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； and Mark could feel a faint surge of power pass into his hand through the hilt。 In that direction was the Emperor。 Or； at least； that was the way to go to ultimately reach him。
For several days Mark and his surviving Tasavaltan escort journeyed in safety。 Then they began to observe the unmistakable signs of armies near。 And then at last there was the noise of a battle close ahead。
From a distance Mark watched an enemy force of overwhelming strength； what he thought had to be the main body of the Dark King's troops； first advance in one direction； then reverse themselves though not as in defeat； he thought … and trudge in mass formation the other way。 The actual fighting had been somewhere beyond them； where he could not see it。
When the enemy had moved out of the way； and almost out of sight； Coinspinner still pointed him toward the place where the battle had been。
When Mark with his small escort reached the battlefield； they found it almost devoid of living things； except for a few scavengers； gathering on wing and afoot。 There were a hundred human dead or more； concentrated mostly in one place。 Among the fallen Mark could not see a single one in Vilkata's colors。 The only livery visible was Sir Andrew's orange and black。
On the field one human figure was still standing。 Slightly built； it was garbed in a robe that had once been white； and looked like one of Ardneh's servants who had been through some arduous journey and perhaps a battle or two as well。 When Mark first saw it； this figure was bending over one of the dead men who lay a little apart from the others。 Then； even as Mark watched； the figure in white began to labor awkwardly at digging … a grave； Mark supposed … using the blade of a long knife。
As Mark and his troops； in the colors of Tasavalta； rode nearer； the figure in white took note of them and stopped what it was doing to await their approach。 But it did not try to run。
When Mark got closer； he recognized the isolated dead man as Sir Andrew。 In war it was no great surprise； particularly on a field of slaughter like this one； to find a rade and a leader dead。 But still the discovery was no less a shock。
Mark jumped down from his mount and put his hand on the gore…spattered head of the Kind Knight； and remarked his peaceful face。 〃Ardneh greet you；〃 he muttered； and for a moment at least could feel real hope that it might be so。
Then Mark stood up。 Taking Denis for a genuine Ardneh…pilgrim who had probably just wandered onto the scene； Mark asked； 〃But where are his own people； all slaughtered？〃 He looked round him at the few score dead。 〃This can't be his entire army！〃
Denis answered。 〃Many were slaughtered； I Fear。 The Dark King's cavalry attacked also； ahead； beyond those hills。 The officers remaining are trying to rally whatever troops are left。 Sir Andrew's close friends wanted to bury him … what I am trying to do … but they decided Sir Andrew would have wanted them to see to the living first。 As I am sure he would。〃 〃You knew him； then？〃
The youth in ragged white nodded assent。 〃I had been with him for some days。 I think I came to know him； in a way。 I am called Denis the Quick； of Tashigang。〃 And Denis's quick eyes flicked around Mark's escort。 〃I did not know that there were Tasavaltan troops nearby。〃
〃There are not many。 My name is Mark。〃
Nor had Denis failed to notice the large black hilt at Mark's side。 〃There was a man of that name who had … and still has； for all I know … much to do with the Twelve Swords。 Or so all the stories say。 But I didn't know that he was Tasavaltan。〃
〃I am not Tasavaltan； really。。。 and yes； I have had much to do with them。 Much more than I could wish。〃 Mark sighed。
But even as he spoke； Mark was tiredly； dutifully drawing Coinspinner again。 While Denis and the Tasavaltan soldiers watched in alert silence； he swept it once more round the horizon。 〃That way；〃 Mark muttered； as he resheathed the Blade。 〃And nearby； now； I think。 The feeling in the hilt is strong。〃
The Sword has pointed in the direction of the abandoned carnival； which was just visible over the nearest gentle rise of ground。
Mark began to walk in the direction of the carnival； leading his mount。 His escort followed silently； professionally alert for trouble。 Denis hesitated for a moment； then abandoned his gravedigging temporarily and came with them too。 The ruined show was only about a hundred meters distant。
Standing on the edge of the area of dilapidated tents and flimsy shelters； Mark looked about him with a frown。 〃This is very much like。。。〃
〃What？〃
