She is a strange child； Simon。〃 Indeed； the nearly expressionless child's face that spoke the words did seem somehow different than that of any other mortal child。 There was something in the eyes that saw through him； beyond him； as though he himself were insubstantial as mist。
〃Where are you？〃
〃In my house； but not long。 My fences have been thrown down and my lake is jull of dark things。 The powers at my door are too strong。 Rather than stand against such gale winds； I will flee to fight another day。
〃What I have to tell you is this： Naglimund is fallen。 Elias has won the day…but the real victor is He of whom we both know； the dark one in the north。 Josua； however； is alive。〃
Simon felt a chilly twist of fear in his stomach。 〃And Miriamele？〃
〃She who was Marya…and also Malachias？ I know only that she is gone from Naglimund： more than that； friendly eyes and ears cannot tell me。 Now I must say something else： you must remember it and think of it； since Binabik of Yiqanuc has closed himself to me。 You must go to the Stone of Farewell。 That is the only place of safety from the growing storm…safety for a little while； anyway。 Go to the Stone of Farewell。〃
〃What？ Where is this stone？〃 Naglimund fallen？ Simon felt despair settle into his heart。 Then all was truly lost。 〃Where is the stone； Geloe？〃
Without warning a black wave crashed through him； sudden as a blow from a giant hand。 The little girl's face disappeared； leaving only a gray void。 Geloe's parting words floated in his head。
〃It is the only place of safety 。 。 。 Flee！ 。 。 。 the storm is ing 。。。〃
The gray slid away； like waves receding down a beach。
He found himself staring into the shimmering； transparent yellow light of a pool of blazing oil。 He was on his knees in the cavern of Chidsik ub Lingit。 Haestan's fearful face was bent close to his。
〃What devils ye； lad？〃 the guardsman asked； supporting Simon's heavy head with a shoulder as he helped him up onto a stool。 Simon felt as though his body were made of rags and green twigs。
〃Geloe said 。。。 she said a storm 。 。 。 and the Stone of Farewell。 We must go to the Stone of Fare 。。。〃 Simon trailed off； looking up to see Binabik kneeling before the dais。 〃What's Binabik doing？〃 he asked。
〃Waitin' th' word；〃 Haestan said gruffly。 〃When y'fell swoonin'； he said would fight no longer。 Spoke t'king an' queen some while； now he be waitin'。〃
〃But that's not right！〃 Simon tried to rise； but his legs buckled beneath him。 His head hummed like an iron pot struck by a hammer。 〃Not。。。 right。〃
〃 'Tis th' will o' God；〃 Haestan murmured unhappily。
Uammannaq turned from a whispered colloquy with his wife to stare at the kneeling Binabik。 He said something in the guttural Qanuc…tongue that sent a windy moan through the spectators。 The Herder lifted his hands to his face； slowly covering his eyes in a stylized gesture。 The Huntress solemnly repeated the gesture。 Simon felt a chill descend； heavier and bleaker even than winter's cold。 He knew beyond doubt that his friend had been given a judgment of death。
4
A Bowl
of Calamint Tea
SUNLIGHT filtered through the swollen clouds； falling mutedly on a great party of horses and armored men riding up Main Row toward the Hayholt。 The light of their bright banners was dulled by uneven shadow； and the click of the horse's hooves died in the muddy road； as though the brave army rode silently along the bottom of the ocean。 Many of the soldiers held their eyes downcast。 Others peered out from the shadow of their helms like men who feared to be recognized。
Not all appeared so dismayed。 Earl Fengbald； soon to be a duke； rode at the head of the king's party beneath Ellas' green and sable dragon…banner and his own silver falcon。 Fengbald's long black hair spilled down his back； held only by a scarlet band knotted around his temples。 He smiled and waved a gauntleted fist in the air； eliciting cheers from the several hundred spectators lining the roadway。
Riding close behind； Guthwulf of Utanyeat restrained a scowl。 He； too； held an earl's title…and supposedly the king's favor…but he knew beyond doubt that the siege of Naghmund had changed everything。
He had always envisioned the day when his old rade Elias would reign as king and Guthwulf would stand at his side。 Well； Elias was king now； but somehow the rest of the story had gone wrong。 Only a fat…headed young idiot like Fengbald could be either too ignorant to notice。。。 or too ambitious to let it bother him。
Guthwulf had shorn his graying hair close to his head before the siege had started。 Now his helmet fit loosely。 Even chough he was a strong man still in the prime of his health； he felt almost as though he were shrinking away inside of his armor； being smaller and smaller。
Was he the only one uneasy； he wondered？ Perhaps he had grown soft and womanish in his too many years away from the field of battle。
But that could not be true。 It was true that during the siege a fortnight ago his heart had beaten very swiftly； but that had been the racing pulse of exhilaration； not of fear。 He had laughed as his enemies had swept down upon him。 He had broken a man's back with a single blow of his longsword； and taken blows in turn without losing his scat； handling his mount as well as he had twenty years ago…better； if anything。 No； he had not grown soft。 Not that way。
He also knew that he was not the only soul who felt a gnawing disquietude。 Though crowds stood by cheering； most of them were young bravos and drunkards from the town。 A goodly number of the windows facing Erchester's Main Row were shuttered； more than a few others showed only a stripe of darkness； out of which peered those citizens who did not care to e down and cheer the king。
Guthwulf turned his head to look for Elias； then experienced an unsettling chill when he discovered the king was already staring at him…a rapt； green stare。 Almost against his will。 Guthwulf nodded his head。 The king stiffly returned the gesture； then looked sourly out on the weling folk of Erchester。 Elias； feeling the pains of some undisclosed but minor illness； had only left his tented wagon to climb atop his black charger a furlong or so before their arrival at the city gate。 Nevertheless； he was riding well； concealing any disfort he might feel。 The king was thinner than he had been in some years； the firm line of his jaw could be seen quite plainly。 Except for his pale skin…not as obvious in the blotchy afternoon light as it sometimes was…and the distracted glare of his eyes； Elias looked slender and strong； as befitted a warrior king returning in triumph from a successful siege。
Guthwulf stole a worried glance at the double…guarded gray sword bumping in its scabbard against the king's hip。 Cursed thing！ How he wished that Elias would throw the damned blade down a well。 There was something wrong about it； Guthwulf knew that beyond question。 Some among the crowd obviously felt the uneasiness the blade engendered as well； but only Guthwulf had been in Sorrow's presence often enough to recognize the true source of their distress。
And the sword was not the only thing troubling the people of Erchester。 Just as the mounted king of the afternoon had been a sick man in a wagon at mid…moming； so also had the breaking of Naglimund been something less than a glorious victory over a usurping brother。 Guthwulf knew that even far from the scene； the citizens of Erchester and the Hayholt had e to hear something about the odd； terrible fate of Josua's castle and people。 Even if they had not； the faintly sickened expressions and bowed posture of what should be an exulting； victorious army proclaimed that all was not as it should be。
It was more than shame； Guthwulf thought； and it was more than just feeling unmanned…for him as well as for the soldiers。 It was fear they felt and could not quite hide。 Was the king mad？ Had he brought evil down on them all？ God did not fear a fight； the earl knew； or a little blood…in such ink were His intentions written； a philosopher had once said。 But； Usires curse it； this was different； was it not？
He sneaked another look at the king； his stomac