Even in his youth, it had been decided he would someday lead the Scarlet. Dieter sheathed his sword and drew the keys from his cloak before setting both sword and keys aside. He locked the door and returned to his bed. A few minutes later, Beraht emerged.
    Clean and shaven, he looked almost completely different—softer, younger. Perhaps thirty, but Dieter thought he might be a few years younger than that. His hair was not as dark a blond as Dieter had thought; it was actually quite pale. His