‘”Volse Pinescu, having heard of Lesk’s losses, determined a more subtle approach: he activated and armed a hundred trogs to send against The Dweller’s garden. They were to sack, burn, rape any women to the death and murder any men. They were raw, these trogs, with nothing of the Wamphyri in them; which is to say that while they did not much care for the sun, still its rays would not harm them. The Dweller’s vile mirrors would not avail him here! But . . . they, too, failed to return. Apparently they were suborned: The Dweller found caves in which to house them, placed them under his protection!
‘”Grigis of Grigis, being the son of the much-fabled Grigis the Gouge, thought to enrich his struggling stack with The Dweller’s wealth – perhaps even to steal his entire garden, which commands a lofty view, as we are all aware. Or maybe Grigis thought to do something more than this; for if he could gain some understanding of The Dweller’s magic and his cursed machines, then his own currently – er, middling station? – his circumstances, let us say, would be that much more improved and enhanced. Indeed, with The Dweller’s weapons at his command, the Lord Grigis might even lord it over all of us! But of course, we can be certain that this was not his intention. Alas, he lost three fine warriors, one hundred and fifty trogs and Travellers, two lieutenants. His stack is now inadequate to his needs. Let us be honest at least with ourselves: if not for the menace posed by The Dweller, one of us by now might well have found the resources to diminish Grigis’s lot further yet . . .
‘”My own interest is easy to explain: it is interest pure and simple. Curiosity! I desire to know who this Dweller is. Wamphyri? – a new breed born of the swamps, perhaps? If so, how came he by his knowledge of weapons, machines, foul magic? What does he there, in his garden? And why are we scorned and so rudely ignored?
“This, then, is the plan:
‘”We watch The Dweller! Nothing more, simply that -for now. Covertly, in the darkness of sundown – however many sundowns are required – we watch him. How? Through the eyes of our familiar creatures. Through bats great and small. From below, in stealth, where trogs shall crouch in shadows and observe; from above, even so high as they may glide, where our flyers may relay his every move; in our very minds, with which unceasingly we will spy upon him!
“The extent of his garden, dwellers therein other than he himself, the locations of his mirrors, weapons, the numbers of his retainers – until we know as much of him as is required. And when we know all of these things and can concert our attack accordingly – ”
“Then you strike?” This last from Karen. And all eyes turning her way where she sat at the head of the long table facing the bone-throne.
‘Shaithis eyed her leeringly. “Then we strike, Lady, surely? Unless you’ve already made up your mind not to be with us?”
‘But she merely smiled at him, saying: “Fear not, Lord Shaithis, for I shall be there.”
‘A sigh went up. All were in accord. And the Lady neatly netted. So it appeared.
Then they took their leave; Shaithis and Lascula being first away, then Lesk, Volse, Belath, Fess, Menor and all the rest, and lastly Grigis. The reverse order in which they’d arrived, leaving their least till last. And when Karen called me out of my hiding place, to attend her by a window, the sky was acrawl with them. They circled outwards, dark clouds of ill-omen in the lesser darkness, each swooping back to his own place, returning to his personal hell.
‘I turned to her. “Lady, you may not go with them against The Dweller!” And I told her all I had read in their minds.
‘She smiled a strange, sad, knowing smile. “But did you not hear me? I said I shall be there.”
‘”But-”
‘ “Be still! Why, I could swear you actually care for me! Aye, and perhaps I care for you. So make ready what weapons you desire to take with you. If you need something, ask for it. Make provision of whatever I have to offer. Now I rest me. When I awake, before sunup, then I keep my promise.”