"Is there not?" He frowns at the hatchlings, yet after all they are a handsome looking group, not the biggest he has ever seen, but he does not have girth and breadth to give them. He has given them something more valuable. "The third leg is your brother. Two legs only, if you stand by yourself. But if you stand with others, then you cannot easily be knocked down."

caught the corner of a linen band as the tiny body struck the floor. Cloth pooled around it in loops and heaps. He swooped down and grasped at it with a gasp of dismay.

It gurgled. Its lips smacked and pumped. It squawked out a feeble Wail, then hiccuped.

Would it name itself? First Son? Fourth Child? Nay, it was a helpless human infant, doomed to many years of childhood, not ready to run and fight within a pair or three of years after its birth. It was so tiny and feeble! No wonder the Eika thought that humankind were soft.

The nurse ripped the baby out of Alain's hands, pulled down the front of her bodice, and put the baby to her breast. It rooted for a moment, then got hold and sucked.

Such an uproar ensued that he had to grab the collars of the hounds and hold them to stop them from biting as folk swarmed, yelled, cried, gesticulated. The crowd surged in and out, right and left, until Sabella's ringing voice brought order and soldiers herded companions, attendants, and courtiers out.

"This way," said Captain Lukas, appearing at his side as if he had never left. "Come now, I pray you." He said the words urgently. His frown had a storm cloud's menace. Alain went along because it was easier to and because the sight of that infant's face troubled him. So quiescent. It had seemed to hit the ground so hard, but that was God's mercy, surely: some substance had clogged its breathing and the shock had jarred it loose. Newborns were such fragile creatures. Weiwara's twins—how could he forget them? The smaller one had been born, likewise, too weak to draw breath on its own. What had happened to that baby? Had it survived the great weaving or been consumed by the tempest? Had Adica known the spell would doom those she loved? Had she gone forward despite that knowledge?

He would never know.

"Wait here," said the captain, opening a door. Alain went gratefully into a dim room and sank down onto a bench. The tears caught him by surprise. He missed Adica so badly. The hounds licked him, leaned on him, pawed at him, and at length lay down on his feet being too big to settle in his lap as they wished to do. At length he calmed, lifted his head, and measured his surroundings.