"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"For desserata. For everything."

The old man didn't say anything for a moment. "You're welcome, boy," he finally answered. "I could have spent my life worse. I'm glad to be here with you."

A monk was coming for z'Acatto. Euric was coming for Cazio.

"Don't get too sentimental," Cazio said. "I'm still going to get us out of this, and then you'll feel silly."

The men were almost on them. Cazio tried to relax, so he could move quickly. He would have just an instant when the rope was slack, and he would have to use that instant well.

Euric smiled and punched him in the jaw. Cazio felt his teeth snap together, and suddenly he was choking. Just as quickly, the pressure released, and he stumbled forward, dragged by the knight who had him from behind in a wrestling hold.

"Can't kill you you yet," Euric said. "You're one of the guests of honor. I thought I would have to play your part, and I was ready, too, but then we found you." yet," Euric said. "You're one of the guests of honor. I thought I would have to play your part, and I was ready, too, but then we found you."

"What are you babbling about, you filthy sod?" Cazio snarled.

"Swordsman, Priest, and Crown," the knight said, unhelpfully. "And one who cannot die. We've got a priest, and a royal, though she doesn't know it yet, I'm afraid-and now we've got our swordsman. As for the undying-well, you've already met Hrothwulf."

"Is any of that supposed to make sense?" Cazio asked, as Euric hustled him up the mound and stood him up on a block beneath the gallows tree, then set the noose around his neck. Another man brought Caspator and stuck the blade point-first into the ground in front of him. Cazio gazed greedily at the weapon, so close and so unreachable.

Now he had a good view of all the victims nailed to the posts. He could see their faces in the firelight. Z'Acatto already hung with them, blood drizzling from his crossed palms, not more than six perechi away.

Artore was there, too-and he'd been right. It was was getting worse. Going widdershins-one by one-the monks were carefully cutting their victims open and pulling out their intestines. They stretched these to the next post and nailed them into the arms of the next victim, then cut his belly, too. As this happened, a sacritor on the mound began chanting in a language Cazio had never heard before. getting worse. Going widdershins-one by one-the monks were carefully cutting their victims open and pulling out their intestines. They stretched these to the next post and nailed them into the arms of the next victim, then cut his belly, too. As this happened, a sacritor on the mound began chanting in a language Cazio had never heard before.

Meanwhile, a new party entered the clearing, a richly dressed man and woman. The man was tall and austere, with graying mustache and beard. The woman looked younger, but it was hard to make out her features from this distance, partly because she was bound and gagged.

"There's our royal," a voice said, just near Cazio's ear. He turned and saw one of the monks step onto the block beside him and calmly place the noose on his own neck.

"I honestly never knew," Cazio distantly heard himself say. "Never. I have seen cruelty, and malice, murder, and casual mayhem. But I never in my worst dreams ever imagined such sick depravity as this."

"You don't understand," the monk said softly. "The world is dying, swordsman. The sky is cracking and soon will tumble down. And we're going to save it. You should be honored."

"If I had my sword," Cazio said, "I would show you what I honor and how."

The woman was placed on the third block. Her eyes were wild with terror.

He turned his attention back to the circle. It was half-complete, and z'Acatto's turn was coming. There was nothing Cazio could do but watch.

CHAPTER FOUR.

KHRWBH K KHRWKH.

CAZIO CLOSED HIS EYES as the knife-wielding monk stepped up to z'Acatto, but then forced them open again. If the only thing he could do for z'Acatto was to watch him die, then he would do that. So he set his teeth and promised himself he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of any more outbursts. as the knife-wielding monk stepped up to z'Acatto, but then forced them open again. If the only thing he could do for z'Acatto was to watch him die, then he would do that. So he set his teeth and promised himself he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of any more outbursts.

Z'Acatto suddenly did something really odd. He jerked his feet into the air, levering both legs out straight and kicking them as high as his head-an impressive show of agility and strength for a man his age. Then he swung them rapidly back down, slapping them into the post. His face was strangely serene, despite the pain he must have been feeling. The nails ripped through his hands as he arched forward from the force of the reversal, tumbling him to the ground. He bounded up immediately, driving his bloody right hand into the monk's throat. The fellow dropped the knife, and z'Acatto immediately scooped it up, then sprinted toward Cazio.

