Word of the Morit invasion, which permeated every village in the south, had not spread to the north.  Separated by Darkness and a winter more complete than any that could be recalled, the Castans heading south braving the cold and malaise knew nothing of any Morit attack.  They were fixed on the fine drink and whores at the Inn of the Bleeding Sore and of the wonders of the Grand Festival.  But mostly, they dreamed of the glory of the fierce game of Icekregg that they would play to conquer the Blaads once again.  Had they been informed, they would have sent every man, woman and child - for every Castan family was weaned on tales of the Morit persecution of their forbears.  And so it was Zef Zavras who first told them the news of the occupation, and of the defiance planned during the Festival of Lights.  He had done the same to the Blaad revelers that passed him by two days earlier.. They had first heard of the Morit attack as an unsubstantiated rumor told them by a Corfuni merchant ship captain, who they were just as likely to believe was on the run from the crown for illegal trading.  The strength of the winter had simply shut down news gathering thereafter.  The revelers heard the tale in more detail while on the march when a traveling tinker described what had happened.  He also told them that "Ravenhurst's army" had revelers waiting until Kelrun's Hill day to enter the city.  Both Castan and Blaad sent a few unfortunates back to tell their Dukes of the verified news.  "Unfortunate" only in that they themselves would not reach DOM in time to register for Icekregg.  And it was very doubtful that the Castan army would reach DOM before the planned defiance was executed, even if the weather allowed them free passage.

The Blaad entourage arrived at Norgate Bar two days before Keldrun's Hill Day.  The Morits, barred the gate to them until Keldrun's Hill Day.  The prospect of spending two nights outside the city walls within reach of drink and whorehouses did not wear well.  But Zavras had asked them to comply with Morit regulations up until the Lights were lit.  It would not do to have fighters decimated before the plan was executed.  With the exception of the Icekregg team, these revelers were not particularly armored for war.  The huge Blaadi Icekregg captain, Borton Kholna acted as the groups leader and helped to arrange their bivouac.  His great desire to trounce his Blaadi Icekregg rival, Captain Grata Halvos was now replaced with hatred for the Morits.  (Or at least partially replaced).
***
"Major Adalgar" said General Gunter Neimann returning a salute and greeting the inferior officer as he entered the solar.  "How is it working out?"  In this case "it" was the plan hatched by Adalgar and reluctantly agreed to by the General, to have the Black Font patrol the underground.  The Font was the less than savory strongarm of the DOM Guilds.  The Morits had taken Seth and his cousin Tamrick Fortan, the Guildmaster and head of the Font respectively and wined and dined them under luxurious house arrest in Keldrun Castle, promising them Lordships among other things.  It should be mentioned at this point that the surname of Fortan (as with other provincial family names) were liberally used in the Kingdom, but did not necessarily mean that there was royal blood involved.  "Tamrick of Fortan" meant only that his ancestors came from that province (or not).  And the Fortan Guilds and the Black Font had very little actual connection with the actual province of Fortan other than having migrated to the city centuries ago from that province, and retaining some pride of association in that heritage.  "How is it working out sir?" said, Adalgar repeating the General's question.  A drop of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Next: Walthari prepares the faithful

