Behind them he saw the dog-slave, creeping closer on its chain.

Everyone looked at Jormanric.

He moved instantly. He pulled a thick ugly knife and the sword from his back, and was on

Keiro before anyone could yell.

Finn leaped away; Keiro's sword flashed up by instinct and the blades clanged.

Jormanric's face was red with rage, the blood pulsing in the thick veins of his neck. Right into Keiro's face he spat, "You're dead, boy." Then he attacked.

The Comitatus howled with delight; they whooped and closed around in a tight ring, clashing weapons, stamping in unison. They loved to see bloodshed and most of them had felt the whiplash of Keiro's arrogance; now they'd see him brought down. Finn was shoved heedlessly aside; he tried to slash a space, but Gildas hauled him away. "Stay back!"

"Hell be killed!"

"If he is, it's no loss."

Keiro was fighting for his life. He was young and fit, but Jormanric was twice his weight, old in warcraft, berserk with a battle frenzy that came on him rarely. He hacked at Keiro's face, at his arms, following up with quick slashes of the knife. Keiro staggered back, colliding with one of the Comitatus, who shoved him heartlessly again into the ring; off balance, he nailed forward, and Jormanric struck.

"No!" Finn yelled.

The blade sliced across Keiro's chest; he whipped his face aside with a gasp. A spatter of blood hit the crowd.

Finn had his own knife ready to throw, but there was no chance; the fighters were too far and Keiro concentrating too hard to glance away. A hand caught Finns arm; in his ear Gildas murmured, "Back off toward the shaft. No one will see us go."

Finn was too dismayed to answer. Instead he pulled away and tried to shove into the center of the ring, but a great arm slid around his neck. "No cheating, brother." Arko's breath stank of ket.

Despairing, Finn watched. Keiro could never survive this. He was already cut on the leg and wrist; shallow nicks but bleeding freely. Jormanric's eyes were glazed, his ket-stained teeth set in a bared grin. His onslaught was a barrage of violence; he fought without fear or self-awareness, sparks clashing from the blades.

Breathless, Keiro flicked one look of terror sideways; Finn struggled and kicked to get to him. Jormanric roared, a howl of savagery that set all his men yelling encouragement; he took one step forward and swung his sword in an arc of whipping steel.

And staggered.

For a moment, just a second, he was off balance. Then he fell, a crashing, inexplicable fall, his feet whipped behind him, tangled in a chain that slid between the feet of the crowd, looped around a pair of filthy hands muffled in rags.

Keiro leaped on him. He slammed a bone-crunching blow down on the Winglord's mailed back; Jormanric howled in fury and pain.

The shouts of the Comitatus died abruptly. Arko let go of Finn.

Keiro was white with strain but he didn't stop. As Jormanric rolled, he stamped on the

Winglord's left arm; it cracked, an ominous sound. The knife spilled onto the floor.

Jormanric heaved himself up to his knees, head down, groaning over his shattered arm, swaying.

From the corner of his eye Finn saw a commotion in the crowd; the dog-creature was being hauled out. He squirmed toward it as it was kicked and cursed, but even as he got there one of its tormentors fell, doubled up by a blow from Gildas's staff. "I'll deal with this," the Sapient roared. "Stop them before someone dies!"

Finn swung back, in time to see Keiro kick Jormanric full in the face.

The Winglord still clung to his sword, but another callous blow to the head laid him out; he crashed spread-eagle, a pool of blood at nose and mouth.

The crowd was silent.

Keiro flung his head back and screamed with triumph.

Finn stared. His oathbrother was transformed. His eyes were bright, his hair sweat-dark and slicked to his scalp, his hands streaked with blood. He seemed taller, glowing with a sleek and concentrated energy that scorched away all weariness; he raised his head and stared around at them all, a raw, blind unrecognizable stare, seeing nothing, challenging everything.

Then, deliberately, he turned back, put the point of his blade to the vein in Jormanric's neck, and pushed.

"Keiro," Finns voice was sharp. "Don't."

Keiro's eyes swung to him. For a moment it seemed as if he had to struggle to recognize who had spoken. Then he said hoarsely, "He's finished. I'm Winglord now."

"Don't kill him. You don't want his pitiful little kingdom." Finn held his gaze steadily. "You never did. Outside, that's what you want. Nowhere else is big enough for us."

Down the shaft, as if in answer, a warm breeze drifted.

For a moment Keiro stared at Finn, then at Jormanric. "Give this up?"

"For more. For everything."

"A lot to ask, brother." Looking down, he lifted the sword blade away, slowly. The Winglord took a deep ragged breath. And then with one vicious jerk Keiro stabbed the sword down into Jormanric's open palm.

The Winglord howled and flailed. Pinned to the ground he convulsed with agony and wrath, but Keiro knelt and began to tug the liferings from his fingers, the thick skull-faced bands.

"Leave them!" Gildas's yell came from behind them. "The Prison!"

Finn looked up. Lights exploded on around him, flared red. A thousand Eyes winked open. Alarms broke out into a terrible ululating scream.

It was a Lockdown.

The Comitatus split, pushed, fragmented into a panicking mob, and as the wall slots slid open and light cannon flashed, they were fleeing, Jormanric's bleeding agony ignored.

Finn hauled Keiro away. "Forget them!"

Keiro shook his head, shoved three rings inside his jerkin. "Go! Go!"

A croak from behind. "Did you think I killed the woman, Finn?"

Finn turned.

Jormanric squirmed in pain. He spat the words like venom. "Not true. Ask your brother.

Your stinking, treacherous brother. Ask him why she died."

Laserfire flickered like steel rods between them. For a second Finn couldn't move; then

Keiro was back, yanking him down. Sprawled on the filthy floor they crawled toward the shaft. The corridor was a sparking grid of energy; efficiently Incarceron restored order, slammed down grilles and doors, emitted a hiss of foul-smelling yellow gas into the enclosed tunnels.

"Where is he?"

"There." Finn saw Gildas scrambling over bodies; he was dragging the dog-slave, its chains swaying and tripping him. Snatching the sword from Keiro, Finn pulled the creature toward him and hacked at the rusty manacles. The sharp blade severed them instantly. He looked up and saw brown eyes, bright in the ragged bindings around the face.

"Leave it! It's diseased." Keiro shouldered past, flinched at a burst of fire that seared the roof, and jumped for the ladder. In seconds he was racing up the darkness of the shaft.

"He's right," Gildas said heavily. "It will slow us."

Finn hesitated. In the uproar and crashing alarms and falling steel he looked back and the eyes of the leprous slave watched him. But it was the Maestra's eyes he saw, her voice that spoke inside his mind.

I will never dare show kindness to a stranger again.

Instantly he stooped, hauled the creature onto his back, and climbed.

Keiro was clattering above, Gildas a wheezing mutter below. As he dragged himself up the rungs, Finn was soon breathless with the weight on his back; the creatures muffled paws gripped him tight, its heels dug into his stomach. He slowed; after thirty rungs he had to stop, breathless, arms like lead. He clung on, gasping.