"Ah—some memory coming back. That is well. Now listen to me. You must fight once more, fight your way through some of our lesser servants, to reach your friends. If you can do this, you may go free. Otherwise, you will die, and so will they. We will arm you in what you have won."

Before she could reply, he waved into the cell several iynisin carrying a suit of black plate armor, a black helmet crested in black horsehair, and a handsome longsword with a curious design at the crosshilts. Paks had no time to examine it. The iynisin began to fit the armor on her; she found, as always, that she could not move when the caped one commanded her to stand still. The armor had a strange feel; it made her uneasy. The helmet was even worse. As it neared her head, she felt a sudden loathing for it, and tried to duck aside. The effort was hopeless. Down over her head came the helmet, close-fitting around her ears and cheeks. She felt breathless. Someone pulled the visor down. She squinted through the eyeslit, but found that everything wavered as if seen through a blowing mist.

"I can't see!" she said.

"That's all right," the iynisi answered. His voice echoed unpleasantly in the helmet. "All down here are your enemies, yes? All are enemies. Here—take the sword." She felt the sword hilt pressed into her right hand. She hefted the blade. It felt good. "All enemies—" said the iynisi's voice, now behind her. "Go—fight—fight for your rights, Paksenarrion. Fight your enemies. Fight—"

She hardly needed that encouragement. She was walking down the corridor, away from the cell, walking alone and unguarded for the first time. At first she could barely see well enough to stay away from the walls, but then her vision cleared a little. She saw iynisin ahead of her, all running somewhere. Those who looked at her screamed, and ran faster. Behind the visor, she smiled. Soon. Soon she would show them. She was no longer helpless; now she had the power she had longed for all those dark hours. She wondered which way to go, heard a confused clangor from a wide cross passage, and turned to see what it was. A fight. A big fight. She saw the passage choked with armed figures: iynisin, orcs, others. She drew breath and stalked forward, sword ready.