“No,” Elis said. The Pargunese lords glanced at her, and took their hands off their swords. “It is the only way to settle it: man to man.”

“They can kill each other if they want, but not on my land,” Kieri said. “Dammit—I paid too much for a chance at peace to lose it for a brawl in a tavern!” The Pargunese king had the upper hand now and was throttling Hafdan; Kieri strode forward, putting a hand in the king’s collar. “STOP THIS!” he roared, louder than the two men together. His voice startled even him; he had not expected that, or the light that now blazed from him.

The two combatants stared at him; the king’s grip on Hafdan’s throat loosened slightly, but he was not cowed. “It is an affair of honor! Let me alone—he is a traitor; I must prove it on his body—”

“Prove it somewhere else, then,” Kieri said. “It is ill done to break guest-truce, and this landlord does not deserve to have a welter of blood on his floor. It is a Pargunese quarrel and none of mine. Get you across the river, and if you want to fight bare naked with teeth and nails, that is your business. You agreed to this parley, in hopes of a peace between our kingdoms. Bind this man, if you will, but let us not waste the time we have.”

For a moment, the room was silent, everyone motionless, Kieri’s light paling the firelight and lamps. Hafdan squinted against it. “He’s still a traitor,” the king said. He jerked his head at the other lords. “Bind him like a thief.” They came forward, one pulling a leather thong from his pocket. The king loosened his grip of Hafdan’s throat, but still straddled him.

Hafdan’s throat worked. “I thought—Einar was—right. You had—gone soft.”

“Do you try to save your life?” the king asked.

“I only say—you are not soft.”

“I am not, and Einar will find that soon enough.” The king started to rise as the Pargunese lords leaned over Hafdan to grab his arms and bind them.

In that instant, Hafdan twisted, jerked out his dagger, and stabbed the king in the side, saying, “Not soft—but steel is harder.” Before Kieri could do anything, one of the Pargunese had run a blade into Hafdan’s throat.

The king put a hand to his side. “It will kill me,” he said calmly. “But the traitor is dead.” Then, with a groan, he slid off Hafdan’s body and lay unmoving on the floor. “Tell Elis and Iolin …” But his voice trailed away.

Kieri had been stabbed so, by a poisoned blade … and Paks had healed him. But there was no paladin here, and he did not yet have the full royal magery … but what other chance was there? And the light had come, no longer flickering and uncertain, but still filling the room. Maybe …