Prince Karsh Petros began to feel his exhaustion.  Perhaps it was that he was now finally sitting in a chair instead of urging his mount across the snow covered terrain that had resisted his progress for four days.  The winter respite had taken a brief hiatus on the final day and he and his small entourage of four men and horses had arrived cold and decked in white.  But his vast yawn was more likely inspired by the litany of concerns voiced by Duke Liam Fortan concerning the realm, Fortan's future, heath problems and the lamentable state of his army.  "Am I boring you, my prince?"  "Not at all" said Karsh shaking himself out of his lethargy.  "I understand clearly that you feel that your family is not adequately represented at Castle Keldrun."  "Sire," the Duke continued, "your family has ruled for a generation.  Not undeservedly, but we believe that greater unity could be achieved by leveling the vote on the grand council away from heredity."  "The crown is not hereditary" retorted Karsh, who was now quite awake.  Apparently the Duke's extended diatribe actually and finally had a point, if an untimely one.  "The crown is voted on by the Grand Council as you know.  It has not been hereditary since King Orsan."  "Technically true" continued the Duke "but in fact, King Lythe used his influence over the Guilds and the Dorcers to usher in his son King Julius, who did the same with your father and your father is doing the same for you.  It is not a level pitch for all who fought the Fanes alongside King Lythe.  I have a hard time convincing my dukedom that the kingdom acts selflessly."  Karsh blinked and was temporarily speechless.  This Duke might actually hold back his forces if his answer was not favorable.  He might not directly say that perhaps, but any urgency would be lacking.  "Lord Duke" said Karsh, measuring his words "I am not the King.  Were I King, I would hope that I would consider well the advice of my counsel.  I can offer no more than that." His voice rising now despite his best attempt to reign it in.  "But Lord Duke, we are at war with what must be regarded as a mutual enemy.  While we sit here and speak, citizens of the enitire Dominion, incuding Fortan are under attack in the greatest city of our Dominion.  Portha has stolen away our fleet and has declared their independence.  I think that now is perhaps not the time to quarrel over line of succession - if we do not act there will only be a Moritanian line of succession.  If you are not in with us, then please say so now because we only have a small window open.  Are you in or are you out?"  Karsh was standing at this point, his earnest appeal propelling him out of his seat.  It was impossible for any of the five advisors in the room to discount the earnest courage and patriotism that the young prince exhibited.  The Duke felt it too.  He looked around the room and then said, as if he had never considered otherwise, "we are in."

****

Zef Zavras was traveling north.  Both Castan and Blaad revelers planning to attend the festival would be traveling south through Stammery.  The Castans could have made shorter work of their journey by traveling to Giorda then taking ships to DOM.  The reason they did not had nothing to do with the Morits (for ships full of Castans would have met with opposition).  They always went by land to harass the Blaads as they passed through the lands of their traditional competitor.  The other, undeclared reason was their secret (and unfounded) fear of having their minds melted together by the Raylans as they stomped through the sacred groves.  And so, Zavras expected and hoped to catch at  the neck of Stammery, a flood of both Blaad and Castan on their way to the festival.

Next: The Uninformed Informed

Like an avenging angel the Farer Walthari of Matmus-Necmus had strode into the Solar of Castle Keldrun.  "Nine of our brave soldiers of Matmus dead at the hands of the elemental dogs of this Dominion" he intoned, his volume increasing with every word.  "And a trail of blood leading to the bastion of their false gods."  Raising his arms now he was reaching a crescendo "it is time that the evil elemental faith was brought down!  Every day that we allow their celebrants to speak their black rituals we succumb to the Necmus in ourselves and in turn we shall be swallowed by his darkness!  Let us close their church and outlaw this faith!"  "We shall do nothing of the kind Farer" answered General Neimann.  "Nor shall you continue to rail against them in public.  You forget that we are grossly outnumbered here."  Walthari looked at Neimann as if he were a disease, narrowing his eyes to slits "my charge here General, is to pave the way for conversion.  If you think that we can stay the darkness by allowing Necmus free reign with the people of this country…"  General Neimann stood at this point, his patience at an end.  "I do not care what your charge is.  My charge is to hold this city until the spring, and if I have to do it by placing you in a brig aboard the Erobern until spring, then I will.  You are under the impression that we are here on a holy war of some kind.  Let me set you straight.  We are here to conquer this last.  To take it, and rape it if need be.  We are not here to hold their hands and walk them into the light.  If you are not helping us in this quest, then you are hurting us.  You cannot convert anyone if they cut you down first for insulting their gods.  Are you aware that many of them now believe that the darkness was eradicated by an avenging Domish paladin named Forcellus Blaad wielding some weapon of the Fire elemental?  This man is somewhere in this city even now, spreading these tales.  Do you think that they would prefer to believe that some angry Morit Farer did this deed by shouting down the darkness?"  Walthari fell silent, but looked fit to burst.  By the time he worked up a counter point, Neimann preempted him by continuing deliberately, his voice dripping with threat.  "Master Walthari.  This is what you will do.  You will ask any of your newly faithful, assuming that you have gathered any, for any news of Forcellus Blaad or of this fire weapon.  Tell them quietly that the weapon and it's wielder are the work of Necmus and undoubtedly helped to cause the darkness.  Tell them that we will reward any news handsomely.  Do you have that?"  Master Walthari's face became a thin veneer of quiescence trapping a boiling rage.  "There is no talking to this Necmun," thought the Farer.  "He is merely a vessel.  He carries the book, but has no idea what it says.  He thinks to win this realm with soldiers and swords.  He knows less than nothing."  The two men stared at each other in a moment of hostile silence.  Then the Farer stood, turned and walked out of the chamber.

