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.... My careful, ordered garden had been ravaged, the last of my winter crops ripped up in clotted handfuls. Everywhere the ground was churned and spoiled by heavy, careless boots. If I survived, by some miracle, I would be returning to starvation.

    Seeing the wisdom of having me fit to lead them, they allowed me to dress, freeing my ankles. My wrists were loosed and then tied again in front and I was given bread and water from my own stores. Pitiful; that I had to be given sustenance from my own supplies by the thieves who had stolen them.

    They had two trackers, who went ahead of us as we set off, searching the ground. I stumbled along, my feet still numb. The soldiers surrounded me, silent mostly, speaking only when it was essential. I cursed Malcolm Reiffert, and cursed myself still more for bringing him into my home.

The face in the falls

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