With those words Torcan turned and walked out of the longhouse.

Padric slumped to the floor where he stood, cradling his face in his bruised hands. There was nothing he could do. He had no power, no skill, no allies. All he had was a lie and he wielded it clumsily enough to get innocents killed. Slouch Hat was wrong. There would be no moment for glory. All there would be was an ugly death after helplessly witnessing days upon days of other ugly deaths.

Something brushed his knuckles. The touch was slight, trembling. He looked up and found the blonde girl crouched in front of him on the floor. Her hand floated reluctantly between them, her face ready to dart back into hiding. He reached up slowly and took her hand, wrapping it in his own, uncertain whether it was comfort she sought or meant to give. Their eyes met and Padric looked at her for the first time. Her eyes were blue and bright and he found compassion beyond the fear; a recognition of despair.

Padric could not save Hog’s Wallow. He could do nothing to warn Black Pool. Airlann would need to be saved by greater champions than he. But this woman, this one unfortunate person, her he could save. He took one hand away from hers and touched his chest.

“Padric,” he said and then gestured to her.

Her mouth worked slowly, her chin dipping slightly, coaxing the words out.

“Svala.”

“Svala,” he repeated softly and smiled. She smiled back, and he found it beautiful.

E IGHTEEN

EIGHTEEN

Backbone stood patiently while Old Lochlann loaded him down with sacks of provisions. Occasionally, he would twitch an ear or offer a slow blink, but he did not budge one hoof or voice one bay of complaint. Pocket thought he was the best mule in the world.

“Are you coming with us?” he asked Old Lochlann while handing him another bundle.

The old man shook his head. “My place is here.”

“But are you not afraid for when the goblins come?”

“Not my first siege,” Lochlann shrugged. “And if it’s my last, more’s the good. Unpleasant is a city under siege.”

“Well,” Pocket said. “I wish you were coming with us.” Just so long as someone else did the cooking.

“Sir said wither you are bound?” Lochlann asked with a grunt, cinching at the load ropes.

“No,” Pocket replied. “Only that we are leaving tonight. He wants to go when it is dark. Lady Rosheen is coming with us!”