So far as Absyll Skwall and Glacia were concerned, the fate of the Shining knight was yet to be decided; but the Glooming thief’s day of reckoning had come. The guards were sent to fetch him before the lord of Tempist that the manner of his execution might be determined, and this was quickly done. Thus, Peregrine the pauper, once of the Rhyming Halls in the city of Eventide that stood upon the banks of the Whispering Stream, found himself in chains before an angry wizard in the tower of Tempist, with the dome of air settled clear and bright above and the deadly cove grumbling like an angry beast below; and when he was brought before his judges he smiled and bowed, and bade them a cheerful morning and a fine day.

Absyll was taken aback and his wife narrowed her cold eyes, for of all the prisoners they had judged, this wandering pauper was the first to give them blessings as he was brought before them. Their hearts had long been hardened to pleas for mercy and armored against threats and curses; but they were ever watchful for tricks, and this cheerful fellow from Glooming must obviously be playing a trick. But it is the nature of wizards to accept the trickster’s challenge, for that is a game of wisdom; and what wizard can resist proving themselves wiser and cleverer than another? So Absyll Skwall took a strange liking to this dark little man who would seek his freedom through cleverness rather than by throwing himself at the mercy of his jailers. He silenced his wife’s calls to have the assassin burned at once, and fixed Peregrine with a fearsome gaze.

“I wonder at you, my little man,” he said, “for you have spent a week in chains surrounded by cold stone and iron, yet you come to hear your judgment with good cheer. And instead of the ragged, desperate fellow I would expect, you look like a man well-rested, well-fed, washed, and waiting only to give his thanks and his goodbyes before taking his leave. What are you playing, I wonder? What trick do you think will save your life? You will die here, and today – surely you know that?”

Peregrine smiled and shrugged, and said in a clear voice full of easy confidence, “I have been told wise men accept that death comes to everyone, so I suppose I must embrace wisdom and accept death. Sadly, through long acquaintance with myself I have found that I am a fool, so I shall busy myself with living and deny death until I’m dead.”

Glacia sat unmoving as a marble statue, stabbing at Peregrine with her needle-sharp eyes. “If it is the business of the living to live and the dead to be dead,” she said icily, “then we shall busy you with dying.”

Peregrine smiled happily, and said, “As it pleases you, my lady. What manner of dying shall I busy myself with?”

Lady Glacia was not a wizard but a sorceress, and she did not feel any natural inclination to play games of cunning with her prisoner. Neither did she hold him in admiration for trying to save his own life no matter the method; she could see plainly enough that he was playing a trick, but didn’t care to outwit him, only kill him. So being asked the question, she stated bluntly, “I think there are many ways I could busy you with dying: locking you in a bright cell with neither food nor water, or setting you in a cauldron of boiling light. We might slowly freeze you at the stake, or drown you little by little in your own tears – I should be happy to collect them. I think perhaps we should melt your bones, or turn your flesh to air and let you blow away. There are a great many occupations for a dying man.”

Though Peregrine’s heart shivered with every possibility Glacia shared, he held himself steady; and when she paused he nodded thoughtfully, and said, “Indeed, I think there may be more ways to spend my time dying than I had ever considered; but you must choose only one, unless you know the secret of restoring me to life so I may die again?”

“You may count yourself fortunate that I haven’t the secret of Life, or you would indeed die many hundreds of times.”

Peregrine cast his eyes about the hall, and said, “My lady, I have long been in the habit of counting myself fortunate. How many paupers from any Place could claim to have enjoyed the hospitality of a great wizard and his great wife? I am surrounded by finery, I have eaten your food, and slept safely upon your soft straw while your guards watched over me. It seems to me that I owe you more than simple thanks if I am to be more than an ungracious guest.

“And my fortune holds true, for I believe I see a way I might be of service to you. I have heard your guards speak of a favorite ring or yours, lost in the bubbling cove below the tower. As I must be put to death, I think I might as well see if I can search out your ring for you. If I die, well – you were hoping to see me dead anyway, and I might live long enough to return a precious treasure to you. I think in that way I might show my gratitude for your generosity.”

Lady Glacia at once suspected that this must be how her prisoner hoped to escape, but she couldn’t see how he could survive the cove. Besides, she wanted her ring back very much, and if there was a chance he might find it …

She hesitated only because she knew that she would have to reward this man she wished to kill if he succeeded. Her husband saw the trick right away, however, and thought he guessed how Peregrine meant to earn not only his freedom but riches, too, and perhaps even put his would be executioner in his debt.

Absyll could have put an end to Peregrine then and there by having him cast into the cove at once, but he was enjoying the game and knew his wife wished for her ring. So he silently gave the little man a point and played along.