〃Nothing。〃 But then Mark hesitated。 His voice when he replied again was strained。 〃Like one carnival in particular that I remember seeing once。。。 long ago。〃
It was of course impossible for him to be certain； but he had a feeling that it was really the same one。 Something about the tents； or maybe the names of the performers … though he could not remember any of them consciously … on the few worn； faded signs that were visible。
Yes。 Nine years ago； or thereabouts； this very carnival … he thought … had been encamped far from here； in front of what had then been Sir Andrew's castle。 That had been the night of Mark's second encounter with a Sword； the night on which someone had thrust Sightblinder into his hands。。。
One of the mounted Tasavaltan troopers sounded a low whistle； a signal meaning that an enemy had been sighted nearby。 Mark forgot the past and sprang alertly into his saddle。
There was barely time to grab for weapons before a patrol of the Dark King's cavalry was upon them。 Vilkata's troops abandoned stealth when they saw that they were seen； to e shouting and charging between the tents and flimsy shacks。
Mark； with Coinspinner raised； met one mounted attacker； a grizzled veteran who fell back wide…eyed when he saw his opponent brandishing a Sword； the magnificent blade made the god…forged weapons unmistakable even when the black hilt with its identifying symbol was hidden in a fist。 Other fighting swirled around them。 Mark's riding beast was slightly wounded。 He had to struggle to control it； as it carried him some little distance where he found himself almost alone。 The Sword of Good Luck could create certain difficulties for a leader； even when it perhaps simultaneously saved his life。 He waved a signal to such of his Tasavaltan people as he could see； then rode to lead them in a counterattack around a wooden structure a little larger than the rest of the carnival's ponents。
In a moment he discovered that his troops had evidently missed or misread his hand signal； and he was for the moment pletely alone。 Swearing by the anatomies of several gods and goddesses； he was wheeling his mount again； to get back to his troops； when his eye fell on the faded legend over the flimsy building's doorway。
It read： THE HOUSE OF MIRTH
And just outside the House of Mirth； a man was sitting； waiting for Mark。 The man； garbed in dull colors； sat there so quietly on a little bench that Mark had ridden past him once without even noticing his presence。 Mark was sure at once that the man was waiting for him； because he was looking at Mark as if he had been expecting him and no one else。
The man on the bench was pactly built； of indeterminate age； and wrapped in a gray cloak of quiet but now somewhat dusty elegance。 His face； Mark thought； was quite calm and also quite ordinary； and he sat there almost meekly； unarmed but with a long empty scabbard at his belt。
Coinspinner pointed straight at the man。 Then the Sword seemed to leap and twist in Mark's hand； and he could not retain his hold upon it。 The man on the bench had done nothing at all that Mark could see； but the Sword of Chance was no longer in Mark's grip； and the scabbard at the Emperor's side was no longer empty。
Even apart from Coinspinner's evidence； Mark had not the least doubt of who he was facing。 He had heard descriptions。 He had heard enough to make him wonder if； in spite of himself； he might be awed when this moment came。 But in fact the first emotion that Mark felt was anger； and his first words expressed it。 They came in a voice that trembled a little with his resentment； and it was not even the taking of the Sword that made him angry。
〃You are my father。 So my mother has told me。〃
The Emperor gave no sign of feeling any anger in response to Mark's。 He only looked Mark up and down and smiled a little； as if he were basically pleased with what he saw。 Then he said： 〃She told you truly； Mark。 You are my son。〃
〃Return my Sword。 I need it； and my troops need me。〃
〃Presently； they are managing without you at the moment。〃
Mark started to get down from his riding beast； meaning to confront the other even more closely。 But at the last moment he decided to hold on to whatever advantage remaining mounted might afford him … even though he suspected that would be none at all。
He accused the seated man again。 〃It was a long time afterward； my mother said； before she realized who you really were。 Not until after I was born。 You were masked； when you took her。 For a while she thought you were Duke Fraktin； that bastard。 Playing tricks； like a。。。 why did you do that to her？ And to my father？〃
Mark heard his own voice