"You wouldn't be happy about the way things are going, would you?" Swan's voice was dangerous, no longer carping. Smoke was a political animal, worse than a crocodile. Crocs might eat their young but their treacheries were predictable.

Though irked, Smoke replied in a voice almost tender. "They have accomplished more than we dreamed."

The plain was dense with the dead and dying, man and beast. Mad war elephants careened around, respecting no allegiance. Only one Taglian legion had maintained its integrity. It had fought its way to a city gate and was covering the flight of other Taglians. Flames rose beyond the city from a military encampment. The Company had scored that much success against the apparent victors.

Smoke said, "They've lost a battle but they saved Taglios. They slew one of the Shadowmasters. They've made it impossible for the others to attack Taglios. Those will spend their remaining troops recapturing Dejagore."

Swan sneered. "Just pardon me if I don't dance for joy. I liked those guys. I didn't like the way you planned to shaft them."

Smoke's temper was strained. "They weren't fighting for Taglios, Swan. They wanted to use us to hammer through the Shadowlands to Khatovar. Which could be worse than a Shadowmasters' conquest."

Swan knew rationalization when he stepped in it. "And because they wouldn't lick your boots, even if they were willing to save your asses from the Shadowmasters, you figure it's handy, them getting caught here. A pity, say I. Would've been some swell show, watching your footwork if they'd come up winners and you had to deliver your end of the bargain."

"Ease up, Willow," Mather said.

Swan ignored him. "Call me a cynic, Smoke. But I'd bet about anything you and the Radisha had it scoped out to screw them from the start. Eh? Wouldn't do to have them slice through the Shadowlands. But why the hell not? I never did get that part."