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Borenson followed his weapon； the full weight of his shield slamming against the big knight。 Both of them bowled over the back of the knight's horse； landed in the ash。
Such fierce blows would have killed a normal man； but Raj Ahten's blood…crazed Invincible shouted a war cry； and shoved Borenson back downhill a few yards。
The Invincible leapt to his feet； drew his mace。 Gaborn wondered if the knight would live up to his name； for he seemed invincible。 Some of these knights had over twenty endowments of stamina； could recover from nearly any blow。
The Invincible rushed forward； a blur。 Borenson lay on his back。 He kicked； slamming an iron boot into the knight's ankle。 A bone snapped like the cracking of an axle。
The Invincible swung his mace。 Borenson tried to block the blow with the edge of his shield。 The shield crumpled under the impact； and the lower edge of it drove into Borenson's gut。
Borenson groaned beneath the blow。
Gaborn had nearly reached the battle； his own horse flying back uphill。
Gaborn leapt from his horse's back。 The Invincible whirled to meet him。 The big man swung his mace high； ready to smash Gaborn under its iron spikes。
The Invincible's full helm allowed no peripheral vision； so he could not see Gaborn till he turned。 As he spun； Gaborn aimed his sword at the eye slits in the man's visor。
The blade slid in with a sickening thud； and Gaborn let himself fall forward； knocking the knight backward； piercing his skull。
He landed atop the armored knight； lay a moment； the breath knocked from him。 Gasping。 He looked the Invincible in the face； to be sure he was dead。
The fine blade had driven through the eye slit up to the hilt； driven through the Invincible's skull； then punctured through the back of his helm。 Even an Invincible could not survive such a devastating wound。 This one had gone as limp as a jellyfish。
Gaborn got up in shock； conscious of how close he'd e to death。
He quickly assessed himself； checking for wounds； glanced uphill； afraid another knight might charge down。
He tried to yank his short sword free of the Invincible's helm。 The blade would not e loose。
Gaborn climbed to his hands and knees； gazed at Borenson； panting。 Borenson rolled to his stomach； began vomiting onto the charred earth。
〃Well met； my friend；〃 Gaborn said； smiling。 He felt as if it were the first time he'd smiled in weeks； though he'd left Borenson only two days past。
Borenson spat on the ground； clearing his mouth； and smiled at Gaborn。
〃I really think you should get your butt out of here before Raj Ahten es down the road。〃
〃Good to see you； too；〃 Gaborn said。
〃I mean it；〃 Borenson grumbled。 〃He'll not let you go so easily。 Don't you realize that he came all this way just to destroy House Orden？〃
Chapter 21
FAREWELL
In the Dedicates〃 Keep； Chemoise grunted as she struggled to help her father from his bed of straw and dried lavender； dragged him out onto the green grass of the bailey so he could board the great wain for his trip back south。 It was hard to move such a big man。
No； it was not his weight that made dragging him difficult。 Instead it was the way he clutched her； grasping fiercely at her shoulders； his powerful fingers digging into her skin like claws； his legs unable to relax enough to walk。
She felt she had failed him years before； when she'd let him go south to fight Raj Ahten。 She'd feared he would never return； that he'd be killed。 She'd hoped her fear had been only a child's concerns。 But now； after his years as a prisoner； Chemoise imagined she'd had a premonition； perhaps a cold certainty sent from her ancestors beyond the grave。
So now she carried not only her father； but also the weight of her failure all those years before； a weight that somehow tangled with her feelings of inadequacy at having found herself pregnant。 Her； the Princess's Maid of Honor。
The western Great Hall in the Dedicates' Keep was huge； three stories tall； where fifteen hundred men slept on any given night。 Smooth walnut planks covered the floors； and each wall held a huge hearth so the room could be kept fortably warm all winter。
The eastern Great Hall； on the far side of the bailey； held a third as many women。
〃Where。。。？〃 Chemoise's father asked as she dragged him past the rows of pallets where Dedicates lay。
〃South； to Longmont； I think；〃 Chemoise said。 〃Raj Ahten has ordered you to be brought。〃
〃South；〃 her father whispered a worried acknowledgment。
Chemoise struggled to drag her father past a man who'd soiled his bed。 If she'd had time； she'd have cared for the fellow。 But the wain would leave any moment； and she couldn't risk being separated from her father。 〃You。。e？〃 her father asked。
〃Of course；〃 Chemoise said。 She could not really promise such a thing。 She could only throw herself on the mercy of Raj Ahten's men； hope they'd let her care for her father。 They'd allow it； she told herself。 Dedicates needed caretakers。
〃No！〃 her father grumbled。 He quit trying to walk； suddenly let his feet drag； making her stagger to one side。 She bore the weight； tried to carry him against his will。
〃Let die！〃 he whispered fiercely。 〃Feed。。。feed poison。 Make sick。 We die。〃
It worried her how he pleaded。 Killing himself was the only way he could strike back at Raj Ahten。 Yet Chemoise could not bear the thought of killing any of these men； even though she knew that life for them would be horrible； chained to some dirty floor。 She had to hope that her father would return someday； whole； undefiled。
Chemoise hugged her father； bore him through the big oak door； into the light。 The fresh wind carried the smell of rain。 Everywhere； Raj Ahten's troops rushed to and fro； seeking the King's treasury and armory above the kitchens。 She heard glass break down the street； the cries of merchants。
She dragged her father to the huge； covered wain in the bailey。 The sides and roof of the wain were made of thick oak planks； with only a thin grate to provide any light or fresh air。 One of Raj Ahten's soldiers grabbed her father by the scruff of the neck； lifted him into the wain with no more care than if he were a sack of grain。
〃Ah； de last；〃 the soldier said in a thick Muyyatin accent。
〃Yes；〃 she said。 The Raj's vectors were all in the wagon。 The guard turned。
Chemoise glanced down the road through the portcullis gate； startled； Iome； King Sylvarresta； two Days； and Prince Orden were riding fine horses down Market Street toward the city gates。
She wanted to ride with them； or to shout a blessing to help them on their way。
She waited while the guard wrestled her father through the door。 The wagon shifted with the movement。 At the front of the wagon； some horsemen expertly began to back four heavy horses into their traces； hitching them to the axletree。
Chemoise climbed up the wagon steps； looked in。 Fourteen Dedicates lay on straw inside the shadowed wagon。 The place smelled fetid； of old sweat and urine that had worked into the floorboards and walls。 Chemoise looked for a place to sit among the defeated menthe blind； the deaf； the idiots。 At that moment； the guard was laying her father on the hay。 He glanced over his sh