"I was happy where I was. Working for you gave me an unusual blend of securityand excitement with little personal risk-at least until quite recently. Once, Iused to daydream about being an adventurer or a fearless leader of men. Then, Imet you and learned what it took to lead that sort of life; I lack the balanceof caution and recklessness, the sheer personal charisma necessary forleadership. I know that now and am content to do what I do best: risking someoneelse's money or giving advice to the person who actually has to make the lifeand-death decisions."

A cloud passed over Saliman's expression. "That doesn't mean, however, that Idon't share many of your emotions. I helped you build your web of power inSanctuary; helped you select and hire the hawkmasks who were so casuallybutchered in the raid. I, too, want revenge- though I know I'm not the one toengineer it. You are, and I'm willing to risk everything to keep you alive untilthat vengeance is complete."

"Alive like this?" Jubal challenged. "How much charisma does a cripple have?Enough to rally a vengeful army?"

Saliman averted his eyes. "If you cannot regain your power," he admitted, "I'llfind another to follow. But first I'll stay with you until you've reached yourdecision. If there's anyone who can inspire a force it's you-even crippled."

"Then your advice is to let Stulwig do his work?"

"There seems to be no option-unless you'd rather death."

"There is one," Jubal grinned humorlessly, "though it's one I am loathe to take.I want you to seek out Balustrus, the metal-master. Tell him of our situationand ask... no, beg him to give us shelter."

"Balustrus?" Saliman repeated the name as if it tasted bad. "I don't trust him.There're those who say he's mad."

"He's served us well in the past-whatever else he's done," the slaver pointed