"Right," returned the Phantom, having already started into the chamber. A wave of his hand meant Silvryn and Kjan were welcome to follow as they wished, but even as he descended the steps into the flat, circular area that lay at the center of the concentric rings of stone benches, it was easy to tell that his mind was elsewhere. Trying to grasp how he was going to tell them...what he was going to say...

He scanned the faces, reading the anxiety he felt. During his short journey most had quieted. A few of the smaller children still stirred, but for the most part all were waiting to hear what he was going to tell them. That the last haven wasn't a haven any more.

Starting was half done. He gulped a breath.

"Our dear friend the Regent has brought matters to a head," he began, evincing a dry tone that lightened the mood fractionally. His voice, no more than loud, was amplified by the cunning dwarven acoustics. "He has offered us an ultimatum."

Dark gods, look at them all. The Phantom bit back a sudden and violent urge to swear explosively. "He has given us three days," he said, and the words fell into silence. "Three days, and then he expects surrender."

A shiver of shock, though not as large as it could have been, rippled up through the gathered multitude. "Tell him to shove it -!" someone began, and was smothered before they could finish.

The Phantom took another mechanical breath. "The Keep is no longer safe. By the end of three days, any who still remain here will be taken prisoner in the event of an attack."

This time, the benches erupted. Grizzled old men leaped to their feet, shouting that they would fight to their last breath. Young men, many with their wives and babes in arms, were marginally slower. The Phantom waited, expression set.

As soon as the din quieted, he raised his voice again. "No. I am not a leader that will see you all die."

Another murmur. "I will stop none of you from staying if you wish. But the children - and their mothers - must be gone, in three days, and they cannot go alone."

He stepped back, waiting for the reaction. Several women sat with faces buried in their hands, children clinging to them. The sight was heartrending. But the same men who had stood sat tight-lipped and hot-eyed. Not ready for surrender.

The Phantom glanced at Silvryn, managing the barest of smiles. Maybe they'd be all right. Even now.

_________________

Silvryn briefly responded with a faint smile of her own, before staring back out at the crowd. They were scared, and rightly so. But she also saw determination, the same resolve that had allowed them to last this long. These people had endured much already, and they were not about to give up the fight now.

"Our intent is to evacuate via the escape tunnels," she said, her voice carrying easily over the low murmur that had begun to fill the chamber. The crowd grew silent once more. "But not until we ascertain which are still safe to use. In the meantime, begin gathering your belongings. Pack anything that you cannot afford to lose, as we cannot guarantee that you will be able to return. Avoid panic and remember that, above all else, we are a community. You must take care of yourself, but do not abandon others in the process. You will be informed when we have a more detailed evacuation plan in place."

Without another word, Silvryn stepped down from the platform and made for the nearest exit, the Phantom and Kjan following closely behind.

"You didn't mention the situation with the elves," Kjan observed once they had distanced themselves somewhat from the crowd.

"Nor did you," Silvryn returned dryly.

Kjan merely shrugged. "I'm not so much the speechmaking type. I just stand up there and look authoritative, then go make sure everything that's said actually gets done. And I'm not saying that it should have been mentioned - the last thing we need right now is mass hysteria because a legion of bloodthirsty elves may show up at any moment to murder us all. It's just something that I think we need to still bear in mind while we deal with our present preoccupations."

The Phantom was only half listening. He was watching the crowd, trying to pick out individual faces. There was no rush of panic in the press of people, but nor were there smiles. None, not even from the children. Had they all abandoned hope, long ago?

Feeling the inevitable guilt seep past his defenses, the Phantom shook his head and turned back to Silvryn and Kjan. "I might almost like a few homicidal elves right now," he said. "I could give them a run for their money."

And with this comment - half in grim jest, half uncomfortably serious - he shoved his hands in his pockets and resisted the urge to count the hours. "Those leaving will need to be armed. We need someone who knows about safety to look at which tunnels are still usable. And there will be those who want to stay behind."

Their priorities had been decided for them - the refugees first. "I'll look at the tunnels," the Phantom continued after a short pause. "I flatter myself I know something. Kjan, if you could get them armed - Jate and Ash could help you - and Silvryn..."

