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Ghosts’ last mission?”
    Rhonaag sat back in his chair, fingers steepled before his nose. “Submit the report at your leisure, or not at all. It matters little.”
    “Commander?”
    “With King Tazzim’s death, black change has come swiftly upon Cerrikoth,” Rhonaag said. “Mark me, his fall will bring the end of Cerrikoth as we know it.” He eyed Rathe as if he had some part in the dire changes of which he spoke.
    “I cannot see how that—”
    “Can be so?” Rhonaag interrupted. “Prince Nabar has taken the throne. He is a fop and coward. I can only wish Prince Sanouk had been allowed to stand in Nabar’s place.”
    “Sanouk tried to murder his brother,” Rathe reminded his former commander.
    Rhonaag made a shooing motion with his hand. “An unproven allegation. Trust me, if ever a mistake was made by our mighty king, it was exiling his better son to the godsforsaken fortress at Hilan.”
    Rathe’s assessment was not so harsh. “Nabar is inexperienced, as are all princes when first they sit a throne. His father’s council will guide him until he learns to make his own decisions.”
    “You forget Nabar has always fancied Princess Mirith of Qairennor, the witch-queen’s youngest daughter. Doubtless, Mirith is also a witch. Inside of a year, Nabar will have her as his wife, and Onareth will become a den rife with necromancers and mystics. Gods help us.”
    “As were King Tazzim’s fears, I believe yours are exaggerated,” Rathe said. “In the last year, the Ghosts found not one indication of Queen Shukura’s plans to invade Cerrikoth, nor any sign that she is a witch.” That was as close as he intended to come to accusing Tazzim of starting a war based on false conclusions, but he had long suspected as much. “A union between Nabar and Mirith will bring Cerrikoth and Qairennor together again, as in the days of old. I cannot imagine how that would be an evil thing.”
    Rhonaag glowered as if Rathe had lost his mind. “On the morrow, you will be my superior,” he snarled, “but today you still follow my orders.” Rathe conceded that with a nod. “ Get out of my sight! ” Rhonaag spat.
    Rathe was pulling the door open when Rhonaag spoke again, his voice low, strangely eager. “Your promotion is based not on merit, but pity for a once great soldier who is now broken.”
    “I am at a loss,” Rathe said, though he thought he knew what Rhonaag was coming to.
    “You killed one of your own men for following a command issued by King Tazzim’s own tongue,” Rhonaag declared, proving Rathe’s suspicion.
    “And the reason I punished Noor is in my report,” Rathe said, anger rising. “For your benefit, I tell you the man assaulted a superior—me, as it happens—and he paid the price for that blunder.”
    “Truly?” Rhonaag snorted. “It had nothing to do with the girl Noor intended to despoil?” Rathe’s silence confirmed Rhonaag’s question. “Rest assured that no one will mention what you did, but your peers, the king’s council, King Nabar himself, all know exactly what happened with Legionnaire Noor. Had he been Cerrikothian instead of a Prythian brute, you would soon join him in the afterlife.”
    Rathe stood stock-still. Only one man could have ensured the king’s council learned the details at that last village so soon, the man set to replace him, the man he had underestimated: Girod. Of course, word would have spread whether or not Girod had kept quiet.
    “Your actions sicken me as much as your promotion,” Rhonaag was saying. “I have seen men like you rise, but ever they fall because of weak characters. You are no different. Mark me, Scorpion , you will fall lower than the trampled shite of swine. Now, before I do something we will both regret, take yourself from my sight!”

Chapter 5
    “L egion commander of the king’s guard,” Thushar laughed. “At this rate, you will be captain-general by this time next year!”
    “Men of our birth do not rise to such heights,”