17th Day of Planting, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy
Caroline didn't want to look at Unru, but she couldn't help herself.
The young woman had sneaked into the Brass Dragon's kitchen to grab herself an evening snack, but nothing she saw seemed to appeal to her. Only one of the servers was on duty, a young man about her age, who seemed quiet and forlorn.
Caroline couldn't blame him. She herself had spent most of the day locked inside her cabin. She hadn't wanted to talk to anyone.
That was all right, though. No one had come knocking.
Now Mrs. Bigfellow just sighed and took a piece of beef jerky. Chewing morosely on the peppery, tough strip of dried beef, she had poured herself a glass of the Dragon's cheapest wine and walked back into the common room
Flond and Unru were sitting at one of the tables. Flond had given Caroline no more than a cursory glance when she had come in, and not even that now. He was slowly holding up a bowl of cold porridge up to Unru's face. Those wide simple eyes regarded this wonder, and then he sniffed at it. A wide smile broke over that bronze-skinned face, and he dove in face-first.
"No," Flond said with (Caroline thought) surprising gentleness. The wizard put the bowl back down on the table and with a napkin, dabbed at Unru's face, helping clean up what the latter's sweeping tongue could not reach. Unru looked at his friend with a hungry, hopeful expression, and his eyes went back to the bowl.
Caroline stood, rooted to the spot and watched.
Flond reached out and tousled Unru's coal-black hair. The first smile Caroline had ever seen on the mage's face riveted Unru's attention as well as her own. Flond took a spoon, put it in Unru's hand, and slowly guided him through the proper motions. He was whispering something to his friend, who apparently understood some of it. Unru began eating, a bit sloppily, but obviously pleased at himself for remembering this crucial skill.
Amazing. He's like a father, Caroline thought.
Then he remembered that Flond, alone among the Sir Dorbin party, actually was one.
Is he thinking about his own son? Caroline wondered. Did he ever do this with him?
She pushed that thought out of her mind. That was none of her business. The idea of a child of her own again clamored for her attention, but she ignored it and continued to watch the scene before her, slowly taking a sip of her wine.
Flond turned in his chair. His usual scowl was back; the smile gone as if it had never existed. His brown eyes raked her over harshly.
"Something you need?"
Caroline gulped down another swallow of wine and gestured towards Unru. "You said you couldn't heal him. What about at Willip?"
Flond gave a barely noticeable nod. "We'll be taking what money we've saved up for our return trip home and applying that towards the price of the healing. It's not enough yet, but we'll make up the difference."
Caroline hesitated, and then inclined her head towards the door. "The, uh… the fire is still going strong out there." She shrugged. "If you'd like, I could take over here for a while, if you'd like to go outside and, um, and…"
Flond let her dangle, then turned away from her with a sneer.
"That's not going to change anything, will it, Lady Bigfellow?"
Caroline took a deep breath and tried to keep the anger from rising up inside of her. I was just trying to help, she thought. She wanted to snap out at Flond; ask him if he really enjoyed being such an irritant or was just hiding behind his cynicism. At the last moment, she realized that wouldn't really help anything, either. She had offered. There was nothing else she could do here.
"I'm sure there isn't, but if you do think of any way I could help, I'll be outside."
There was no response. Flond was now helping Unru to drink out of a wide-lipped goblet.
"I know it must be hard, seeing him like this," Caroline said, as loudly as she dared, "but I know you'll get him healed. You people look out for each other."
She had just opened the door when she heard Flond's voice behind her.
"The wrong wizard died."
She glanced back. Flond was not looking at her. He was watching Unru eagerly drain his juice, watching as some dribbled down the illusionist's chin and into his goatee.
Caroline bit her lip and walked out of the inn.
The pyre was a good quarter mile off, but Caroline could sense its warmth from here. It certainly seemed larger than it needed to be, but she surmised it was just not for practical purposes. As she approached, watching the flames lick upwards towards the stars and listening to the roar of the blaze, she saw Sir Dorbin and his allies.
The six of them were not standing together as they had been earlier but were now spaced around the conflagration in a circle. Each one was standing quietly, apparently absorbed in his or her own thoughts.
Bigfellow approached Wescene, who was closest. The elf turned as Caroline approached.