Suddenly he wondered if it was quite his prerogative to give orders to Silvryn any longer. "Could you gather them - on the fourth level down, east corridors?" he asked, looking directly at her. "It's the easiest way to access the tunnels. But it will take time, to have everyone."

That settled, he strode off down the tunnel, mind already far ahead of him. The next few hours - precious hours - were not ones he wanted to waste.

_________________

Dante had been watching silently, deeply affected by everything he had observed so far. The Keep and the devotion shown by it's occupants were something he had ceased to believe existed. Lost causes such as this were supported weakly by those either young and passionately foolish, or recklessly bored.

But here were men who'd seen the cost of their actions and just picked up the pieces and went on. For the first time in years, Dante felt a flicker of faith in mankind.

They were fools of course. All of them facing a certain death, most of them facing it too soon for their short life. But they were courageous fools. With grim fascination he watched a young man passionately kiss his wife, a kiss of expected death, a last kiss. It lingered in the air, an emotion which Dante had not felt for years, and now it seeped into the air all around him. Passion, in every form.

He'd been determined to insist upon accompanying the refugee's, on getting away from this madness. But the desire seemed hollow now, and he knew he'd never go through with it.

He stood a few paces away from Ash and Kjan, and didn't move. Dante finally grumbled, "Well, if I'm going to die anyway... might as well do it with people I know. So what sticks and stones will you provide us with for weapons?"

_________________
<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Had Kjan been less preoccupied, he might have been surprised by the notion of Dante willingly fighting for anything but himself. But at the present, his only concern was the answer to the cartographer's question. "Not really sure yet," he replied at length. "Hopefully something sharp."

Motioning vaguely to Ash and Jate, who had conveniently shown up a moment ago, he took off in the direction of the armory. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he still hadn't eaten anything. It was going to be a long day.

----------

"I'm coming with you," Cerys stated flatly.

"No, you're not," Kjan replied from his position in the open doorway. "What part of 'women and children' eludes your comprehension? Come on, the first group's about to leave."

Cerys, predictably, didn't move. "Not all of the women are leaving."

Dark gods, had she always been so difficult? Upon further reflection, Kjan concluded that yes, she had been. She could be quite agreeable, if it suited her, but if it didn't...he pitied any trapped in a room with her. Which was precisely why the door to his quarters remained open. "If you would like to be the one to try to make Eledhe or Lady Silvryn do anything, be my guest. Personally, I like my organs as they are - intact."

"Look, I won't be a liability, if that's what you're worried about," she persisted. "I've been doing the same things you were before you got caught, with equal or greater success. I know how to take care of myself."

"Then why was I able to remove the sword from your grasp within five seconds?" he countered. "I barely even had to physically restrain you. You're not fighting."

"My back was turned! I didn't even know you were in the room!"

"My point exactly. This is war, Cerys - it's not all perfectly planned out and fair. If you can't recover from a surprise in a quiet, controlled environment, how can I trust you to last two seconds in a real fight?" Kjan paused to rub his eyes wearily. Everything else today had been equally difficult, if not more so. Couldn't just one little thing not be an ordeal? "As the only male Armadur present, I act for Father in forbidding you to fight."

"As the oldest Armadur present, I say you can't do that," Cerys shot back. "And as the only female, I act for Mother in observing that you are far too thin to have been taking adequate care of yourself, your beard looks positively absurd-"

"I've had more important things than shaving to worry about."

"-and you just cannot resist the opportunity to tell your older sister what to do," she concluded, folding her arms across her chest in a manner that Kjan had to admit rather resembled Lady Armadur. "Grow up, Kjan."

"I did grow up," he replied slowly, somehow managing to keep his tone even. "Considerably more than you did, it would seem. I'll gladly engage in meaningless sibling banter with you at another time - it would be a welcome distraction, in fact - but right now I am entirely serious. This is a matter of life and death, Cerys. Let's be rational adults and treat it as such."

"Alright," Cerys said at length. "I am currently employed as a spy for Phantom Grey, and as a rational adult, I have the right to choose for myself whether I will or will not be fighting."

