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ly benefit from the endowments so long as the giver still lived。
Iome herself lent a hand in the preparations； her Days watching impassively from the shadows by the keep's kitchens。 At the moment； Iome knelt in the dusty courtyard above a cot where lay the matron who had cared for her since childhood。 The matron； a husky woman named Dewynne； sweated profusely from nervousness； despite the cool evening。 The high walls of the fortress kept everyone in shade。
Iome's father spoke； the power of his voice cutting across the courtyard： 〃Dewynne； are you sure you can do this？〃
Dewynne smiled at him weakly； her face rigid from fear。 〃We all fight as we can；〃 she whispered。 Iome could hear love in her voice； love for King Sylvarresta。
The chief facilitator； Erin Hyde； stepped between Dewynne and the King； inspecting a forcible。 The rod looked like a branding iron of reddish blood metal。 It was a foot long； with a rune forged in a one…inch circle at one end。 Hyde gently pressed the rune to Dewynne's fleshy arm。
Hyde began his incantation； chanting in a high voice； his words more a piping birdlike song rather than anything a human would utter。 The words came so quickly that Iome could hardly distinguish one from another。 The facilitators called it a song of power。 In conjunction with the runes carved on the forcible； the song drew out a Dedicate's attribute。
The symbol on this forcible reminded Iome of an eagle flying with a giant spider dripping from its mouth。 Yet the sinuous lines on the rune varied greatly in thickness； curled at odd yet seeming natural angles。 The symbol for stamina。 Dewynne had always been healthynever sick a day of her life。 Now Lord Sylvarresta would need her stamina in battle； need it desperately if he took a serious wound。
The facilitator kept chirping in his high voice； then suddenly cried with a throaty growl； making earthy soundslike lava bubbling； like lions roaring in the wilderness。
The end of the forcible began to glow。 Its blood metal blossomed from a dull rusty rose to a fierce titanium white。
Dewynne screamed 〃Ah； by the Powers； it hurts！〃 and struggled away from the burning rune。 Sweat poured from her as if she had a raging fever。 Her face contorted in pain。
Her jaw quivered； and her back arched off the cot。 She began panting； sweat streaming from her face。
Iome held the woman； forcing her down； forcing her still。 A strong soldier took Dewynne's right arm so that she couldn't break contact with the forcible； spoil the spell。
〃Look at my father；〃 Iome said； trying to distract Dewynne from the pain。 〃Look to your lord！ He'll protect you。 He loves you。 My father has always loved you； just as you love him。 He'll protect you。 Just keep looking at your lord。〃
Iome shot a fierce glare at the facilitator； so he moved a bit； opening Dewynne's view。
〃Ah； and I thought having a child hurt！〃 Dewynne sobbed； yet she turned and looked fondly at King Sylvarresta。 It was necessary。 It was necessary for her to remember why she had to pass through this pain。 It was necessary for her to want this； to want to give up her stamina more than anything else in the world。 And the only way to keep her focused on this desire was to put the object of her devotion before her eyes。
King Sylvarresta； a strong man in his mid…thirties； was stripped to the waist； and sat on a stone in the courtyard。 His long auburn hair fell down round his shoulders； and his wavy beard was neatly trimmed。 At the moment； his armorer was trying to get him to put on a leather underjerkin in preparation for the full mail； but Sylvarresta needed to keep his upper torso bare so that the facilitator could apply the runes of power。
The King's chancellor； Rodderman； was demanding that Lord Sylvarresta go out to the walls now； to bolster the courage of his people； while the King's old sage； Chamberlain Inglorians； urged him to stay； to get as many endowments as possible。
King Sylvarresta elected to stay。 He glanced Iome's way； caught Dewynne's eyes； and just held the suffering woman with his gaze。
For that moment； nothing else mattered。 The King ignored his counselors； his armorer； the resounding tumult of an impending war。 There was infinite love in the King's eye； infinite sadness。 His look told Dewynne that he knew what she was giving him； that she mattered。 Iome knew that her father hated this； hated having to suck others dry in order to protect his vassals。
In that second； something must have changed in Dewynne； she must have reached that necessary moment of yearning； that moment when the transfer of attributes could take place。 The facilitator's growls turned to demanding shouts as the full force of his spell came unleashed。
The white…hot blood metal of the forcibles trembled and twisted； like a snake in the facilitator's hands。
Dewynne shrieked from a pain unimaginable。 Something within her seemed to collapseas if a great crushing weight pressed down on her； or as if she had bee diminished； had grown smaller。
The smell of burning hair and seared skin rose on wisps of smoke。
Dewynne writhed； tried to squirm away。 The sergeant held her； a man of inhuman strength。
Dewynne turned from Lord Sylvarresta； teeth clenched。 She was biting off the tip of her tongue； blood and spittle flowing from her chin。
In that moment； Iome thought she could see all the pain in the world in that good woman's eyes。
Dewynne collapsed into unconsciousness。 The stamina had gone from her； so much so that she could no longer keep her eyes open； could not resist the fatigue of the day。
Instead； the blood…metal runes glowed white hot and throbbed。 The facilitator； a narrow…faced man with a crooked nose and a long gray goatee； studied the molten rune of power for a moment； its light reflecting in his black eyes； then his shouting turned to a song of joy； of triumph。
He held the forcible over his head with both hands； waving it； so that a trail of white light held in the air； like a meteor's trail； but did not fade。 The ribbon of light hung in the air； tangible。 The facilitator inspected it carefully； as if judging its width； its heft。
He broke into a piping song and ran to Sylvarresta； trailing the ribbon of light。 Everyone stopped； no one daring to e near that light； to risk breaking the connection about to be forged between lord and Dedicate。
At his lord's side； the facilitator bowed； placed the white…hot blood metal beneath the King's breast。 The facilitator's song softened now； coaxing； and slowly the small forcible in his hand began to disintegrate； to crumble and blow away like white ash； even as the white umbilical of light faded。
Iome had not taken a vassal's endowment since childhood。 She had no way to remember how it had felt。 But just as giving an endowment caused unspeakable pain to the giver； so the receiver felt an inexpressible euphoria。
Lord Sylvarresta's eyes widened； and sweat poured from him。 But it was a sheen of excitement； an almost demented thrill。 His eyes glowed with joy； and every line in his face； every muscle； relaxed。 He had the decency not to sigh； not to make a great show of his pleasure。
Binnesman rushed up beside Iome； leaned near。 His breath smelled of anise。 Hi