***

Lord Tirian cradled young  Baines Cockrel's head in his hands.  He could still empathically feel the boy's fear, slowly ebbing now in death.  What a sad loss, he thought.  Who would mourn him?  He had no living parents.  No one to weep over him.  "In life, this boy was little and less" he said aloud to the brothers gathered around him in the wine cellar of the Church of Elemental Unity that served as the boy's final sanctuary and refuge.  "His life was a tiny candle that gave off little light.  But soon, very soon, we shall kindle it into a bonfire."

Next:  The Matter of Independence

I backed up to dodge the mighty swing aimed at me - only to trip against a table.  Suddenly I was looking at the ceiling.  I could hear the clash of steel against steel (and steel against stone) all around me, grunts an shuffling feet.  I could also hear the shouts of more Morits approaching in the distance from the south.  I rolled left just in time to avoid a cracking blow which sent massive splinters flying from the table, one of which flew into my right eye.  Damn it!  Damn it!  I rolled off the table and scurried under it trying to blink the shard free before the Morit's blade would be jab at me in my refuge.  A massive clump on the table startled the heck out of me.  I thought the Crazed Morit had cleft the table in two until I heard his sword clatter.  The boy had beaned him one and knocked him senseless!  This kid gets a massive tip next time.  I crawled out from under the table and was nearly stepped on by the Morit on Japes.  He was too busy to notice me or my blade as I jammed the point into the side of his boot.  He screamed and Japes cut it short with a vicious swipe to his neck.  Blood covered the both of us.  We would not be escaping here without notice.  It was then that my head cleared enough to notice that Guwek was still trading blows with the last Morit standing.  "Drop it or you're a dead man" I shouted as both Japes and I closed in.  We both knew it was an empty threat as we could hear the approaching Morits.  We could see that the bastard knew it too and had probably decided to cooperate for a short breather, pretending to contemplate dropping his sword.  Guwek took advantage of that moment and stabbed him in the stomach with impressive speed.  "Kill the others and grab the boy" he shouted.  I went quickly to the bastard who had called me out.  A shaft of lantern light illuminated his face between the tables, he was coming around and stared at me with black eyes full of fear.  I used the light to locate his neck, "for Heston Coros" I said and made a quick bloody mess of his demise.  Japes polished off the other unconscious Morit at the foot of Baines.  Guwek lifted the boy who now lay on the table in exhaustion.

Our exit was arduous.  We headed north into lower University Street, then headed east to hopefully lose our bloody track in the Market Square under the maze of buttresses.  We were all bleeding like stuck pigs.  With the Morits already up from the south, we went that way now and got to the lower entrance to old Dorcer castle.  It was perhaps our only exit from here that did not involve us pretending to be nonchalant bloody shoppers.  This exit was a last resort, as the Church was pretty much off limits.  No one wanted Morits stationed in the Church of Elemental Unity.  Now they would find this carefully hidden exit by the trail of blood we left.  Could not be helped.  It was an agonizing wait before the brothers heard our rapping and let us in, and by then little Baines, sadly, was dead.

