other demolished one of Lattens' own towns.
'Oh.,
'Oh dear.'
'Bad luck, young master.'
'For shame!'
Lattens said nothing. He stood, looking utterly crestfallen, at the top of the ladder, his little wooden sword hanging loosely in his hand. He looked back at his father with sad, dejected eyes.
His father frowned, then winked at him. The boy's expression did not change. Silence hung under the platform's awning.
DeWar jumped up on the balustrade and crouched there, knuckles dragging on the stonework. 'Ha!' he said, then jumped down. 'Missed!' He had already tensioned his own catapult, the arm bowed back to about the two- thirds position. 'Victory is mine! Hee-heel' He chose the biggest stone from his own supply, wound some more tension into the machine and put the rock in the scoop. He looked up at Lattens with a fierce, mischievous grin, which faltered only momentarily when he saw the look on the child's face. He rubbed his hands and wagged one finger at the boy. 'Now we see who's boss, my young pretender-general!'
He adjusted the catapult slightly and then pulled the lanyard. The catapult juddered and the great rock whooshed up into the sky. DeWar leapt back on to the stone railing again.
The giant stone was a sailing black shape against the sky and clouds for a long moment, then it rushed back to earth and dropped with a titanic splash into the sea.
The water threw itself up into the air in a great explosive tower of white foam, then slumped back down and rushed out in all directions in a mighty circular wave.
'What?' DeWar screeched from the balustrade, putting his hands to the sides of his head and grabbing two handfuls of hair. 'No! No! Nooooo!'
'Ha ha!' Lattens yelled, pulled his general's hat off his head and threw it in the air. 'Ha ha ha!'
The rock had fallen not into the lobe of the sea which was rimmed mostly by Lattens' towns and cities but that which held almost all DeWar's intact settlements. The great wave rushed out from where it had landed, a good couple of strides or so from the straits separating the two lobes of the sea. One by one it swamped the cities and towns by the water, flooding one or two of Lattens' but destroying a great deal more of DeWar's.
'Hurrah!' RuLeuin yelled, and threw his own hat into the air. Perrund smiled broadly at DeWar from behind the veil. UrLeyn nodded and grinned and clapped. Lattens gave a deep bow and made a rude, tongue-wagging gesture at DeWar, who had rolled off the stone railing and was curled up on the tiles by the side of the balustrade, thumping one clenched fist weakly off the tiled surface.
'No more!' he moaned. 'I give in! He's too good for me! Providence defends the Protector and all his generals! I am an unworthy wretch ever to have set myself against them! Take pity on me and let me surrender like the abject cur that I am!'
'I win!' Lattens said, and with a grin at his nurse he twirled on the platform and let himself fall backwards into the woman's arms. She grunted with the impact, but caught the boy and held him.
'Here, lad! Here!' His father stood and went to the front of the platform, holding out his arms. 'Bring that brave young warrior to me!'
The nurse duly delivered Lattens into his father's embrace while the others gathered round, applauding and laughing and clapping backs and offering congratulations.
'A fine campaign, young man!'
'Quite splendid!'
'Providence in your pocket!'
'Well, well done!'
'— and then we could play the game at night, Father, when it's a dark night and make flame-balls and light them and set the cities on fire! Couldn't we?'
DeWar stood and brushed himself down. Perrund looked at him over her veil and he grinned and even blushed a little.
15. THE DOCTOR
'Well?' the King asked.
The Doctor leaned closer and peered at the wound. Duke Walen's body lay on a long table in the withdrawing room where he had been murdered. The small feast that had occupied the table when we had brought the body in had been set on the floor to one side. The table cloth had been wrapped over the Duke's body so that his legs and belly and his head had been covered, leaving only his chest exposed. He had been pronounced dead by the Doctor, though not until after she had done the most extraordinary thing.
The Doctor had seemed to kiss the old man while he lay bleeding and shaking on the balcony. She had knelt by his side and blown her own breath into him, puffing out first her cheeks and then his, so that his chest rose and fell. She was at the same time attempting to staunch the flow of blood that had issued from the wound in his chest, using a piece of material torn from her own dress. This then became my duty, using a clean kerchief while she concentrated on blowing into Duke Walen's mouth.
After a while, when she had been unable to feel any pulse for some long time, she had shaken her head and sat back, exhausted, on the floor.
A ring of servants, all with swords or long knives, had been established round the scene. When the Doctor and I looked up it was to see Duke Quettil, the two Guard Commanders, Adlain and Polchiek, and the King looking down at us. Behind us, in the darkened room, a girl was weeping quietly.
'Bring him inside. Light all the candles,' Duke Quettil told the armed servants. He looked at the King, who nodded.
'Well, Doctor?' the King said again.
'A dagger wound, I think,' the Doctor said. 'A very thin, sharp blade. Steeply angled. It must have penetrated the heart. Much of the bleeding was internal, which is why it's still seeping out. If I'm to be sure of all this, I will need to open the corpse.'
'I think we know the main thing, which is that he is dead,' Adlain said. From beyond a line of servants by the windows, a woman's screams could be heard. I imagined it was the Duke's wife.
'Who was in the room?' Quettil asked his Guard Commander.
'These two,' Polchiek said, nodding at a young man and woman, both hardly any older than myself, both quite handsome and with their dress in some disarray. Each was held from behind by two of the armed servants. It was only now starting to occur to me that there had been a particular explanation for the great numbers of servants at the ball, and for the fact that many of them looked somewhat coarser than one expected of servants. They were really guards. That was why they had all suddenly produced weapons at the first hint of mischief.
The young woman's face was red and swollen with crying, and held a look of blank terror. A wail from beyond the windows drew her attention and she stared in that direction. The face of the young man at her side looked almost as bloodless as the body of Duke Walen.
'And who are you?' Adlain asked the young couple.
'Uo-Uo-Uoljeval, sir,' the young man said, swallowing heavily. 'A squire in the em-employ of Duke Walen, sir.'
Adlain looked at the young woman, who was staring straight ahead. 'And you, madam?'
The young woman shivered and looked not at Adlain but at the Doctor. Still she did not say anything.
Eventually the young man said, 'Droythir, sir. Her name is Droythir. Of Mizui. A chambermaid to Lady Gilseon. My betrothed.'
'Sir, can't we let the Duchess in now?' the Doctor asked the King. He shook his head and held up one hand.
Guard Commander Adlain jerked his head back as though pointing at the girl with his chin and demanded, 'And what were you doing in here, madam?'
The young woman stared at him as though he'd spoken in some utterly unknown language. It crossed my
