From the abandoned house to the second scaffold was not far. Skandra did not worry that his limbs were going to give out on him. They were close enough now to Gershul, to the gateway that had started all of this madness, and Skandra was not going to turn his back now. One of them was going to die here today. Skandra was going to be sure of that in the only way that he could. If it meant that Skandra died, too, it was a price worth paying. He thought of that as he peered into the darkness, waiting to arrive wherever this scaffold was going to take them. Even a few years ago, if you'd asked him, he would have said that he wouldn't give his life for anything except... because no matter how awful things seemed, it was never so bad as it first appeared. There was always something else worth living for.

( Today, he couldn't see it. )

You could see it in the distance, an orange haze that seemed to rise above the mist and stretch out toward the clouds. Such a sight could be seen only as close as they were now, and such a sight was just the sort of thing you wanted to see when you were searching for men off the road, as they were. Ulbarich was peering through a murk of fog and condensation at that very moment. One hand was on the sword at his hip. The other was clutching a fistful of faded stone to steady him. Here they were in the ruins of a temple - and one that had been recently destroyed - yet he did not feel at ease, and he did not feel closer to his god.

( Perhaps they were all simply victims of circumstance. )