Svala sat on the floor before the fire, trying not to look at the grotesque faces carved into the hearth. Slouch Hat approached with the goblet in his hands and offered it to Padric.

“It is wine,” the husk said, but Padric waved it off, nodding to Svala. Slouch Hat offered her the cup, and she took it from him, but did not drink.

“This is a fine prison,” Slouch Hat continued. “Few men have ever stood so high.”

“Any who wish to are mad,” Padric replied.

“History would agree with you,” the husk said dryly.

Padric put his back to the wall and slid down onto the ground, weary to his bones. “I have tried,” he said with his eyes closed. “Tried to fashion some means of escape, but…we are drowning.”

“You are becoming a king,” he heard Slouch Hat say. “You are referring to yourself as we.”

Padric opened his eyes and gave a tired grin. “You know my meaning.”

“I do,” Slouch Hat said, coming to sit next to him. “I have also failed.”

“I left my home,” Padric said to his outstretched feet, “looking to be a steel monger’s boy. And that seemed impossible.” He laughed.

Svala looked over at the sound, a confused look of fearful joy on her face. She seemed so small and alone sitting before that great fire in an ancient chamber at the top of the world.

“Slouch Hat,” Padric said, daring to hope. “Do you know the tongue of Middangeard?”

“Crudely,” the husk replied, than looked over at the girl. “Ah…yes. What would you like me to ask?”

“If she is hungry?”

The husk’s sack face stared at him. “There is no food up here, Padric.”

“Oh,” Padric looked around. “Right. Grand. Maybe you should tell her your name.”

“I think the closest I could manage is Soft Helm.”

Padric burst out laughing at that, perhaps longer and louder than was merited but it felt good all the same. When his eyes opened he found Svala still looking over at them, and felt a desperate need to include her.

“Fine,” Padric said. “Perfect. Tell her that.”

Slouch Hat leaned forward off the wall and spoke a few halting words, gesturing to himself. Svala’s teeth appeared when she smiled, but she quickly covered them with her hand and answered.

“She thinks it is a good name,” the husk said amiably.

Padric was encouraged. “Ask her if she is warm enough.”

Slouch Hat spoke again and Padric was pleased to see Svala nod before answering.

“Yes,” Slouch Hat translated. “She thanks you for the cloak.”

“Ask her,” Padric was searching. “Why she was afraid of the dwarrow?”

Slouch Hat looked over at him. “What?”

“During the executions,” Padric felt sheepish. “When they brought out the dwarrow…she seemed frightened. I was…worried for her.”