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e next small hillock of the field； ing again within sight of the flimsy ruins of the carnival； when the great pain struck him inside his chest。 It felt like a spearthrust to the heart。
He collapsed on his back。 A fighter's instincts made him draw the great Sword again before he fell。 But he faced no weapons now； and the Sword of Force was lifeless。
As Sir Andrew lay in the grass the sky above him looked so peaceful that it surprised him。 He considered his pain。 It feels； he thought； as if my heart were bursting。 As perhaps it is。
He took a look back； quickly and critically； at what he could see at this moment of his own long life。 He found the prospect of death； at this moment； not unwele。
The pain came again； worse than before。
〃Yoldi。。。〃
But she did not answer。 She was not going to answer him ever again。
When it seemed that the pain was going to let him live yet a little longer； Sir Andrew flung Shieldbreaker away from him； using two hands and all of his remaining strength。 He had tried to throw the great Sword away before； tried again and again when he saw Yoldi running at him and realized what must have happened to her； and what was going to happen。 But the Sword's magic would not leave him then。 This time； now that it was too late； it left his hands as obediently as any stick thrown for a dog。 The blade whined faintly； mournfully； turning through the air。
The Knight did not want to die alone。 If only there could be a friend nearby … someone。
He closed his eyes； and wondered if he would ever open them on this world's skies again。 Would it be Ardneh that he saw when he opened his eyes again； as some folk thought？ Or nothingness？
He opened them and saw that he was still in the same world； under the same sky。 Something pelled him to make the effort to turn his head。 A single figure； that of a man in gray； was walking toward him from the direction of the carnival； the abandoned showplace that Sir Andrew had been perfectly sure was quite deserted。 A man； not armed or armored； but。。。 wearing a mask？
The gray…clad figure came close； and knelt down beside him like a concerned rade。
Sir Andrew asked： 〃Who're you？〃
The man raised a hand promptly and pulled off his mask。
〃Oh。〃 Sir Andrew's voice was almost disappointed in its reassurance。 〃You；〃 he said； relieved and calm。 〃Yes。。。 I know who you are。〃
Denis； returning mounted and at full speed； leading a small flying wedge of armed and armored folk who were desperate to relieve their beloved lord； found the battlefield deserted by the living。 Sir Andrew lay dead； at a little distance from the other dead。 His body； though covered with others' gore； was unmarked by any serious wound。 The expression on the Kind Knight's face was peaceful。
Presently Denis and the others began to look for Shieldbreaker。 They looked everywhere among the dead； and then in widening circles outward。 But the Sword of Force was gone。
Chapter 11
The field cot was wide enough for two … for two； at least； who were on terms of intimate friendship … but tonight； as for many nights past； only one person had slept in it。
Or tried to sleep。
The Silver Queen's field tent was not large； not for a shelter that had to serve sometimes as royal conference room as well as dwelling。 According to certain stories she had heard； it would not have made a room in the great pavilion that usually acpanied the Dark King when he traveled with his army。
She felt great scorn for many of the Dark King's ways。 But there were other things about him that enforced respect； and … to herself； alone at night； she could admit it … tended to induce fear as well。
The Queen of Yambu was sitting in near…midnight darkness on the edge of her lonely field cot； wearing the light drawers and shirt she usually slept in when in the field with her troops。 She could hear rain dripping desultorily upon the tent； and an occasional word or movement of one of the sentries not far outside。
Her gaze was fixed on a dim； inanimate shape； resting only an arm's length away beside the cot。 In midnight darkness it was all but impossible to see the thing that she was looking at； but that did not really matter； for she knew the object as well as her own hand。 It rested there on a trestle as it always did； beside her when she slept … or tried to sleep。 It was a Swordcase of carven wood； its huge wooden hilt formed by chiseled dragons with their long necks recurved； as if they meant to sink their fangs into each other。 Just where the case had originated； or when； the queen of Yambu was not sure； but she thought it beautiful； and after the best specialist magicians in her pay had pronounced it innocent of any harm for her； she had used it to encase her treasure； which she kept near her almost always … her visit to Sir Andrew in the swamp had been one notable exception … as her last dark hope for victory。
A thousand times she had opened the wooden case； but she had never yet drawn Soulcutter from its sheath inside。 Never yet had she seen the bare steel of that Blade in what she was sure must be its splendor。 She was afraid to do so。 But without it in her possession she would not have dared to take her army into the field now； risking bat with the Mindsword and its mighty owner the Dark King。
Some hours ago； near sunset； a winged half…intelligent messenger had brought her word of Vilkata's latest triumph。 He had apparently crushed what might have been Sir Andrew's entire army。 Then； instead of ing to attack her as she kept expecting he would do； Vilkata had turned his own vast forces in a move in the direction of Tashigang。
Maybe the Dark King's scouts had lost track of where her forces were。 But for whatever reason； her own certainty that she would be the first one attacked by Vilkata was proven wrong； and that gave cowardice a chance to whisper in her ear that it might not be too late for her to patch up an alliance with the King。 Of course cowardice； as usual； was an idiot。 Her intelligence told her that her only real hope lay in attacking the Dark King now； while she might still hope for some real help。 Sir Andrew was already gone。 When Tashigang too had fallen； then it would certainly be too late。
When the news of Vilkata's most recent triumph had e in； Yambu had first conferred briefly with her manders； then dismissed them； telling them to let the troops get some rest tonight。 But she herself had not been able to sleep since。 Nor； though her own necessary course of action was being plainer and plainer； had she been able to muster the will to be decisive； to give the orders to break camp and march。
Who； or what； could stand against the Mindsword？ Evidently only something that was just as terrible。
And Sir Andrew had been wearing Shieldbreaker； ready at his side。 With her own eyes； on her visit to the swamp； she had seen the small white hammer on the black hilt。 Vilkata with his Mindsword had evidently won； somehow； even against that weapon。 Did Vilkata now have possession of both those Blades？ But even if he did； each terrible augmentation of his power only made it all the more essential to march against him without delay。
The Silver Queen stood up and moved forward one short pace in midn