The campaign of maneuver resumed. The failure of the parley to reach a truce, so far as they knew, did not disappoint the fairies. They did still wish to engage in an authentic battle, after all. None suspected the commanders were engaged in a campaign of deceit, though if they had, it was not at all certain they would not have approved.

  “Likely your friends have been made officers just as we have. Gentlemen, let us wander about and find their armies with your scouts.” Saying that, Medant arranged a system of signals which could be made using their banners, one of which he borrowed in a show of respect the fairies enjoyed.

  The Stalling War, as Aptezor would not be allowed by his editor to call it, succeeded beyond what might have been projected by a sober strategist. First, the scouts found Gabdirn Haubentlag at the head of his own army, though not one composed of fairies. No ogres, either. Instead the Symbol Knight wandered the lands like a hero, accompanied by two tall, disgustingly muscular men who had the fur and heads of lions. One wielded a spear the head of which was wrapped in flame while a wedge of rushing wind surrounded the other's. “Flame Lion and Gale Lion make for my favorite guests,” he explained. He had equipped himself with their symbolic weapon, a double-bladed spear of inferno and storm, the blades on opposite ends rather than next to each other like feuding neighbors in a comedy.

  He fell in with their plan as soon as he heard it and joined Taomenk in repairing to Ydridd's castle at the head of a detachment assigned to fetch a load of ropes, fetters, collars, and really just an assortment of items whose purpose the fairies had no need to know. It was silly of them to inquire at all.

  During their absence, a man appeared before the officers who was unknown to them and undetected by the scouts. Rather older than any of the officers, his dark brown hair retained its sheen and its length; it reached just past his shoulders without abandoning any positions higher up. If his words came out as somewhat slurred, Adabans often thought that about the accent of the Jingennefa, one of whom he looked to be. Not that Dirant had ever before met a member of that much-diminished tribe, but artists produced excellent resemblances. The man's coat was of the type known as a longshirt on account of being light, unadorned, and worn closed, all in contrast to the current GE style. He stooped a bit, rendering him shorter than Aptezor despite the reality that he was between the two captains in height.

  “I am Shtaugirs. Mr. Gabdirn, may I speak with him? I have his delivery.” He pointed with his right hand to a box hanging from his left, an odd way to do it in Dirant's opinion.

  “Mr. Gabdirn is on a mission. Mr. Shtaugirs, were you transported here by supernatural compulsion? The readers of the Amlizen Crier will want to know your analysis of the situation.”

  “Transported here? No, no.” Confusion afflicted Shtaugirs for a moment before he looked around the army he had somehow penetrated. “Oh. Fairies.” In those simple words he combined dismay and contempt in the exact proportions Dirant had come to believe appropriate, which startled him more than the circumstances of Shtaugirs's arrival.

  “Mr. Shtaugirs, have you encountered fairies before?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes. It was so long ago though. I thought they were all gone, yeah?” His nose wrinkled when he examined the troops again, but he said no more about fairies. “I will wait for Mr. Gabdirn. He will like his delivery. I did very well this time.”

  As predicted, Gabdirn did like his delivery. The anticipation of his wife's reaction to receiving a genuine Shtaugirs collection made him all the more eager to cooperate with the plan. Shtaugirs seemed less enthusiastic about the proposal if not apathetic, but neither did he demur.

  Medant signaled he had picked up some humans also. Another parley revealed he had been able to create his own scout corps after Aptezor's yelled at his army in passing how much fun they were having and how important the general said they were. With their assistance, some more missing persons had been found, some who reported vanishing that very day when they visited Cowsick Point on account of the recent rumors which they had failed to take seriously or to ignore, either course being wiser than the middle path.

  “There's no reason for it not to worsen,” Taomenk said, and further testimony proved him right.

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  Yet another non-fairy army approached, this one led by Millim Takki Atsa and formed from various people she had come across and in some cases rescued from ogres or other dangers. She had Miss Bodder with her, but less expectedly, Odibink Sharazilk and several tourists Dirant recognized. Odibink attested that he traveled to Cowsick Point wishing to argue with Gabdirn about something and ended up falling through the guest floor before he could even touch the marker.