We recuperated in the bowels of the Church.  I found out later that the Morits had scoured the underground but found no more rats.  We had killed seven Morits.  Zef Brewer and Ben the Bowyer had killed two more from their station west of the Nightshade.  They had escaped by climbing up the hidden shaft into Zane Hezler's herbalist shop and from there climbed up onto the ice canopy.  They crossed the treacherous ice in the evening twilight, dropping down into Brendan Baird's Armory, where they changed clothes and became just a couple more shoppers.

Of the twenty Morits that entered the underground, only eleven exited.  No Domish were taken alive or dead, and none did die, except for one very brave young man.

Next: A Question of Faith

Guwek Tyno, Zef Brewer, Dontley the Dirk, my buddy Japes, Ben the Bowyer and I were the ones hanging behind to harry the Morits.

Guwek and I commanded a hidden side passage near the entrance to the Shade on lower Tailor Street.  There were many support buttresses here propping up the buildings at Market Place Square.  Easy to hide behind them, then sink back into the many crawl spaces that could bring you back around to Center Street.

In position with the loaded crossbows we had hidden there and with our daggers in our teeth we could hear shouts in Moritanian echoing throughout the dark maze of the underground.  Clearly the Morits did not think that we would be surprised at their arrival, they were opting to flush us out as the vermin they thought we were.  We could hear maybe two of them walking down lower Market Street and entering the Nightshade at about the same time we heard two of them starting down Tailor st.  These last two would be passing us at any moment.  We readied ourselves.  Their voices and lantern light preceded them.  As soon as I saw one of them appear, I tagged him with a whisper to Guwek and loosed the bolt.  It entered the Morit in his ear and he dropped along with the lantern.  Guweks bolt caught the other in the shoulder.  The Morit wheeled around and screamed out our presence.  Dropping our crossbows we swung out from opposite ends of our protective beam with our knives in hand.  We caught the Morit from opposite sides skewering him from front and back.  He fell with a gurgle.  Just then we heard a high pitched scream.  We both instantly knew what it was.  It was little Baines Cockrel, the bar boy.  Damn!  Why had he not run with the others!  We immediately knew that we had to invade the Nightshade no matter what.  That boy had probably stayed to defend the only home he knew - we could not leave him to his fate.

If there was a main entrance to the Shade, it would have been the one we now ran to from under the Market Square.  You make the most noticeable entrance from here, that why no one uses it - but we didn't care.  We dashed into the main tavern hall to see three Morits battling it out with Japes and Dontley.  Poor little Baines had a nasty gash on his head and was oozing blood.  The boy was holding an Icekregg Thwack-waddy and was occasioally pelting the back of one Morit or the other from atop a table, when they were distracted distracted by knife jabs from Japes and Dontley.  The idiot Morits were swinging great swords and occasionally banging the stone buttresses and sending out sparks.

Two of the Morits had Dontley backed into a corner, one of them readying a stabbing finish.  I sent my dagger flying and would have done Jape's proud - it caught the bastard in the neck sinking him to his knees.  The other Morit came flying at me but was intercepted by Guwek who now has his short sword out.  I pulled my sword in turn and turned to Japes' foe calling out "Baines, run away" as I closed the distance, walking over a Morit body that was lying on the floor at the foot of the table Baines was standing on.  Even in that split second I saw that he had a waddy mark on his head.  "Damn!  Good hit boy!"  It was two-on-one only for a second then, as another Morit reentered the main tavern from the back room.  He shouted something in Morit that I swore was "it's you!"  It was at that moment that I recognized him from a month ago, when Japes had flung a dagger in his buddy's back.  The drunken Morits!  The look in this guys eyes would've melted steel - I resisted the temptation to yell "Japes killed your buddy - I didn't!"  No time anyway, as his giant sword swiped at me with more speed than I thought possible.

