"Got you again, eh?" Their battle has been on since the dawn. One-Eye starts each skirmish. Goblin usually finishes.

He grumbled something.

"What?"

"Yo!" someone shouted. "Everybody up top! Alert! Alert!"

One-Eye spat. "Twice in one day? What the hell?"

I knew what he meant. We have not had twenty alerts our whole two years out here. Now two in one day? Improbable.

I dashed back for my bow.

This time we went out with less clatter. Elmo had made his displeasure painfully apparent in a few private conversations.

Sunlight again. Like a blow. The entrance to the Hole faces westward. The sun was in our eyes when we emerged.

"You damned fool!" Elmo was yelling. "What the hell you doing?" A young soldier stood in the open, pointing. I let my gaze follow.

"Oh, damn," I whispered. "Oh, double bloody damn."

One-Eye saw it too. "Taken."

The airborne dot drifted higher, circling our hideout, spiral-ing inward. It wobbled suddenly.

"Yeah. Taken. Whisper or Journey?"

"Good to see old friends," Goblin said as he joined us.

We had not seen the Taken since reaching the Plain. Before that they had been in our hair constantly, having pursued us all the four years it had taken us to get here from Juniper.

They are the Lady's satraps, her understudies in terror. Once there were ten. In the time of the Domination, the Lady and her husband enslaved the greatest of their contemporaries, making them their instruments: the Ten Who Were Taken. The Taken went into the ground with their masters when the White Rose defeated the Dominator four centuries ago. And they arose with the Lady, two turns of the comet back. And in fighting among themselves-for some remained loyal to the Dominator-most perished.

But the Lady obtained new slaves. Feather. Whisper. Journey. Feather and the last of the old ones, the Limper, went down at Juniper, when we overcame the Dominator's bid for his own resurrection. Two are left. Whisper. Journey.