"Fighting demons is work for all of us, Master Tolmas," said Shikrar quietly.

"Except for Berys," snapped Rickard. "He's the one that called that abomination down on us."

"How do you know?" replied Tolmas, undeterred. "And how did you escape and all? We thought all the Magistri were killed."

"I am the last," said Rickard, his face stony. "To answer your question, Tolmas, I escaped because I was suspicious, and when I saw the armed guards at the doors, ere ever the Archimage arrived, I ran. I am a rank coward but I live. Are you answered?"

I winced for him. He was a straight arrow, sure enough, but I didn't see the need for truth that stark. Maybe I could give him lying lessons.

'Then how do you know this was all Berys's doing?" snarled Tolmas, speaking still for the crowd.

"He doesn't. I do," said the tall lad.

"Aye, and who in all the Hells are you anyroad?" demanded Tolmas.

I heard rather than saw a slight movement at the back of the crowd. Will, Vilkas, and Aral had arrived, and behind them Varien and Lanen were moving swiftly towards us.

"M'name's Chalmik," said the lad sullenly. I couldn't blame him. Never mind sullen, I'd have been furious if some loudmouth had been annoying me after I'd fought for my life, but I think he was too weary for it. "I've been at the College for four years. I was to take my warrant exams next month. Wasn't doing too badly either." He glanced behind him and said laconically, "Not too many warrants going to come out of there, now, are there?"

"Was it really Berys?" asked a new voice. "Did you see him?" This was an older woman. Her voice trembled, poor soul. They had all trusted him.

"Yes, it was really Berys, him that was the Archimage." Chalmik's voice rose and he pitched it to carry to the back of the crowd. I was impressed. "He showed up wearing robes with demon symbols on 'em, asked us students if we wanted to side with him and the demons, and when we refused he called up his little pets and threw them at us while he laughed," said Chalmik. "I've never seen such coldhearted evil in my life. Oh, it was Berys alright, in the flesh and twice as ugly. And if I ever see him again, by the Lady's hand I swear I'll kill him."

Jamie murmured, "Get in line, lad," but very, very quietly.

"What did the dragon have to do with it?" someone cried. Oh, well, yes, it might have been me. Caught up in the moment. As it were.

The corner of Chalmik's eye shivered, but he never did so crass a thing as wink. "We were all gathered in the main hall, trying to get through doors that had been locked with sorcery. We were about to choose whether we'd rather be cooked in the fire or eaten raw by the demon when some voice the size of a mountain calls out to stand away and we saw this huge claw come through the wood like it was so much paper." He grinned back at Shikrar. 'We thought it was another demon at first, but it pulled the doors off and let us out. If we'd been in there another minute, we'd all have died. My word to the Lady on it. He saved us."

A middle-aged woman moved out of the main crowd then. She was short and stout, but with a bright eye and a kind, worried, very pale face. It didn't take a Healer to realise that she was in shock. Ignoring Magister Rikard, she walked straight up to Chalmik and laid her hand on his arm. "My daughter is a student. She's done really well in her Healers work. Magistra Erthik said she'd be a fine worker with women and babes." The woman glanced along the scant faces of the score of students, her eyes seeking desperately what her heart knew was not there. "I don't see her. Her name's Elishbet. Please—please—where are the others? Where is my daughter?"

Chalmik, that great gawk of an awkward young man, leaned down and took the woman's hands in his, calmly. "She's gone to the Goddess, Mother," he said, gazing straight into her desolate eyes. "I'm so terribly sorry." His voice shook then, but only for an instant. "Elishbet was a friend of mine. You should be proud of her. She was a damn fine Healer."

The woman nodded once to him, stood motionless for a moment, then went over to Shikrar. Chalmik followed, at a discreet distance. So did we all.

Shikrar regarded her gravely. She stared at him. "You killed the demon, did you?"

"I did, Lady," he said simply.

"You're not even scratched."

"I was badly wounded," he answered, hearing the accusation under the statement. 'Two of the students honoured me and healed me last night. If you care to look, you will find the new scale on my back and my right flank. It is lighter in colour than the rest."

He shifted himself so that she could see. She went right up to him and touched the new scale, noting the extent of it. It covered half his back, but at that moment it was her bravery that wrung my heart. "That's a right bad wound, sure enough. But perhaps you don't feel pain like we do."

"Despite the healing I feel it even now, Lady, I assure you," he said, keeping his voice level. "If the students had not been so kind to me I would be in agony for many moons to come, at the very best."

She stared up at him. "They had to heal you so you could kill the thing?"

"No. I killed it first."

"But you didn't kill it before it killed all the other Mages," she said, anger rising with every word. "You didn't kill it before it murdered my daughter, damn you!" She balled up her fists and struck out at him as hard as she could, again and again, putting her back into it, beating out her pain on that dark bronze hide. You could see that he barely felt it.

The crowd shivered but Shikrar ignored them. He lowered his great head to the level of her eyes, slowly, so as not to frighten her, and he spoke as gently as he might and still be heard.

"Lady, my only child still lives, so I cannot know your pain: but I swear on my soul that I destroyed the Raksha the instant I could. I am not a god." At that she stopped striking him and looked up, into those huge eyes so near her own. Shikrar's red soulgem blazed in the morning light. "I am not some beast out of legend, with magical powers to change the way things are. I am a creature of this world, like you, flesh and blood. I can fail, like you. I did what I could. If I could turn back time and save every single soul who died last night, I would do it, were it to cost my own life— but I cannot, and such words are empty. I grieve for your loss, Lady, as I do for all those whose loved ones are gone to the Winds, but I am not responsible for it. You must look to Berys for that."

She stared at him still, not even seeming to notice that she was starting to shake. Chalmik moved up to stand beside her. "Mother, come, let me help you, you're in shock—"

"I'm not your mother," she snapped. "My child is dead." Her anger gave her just enough strength to turn away from Shikrar, but at her first step her knees gave way. Chalmik caught her as if he had been expecting it and half led, half carried her gently away.

That was the turning point. It was as if a string had been cut, or a spell released. The crowd let out its collective breath. Those who had no one to look for drifted away. Of the rest, some few went to speak with Magister Rikard, but most moved forlornly towards the ruins of the College and started to shift the rubble.

It is such a human thing. Even when we think all hope is gone we still look, not able to understand such devastation and death, not willing to let such a terrible disaster be real all at once. We look, just in case there might be someone trapped, someone escaped by some miracle, who still needs our help, every slightest noise shattering through us as hope tries to return in the face of terrible tragedy, as we listen for what we know will not come— but we cannot help it. It is in our bones. Move stone. Shift rubble. Dig down to ground level. Look for survivors.