Roran surveyed the assortment of boys and old men clutching spears, and thought,Too much experience and too little. The grandfathers know how to deal with bears and the like, but will the grandsons have the strength to actually do it? Then he noticed the hard glint in the women’s eyes and realized that while they might hold a babe or be busy tending a scraped arm, their own shields and spears were never far from reach. Roran smiled.Perhaps . . . perhaps we still have hope.

He saw Nolfavrell sitting alone on a log—staring back toward Palancar Valley—and joined the boy, who looked at him seriously. “Are you leaving soon?” asked Nolfavrell. Roran nodded, impressed by his poise and determination. “You will do your best, won’t you, to kill the Ra’zac and avenge my father? I would do it, except that Mama says I must guard my brothers and sisters.”

“I’ll bring you their heads myself, if I can,” promised Roran.

The boy’s chin trembled. “That is good!”

“Nolfavrell . . .” Roran paused as he searched for the right words. “You are the only one here, besides me, who has killed a man. It doesn’t mean that we are better or worse than anyone else, but it means that I can trust you to fight well if you are attacked. When Katrina comes here tomorrow, will you make sure that she’s well protected?”

Nolfavrell’s chest swelled with pride. “I’ll guard her wherever she goes!” Then he looked regretful. “That is . . . when I don’t have to look after—”

Roran understood. “Oh, your family comes first. But maybe Katrina can stay in the tent with your brothers and sisters.”

“Yes,” said Nolfavrell slowly. “Yes, I think that would work. You can rely on me.”

“Thank you.” Roran clapped him on the shoulder. He could have asked an older and more capable person, but the adults were too busy with their own responsibilities to defend Katrina as he hoped. Nolfavrell, however, would have the opportunity and inclination to assure that she remained safe.He can hold my place while we are apart. Roran stood as Birgit approached.

Eyeing him flatly, she said, “Come, it is time.” Then she hugged her son and continued toward the falls with Roran and the other villagers who were returning to Carvahall. Behind them, everyone in the small camp clustered against the felled trees and stared forlornly out through their wooden bars.

HISENEMY’SFACE

As Roran proceeded about his work throughout the rest of the day, he felt Carvahall’s emptiness deep inside. It was as if part of himself had been extracted and hidden in the Spine. And with the children gone, the village now felt like an armed camp. The change seemed to have made everyone grim and grave.

When the sun finally sank into the waiting teeth of the Spine, Roran climbed the hill to Horst’s house. He stopped before the front door and placed a hand on the knob, but remained there, unable to enter.Why does this frighten me as much as fighting?

In the end, he forsook the front door entirely and went to the side of the house, where he slipped into the kitchen and, to his dismay, saw Elain knitting on one side of the table, speaking to Katrina, who was opposite her. They both turned toward him, and Roran blurted, “Are . . . are you all right?”

Katrina came to his side. “I’m fine.” She smiled softly. “It just was a terrible shock when Father . . . when . . .” She ducked her head for a moment. “Elain has been wonderfully kind to me. She agreed to lend me Baldor’s room for the night.”

“I’m glad you are better,” said Roran. He hugged her, trying to convey all of his love and adoration through that simple touch.

Elain wrapped up her knitting. “Come now. The sun has set, and it’s time you were off to bed, Katrina.”

Roran reluctantly let go of Katrina, who kissed him on the cheek and said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He started to follow her out, but stopped when Elain said with a barbed tone, “Roran.” Her delicate face was hard and stern.

“Yes?”

Elain waited until they heard the creak of stairs that indicated Katrina was out of earshot. “I hope that you meant every promise you gave that girl, because if you didn’t, I’ll call an assembly and have you exiled within a week.”

Roran was dumbfounded. “Of course I meant them. I love her.”

“Katrina just surrendered everything she owned or cared about for you.” Elain stared up at him with unwavering eyes. “I’ve seen men who throw their affection at young maids, like grain tossed at chickens. The maids sigh and weep and believe that they are special, yet for the man, it’s only a trifling amusement. You have always been honorable, Roran, but one’s loins can turn even the most sensible person into a prancing booby or a sly, wicked fox. Are you one? For Katrina requires neither a fool, a trickster, nor even love; what she requires above all else is a man who will provide for her. If you abandon her, she will be the meanest person in Carvahall, forced to live off her friends, our first and only beggar. By the blood in my veins, I won’t let that happen.”

“Nor would I,” protested Roran. “I would have to be heartless, or worse, to do so.”

Elain jerked her chin. “Exactly. Don’t forget that you intend to marry a woman who has lost both her dowry and her mother’s inheritance. Do you understand what it means for Katrina to lose her inheritance? She has no silver, no linens, no lace, nor any of the things needed for a well-run home. Such items are all we own, passed from mother to daughter since the day we first settled Alagaësia. They determine our worth. A woman without her inheritance is like . . . is like—”