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lieutenants.
    â€œTorn to pieces by the mob,” said the soldier. “General Murdock answered by hanging the first hundred lowborn men who crossed his path, selling their widows into servitude and transporting their children to the Mines of Torodania.”
    Mordecai nodded, well pleased. In spite of his best efforts to educate them otherwise, some Erok lowborns continued to believe that they had some right to the air they breathed and the land upon which their families had squatted for centuries. Likewise, some surviving membersof the conquered tribes continued to resist Erok rule in spite of having seen their way of life destroyed and their populations decimated through massacre, marginalization and enslavement.
    Luckily, General Murdock—that shining example of all that a New Man should be—had always proven himself singularly adept at handling the problems caused by such troublemakers.
    Of course, Mordecai saw no need to share his satisfaction with the able-bodied wretch who yet knelt before him, so he merely muttered, “I’d have hanged a thousand,” and asked when he could expect to receive the valuable prisoner whose delivery had been delayed by the need to put down the revolt.
    â€œOh, uh, well, I’m not exactly sure, Your Grace,” said the soldier uncomfortably. “See, um, the night after the hangings someone set fire to the General’s tent. Normally, o’course, an intruder wouldn’t have been able to get within a cat’s throw of the General’s tent without losing some vital piece of his filthy, good-for-nothing person. But … but on this particular night … well, uh, for s-some reason the sentries … they, uh—”
    â€œStop this foolish babbling or I will have you beheaded!” bellowed Mordecai. “Tell me what happened to the sentries!”
    â€œThey fell asleep!” blurted the soldier with a spasm of fear. “All of them, all at once! And what a strange sleep it was—after failing to detect liquor on their breath, the duty sergeant kicked my younger brother nearly to death trying to revive him, to no avail. He and his fellow sentries were as dead to this world as … well, as the dead! Andwhen they awoke the next day they were sick enough to wish they were dead. And that is all I know!”
    By the flickering glow of the fire’s light, Mordecai stared at the soldier in silence for so long that the blood drained from the man’s face and the chill of the room penetrated his core.
    â€œI see,” said Mordecai at length. “So am I to understand that you and the other men will be delayed in delivering my prisoner to me due to the need to bury the charred remains of your general?”
    â€œN-no,” stammered the soldier. “General Murdock escaped the fire unharmed.”
    â€œAh,” crooned Mordecai. “Then you will be delayed owing to the need to soothe and care for your dear, sick brother and the other negligent sentries?”
    Mutely, the soldier shook his head.
    Mordecai gripped the arms of his throne-like chair and leaned forward as far as his twisted back would allow. “Then tell me,” he said in a dangerously soft voice. “What … is the cause … of the delay ?”
    â€œSabotage!” cried the soldier, who was, by this point, visibly quaking. “While we were busy trying to rescue the General and douse the first fire, the scoundrels who’d set it stole through the camp setting other fires. By the time we realized what was happening, half the camp was ablaze! Such was the chaos that the filthy ne’er-do-wells were able to lurk undetected for some time afterward, slicing our tacking to ribbons, stealing weapons, destroying food stores and somehow ensuring that every last one of our supply wagons was fed to theinferno. And—forgive me, Your Grace, for this is the very worst of it—by the time anyone thought to check on the prisoner,