—and stopped a yard from Sirna, as a dozen mercenaries drew entirely real swords and daggers. Two more armed with half-pikes appeared on the stairway and a third in the door to the hall, with a pistol.

  “Archpriest Roxthar,” Phidestros said, in a tone that reminded Sirna of a baron she’d once heard sentencing a poacher. “There is nothing but the truth in what this woman says. This I swear, by Styphon God of Gods and Galzar Wolfshead, by Yirtta Allmother and by Tranth who blesses the hands of the craftsman. My men will swear the same.”

  “How many of them?”

  “As many as needed to make it unlawful for this woman to go before the Investigation, and ten more besides. The Iron Band knows good healing when it sees it.”

  One of the Red Hands started to draw his pistol at Phidestros’s tone. An imperative and slightly frantic gesture from Roxthar stopped him. The Archpriest’s good sense clearly extended to recognizing when he saw it a situation where one false move would leave him and his guards dead on the floor and the Investigation of Styphon’s enemies in chaos.

  “We value your judgment and honor you for your good work in the Holy Investigation,” Phidestros went on, as big a lie as Sirna had ever heard anyone deliver with a straight face. “Therefore we will also swear to watch this woman day and night, and bring word to the Investigation of any evil effects from her healing.”

  Phidestros paused, then fired his final shot. “And is not one of Styphon’s own signs of his presence among us his gift of healing?”

  Roxthar’s head jerked, but to Sirna’s relief he stopped short of smiling. “As you wish, Captain-General. Clearly Styphon’s favor is with you today, but this may not always be so. I shall return tomorrow, to see those wounded who have been healed in days past and to take the oaths you have promised.”

  The Investigator whirled and strode out so fast that the Guardsmen had to scurry to catch up with him. A chorus of harsh laughter and obscene remarks about why the Guardsmen had unbattered armor after a battle like this hurried their departure. Sirna also heard a few bawdy remarks, about who would have the job of watching her by night.

  Sirna was told afterward that she didn’t faint. She certainly remembered nothing until she found herself in a chair, her head pushed down between her knees and Menandra and Banner-Captain Geblon chafing her wrists so vigorously that they felt ready to catch fire. She kept her head down and let the chafing go on until the giddiness and the urge to vomit on an empty stomach passed.

  “Sirna–”

  “Get back down on that pallet, Captain-General!”

  “I need to talk–”

  “When you’re down on the pallet. Not a word until then!”

  Sitting cross-legged by Phidestros’s pallet, Sirna could hear him without anyone else being able to eavesdrop. Geblon made sure of that, with help from Menandra.

  “I’m sorry if I put you in danger,” she began. “But I couldn’t–”

  “And you didn’t, and there’s no need to apologize,” Phidestros interrupted, with a grin. “We are the Iron Band, and we can do nicely without temple-rats chittering in our ears in our own quarters. You, on the other hand…”

  Phidestros reached over and put a hand on her knee. “You’ve got a petty-captain’s share of pay for this past campaign coming, and more if Styphon’s House pays any of the victory gift they’ve promised. That’s enough to be a good dowry for you, or buy you a horse and cart with traveling rations and servants to take you home—if you have any home left.”

  “Or you could stay here and buy into a partnership with me,” Menandra put in. “I’m not as young as I once was. Somebody I could leave the place to would be a comfort to me now.”

  Phidestros gave Sirna a smile that showed what he thought of the Gull’s Nest’s prospects after the Grand Host departed.

  “A partnership–” Sirna began, then pressed her palms into her eyes until the pain and the swimming red fire killed the desire to laugh. She owed Menandra too much to ridicule the idea of staying in Hostigos Town and becoming assistant madam of a bordello!

  “I don’t advise any of those,” Phidestros went on. “Roxthar can’t try anything with us—or at least anything the rest of the Inner Circle or Grand Master Soton won’t stop, as long as I’m Captain-General of the Grand Host of Styphon. Soton and Anaxthenes know good mercenaries are valuable, as long as Kalvan’s still on the loose.

  “You, on the other hand, he’ll snap up like a weasel grabbing a new-hatched chick the moment you’re out of our protection. You’ve humiliated him before men he distrusts. He’ll forgive that the day Queen Rylla begs on her knees for a pardon from Styphon’s House.”

