Rynna's gaze widened at the sight of the many and varied shops, and more than one of each kind, for she had not dreamt that such could exist, so different from the village of Springwater. And onward they rode, Rynna's head turning this way and that, marvelling at the plentitude.

Footway traffic was light in the eve, and they saw only one horse-drawn wain trundling through the streets, and this a water wagon. And Eiron said, "Pendwyr is a city without wells, and water is borne from shafts and springs down on the Plains of Pellar."

"Doesn't that make the city vulnerable to siege?" asked Rynna.

Eiron shook his head. "See the tile roofs? They are fitted with gutters and channels cunningly wrought to guide rainwater into cisterns for storing. The water from the plains merely augments the supply."

"It must rain often, then," observed Rynna.

"Aye," said Eiron. "Seldom does the city need rely wholly upon water from the plains."

"What about water needed to quench fires? Have they enough to do so?"

Eiron laughed. "Look about, wee one. This is a city of stone and brick and other such… things which do not burn."

Rynna gazed 'round, and the only wood her eye easily found was that of the brightly painted doors and shutters.

Eiron then said, "After the Chabbains destroyed Gleeds by fire-and were themselves destroyed-High King Rolun moved his court to the fort on this headland. And thinking upon the city just lost, 'Never again,' he declared, and he decreed that all buildings in Pendwyr must be made of stone, of brick, of that which would not burn."

"So it was then; so it is now," said Volki with an air of finality, and on through the city they fared.

Past shops and stores, past restaurants and cafes and tea shops, past inns and taverns, past large dwellings and small squares, past greengrocers and chirurgeons and herbalists they rode. And they crossed through several open-market squares, empty now that the day was done.

Finally they came to another gateway in a high stone wall running the width of the narrow peninsula. Again, Vanidar identified himself to the warders, and again they were permitted ingress. Beyond this wall the character of the buildings changed, for here were located a great courthouse, a tax hall, a large building housing the city guard with a jail above, a firehouse, a library, a census building, a hall of records, a cluster of university buildings, and other such- here was the face of government, the agencies and offices of the realm. Although impressed by the scale of the buildings within this quarter, it seemed cold and cheerless to Rynna and not nearly as marvelous as the city behind.

And as they rode forward, Caer Pendwyr loomed ahead, the citadel tall with castellated walls all 'round and towers at each corner, all enclosing the castle of the High King. When she and the others drew near the caer, Rynna could see that it sat on a freestanding spire of stone towering up from the Avagon Sea below. The fortified pinnacle was connected to the headland by a pivot bridge, a span which could be swivelled aside by a crew in the castle to sever the fortress from the headland.

At the moment the bridge spanned the gulf, guards at either end.

They gave their names to a captain, and he summoned two pages, sending one to fetch Lord Voren to the north turret chamber and the other to guide them on their way.

They were led through corridors and up spiralling stairs to a room high within an outer turret, and although Rynna was thoroughly turned about, Volki declared that indeed they were in the north tower, the one overlooking Hile Bay.

No sooner had they arrived but the page who had been sent to fetch Lord Voren stepped to the door and breathlessly announced the steward's impending arrival. Moments later an elderly man came in-stooped in shoulder, but bright of eye-his head bald but for stray wisps of white hair all 'round.

"Come and sit about the table. No need to stand, eh?

And do my old eyes deceive me? Or is it a Waerling in your midst?"

The old man smiled at Rynna, and he beckoned her to a chair at his side. "Come, come, wee one, I would have you at hand."

"But my lord, I am just a Warrow amid corons and chieftains and a DelfLord and a warleader, and I-"

"Nonsense," snapped the man. "I see Elves and Dwarves and even huge Baeron nearly every day-well, perhaps not every day, but certainly several times a year-but Waer-lings, now, that's a different matter altogether. Besides, the page said you were a commander, and that's certainly good enough for me."

Silverleaf broke out in laughter. "Ah, little Ryn, resist not Lord Voren, for he has the right of it."

"Have you had aught to eat? No?" Voren turned to the page. "Boy, have food sent… and tea. On your way now, hop to."

