"That's for you to ask and for me not to answer, seeing as how your first question should have been about my wife."

Lewin seemed to recall something unpleasant. "I apologize."

"You're doing a lot of that, but don't wager it will be enough."

"I trust she is well."

"Oh, your healer was good enough. And now, by your leave, Sir Pirvan, I will go back whence I came and start putting our folk to the work I promised you. Tell your Red Robe what I said, won't you?"

Nuor rose, and as he walked past Pirvan, he carefully scuffed the map on the floor into a series of dark smears. Pirvan hoped Lewin had not been listening at the door, but could hardly ask him that.

"Since you are here and claim need to speak to me, and I would not doubt such a claim from another knight, then sit down and speak." Pirvan picked up a chair and set it before Sir Lewin, with as much graciousness as he could muster.

Lewin was seated before Nuor was out the door.

Pirvan searched for words to begin a conversation instead of a quarrel. He realized Lewin was doing the same.

Nuor had given Pirvan a gift almost as precious as water or the refugees' escape. He had embarrassed Sir Lewin, something Pirvan would have sworn no mortal being could do, leaving the Knight of the Sword able to dominate the Knight of the Rose-if he wished.

When he thought of what was at stake, Pirvan decided he would do far worse to Sir Lewin than dominate him, if necessary.

"Sir Lewin, I have the right to know what has passed between you and Nuor of the Black Chisel."

"Nothing that concerns you."

"I doubt that. What concerns one of our allies, one who has offered to see justice done to innocent folk, also concerns me. I would not care to hear callous words from you about the refugees."

Indeed, if he heard them, Pirvan was quite prepared to challenge Sir Lewin to a test of honor, or even simply have him thrown in irons. That fact was better not put into words-but he did put it into his voice, and Sir Lewin seemed to hear it.

"Very well. It was a small matter of a mistake by one of my archers."

It was at least not a large matter. Even after hearing all the details, Pirvan had to agree with that. The Solamnic men-at-arms were superior fighting men, but even such grew uneasy and quick to shoot or slash on unknown ground facing unknown foes.

Lewin concluded with: "I have answered enough of your questions and more. You have exceeded all the bounds allowed to a knight of your rank toward a knight of mine, by asking them at all. But I will say no more of the matter if the questions are at an end."

"They are not."

"Then I command-"

"I suggest you sit down, Sir Lewin."

"That 'suggestion' sounds like an order. Will you tie me to the chair if I disobey?"

"Do you wish to wager our ability to work together for the good of the knights, and to avoid a tribunal, on my not doing so?"

Sir Lewin sat down. "Perhaps we should pray for less hasty tongues and tempers," he said after a moment. "They can do as much harm as hasty archers."

"I will not dispute that," Pirvan said. "As to those questions, I was thinking more of your asking me, and others who can answer them to your satisfaction. You see, Sir Lewin, you are not in all respects my superior here in Belkuthas. I hold the rank of commander of the citadel by appointment of its lawful lord and lady, Krythis and Tulia. I also command those men I brought from Tirabot, and hold the rank of chief equal to Threehands in authority over the Gryphons."

Lewin muttered something that sounded like, but that Pirvan hoped was not, "sand-eaters."

"So you see, I am your commander in truth, except by the standard of the Knights of Solamnia. And even by those standards, you do not command here. The Measure says plainly that regardless of rank, on detached duty, the knight who has the greatest knowledge of the land has command until his superiors have equaled his knowledge. That may take you a few days, so I suggest you start asking those questions."

"I suppose this would have to be called detached duty," Lewin said. His smile seemed glued on, rather like a cheap seal to a letter. "But duty also implies doing what it is lawful for a knight to do."

"What have I done that is unlawful?"

Lewin's answer at least came swiftly to his tongue. "You have set yourself in arms against the servants of Istar-you, a Knight of Solamnia and therefore sworn to Istar. You have shed blood of comrades in fighting the tax soldiers!"

"They may rank as such," Pirvan admitted, "but my orders were to see if the tax soldiers would seek justice between Istar and the Silvanesti. They have not as yet fought the Silvanesti, but have behaved, where I have seen them, more like thieves and outlaws."

"You would know, I am sure."

Pirvan took a deep breath. "I also fear that the tax soldiers, left unopposed, will provoke a war with the Silvanesti."

"Our honor demands that we fight at Istar's side, if so."

"If the war comes, then so be it. But the Measure also commands that justice be sought in peace, before one draws the sword. And it is commanded that if we see those to whom we are sworn doing injustice, we consider where our honor lies. You know as well as I do the times knights have refused to keep an oath that would require them to wrong the innocent-or the times they have slain themselves after obeying such a command."

