“Most of us. They make exceptions for the likes of you and me.”

“How can you go on fighting for them?”

“Because I gave Prince Ranadar my word of honor that I’d serve him. Why do you go on doing your work here?”

“Because the people I heal are sick and injured and need me.” Hwilli heard her voice begin to shake. “They’re not to blame.”

Hwilli managed to keep from weeping only through her fear of disgracing herself in front of the man she loved. He put his arms around her and drew her close to stroke her hair. At least I have him, she thought. The gods have given me that much in life. When she remembered how much she’d feared growing old, she had to suppress a mad impulse to laugh. She had wasted her fears on something that very likely would never happen.

“They’ll come here next, won’t they?” Hwilli said. “The hordes, I mean.”

“Most likely,” Rhodorix said. “I won’t lie to you.”

“You have my thanks for that. And they’ll take the fortress, won’t they?”

“Unless the gods stop them. No one else can.”

He looked oddly calm, his eyes stripped of all feeling. She realized, that night, just how completely men like him lived to die. I’ll have to be as strong as he is, she told herself, when the time comes.

In the morning, news of another sort swept through the fortress like a winter wind. The prince had decided to hold out against the Meradan as long as possible, and thus drain off men from the Meradani stampede down to the coast, in order to let Rinbaladelan reprovision and fortify. He was planning on stripping Garangbeltangim of every servant, every woman, wife or not, and every child. Even the mages and priests would leave, every single person who could not fight, but who would prove a drain on the fortress’ provisions in case of siege. They were to march east with the Mountain Folk and try to make some sort of new life for themselves in some safe place.

At first Hwilli thought little of the news. As a healer, she would stay, or so she assumed. Master Jantalaber disabused her of that delusion with the noon meal, which they ate together in the herbroom.

“You’ll be coming with me and the others, of course,” he said.

“What?” Hwilli stared at him. “No. I can’t leave Rhodorix.”

“Yes, you can, and you will. This is the last meal we’ll have in Garangbeltangim, Hwilli. Pack up your things as soon as you’re done eating.”

“No!”

“Am I your master in your craft or not? You’ll do as I say. Don’t you think I’m heartsick, too? But we have our work. We have the place of healing to build.”

“I don’t care—” Her voice choked on tears. “I’m too weak to matter to the work.”