took a step toward Giter and away from the door.
At that moment of relaxation, Giter sprang for the door. Ilbran leaped to intercept him, and they fell heavily onto the floor. Ilbran landed underneath, his right arm pinned and twisted uselessly behind him. Giter’s foul breath puffed into his face. Stubby fingers pressed into the sides of his throat. His eyes caught a flicker of motion, his mother holding the heavy fire-stirrer ready to strike.
Fel sprang more surely to join the fight, fastening his teeth in Giter’s wrist. The butcher bellowed in pain and let go of Ilbran’s throat to snatch at his dagger. Ilbran tried to knock it away; it gleamed in the firelight; the courser fell away from the butcher’s arm.
Ilbran had no time to think of his own dagger. He had work enough to keep Giter’s hands from his throat again. Though he was taller than the butcher, he had not yet come into a man’s weight and strength, and Giter was far more cunning.
No chance now for Kare to act. Ilbran was tossed back and forth, on top, underneath. In their fight, they rolled nearer and nearer the door. Then Giter heaved and bucked his heavy body, and flung Ilbran free of him for one moment, long enough to bound to his feet and plunge through the door with so much force that the leather tore loose from the lower hinge.
Ilbran sprang after him, brushing the dangling door aside, but the older man was a good dozen pace ahead, shrieking, “Help! Fire! War! Help! Fire!” as people swarmed from their houses.
Andiene ran from her hiding, to stand beside Kare, her face filled with despair. “I could have helped you,” she said.
“Nothing you could have done,” Kare said.
“No, you do not understand! I could have saved you, but I was afraid. Now I must leave, or I will destroy you.”
“Where will you go?” asked Kare.
“No concern of yours,” she answered, with a gleam of her royal manner. “I would not have you die for my sake. Where did you hide my rings? I must have the one.” Kare knelt obediently and began scraping at the floor.
Ilbran pushed the door aside, stumbling back into the room. His right arm hung uselessly. “He’s gone out of my reach—too many around him—but he isn’t telling them what he knows—for fear they’ll share in the reward. He has only to go to the square, and he’ll find soldiers enough, but we can count on a little time.” He wiped the blood out of his eyes, left-handed. He staggered and clutched at the wall for support. “Maya, what are you doing?”
His mother scrabbled up the rings from the ground, for a silent answer. Andiene came forward. “This one I must have,” and she settled a strangely shaped one over her thumb, a ring all of gold, with a knob carved with curving lines in place of a stone. She looked searchingly at Hammel and Kare. “My friends and hosts, will you not leave me as much pride as you allow yourselves?”
Hammel nodded.
“Then take these two rings as gifts. I have no use for them. Strike out the gems, and throw them away, hammer the settings together and they will not betray you.”
Hammel bowed his head in silent agreement.
Andiene took the fire stirrer and struck the two jewels out of their settings. “I will throw these into the sea.”
“You cannot leave alone!” Ilbran said, his resentment suddenly forgotten. “It would be a shame on us. You know nothing of the city. You are a child. I can lead you to a hiding place … ”
“No,” she said. “I know where I am going.”
“With no food?”
“Fare you well, my friends,” she said, looking intently at them, then turning and slipping through the doorway.
“No, do not follow after her,” said Hammel. He turned to his wife. “I should never have taken you from the forest.”
Ilbran turned back from the door. There was time to run; there would be time to run for any who were young and strong and able to walk. Useless. He could not leave them.
Words came in a rush. “Sire, what should I have done?” His question went unanswered. He knelt by the courser’s side—dead with Giter’s dagger through its heart. He took the fire-stirrer, that stick of unburning wood, and brought it down on the two rings, soft gold, unalloyed, easily crushed together. He struck at them as though they were some enemy. When the job was done, and the lump