Lewin's eyes were on the floor. Was he trying to read the smudges that had been Nuor's map, or was he merely unable to meet Pirvan's eyes? Or, as likely, was he just weary from a long journey and unfit to make hard decisions?

Pirvan considered the questions, turning them over in his mind like a joint on a spit over hot coals-which seemed to rather describe his situation.

The Measure of all the orders, the True Gods of Krynn, and the common sense of any man able to find the jakes when he needed them spoke against doubting another knight's honor. His wisdom was fair game; his honor was not.

What did you do when your own honor was deeply engaged to folk whom the other knight might endanger? What if you erred on the side of charity toward him? What happened to your honor if you ended with their lives on your conscience for the remainder of your days?

What Pirvan did was decide, yearn briefly for the days of his youth when he thought the gods and even some men knew what was just, and spoke.

"Sir Lewin, I do not beg your pardon, but say it will be a pleasure to learn I have misjudged you. I have seen far too many follies these past few days, and men have died of them. I will not stand by to see more follies and more dead.

"But I promise you this: You may feel free to go where you wish, anywhere in the citadel. We are none of us safe outside it, so I cannot allow you beyond the walls.

"Within them, however, you may see whatever you wish to see, ask any questions you wish answered, of anyone you think will answer them, and otherwise do as you please as long as you do not hinder our work of defense.

"Within days, I think you will see that the tax soldiers are not serving justice, honor, or even Istar. Our oath demands that they be kept from doing further harm, not that they be aided in doing it.

"Have I your word of honor about doing no harm?"

"I thought I had already given it."

"No one ever swore too many oaths."

"Except at bad wine and ugly serving wenches, perhaps," Lewin said with a flicker of a smile that now seemed to come from within. "Very well. Upon my word of honor, I will do naught that you consider hindering the defense of Belkuthas, while learning the truth of its situation. Will that suffice?"

It would. Pirvan hastily scribbled and sealed a pass for Sir Lewin. Even so, as the Knight of the Rose departed, Pirvan felt an itching between his shoulder blades and a hollow feeling in his stomach.

I do this for you, Sir Marod, more than for Sir Lewin, he thought. But none will be happier than I if he proves he can learn from his errors, and with us seek justice among all the folk of Krynn.

Pirvan's bodyguard was waiting outside the chamber. He had ordered that they be sent up, a man-at-arms and a Gryphon warrior, before he went to meet with Nuor. He looked at them; they tried not to look at him, sensing his embarrassment. He had never been one for keeping state, or holding his life more precious than the lives of the fighters he led.

This had changed. It was not, in his opinion, a change for the better.

"Summon an escort for Sir Lewin, and then go find the Lady Rynthala."

"The escort is on the way," the man-at-arms said.

"Lady Rynthala is in the stables, with the pegasus," the Gryphon said.

Pirvan frowned at both of them. He thought they were too new to the role of guards to be undertaking the management of his comings and goings, so that he never had a moment alone.

"Very well. One of you stay here until the escort arrives. The other will be enough to keep me safe between here and the stables."

The man-at-arm's salute was more polished than that of the Gryphon. On the other hand, the Gryphon warrior did a better job of keeping his face straight.

Pirvan had never seen a pegasus so close as he saw Amrisha when he reached the stables. Rynthala had arranged for two stables to be thrown together to provide Amrisha enough room for her wings. Now she stood tall and proud, favoring one leg as if weight on it strained her wounded flank.

"She hasn't tried to spread the wounded wing yet," Rynthala said. "I hope Belot can at least exercise her in the courtyard within a day or two." She looked at Pirvan in appeal, and the knight would have sworn the appeal was echoed in Amrisha's almost luminous green eyes.

A shrug would have been as accurate an answer as any number of words. But Pirvan knew the requirements of courtesy.

"One-company, or maybe alliance of companies-has had a bloody nose. The other two seem to have lost their chiefs. They'll be back, but we may be able to find fresh water supplies and evacuate the refugees while they're sorting themselves out."

"So said Darin." Rynthala cocked her head to one side, a curiously girlish gesture considering that Pirvan had to look up to meet her eyes. "Is that the truth, or are you knights conspiring to deceive us-not only me, but my parents?"

"We're only conspiring to avoid raising false hopes or throwing people into despair without reason," Pirvan said, more sharply than he had intended. "Either kind of folly has overthrown more fortresses than siege engines, dragons, and spells put together."

"I am sure you know better than we do," Rynthala said. "Perhaps even as well as you think you do." She turned and walked away. Her hips swayed naturally as she walked, rather as Haimya's had done-and indeed, Rynthala was built like a younger, taller version of Haimya. The elven slenderness of both her parents had given way to a more human solidity of bone and fullness of hip and breast.