"And I, as a rational adult, am currently Phantom Grey's second-in-command, often responsible for the smaller issues like this that come up. So, as a rational adult, you are obliged to heed the wishes of your commanding officer, barring a direct order to the contrary from the Phantom."

Kjan evinced a thin, if somewhat self-satisfied, smirk and lifted Cerys's pack off of his bed. "Now, let's go. I'll even be chivalrous and carry your things, provided that it doesn't damage your ego overmuch."

The pain inflicted upon his toes as Cerys stalked out of the room was probably deserved.

----------

Silvryn impatiently searched the crowd yet for the third time in as many minutes. With great difficulty, she and several others had successfully gotten most of the Keep's citizens organized and gathered together in the lower levels, but the people were growing restless. Everyone knew that they needed to begin evacuating as soon as possible, if they were to all get out on time. Every hour lost was another hour in which the commander could change his mind.

Finally, she caught sight of the sought-after rebel leader. It was not an especially difficult task, given that he stood several inches taller than nearly anyone else currently in the crowded room. Far more slowly than she would have liked, Silvryn navigated her way through the masses until she had nearly reached him.

"Phantom!" she called out, struggling to be heard over the noise. "We need to get these people out. What tunnels are still serviceable?"

"You're going to go down this way, take the rightmost tunnel up and west, and follow it until you come out into a cavern. After that, just head through the middle tunnel and follow it until you come out. It should take three hours at most, perhaps a little longer if -"

The Phantom cut off his explanation, faintly registering that someone was calling his name. "Just a moment," he said to the stocky, bearded blacksmith before him, and straightened to scan the milling crowd. Nothing the first time, and then he spotted Silvryn working her way toward him. He waved once, then turned back to the man.

He was middle-aged and grey was working its way into his beard, but the villager was as sharp as ever. "Aye, three hours, y'say?" he prompted impatiently.

The Phantom's gaze flicked over the little group preparing to be the first to depart. "Right," he responded. "You'll be followed by the rest. Leave markings, if you can, so they'll know the way. Understood?"

"Aye. Listen up, you lot -" and the smith had turned to relate his instructions to the rest.

The Phantom intercepted Silvryn before moving on to the next group. "I found a map," he explained. "The route they're taking is stable enough, and if all the groups can get through that way, we'll do that. If not, I have an alternate one..." He trailed off, digging in his pocket and spread the map to show to her. He had to bend and speak nearly in her ear to be heard over the noise.

Managing - fairly well - to ignore the substantial distractions this brought, he found the route he'd penciled in. "See? - but the groups should be small, not more than forty or so at a time."

_________________

"Right," Silvryn replied absently, studying the map closely. The route seemed easy enough, provided that there were no surprise encounters. She still was not entirely comfortable with sending the refugees unaccompanied into the wilderness, but they had a better chance of survival out there than they did if they remained in the Keep.

Finished with the map, she looked back up at the Phantom. "As soon as the first group is away, I think we need to begin discussing our plans beyond this. Kjan made a valid point this morning. Getting everyone out is a good beginning, but there are many other concerns that we must address within the next three days."

"Like the fact that our weapons supply only equips two-thirds of those fighting, at best?" Kjan interjected, coming up with Cerys still in tow. He turned to the Phantom. "I can supervise the first few departures, if you'd like. There's no sense in tying up all three leaders with a relatively simple task. You two could get started on the planning, and then I could meet you at your quarters once everything's running smoothly down here."

"Those fighting," repeated the Phantom, grimacing. "If there's no way to arm them all, there's no reason for them to stay." He'd lost track of the hours. How many were left now? He scanned the cavern, milling with people and echoing with subdued chatter, and tried to mentally account for all those who had declined the opportunity to leave.

Nearly all those on guard duty. Throughout the afternoon, he'd been accosted with "Phantom, sir!" and "Lad, a word?", all ending with his reluctant acceptance of their services. He'd flatly refused several boys with years to go before they could even shave. The ones he'd been unable to deny a chance to help were still performing their duties - guards, lookouts, some scouting, one last time, the tunnels he'd marked.

Shaking himself from the recollection, the Phantom folded his map and stuffed it back in his pocket. "Right, planning," he said vaguely. "Kjan, any that you see not planning to depart, tell any except those on night guard duty to meet...well, choose a meeting place, and I'll explain our situation in more detail to them - and our plan. Later."

