The company mopped up the remaining squads of Minglers. Damon joined them cutting down a handful of confused drones, when the battlefield was clear of living Minglers he ordered a roll call. He inspected the men and their wounds with Doc McKinley. Three men were stabbed clean through, four had deep slashes, one man was missing a hand, Merrill was dead, so was Murray. Damon found Murray, half eaten his head six paces from his body. Damon picked up the head and set it beside its owner. Merrill was cut in half but had escaped the indignity of being eaten. Damon gave orders for them to be burned with Farnsworth at sunset.

He gave orders for the rest of the company to form for base entrance. After closing the gate, he turned the company over to McKinley, so the poor bastard could try to stitch them all back together. He found Shroeder by the mess tent. "Where is the traitor now?"

Shroeder was gulping down water from an oak cask. He poured some of it over his head it ran down his face; he used a dirty rag to wipe away patches of purple mingler juice.

"He's in his tent sir."

"Make sure he doesn't leave it."

Damon made for Samuelson's quarters. He found Samuelson lying in his hammock with a wet towel over his face. As Damon entered Samuelson tore it off and glared at him long and hard. It took a second for Samuelson to formulate his accusation. "I'll have you put in the stockades for what happened out there today."

Damon couldn't figure out if this was genuine bluster or an EIS tactic. He assumed it was a gambit something EIS called an inversion. It only worked on people who were highly conscientious, open minded, or full of self doubt. Right now Damon was none of those things. "You're going to have to do better than that, you ignored my orders. If we were in the Royal guards I'd be within my rights to execute you."

Samuelson spat. "The minglers have been watching us for two days, they've been monitoring our every movement, to keep us out there running meaningless drills when an ambush was obvious is either incompetence or treachery."

Damon couldn't help laughing out loud. He was beginning to think this man was being sincere. "You are confined to this tent. If you step outside these flaps, you're a dead man." He turned and exited with practiced EIS precision.

He approached the tent of the Scions order looking for Ingrid, before he could get near; she intercepted him just as she had the night before. He looked her over, her white robes were immaculate. She looked like she was bored, like having a masher almost destroy the structure was beneath her notice. He cleared his throat. "What did your dear scion have to say? Will she have dinner with me?"

Her almond eyes flashed. "She will meet with you when the sun goes down."

"That's the first scrap of good news I've had all day. I need to ask you for another favor. What exactly are the parameters of your mission?"

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"We protect the structure and maintain the scions fire."

"If the structure is under attack are you permitted to kill creepers?"

"Yes."

"What if a creeper is inside the structure would you be permitted to help us to kill it?"

"Yes of course."

"All right then follow me."

"I was under the impression that the attack was over."

"Not quite."

Ingrid almost looked intrigued. "Very well, but right now I'm not in the mood for any bullshit."

Damon understood her completely. He walked down the center of the tent village and called for Shroeder to fetch cuffs and chains.

Shroeder saluted and opened a chest near the medical tent. Damon took a crossbow from the armory and wound it. Shroeder came back draped in arm and leg restraints. They all entered Blain's tent with Damon in the lead holding the crossbow out with his left hand. Damon pointed the crossbow at Blain's forehead. "It's been one hell of a day don't you agree?"

Blain licked his lips. "What is this about? Shouldn't you be arresting Samuelson. What have I done?"

Damon nodded to Shroeder and the man began to cuff Blain's wrists and then his legs. When the restraints were tight Shroeder stepped back and stood at the ready. Damon looked down at Blains boots. "Those ridiculous Vinton boots. The long tip prints were all over Farnsworth's room." Damon looked to Ingrid." What are the two most common distinguishing features of a person overtaken by the graven?"

"They don't eat, and they're sex organs dry up."

"This man hasn't eaten since I got here. Will you check him for the other?"

"That's why you asked me here?" She spat and grabbed for Blain's crotch. She patted around in disgust then jumped back holding a dagger that slid from her sleeve.

Blain stared down the sights of the crossbow. "Do you think you can pull the trigger fast enough to stop me?"

Damon raised the dagger in his right hand and placed it at the things belly. "One way or another you won't be leaving this tent."

Blain's lip twisted up into a parody of a smile.

The chains that bound his wrist grew taut then Blain's face showed some signs of strain. The links in the chain started to stretch apart where the blacksmith had soldered them. Damon fired the crossbow, the bolt slid right into Blain's skull. Blain closed his eyes then opened them wide hissing at him between his teeth. Damon sunk his dagger deep into the things belly where the graven's parasitic heart grew. Blain opened his mouth wide then the ankle restraints snapped. Damon pulled his dagger free and started stabbing out over and over. He heard a shriek and Ingrid was beside him doing the same.

Damon saw a bright light and then blackness. He fell backwards. It felt like his skull had been crushed. He saw Ingrid thrown into the tent and then the canvas walls collapsed. He cut his way out and saw Blain running for the gate, his hands unbound. Damon went after him calling for base alarm. Blain knocked aside two of the scions order and cut the juice to the gate; he pulled it open and was ready to start off across the meadow. Damon smashed into him driving him into the fence. Blain grabbed him by the chin and started to twist his head, Damon could feel the muscles in his neck giving way he prepared himself for the sound of his vertebrae snapping. He tried to push away. He stuck his finger into Blain's eye. He slipped it behind the ball. Damon felt his men piling on, dragging him free. Galadriel, stood over him, then he dropped down beside him his body limp. The gate was still wide open. Blain streaked across the meadow with Mickelson and his squad in pursuit. Damon could hardly speak, but he motioned to Shroeder and pulled the man's ear down to his lips. Only then could he manage to give the order to call off pursuit.