“I, a betrayer? What of yourself, Dasie? Do not you and your magic belong to your kin-clan? Yet here you are, with a mongrel horde of followers, rising up against the People. By what authority do you do this? Your kin-clan gave birth to you. They have poured their resources into making you great. You should care first for their interests rather than making this grand grab for power you are not capable of wielding.”

She laughed. “You think that is what this is about, Kinrove? You think that I seek to tear you from your dais and take your place? I care nothing for the power you wield. I do not want to be what you are. My care is for the People, and not just the folk of my own kin-clan, but all who have been forced into slavery by your dance.”

“Again, you fool, it is not I who have called them to dance but the magic! Will you defy the magic?”

“I will defy your magic! Each one of the folk that I rescue will be given a little necklace of iron chain to wear. You will not be able to summon them back! Show him, Tread.”

At her command, one of the warriors menacing Kinrove lowered his sword. With his free hand, he pulled the collar of his leather shirt open to reveal the little iron chain he wore around his neck. “Your magic cannot command me, Kinrove,” he said quietly.

Kinrove’s eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets and his face grew red. “You, a Great One of the People, will pollute us with iron? Do you know what you do, bringing that foul metal among us? Do you know how you will cripple your own magic as well as all magic to follow you?”

Dasie lifted her arms and slid back the sleeves of her robe to expose her pale arms. The folds of flesh on her arms hung slack and empty. “I know what iron costs me! For the past month, I’ve lived with iron! I’ve known its burn every day. And I know what magic costs. I’ve consumed nearly all I had simply to come here and take back from you what belongs to every member of the People. If you manage to kill me before I depart here, it will still have been worth it, Kinrove. I would not mind dying if my kin-clan remember me as the Great One who chose to use her magic to free them from you! Even if I had to use iron to do it.”

“You think you’ve freed our people?” Kinrove dragged himself upright, closer to the menacing blades. He drew in a deep breath with difficulty. I think only his anger gave him the strength to go on. Before my very eyes, he seemed to be diminishing. “You are selfish and stupid, then. You’ve killed our people. You disrupted the dance. Without the onslaught of the magic, the intruders will find their wills again. Do you think they will wait until spring to attack our trees, to come into our forest to try to find us and destroy us? No. By this time tomorrow, their iron will be biting into our trees. Our ancestors will be falling, and the invasion of our forest will have begun!”

“The winter will hold them at bay!” Dasie asserted. “That is why I chose to act now. The cold and the snows will immobilize them. We have time, not much time, but some. Time to rally ourselves, time to take up arms and move against them in a way they will understand. How many years have our people danced, and danced in vain? The intruders haven’t left. And they won’t, Kinrove, not while all we do is dance fear and discouragement at them. The fear and discouragement, they have lived with and battled. It has not made them leave. They will leave only when they know that if they stay, they will die. That is the dance they will understand.”

Kinrove’s voice thickened, and I was surprised to see the glitter of tears in his eyes. “You have killed us all, Dasie. You do not know the Jhernians. They are like stinging ants or angry wasps. You can kill one or you can kill a dozen. You can kill a hundred. But so long as the hive exists, more will come. And they will be angry. I sent them a magic they did not understand, and for years that held them back. If you go to kill them with weapons, yes, that will be a war they will understand. And it is a war they are very, very good at waging.”

Dasie scarcely seemed to be paying attention to him. I think the demands of her body had temporarily overwhelmed her. I could not even imagine how much magic she had burned to accomplish this. I do know that Soldier’s Boy watched her with avid envy as she walked over to the food tables. She took food from the dishes there and ate, without discrimination or grace, but with only the drive to replenish herself. It reminded me of a horse drinking after a long day’s ride. She made a brusque gesture at one of her feeders, and he quickly filled a pipe for her. He held it for her, and from time to time she took it from him, pulling long draws from the pipe in between mouthfuls of food. For a time, an odd silence held in the pavilion. From outside the pavilion, we could hear chaotic voices, shouted commands, and occasional cries of joy.

Soldier’s Boy kept as still as a small animal hiding in deep grass. He glanced over at Jodoli. Sweat was running down the sides of his face and he looked ill. His eyes were glassy and his mouth hung open. He looked back at Kinrove, who was weeping openly now.

Dasie turned away from the table at last. She looked around at us all. In her two hands, she held a round of dark brown bread. “What should I do with you?” she asked Kinrove. “I do not wish to kill you. I think that if you will agree to leave off this mad dance, you could still be of great use to your kin-clan. And even more use to me, if you would help me. But I don’t know if I can trust you. I thought of making you swallow a little pellet of iron, or shooting some into your body. I’ve heard that can destroy a Great One’s magic completely. I don’t wish to do that to you. Or to Jodoli. But I have to be sure that neither of you are plotting against me behind my back. If you will not help me, I at least need to know that you will not hinder me.”

“You have destroyed my dance.” Kinrove drew a deep, shuddering breath. “My dance is broken. I will need whatever magic I can rebuild to save my own kin-clan. You have condemned the People. I will not have the power to save them. But I will do what I can to keep at least my kin-clan safe.” He struggled for another breath. Almost reflexively, he glanced toward his feeder, Galea. She stood, hands clasped before her, her face tensed in an agony of fear for him. He took another breath. “Dasie, I will not hinder you,” he said quietly. “I will not permit any of my kin-clan to hinder you. By the magic, I swear this.”

“Put your swords away,” she said quietly to the men who surrounded him, and they sheathed their weapons. She glanced at Galea. “You may tend to your Great One,” she told her, and the woman snatched a bowl of food from the table and raced to his side. Other feeders followed her, surrounding Kinrove, wiping the sweat from his brow with cool, damp cloths, offering water, wine, and delicacies, and all the while exclaiming with dismay at how his magic had been drained by the iron.

Dasie had turned her attention to Jodoli. “And you?” she asked him severely. “Will you try to stop me from what I must do?”

Jodoli was not without his pride nor did he lack intelligence. His head had sunk forward onto his chest. Sweat ran freely down the sides of his face and his robe was drenched with it. He rolled his head back on his shoulders and looked up at her as she stood over him. His eyes were horribly bloodshot. “Can you believe,” he wheezed out, “anything a man says when a sword is at his chest?”

She stared at him. Then she made a curt gesture, and her warrior moved the tip of his blade away from Jodoli’s chest. Jodoli’s breathing eased but he still said nothing to her.

Dasie did not have the stomach for it. She gestured angrily at the feeders and servers who huddled still along the wall. “Come to him! Bring him water and food.” Then she turned back to Jodoli. “I ask you, by the magic, to tell me the truth; do you intend to hinder me in any way?”