  Phidestros was making sense—too much sense—but not telling her what to do. Or perhaps he assumed she already knew, and was waiting for her to offer it freely.

  “I… I suppose I could ride with the Iron Band, that is, if you’ve a place for a healer. I’d like to train some of your men to help me, if that could be arranged, because I really can’t do it all myself–”

  Phidestros was kissing her eyelids and cheeks as well as her lips. Sirna wasn’t quite ready to kiss him back, but she didn’t stop him, either. She managed to be deaf to the new chorus of cheers and bawdy remarks around her.

  “Some of my girls may want to come with you,” Menandra added. “Hostigos Town may not be the most comfortable place for a while. I’ve three or four who’ve earned out their time and may want to travel on. If you could train them too—

  It’s insane! Here she was, planning to live as the healer to a band of Fourth Level mercenaries and madam to their field brothel. Not to mention, probably, mistress to their Captain-General—an idea that now left her feeling curious rather than degraded. Although please, let the contraceptive implants not run out before I find a way home!

  It was insane—and it would keep her alive. If Roxthar’s Investigators had to fight the Iron Band to reach her, they probably would give her up as not worth the trouble. If she had to sleep with Phidestros to keep his favor, she would at least be sleeping with an interesting man—and not interesting in a purely academic sense, either…

  She would go with Phidestros and his men. She would do what they wanted her to do, and they would keep her alive until Great King Kalvan returned and took vengeance for this day and all the other crimes of Styphon’s House.

  Sirna was sure that day would come. It would be worth enduring much to be there to see it, and maybe, Dralm willing, help bring it about.

  V

  Tortha Karf, former Paratime Police Chief and now a Paratime Commissioner, ploughed his way through the guards and secretaries into Chief Verkan’s office. He found his successor sitting behind his horseshoe desk, face buried in his hands. Verkan’s face reminded Tortha of his fieldhands’ wives, back on Fifth Level Sicily. When the master announced he was forsaking his retirement, the women acted as if half the tribe’s men had just died in battle!

  “What’s the matter, Vall? Has Dalla decided on another divorce?’’

  Verkan looked up, startled as if he hadn’t known he had a visitor. “Oh, Tortha. It’s just wool-gathering. My friend Kalvan’s lost damned near everything. I just finished reviewing the tape on the fall of Tarr-Hostigos.

  “Instead of leaving anything for the Styphoni, Ptosphes blew up the castle, the whole Styphoni storming party, and himself. Roxthar has turned his Investigators loose, and they’re busy murdering, torturing, or harassing any Hostigi who didn’t flee with Kalvan.”

  “Sounds as if Ptosphes made the best of a bad job. Nothing sad about taking that big an escort with you. As for the other Hostigi—they’re just getting now what they’ve already had on all the other Styphon’s House time-lines where they didn’t have a Lord Kalvan to save them.”

  The Commissioner leaned over the desk and quietly continued. “Vall, you’re a realist and a historian as well as a Paracop. You know all this. What’s really bothering you?”

  Verkan winced as if he’d been slapped, then laughed. “You really know how to go to the heart of things. Maybe I will too, if I sit at this desk another century or so.”

  Not much chance of that if he keeps taking every friend’s bad luck so personally, thought Tortha. A shame, really, because apart from his Kalvan problem Verkan showed every sign of being an above-average Chief for the Paracops.

  “Now, once again. What’s eating you this way?”

  “I let a good friend down, a friend who was counting on me. Here I’ve got all this power and I can’t do a Dralm-damned thing to help without upsetting some bureaucrat or breaking some Paratime regulation.”

  “You’re not making sense. You’re falling into outtime guilt and loyalty patterns. If you weren’t Chief I’d suggest you make a short visit to our Bureau of PsychHygiene clinic.”

  “I’d rather be in the hands of Roxthar’s Investigation!”

  “That’s where you might be right now, if you’d been at Ardros Field. There, or just one more corpse in a mass grave. What good would either have done Kalvan? He’s alive and so are you, and I think you can do him a lot more good that way. Where is he now, by the way?”