Except that required having a plan. He dug the map out again and handed it to Kjan. "Right. So explain that route to them, and give whoever's the leader an explanation of the alternate route. They should be going every hour. Maybe every half hour. You can decide based on the size of the group. Don't let anyone bring anything they won't be able to carry, and make sure they watch the kids. I've told the ones who won't fit to come later tonight, when some of the groups will have already gone, so they should be arriving - soon - I think -"

He broke off, and ended with a strained grin. "Or just make sure no one gets killed."

_________________

"You make it sound easy," Kjan muttered wryly, with a forced grin of his own. "Establish a meeting place, explain route, no less than half an hour between, moderate loads, and don't let any small children get trampled. I think I've got it. You go have fun planning and whatnot." He waved dismissively, then left in search of the leader of the first party.

Silvryn glanced discreetly over at the Phantom, searching for any sign that he was feeling uncomfortable about the thought of it being just the two of them planning for what could be an extended period of time. There was none that she could readily make out, so she resolved to likewise take no notice of it. After all, there was no sense in making a scene out of one brief, spur-of-the-moment kiss. It had scarcely even been enough to count. Certainly no reason to postpone much-needed planning.

Evincing a faint smile, she looked to the Phantom. "Shall we, then?"

The Phantom stared at her for a minute before quite assimilating the words. "Oh," he said "Right. Yeah. Let's go."

Must stop being so distracted. He offered tight smiles to those who nodded to him while they made their way through the crush of people in the chamber. The din, a low roar of many voices in simultaneous discussion, began to fade in the corridor outside, though many were still hastening down past the pair of them to join their friends and relatives.

The Phantom shoved his hands in his pockets, forcibly bending his thoughts toward the looming problem of what to do once that third morning dawned. He had no ideas - not in the face of all the other worries. There must be something, something they could do.

He coughed, realizing that conversation was nonexistent. "The devious Phantom Grey is lacking in the area of ingenious plans," he said. "I don't suppose the devious Silvryn Seilhera is further ahead?"

_________________

"I have been thinking," Silvryn stated vaguely, though she made no attempt to say anything further. She had been thinking rather intently, actually, over the course of the day. And no matter what variables she threw in, no matter how optimistically she tried to look at it, one sobering truth kept resurfacing: They could not win this fight. They had too few men, too little time, too much to lose. She rarely considered situations to be entirely hopeless, but this one was proving to be an exception.

The Phantom knew as well as she how dire the circumstances were, she was certain. There was no need to state the obvious. But unlike the Phantom, Silvryn saw a solution - not one that she especially liked, but the only logical conclusion that she could reach. And it involved the one thing that they had sworn to never do.

"I think," she said at length, "that we need to consider the option of surrender."

The Phantom's instinctive reaction was to blink and wonder if he'd just heard what he thought he had.

The walls suddenly felt suffocating. "Surrender?" he repeated blankly. "Give them what they want?"

That course of action rolled out a carpet of events in his mind. Surrender. Lose the Keep. The Keep, the last haven for five years, the impenetrable fortress. Of course they weren't going to lose the Keep. Because if they lost the Keep, they'd lose the battle. There'd be nowhere else to go. Nowhere except to Y'rydha, where a hangman's noose waited, nowhere except defeat.

He was Phantom Grey! He was the one people whispered about, he was the one who'd promised to save them! He was Phantom Grey, whose plans never failed, who could escape anything, win a victory anywhere.

A glance at Silvryn revealed her to be deadly serious. Not that she'd ever been much of a one for joking. The Phantom shook himself from his stupor.

"That's not an option," he found himself saying more forcefully than he intended. "Surrender isn't an option. It was never an option and it isn't now." Had anyone else proposed it, he might have laughed outright in their faces. He could not read the slightest hint of levity in her face. Did she really think -?

"Surrender is for after we've tried everything," he said, pounding a fist into his palm for emphasis. "For when there is nothing else to do. That's not now."

That settled, he stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "The only way they have the power to get in here has got to be catapults or ballistas. If we can sabotage those, they're handicapped, and all the entrances are magically protected."

