He knew he could not expect such generosity from these foes.

The General dropped his empty pistol and raised his hands in the universal gesture of surrender.

The approaching blue figure was a small, dumpy woman of middle years, dressed in a nun's formal, restrictive robes; not what Quelgrum had expected.

"I am Sister Judan,” the woman said, in a contralto that Quelgrum might have considered pleasant at a more auspicious time. “I am not alone. My least cry will bring the undead creatures down upon you."

With a heavy heart, Quelgrum said, “I understand, Sister Judan. We surrender; we have little choice."

"How true,” the nun said. Her voice was light and airy, but Quelgrum saw the steel in her expression; this was not a woman with whom to trifle. “You, warrior,” she snapped, turning towards Erik, “drop that metallic abomination at once!"

Erik glanced towards Quelgrum. The General gave a heavy, resigned nod, and flung his own empty rifle aside, raising his hands as he did so.

Judan nodded. “That's much better,” she said. “Come with me."

Tordun, swaying on his feet, growled, but Quelgrum quelled him with a shake of his head. “We've lost, Tordun,” he said. “It's all over."

"You may keep your staff, thaumaturge,” Judan said to Numal. “Just remember that the least attempt at bravado will mean the end for all of you."

Quelgrum and his companions followed the small woman down the road at a snail's pace, and the zombies followed them.

Just like sheepdogs leading lambs to the slaughter, thought the old soldier.

"Why haven't you just killed us all?” he asked the nun.

Judan laughed-a merry, tinkling sound, at odds with the grim situation. “Why, we have no wish to kill you, General,” she said. “We just wish to educate you. Questor Grimm will need a retinue when he returns to High Lodge. You will be proud to accompany him when we have finished with you."