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"Well, I suppose we might as well go for the best." Stepping up to Fergox's blue roan, he held out a hand and caressed the horse's nose. "Will you carry two, my friend?"

The stallion snorted, liking the sound and smell of this human. Ramil quickly opened the loose-

box door and placed Fergox's best saddle on him. It was no time to worry about deepening their

offense by stealing a horse and tack.

"And now for you, big man," Ramil said. "I think there's only one mount here that will carry you."

He saddled the Inkar's grey warhorse, trained to carry a warrior in armor. "I hope you can ride."

Gordoc nodded. "I rode as a lad--until I got too big."

"That will have to do. We'll lead the horses out by the postern gate. It's the least heavily

guarded. Follow me." He beckoned to the other two.

They paused at the corner of the stable block before coming into view of the gate.

"How are we going to get past these guards?" Tashi asked, shivering in the cold. "More

Midwinter cheer?"

Ramil shook his head. "There are always at least six on the gate--two for the portcullis, two

inside, and two outside. I'm afraid that trick won't work again.

We need to get them together so no one has a chance to raise the alarm."

"How are we going to do that, Prince?" Gordoc asked in his not so very quiet whisper.

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"I'm still thinking about it. To be honest, I'm surprised we've got this far."

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Tashi smiled to herself. That was more like the Ramil she knew: slapdash, rushing in unprepared.

The efficiency of his rescue had been impressive, but out of character.

"I think I can flush them out of their hiding places," Tashi said softly, remembering the scared looks she had always attracted as "the Blue Crescent witch."

Ramil chewed his lower lip, calculating how many he and Gordoc could take out between them.

He had a sword borrowed from the practice courts. The giant needed no weapons but his hands.

They had to fight six men while protecting the Princess and two horses-- it was going to be

tough. But he couldn't let her take the risk, even if she could do as she said. "No, it's too

dangerous. Stay here," he ordered.

"Not as dangerous as being caught," she whispered.

Tashi slipped from Gordoc's side and stepped out into the open before Ramil could catch her.

Raising her arms in front, she began running through the ritual of the fingerbowl in her own

language. She kept her eyes fixed on the soldiers as she flicked imaginary water at them.

The men leapt to attention when they saw the black-robed figure drifting towards them.

"The witch!" one gasped. "How did she get out?"

Tashi moved on to the forty strokes of the silver brush, waving her hands from her hair and out

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to the soldiers.

A guard lowered his pike, jerking it in her direction as if she was a wild animal that he was trying

to drive

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off. He was shaking in his boots. "She's spelling us! Get back, witch!" His companion panicked and thumped on the gate, summoning reinforcements.

The two guards from the portcullis rushed through the postern, weapons levelled at the pale girl

who was now twisting and turning in the steps known as the Dance of the Dragonfly, a favorite

game of children in the islands.

"Dragonfly, dragonfly, dance over the pool. Dragonfly, dragonfly, catch me a fool!" she chanted, making the trapping motion that children used to pick the next "dragonfly" in the game. The

men flinched back as if feeling a blow.

Two more guards arrived from outside. One had an arrow already in his bow.

He aimed at her, the point quivering in his terror. They didn't notice the giant creeping in the

shadows behind them.

"Stop her!" the guard squeaked, but no one dared touch her. The archer lost his nerve and

loosed his bowstring, the arrow embedding in her thigh. Tashi sank to the ground, clutching her

leg. Before the soldiers could move to recapture her, there came a grunt of fury from the

gateway and two guards fell to Gordoc's fists. Ramil attacked from the flank, running one man

through and slicing the throat of the archer. Gordoc threw a fifth man against the wall, then

punched the other one in the face before he could mount a defense.

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Ramil felt like vomiting as he saw the blood he had spilt splattered on the snow. He had never

killed a man before, but he knew there was no time for squeamishness. He ran to quiet the

horses as Gordoc picked up the

Princess.

"We must ride quickly and see to her wound once

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we are clear of the castle," Ramil said hoarsely. There was no point trying to hide the bodies:

they would lose too much time and the bloodstained ground told its own story. He swung up

into the saddle and took Tashi from Gordoc, settling her in front of him. Gordoc pushed open the

gates and stood back to allow Ramil to gallop through first. He then mounted the Inkar's grey

warhorse and spurred it on, looking like a grown man on a child's pony.

Together they clattered down the cobbled road to the main gate.

"Make way!" Ramil shouted as guards stepped out into the road.

"Messengers for the Spearthrower!" Most jumped back but one brighter man realized that

something was amiss when he saw the fair-haired passenger.

He swiped at Ramil with his spear, only to be kicked in the head by Gordoc.

A horn sounded up in the citadel. With dread, Ramil knew they were galloping towards trouble

at the main town gates. These were bound to be defended now that the alarm had been raised.

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As he feared, a group of soldiers waited with drawn swords and pikes, the front row kneeling in

the road to stop their flight. Ramil had not, however, reckoned on the warhorses. Trained for

combat, the stallions kicked out and reared, fearless of the blades, stamping a way through the

line of unfortunates who had been on duty. Gordoc reached from the saddle and lifted aside the

heavy bar locking the gates from the inside. With a roar he hurled it at the reinforcements

rushing from the guardhouse, knocking them over like ninepins.

The way clear before them, Ramil spurred his horse

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onwards. The blue roan streaked down the road, taking them beyond

bowshot from the wall. Heading north, the two horses ran towards the mountains for a mile,

passing through the checkpoints before the sleepy soldiers had a chance to react. Horns and

bells sounded in Felixholt as the garrison mobilized, soldiers shaken from their drunken stupor.

Taking advantage of a quiet stretch in the trees, Ramil steered his horse off the road and took to

the countryside, looping round to head south. He had long since decided that this was their only

hope of escape. North was where Fergox would look for them and was where he was massing

his troops. The

warhorses plunged through the woods and broke out into open fields. Ramil could hear the

snorts of the grey working hard to keep up so he knew Gordoc was still with them.

"Run, boy, run!" he urged his mount as the first flake fluttered from the sky.

The horses galloped on into the night, twin tracks in the white fields soon filled by the blessing

of a heavy fall of snow.

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Two hours later, Ramil judged they could risk a brief rest. Their steeds could not go much further

at this pace, burdened as they were, and he was worried about Tashi. He could hear her breath