“Orden has my forcibles,” Raj Ahten said in answer to Binnesman’s earlier query. “I want them back!” The sound carried well over the fields. Orden could hardly believe Raj Ahten spoke from so far away.

The old wizard smiled, leaned back in his saddle, as if to rest. On the green across the field, Raj Ahten’s three remaining flameweavers stood. Each began giving their bodies to fire, so that their clothes burst into flame and tendrils flared out from them, yellow, red, and blue.

“Why is it,” Binnesman asked, “that every forcible on earth must be yours?”

“They came from my mines,” Raj Ahten said, striding forward, his face alight with seductive beauty. “My slaves dug the ore.”

“As I recall, the Sultan of Hadwar owned those mines—until you slit his throat. As for the slaves, they were someone’s sons and daughters before you took them. Even the blood metal you cannot claim—for it is only the crusty remains of your ancestors who died long ago in a great slaughter.”

“Yet I claim it as mine,” Raj Ahten said softly, “and no man can stop me.”

“By what right?” Binnesman called. “You claim the whole earth as your own, but you are a mere mortal. Must death force you to release all that you claim before you recognize that you own nothing? You own nothing. The earth nourishes you from day to day, from breath to breath! You are chained to it, as surely as your slaves are chained to the walls of your mines. Acknowledge its power over you!”

Binnesman sighed, glanced up to Orden on the castle wall. “What of it, King Orden? You strike me as a fair-minded man. Will you give these forcibles to Raj Ahten, so that you two may finish with this squabbling?” Binnesman’s eyes smiled, as if he expected Orden to laugh.

“No,” Orden said. “I’ll not give them. If he wants them, he must come against me!”

Binnesman clucked his tongue as if he were an old woman, scolding a child. “You hear, Raj Ahten? Here is a man who dares defy you. And I suspect he will win. . . .”

“He has no chance against me,” Raj Ahten said with dignity, though his face seemed livid with rage. “You lie.”

“Do I?” Binnesman asked. “For what purpose do I lie?”

“You seek to twist us all, to do your own bidding.”

“Is that how you see it? Life is precious—yours, mine, your enemy’s. I cherish life. Am I ‘twisting’ you to save your miserable life?”

Raj Ahten did not answer, but only studied Binnesman with subdued rage.

Binnesman said, “I’ve come before you twice now. I warn you one last time, Raj Ahten: Give up this foolhardy war!”

“You had best move from my way,” Raj Ahten said. “You can’t stop me.”