'Very good.' The voice, male and young, came out of the shadows somewhere; novalley floor was so jumbled with stones as this once-courtyard of Eaglebeak.'Now get on your horse and ride back to Sanctuary.'

'I will not. You have something for me.'

'Walk over to the acacia tree, then, and look towards Sanctuary.'

'I will walk over to the tree and watch the saddlebags, thanks, thief. If youshow up without that rod ...'

Bourne did that, and the shadows seemed to cough up a man, young and lean anddarkly dressed. The crescent moon was behind him so that Bourne could not seehis face. The fellow pounced lithely atop a stone, and held high the stolenSavankh.

'I see it.'

'Good. Walk back to your horse, then. I will put this down when I pick up thebags.'

Bourne hesitated, shrugged, and began ambling towards his horse. Hanse, thinkingthat he was very clever indeed and wanting all that money in his hands, droppedfrom his granite dais and hurried to the bags. Sliding his right arm through theconnecting strap, he laid down the rod he carried in his left. That was whenBourne turned around and charged. While he demonstrated how fast a big burly manin mail-coat could move, he also showed what a dishonest rascal he was. Down hisback, inside his mail-shirt, on a thong attached to the camel-hair torque hewore, was a sheath. As he charged, he drew a dagger long as his forearm.

His quarry saw that the weight of the silver combined with Bourne's momentummade trying to run not only stupid, but suicidal. Still, he was young, and athief: supple, clever, and fast. Bourne showed teeth, thinking this boy wasfrozen with shock and fear. Until Hanse moved, fast as the lizards scuttlingamong these great stones. The saddlebags slam-jingled into Bourne's right arm,and the knife flew away while he was knocked half around. Hanse managed to hangon to his own balance; he bashed the Hell Hound in the back with his ransom.Bourne fell sprawling. Hanse ran - for Bourne's horse. He knew Bourne couldoutrun him so long as he was laden with the bags, and he was not about to partwith them. In a few bounds, he gained a great rock and from there pounced on tothe horse's back, just as he'd seen others do. It was Hanse's first attempt tomount a horse. Inexperience and the weight of his ransom carried him right offthe other side.

In odd silence, he rose, on the far side of the horse. Not cursing as anyonemight expect. Here came Bourne, and his fist sprouted fifteen inches of sharpiron. Hanse drew Bourne's other dagger from the sheath on the saddle and threwthe small flat knife from his buckskin. Bourne went low and left, and the knifeclattered among the stumbled stones of Eaglebeak. Bourne kept moving in,attacking under the horse. Hanse struck at him with his own dagger. To avoidlosing his face. Bourne had to fall. Under the horse. Hanse failed to check hisswipe, and his dagger nicked the inside of the horse's left hind leg.

The animal squealed, bucked, kicked, tried to gallop. Ruins barred him, and heturned back just as Bourne rose. Hanse was moving away fast, hugging onesaddlebag to him and half-dragging the other. Bourne and his horse ran into eachother. One of them fell backwards and the other reared, neighed, pranced - andstood still, as if stricken with guilt. The other, downed painfully in mail forthe second time in two minutes, cursed horse, Hanse, luck, gods, and himself.And began getting up.

However badly it had been handled, Bourne had horse, sword, and a few pacesaway, the rod of Rankan authority. Hanse had more silver than would compriseBourne's retirement. Under its weight he could not hope to escape. He could dropit and run or be overtaken. Dragging sword from sheath. Bourne hoped the roachkept running. What fun to carve him for the next hour or so!

Hanse was working at a decision, too, but none of it fell out that way. Perhapshe should have done something about trying to buy off a god or two; perhaps heshould have taken better note of the well, this afternoon, and not run that waytonight. He discovered it too late. He fell in.

He was far less aware of the fall than of utter disorientation - and of beingbanged in every part of his body, again and again, by the sides of the well,which were brick, and by the saddlebags. When his elbow struck the bricks, thebags were gone. Hanse didn't notice their splash; he was busy crashing intosomething that wasn't water. And he was hurting.

The well's old wooden platform of a cover and sawhorse affair had fallen downinside, or been so hurled by vandals or ghosts. They weren't afloat, thosepieces of very old, damp wood; they were braced across the well, at a slant.Hanse hit, hurt, scrabbled, clung. His feet were in water, and his shins. Thewood creaked. The well's former cover deflected the head-sized stone Bournehurled down. The fist-sized one he next threw struck the well's wall, bounced toroll down Hanse's back, caught a moment at his belt, and dropped into the water.The delay in his hearing the splash led Bourne to misconstrue the well's depth.Hanse clung and dangled. The water was cold.

In the circle of dim light above, Hanse saw Bourne's helmeted head. Bourne,peering down into a well, saw nothing.

'If you happen to be alive, thief, keep the saddlebags! No one will ever findyou or them - or the Savankh you stole! You treacherously tricked us all, yousee, and fled with both ransom and Savankh. Doubtless I will be chastisedseverely by His pretty Highness - and once I'm in Ranke again, I'll be rewarded!You have been a fool and a tool, boy, because I've friends back home in Rankewho will be delighted by the way / have brought embarrassment and shame onPrince Kittycat!'

Hanse, hurting and scared that the wood would yield, played dead. Strange howcold water could be, forty feet down in a brick-walled shaft!

Grinning, Bourne walked over and picked up the Savankh, which His stupidHighness would never see. He shoved it into his belt. Stuck his sword into theground. And began wrestling a huge stone to drop, just in case, down the well.His horse whickered. Bourne, who had left his sword several feet away, froze. Hestraightened and turned to watch the approach of two helmeted men. They borenaked swords. One was a soldier. The other was - the Prince-Governor?!

'We thank you for letting us hear your confession. Bourne, traitor.'

Bourne moved. He gained his sword. No slouch and no fool, he slashed the moredangerous enemy. For an instant the soldier's mail held Bourne's blade. Then theman crumpled. The blade came free and Bourne spun, just in time to catch theprince's slash in the side. Never burly, K-adakithis had learned that he had toput everything he had behind his practice strokes just so that his opponentswould notice. He did that now, so wildly and viciously that his blade toreseveral links of Bourne's mail-coat and relocated them in his flesh. Bourne madean awful noise. Horribly shocked and knowing he was hurt, he decided it werebest to fly. He staggered as he ran, and the prince let him go.

Kadakithis picked up the fallen rod of authority and slapped it once against hisleather-clad leg. His heart beat unconscionably rapidly as he knelt to help thetrusted man he'd brought with him. That was not necessary. In falling, the poorwight had smashed his head open on a chunk of marble from a statue. Slain by agod. Kadakithis glanced after Bourne, who had vanished in darkness and theruins.

The Prince-Governor stood thinking. At last he went to the well. He knelt andcalled down into blackness.

'I am Prince Kadakithis. I have the wand. Perhaps I speak uselessly to one deador dying. Perhaps not, in which case you may remain there and die slowly, or bedrawn up to die under torture, or ... you can agree to help me in a little planI have just devised. Well - speak up!'