  “They’ve crossed the border of the Trygath—Hos-Rathon, it’s called now.”

  “That’s the Seventh Kingdom Kalvan sponsored, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. None of the other Great Kingdoms have recognized it.”

  “Then Great King–”

  “Nestros.”

  “Great King Nestros should be a good friend to Kalvan. He must know he’s next on Styphon’s House’s list.”

  “He probably is, but it’s going to be a while.” Verkan seemed more at ease now; his analysis of the situation began to flow with his usual fluency. “Ptosphes inflicted heavy casualties on the Grand Host and gave their morale a nasty jar. They’re probably not fit for a long pursuit into hostile country now.

  “Besides, the victors will be dividing the spoils. Probably falling out over them, sooner or later. This much land hasn’t changed hands since the Zarthani Knights broke the Great River Confederation. Then there was only one real claimant, too. Now there are about six arguing over the pie.”

  “Then Kalvan should have a while to figure out what to do next,” Tortha added. “In his place, I’d build a power base so that I could be a valuable ally to anyone who felt he didn’t get his share of the pie.”

  “He could do that, selling his services in the Middle Kingdoms as a mercenary leader. Everybody’s going to need soldiers, until the barbarians are beaten back. The only thing holding the Middle Kingdoms to Styphon’s House was the fireseed secret, and that’s blown away. King Theovacar might even find Kalvan useful against his own barons, if there aren’t enough barbarians to fight.”

  “Vail, I think you’ve just described your own next opportunity. Theovacar knows Verkan the Trader. He also knows that you’re a Baron of Hos-Hostigos. Who knows, you might lead him to make you one of his negotiators with his new royal guest, King Kalvan.”

  “Of course! It’s going to take some planning and all the supplies I can beg, borrow, or steal on a few next-door time-lines, but–” Verkan frowned, then laughed out loud, a sound that made Tortha Karf want to do the same. He held his tongue, as Verkan tried to glare at him, then laughed again.

  “You sly old dog! You planned this all along. Well, the penalty is going to be taking me and Dalla out to dinner at the Constellation House. We can finish roughing out the plans there.”

  Verkan started to swivel his chair, then stopped. “Just as a suggestion, why don’t we sit on the fact that I’ve recovered. The rumors that I’m sitting staring at the wall have already brought out into the open a few mice who think the cat’s out to lunch. If we keep the rumors going a few more days, we may find a few more mice.”

  “You’re not thinking of hiding it from Dalla, I hope?”

  “If I did that, I would belong in the clinic!” Verkan said with a laugh. He swiveled his chair, and the rest of the world might have vanished in mist as Verkan started punching requests for data into his computer keyboard. Tortha Karf found a comfortable chair and leaned back with a contented sigh. The Verkan Vall he’d known for fifty years was back—and on the hunt again.

  Science Fiction

  Awake in the Night Land by John C. Wright

  City Beyond Time: Tales of the Fall of Metachronopolis by John C. Wright

  Somewhither: A Tale of the Unwithering Realm by John C. Wright

  The Corroding Empire 1: Corrosion by Johan Kalsi

  Back From the Dead by Rolf Nelson

  Hyperspace Demons by Jonathan Moeller

  Mutiny in Space by Rod Walker

  Alien Game by Rod Walker

  Young Man's War by Rod Walker

  QUANTUM MORTIS A Man Disrupted by Steve Rzasa and Vox Day

  QUANTUM MORTIS Gravity Kills by Steve Rzasa and Vox Day

  QUANTUM MORTIS A Mind Programmed by Jeff Sutton, Jean Sutton, and Vox Day

  Victoria: A Novel of Fourth Generation War by Thomas Hobbes

  Fantasy

  One Bright Star to Guide Them by John C. Wright

  The Book of Feasts & Seasons by John C. Wright

  Iron Chamber of Memory by John C. Wright

  Moth & Cobweb 1: Swan Knight's Son by John C. Wright

  Moth & Cobweb 2: Feast of the Elfs by John C. Wright

  Moth & Cobweb 3: Swan Knight's Sword by John C. Wright

  Moth & Cobweb 4: Daughter of Danger by John C. Wright

  Moth & Cobweb 5: City of Corpses by John C. Wright

  Moth & Cobweb 6: Tithe to Tartarus by John C. Wright

  Arts of Dark and Light 0: Summa Elvetica: A Casuistry of the Elvish Controversy by Vox Day

