'Why should you not?'

She laughed then and his hand shot out to grab her arm, dragging her to him. 'You bitch!' he hissed. In his eyes she saw insanity, the deadly madness of the beserker.

'Take your hand off me,' she said, fighting for calm.

'Why? I like to smell your fear.' He crushed her to him, holding her arms tight against her side. His face pushed against hers and she felt his breath against her cheek.

'I thought you said you were no rapist,' she whispered.

He groaned as he released her, pushing her from him.

'You make my head swim, woman. Your every movement, every look, urges me to take you – you want me, I know you do.'

'You misread me, Durmast. I want nothing to do with you.'

'Don't give me that! Women like you don't stay long without a man. I know what you need.'

'You know nothing; you are an animal.'

'You think Waylander is different? He and I are two sides of the same coin. We are killers. Why should you lust for one and not the other?'

'Lust?' she sneered. 'That's what you'll never understand. Lust has little to do with it. I love him as a man and I want to be with him. I want to talk to him, to touch him.'

'But not me?'

'Who could love you, Durmast?' she snapped. 'You are obsessed with yourself. You think you fooled me with your talk of helping Waylander? You want the Armour yourself and you'll sell it to the highest bidder.'

'So sure, are you?'

'Of course I am sure, I know you – you are physically strong, but morally you're less than a sewer rat.'

He moved towards her and she froze, realising she had gone too far, said too much. But he laid no hand upon her. Instead he smiled and his eyes cleared, humour replacing the malicious glint.

'Very well, Danyal, I'll admit to you: I do intend to sell the Armour to the highest bidder. And that will be Kaem and the Vagrians. I also intend to kill Waylander and collect the bounty. Now what will you do?'

Her hand flashed towards his face, the silver steel dagger clenched in her fist, but his arm snaked out to rap her wrist. The knife flew from her fingers.

'You can't kill me, Danyal,' he whispered. 'Waylander himself would find that difficult – and you are but an able student. You'll have to find another way.'

'To do what?' she asked, rubbing her numbed wrist.

'To outbid Kaem.'

Understanding struck her like a blow. 'You despicable swine. You wretch!'

He nodded. 'What is your offer?'

'You want me that badly?'

'Yes, I want you, woman. I always have, ever since watching you and Waylander make love in the hills above Delnoch.'

'And what will you give me, Durmast?'

'I'll let Waylander keep the Armour. And I won't try to kill him.'

'I agree,' she said softly.

'I thought you would,' he replied, reaching for her.

'Wait!' she commanded and this time he froze, for there was in her eyes a look of triumph. 'I agree to your terms, and I will pay you when Waylander rides away with the Armour. You and I will remain at Raboas.'

'You are asking for a lot of trust, Danyal.'

'Well, unlike you, Durmast, I can be trusted.'

He nodded. 'I think you can,' he asserted and moved away into the darkness.

Alone at last, the enormity of her promise swept over her.

Dundas, Gellan and Dardalion waited in the outer sitting-room while the surgeon, Evris, tended the now unconscious Karnak. Gellan, still filthy from his days in the tunnel, sat slumped in a wide leather chair, seeming frail without his armour. Dundas paced the room from window to bedchamber door, occasionally stopping to listen as if to hear the surgeon's work. Dardalion sat silently, fighting off the urge to sleep; he could feel the tension in the two men and he relaxed his mind to flow with theirs.

He merged with Gellan, feeling first the man's inner strength – a power stretched to its limits and threatened by doubt. This was a good man, Dardalion knew, and the suffering among the men hurt him cruelly. He was thinking of Karnak and praying for his recovery, fearing some internal injury that would yet rob the Drenai of hope. He was thinking also of the wall and the dreadful toll it took daily.

Then Dardalion withdrew from Gellan and merged with the tall, blond Dundas. He too was praying for Karnak, but not only for friendship. The weight of responsibility towered over Dundas like a mountain. If Karnak should die he would lose not only his greatest friend, but would have to bear the full awesome responsibility for the defence. And here was a terrible quandary. The wall could not be held, but to retreat meant to doom a thousand wounded men. Dundas could picture the scene: the defenders watching from the transient safety of the Keep as the wounded were dragged out and slain before their eyes. Dundas was a soldier, and a good one, but he was also revered by the men for his natural kindness and understanding. As a man, these were qualities to be admired. As a warrior, they were weaknesses to be exploited.

Dardalion fell back on his own thoughts. He was no military man, no planner. What would he do, assuming the choice was laid at his door?

Fall back?

Hold?

He shook his head, as if to push the thoughts from him. He was tired and the effort of holding the shield over Waylander sapped him more by the hour. He closed his eyes and reached out, tasting the despair that permeated the fortress. The Brotherhood were everywhere: four men so far had committed suicide, while two others had been caught trying to open a blocked postern gate high on the north wall.

The bedchamber door opened and Evris came out, wiping his hands on a linen towel. Gellan surged to his feet, but the surgeon lifted his hands and said quietly, 'It's all right. He is resting.'

'What of his injuries?' asked Gellan.

'As far as I can tell, he has lost the sight of his left eye. But nothing more. Heavy bruising, maybe a cracked rib or two. He is passing no blood. His bulk saved him.'

Evris left the room to tend the other wounded and Dundas sank into a chair by an oval writing table.

'One bright ray of hope,' he said. 'Now if Egel were to arrive tomorrow with fifty thousand men, I would believe in miracles.'

'One miracle at a time suits me,' said Gellan. 'But we must make a decision – the wall cannot hold.'

'You think we should pull back?' asked Dundas.

'I think we must.'

'But the wounded …'

'I know.'

Dundas swore bitterly, then chuckled without humour. 'You know, I always wanted to be a general – a First Gan with a cavalry wing under my command. You know why? So that I could have a white horse and a red velvet cloak. Gods, I think I know how poor Degas felt!'

Gellan leaned back and closed his eyes. Dardalion watched the two men for a moment, then spoke. '-Wait for Karnak – let him make the decision,' he advised softly.

Gellan's eyes snapped open. 'Wouldn't that be easy? Hard decisions to make, so load them on the broadest shoulders. We are running short on arrows – if they're not flown already. There is no meat, the bread is maggoty, the cheese green with mould. The men are exhausted and some of them are fighting in a trance.'

'It is almost as hard for the Vagrians, Gellan,' said Dardalion. 'They may have the strength, but they are running short of food and disease is in their camp. They may have stopped Ironlatch in the south, but at great cost. They are stretched thin, and only two months from winter.'

'We do not have two months,' said Dundas. 'Once they take Purdol, they can sweep along the Delnoch range and down through Skoda to circle Ironlatch. Winter won't mean a damn then.'

'I have walked these walls,' said Dardalion, 'but not in the way you have. You see men at war. But I have walked the walls in spirit and I have felt the strength there. Do not be too sure of failure.'