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.