Almost everyone else was watching the invoker, so that his mestro had closed more than half the distance before a shout of alarm went up. The monk next to Cazio wasn't bound, since he was a volunteer, and he quickly reached to extricate himself from the rope around his neck. But with a muffled cry Cazio tucked his chin against the noose, pulled his legs up, and kicked him with both feet. His own noose went instantly tight, though, and suddenly he couldn't breathe as both his block and the one the monk perched on toppled away.

Black butterflies began to flutter in his vision, as the rope turned him forward again and he saw z'Acatto getting up from the ground. The long black shaft of an arrow stood quivering from the older man's back and he was cursing steadily and inventively. He scrambled up the mound as another hail of arrows fell around him. He was hit again, this time in the calf, but he did not fall.

Another turn, and Cazio saw the monk, hanging like he was, but with both hands on the rope above him, trying to pull himself upward with one, and loosen the knot with the other. Z'Acatto denied him success, cutting the churchman's throat in one long slash, then with the next whip of his hand severed the rope that was just short of killing Cazio.

Cazio thudded to the ground, gasping for air. He couldn't see z'Acatto anymore, but he felt his bonds part, and with a hoarse shout he bounced to his feet and yanked Caspator from the ground. He turned to find z'Acatto with a third arrow in his ribs, his breath coming in rapid gasps, his eyes going glassy.

"Stay down, old man," Cazio told him. "I'll take care of this."

"Yes," z'Acatto wheezed. "Excellent idea."

Euric and two men-at-arms were first on Cazio's menu. They were a few perechi away, charging, meat-cleavers drawn. Cazio was a little surprised he hadn't been made a riddle by arrows, as z'Acatto had, but a quick glance around the clearing showed the archers lowering their weapons, and he smiled sardonically as he realized they wanted him alive so they could hang him.

He set his stance, slipping the noose off his neck with his off-weapon hand.

Besides their broadswords, they all wore armor, though none of them had helms. Cazio put his blade out in a line aimed at Euric's face. The knight beat at his blade to remove it, but with a twist of his fingers Cazio dipped his point beneath the searching blade, quickly changed his line, and sidestepped. Euric's momentum took him past Cazio, as Caspator's tip caught one of the men-at-arms in the throat. Using the weapon as a lever, Cazio jumped forward and to the left, turning the man to place the corpse-to-be briefly between Euric and the other warrior. This gave him shelter to withdraw the blade and set his stance again. The unfortunate fellow fell, blood bubbling from the hole in his trachea.

"Ca dola dazo lamo," Cazio forcefully informed his foes. Cazio forcefully informed his foes.

The second man-at-arms thrust past Euric, lifting his hand for a cut, perhaps forgetting they were supposed to keep Cazio alive long enough to hang. Cazio countered into the attack, a fast, straight lunge that hit the man on the underside of his wrist.

"Z'estatito," he explained as the man grunted and dropped his weapon. Euric's blade was streaking down from his right, a blow apparently meant for his leg, so Cazio caught it in an outside parry, then thrust into the eye of the man-at-arms, who was still standing there, staring uncomprehendingly at his bloody wrist. he explained as the man grunted and dropped his weapon. Euric's blade was streaking down from his right, a blow apparently meant for his leg, so Cazio caught it in an outside parry, then thrust into the eye of the man-at-arms, who was still standing there, staring uncomprehendingly at his bloody wrist.

"Zo pertumo sesso, com postro en truto."

He ducked Euric's vicious backswing, because his blade was still stuck in a skull. As he yanked it out, Euric charged inside the point, grabbing his neck and bringing the broadsword's pommel down in a vicious blow aimed at his nose. Cazio managed to turn his head so the hilt grazed along the side of it instead of striking it square, but that was still enough set the world singing. He returned the favor by striking Caspator's grip into Euric's ear, and both men fell.

Cazio scrambled up, and so did Euric. From the corner of his eye, Cazio saw three of the monks running toward him with ridiculous speed, and knew he had only a heartbeat left to act.

"You won't escape," Euric promised him.

"I'm not trying to," Cazio said.