Next: A Violent Roundel (part 2)

"Of course it was an underground attack.  Forgive me sir, but as you know I have been down there.  I regret that act.  But I know they plot against us sir.  I believe they took the opportunity, sir.  Unless one can believe that seaman Naill Gotts went into the Black Horde lower tavern last night and fought it out with a tailor and a bar maid - managing to kill them both but suffer a fatal sword wound (and a nasty crack to the head) by one of those less than imposing foes, sir."  "Very well" said General Gunter Neimann wearily.  "You share a room at the Inn with seaman Gotts do you not?"  "Yes sir.  We parted company when he went to the head sir.  He never came back to the room that I know of, I feel asleep fast, sir."  "Thank you Seaman Zaker.  That is all."

After he left, the General called in the Major.  Major Adalgar gave a crisp salute, and tried to look calm.  He knew that he was in for it this time.  Another dead Morit.  General sat quietly and stared at the Major for awhile.  Finally he spoke.  "Major, we are going on a rat hunt."  "Sir?"  "Just listen Major, don't speak." "Yes…" he started, then swallowed the "sir."  "I want you to pick twenty men from the Erobern that are not afraid of the dark.  Use this Zaker too, he knows the place.  I will speak to General Ekhard.  Their orders are to contain the underground rats and attempt to exterminate them before this "Keldrun's Hill day" is upon us.  I do not want rats in the cellar when we have guests.  Do you understand?"  The Major looked reluctant to speak, but the General's pointed look urged him on.  "Yes… sir.  I understand.  Are they to be stationed there afterward?"  "No" said the General.  "Hopefully there will be no more rats to trap after that.  Isn't there some way to flood that damn hole before the spring?" he said thinking aloud.  "I don't think so sir, I…"  "I know there isn't you idiot" the General snapped.  "Just get me those men.  Dismissed.  Get out of my sight!"  The Major quickly saluted, turned and exited the room in a flash.

*****

I knew something was up.  A few too many Morit soldiers hanging around the Armory Bridge that afternoon.  We expected it at some point after the incident with the lantern.  I didn't really know Nick very well, whose burnt body was discovered alongside the broken lantern that wasn't his.  He had been stabbed with a longsword.  Morit work I was sure.  Then we heard about Tuila and old Ben.  There seemed to be a raft of city murders lately with those two found frozen near the north docks.  So we were on heavier watch.

The rest were in the Shade. Prince Karsh and Zef had gone, slipping out of the city circling the frozen edge of Lake Efrem.  Forcellus was talking about the castle passage revealed by Jed Brewer, and how it led to the guard tower.  We'd have to make it past a Morit garrison, entering single file into a room where many could pick us off one at a time.  There was another underground Castle Keldrun entrance, but it had been sealed off during King Orsan's reign and would require massive excavation in frozen ground to reopen. "Both will require more thought" said Forcellus as Ben the Bowyer burst into the room.  "They're coming!" he shouted.  "From the north and the south."   Ten Morit soldiers were entering from bridge entrances in both directions, and more were stationed above ground in the central city to catch those fleeing.  Our practiced plan was that many of us would escape to the surface using the hidden exits such as the one into the lockshop.  Some of us would hide below and make sure that we took a few Morits out before we too escaped.

Next: A Violent Roundel

"It would be a direct violation of orders" thought Naill Gotts as he drained the last of his ale.  "We shouldn't even be here, much less out there."  But he slammed the heavy glass aggressively down onto the table and shouted, "another!" in accented Domish.  He and his new friend Seaman Hans Zaker were sitting in the lower tavern of the Black Horde Inn.  It was around midnight and in the small bar there remained only drunk Ben the tailor avoiding the cold trip to the outer city, and Tuila the bar maid who was alone at that hour pulling and serving ale to the last hangers on.  Upstairs in the main tavern, the party was still hopping, though on it's last leg. The man sitting opposite Naill at the table stared at him and repeated his plea "Naill, my friend, I owe it to you to show you the real life in this shit town."  Seaman Hans Zaker leaned in an inch from Naill's nose.  "There is gold and women to be had from cowards that cannot complain because they are thieves and murderers themselves" he hissed.  Naill was the larger of the two men, yet it was Zaker who held sway between them.  Naill desperately wanted to be perceived as being as tough as his exterior proclaimed, but he was worn down by so much hate directed at him by so many Domish.  He wanted to be home.  Even many of the other Morits disliked him for his size, his red mane of hair and his northern Castig accent.  Zaker seemed to be his only friend.  And so he drank the courage to match his friend's expectations.  His head swimming he finally looked up and said,"Let's go rip some Domish".

