“I marvel you carry so dangerous a thing with you.”

“It is wise to keep the danger you know best to hand, Lady.”

Hesitation that Moonhawk tasted as her own, even as her powers faded. Food… She separated her need, hurled it into the madwoman with the last of her strength.

“Very well. Arto—bring food for the magician. Kat—tie her.”

Lute carried the bad bread and doubtful cheese to her, ignoring the tube though his nerves shrieked. He halved the meager portion and raised a cheese-bit to her lips: “Eat.”

“Look, Kat!” Lady Drudae shrilled. “The magician is kind! He shares his meal with a stranger! Or is she not a stranger? A night in the pit together, with no other entertainment—and she would not have Arto!”

Moonhawk felt the flare of his fury, held his eyes with hers. “My thanks to you, brother.” Shoulders aching with the strain of the rope, she took the cheese and ate.

He fed her the bread and gave her a drink of pure, icy water. Then he ate, taking much longer than he might. She had the sense that he was gauging something, counting…

The Lady shifted irritably, fingers tightening on the tube. Lute offered more water; had another sip for himself and turned.

She read no hope in him.

“Now, if the Lady and her bodyguardian will stand well away…”

“Stand away! You can’t go—” Arto’s bellow spun Kat and the Lady around. Lute faded two light steps toward the bag, hope scalding.

Through the arch a ragamuffin crowd jostled, pushing bulky Arto before it like jetsam in a floodtide.

“Noble Lady! See what we bring! Bounty for all!”

“Enough!” The tube pointed unwavering at the center of the crowd. Voices halted and the tangle rearranged itself, becoming four of the village surrounding two who were manifestly not.