And so-as he had practiced with z'Acatto only a few days before-he flung himself forward like a spear, his body nearly parallel to the ground. Euric's eyes went wide, and he threw his own blade up in defense, far too late. Caspator's point hit Euric's teeth with the full weight and momentum of Cazio's body behind it. They shattered, and the steel continued over the tongue and through the brain. Euric blinked, clearly puzzled by his death.

"Z'ostato," Cazio grunted. Cazio grunted.

Cazio had barely hit the ground before someone struck him from behind and caught him in a wrestling hold. It felt like an iron yoke around his neck. Then he was yanked roughly to his feet, and he found himself surrounded. One of the crowd was the fellow in the noble clothing.

"That was extraordinary," he said. "At least we can be certain that you are a true swordsman, now. But now we need a new priest and regal. My wife seems to have had an accident."

Cazio looked up at the mound and saw that the woman had somehow fallen off her perch and been hanged. He hoped he hadn't done it in the struggle.

"We have to hang you all together, you see," he said.

Cazio spat in his face. "You sacrificed your wife, you rabid dog?"

The man wiped his face without any other obvious reaction. "Oh, I would sacrifice much more than that to bring this faneway alive," he said. Then he laughed, a bit bitterly. "I suppose I will have to, actually-I don't have time to find my son, and I'm the only one here with royal blood, I think."

"No," a familiar voice called. "There is one more here with noble blood."

They all turned, and Cazio saw Anne standing at the edge of the woods. Her voice rose in a commanding tone Cazio had never heard her use.

"I am Anne Dare," she said, "daughter of the Emperor of Crotheny, Duchess of Rovy. I command you all to lay down your arms and release these people, or I swear by Saint Cer the Avenger, you will all die."

For a few heartbeats, the clearing was silent except for the crackle of flames and the moans of the dying. Then the nobleman next to Cazio uttered a single barking laugh.

"You!" he said. "I've been looking all over for you, you know. All over. Slaughtered an entire coven to find you. My men told me you were dead-and now you walk right into my arms. Outstanding. Come here, girl, and give us a kiss."

"You will not mock me," Anne said steadily. "You will not."

"I think I will," the man replied.

Anne stepped steadily nearer to the man. "You are Roderick's father," she said. A part of her was trembling with fear, but that part of her seemed to be sinking away, melting like snow in spring. "Of course. Roderick's father and his Hansan knights. And why did you chase me over the great wide world, Duke of Dunmrogh? What fear was in you that made you do that?"

"No fear," the Duke said. "I was doing what my lord commanded."

"Which lord is that? Which lord commanded my death?"

"How foolish of you to think I would ever name him," Dunmrogh said.

"Foolish is the man who does not ask what his lord fears of a single girl," Anne spat. She felt, suddenly, the sickness around her, a pulsing fever in the very earth itself, and something turning slowly in the dirt, opening one eye. It was like that day with Austra, in the city of the dead, when they had escaped the knights, but stronger. She took a breath and felt herself expand with it. "He only fears a queen in Eslen," Dunmrogh said, suddenly sounding the slightest bit uncertain.

"No," Anne whispered. "Like all men, he fears the dark of the moon." She took another breath and felt it turn as black and thick as oil in her lungs.

"Hang her," Dunmrogh said.

She let the breath out-and out out, feeling the Worm pull up through her feet and flow through her. Dunmrogh screamed like an hysterical infant, but she did not stop with him.

She sent it on-through the monks, through the men in armor, shuddering, hearing herself laugh as if she were mad.

Dunmrogh bent double and vomited blood. Some of the monks started toward her, but it was as if they were moving against a wind too hard to overcome. She spared Cazio and the fading z'Acatto, but every other man was her slave, bowing to her power.

Except one. One man was still coming for her; the knight, the one who had cut Sir Neil. Her will sleeted through him as if he wasn't there, and the Worm would not know him. He quickened his pace, drawing his sword. She was dimly aware of Cazio trying to stand, raising his own weapon.

Then something in her twisted and diminished, and she felt as if she were falling. The last thing she saw was the knight, charging to take her head.

Cazio saw Anne fall, even as the knight came into striking range. He wasn't sure what had happened, wasn't sure he wanted to know. The only thing he knew was that he was free, and Caspator was in his hand, and there was an enemy in front of him.

Unfortunately, this one had his helm on, and his sword was the weird, flickering, glowing one he'd seen shear through plate armor in z'Espino.

