and stood up on his toes to see。 There indeed was the priest's tiny； hairless head bobbing atop a scarlet cloak that looked orange in the gateyard torchlight。 The duke found himself wondering how he could get close enough to stick a knife into the sneaking traitor。 Ah； sweet God； but that would be satisfying！
But what good would it do； besides the admitted good of removing Pryrates from this earth？ It would not find Miriamele； and I would never escape to search for her after the deed was done。 Not to mention what would happen if Pryrates did not die…p'raps he has some sorcerous shield。
No； it would not do。 But if he could get in to see the lector； he would give Ranessin an earful about that devil's bastard of a red priest and his hellish counseling of the High King。 But what was Pryrates doing here of all places？
Isgrimnur tramped off to bed； thoughts of mayhem denied swim… ming through his mind。
Twenty cubits below； Pryrates looked up to the mon room balcony as though he had heard someone calling his name； his black eyes glitteringly intent； his pale head gleaming like a toadstool in the shadows of the gateyard。 The spectators in the mon room； separated by distance and darkness； could not see the smile that curled across the priest's gaunt face； but they could feel the sudden draught of chill air that swept down on the Sancellan Aedonitis； setting the guards' cloaks to billowing。 Goosefleshed； the monks on the balcony quickly made their way inside； pushing the door shut behind them before hastening back to the fire。
12
The Fly of a Bird
SIMON and his panions left Binabik's people behind and rode southeast along the base of the Trollfells； clinging to the foothills like a nervous child unwilling to wade into deeper water。 On their right； the white emptiness of the Waste stretched away into the distance。
In the middle of the gray afternoon； as they walked their horses across a thin trail of stones that made an uncertain crossing over one of Blue Mud Lake's inlet streams； a wedge of cranes flew overhead； gabbling and honking until it seemed they would rattle the sky。 The birds swerved above the riders' heads； wings thrusting； then banked as one and flew into the south。
〃Three months it is before they should be making that journey；〃 Binabik said ruefully。 〃It is wrong； very wrong。 Spring and summer have been retreated like a beaten army。〃
〃It doesn't seem much colder than it did when we were on our way to Urmsheim；〃 Simon offered； clutching at Homefinder's reins。
〃That was in late spring；〃 Sludig grunted； working to keep his footing on the water…slicked stones。 〃Now we are in midsummer。〃
Simon thought about that。 〃Oh；〃 he said。
They stopped on the stream's far bank to share a few of the provisions that Binabik's folk had sent with them。 The sun was gray and remote。 Simon wondered where he would be when another summer came…if another summer came。
〃Can the Storm King make it winter forever？〃 he asked。
Binabik shrugged。 〃That is not in my knowledge。 He has been making winter very well during these Yuven… and Tiyagar…months。 Let us not think of it； Simon。 It will not be making our task any easier to worry over such things。 Either the Master of Storms will triumph or he will not。 There is nothing else for doing with what we have been given。〃
Simon swung himself clumsily into his saddle。 He envied Sludig's practiced grace。 〃I'm not talking about stopping it；〃 he said testily。 〃l just wondered what he was going to do。〃
〃If I could know；〃 Binabik sighed； 〃I would not be cursing myself for an unfit student of my good master。〃 He whistled for Qantaqa。
They stopped again that afternoon while some daylight still remained to scavenge for firewood and give Sludig some time to instruct Simon。 The Rimmersman found a long tree limb beneath the snow and broke it in half； binding a strip of rag around one end of each piece for an easier grip。
〃Can't we use real swords？〃 Simon asked。 〃I'm not going to be fighting anyone with wood。〃
Sludig raised a skeptical eyebrow。 〃So？ You would prefer slipping and sliding on wet ground while fighting a trained swordsman with real blades？ Using this black sword； perhaps； that you cannot lift half the time？〃 He indicated Thorn with a jerk of his head。 〃I know it is cold and dreary on this journey； Simon； but are you really so anxious to die？〃
Simon stared hard。 〃I'm not so clumsy。 You told me so yourself。 And Haestan taught me some things。 〃
〃In a fortnight？〃 Sludig's look turned to amusement。 〃You are brave； Simon； and lucky； too…a trait not to be overlooked…but I am trying to make you a better fighter。 The next thing you fight against may not be a brutish Hune but an armored man。 Now； take your new sword and hit me。
He kicked the branch to Simon and lifted his own weapon。 Simon held the tree limb before him and circled slowly。 The Rimmersman was right： the snowy ground was treacherous。 Before he could even take a swing at his instructor； his feet went out from under him and he toppled heavily onto his rump。 He remained there； scowling furiously。
〃Don't be embarrassed；〃 Sludig said； taking a step forward and laying the end of his cudgel against Simon's chest。 〃When you fall down…and men do trip and stumble in battle…make sure and keep your blade up or you may not live to resume the fight。〃
Seeing the sense in this； Simon grunted and shoved the Rimmersman's branch away with his hand before getting onto his knees。 He then rose to his feet once more and resumed his crablike circling。
〃Why are you doing that？〃 Sludig said。 〃Why do you not swing at me？〃
〃Because you're faster than I am。 〃
〃Good。 You are right。 〃 As he finished speaking； Sludig snapped his cudgel out； landing a smarting blow below Simon's ribs。 〃But you must stay balanced at all times。 I caught you with your feet crossed one over the other。〃 He aimed another blow； but this time Simon was able to twist his body out of the way； then return a swing of his own which Sludig deflected toward the ground。
〃Now you are learning； Warrior Simon！〃 Binabik called。 He sat beside the young fire； scratching Qantaqa's neck as he watched the cudgel…play。 It was hard to tell whether it was due to the scratching or to the spectacle of Simon being thrashed； but the wolf seemed to be enjoying herself immensely： her tongue hung from her grinning mouth and her brushy tail twitched in pleasure。
Simon and the Rimmersman worked for about an hour。 Simon did not land a single blow； but received quite a few in return。 When he at last flopped down to rest on a flat stone by the fire…circle； he was more than willing to take a swallow of kangkang from Binabik's bag。 He was willing to take a second swallow as well； and would have taken a third； but Binabik retrieved the skin bag。
〃I would be doing no friendliness if I let you drink yourself drunken； Simon；〃 the troll said firmly。
〃It's just because my ribs ache。〃
〃You have youth and will be fast healing；〃 Binabik replied。 〃I am； in a way； in responsibility for your care。〃
Simon made a face but did not argue。 It was nice that someone cared about him； he supposed； even if he did not entirely agree with the form that caring took。
Two more days of cold riding along the skirts of the Trollfells…as well as two more evenings of what the recipient began to think of as 〃scullion smacking〃…did not do much to brighten Simon's view of the world。 Many times during his instruction； as he sat on the soggy ground feeling some new pan of his body throb into painful prominence； he considered telling Sludig he was no longer interested； but the memory of Haestan's pale face inside his winding cloth forced him onto his feet once more。 The guardsman had wanted Simon to learn these things； to be able to defend himself and also to help defend others。 Haestan had never been able to quite explain the way he felt…the Erkynlander had not been a man given to aimless talking…but he had often said that 〃strong folk a…bullyin' th'weak〃 was not right。
Simon thought back on Fengbald； Elias' ally。 He had taken a troop of armored men and burned down a district of his own earldom； sla