Lord Carrick stood above it all on a balcony, looking on with apparent indifference as the guards carried Renard up the wood of the gallows steps.

Renard the thief, he said, as Renard reached the top. You stand before me having stolen from me. You will pay for that.

Beheading, my lord? Renard shot back. Thats hardly very original.

Eventually beheading, Lord Carrick replied. First, my man shall cut away your fingers. Then your hands. Then your feet. He will continue, until you are in sufficiently small pieces for everyone who had gold from you to have a part of you. Then, if you still breathe, you will be beheaded.

Ah, Renard said.

Do you have anything left to say for yourself? Lord Carrick asked. Would you like to beg for clemency? People sometimes do.

Does it do them any good? Renard asked. Lord Carricks expression told him the answer. Then I would simply like to say that while there are many things in my life I suppose I should regret, robbing you blind was not one of them, my lord.

There, that sounded suitably pithy, and it did a good job of masking the raw terror running inside him too. He had to find a way of getting out of here, had to find a way clear.

Of course, he could have been clear by now if only hed taken the Hidden up on their offer, but some things were worse even than being carved up like a side of beef. They could do things to a man that would make a horrific death seem pleasant by comparison.

Although Renard had to admit that it seemed more than bad enough right now.

An honorable man would have marched to the block. A hero would have set his hand down on it and dared the executioner to do his worst, giving the common folk something to remember this day, something to inspire them.

Since Renard was neither of those things, he fought the whole way, so that the guards had to tie him to the block with length after length of crude rope while he bit and elbowed and kneed. Eventually though, there wasnt enough movement left in him to fight longer. There was only the executioner standing over him with that axe.

Begin, Lord Carrick commanded.

The executioner raised his axe. It seemed to happen impossibly slowly, and for a moment, Renard wondered if it was some trick of his mind, slowing down these last moments, giving him at least the illusion of time in which to act even if there was none.

After several seconds of it, though, he realized that the man really was moving that slowly. He ground to a halt, then his axe went clattering onto the floor as he froze in place, ringing out in a tumble of metal.

Three hooded figures stepped out from the crowd.