Cazio thrust into the knight's downward cut, parrying and attacking with the same movement, but his blade scratched only the steel of a breastplate. The knight reversed, slicing back up from the downswing, trying to split Cazio from crotch to shoulder, but Cazio was already moving aside and punching his hilt into the knight's visor, trying to knock it off.

His adversary whirled and his weapon soughed a third time, and though Cazio managed to get Caspator up to meet it, the force was square on, right on the strong part of his blade, and his knees buckled from the strength of it. The knight's mailed foot came up and kicked him under the chin, and the bright smell of blood exploded in his nostrils as he flopped onto his back.

The knight turned away, ignoring him, moving back toward the prostrate figure of Anne. Cazio struggled to his feet, knowing he would never make it in time.

Then two arrows spanged into the armored man, and he staggered. Cazio looked in the direction the shots had come from and saw a man on a horse charging toward them. The arrows hadn't come from him-he carried a sword in one hand and a wooden shield in the other. They came from another pair-a slight, hooded figure and a rangy-looking man in a leather cuirass.

Cazio tried to use Caspator to push himself up and noticed, with a shock, that the strong part of his blade had been notched halfway through by the weird knight's weapon. Caspator was made from Belbaina steel, the strongest in the world.

The nauschalk was stooping toward Anne's motionless body when Aspar's and Leshya's arrows found him. The pause gave Neil just the time he needed to reach him. He cut hard with Cuenslec, and felt the solid, satisfying shock run up his arm. He didn't understand why the rest of the men in the clearing weren't fighting, or even on their feet, but he wasn't going to question it. Some of them were starting to get up, anyway, and when they did, he and his newfound companions would be very much outnumbered.

His horse reared and shied, so Neil quickly dismounted, facing the knight as he rose back up, wielding the arcane blade.

"They say Virgenya Dare's warriors had weapons like that," Neil said. "Feyswords. Weapons for heroes, weapons to fight evil. I don't know where you got that, but I do do know you aren't fit to carry it." know you aren't fit to carry it."

The nauschalk pushed up his visor. His face was pale and pink-cheeked, and his eyes were as gray as sea waves.

"You," he murmured, almost as if in a dream. "I've killed you once, haven't I?"

"Only almost," Neil replied. He lifted his shield. "But by Saint Fren and Saint Fendve, this time I I will die or will die or you you will." will."

"I cannot die," the man said. "Do you understand? I can't."

"Forgive me if I'll not take your word for that," Neil replied. All along he'd been shuffling forward, finding his distance. Now he slowly began to circle, his gaze fixed on the eyes of the nauschalk, a red fire kindling in his belly as the rage began.

Then the nauschalk blinked, and in that instant Neil attacked, leaping forward and cutting over the shield. His enemy replied with a swift thrust from a stiffened arm to Neil's shield, a good fighter's instinct, for it should have stopped Neil's attack by keeping him at sword's length.

But the feysword sliced through the shield just above Neil's arm. He still had to arrest his blow to keep from impaling his face on the glowing weapon, but he twisted the shield down, taking the stuck feysword with it, and chopped a second time. Cuenslec rang against the armored joint of neck and shoulder, and Neil felt the chain links part. The visor clanged down with the force of his blow, and once again Neil's enemy had no face.

He dropped the shield before his opponent could carve the deadly blade through his arm and drew back for another blow, but the feysword whirled up too quickly. Neil let the assault come but faded back from it, so the attack missed him by the breadth of a hair. Then he made his own counterattack.

He had reckoned on the knight having to recover the momentum of his attack before making the backswing, but he'd reckoned wrong. The weapon must have weighed almost nothing, because here it came, shearing up into his attack. Only by scrambling quickly back did he avoid being gut-sawed.

Neil's breath was coming raggedly already, for he was still weak from his last fight with the fellow.

The nauschalk, seemingly not tired at all, advanced.

"What's happening here, Stephen?" Aspar asked as he got Ogre still and took aim at a monk. The churchman had been down on the ground when they arrived, and was now rising shakily to his feet. Aspar let fly. The fellow never saw his death coming; an almost motionless target, the arrow took him in the heart and he sank back to his knees.

Around the clearing, more and more of the formerly motionless figures were rising again. Aspar aimed at the most active.