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as he could. The old woman made him think of Grandmother Esme, her house ransacked, her broken body left for dead by Derthsin’s troops. He glanced at the scrap of red linen tied around his wrist, the only memento he had left of the woman who had brought him up. It was grubby and frayed now — how much longer would it survive intact?
    â€œHelp?” the woman repeated. Her hands trembled as she offered them the withered carrots and potatoes. “Here, take them. Take anything you want. Just please don’t hurt me.” She cowered to the ground.
    Tanner and Gwen stared at each other. Gwen’s eyes were moist.
    â€œDerthsin’s army came to our villages, too,” said Tanner. He could hear other people murmuring to one another from behind his back. He raised his voice so that they could hear. “My grandmother and everyone else I knew were slaughtered….”
    He stopped as the old woman seized his arm. “They took my grandson, Corrin,” she said. “The soldiers came in the night, ten moons ago. They went through every house, pulling the men outside, out of the arms of their wives and mothers….” Her face contorted with pain at the memory. “They killed the men. We buried them in the yellow field outside the town wall. But the boys … The soldiers lined up all the boys old enough to work and put ropes around their necks. One woman tried to save her son, but the soldiers beat her. Then they took them away….”
    Gwen put her arm around the woman’s shoulders as she sobbed.
    A sudden shout drew Tanner’s attention. They left the old woman, passing through the crowd and past more ruined blocks, until they approached the town square. Women and children had gathered in a great circle. They were chanting, “Castor! Castor!”
    Tanner and Gwen pushed their way through until they could see what was happening. In the middle of the square, a boy of about Tanner’s age was waving a sword and grinning at the crowd. His hair hung in golden locks, framing his face, and an easy smile lit up his eyes. He had the wide shoulders and muscular arms of someone who practiced hard with his sword. Tanner noticed a dagger sheathed in his belt. It wasn’t hidden, like Gwen’s throwing axes. He wants people to know he can fight, thought Tanner.
    The boy strutted in a slow circle and thumped his chest to encourage the chanting. The boy tossed his sword into the air and, as it spun, he clapped in time with the chants — “Castor! Castor!” — then caught the sword behind his back.
    â€œSo who’s next?” the boy, Castor, shouted. He pretended to fumble with his sword and laughed. “See, I’m not a great swordsman!” He spun the blade in a fast double swipe. “Which of you thinks he can face me? Step in now, and I’ll fight you with one hand behind my back!”
    The way Castor smirked at the crowd, as they cheered and encouraged him, made Tanner clench his jaw with irritation. Gwen nudged him with her elbow.
    â€œHe’s quite a showman, isn’t he?” she said, raising her voice over the noise.
    Tanner scowled. “Show-off, more like. We’re wasting our time. I don’t want to watch this preening fool.”
    But to his surprise, Gwen was smiling.
    â€œHe’s good!” she called over the noise.
    Tanner stared at her. “Good?” he said. “Are you out of your mind? Look at him!”
    â€œOh, I know,” she said, “you were right when you called him a show-off. But do you see how fast he is with his sword? I’ve never seen anyone fight like that.”
    Back in the circle, Castor spread his arms wide. “What, no one here’s brave enough? Everyone’s terrified of me? I don’t blame you — I would be, too!”
    A voice piped up. “I’ll fight you!”
    Tanner peered over to see who the challenger was. A scrawny boy who couldn’t