When she had staunched Kindwind’s bleeding, and had extinguished the last taint of infection, she did not take the time to seek sustenance from the Demondim-spawn. Turning to Cabledarm’s injuries, and Latebirth’s, she found that she could answer Esmer.

“All right.” She spoke without interrupting her ministrations. “I accept that. Bringing the ur-viles here wasn’t just a way to balance the scales. They were a gift. You saved Jeremiah, even if you didn’t do it yourself. You made it possible.”

On her own, she had failed terribly. And she had seen the price that Esmer paid for his one true choice.

Remembering that she had denied Elena, she added, “As far as I’m concerned, what you’ve accomplished is practically a miracle. Maybe it’s enough to compensate for everything else.”

Esmer’s face twisted: he may have been smiling. “Then grant me an end, Wildwielder.”

In spite of her determination to continue healing, Linden nearly froze. “How?” With one sentence, Esmer restored her despair. “You can’t—” Liand and Anele were dead. Stave’s son was dead. She had killed—“You can’t expect—”

“The krill of the High Lord lies there.” Esmer tilted his head toward Jeremiah. “It will suffice to slay me. You need only pierce my heart, and I will find peace.”

Joan’s intensity no longer pulsed in the gem. Nevertheless the jewel still shone, responding to the distant theurgy of her ring.

“Damn it, Esmer!” Linden cursed so that she would not wail. Earthpower slipped from her grasp. She almost dropped her Staff. “You can’t ask me to just murder you!”

Not after she had committed such slaughter—

Among themselves, the ur-viles and Waynhim chittered incomprehensibly.

Esmer’s eyes oozed like his sores. “Then I must remain as I am, a husk of life, until the Worm devours me.”

That, Linden wanted to protest, is not my problem! Too many other injuries ached for her care. All of her companions—She should have simply turned her back on Cail’s son.

But she could not. She had butchered thousands of living creatures. He was the only one who actually needed death.

“Linden Giantfriend—” the Ironhand began like a groan. Then she stopped, unable to find words.

Suddenly Stave lifted Galt’s body aside. When he had settled his son gently on the stained ground, he rose to his feet and picked up Loric’s krill. Then he strode toward Esmer.

Without a flicker of hesitation or doubt, he drove the dagger into Esmer’s back.

Stave!

For an instant, joy broke across Esmer’s tormented features. He had time to lift his eyes to the heavens in gratitude. A heartbeat later, he vanished like dispelled smoke, leaving no sign that he had ever existed except manacles: the symbol and resolution of his compelled nature. If any hint of his spirit lingered in the air, Linden could not sense it.