She looked utterly haggard. Her black hair, straggly and dirty, cascaded carelessly over her face. Numerous bruises and small cuts were visible on both her face and arms. As Caroline understood what had been told to her, Monsrek possessed a ring that enabled him to control the actions of animals to a degree. They had pursued Sbalt and his minions but had never able to get within range of Monsrek's ring. As their attackers pulled away, Monsrek and Wescene, both enabled of tracking skills, continued to trail them. The trail had led southwest, towards the Earldom of Farlyow. However, when their quarry had unexpectedly turned back upon them, the two clerics had been forced to flee for their lives and had barely escaped.
Caroline managed one of her weak smiles and offered her mug. "Swig of bad wine?"
The elf began to shake her head, then apparently reconsidered and took the cup with a smile even feebler than Caroline's. Wescene drained it with one motion, then handed the mug back to her with a nod of thanks. They both turned their attention back to the pyre,
Caroline noticing the two figures lying at its heart. They were almost totally consumed by now.
"We'll recover their ashes, and take them with us back to Aarde," Wescene said.
"That seems like a good thing to do," Caroline heard herself say, and then instantly berated herself for it. She sounded like an idiot even to her own ears. Wescene however, merely nodded.
"Aiclesis wanted so badly to return home, more than any of us," the elf said wistfully, and then shook her head. "I don't know why. I don't even know if he did." She tried a smile at Caroline that failed. "Sitdale knew him better than I."
Wescene turned her attention back to the fire. Caroline looked to her left. Going clockwise, Sitdale was the next person in line.
With a start, Caroline realized she had just been given a message. Wescene wanted privacy but had given Caroline someplace useful to go without offending her. With an embarrassed glance and a final meaningless murmur, she began to walk slowly towards the half-elf.
Sitdale grinned sadly as Caroline approached.
"Ah, do I know my love?" He asked. "She thinks I will open up about Aiclesis more to her proxy than to her." Caroline opened her mouth to protest, but the half-elf shook it away.
"No need, dear Caroline. I'm merely keeping my mouth going to avoid the silence. Pay no attention to anything that comes out of it. All the others want their moments alone with our fallen friends, so I indulge them." He eyed the cup in Caroline's hand. "Any of that left?"
Caroline shook her head with an embarrassed smile. "No. I'm sorry." She gestured back towards the inn. "I'd be happy to go and-"
Sitdale cut her off. "Not necessary. I'll get some myself, shortly. Right now, I'm glad enough for the company." His pale face hardened momentarily. "The solemn position of party miscreant now rests upon my shoulders, at least until Unru can share it with me again."
Caroline tried something safe. "I know you'll get him healed."
The half-elf nodded. "Oh, we will. Of that, I'm certain."
The two of them stared at the flames for a while. Caroline had to strain to hear Sitdale over the roaring and crackling when he began speaking again, unexpectedly. It was not about Aiclesis, however.
"Dorbin had led them downstairs by bringing us down there. He told us we had to protect you, even though we knew full well you weren't there. It was a ruse to save you. It worked. They fell for it."
Caroline was silent. A silent pang of guilt tore at her heart.
"We had just made it into the storeroom when they caught up to us. It was the largest room down there, but with fifteen of us…" Sitdale shook his head, his gray eyes seeing past the fire. "I've never been in such a chaotic, confused melee in my life. Instructions, orders, commands, yelling, screaming, weapons striking everywhere…" He hesitated. "Everywhere."
He looked directly at Caroline now, refocusing.
"They were powerful, Lady Bigfellow. More powerful than we were expecting. Their mage, Frill they called him- he pulled out a scroll early on in the fight. We saw it, but we just couldn't get to him. We outnumbered them two-to-one, but the space was just so crowded. I kept firing arrows at Frill, but that monk- he just kept knocking them out of the air. Unru had just finished shining himself up and was about to do what he does best." He raised an eyebrow at Caroline. "You do know he was- is an illusionist, don't you?"
She nodded. "Someone told me. I forgot who."
Sitdale smiled in return.
"The best, Lady Bigfellow. The best. He can do these creative things that usually leave us with little more to do than mop up." The half-elf's face grew sober. "I guess they knew that, too. When I saw Unru's face go blank, I knew what that bastard Frill had done, but I couldn't spare him any time. They were hitting us hard." Sitdale looked down at the ground. "The little human- I didn't hear him called anything but "Runt"-I thought he was just a warrior, but he was just like Aiclesis." He looked back at Caroline, to be sure she knew what he meant. Her expression indicated that she did, so he continued.
