"Who are you?" demanded the captain. "What is this?"
"I am Alfric of Aslak—" panted the newcomer.
"A barbarian—the barbarian—the outlander of the prophecy—" They hefted their weapons, eyes narrowing, mouths drawing into taut lines.
"I am with Hildaborg, against the Temple," said Alfric. "'Twas with my help she escaped their net. Now she leads all of us to overthrow her foes."
"How do we know you speak truth?" snapped the captain.
"You'll know it when I lead you out against the Temple!"
"Out—to be cut down by thrice our number? Go to!"
"They'll have more to worry about than us," said Alfric. In hard brief words, he told them the plan.
At the end of it, the tall captain clapped his shoulder and said in a voice suddenly warm: "That is a tale whose truth we can see for ourselves, when the Empress' folk come up against the Temple. So I'll believe it, for one. I am Ganimos of the Imperial Household. Welcome, Alfric of Aslak!"
The barbarian nodded, too weary for speechmaking. "Give me some water and wine and a little to eat," he said. "I'll wash, refresh myself, and be ready to go with you at the time of the uprising. If we hit the Temple from the side then, it will fall."