his back, and not till the end, when the Grand Master himself fought close, did he draw steel over his shoulder.
He said one word, and his guards parted to let the man through. The Yendri vaulted forward, pipe to his lips, sending his poisoned dart flying. One blade cut the dart out of the air; its backstroke cut the pipe from his hands. Then he disappeared under a tackle pile of guards, as he screamed at the dark man.
And then it was over, and the field was silent.
Willowspear left the gallery. They heard him being quietly sick in the corridor.
Nobody said anything.
There came a wind off the field. It brought the groans of the wounded, though only the armored fighters; none of the Yendri were left alive to cry for help, save their leader. The survivors were stepping carefully across the devastation. Near the Adamant Wall lay the boy who would have been sacrificed. He had died fighting, his blood spilt to no purpose, his holy destiny unfulfilled. Was his death cleaner?
The man in black was giving orders, in a low voice, and stretchers were being made and his guard were moving out to collect the living. But they kept well away from the white stag, which was still bounding and trampling like a mad thing, tossing the dead on its antlers. It clattered all the way to the Adamant Wall, and collided with it; danced back, snorted its rage, and stamped.
The solitary figure with the staff had been making his way to the Wall also. He came to it and extended his hand cautiously, stopping just short of the surface. Ignoring the stag, he looked up at the gallery.
He had a long plain face, austere and dignified. He looked more like a high priest than a warrior, and his eyes were sad.
“Svnae,” he called.
The stag noticed him. It threw its head up in surprise, rearing on its hind legs. They lengthened, the antlers shrank and vanished, its whole body altered; and Lord Eyrdway strode along the perimeter of the Wall.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Mother sent me,” said the other. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m being Daddy’s herald.”
“I didn’t hear you offering terms.” The other gestured at the mounded dead.
“I didn’t bother. But the fight’s over, so you can turn right around and go back home.”
“Are you at all concerned with how our sister fares?”
“You’ll observe that neither one of them has deigned to notice me,” Lord Ermenwyr remarked to Smith.
“She’s fine,” said Lord Eyrdway. He turned, waved at Svnae, turned back and went on, “I know what you’re really here for, you know. You won’t get it. Not if Daddy wants it.”
The plain man looked up at the gallery again. “Svnae, let me through. I must speak with you.”
“Who’s that?” Smith inquired.
“That’s our brother Demaledon. Demaledon is good and kind and wise and brave and clean and reverent,” muttered Lord Ermenwyr. “The only reason he isn’t a bloody monk is because he kills people once in a while. But only bad people, you may be sure.”
“You can damned well speak to me from out there!” Lady Svnae shouted, clenching her fists. “This is none of Mother’s business!”
“Yes, Svnae, it is,” said Lord Demaledon. “Mother knows why you’re here. You should have come to her for counsel first.”
“My entire life has been one long session of Mother giving me counsel,” Lady Svnae replied sullenly, “and Mother knowing exactly what I’m doing and why, and Mother always being right, and Svnae being wrong.”
“Hey, look, isn’t that, what’s his name, Smith?” said Lord Eyrdway. “The Child of the Sun? Hello, Smith!”
Lord Demaledon looked up and spotted Smith. He murmured something in a horrified tone of voice.
“Thank you for asking, I’m miraculously unharmed!” Lord Ermenwyr screamed.
Lord Eyrdway grinned at him and pulled out the corners of his mouth with two fingers, stretching his grimace a good yard wide before letting it snap back.
“Did you hear a fly buzzing, Demmy? I didn’t. But you may as well collect Svnae and her baggage and escort her home, because Daddy is taking over here. He wants the Key of Unmaking.”
“Well, he can’t have it,” Lady Svnae said, looking arch. “Not even Daddy knows everything.”
“Stop it, both of you! Svnae, why is the Child of the Sun here?” Lord Demaledon asked.
Lady Svnae flushed deeply and dropped her gaze.
“I had him brought,” she admitted. “I, er, didn’t have quite all my facts straight at the time, and I didn’t realize how dangerous it was. But we