“I have never heard of such a thing,” he said. “A beggar from Glooming hoping to do a lady from Shining a good turn? Bah! Why do you ask for this, and why should we grant it? We are not in the habit of allowing our prisoners to choose the manner of their execution, but if you tell me why you would ask for the cove I shall grant it.”

Peregrine knew at once he had been seen through, but was neither surprised nor dismayed. He had not expected to truly outwit Absyll Skwall, only to entice him. So he answered, “Well, my lord, if you wish the truth of it I shall tell you. It is not you I hope to trick, but my cellmate. I was forced to share a cell with a knight from Shining, and as I know how a Shining knight would hate to be outdone by a beggar from Glooming, I thought to retrieve your wife’s ring for her. At the least I shall shame him into demanding the chance for himself, so even if I die I know that he shall soon follow in the manner of my choosing. It is a little thing, but beggars must content themselves with little things.”

Lady Glacia did not see the trick, for she did not know of Sir Wick’s love for a lady of Shifting, nor of that lady’s love for him; but Absyll did know, and he guessed how Peregrine learned of it. For a moment his legendary rage threatened to sweep him away, but he quickly realized what his old servant’s betrayal must have cost him, and that it must be Eddhy’s love for his master that would protect pauper and knight from the cove. His rage became gratitude and love for his friend, and he resolved to help his prisoners in every way he could.

This would mean tricking his beloved wife, but he was happy to do so – they often played little tricks on each other, and a trick that resulted in the return of her ring would be quickly forgiven. So he threw himself into the game with great eagerness.

He screwed up his face in mock anger and satisfaction, and laughed cruelly to deceive his wife. “Ha! Well, I said I’d give you the death you wished, and so I shall; but you will not shame one of my wife’s fellows by such a trick. Bring me the Shining knight!”

Glacia could feel the trick but she couldn’t grab it, and her husband would not give her even a moment to puzzle it out. Sir Wick stood before Peregrine almost in the blink of an eye, but the two prisoners refused even to glance at the other. This was by prior agreement to avoid giving away their friendship, but there was nothing odd in the folk of Shining ignoring the folk of Glooming, so it was hardly suspicious.

Absyll rose from his chair, and spoke before his wife could address Sir Wick, for he suspected the knight was too honest for much trickery. “Let us go to the terrace overlooking the cove. Two heroes are eager to be of service, and we must not make them wait.”

The judges, prisoners, and the whole of the court moved to a wide terrace carved from living water marbled with veins of light. The dome of air still rose high and clear over the tower, but a far-traveling wind blew the scents of fiery spices mixed with the perfumes of earthy flowers and damp shadows across the condemned and their witnesses. The cove was a roiling, boiling stew of light and air and water, and it hissed and bubbled and threw a fine mist high enough to slick the smooth terrace. Peregrine looked over the railing and into the churning depths and began to doubt the wisdom of his plan; but what choice was there? At least here there was hope; giving the choice into Glacia’s hands was certain death, and likely a cruel death at that.

Absyll pushed forward, seemingly full of eagerness to see these two men leap to their deaths. He stood on platform above the terrace with Glacia beside him, and bellowed to be heard above the noise of the cove.

“Eddhy! Bind them, and make it a sure binding. They will die together, or succeed together.”

Now Glacia knew her husband had seen the trick and had not only approved but become a conspirator. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he conspicuously refused to give her even the barest of glances, instead watching his oldest servant bind the prisoners tightly by one hand: the left hand of the Shining knight’s to right hand of the Glooming thief. Eddhy was quick and competent, and only he and the heroes saw that he slipped a token of his love for his master between their palms. They would carry the love of Shifting and Shining with them in the form of the ring of Sir Wick’s lady’s braided hair, and the love of Deeping in the form of a little badge carved from a gleaming shell. This was a token of honor and loyalty given by Absyll Skwall to Eddhy long before, and the best promise Eddhy could give them.

Eddhy moved away, and at a wave of Absyll’s hand the thick railing melted like mist into the scented breeze. “At your pleasure,” boomed the wizard, and Peregrine and Sir Wick took a half-step to the edge. They stood gazing into the glowing, churning, steaming cauldron, and it seemed a very long way down. Peregrine swallowed nervously.

Sir Wick, however, was as hopeful as ever, and lifted his face to Absyll. “We thank you for your mercy, Lord Skwall.” Then he looked at Glacia, and said, “In your service, my lady.”

He bent his knees to the jump, and Peregrine followed suit, muttering, “By the by, I can’t swim.”

Sir Wick smiled, and said, “Then we must be meant to sink.”

Then they leapt, wondering what they would find below the surface of that deadly cove, and how they would find a ring in such a place.

