And then it was dawn. Fat Satan was halfway up the sky, and feverish light as red and cold as Dirk's nightmares was flooding through a tall stained-glass window (predominantly clear in its center, but bordered all around with an intricate pattern of somber red-brown and smoky gray) to fall across his face. He rolled away from it and struggled to sit up, and Jaan Vikary appeared, offering the canteen.

Dirk took several long swallows, almost choking on the cold water and letting some of it splash over his dry, chapped lips and trickle down his chin. The canteen had been full when Jaan handed it to him; he gave it back half empty. "You found water," he said.

Vikary sealed up the canteen again and nodded. "The pumping stations have been closed for years, so there is no fresh water in the towers of Kryne Lamiya. Yet the canals still run. I went down last night while you and Gwen were sleeping."

Dirk rose to his feet unsteadily, and Vikary lent a hand to help him out of the sunken bed. "Is Gwen…?"

"She regained consciousness early in the night, t'Larien. We spoke together, and I told her what I had done. I think she will recover soon enough."

"Can I talk to her?"

"She is resting now, sleeping normally. Later I am sure she will want to speak to you, but at the moment I do" not think you should wake her. She tried to sit up last night and grew very unsteady and finally nauseous."

Dirk nodded. "I see. What about you? Get any sleep?" As he spoke, he looked around their quarters. The Darkdawn music had shrunken somehow. It still sounded, still wailed and moaned and permeated the very air of Kryne Lamiya; but to his ears it seemed fainter and more distant, so perhaps he was finally getting used to it, learning to tune it out of his conscious hearing. The light-murals, like the glowstones of Larteyn, had faded and died at the touch of normal sunlight; the walls were gray and empty. What furnishings there were-a few uncomfortable-looking chairs -flowed from the walls and floor: twisting extrusions that matched the color and tone of the chamber so well that they were almost invisible.

"I have slept enough," Vikary was saying. "That is not important. I have been considering our position." He gestured. "Come."

They walked through another chamber, an empty dining room, and out onto one of the many balconies that overlooked the Darkdawn city. By day, Kryne Lamiya was different, less despairing; even Worlorn's wan sunlight was enough to put a sparkle on the swift-flowing waters of the canals, and in the daylong twilight the pale towers were less sepulchral.

Dirk was weak and very hungry, but his headache had gone and the brisk wind felt good against his face. He brushed his hair-knotted and hopelessly filthy– back from his eyes and waited for Jaan to begin.

"I watched from here during the night," Vikary said, with his elbows on the cold railing and his eyes searching the horizon. "They are searching for us, t'Larien. Twice I glimpsed aircars above the city. The first time it was only a light, high in the distance, so perhaps I was wrong. Yet the second could be no mistake. The wolf-head car of Chell's flying near to ground level over the canals, with a searchlight of some sort attached. It passed quite close. There was a hound also. I heard it howling, all wild at the Darkling music."

"They didn't find us," Dirk said.

"In truth," Vikary replied. "I think we are safe enough here, for a while. Unless– I am not sure how they found you in Challenge, and that gives me a fear. If they track us to Kryne Lamiya and comb the city with Braith hounds, our danger will be severe. We have no null-scent now." He looked at Dirk. "How did they know where you had fled? Do you have any ideas?"

"No," said Dirk. "No one knew. Certainly no one followed. Maybe they just guessed. It was the most logical choice, after all. Living was more comfortable in Challenge than in any of the other cities. Easier. You know."

"Yes, I know. I do not accept your theory, however. Remember, t'Larien, Garse and I considered this problem too, when you left us shamed and deserted at the death-square. Challenge was the most obvious choice, and therefore the least logical, we felt. It seemed more likely that you would go to Musquel and live off what fish you could take, or that Gwen would forage for you both in the wilds she knew so well. Garse even suggested that you might simply have hidden the aircar and remained in some other section of Larteyn itself, so you could laugh at us while we searched the planet for you."

Dirk fidgeted. "Yes. Well, I suppose our choice was stupid."

"No, t'Larien, I did not say that. The only stupid choice, I think, would have been to flee to the City in the Starless Pool, where the Braiths were known to be thick. Challenge was a subtle choice, whether you intended it to be that or not. It seemed such a wrong choice that it was actually a right one. Do you understand? I cannot see how the Braiths discovered you by any process of deduction."

"Maybe," Dirk said. He thought a bit. "I remember the first we knew of it was when Bretan spoke to us. He– Well, he wasn't testing a theory, either. He knew we were there, somewhere."

"Yet you have no idea how?"

"No. No idea."

"We shall have to live with the fear that they can find us here, then. Otherwise, unless the Braiths can repeat their miracle, we are secure.

"Understand, though, that our position is not without difficulties. We have shelter and unlimited water, but no food to speak of. Our ultimate exit-we must go to the spaceport and leave Worlorn as soon as possible, I have concluded-our ultimate exit is going to be very difficult. The Braiths will anticipate us. We have my laser pistol, and two hunting lasers that I found in the aircar. Plus the vehicle itself, armed and well armored, probably belonging to Roseph high-Braith Kelcek-"

"One of the derelicts in the airlot is still marginally functional," Dirk interjected.

"Then we have two aircars, should we need them," Vikary said. "Against us, at least eight of the Braith hunters still live, and probably nine. I am not sure how seriously I wounded Lorimaar Arkellor. It is possible that I killed him, though I am inclined to doubt it. The Braiths can probably put eight aircars in the sky at once, if they choose to, although it is more traditional to fly together, teyn-and-teyn. Every car will be armored. They have supplies, power, food. They outnumber us. Possibly, since I am an outbond duel-breaker, they will prevail upon Kirak Redsteel Cavis and the two hunters from the Shanagate Holding to join them in running me down. Finally, there is Garse Janacek."

"Garse?"

"I hope-I pray-that he will cut the glowstones from his arm and return to High Kavalaan. He will be shamed, alone, wearing dead iron. No easy fate, t'Larien. I have disgraced him, and Ironjade. I am sorry for his pain, yet this is how I hope it will be. For there is another possibility, you see."

"Another…?"

"He may hunt for us. He cannot leave Worlorn until a ship comes. That will be some time. I do not know what he will do."

"Surely he won't join the Braiths. They're his enemies, and you are his teyn, and Gwen his cro-betheyn. He might want to kill me, I don't doubt it, but-"

"Garse is more a Kavalar than me, t'Larien. He always has been. And now more than ever, since I am no Kavalar at all after the thing I have done. The old customs require a man's teyn, no less than any other, to bring death to a duel-breaker. It is a custom that only the very strong can follow. The bond of iron-and-fire is too close for most, so they are left alone to mourn. Yet Garse Janacek is a very strong man, stronger than myself in so many ways. I do not know. I do not know."

"And if he does come after us?"

Vikary spoke calmly. "I will not raise a weapon against Garse. He is my teyn, whether I am his or no, and I have hurt him badly enough already, failed him, shamed him. He has worn a painful scar through most of his adult life because of me. Once, when we were both younger, an older man took offense at one of his jokes and issued challenge. The mode was single-shot and we fought teyned, and in my less-than-infinite wisdom I convinced Garse that our honor would be served if we fired into the air. We did, to our regret. The others decided to teach Garse a lesson about humor. To my shame, I was left untouched while he was disfigured for my folly.