Rudi knew he was very strong. Frederick Thurston was a grown man in armor; to snatch him off the ground from horseback, and that at the gallop, was something he'd have thought beyond his reach. Now he did it, though every tendon from his right hand to his hips seemed outlined in blue fire for an instant. Then he was through; the young man he'd rescued from his brother seemed sensible enough to lie quiet across Epona's saddlebow for an instant.

As he circled around the rest of his companions gathered about him; the edge of battle was passing westward again, and the fight breaking up into clumps of men who hacked at one another or fled.

"We have to get out of here," he said bluntly, letting the young man slide to the ground. "Martin Thurston killed his father-"

"What?" Mathilda said, eyes wide.

"It's true," Frederick Thurston said, his voice shaking. "I saw it

… he was wounded… Martin killed him…"

"There's no time," Rudi said. "He'll want us all dead; he saw that I saw, and his brother too-"

Odard snapped his fingers. "That ambush we interrupted down south-the assassins-he must be working with the Prophet's men!"

Rudi flicked a glance westward. It was several thousand yards, but he could still hear the snarl of wrath that went through Boise's army as the news of their leader's death went from man to man.

"I wouldn't want to be the one to hold him to his deal," he said."Not now that he's won."

"Yeah," Ingolf added, his lips tight. "He won't stay bought… uh-oh. Cavalry headed our way. Those Cut ters who broke through aren't trying to get back to their own lines. Looks like they've got orders about us."

"We've got to split up," one of the twins said. "Into smaller groups at least."

Rudi nodded. "If they've got one dust trail to follow we're all dead. Meet at the rendezvous. Fast. "

Rudi had swung down out of the saddle and stripped off the barding from Epona and her daughter as he spoke; they didn't need fifty extra pounds.

"Right," he said, tossing Macha Mongruad's reins to the younger Thurston. "Fred, you'll go with Father Ignatius."

He met the cleric's eye, and received a short sharp nod.

"Everyone, get going."

Baron Odard Liu slid out of the saddle as his horse collapsed, wheezing blood and froth as the arrowhead worked its way into the lungs. He was in the upper reaches of a defile, and he'd have had to let the beast go soon anyway, as the footing grew worse. Rock crunched and slid under his feet, and he turned with his shield up as the yelping cries of the pursuit echoed off the tall rock faces to either side.

Death tasted of salt and tears and sweat, and bitter alkali dust and the chill of morning. Awareness of it had been growing as they ran and hid and twisted through the hours of darkness.

No man could outrun an arrow.

Or his fate, he thought. Still, I'd have liked to lay a few more girls in the clover and sing a few more songs before I went… at eighty, by preference, and on a throne…

"Sorry," he said to Mathilda Arminger. "I'll hold them as long as I can. Ingolf drew off a fair number."

Her face was stiff but unyielding. Brave to a fault, he thought, then scowled as she slipped down from her own mount.

"Now, please, don't spoil my gesture," he said. "I would like my last heroic stand to have some point."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "I can't climb that in a hauberk, and if I try taking it off, they'll be on us before I'm half done. Let's make it cost them."

He sighed. "How deplorably practical you are, Princess," he said. "Admirably courageous, though."

But then, whatever anyone called her father, nobody ever said he was a coward. And I don't think the Spider has nerves at all, just clockwork and levers inside. Whenever I regret my mother, it would be well to remember what poor Mathilda has to put up with!

There was a mouthful of water left in his canteen, and they shared it as the Cutters rode into the space beneath them. Two boulders and a dead cottonwood gave the three of them a little cover. He was a bit surprised to see Alex hadn't slipped off; the little man was reliable, but this was beyond the usual call of duty.

That must have shown on his face. "The dowager baroness charged me most particularly to keep you safe, my lord," he said, and turned away to cock his crossbow.

"Good man," Odard said. Then he looked at Mathilda. "By the way, I love you," he went on. Then at her shocked look: "Well, it may not be the opportune moment, but there may not be all that many more."

The Cutters had sent their horses to the rear and were standing crouched with their shields up. It was middling bowshot, but they were fairly well armored, and the ground wasn't too steep most of the way from the dry creekbed to his position…

Their commander came out from his unit's shield wall and stood with hands on his hips. "I haven't got the time to shilly-shally," he called. "The High Seeker wants you alive; only the Ascended Masters know why. Give yourself up-and I guarantee your safety until you're turned over to my superiors. If you don't, well, I didn't promise to capture you unharmed. Just alive."

Odard searched for a suitable reply; Mathilda pre empted him with a short pungent pair of words. The Cutter's tuft of chin beard moved as he grinned.

"I won't forget that, soulless Nephilite whore," he said coldly, and drew his shete. "Ready, you servants of the Light bearer!" he called to his men.

The universe dissolved in silver light. When Odard could think again he found himself facedown, and even the dry gritty smell of the rock beneath his face made his stomach twist in nausea. He recognized the other sen sations-whirling dizziness, stabbing pain-and didn't bother trying to stand up; getting your brain rattled around in your head wasn't like taking a nap, and no body just sprang back to their feet and went on their way afterwards. The coif and padding had absorbed most of the force of the blow by Alex's crossbow butt, but enough had gotten through… He gulped back stomach acid and glared at his servant's boots.

The older man held the crossbow on Mathilda and spoke: "Your Highness, I didn't promise the baroness to keep you alive at all costs, so please don't move. Even that armor won't stop a bolt at this range."

"Traitor!" she snapped.

"I'm a Gervais vassal, and you're not my liege," Alex said tranquilly. "Baroness Mary saved my life and my family's after the Change, and I'm going to keep her son alive whether he has the sense to agree or not."

"Kill me, then!" Mathilda spit, beginning to raise her sword.

"Oh, I won't kill you. I'll just shoot you through the shoulder. .. and I'm a very good shot, Your Highness. The Cutters won't hurt either of you. They'll even give you a good doctor. But you'll be laid out for months."

Slowly, reluctantly, her fingers opened and she dropped the blade. Smart, too, Odard thought with punch-drunk detachment. God and the Saints, what a woman!

Alex nodded and called out over his shoulder without taking his eyes off her, much louder: "Glastonbury! Violet God flame! I have your safe conduct passwords and two very valuable hostages, gentlemen!"

Odard let his head fall to the rock and groaned slightly. Obviously Mary Liu had been giving instructions behind his back again.

Mother, must you always interfere? he thought, and then let himself fall back into the waiting blackness.

Ingolf Vogeler laughed. "Haven't we been here before?" he said, as he looked at the drawn bows of the Cutters.

Near-ripe wheat hissed against his stirrups, the mealy smell earthy and dusty-sweet, infinitely homelike in a way that would fill him with bitter nostalgia if he let it.