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d thought it only a local knight riding across the downsuntil he recognized the throaty battle chuckle； a sound that filled him with dread。
Gaborn had been watching King Sylvarresta； shocked and saddened that the poor fool； though he knew almost nothing at all； had been forced to confront mortality。 It felt like watching a child get torn apart by dogs。
Gaborn only had time to push Iome behind him； spin and raise a hand to shout 〃No！〃
Then Borenson's gray steed thundered past； its armor rattling。 Huge。 Unstoppable。
Borenson's lance was lowered on the far side of the horse； twenty feet of polished white ash with its blackened steel tip at the end。 Gaborn thought of throwing himself forward； pushing that lance tip away。
But Borenson raced past before Gaborn could act。
Gaborn stood but thirty feet from King Sylvarresta； yet time seemed to slow in that second。
Gaborn had seen Borenson joust a hundred times。 The man had a steady hand； a deft touch。 He could skewer a plum off a fence post with a lance； even on a force horse galloping sixty miles an hour。
Borenson approached with his lance low； as if he'd go for a stomach wound； and Gaborn saw him raise it just a bit； holding steady； aiming at Sylvarresta's heart。
For his part； Sylvarresta seemed not to recognize what was happening。 The King's face had twisted in a grimace； for he'd just remembered the one thing Gaborn had hoped he'd never e to learn； and he had been shouting the word 〃death；〃 though he could not have foreseen his own。
Then the steed bore down on Sylvarresta。 Borenson pulled his lance to the right a fraction of an inch； so it would not graze one of the spears in Gaborn's spear wall。
Then the horse charged through the spear wall； sent some shafts flying； shattered others。 Almost at that same moment； the tip of Borenson's lance took King Sylvarresta just below the sternum。
The spear entered deftly； pushing the King backward and lifting him from his feet。
Borenson let the lance slide ten feet through the King's chest； so the tapering wood spread his ribs open wide； then suddenly released the haft and leaned clear of the dying man。
The horse thundered two steps； leapt the corpse of Gaborn's father； crashed through the far wall of spears； and charged on past the trunk of the huge oak tree。
King Sylvarresta stood a moment； blinking stupidly at the huge lance that skewered him； staring in wonder at his own blood as it spurted over the polished white ash。 Then his knees buckled。 His head sagged； and he pitched to his left。
As he died； he looked at his daughter and moaned weakly。
Gaborn had no weapons at hand。 He'd left his horseman's warhammer sheathed in his saddle。
He rushed forward； grabbed a spear from the ground； and called to Iome。 She did not need prodding。 Her horse had startled away at Gaborn's shout。
Iome ran behind Gaborn。 He thought that she would let him shield her。 But in a moment it became clear that she did not plan to hide behind him at all。 She merely sought her way past him； to get to her father； who lay crumpled and bleeding。
Borenson spun his horse； pulled the horseman's battle…axe from its sheath on the back of the saddle； and flipped up the visor of his helm。 For half a second； he merely glared。
There was pain in his blue eyes； the pain of madness。 His face was red from rage； his teeth gritted。 He smiled no longer。
Running forward； Gaborn grabbed his father's shield from the spot where it hung to the oak； raised it to protect Iome and Sylvarresta； then backed away； standing five feet behind the cold corpse of King Orden。
Gaborn knew Borenson would not risk letting his mount trample King Orden's corpse； defiling it。 He'd not spur his horse into battle。
But Gaborn did not feel so certain Borenson would refrain from striking him： Borenson had been pelled to mit bloody murder in assassinating the Dedicates at Castle Sylvarresta。 He'd been forced to choose between slaughtering King Sylvarresta and the King's menhis own friendsor letting the Dedicates live to serve Raj Ahten。
It was an evil choice； with no fair answer； no answer that any man could hope to live with。
〃Give her to me！〃 Borenson shouted。
〃No！〃 Gaborn said。 〃She is a Dedicate no longer！〃
In that moment； Borenson looked down beneath Iome's hood； saw her fair face； no longer wrinkled。 Saw her eyes clear。 A look of astonishment came over him。
A dark blur rushed past Gaborn； some knight of Sylvarresta with great metabolism； running with his might at Borenson。 The fellow leapt； and Borenson leaned back from the attack； swung his warhammer； caught the warrior full in the face。 Blood sprayed the air as the dying warrior hurtled over Borenson's horse。
Hundreds of people had witnessed Sylvarresta's murder。 Gaborn had been totally focused on Borenson； but now he became aware of the others。
Duke Groverman and a full hundred knights were rushing up the hill with weapons drawn。 Behind them ran moners。 Some looked furious； others dismayed。 Some could not believe what had happened。 Gaborn heard shouts； the hue and cry of 〃Murder； murder most foul！〃 and 〃Kill him！〃 and others shouting in wordless grief at the death of their King。
Young boys with scythes and sticks were running up the hill； their bloodless faces twisted in dismay。
Iome dropped to her knees； took her father's head in her lap。 She rocked back and forth； weeping。 Her father's blood was pumping out quickly through the huge wound； as if he were a steer being bled by a butcher。 The blood pooled and mingled with the melting snow。
Things had happened so quickly； Gaborn just stood； dazed。 His guard had killed the father of the woman he loved。 Gaborn's own life might well be in jeopardy。
Some here would see it as their duty to avenge House Sylvarresta。 A tide of people swept toward Borenson。 Some young men were stringing longbows。
Gaborn shouted； using all the power he could muster in his Voice； 〃Stop！ Leave him to me！〃
Borenson's horse danced backward at the shout； and he fought to control the mount。 Those nearest Gaborn all stopped expectantly。 Others still rushed up the hill； unsure。
Iome looked down at her people； raised a hand for them to halt。 Gaborn suspected that her mand alone would not have stopped the mob； if Borenson were not such a deadly foe。 But partly from fear； partly from respect for their Princess； the crowd advanced only falteringly； and some older and wiser lords near the front spread their arms； to hold the more hot…tempered men back。
Borenson glared at the mob in contempt； then flourished his hammer； pointing at Iome； and gazed into Gaborn's eyes： 〃She should have died with the rest of them！ By your father's own orders！〃
〃He rescinded that order；〃 Gaborn said calmly； using all his training in the control of Voice； precisely repeating every studied inflection； so he could convey to Borenson that he spoke the truth。
Borenson's mouth fell open in horror； for he was full of guilt； and Gaborn now laid it on him thicker。 Almost； Gaborn imagined that he could hear the sneers that would be cast at Borenson's back for years： 〃Butcher。 Assassin。 Kingslayer！〃
Yet Gaborn could not speak anything but the truth； no matter how h