Powl and Father Rown were in the library choosing the most precious volumes to be saved first. There was so much to move and so little time that they knew many would be lost. They could hear the fire not far away, crackling and whooshing as it moved closer and closer to the library like a live thing.
Powl had almost reached the Books of Days and had made the decision to pass them by. What use the daily thoughts of primates past when all the knowledge of the continent was at risk? The thought made him stop. He paused in the action of passing on the atlas and almanac of Agostin, a book he knew was one of Queen Areava's favourites.
Not just the daily thoughts, he told himself. In a way they represented the distilled knowledge of all the learning represented by the library, especially as it applied to their lives as priests and not simply men. He skipped the intervening books and went straight to the
Books of Days, and quickly, urgently, started passing them out.
A new sound was added to the fire, a strange whistling. Arrows broke through the library windows, sending glass in every direction. Some of the priests left the line and Powl had to order them back.
'Not long, Fathers, not long! Hold on to your courage and pray to God!'
More arrows, appearing from nowhere as if they were cast by God himself. One priest fell with an arrow in his leg, and two of his fellows had to carry him out. There was an explosion from the hallway and smoke belched into the library. Now even Powl realised it was time to go. They had saved what they could.
'Flee!' he shouted. 'All leave the library!'
There was an ordered rush for the exit. Powl was joined by Father Rown and together they made sure all the priests got out safely.
'Now you, Father,' Powl said to Rown. He spied the last Book of Days, the one that should have held his contributions. He went to collect it.
'Your Grace?' Rown called out.
'I'll be with you in a moment.' He picked up the book and put it under his arm, then suddenly lurched forward, a moan escaping from between his lips. He fell against Rown.
'Your Grace?' Rown asked, catching the primate in his arms. 'What is wrong?' Then he felt the arrow in the primate's back. He looked at it and almost fainted.
'I need help!' he cried out, but there was no one left in the library. There was a terrible sigh and fire took hold of the furthest shelves.
Rown lifted Powl in his arms and staggered out of the library. Powl was unconscious, limp in his arms like a sack of grain, but somehow Rown found the strength to reach the courtyard. There other priests realised what must have happened and rushed to Rown's aid. They carried him out of the church wing to the great hall where other wounded and many of the dying had been brought, and laid Powl down on his side. The primate was still breathing when a healing priest and a magiker came to inspect the wound. They looked grim, and shook their heads at Father Rown.
'Oh God, no.' He held the primate's hand in his own and prayed for a miracle. Other priests gathered around and bowed their heads in prayer.
Powl's eyes flittered open. Rown could see them trying to focus on his face. 'Father Rown?' His voice was barely more than a whisper.
'I'm here, your Grace.'
'Have to tell you. Have to tell you about Colanus.'
'Colanus? I don't understand…'
Suddenly the primate's eyes focused clearly on Rown's face. 'No,' he said, his voice stronger in the last flush of life. 'I want to tell you about Primate Northam.'
'Northam?'
Powl grabbed the sleeves of Rown's cloak and tried to lift himself off the ground. 'Father, I killed him.'
'No,' Rown said, smiling sadly. 'You've been hurt, your Grace; you don't know what you're saying.'
'I suffocated him because he wanted you to succeed him instead of me.'
Rown felt his heart skip a beat. 'Me?'
Powl let go of Rown's cloak and slumped back against the floor. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
'You have to know that Northam never told…' Powl stopped and frowned.
'Told you what?' Even as he asked the question he knew what Powl meant. If Northam did not want Powl to succeed him then he never passed on the name of God. He looked at Powl in horror. 'You don't know, do you?'
Powl laughed, which made him cough. More blood seeped from his mouth. 'I'm a fool. It was there all the time. Old Giros did write it down.'
'Wrote what down?' Rown urged.
'Listen, Father,' Powl said, his voice fading again. 'God has a name, and the name is everything that God can be.' He coughed again. His eyes closed and the skin around his cheeks seemed to pull back. 'A single word reveals all there is to know about God.'
'What is it?' Rown asked. 'Your Grace, do you know the name of God?'
Powl whispered a word but Rown did not hear it.
'Please, your Grace, tell me!' He leaned over so his ear was right next to Powl's mouth when the primate whispered the word a second time.
Rown sat back heavily. 'Of course,' he said, astounded. How could it have been anything else?
Powl's chest stopped moving. Rown reached out and closed the primate's eyes. He said a prayer for Powl's soul, but knew with certainty he would not need it. In the end God had given him what he had obviously wanted more than anything else. Forgiveness.
The healing priest returned, and when he saw that Powl had passed away said a quick prayer as well. When he finished he looked up in horror. 'Father! Father! The name of God! Did he pass on the name of God?'
Rown smiled and gently placed a hand on the priest's shoulder. 'Indeed,' he said, and then to himself: Salvation.
The most bitter fighting took place in the palace courtyard. Duke Holo Amptra and the knights repelled every assault at great cost to the enemy.
Areava refused to be taken inside the palace. She would go no further than the steps that led to the great hall where she could watch the fighting in the courtyard. Olio was called for to heal her, but Areava would not let him.
'The wound is not fatal,' she told him. 'And I would be ashamed for this wound to be healed when so many of my people must suffer without any hope at all.'
'Sister, I cannot heal every wound; you know what happened to me last time I did that. But you are the queen. The people need you to be whole—'
'No, brother. They need Grenda Lear to be whole.'
She would not discuss it any further, even when Edaytor Fanhow pleaded Olio's case, promising to make sure Olio did not harm himself.
Areava kept Charion by her side at all times. Charion shed no tears for the death of Galen, and did not pretend that he could somehow have survived the battle for the wall, but Areava could see she was grieving deeply. During a lull in the fighting they told old Duke Amptra what had happened. He nodded grimly and returned to his knights, but he seemed to age another ten years.
'What will happen now?' Olio asked Areava.
'Now we wait for Lynan,' Areava said. 'I do not know what his plans are, but I do know we cannot resist him.' She looked at her brother and said sadly, 'I have lost the Kingdom.'
Lynan stayed near the wall until it was almost sunset. His wound had been so aggravated by the fighting that he found it almost impossible to walk. Korigan reported to him that except for the palace, the city was now entirely under his control.
'Do we know who is in the palace?' he asked.
'We know that Areava was taken there,' Korigan replied, 'and that some knights still defend it. Parts of the palace have burned down. We do not know who is alive and who is not. Perhaps Areava was slain in the fighting.'
'Let us finish this,' Lynan said. 'Get me a horse.'
A mare was brought to him and he was helped into the saddle. With Korigan, Ager and Gudon by his side he rode down from the wall to the palace. On the way he saw what his Chetts had done to many of the houses, and what they had done to those who resisted them, and it filled him with a great sadness. He saw Kendrans looking out at him as he passed, fear on their faces, and that made him feel sad as well. Yet when he finally reached the palace he had fled from the night Berayma was murdered, he found he felt nothing at all. It was almost as if everything that had happened since then had happened to someone else. There was no sense of victory, just exhaustion. Chett archers blocked the way to the courtyard, letting no one in or out. When they saw Lynan approach, one of them came to report.