Sir Wick had gone to Tempist by his own choice, but Peregrine had arrived for the simple reason that the wandering road had brought him there. He recognized the tower and the forest and the roiling cove at once, of course, and had very nearly turned away; he felt he had wisdom enough already, and knew better than to risk searching in the lion’s den for more. True, Absyll Skwall might receive him as a guest, but if Absyll’s bright wife were to find him first … no, better to turn round and find a safer house than risk his life for a meal and soft a bed.

He had just turned his back on the tower when the shifting dome of air sizzled stark white and burning red, and a peal of thunder shook the very hill he stood upon and nearly threw him to the ground. The trees began to sway like grass in the wind, and every second was filled with the sharp smack of ten thousand drops of water and light pelting down like little hammers upon the earth. In the blink of an eye Peregrine was soaked through, and the dry road had become a muddy stream that threatened to wash him right into that deadly cove that boiled below the tower. So he turned back to Tempist, hoping to find Absyll in a good mood before Galcia found him at all.

The very servant that would warn Sir Wick away had cheerfully promised to bring Peregrine to his master, who had been in a very fine humor that day. Lord Absyll was entertaining guests in the feasting hall, and the servant promised he would be happy to receive another visitor. Peregrine’s happy heart was laid low, however, for they met Lady Glacia just outside the feasting hall. The hero saw with dread that though the icy lady’s bright face grew dark, she had been altogether too happy to see him.

“What is this?” she had asked the servant, not caring for an answer. “Have you caught a thief?”

The servant bowed humbly and shook his head. “Nay, my lady; this is a poor traveler, a beggar seeking shelter from the rain.”

The lady’s features flirted with a regal sneer, and icy daggers filled her eyes. “Nay,” she had said, gently mocking the servant; “not a thief but a poor beggar is he – a simple wanderer caught in the storm.” Then she discarded the gentle tone, and said, “I think not, and if you were not such a fool neither would you. You are a good servant and a fine fellow, Eddhy, and a loyal friend to your lord and to me; but you are entirely too kind, and too quick to give villains the benefit of the doubt. I fear it shall bring you to grief, one day.

“This is one of Glooming’s rats, and at best he is a thief. More likely he is an assassin, sent to slay either my husband or me or both; perhaps even the whole of our household. He should be slain out of hand, but I will not interrupt our entertaining for an execution – our guests have come seeking peace and leisure, and they are too gentle to find entertainment in blood and death. Take him to the dungeons and put him in chains. I will deal with him properly when our guests have departed.”

Then she turned and went into the feasting hall, and the laughter and gaiety had sounded like mockery in Peregrine’s ears, and the happy music felt like a dirge to his heart.

The servant was the picture of remorse, but he was powerless to do anything but as his lady bade. Peregrine, who knew his punishment would fall upon the servant if he disobeyed, accepted both the cold cell and the heavy chains without complaint, and was so kind-hearted and compliant that even the guards who bound him felt only pity and sorrow for his plight. They would not dare disobey Lady Glacia’s commands, but they had only been told to bind him in chains in the dungeon, and never a word was said about comfort or food. So the servant was quick to bring not only a warm blanket and soft pillow, but also a good meal and a jug of hearty wine. The guards did nothing to prevent this, and even brought fresh straw bedding, and twice as much as was customary, at that. A candle was brought for him, and a bowl and pitcher of water to wash in.

That first night the servant assured Peregrine that the lady would not see to him until the guests had departed, and that would not be for a week; and until then, he would be as comfortable in the dungeon as he would be anywhere, excepting for his lack of freedom. Peregrine was grateful and courteous, and spoke so kindly to his jailers and the servant that not a single one of them had a harsh word for him. So the days passed, and the guards took it in turns to keep him company for a few moments here and there. The servant brought him good food twice every day, and when he found that Peregrine had once served a scholar he began bringing him books to help pass the time.

This is not to say that Peregrine had resigned himself to his fate; to the contrary, he had every intention of escaping, and if he could tweak Lady Glacia’s nose he would. She had been right about one thing, after all: he was a thief, and though he wouldn’t steal from a host he felt no misgivings over shaming an unjust jailor or cruel executioner. So he was happy enough to eat her food and read her books, and he paid close attention to all that his guards and the servant said, though they were careful not to say anything especially useful. He could hardly blame them for that, for he knew they would surely be punished if he escaped, and the punishment would be all the worse if they had helped him through their negligence.

So he had watched and listened, and whenever he was alone he would slip out of the chains and explore the length and breadth of his cell, being careful to be properly bound again whenever a guard or the servant came. Day followed day, and eventually the days had collected themselves into a week, and he had become perfectly familiar with his cell. Not even the tower’s architects or those who had built it could claim better knowledge of that cell, but Peregrine, architect, and builders were all in agreement: there was no way for him to slip away, for a prison it was called and a prison it well and truly was. The servant assured him that Lord Absyll had enchanted every stone, every bar, and even the mortar itself, so that neither magic nor cunning would gain him his freedom. He saw that if he were to escape it would have to be once he was taken from the cell, and then he would be under the very eyes of the Lady Glacia herself.

