Arvid put the tip of his sword past the corner. Nothing happened. Very slowly he eased his face to the corner. Paks waited, feeling her heart race. He drew back, and motioned her back a step. Then he spoke softly in her ear. "It goes twenty-thirty paces, then turns left. Wide enough for four fighters. Torch every four paces. Mark on floor, good for bow."

"Run it," suggested Paks.

"Only way," he agreed. "Got to be quiet and fast." Paks did not see how they could all be fast and silent, but she told the others. Ambros and another yeoman moved up beside her; she told Suli to stay in the second rank.

They started off at a quick jog, as quietly as possible. Paks saw the pale stripes on the floor, four of them, and stepped over the first. Then she heard a noise from somewhere ahead, and leaped into full speed, the others with her. Four crossbowmen appeared at the far end of the passage; the first flight of crossbow bolts whirred by. Paks heard a yelp from behind; something clicked on her helmet. Behind them four more, shooting even as the first four dropped their bows and leaped forward with shortswords in hand. Paks did not hesitate; it would be suicide to stop in that bare passage. She reached the first swordsmen before they were set in position; Arvid and Ambros were hardly behind her, and they forced the line back into the others. Now all eight defenders had dropped their bows.

Paks had never faced a shortsword formation with a longsword. She found herself fighting as if she had her Company weapon. At least they didn't have shields—she smiled as her sword went home in one of them. He folded over, to lie curled on the floor. The man behind thrust at her, and she raked his arm. She noticed that Arvid, beside her, had downed another. The first man down tried to stab at her legs; Paks edged by, and Suli got him in the throat. Paks and Arvid were one step ahead of Ambros and the yeoman. Paks was beginning to think they might get through without too much trouble when four more men appeared.

"Blast!" said Arvid. "I'd hoped this was the first wave."

Paks said nothing, fighting her way forward a step at a time. She was beginning to use the longsword more freely, with effect. Another man went down before her, and those behind seemed less eager to engage. But the noise in the passage was considerable. Ambros was yelling Girdish slogans, as was the yeoman; each had now defeated his man, and they were back in line. The clash of steel rang from the walls.

Then the torches went out as if they'd been dipped in water. Paks felt something rake across her torso; the mail held. She thrust hard ahead of her, and heard someone grunt, then sigh. She shook the weight off her blade and thrust again. Nothing.