Zaker immediately stood and took Niall's ale just brought by the wench.  He downed half of it, and jabbed it at Naill.  Then he turned and grabbed the wench by the hair head and licked her face.  She recoiled and he pushed her down onto the floor.  He promptly turned and stalked toward the door leading out to the underground, Naill in tow.

"Follow me" Zaker whispered as they entered the darkness, carefully sealing the door behind them.  "Pull your sword and get ready to stick anything that moves".  Zaker then set down his sword and started fiddling with a lantern.  Nail stood by, sword in hand.  Zaler barely got the lantern lit when suddenly there was a noise.  In his surprise, Zaker threw the lantern and managed to squarely hit a retreating figure.  Burning oil sizzled hair and the figure began to flail it's arms and curse.   Zaker grabbed Naill's sword out of his hand and closed the distance like a shot jamming the blade cleanly in and out of the man's back and leather jerkin.  The man fell forward.  "No" said Naill.  "We should not have done this."  Zaker turned "No, you are right, we shouldn't.  Let's go back.  Grab my sword."  Zaker then moved back to the Inn.  He wrenched open the door. The bar maid stared at him, her face wide with fear.  Old Ben Tailor hadn't even moved, he had fallen asleep.  Turning, the bar maid was heading for the stairs to the main tavern, when Zaker flung Naill's sword at her catching her in the shoulder.  She swooned and hit the floor with a crash taking a chair with her.  Naill stood in shock as Zaker crossed the room and finished her with the sword.  "Don't worry, Naill, no one heard anything" he said to the look of panic on Naill's face.  They could both hear the main tavern above them, just up the stairs.  Even at this hour there was a few "Festival Moon" revelers still making merry.  "And he's still asleep" he said motioning toward Ben.  As Naill turned to look at the old tailor, Zaker picked up a bar glass.  "We should not have done this" said Naill turning to Zaker.  "We didn't" he said as he brought the glass crashing down on Naill's head.  "You did".

Next: The Cleanup

We met nightly in the Shade.  That night's big topic was the moon.  We could finally see it again.  The glorious but brief clearing of a month ago had lasted only one day.  But now we all knew that the "midwinter moon" clearing would commence.  It was the same every year, for a month at midwinter it was as if the elements all acted in the interest of the Festival.  It was immediately decided that we would attempt to meet up en route with the provincial retinues that might be descending upon the city any day now and hopefully gird them for more than just games and fun.  We were planning a very special Festival of Lights this year.

"I will leave the city and journey to Fortan" said Karsh to looks of concern.  "I have just enough time to urge them to gather more than revelers if I act fast.  I intend to bring back the Fortan Army.  I know that they will not succeed alone, so we must gather our resources to insure a victory.  There are only two laws that prevent the Fortan army from entering the city during the festival, the old Dom Triplo law forbidding it - which, as acting sovereign I hereby abolish, and the current Morit proclamation, which we do not recognize.  I feel that the only way to insure that the Fortans will march is if I myself go and order them to do it."  There was uneasy agreement.  He went on, "let us all realize that the attendance at this festival may be light.  It may be non-existent.  Festival-goers are looking for a glorious time, sport and amusement.  They are not looking for their heads to be mounted onto spikes.  They may just plan on coming next year instead, if there is a next year.  So we must do everything that we can to get people here in droves.  The Morits cannot be everywhere at once, and crowds will make them nervous."  "A recipe for bloodshed and chaos" muttered Efrem Dorcer of the Bailey.  "True" answered Prince Karsh.  "But this is our greatest opportunity until next spring, when the Morits will undoubtedly reinforce, and there will be even more bloodshed and chaos."  Old Dorcer decided to play a contrary role then, and smirked "do you expect festival goers to take up arms?"  Karsh turned to him.  He knew old Efrem Dorcer, and knew that few were more patriotic than he.  He was asking the questions that the others dare not.  "Master Dorcer, did you happen to catch the Castan-Blaad Icekregg battle last year?  Would you want to face down captain Grata Halvos holding a thwack-waddy?"  The room laughed at the image.  But they all reserved the doubt; "what if the Castans take a break this year?"