If she wed anyone of her own stature or taller, they might breed up a race of giants.

Meanwhile, Pirvan had completely forgotten what he had come down to the stables to say. He resolved to see if Sirbones or Tarothin could do anything to further speed the pegasus's healing. If they could do anything for the flying mare ... after they had healed the day's wounded among both defenders and prisoners, without needing healing themselves!

The dwarves seemed to interpret "nightfall" rather generously. The sun had barely touched the horizon and the evening coolness had yet to flow over Belkuthas when Pirvan felt the ground quiver faintly.

"Good for the dwarves," Tharash said, coming up on the wall behind Pirvan.

"I thought that was a secret," the knight snapped.

"From men, maybe. From elves-elves with my kind of hearing, at least ..." He shrugged.

"Let's talk of this somewhere else," Pirvan said. He tried to moderate his tone, but today his tongue seemed to have a will of its own and an edge like a razor.

Tharash followed him down the stairs and across the courtyard, past the refugees, toward the living quarters.

"Not all of those folk can shift for themselves in the forest," the old elf said. "They'll need guarding, maybe a few rangers to hunt for them. While they're out, the rangers can also hunt sell-swords, I should think."

"You are asking to lead the rangers?"

"Well ..."

"If Rynthala consents, I may also."

"If Lady Rynthi doesn't consent, I won't go."

Once upon a time, long, long ago, Pirvan had read in one of the knights' books on the principles of war about something known as "unity of command." This apparently meant having one undoubted leader, to say yea or nay, in each body of fighters.

Pirvan wondered what the writer would have thought of the situation at Belkuthas. He hoped the man would have at least found it worthy of laughter. As for himself, he had not much laughter left.

"Knight!"

They turned, to see Lauthin marching toward them. He could certainly stride out finely, considering his age and long robes (if now somewhat smeared with smut). He bore his staff of office and wore a look on his face that drove the last traces of laughter from Pirvan. Tharash looked none too happy either.

"My name is Sir Pirvan of Tirabot," the knight said. If Lauthin was determined to fight for dominance like a none-too-shrewd wolf, Pirvan had no intention of baring throat.

"Are you conspiring with this dark elf to seduce my guards away from their duty?"

The question actually had Pirvan goggling like a dying fish, until Tharash gripped his arm and pointed. Lauthin had brought some of his guards with him. Four of them, with short swords at their belts.

"I think we could discuss what has been done or left undone in a less public place," Pirvan said.

"That may be your wish or your way. We of Silvanesti do justice in the light, so that all can see."

"Well, then," Tharash said. "The light's going fast, and I always heard that justice should be swift to be sure. So, speak your piece, my lord judge."

Lauthin actually gobbled wordlessly for a moment. The four guards stepped forward. Pirvan resolved that if they drew their swords, he would disarm them without bloodshed, if possible. He doubted it would be. Elves had good reason to be proud of their swiftness.

Tharash moved first. He sidestepped, then whirled on one leg, kicking out with the other. The foot hooked the high judge's staff of office, sending it flying. Tharash dived for it, snatched it up, rolled, sprang to his feet, then rested it on his shoulder like a spear.

For all his years, Tharash had been so swift that only one of Lauthin's guards even tried to draw his sword. Pirvan slapped the elf's wrist with the flat of his own blade, and Tharash pushed the fallen weapon back to its owner with the end of the staff.

"Lauthin," Tharash said. "I am no Silvanesti elf, so your high and mighty judgeship means nothing to me. I will give back your staff, though, when I have spoken.

"Lauthin, some of those elves who fought on the walls today want to go into the forest because they're afraid you'll punish them. Some of them just don't like the sell-swords. I don't blame them.

"Other elves are ashamed of staying out of Rynthala's fight, or have lovers and friends among those going. They want to go. Oh, you can try to keep them there, and maybe they won't desert the way humans would. Some will, though, wandering out in twos and threes, likely to their deaths.

"If you force them to that, Lauthin, their blood will be on your hands and their kin before your seat, demanding that you step down from it. If you don't see that, you are the biggest fool the gods ever allowed to walk the face of Krynn!"

Lauthin stepped back as if slapped, his mouth working. After a while a sound came out, then words.

"How many?"

"A good half. They'll need folk who know the land with them, but I and my lads and the dwarves could help them there."

"Half," Lauthin murmured. "My embassy-it needs to be guarded."

"Your precious person may need guarding, but you do not here and now have an embassy. Until somebody comes along who's interested in talking rather than shooting, your guards can do better guarding what's more useful than you, which is just about everything and everybody in Belkuthas, starting with the midden-heap gully dwarves!"