They stood tautly facing each other in the thin chill moonlight. The wind blew and blew, whining between the empty ruins of houses, blowing the dust of their erosion along the empty street. "I know your old Imperial towns," said Alfric savagely. "I've seen them, moldering shells, half the place deserted because the population has shrunk so far--wearily dreaming of a dead past, grubbing up the old works and sitting with noses buried in the old books, while robbers howl in the deserts and thieving politicians loot the treasury. Year by year, the towns crumble, bridges fall, canals dry up, people grow fewer--and nobody cares. A world is blowing away in red dust, and nobody stirs to help. By the winds of Ruho, it's about time someone pulled down that tottering wreck you call Imperial civilization! It's about time we forgot the past and started thinking--and doing--something about the present. The man who burns Valkarion will be doing the world a service!" Silence, under the wind and the stars and the two moons marching toward their union. Hildaborg hefted her spear until the point gleamed near Alfric's throat. He sneered, out of bitterness and despair and a sudden longing for her lips. "Don't try to stick me with that toy. You saw what happened to the guards." "And you would kill me?" Her voice was all at once desolate; she dropped the spearhead to the ground. "No. But I would leave you--no, by the Holy Well, I wouldn't. But I'd leave the damned city." He stepped forward, laying his hands on her mailed shoulders, and his voice rang with sudden earnestness. "Hildaborg, that is your answer. No need to stay in this place of death. We can steal hengists and bluff our way past the gates and be in the hills ere dawn. If you fear for Valkarion at my hands, leave it--leave it to rot and come with me." "Come--where?" "Home, back to Aslak. Back to the blue hills and the windy trees and the little lakes dancing in the sun--to an open heaven and a wide land and free folk who look you honestly in the eye. Luigur take the Empire, as he will whatever we do." He laughed, a joyous sound echoing in the night. "We'll build our own stead and live as freefolk and raise a dozen tall sons. Hildaborg, let's go!" For a moment she stood silent. When she spoke, her voice trembled a little, and the moonlight glinted off tears in her eyes. "I love you for it, Alfric, and gladly would go. But Therokos is besieging the palace--he is gathering in all who ever spoke well of me ... shall my friends be hanged and burned and hacked to bits, and I safe in Aslak?" "You're a fool. What could you do for them?" "Die. But this is no quarrel of yours, Alfric. If you wish, go, and I shall not think of the less of you. Go--my dearest--" He laughed again, and kissed her for a very long moment. "You are a fool and a madwoman, and I love you for that," he said. "Come--we can still show these priests the color of steel!" IV