As the page fled down the hallway, Voren turned to the others and said, "Now, about this army you bring…"

"How did the foe evade getting slaughtered as they came to the Argon?" asked Volki, the Dwarf stroking his black beard shot through with silver.

Voren pointed at the map at the point of the Argon Ferry. "Some were slain fighting a rearguard action, but most escaped. It seems they had floats waiting for them."

"Floats waiting?"

Lord Voren turned up a hand. "Perhaps they made them in anticipation of invading Pellar."

"They had not already done so? -Invaded Pellar, I mean?" asked Rynna.

Voren shook his head. "Oh, they sent token forces, but nothing of real threat." Voren gestured about. "It seems instead of capturing his city, they were more intent on capturing the King himself."

Rynna frowned. "Capturing?"

Voren nodded. "If the High King fell into the hands of Modru, 'twould be a terrible blow. But he outwitted them all and sent the foe fleeing across the Argon."

A scowl on his face, Volki nodded. "And how did the King cross in the teeth of their opposition?"

"They did not oppose him-"

"They made no opposition at the Argon?" interjected Rynna.

"-but fled instead," continued Lord Voren, "abandoning their floats and craft."

"Abandoning? They did not burn them?" Coron Eiron looked 'round at the others, all just as puzzled as he.

"Nay, they did not. King Blaine sent a company of Fjordlanders over and they fetched the floats and used them to ferry the host across. Even so, it took several days to get all to this side, to get all to the Pellarion shore. By then the foe had a good lead, and they fled across the land and over the Ironwater to Garia beyond."

"The King did not trap them against the near shore of that river either?" asked Durul.

Voren shook his head. "Nay. They were across when he arrived… and were arrayed to do battle on the opposite shore."

"Hmm," mused Ruar. "They did not oppose him at the Argon, a wider river to cross, yet they now do so at the Ironwater. This is a puzzle indeed."

"Aye," growled Volki. "The Ironwater is no Argon: a thousand feet across at most is the Ironwater, while the Argon alongside Pellar measures a mile or more."

"Forget not, Lord Ruar, DelfLord Volki, H?l's Crucible is at their backs. King Blaine believes they are afraid to cross that wasteland. He holds them at siege."

"This H?l's Crucible," said Rynna, "if they are afraid to cross it, just what is it like?"

"Oh, a terrible place, wee one," said Voren. "Look at the map, but heed me, for this is what it does and does not tell: surrounded by hills and separated from the Avagon Sea by a high shield wall, H?l's Crucible is a hideous rift in the earth, ten leagues wide and forty long and some thousand feet deep here at the narrow seaward end but plunging down a mile or more here where it flares out wide, a vast chasm running all the way to the northwesterly end. In most places the sides are sheer or bear steeply down; in a few places, however, slopes lead down and in. Nothing grows in the depths therein, for the land is hot, baked, cracked as if raging fire burns 'neath. And down across that broad, yawning stretch of arid wasteland, there are leagues upon leagues of jagged black stone, broken, shattered, deep chasms and great heaps and long, jumbled runs, gaping crevices and holes disappearing into darkness within the mesh of stone. Were any to try to cross these parts of the shattered waste it would take them weeks to go but a few leagues, and even could they reach the opposite side, their clothing, their boots, their very skin would be in tatters. Beyond the black stone, there are places here and there where scalding water now and then snoots into the sky, and elsewhere are holes which vomit yellow melt onto wide flats of soft tawny stone. There are long, glittering ridges of clusters of crystal sharp as the sharpest of blades, as well as jagged fissures exhaling foul fumes and glowing with fire deep in their unplumbed abyssal depths. Across the 'scape, bubbling pools of boiling mud or thick, seeping black tar seek to trap the unwary, while smoldering crevices cleft in the barren earth spew out billowing smoke, black or yellow or grey. A hideous stench wafts over all. And some days the air is deadly down in the great rift, for the belch of foul smoke and tainted vapors fill low pockets within the basin-at times H?l's Crucible entire-to thicken the air and kill all creatures therein, men included. For all these reasons and more, this is why Modru's armies fear to cross that land."