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not only did I buy myself a clean and honorable death 。。。 but it is a death you and yours might find yourself envying very soon。〃
〃And your own people？〃 Josua asked angrily。 〃Do you care nothing for them？ If what you say is true； they are already suffering。〃
〃My people？〃 Benigaris wheezed。 〃No more。 I am dead； and the dead have no loyalty。 And in any case； they are your people now…yours and my uncle's。〃
Josua stared at him for a long moment； then turned and strode away。 Camaris tried to follow him； but he was quickly surrounded by a curious mob of soldiers and Nabbanai citizens and could not break away。
Tiamak was left to kneel beside the fallen duke and watch him die。 The sun was almost touching the horizon； and cold shadows were stretching across the hillside； when Benigaris finally stopped breathing。
20
Prisoner on the Wheel
Simon first thought the great underground forge was someone's attempt to recreate Hell。 After he had been captive there for nearly a fortnight； he was certain of it。
He and the other men seemed barely to have fallen into their ragged nests at the end of one backbreaking day before one of Inch's assistants…a handful of men less terrifying but no more humane than their master…was braying at them to get up and start the next。 Almost dizzy with weariness before the work had even begun； Simon and his fellow prisoners would gulp down a cupful of thin porridge that tasted of rust； then stumble out to the foundry floor。
If the cavern where the workers slept was unpleasantly hot； the vast forge cavern was an inferno。 The stifling heat pressed against Simon's face until his eyeballs felt dry as walnut shells and his skin seemed about to crisp and peel away。 Each day brought a long； dreary round of backbreaking； finger…burning labor； made bearable only by the man who brought the water dipper。 It seemed eons between drinks。
Simon's one piece of luck was that he had fallen in with Stanhelm； who alone among the wretches working in the forge seemed to have retained most of his humanity。 Stanhelm showed the new prisoner the spots to go and catch a breath where the air was a little cooler； which of Inch's minions to avoid most scrupulously； and； most importantly； how to look like he belonged in the forge。 The older man did not know that Simon had a particular reason to stay nameless and unnoticed； but sensibly believed that no one should invite Inch's attention； so he also taught the new prisoner what was expected of all the workers； the greatest part of which was cringing subservience； Simon learned to keep his eyes lowered and work fast and hard whenever Inch was near。 He also tied a strip of rag around his finger to cover his golden ring。 He was unwilling to let such a precious thing out of his grasp； but he knew it would be a terrible mistake to let others see it。
Stanhelm's work was to sort bits of waste metal for the crucibles。 He had Simon join him at it； then taught his new apprentice how to tell copper from bronze and tin from lead by tapping the metal against stone or scratching its surface with a jagged iron bar。
A strange jumble of things passed through their hands on the way to the smelter； chains and pots and crushed bits of plating whose original purpose was unguessable； wagon rims and barrel bands； sacks full of bent nails； fire irons； and door hinges。 Once Simon lifted a delicately wrought bottle rack and recognized it as something that had hung on the wall of Doctor Morgenes' chamber； but as he stared； caught for a moment in an eddying memory of a happier past； Stanhelm nudged him in warning that Inch was approaching。 Simon hurriedly tossed it into the pile。
The scrap metal was carried to the row of crucibles that hung in the forge fire； a blaze as large as a house； fed with a seemingly unending supply of charcoal and heated by bellows that were themselves pumped by the action of the foundry's massive water wheel； which was three times as high as a man and revolved ceaselessly； day and night。 Fanned by the bellows； the forge fire burned with such incredible ferocity that it seemed a miracle to Simon the very stone of the cavern did not melt。 The crucibles； each containing a different metal； were moved by a collection of blackened chains and pulleys which were also connected to the wheel。 Yet another set of chains； so much larger than the links that moved the crucibles that they seemed made to shackle giants； extended upward from the wheel's hub and vanished into a darkened crevice in the forge chamber's roof。 Not even Stanhelm wanted to talk about where those went； but Simon gathered it had something to do with Pryrates。
In stolen moments； Stanhelm showed Simon the whole process； how the scrap was melted down to a glowing red liquid； then decanted from the crucibles and formed into sows； long cylindrical chunks of raw metal which； when cool； were carried away by sweating men to another part of the vast chamber where they would be shaped into whatever it was that Inch supplied to his king。 Armor and weapons； Simon guessed； since in all the great quantities of scrap； he had seen almost no articles of war that were not damaged beyond use。 It made sense that Elias wished to convert every unnecessary bit of metal into arrow heads and sword blades。
As the days passed； it became more and more clear to Simon that there was little chance he would escape from this place。 Stanhelm told him that only a few prisoners had escaped during the past year and all but one had quickly been dragged back。 None of the recaptured had lived long after returning。
And the one who escaped was Jeremias； Simon thought。 He only managed it because Inch was foolish enough to let him go upstairs on an errand。 I doubt I will get such a chance。
The feeling of being trapped was so powerful； the impulse to flee so intense； that at times Simon could hardly stand it。 He thought obsessively about being carried upward by the great water wheel chains to whatever dark place they went。 He dreamed of finding a tunnel leading out of the great chamber； as he had during his first escape from the Hayholt； but they were all filled in now； or led only to other parts of the forge。 Supplies from the outside came with Thrithings mercenary guards armed with spears and axes； and the arrival of anything was always supervised by Inch or one of his chieftains。 The only keys hung rattling on Inch's broad belt。
Time was growing short for his friends； for Josua's cause； and Simon was helpless。
And Pryrates has not left the castle； either。 So it is likely only a matter of time until he es back here。 What if he is not in such a hurry next time？ What if he recognizes me？
Whenever he seemed to be alone and unwatched； Simon hunted for anything that might help him to escape； but he found little that gave him any hope。 He pocketed a piece of scrap iron and took to sharpening it against the stone when he was supposed to be sleeping。 If Pryrates discovered him at last； he would do what damage he could。
Simon and Stanhelm were standing near the scrap pile； panting for breath。 The older man had cut himself on a jagged edge and his hand was