"We are children. But why does you coming along help? I can throw it off myself, you know." He looked down quickly at his clenched left hand. "I can get it into the water easily. It's not very heavy."

"Because I'm going to fall down just when we get to the top. You'll be just in front of me and the guards will stop to help me-they'll be terri¬fied I've broken my leg or something-and you just step to the wall and… do it."

He stared at her with admiration. "You're clever, strawhead."

"And you need someone like me to keep you out of trouble, redling. Now what about that promise?"

"Well?"

"I want you to swear on our blood oath that the next time you think of something like stealing a valuable statue out of the chapel, you'll talk to me first."

"I'm not your little brother, you know…!"

"Swear. Or the oath I made doesn't count anymore."

"Oh, very well. I swear." He smiled a little. "I feel better."

"I don't. For one thing, think of all those servants who were stripped and searched and even beaten when Father Timoid was looking for the statue. It wasn't their fault at all!"

"It never is. They're used to it." But he at least had the good sense to ap¬pear a little troubled.

"And what about Kernios? How is he going to feel about having his statue stolen and thrown into the sea?"

Barrick's open expression shuttered again. "I don't care about that. He's my enemy."

"Barrick! Don't say such things about the gods!"

He shrugged. "Let's go. Lady Simeon must have given up by now. We'll come back and get the statue later. We can take it up to the wall tomorrow morning." He stood, then reached down his good hand to help his sister, who was struggling with her long skirts. "We'd better clean this blood off

oui hands before we get back, to the Residence or they'll be wauling to know where we've been."