"It was so crowded in that small room; we didn't think that any of them could possibly able to slip around us. But that Runt- he was trying hard. It's like your blade couldn't see him, he was so fast, so slippery. He had stabbed Sir Dorbin, and…"
The half-elf stopped abruptly. Caroline waited.
"I'm sorry, Lady Bigfellow," Sitdale whispered. "I thought this would help me feel better, but I seem to be mistaken once again. Please forgive my inexcusable rudeness. Please tell Sir Menn to finish this tale for you. I-"
His breath caught in his throat. Caroline made some more soothing murmurs, then walked away quickly so Sitdale could at least think she hadn't heard him start to cry.
Sir Menn stood with his arms crossed. Still clad in his plate mail, he gazed stoically at the fire. Although Caroline knew the Dorbin party had healed themselves as best they could, she saw the knight was still putting most of his weight on his left leg.
She knew she shouldn't do this, but Caroline's curiosity drove her on. "Good Sir Menn," she began.
The knight looked slowly over at Lady Bigfellow. Although his face was flushed from fires past and present, his manner seemed remarkably calm. His eyes went, not to Caroline's face, but to the mug she still held in her hand.
Caroline noticed the empty bottle of wine at Sir Menn's feet.
She smiled apologetically and turned her cup upside-down. Sir Menn acknowledged this, with a slight look of regret.
"Difficult to face such a loss, eh?" the knight commented.
"Yes," Caroline agreed, somewhat warily. "Even more difficult for their closest friends."
Sir Menn nodded but said nothing.
Caroline took a deep breath. "Sitdale was telling me the story of the battle, " she said. "He said The Runt had stabbed Sir Dorbin- and then he asked you to finish the story for him."
She saw the knight's bleary eyes briefly switch over to Sitdale, who was now walking slowly back to the Brass Dragon, before coming back to rest on Caroline's face. He nodded. "I see," he said with a deep breath.
Caroline waited.
"I'm sure Sitdale mentioned what a nightmare it was. Despite our numerical superiority, we couldn't flank them. One-on-one, their skills exceeded ours. I say that with no little shame, but it's the truth. That little snip of a man had stabbed Sir Dorbin in the side with what we assumed was a poisoned blade. I couldn't help. I was fighting that accursed monk. He kept trying to grab my weapon, to trip me up. His hands were everywhere."
Sir Menn looked down longingly at the bottle on the ground, and then over at the inn. Catching Caroline seeing this, he grew embarrassed and plunged back into the tale.
"Torlina," he smiled. "Usually, she hung back in battle, but I guess she knew she didn't have that luxury this time. She was amazing, that girl. Casting even while ducking, weaving and dodging." The knight wiped away a sudden tear. "I was so proud of her…"
He closed his eyes.
"I forget the spell's name, but Torlina was a master at it. She was standing right behind Sir Dorbin. She crouched down, and cast. A thin ray of fire shot out from her hand, went right between Dorbin's legs and caught that little Runt right in his little…" Sir Menn opened his eyes again, a vicious smile creasing his face now. "God, how he screamed. Dropped his sword and everything. Dorbin and Aiclesis were on him then, and I thought that he might go down, but that monk- that damn monk!" The knight snarled, catching Caroline by surprise.
"He was like lightning. He leapt straight up- I still can't believe he didn't hit his head on the ceiling- and went flying right over my head. I swung, but I was too slow. His feet landed right on Torlina's shoulders. Even as they were both going down, I saw him grab Torlina's head in his hands, and then he-"
A loud snap came from the wood piled in the fire. It wasn't the first one or the last one Sir Menn and Caroline had heard, but it was the only one that they really paid attention to.
"Thank you, Sir Menn. I'm sorry about your loss." This time, Caroline Bigfellow needed no urging to leave. Now, it was her tears that she did not want anyone to see or hear.
She had composed herself as best she could, but Caroline still seriously contemplated skipping Fee Hal on her circuit around the pyre. She couldn't deal with any hatred at this point. Still, she thought that her snubbing the boy might validate whatever bizarre notion he already had about her, so she put on her standard feeble smile and approached the squire.
She stopped short just as she was about to speak, however.
The youth had clearly just stopped crying himself. His expression as he turned towards Caroline bore only sadness now.
"I- I am sorry, Lady- Caroline," He said with a slight stammer. "I had no right to hold you responsible for any of this. That was my grief you saw. Please forgive me."