  Arts of Dark and Light 1: A Throne of Bones by Vox Day

  Arts of Dark and Light 2: A Sea of Skulls by Vox Day

  A Magic Broken by Vox Day

  The Wardog's Coin by Vox Day

  The Last Witchking by Vox Day

  The Altar of Hate by Vox Day

  The War in Heaven by Vox Day

  The World in Shadow by Vox Day

  The Wrath of Angels by Vox Day

  Military Science Fiction

  There Will Be War Vol. I ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. II ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. III ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. IV ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. V ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. VI ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. VII ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. VIII ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. IX ed. Jerry Pournelle

  There Will Be War Vol. X ed. Jerry Pournelle

  Plague Wars 0: The Eden Plague by David VanDyke

  Plague Wars 1: Reaper's Run by David VanDyke

  Plague Wars 2: Skull's Shadows by David VanDyke

  Galactic Liberation 1: Starship Liberator by David VanDyke and B.V. Larson

  Galactic Liberation 2: Battleship Indomitable by David VanDyke and B.V. Larson

  Riding the Red Horse Vol. 1 ed. Tom Kratman and Vox Day

  Fiction

  An Equation of Almost Infinite Complexity by J. Mulrooney

  Hitler in Hell by Martin van Creveld

  Loki's Child by Fenris Wulf

  The Ames Archives 1: Brings the Lightning by Peter Grant

  The Ames Archives 2: Rocky Mountain Retribution by Peter Grant

  The Missionaries by Owen Stanley

  Non-Fiction

  4th Generation Warfare Handbook by William S. Lind and LtCol Gregory A. Thiele, USMC

  A History of Strategy: From Sun Tzu to William S. Lind by Martin van Creveld

  Equality: The Impossible Quest by Martin van Creveld

  Clio & Me: An Intellectual Autobiography by Martin van Creveld

  Four Generations of Modern War by William S. Lind

  On War: The Collected Columns of William S. Lind 2003-2009 by William S. Lind

  MAGA Mindset: Making YOU and America Great Again by Mike Cernovich

  The Nine Laws by Ivan Throne

  Appendix N: A Literary History of Dungeons & Dragons by Jeffro Johnson

  Transhuman and Subhuman: Essays on Science Fiction and Awful Truth by John C. Wright

  Astronomy and Astrophysics by Dr. Sarah Salviander

  Compost Everything: The Good Guide to Extreme Composting by David the Good

  Grow or Die: The Good Guide to Survival Gardening by David the Good

  Push the Zone: The Good Guide to Growing Tropical Plants Beyond the Tropics by David the Good

  SJWs Always Lie: Taking Down the Thought Police by Vox Day

  SJWs Always Double Down: Anticipating the Thought Police by Vox Day

  Collected Columns, Vol. I: Innocence & Intellect, 2001—2005 by Vox Day

  Collected Columns, Vol. II: Conceit & Crisis, 2006—2009 by Vox Day

  Collected Columns, Vol. III: Failure & Freedom, 2010—2012 by Vox Day

  Cuckservative: How “Conservatives” Betrayed America by John Red Eagle and Vox Day

  On the Existence of Gods by Dominic Saltarelli and Vox Day

  On the Question of Free Trade by James D. Miller and Vox Day

  Do We Need God To Be Good? by C.R. Hallpike

  The Last Closet: The Dark Side of Avalon by Moira Greyland Peat

  The LawDog Files by LawDog

  The LawDog Files: African Adventures by LawDog

  Table of Contents

  Introduction: Armageddon

  Still Time, by James Patrick Kelly

  Surviving Armageddon, by Jerry Pournelle

  To the Storming Gulf, by Gregory Benford

  Dinosaurs, by Geoffrey A. Landis

  The Prevention of War: About Unthinking the Thinkable, by Reginald Bretnor

  Day of Succession, by Theodore L. Thomas

  The Irvhank Effect, by Harry Turtledove

  Three Poems