'Yes,' she said.
'Get up Hurtha,' I said. He had once again returned to his blankets.
'It is too early,' he said. Actually it was not all that early. Some other folks were now up, too, about the camp.
'You may be in jeopardy of your life,' I informed him.
'At this hour?' he asked, horrified.
'Yes,' I said. 'The enemy may be near.'
'What enemy?' he asked.
'I do not know,' I said.
'Report to me when you learn,' he said, rolling over.
'I am not joking,' I said.
'I feared not,' he grumbled.
'Get up,' I said.
'One cannot begin to fight until the fight has begun, can one?' he asked. 'I hope it does not follow from that that fighting is impossible,' I said.
'Of course not,' he said. I began to sense and dread a lesson in Alar logic. 'Well, in a sense,' I said, 'maybe not.'
'Has the fight begun?' he inquired.
'No,' I said.
'Then you cannot expect me to begin fighting,' he said.
'Of course not,' I said, hesitantly.
'When the fray begins,' said he, 'awaken me.'
'Do you wish to be murdered in your bed?' I asked.
'I had never thought much about it,' said Hurtha, 'but now that I reflect actively upon the matter, no. Why? Who is going to murder me in my bed?' 'I am considering it,' I said.
'You will not do so,' he informed me.
'Why?' I asked, genuinely interested.
'Among other things,' he said, 'your respect for poetry is to great.' 'You must be prepared for combat,' I told him.
'I am preparing even now,' he said, rolling over.
'How is that?' I asked.
'I am pacing myself,' he said. 'I am conserving my strength. Surely you are aware that a well-rested body and clear mind are two among several of the soldier's best friends.'
'Perhaps,' I granted him.
'They are important, too, to poetry,' he said, 'of the sturdy, manly sort, that is, not to the neurasthenic drivel of mere poetasters and versifiers.'
'Doubtless,' I said. He was then again asleep. Hurtha was one of the few folks I had ever known who had the capacity to fall asleep like lightning. Doubtless this was connected with a clear conscious. Alars, incidentally, are renowned for their capacity to wreak havoc, conduct massacres, chop off heads, and such, and then get a good night's sleep afterwards. They just do not worry about such things. I hoped that the enemy, if there was one, would not now fall upon the camp like a storm. Still, if they did, Hurtha might have escaped, sleeping through the slaughter. 'Did you hear the alarm bar?' asked Mincon, coming over to me, his blanket over his arm.
'Yes,' I said.
'I thought I might have dreamed it,' he said.
'Boabissia heard it too,' I said.
'It is not now ringing,' he said.
'No,' I said.
'The camp is pretty quiet,' he said.
'Yes,' I said. We could see folks going about their business, folding their blankets, seeking out the latrines, starting up their morning fires.
'It was a false alarm,' he said.
'Apparently,' I said.
'You are not certain?' he asked.
'No,' I said.
'What could of happened?' he asked.
'I heard a fellow crying out that the city had fallen,' I said.
'That is impossible,' he said. 'No enemy is within hundreds of pasangs. Torcadino is garrisoned. It is impregnable. It lies even, in these times, in the midst of allied armies.'
'It could be done.' I said.
'You would have to move an army through armies to take the city,' he said. 'Or over armies,' I said.
'You would have to smuggle and army into the city,' he said.
'Yes,' I said.
'Impossible,' he said.
'With some modest collusion, not really,' I said.
'You're joking,' he said.
'No, I said.'
'If there were such a thing,' he said, 'we would hear of it. There would be great fighting,'
'It is quiet here,' I said. 'That does not mean, however, that somewhere else in the city, even now, there might not be fighting. A few blocks away, unknown to us, men may be dying. The streets may be running with blood.' 'I see no smoke,' he said. 'There seem no signs of flames.' 'That could mean little,' I said. 'Perhaps it is desired to keep the city intact, to maintain the integrity of its walls, to preserve its resources.' 'Perhaps,' he smiled.
'I looked at him, suddenly, surprised.
'There is one way to find out,' he said.
'How?' I asked.
'Climb up here,' he said, 'to the wagon box,'
I joined him on the height of the wagon box. He pointed over the wagons, over the camp, over the buildings about the camp.
'Do you see the cylinder there?' he asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'That is the central cylinder of Torcadino' he said, 'the administrative headquarters of her first executive, whether it be Administrator or Ubar.' 'Yes,' I said.
'Look to its summit,' he said.
I did so.
'Do you know the flag of Torcadino?' he asked.
'No,' I said.
'It does not matter,' he said, 'for of recent months what has flown there has not been the flag of Torcadino, but another flag, that of Cos.'
'There is no flag there,' I said. 'I know the flag of Cos. I have seen it frequently. But there is no flag whatsoever there.'
'Do you not find that interesting?' he asked.
'You are not a simple wagoner,' I said.
'What do you see there?' he asked.
'I see a standard,' I said.
'What sort of standard?' he asked.
'A military standard, I suppose,' I said.
'Describe it,' he said.
'It is silver,' I said. 'It is far off. It is hard to make out. The sun is glinting on it.'
'It is the standard of the silver tarn,' he said. 'It is mounted on a silver pole. Near the top of the pole there is