By the time the meeting broke up that evening, it was decided that Prince Karsh would go to Fortan to court troops, and Zef Zavras would try to intercept the Blaad and/or Castan revelers on their way, or at least find out IF they were on their way.  Commander Forcellus would direct the DOM forces, such as they were, and try to recruit more as quietly as possible. 

The underground became our staging area.  Forcellus had us conduct drills to evacuate as quickly as possible.  We set up guards and relays, secret murder holes and crude killing chambers just in case the Morits decided to stage an invasion of our rat-infested turf before we could flee.  One of our newer recruits, Zeph Brewer (who is the son of proprietor Hezbus Brewer of the Inn of the Bleeding Sore) had been a Castle Guard at one time (before his elder brother died in a beer barrel accident causing Zeph to leave the Guard to learn his father's trade).  Zeph described to us a secret tunnel that led from the old Castle Dorcer (now the church) to an old underground passage in Castle Keldrun.  This would have to be fully explored at some point soon.

Next: A Malicious Attack

Funny things happen to men confined below decks on an icy ship for months.  The sailors only came on deck to remove the snow that regularly piled up and to knock ice from the shrouds.  The Commodore, General Ekhard, was rarely aboard ship, and this became a great subject of contention.  It didn't help that the soldier-sailors crammed into the cramped quarters of the ship were singled out as possible trouble-makers.  It wasn't that they wouldn't obey orders, of course.  If that were the case, they would simply be hung.  It was that they proved too quick to anger and lacked any compassion for the citizenry.  As the Domish midwinter Festival approached, many of these men would have to be brought in to provide additional security, despite their dispositions.

Hans Zaker was angry.  Very angry.  His pride was all-important to him, and his pride had seriously been damaged during a certain drunken ruckus in an underground tavern.  He had been relieved from guard duty in Dorgat and sent to the ship.  It had been a sweet post watching the Black Horde Inn and the streets surrounding it.  He had not specifically been warned to keep away from Underground taverns, and Major Adalgar, the officer in charge, actually lied and said that he had been warned.  Calling the Major a liar would have cost him more than just a few lashes and a trip back to the ship, and so he said nothing.  He was angry at the Major, but he was even angrier that he had been made a fool by a cocksure Domish sneak thief.  And he was filled with absolute rage that Kulm, his big friend and one of his Morit brothers-in-arms finally died from the Domish dagger that had been flung into his back by a Domish coward hiding in the darkness of the Nightshade tavern.  So when Hans Zaker was added to the active list of the Festival Guard and transferred to the city in advance, he played the part of the repentant soldier and began to plot his revenge.

Seaman Zaker was a dark-haired Southern Morit.  He was not large, but he made up for it in steel-eyed coldness.  He could hide his emotions well, and had - convincing the Morit Navy that he was not the reckless killer that he had been in the Morit capitol.  He hated the northern "Ginger Morits" and clearly recognized in the Castans that DOM had a large degree of Ginger blood mixed in.  Still, he was quick to make friends when it suited him.  He could be charming when he chose to be.  He killed the father he resented with every smile or every stab, it did not matter which.