To Caroline's astonishment, the young man walked over to her and knelt at her feet, his head down.
"You have shown us nothing but kindness," the squire said to the ground beneath him. Monsrek said that you saved Jack's life. I'm sorry- I didn't know. I thought the staff would be safe. I didn't think that priest would bother taking the time to attack an innocent. I didn't know until I saw him below- until I saw the symbol of the Reaper on him."
The youth looked up to Caroline, his face glistening. "I couldn't stop them. I couldn't take even one of them down. Torlina, Aiclesis- I couldn't…"
Fee Hal's shoulders shook as he sobbed. Torlina watched as his tears watered the grass below, dry from the fire's proximity. She looked away uncomfortably and waited.
He's only two years younger than I am, thought Caroline. What can I say to him? Why can't Argo be here, or Aslan, or even Talass? They'd know what to say. I don't. I want to make him feel better, but I can't. I'm just like him, she realized. Now that Tad's gone, I'm the child in a party of adults.
With a visible effort, Dorbin's squire composed himself.
Since she had absolutely no idea what else to say to him, Caroline decided to stick to her only line of conversation so far.
"Fee Hal," she asked as gently as she could, "what happened after the monk killed Torlina?"
Slowly, Fee Hal stood up and took several deep breaths. He then turned back to Caroline and continued the story, pantomiming occasionally.
"The monk-he was back on his feet in the blink of an eye." The squire's eyes grew distant as he saw the scene again, and something that might almost have been a cruel smile played on his young face. "But Sir Dorbin- I took one look at him, and I knew that somehow, he was going to win. He threw his shield at the monk. He batted it away, but it caused him to step back a pace, and Sear was already moving."
"Sear?" asked Caroline.
Fee Hal nodded. "Sir Dorbin's flametongue longsword. He stabbed the monk in the stomach. It wasn't a mortal wound, but as the monk tried to back up, Dorbin just stayed with him, so the monk grasped the flat of the blade with his hands and started pushing back towards Dorbin." The young man's face clearly showed his astonishment, as he looked again at Caroline. "His hands- they wouldn't burn."
There was a moment of silence.
"Then Sir Dorbin- he screamed," continued Fee Hal. I thought at first maybe The Runt had stabbed him again, but he took hold of Sear's hilt with both hands- and he lifted the monk straight up over his head by the sword!"
Caroline gaped at him. She couldn't possibly imagine that being true, but Fee Hal was still going.
"I don't know if Torlina or Flond had shined him up earlier- I don't know, but the monk couldn't believe it either. Me, I couldn't believe any of what I was seeing. The monk- the blade had gone in a little deeper, but he never cried out, or said anything. He just grabbed onto the blade even tighter. I saw at least one of his fingers come off and fall to the floor, but he kept pushing, and pushing. He was pushing himself straight up now, towards the ceiling, pushing himself off of the blade."
Fee Hal caught his breath, caught up in the moment.
"Then, I saw the gem of brightness glowing. You know, the ruby that Dorbin wears on his helm? You've seen it. He almost never uses it, because it's only got a few charges left. But he yelled, and a white beam of light flashed out from the gem and hit the monk right in the eyes." Fee Hal's voice, loud now, dropped dramatically. "Then, the monk screamed. The first time- and the last. His threw up his hands to try and protect his eyes, and he slid all the way down the blade. I was fighting the dark priest by then, but I saw it, out of the corner of my eye. Aiclesis and Sir Menn skewered the monk even before his body hit Sear's pommel. He was dead. I thought- I thought that might be the worst of it. It looked like the other four were trying to pull back. Sirs Dorbin, Menn and Aiclesis between them- they were all over Frill. They kept hacking away at him, but he had some kind of ungodly protection upon him. He couldn't cast, I never saw him cast, I never saw him reach into a spell pouch or anything- but somehow he managed to do it anyway."
The squire stopped, and bent down, putting his hands on his knees. Caroline thought that maybe he was going to be sick, but after a few moments the youth straightened up again and looked her squarely in the eye again. His voice was quieter, the gestures absent.
"Fireball. Point-blank range, at Aiclesis. He had a flask of alchemical smoke that he always carried in his backpack, and I guess the blast set it off. We couldn't see anything, but I knew that Aiclesis- that he…"
Fee Hal turned away to look again at the blaze. He was silent for a while, and then spoke one more time.
