"Die?" Dodd asked, and then: "Oh. I see. The other—"
There was a long silence. Cadnan watched Dodd calmly. Dodd had turned again to stare out into the hallway, his hands nervously moving at his sides. Cadnan thought again of going past him, but then Dodd turned and spoke, his head low.
"I've got to tell you," he said. "I came here—I don't know why, but maybe I just came to tell you what's happening."
Cadnan nodded. "Tell me," he said, very calmly.
Dodd said: "I—" and then stopped. He reached for the door, held it for a second without closing it, and then, briefly, shook his head. "You're going to die," he said in an even, almost inhuman tone. "You're both going to die. For trying to escape. And the whole of your—clan, or family, or whatever that is—they're going to die with you. All of them." It was coming out in a single rush: Dodd's eyes fluttered closed. "It's my fault. It's our fault. We did it. We...."
And the rush stopped. Cadnan waited for a second, but there was no more. "Dara is not to die," he said.
Dodd sighed heavily, his eyes still closed. "I'm—sorry," he said slowly. "It's a silly thing to say: I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do." He paused. "But there isn't. I wish—never mind. It doesn't matter. But you understand, don't you? You understand?"
Cadnan had room for only one thought, the most daring of his entire life. "You must get Dara away."
"I can't," