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where rooms once had been. There was only one doorway, and the slit windows were set high up in the walls. Cadvan threw down his pack.
    "We have but little time, and we must use it well, if we are to survive the night," he said. "Fire is our hope. We need wood, quickly, before it grows dark."
    They left the tower and went wood-gathering. Around the base of the hill grew some thorn trees, and two had been uprooted in a winter storm. "Dry, perfect firewood," Cadvan said. "I think there will be enough here." Maerad had opened her mouth to ask how they were to chop firewood with their bare hands when Cadvan drew a sword from beneath his cloak. "Forgive me, Arnost, for putting you to such usage!" he said, and began to hack the deadwood as easily as if he were cutting bread.
    "I didn't know you had a sword," said Maerad. "I never saw it before!" Suddenly she felt almost lighthearted, as if they were preparing a bonfire for a party.
    "There is much you don't know about me," Cadvan said. "Pray that you get the chance to find it out! Now hurry!"
    Catching Cadvan's urgency, Maerad dragged bundles of branches up the hill, and soon, after he had split the trees, he helped her. It was difficult work, as she kept slipping on the turf. Before long they had a high pile of firewood inside the old guardhouse. Cadvan eyed it critically. "It will do," he said. "It will have to. It is almost dark. Gather some more branches while there's time. I have something else to do."
    He drew a small, curiously shaped dagger and began to score a deep line around the base of the hill, and as she lugged more firewood to the guardhouse, Maerad could hear him chanting words in the Speech in a low, rhythmical monotone.

When he had circled the whole hill, he stood still and lifted his arms up to the sky. Again he seemed to be illuminated by a strange light, and for a second Maerad saw a ring of white flame leap around the tower; but then she blinked, and it was gone, and she thought it must have been a trick of the vanishing light.
    She went inside the guardhouse. The pile of wood was high, and the sun was just now slipping over the horizon. Inside, it was almost completely dark.
    Cadvan joined her and immediately knelt down and made a small pile of kindling by the door. Then, stretching out his hand with his two forefingers stiffened, he said: "Noroch!" Atiny white flame lit on the kindling and spread, and he tended it, building the fire swiftly until Maerad was forced to stand by the opposite wall because of the heat.
    "It's a bit like saying, 'Here we are,'" she said. "Don't you think?"
    "And you think they don't know we're here?"
    "What happens when it's dark?"
    "In the dark the wers hold their power," said Cadvan. "They will fear this fire. They cannot break the stone. I don't believe they will break the barrier I have made. We have, I think, enough wood to last until morning. Now, Maerad, I know this is not a good time to ask you, but can you fight with a knife?"
    Maerad did, in fact, own a dagger she had stolen from one of the Thane's men and kept secretly in her belt next to her skin. "I can try," she said. "I've never really fought with one." She showed Cadvan the dagger and he examined it swiftly.
    "It's of rough make, but serviceable, and your size," he said. "If you are attacked, go for the eyes, if you can, and remember to hold it firm in your fist, like this, so it will drive in. I'll have to give you lessons in swordcraft when we are in a less tight spot."
    Maerad felt her stomach tighten. "What will attack us?" she asked. What use was a knife against shadows?

"I don't know yet," said Cadvan. "But remember, although they are of the Dark, they can be killed. Their worst weapon is fear. Hold back the fear with everything you have. And only fight if you are attacked. Otherwise, leave any fighting to me."
    He drew his sword, and the faint ringing sound echoed off the stone around them. The fire snapped and cracked, throwing strange shadows over the