"We'd never lost before, Caroline. I didn't think we ever would. Not like this. We were valorous. Every one of us. We were strong. We had righteousness on our side. I- I don't understand how we could lose."
"Neither do I, Fee Hal," Caroline murmured, but it wasn't really true. She didn't have the squire's undying loyalty in moral conviction. Caroline didn't believe that the heroes always won. She'd always thought herself a realist.
It was only now that she realized that being a realist didn't diminish the pain one damn bit, so if there was a point to being one in the first place, she'd forgotten it.
She left the youth there, staring into the flames.
Caroline could see Monsrek eyeing her as she approached.
Like Wescene, the cleric looked a mess. Dirt and dried blood covered patches of his hands and face. He seemed somehow more gaunt than usual, but then Bigfellow realized that the cleric was not wearing his chainmail armor underneath his blue cassock. Monsrek's smile, still radiant even when shaky, somehow shone out from his tired face.
Argo has received my sending, Lady Bigfellow," he said as she approached. "Your friends are now apprised of the situation here." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Your husband wishes to know if you want him to have Aslan teleport him home."
Caroline shook her head. She had been expecting that.
"No. They have a job to do. Tell him I will be fine." She cocked her head at Monsrek and crossed her arms. "And am I going to have to beat you with a stick until you start calling me Caroline?"
The priest started to bow, but stopped halfway down, and straightened up, wincing with pain. "Forgive me my foolishness, Caroline." He looked at his hands, covered in dirt and then smiled again at her. "I told you I was just a dirty old man. Now it's plain for all to see."
Caroline started to laugh, but something cut it off in her throat. She gazed at Monsrek, who returned the look, the smile evaporating off his own face.
"Monsrek," she said softly. "Why did all this happen? I know it was me they were after- but why?"
The cleric took several deep breaths and began.
"Please understand, Caroline, that what I am about to say is part conjecture. I was able to speak briefly with the monk's corpse, and we have received some information from- other sources." Here, Monsrek's lip quivered as he glanced into the bonfire. "Still, there is much we do not know." He looked back at Caroline, his jaw set.
"They did not come only to kill you, Caroline, but your whole party."
Bigfellow's brow furrowed. "But- but the others weren't here! Why would they have risked such an assault without first confirming that? It doesn't make any sense! Would Sbalt really have-"
Monsrek cut her off. "Sbalt did not lead that group, my dear. That monk did."
Caroline gaped at him.
The priest nodded, continuing. "His name was Dangerous Hands. He was a member of the Emerald Serpent."
"Sbalt's fellow prisoner, back in Willip?" Caroline asked. "The one that Elrohir, Aslan and Tojo saw?"
Monsrek nodded. "The same. As Wescene had surmised, the Brass Dragon was indeed under surveillance, but only intermittently, no doubt due to our increased security measures. These five were aware of your mission to Highport. They were also aware that you were returning by sea, but did not know the specifics of your return to Furyondy. They received information three days ago that you and Cygnus had been spotted back here. Apparently not knowing of your intent to continue on to Chendl, they assumed you were all present."
Caroline shook her head again. "But Cygnus wasn't here three days ago! Three days ago, I was-"
And then it hit her.
Lady Bigfellow's eyes grew wide. The empty mug dropped to the grass as both hands flew to her mouth.
"Nodyath," she whispered.
Monsrek said nothing.
"That hawk- it was Nodyath, wasn't it? Kingus! He saw Kingus talking to me, and assumed he was Cygnus! He went back and told them that-"
She couldn't continue.
You knew, Lord Zeus, she thought. You pointed my enemy out to me yourself, and I still didn't recognize him!
Monsrek read the dawning horror and guilt on Caroline's face.
"Do not berate yourself, Lady Bigfellow," he said quietly. "You acted quickly, and told us what you had seen. Sir Dorbin and I had discussed the possibility that the bird you saw was Nodyath, but we had no idea a strike team of assassins was at that moment awaiting the word to attack. We thought Nodyath was our only concern." He looked thoughtful. "It seems both sides were acting on misinformation."
"But why does the Emerald Serpent want us dead?' Caroline asked hoarsely, her eyes glancing back to the inn. "Do they think that we are somehow responsible for Tad's escaping their clutches?"
The cleric shook his head. "That I do not know, my dear. I do not know. But I know we must discover the truth, and soon."
