Jerrad shrugged. "Just sitting there. All month. Except one night last week he flew the horse somewhere back east. He was back before dark next day."

"You know the way down?"

"I haven't been any closer. Didn't want to spook him."

"Okay. We'd better start now. Make use of what light's left."

"Spread out and come at him from every direction. Jerrad, whatever you do, don't let him get to the Horn. Kill him if you have to."

It was past midnight when they attacked the old man, and could have been later still had there been no moon.

The Star Rider wakened to a footfall, bolted toward the Horn with stunning speed.

Jerrad got there first, gutting knife in hand. The old man changed course in midstride, made an astounding leap onto the back of his winged horse. The beast climbed the sky with a sound like that of beating dragon's pinions.

"Got away!" the leader cursed. "Damned! Damned! Damned!"

"Lightfooted old geezer," someone observed.

And Jerrad, "What matter? We got what we came for."

The leader raised the bulky Horn. "Yes. We have it now. The keystone of the New Empire. And the Werewind will be the cornerstone."

With varying enthusiasm, as their ancestors had, the others said, "Hail the Empire."

From high above, distance-attenuated, came a sound that might have been laughter.

ONE: He Is Entered in the Lists of the World

While hooded executioners lifted and set the ornately carven stake, a child wept at their feet. When they brought the woman, her eyes red from crying and her hair disheveled, he tried to run to her. Gently, an executioner scooped him up and set him in the arms of a surprised old peasant. While the hooded men piled faggots around her calves, the woman stared at child and man, seeing nothing else, her expression pleading. A priest gave her the sacraments because she had committed no sin in the eyes of his religion.