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nst a bunch of men； fending them off with great sweeps like a swordsman at bay。。 Whether it was a quarrel that had spread and bee a riot； or an attack by a gang of thieves； or a fight between two rival lots of peddlers； there was no telling。 People rushed by with armfuls of goods that could be loot or their own property saved from looting。 There were knifefights； fist…fights； and brawls all over the square。 〃That way；〃 said Arren； pointing to a side street that led out of the square near them。 He started for the street； for it was clear that they had better get out at once； but his panion caught his arm。 Arren looked back and saw that the man Hare was struggling to his feet。 When he got himself erect； he stood swaying a moment； and then without a look around him set off around the edge of the square； trailing his single hand along the house walls as if to guide or support himself。 〃Keep him in sight；〃 Sparrowhawk said； and they set off following。 No one molested them or the man they followed； and in a minute they were out of the marketsquare； going downhill in the silence of a narrow； twisting street。
Overhead the attics of the houses almost met across the street； cutting out light； underfoot the stones were slippery with water and refuse。 Hare went along at a good pace； though he kept trailing his hand along the walls like a blind man。 They had to keep pretty close behind him lest they lose him at a cross…street。 The excitement of the chase came into Arren suddenly； his senses were all alert； as they were during a stag…hunt in the forests of Enlad； he saw vividly each face they passed； and breathed in the sweet stink of the city： a smell of garbage； incense； carrion； and flowers。 As they threaded their way across a broad； crowded street he heard a drum beat and caught a glimpse of a line of naked men and women； chained each to the next by wrist and waist； matted hair hanging over their faces： one glimpse and they were gone； as he dodged after Hare down a flight of steps and out into a narrow square； empty but for a few women gossiping at the fountain。
There Sparrowhawk caught up with Hare and set a hand on his shoulder； at which Hare cringed as if scalded； wincing away； and backed into the shelter of a massive doorway。 There he stood shivering and stared at them with the unseeing eyes of the hunted。
〃Are you called Hare？〃 asked Sparrowhawk； and he spoke in his own voice； which was harsh in quality； but gentle in intonation。 The man said nothing； seeming not to heed or not to hear。 〃I want something of you；〃 Sparrowhawk said。 Again no response。 〃I'll pay for it。〃
A slow reaction： 〃Ivory or gold？〃
〃Gold。〃
〃How much？〃
〃The wizard knows the spell's worth。〃
Hare's face flinched and changed； ing alive for an instant； so quickly that it seemed to flicker； then clouding again into blankness。 〃That's all gone；〃 he said； 〃all gone。〃 A coughing fit bent him over； he spat black。 When he straightened up he stood passive； shivering； seeming to have forgotten what they were talking about。
Again Arren watched him in fascination。 The angle in which he stood was formed by two giant figures flanking a doorway； statues whose necks were bowed under the weight of a pediment and whose knotmuscled bodies emerged only partially from the wall； as if they had tried to struggle out of stone into life and had failed part way。 The door they guarded was rotten on its hinges； the house； once a palace； was derelict。 The gloomy； bulging faces of the giants were chipped and lichen…grown。 Between these ponderous figures the man called Hare stood slack and fragile； his eyes as dark as the windows of the empty house。 He lifted up his maimed arm between himself and Sparrowhawk and whined； 〃Spare a little for a poor cripple； master。。。〃
The mage scowled as if in pain or shame； Arren felt he had seen his true face for a moment under the disguise。 He put his hand again on Hare's shoulder and said a few words； softly； in the wizardly tongue that Arren did not understand。
But Hare understood。 He clutched at Sparrowhawk with his one hand and stammered； 〃You can still speak… speak… e with me； e…〃
The mage glanced at Arren； then nodded。
They went down by steep streets into one of the valleys between Hort Town's three hills。 The ways became narrower； darker； quieter as they descended。 The sky was a pale strip between the overhanging eaves； and the house walls to either hand were dank。 At the bottom of the gorge a stream ran； stinking like an open sewer； between arched bridges； houses crowded along the banks。 Into the dark doorway of one of these houses Hare turned aside； vanishing like a candle blown out。 They followed him。
The unlit stairs creaked and swayed under their feet。 At the head of the stairs Hare pushed open a door； and they could see where they were： an empty room with a strawstuffed mattress in one corner and one unglazed； shuttered window that let in a little dusty light。
Hare turned to face Sparrowhawk and caught at his arm again。 His lips worked。 He said at last； stammering； 〃Dragon。。。 dragon。。。〃
Sparrowhawk returned his look steadily； saying nothing。
〃I cannot speak；〃 Hare said； and he let go his hold on Sparrowhawk's arm and crouched down on the empty floor； weeping。
The mage knelt by him and spoke to him softly in the Old Speech。 Arren stood by the shut door； his hand on his knife…hilt。 The grey light and the dusty room； the two kneeling figures； the soft； strange sound of the mage's voice speaking the language of the dragons； all came together as does a dream； having no relation to what happens outside it or to time passing。
Slowly Hare stood up。 He dusted his knees with his single hand and hid the maimed arm behind his back。 He looked around him； looked at Arren； he was seeing what he looked at now。 He turned away presently and sat down on his mattress。 Arren remained standing； on guard； but； with the simplicity of one whose childhood had been totally without furnishings； Sparrowhawk sat down cross…legged on the bare floor。 〃Tell me how you lost your craft and the language of your craft；〃 he said。
Hare did not answer for a while。 He began to beat his mutilated arm against his thigh in a restless； jerky way； and at last he said； forcing the words out in bursts； 〃They cut off my hand。 I can't weave the spells。 They cut off my hand。 The blood ran out； ran dry。〃
〃But that was after you'd lost your power； Hare； or else they could not have done it。〃
〃Power。。。〃
〃Power over the winds and the waves and men。 You called them by their names and they obeyed you。 〃
〃Yes。 I remember being alive；〃 the man said in a soft； hoarse voice。 〃And I knew the words and the names。。。〃
〃Are you dead now？〃
〃No。 Alive。 Alive。 Only once I was a dragon。。。 I'm not dead。 I sleep sometimes。 Sleep es very close to death； everyone knows that。 The dead walk in dreams； everyone knows that。 They e to you alive； and they say things。 They walk out of death into the dreams。 There's a way。 And if you go on far enough there's a way back all the way。 All the way。 You can find it if you know where to look。 And if you're willing to pay the price。〃
〃What price is that？〃 Sparrowhawk's voice floated o