Caroline looked back over at him.
The cleric's smile was now completely mirthless.
"I think we have all seen just how deadly ignorance can be"
Sir Dorbin had not appeared to notice Caroline as she slowly approached him. Still clad in his bloody plate mail, the knight stood still as a statue. His dark blue eyes seemed alive with a red fire, but it was only the reflection of the inferno before him.
And within him, Caroline knew. She knew she was not the most perceptive of people, but the knight's grief seemed to radiate off him in palpable waves.
As she came up, Dorbin began speaking. His eyes did not waver from the fire, however.
"I assume you've been brought up-to-date, Lady Bigfellow. That's good. We're pretty sure that our assailants are hiding out somewhere to the southwest, in the Earldom of Farlyow. I'd not be surprised if they are the ones causing such grief for the merchant caravans passing through there. Once Unru is healed, we will regroup, and organize a counterattack. I'm certain that-"
"You loved her, didn't you?"
Sir Dorbin went silent.
Caroline couldn't believe she'd just blurted that out, butit hurther to listen to the knight talk with all the emotion of an animated skeleton.
To her surprise though, Dorbin nodded. "Yes," he replied softly. "Yes I did, Lady Bigfellow. We had spoken some weeks ago. No one else but Monsrek knows this, but we planned to retire once we returned to Aarde. I would turn over leadership of the party to Sir Menn, and the two of us would return to Seltia. We would marry, and have children…"
Sir Dorbin swallowed hard. His eyes lost their ability to stay focused on the flames. They turned upon Caroline now.
"Why do you bring up my pain, Lady Bigfellow?" he hissed at her. "Do you think me made of stone? Do you think I do not realize what we- what I have lost?"
Without warning, Dorbin strode right up to Caroline, grabbed her head in his gauntleted hands and forced it to turn towards the funeral pyre.
"Look!" the knight commanded. "Look!"
Caroline couldn't help but look. Those hands were starting to hurt her, but Sir Dorbin released his grip just as she started to struggle.
"Everything that is good and pure and noble lays within that fire, Lady Bigfellow, burning to ashes! My heart's true love is gone; one of my oldest and dearest friends is gone; the trust of my teammates is gone; the world that I knew is gone!"
Caroline stared at him. Dorbin's expression was so full of pain now, it seemed almost animalistic.
"My Talent, my leadership, my faith- everything that I have always relied upon has failed, Lady Bigfellow!" The knight's voice rose rapidly in volume. "Tell me, what are we to do now? I admit it- I do not know! I cannot get us home to our own time, I cannot fulfill my sacred duty of preventing rogue Talents from propagating, I cannot protect the lives of my own allies, nor those of you and yours! What do we do if the four survivors return before we are ready- and Nodyath himself leads them?"
He grabbed Caroline by the shoulders and shook her.
"What do I do?" he screamed at her. "What do I do?"
Caroline fought her own instincts and did not struggle. She merely looked into Dorbin's eyes. After a few moments, she saw his expression come into focus again. He released her and just stood there, his head hanging down.
She leaned in close to his ear. As usual, Caroline Bigfellow spoke the words that came into her head unbidden.
"You go to your friends, Sir Dorbin," she said into his ear. "They have not forsaken you. They know your pain, just as Argo and the others know Elrohir's pain when he feels he has failed. You go to them, not just for tactical advice, but to share your grief. And then, you all pray."
Dorbin raised an eyebrow. Caroline smiled.
"When I thought I had lost my true love, a very dear friend told me that it is in the relationships between us that the gods make their true miracles manifest."
The knight was silent for a moment, and then turned his head away.
"It was a fool that told you that, Lady Bigfellow," he whispered into the night. "A fool that had not experienced what he so blithely gave counsel on."
Lady Bigfellow shrugged. "If it was a fool who spoke, it was a fool who listened. All turned out just as the friend had predicted. Are you so sure there was no wisdom there?"
Caroline could barely hear Dorbin's reply.
"I'm not sure of anything anymore, Caroline."
She walked around the knight, so that she stood in front of him again, and smiled, putting her hand on his left shoulder.
"That doesn't make you a fool, Sir Dorbin. It makes you a mortal."
Dorbin's eyes flickered to hers. He said nothing, but slowly put his right arm around Caroline's shoulder, and gently steered her around so that they were both facing the pyre again.
They watched the flames until they died.