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nd the Rimmersman stumbled back； just out of reach。 He opened his mouth to call to Simon once more； but had to throw himself to one side to avoid a clawing backswipe。 Blood flecked the northerner's pale beard and matted his yellow hair。 His helmet was gone。
Simon looked around wildly； then spotted a troll…spear lying among the rocks。 He caught it up and circled around the giant； whose reddened eyes and wide…flaring nostrils were fixed only on Sludig。 The creature's shaggy back loomed before him like a white wall。 A moment later； before he even had time to be surprised at himself； Simon was leaping forward over the slippery stones； thrusting the spear as hard as he could into the matted fur。 The shock of impact leaped up his arms； rattling his teeth； and for a moment he slumped strengthlessly against the giant's broad back。 The Hune threw its head up in a howl； weaving from side to side as Sludig drove in from the front with his spear。 Simon saw the Rimmersman disappear； then saw the beast bend； shuddering； and knock Sludig to the ground。
Coughing blood； the giant stood over Sludig； feeling for its club with one arm； clutching at its red…dripping stomach with the other。 With a shout of anger； mad with fury that this horrible thing should strike at his friends even while its own life leaked out； Simon snatched a handful of its pelt in one hand and the wagging spear butt protruding from the giant's back in the other； then dragged himself up onto its back。
Reeking of wet fur and musk and rotting meat； the great； quivering body straightened beneath him。 Huge talon…nailed hands came up； smacking sightlessly in search of the insect that had lighted upon it； even as Simon drove his Qanuc dagger to the hilt in the giant's neck； just below the contorted jaw。 A moment later he felt himself caught up and flung loose by wrist…wide fingers。
There was a moment of weightlessness； the sky was a cracked swirl of gray and white and dimmest blue。 Then Simon struck down。
He was staring at a round stone； just a hand's breadth beyond his nose。 He could not feel his extremities； his body limp as boned fish； nor could he hear any sounds but a faint roaring in his ears and thin squeals that might be voices。 The stone lay before him； spherical and solid； unmoving。 It was a chunk of gray granite； banded with white； which might have lain in this place since Time itself was young。 There was nothing special about it。 It was only a piece of the earth's bones； rough corners smoothed by eons of wind and water。
Simon could not move； but he could see the immobile； magnificently unimportant stone。 He lay staring at it for a long time； feeling nothing but emptiness where his body had been； until the stone itself began to gleam； throwing back the faintest pink sheen of sunset。
They came for him at last when Sedda the moon appeared； her pale face peering down through the mist and twilight。 Small； gentle hands lifted him and laid him on a blanket。 He swayed gently as they carried him downslope and set him down near a roaring fire。 Simon stared up at the moon as she mounted higher in the sky。 Binabik came to him and said many soothing things in a quiet voice； but the words seemed nonsense。 As others helped bind his wounds and laid cool； water…soaked rags on his head； Binabik crooned strange； circular songs； then gave him a bowl of something warm to drink； holding up Simon's limp head as the sour draught trickled down his throat。
I must be dying； Simon thought。 He felt a certain peace in the idea。 It seemed as though his soul had left his body already； for he felt very little connection with his own flesh。 I would have liked to have gotten out of the snows； first。 I would have liked to have gone home。 。 。 。
He thought of another stillness such as he now felt： the moment when he had stood before Igjarjuk； the silence that had seemed to envelop the whole world； the timeless time before he had brought the sword down； before the black blood had fountained up。
But this time the sword didn't help me 。 。 。 Had he lost some kind of worthiness since he had left Urmsheim？ Or was Thorn merely as inconstant as the wind and weather？
Simon remembered a warm summer afternoon back in the Hayholt； when the sunlight had angled down through the high windows of Doctor Morgenes' chambers； making the lazily floating dust gleam like drifting sparks。
〃Never make your home in a place；〃 the old man had told him that day。 〃Make a home for yourself inside your own head。 You'll fmd what you need to furnish it…memory； friends you can trust； love of learning； and other such things。 That way it wiil go with you wherever you journey 。 。 。〃
Is that what dying is？ Simon wondered。 Is it going home？ That's not so bad。 Binabik was singing again； a drowsy sound like rushing water。 Simon let go and drifted。
When he awakened late the next day； he was not immediately certain that he was still alive。 The survivors had moved during the morning and Simon had been carried； along with the other wounded； to a cave beneath a leaning rock。 On waking； he saw before him only an open hole into the gray sky。 It was the ragged black birds gliding past the cave…mouth that taught him at last that he was still in the world…the birds； and the pain in all his limbs。
He lay for a while testing his hurts； bending his joints one by one。 He ached； but movement had e back with the pain。 He was sore but whole。
After a while Binabik came to him again with another drink of his healing beverage。 The troll himself had not escaped without harm； as long runnels down his cheek and neck attested。 Binabik's look was solemn； but he seemed to give Simon's wounds only a cursory inspection。
〃We have received grievous damaging；〃 the troll said。 〃I wished I had not to say this； but 。 。 。 Haestan is dead。〃
〃Haestan？！〃 Simon sat up； forgetting his aching muscles for a moment。
〃Haestan？〃 His stomach seemed to sink away inside him。
Binabik nodded his head。 〃And of my twice…dozen panions； nine were killed and six more are being badly wounded。〃
〃What happened to Haestan？〃 He felt a sickening sense of unreality。 How could Haestan be dead？ Had they not spoken only a few moments before 。 。 。 before。 。 。 ？〃 What about Sludig？〃
〃Sludig was hurt； but not badly。 He is out with my tribesmen； cutting up wood for building of fires。 It is important for healing the injured； do you see？ And Haestan 。 。 。〃 Binabik thumped his chest with the heel of his hand…a gesture the Qanuc used； Simon had learned； to ward evil。 The troll looked profoundly unhappy。 〃Haestan was struck to the head by one of the giant's clubs。 I am told that he pushed you away from danger and was shortly after himself killed。〃
〃Oh； Haestan；〃 Simon groaned。 He expected tears to e； but they did not。 His face felt strangely numb； his sorrow somehow weak。 He put his head in his hands。 The big guardsman had been so alive； so hearty。 It was wrong that a life could be taken just that swiftly。 Doctor Morgenes； Grimmric and Ethelbearn； An'nai； now Haestan…all dead； all struck down because they tried to do what was right。 Where were those powers that should protect such innocents？