_________________

Jate watched in bewildered confusion as people scurried left and right around him. He was standing in the tunnel outside the armory, having to turn away more hopefuls from getting the weapons they desperately lacked. For a while, he had been kept busy handing out swords, quivers, daggers, anything that could be used as a weapon to those the Phantom sent this way. They had run out, though, and sooner than one would have expected. Now, surveying the moving throng, Jate wondered how they could possibly hold against a trained army no matter how much they had. There were lads his age and men as old as his father, but they had the calloused hands of farmers and blacksmiths, not fighters.

Jate had no doubt that they would fight to the last man, but there had to be alternatives to annihilation.

"There has to be some way to get to the Regent," He turned and half-vented to Ash. "I mean, there must be a way undercover or something into the city. And I'm pretty sure that if all of us put our heads together, we can come up with some idea."

_________________
going on a journey through my old claims

"Even assuming that we are able to successfully sabotage their weaponry, they have the Keep surrounded," countered Silvryn. "They do not have to get in - they need only to keep us from getting out until our stores are exhausted. The tunnels will be found eventually; we cannot rely on them for transportation. Whether this is to be a waiting game or a battle, they will eventually win."

She paused, taking a slow breath to steady herself. "My position has not changed since two nights ago," she continued evenly. "I hate the Regent. You, of all people, should know that. And I hate to even consider his reaction when he learns that we have ostensibly given up. But we must consider the full implications of this. If we fight, countless lives will be lost - including that of the last legitimate heir to Kytana's throne. And the more lives that are lost, the more vulnerable Kytana will be when Raen inevitably attacks."

"But, if we choose to surrender peacefully, then we will be taken into custody. The Regent loves to flaunt his victories; he will not be able to resist the opportunity to show all of Y'rydha their defeated hero before he is executed. But the Regent does not know how many forces we truly have - the handful he will have in custody could be the entire rebellion, or we could have thousands more poised to attack. That uncertainty will place us in more of a position to negotiate, hopefully leading to a stronger resistance again Raen."

Silvryn looked up at the Phantom, steadily meeting his gaze. "If we are to win this war, Phantom, we must forfeit this battle."

"No. We cannot take that risk," the Phantom countered instantly. "You cannot take that risk. What if he decides to take care of his heir problem once and for all?"

They passed another cluster of people hurrying down the passage and he broke off, but even a terse smile was impossible. When the interruption had passed the Phantom threw a glance over his shoulder and continued in an undertone. "Aye, perhaps he'd let me live from arrogance, but what about you? What about Jate, what about Kjan? Everyone who stayed to fight, everyone who believes there's hope left - there won't be hope left for them, if the Keep is gone!"

It was an effort to keep his voice low, and the strain made it crack on the last word. "They had something to believe in. I can't take that away."

_________________

Silvryn's immediate reaction was immense frustration. The Phantom was being impossibly stubborn, acting as though choosing to fight would not be just as much of a death sentence for all involved. At least surrender delayed the process, left more opportunity for escape from a fate that was beginning to seem inevitable. She opened her mouth to retort sharply, only to abruptly snap it shut again and force her gaze back to the corridor before them.

Could she blame him, truly? The prospect of surrender was no more appealing to her, obviously. There was a reason that it had required an entire day of contemplation for her to realize that there was no realistic alternative. And given the Phantom's penchant for tenacity, even when it was contrary to all reason, it should have come as little surprise that the thought of surrendering had not yet even crossed his mind. They had all sacrificed too much for this rebellion to simply give it up overnight.

"Phantom..." she began at length, her tone more subdued than it had been a moment ago. She had intended to say something further, perhaps make some attempt reassurance, but one glance at his expression confirmed that her efforts would be wasted. Now was not the time. Silvryn sighed quietly, selecting a different course of action. "We will discuss this later, when the others are present to share their insights as well."

They both grew quiet once more as they passed another small group of men, only this time the silence remained unbroken until they had reached the Phantom's quarters. There was a pause as Silvryn waited for him to open the door, making an effort to not consider what had occurred the evening before under similar circumstances.

"I predict half an hour before Kjan grows bored and foists the task of supervision upon someone else," she commented dryly.