But how could he slip away from such a cruel, bright-eyed woman? Former servant of a scholar though he was, he was no wizard; and both Absyll and Glacia were famous for their wisdom and for the deep mysteries they kept. How was a pauper to outwit a sorceress?

Finally the servant brought his last breakfast, for the guests had gone and the next morning would bring the execution. He looked so very sad that Peregrine found himself trying to lift the poor man’s spirits; but nothing he said would lift the grief from the man’s face, and finally the man shared the cause of his misery.

“Though it is foolish to say, I cannot help but feel that some part of me shall die with you, for I have tried to convince Lord Absyll to grant you clemency and failed. I have brought many prisoners here, and with every execution I feel my heart grow fainter. Soon I shall dry up altogether, and not even returning to my home in Deeping shall revive me.”

Peregrine summoned up a smile, though he didn’t feel much joy, and said, “Then I recommend you quit your lord’s service and return to Deeping’s living waters before your heart grows too faint. It is enough that you try despite the failures, for it means you haven’t given up, and continue the good fight. But there is a time to go home, and perhaps that time is now. Let others fight for awhile. It isn’t your crime, and you needn’t pay for it with your life.”

But the servant shook his head, and answered, “It would be my crime if I simply left, for then there would be nothing to smooth Absyll’s moods. He and I are both born of Deeping, but he is a storm while I am a tiny eddy. Even so, I will pit my strength against his temper, not just to save you but to save him, as well.”

Peregrine was at a loss, for it seemed this servant had fought many battles to the death and lost every one of them, and still he fought on. Eventually he would win or finally lose himself entirely. As Peregrine considered this, he saw a resolution grow firm in the servant’s eyes, as though a fearful choice had been put before him and a painful decision made.

He nodded to himself, then looked to see that no guards were present. When he was certain they were alone, he fixed Peregrine with a grim but eager look, and said, “I shall do all I can to save you and perhaps my master with you, though I must betray him to do so. Listen carefully to what I say, for three lives hang upon your cunning and courage: yours, mine, and that of a prisoner who has yet to be caught.”

Then the servant told Peregrine that on occasion Absyll would look into a strange bowl and see many different things. Sometimes he would see great things and sometimes little things, and sometimes he would see the future. Only that morning Absyll had looked into the bowl, and when he looked away he told the servant that a knight from Shining would come in the afternoon. The knight was to be sent away at once, for Absyll would be in a wrathful mood and it would cost the knight his life if he were to enter the tower. If he would only return to the tower another day, Absyll could help him return in victory to the lady of Shifting whom he loved.

Just as importantly, the servant told Peregrine that some time ago Lady Glacia had dropped a ring into the cove, and that this ring had been very dear to her. She had entreated her husband to fetch it back for her but he said he could not, for to survive the cove would require a shield made from the bonds of love between the stuff of Air, the stuff of Water, and the stuff of Light. Though Absyll was born of Deeping and loved Glacia, who was born of Shining, and though she loved him in return, still they needed the power of Shifting’s love, and neither of them could produce that vital element.

“But the knight who shall come this afternoon can,” said the servant. “He is born of Light and loves a lady born of Air, and she loves him. There we have two of the three, and I can provide the third, for I am born of Water and love my lord as dearly as I love anything. I will lend you that power, and so you shall be protected from the cove if you can convince the knight to join you. But I see that you are born of Darkness, and the people of Glooming bear only hatred for the folk of Shining. If the knight will agree, will you put aside your hatred? It is your only hope, for if you can convince Glacia to grant you the chance to retrieve her ring I’m sure she will agree. She will happily watch you leap to your deaths, and if you succeed in retrieving the ring she will surely heap favors upon you both. Thus our lives and the knight’s quest might all be saved.”

Peregrine smiled sadly, and said, “I bear the folk of Shining not a single ounce of hatred; but can the knight bring himself to put aside the hatred his people hold for mine?”

The servant shrugged, and said, “If he loves his lady he will find it in himself to love you, too. If not, then we are all three of us lost.”

And so it was, when some hours later Sir Wick was brought into Peregrine’s cell, that the pauper watched quietly until he was hopeful that this knight of Shining might be strong enough to turn his back on the enmity their people bore one another. That hope came, and quickly; but still he did not reveal himself until Sir Wick promised his friendship to a voice that spoke from a shadow.

Even so he held his breath as he revealed himself, and when he saw only surprise in Sir Wick’s eyes – surprise, and not a single ounce of hatred – he smiled warmly, and said, “There is only one way to escape the dungeons of Tempist alive, and it is our good luck that I know the secret of it. If you wish,” he said with a wink, “I shall tell you how.”