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every man and animal, every bird, every engine, to hold him and beat him back.
    So, as we returned to the shattered camp of the Ninth Army, I began to seek out ways in my mind to draw fresh forces into the field to counter Jhansi’s schemes. The Empire of Vallia, of which I was hauled into being the emperor, was a rickety and ramshackle old construction these days. We ran on a knife edge. One mistake, one error of judgment, one lapse in our spirit of high resolve could let in the ravening monsters of destruction to tear down into ruin all that we strove for.

Chapter three
    Of a few words to Kov Turko
    The main beam of the catapult lay on the ground, the massive arm of laminated wood smashed through in two separate places. The rest of the engine looked as though a maddened giant had jumped up and down on it with hobnailed boots.
    Seg brought across a bronze helmet. The crown was dented into a recurve in the shape of a frog. If any poor devil had been wearing that at the time...
    Swords were shattered, spears splintered, shields torn to shreds.
    Annoying though this destruction of equipment might be — annoying! It was downright infuriating! — it meant nothing beside the distress caused by the casualties.
    Many of the men had saved themselves by simply running flat out. The swods near the circumference of the frog storm had raced away to safety. Many men fortunate enough to be close to their saddle animals had been able to gallop off. The vollers had all taken to the air and some of the vorlcas had drifted downwind as we had. The flutduins had not been touched, for which we gave thanks to Opaz.
    There remained many men injured, maimed, many dead. The lads had used their shields cannily, sheltering under whatever of cover there was and slanting the shields to take the blows glancingly. As we walked about the camp amid these scenes of desolation, we saw many pitiful examples of the horror that had blackened the Suns, many men crouched and smashed presenting bizarre and ghastly tableaux of death.
    If a frog falling from the sky could smash the great beam of a catapult, it would not be stopped by the flatbed of a cart, the angle of a shield.
    No, I will not elaborate on what had happened to the Ninth Army or the scenes I saw.
    Suffice it to say that we devoted all our resources to caring for the injured and burying the dead.
    All Turko’s usual quizzical mockery fled. As we carried out the necessary tasks he grew silent and cold. His mood remained somber. He was not dejected; both Nath and Seg were able to reassure him that his Ninth Army, although grievously wounded, was not irrevocably destroyed.
    “Yes, we will rebuild the army.” Turko got the words out as though they ground between granite mills.
    Seg looked over my shoulder just as I was about to make a remark I had pondered on and had, at last, decided to speak out.
    “Here come Khe-Hi and Ling-Li-Lwingling.”
    Turning about slowly at Seg’s words, I saw the Wizard and the Witch of Loh approaching, stepping carefully over debris and corpses. Men were hard at work clearing up; they could not be everywhere at once and I was helping in a particularly bad patch where the frogs had rained down like stone hail and the ground was windrowed with men and women.
    Ling-Li wore a bandage around her head, the yellow cloth making the pallor of her face look sickly. She did not seem to notice the ghastly moil about her; I fancied she did and marked all.
    “Majister,” said Khe-Hi.
    I looked at him, seeing him as he usually appeared, wearing his white robe, his red hair neatly arranged, the handsomeness of his face a little, just a little, plumper than it had been in earlier days. His voice was the same metallic meticulous instrument of his will. But I felt a tiny tremor of anxiety. Khe-Hi in these days usually called me Dray. Very few people aspire or are granted that method of address. Now he used the full formal majister, not even the familiar majis of those close to me, and