His first victims had been taken while he was on a watch a week before his ship confinement.  He had walked past the University and out of the Orsan Bar Gate leading him to the Orsan Dock just before dawn.  He could see the lanterns of Norgat across the Dorcer River and had a view of the bridge to the west leading out of the city.  While there, he heard the sound of voices.  He saw two figures huddled together in a corner of the castle wall, sheltered by a nich in the stonework.  They were bundled against the cold.  He quietly pulled his sword.  He walked slowly over to them.  He was going to frighten them into the river if he could.  No one would hear them yelling from here.  If they ran back into the city and screamed, who would care?  He'd say they had no business there - which they didn't.  As he got close, they both looked up.  Have a copper, brother?  One of them said.   "A gazette?"  The lantern light from the bridge lit them just enough for him to see their faces.  The light also formed a perfect line across their craning necks.  He simply could not stop himself from attempting to strike at both of those necks simletaneously with one swift, violent stroke.

Next: A Break in the Weather

The General and the Commodore stared at one another across the top of the gatehouse.  Between them stood King Lythe Methelin Petros II and gathered below stood a great throng of the cities population.

Two nights before, they had sat in the solar above the Castle Keldrun great hall.  A giant fire raging in the hearth.  Commanding General Gunter Neimann had held a glass aloft "to Almighty Emperor Herzogun" he proclaimed.  Commodore Ekhard of the Greatcog Erobern matched his proclamation and their glasses collided.  Back home it had been the festival of Winternights marking the beginning of winter.  The great hearth fire was all they would see of the great Morit Balpyre at home, whose flames were said to reach one hundred feet or more, bright enough to keep the Necmus away during the long cruel winter.  General Neimann had suggested constructing a great fire in the center of the city, but was advised against it as being "innappropriate" to celebrate a Morit holiday in the conquered city.  Unfortunately, he did not clearly pass this advise down to Major Adalgar, who had decided that the men needed a bit of a morale boost.  So as the two generals sat and celebrated, small eruptions of celebration were simultaneously taking place in Dorgat, in guard halls, and the commandeered Inn of the Bailey.  The next day, the outrage of the central city was palpable.  Their Midwinter Festival had been canceled by the Morits "out of respect for the dead that succumbed to the darkness" had been the official excuse.  The city felt the shame of delivery from the darkkness by the Morits, and so provided little complaint at the loss of their greatest holiday for the year.  But now, the Morits had violated that solemn loss by celebrating their own holiday.
Major Adalgar suffered another blistering dressing down by General Neimann, and the General decided to March out King Lythe II and have him calm the city.  He would have the King explain that these fires were necessary to keep the Necmus at bay.  He'd get that damn Farer Walthari to make a few religious pronouncements too, hold up his hands, dance a bit if he thought it would help. "We will offer them a small carrot while keeping them shamed into submission" he thought.
When all were gathered, the King strode forward to the edge of the parapet at the top of the gatehouse 30 feet above the people below and began to speak. 

****

Guwek Tyno and I stood there in the market square when the King spoke from above. I was hoping that he would break out and demand open rebellion from the Morits.  Scream out "avenge me!" and jump, but he didn't.  It was obvious to all that his speech was inspired by the Morits, and was intended to keep the peace by explaining that the darkness needed to be kept away by their fires and etcetera.  He did say one thing that cheered people a little, the canopy would be built, and there would be a very small Festival of Lights.  "For the inner city only".  Everyone waited for an Icekregg announcement, but it did not come.  One part of his speech apparently passed over my head, but was explained to me later as a "hidden message".  The king had said "We must become the allies of our deliverers as were the allies of the great Jastral Fane - we must help them carry the torch that lights our way through the darkness."  Sounded grand to me, probably sounded grand to them especially as they were in the castle that Keldrun Fane built.  But apparently Jastral Fane was a traitor to the kingdom and his allies were the Orogs.  Jastral Fane detested the Orogs and only used them and eventually led many of them to slaughter.  The king was telling us that these Morits are not our friends, they detest us too and will happily lead us to slaughter.  Nothing I didn't already know.

Next: A Bloody Incident