  That was after a tearful reunion, of course. Takki cried to see Dirant not boiled in a witch's cauldron, Miss Bodder cried because she had escaped being boiled in a witch's cauldron, and Odibink and Gabdirn argued so intensely that they cried, too.

  “Can we hear your plan?” Takki asked once everyone finished. “Oh, you can say 'what plan' if you want and I promise I'll laugh, but I can't be persuaded you've been handed an army and haven't thought of anything enterprising to do with it.”

  Aptezor objected. “This isn't an occasion for humor, is it, Captain Dirant?”

  “I considered it.” Dirant's honest admission set Aptezor to thinking about that Ritualist article again. “That kind of cruelty to newcomers is unwarranted however.” The tourists all had a harried look about them, he had noticed, and the plotters took them aside to ease their troubled minds as quickly as was convenient.

  Medant managed to gather in Kodol and other reporters who paid more attention to the disappearances in proportion to their increasing frequency, a few bold Ividottlofers, and even a Fennizener associated with an officer on Queen Ydridd's side through mutual parentage. Medant further informed his fellow conspirators of another of their associates. “My scouts also encountered your Mr. Doltandon and Miss Gelfid. They had fairies with them. Mr. Doltandon refused my invitation and I'm too busy to run after him like a bailiff clutching a summons to some court or so.”

  That was the third parley and the last one. The number of humans began to rival that of the fairies. No third army was reported, no other generals were seen, and no indication of Mr. Hwohyesu was found. Then again, that he had been snatched to the fairy realm before them had only supposition behind it and not proof. Furthermore, it was not their duty to rescue every last person, particularly given the likelihood the fairies would give up on their war and leave once an exit existed. The armies exchanged signals.

  Aptezor's soldiers formed up, a sight which filled him with the pride of a hard task accomplished which thus far in his life nothing but his first published article equaled. The troops on the other side adopted a looser formation that was nothing but a ring around their general. The single point of discipline Medant imposed was that no fairy stand farther away from him than the approximate distance covered by the Fairy Fascination Ritual, not that he included that particular fact in his orders.

  That day the fairies learned how one-sided a battle properly managed could be. The foremost warriors met, some lion men carried a human into the center of Ava's formation, and then they were tied up. What happened between they did not quite recall. Probably they supposed the same thing happened to Medant, never realizing his perfidy, not even when in response to skepticism about how common that sort of result was in warfare the humans regaled them with volumes of similar incidents beginning with the infamous career of Nestashal Tvarnchipt. They did realize the most important thing.

  “That makes us real veterans of a real battle,” one announced, and they all declared themselves thoroughly gratified on that account.

  A workforce of fairies over a hundred strong and equipped from Queen Ydridd's extravagant tool shed dug the tunnel rapidly after a brief episode in which fairies of both armies tried to convince the humans they knew a much better place to start. Taomenk held firm to his figures however, and the humans chose to believe a celebrated engineer over a bunch of fairies completely incapable of keeping a straight face.

  “We may, I don't mean this to be taken as a promise, investigate your trap later if it has some value for scholarship,” Mr. Odibink suggested, by that mollifying the failed tricksters.

  Once underway, the endeavor absorbed the attention of the compelled laborers enough that they attempted no further mischief. As for Ydridd's troops, they made no objection to participating in the work from the beginning. They had at last lived through a complete military campaign, the fondest wish of some and an item high on the list for others. Following that up with a large-scale infrastructure project, while nowhere near as exhilarating, provided a contrast which made the day feel fuller.

  Fairies reconsidered the exhilaration part as they approached their destination. Many did not at first connect the tunneling project with the prospect of leaving the underground prison to which they had been consigned for, evidently, over two thousand five hundred years. Perhaps well over. As the tunnel grew however, not only did more and more soldiers suspect its true purpose which the humans avoided stating explicitly, but the work attracted civilian fairies who either belonged to Doltandon's work crew or had spoken to its members. Rumor spread and raised spirits wherever it passed.

  Anything would have been a disappointment except what happened, which was that the patient blue sky above the ravine welcomed the tunnelers back to the old world. The humans rejoiced, the fairies celebrated, and the euphoria of the occasion led to talk of a new holiday.