"Leave us in peace!" the girl cried. "Haven't you done enough to him?"

Shaul took a closer look at the old man, saw the bandages on his eyes and hands, the way his mouth moved, trying to speak. Possibly the man had been mutilated as punishment for some crime-more likely for taking part in the rebellion. But if the man's crimes were so terrible, he should have been killed outright, not made to suffer like this.

"Back off!" Shaul ordered. "You are in violation of Sundell lands. Whoever is in charge, come forward!"

A man with long greasy strands of hair and a dark stubble on his face looked up at him. "You're mistaken," he said insolently, as if the Sundell riders weren't better armed and didn't outnumber his own troops two to one.

"There are the markers." Shaul pointed at the red-and-yellow stakes farther up the hill. "Let those people go." He pulled out his sword to emphasize his resolve.

"These prisoners escaped," the Kislova soldier said. "We would honor your laws in such a matter."

Shaul looked at the blind man, exhausted, defiant; at the girl, panting with fear. Whatever thoughts he'd had of compromise ended at the sight of their helplessness. "Leave them and go," he ordered.

The Kislovan commander shrugged and grinned. 'As you command," he said. As he motioned his men away, his hand fell to a dagger beneath his cloak. Before the Sundell soldiers could react, he let it fly toward the helpless man.

The girl struck out with her arm, deflecting the knife. She received only a small wound, but the cut was enough. She fell to her knees, clawing at her throat, trying to force breath into lungs that no longer worked.

Shaul struck, the force of his blow beheading the Kislovan commander. His men joined him in the fight, but though two were cut, only the commander's blade had been poisoned. The battle ended in minutes, with six of the Kislovan band dead. The seventh and last, only a little older than the dying girl, threw down his sword and surrendered.