Parno sucked in his breath when he saw the blood-darkened arrow shaft sticking out between Thionan’s hands. She’d been surprised coming back from the gate, and not too far away, judging by how far she could walk with that shaft in her chest. And the Healer who’d fixed his arm long gone.

“Traitor’s soldiers surround the House,” she said, blood bubbling through her lips as she breathed.

“That dung eater Dal-eDal has sold us to the Shadow,” Parno said.

“No.” Thionan coughed and tried again. “Not here for Tarkin. Looking for Dhulyn.”

“They don’t know she’s at the gates with Dal?”

“Save your strength, just nod,” Fanryn said, her own teeth clenched.

Thionan nodded. Her lips formed the words “passed” and “gate.” Parno looked at the angle of the sun. This changed all their plans-and yet it couldn’t. They couldn’t leave Dhulyn and Dal-eDal to enter the Dome alone. He looked up as a shadow touched him to see Alkoryn studying his face.

“Pasillon, after all,” the Senior Brother said with a sour smile.

Parno nodded, grim-faced. “They’ll wish it was only the Sleeping God they had to worry about, when we are through,” he said. He turned back to Fanryn and Thionan. “Can you cut it out? Or can we move her?”

Fanryn shook her head. “It’s in the lung.” She turned her face toward him, though her eyes never left Thionan. “And it’s barbed.”

A war arrow, then, not the kind the City Guard would normally use on citizens. This was war, the kind of death they all expected-for many, the death they hoped for. Parno could imagine many worse ways to spend his final moments than in Dhulyn’s arms, her cheek against his forehead.

So long as it was not the other way around, he thought. Please all the Caids, demons and fates, not the other way around.

After passing through the gate in the city wall it took Dhulyn a few minutes to place her companions once again. Linn, the guard who’d eaten onions yesterday, had moved from his position behind her and slightly to the left, and was now directly behind her. His brother, Joss, whose saddle gave off a rhythmic squeak, was still directly ahead. Dal-eDal’s horse had a distinctive wheeze in its breath-nothing serious, but the horse probably shouldn’t be used for racing-and the sound placed the noble in the lead, where he should be.

Cullen, who somehow managed still to smell of mountain thyme, moved suddenly to her right.

“Disha tells me the banner does not fly from Mercenary House.”

With an effort Dhulyn kept relaxed and still. She could not risk loosening her false bonds. “Let her tell us when it does.”

“And if it should not?”

“There’s no turning back now,” Dhulyn said.

“But, Wolfshead-”

“My Brothers will reach us,” she said.

“And if they do not?”

“Then we will kill the Green Shadow ourselves.”

“Or die in the attempt.”

“Or die in the attempt,” she agreed, with a careful shrug. “It is all that is required of us.”

The sound of breaking glass took Parno on the run past Alkoryn’s deserted map room. He’d already been on his way up to shut and bar the only second-story windows that gave on the outside world, but as it was, he’d almost been too late. Sword ready in his hand, he cut with one downward motion through the hand that groped on the windowsill, wincing as the blade clanged on the stone. There went a carefully honed edge. He used the fist that was holding the hilt to push the man-screaming at the loss of his fingers-off the ladder he was standing on and took only another second to shove the ladder away from the wall as Sharan Owlclaw ran into the room behind him.

“Get those shutters,” he called, jerking his head toward the other window as he closed the ones in front of him and threw up the first of the three solid iron bars that fit horizontally across, locking the iron-reinforced shutters tight. He glanced over, saw that Sharan had her shutters closed, and felt along the baseboard for the vertical rods he knew would be there, sliding them through the bars and locking them with sharp turns before going to help Sharan.

“They’ve backed off downstairs,” she said. “Shall I watch here?”

Parno nodded, his breath a harsh rasp in his throat, and headed back down the stairs. Now that this first assault had been repulsed, he was free to think about Dhulyn, knowing she would continue to the Dome, signal or no signal. He’d known her going off on her own was a cyantrine sniffer’s dream. He hoped he would be able to tell her so.

The first person he saw when he reached the outer courtyard was Tek-aKet. The Tarkin had a streak of dirt on his face and blood on the point of his sword.

There was silence from the street outside, when Parno would have expected the shouts of the troops and the sounds of running feet. It reminded him of that day in early spring, when he and Dhulyn had found the crowd watching the Finder’s home burn down with the children inside.

“It’s so quiet,” Tek-aKet said, coming up to Parno as he entered the courtyard. “Everyone is so quiet.”

Parno knew who “everyone” was to the Tarkin. “We’re killers, Tek,” is what he answered. “We’re trained to be quiet.” Though that didn’t account for the silence outside the gate.

“Parno,” the Tarkin said. “If we delay much longer, they’ll be in the Dome without us.”

“I know, Tek, I know. Just a few minutes more.”

Parno’s searching eyes froze on the spot where the plum tree in its pot had shed some late blossoms over Fanryn, still sitting with Thionan in her arms. Alkoryn, his sword in one hand, stood over them.

“Lionsmane.” Tek’s voice brought Parno around with a jerk.

“Sorry,” he said. He sheathed his own blade and went to Alkoryn. “Time for everyone to get into the tunnels.”

“Not everyone,” Alkoryn croaked. “I will not leave my House.” At Tek-aKet’s protesting noise, Alkoryn raised his hand and glanced behind him at the Brothers under the plum tree. “They will not move, and how could I leave them? Besides,” the old man shrugged. “If Lok-iKol’s men find the place empty, they will look for the tunnels. Barlen and Noshun will stay, Sharan has asked to remain also, that the rest of you may escape.”

“This is the second time people will die in order for me to escape.” Tek’s voice was calm, level. “I don’t like it.”

“Your time will come another day,” Alkoryn said, turning away.

“In Battle or in Death,” Parno said, knowing from the Senior Brother’s tone that it would be useless to argue. This was the end the old man sought. He hugged his Brother to him with one arm, kissed an oblivious Fanryn on the forehead, and touched Thionan’s hot cheek.

“We’re to the tunnels, then. Any who do not stay, send them after us.” He clapped for the attention of the Brothers in the courtyard and signaled to those who’d been assigned to go with him. The rest he would leave in Alkoryn’s hands.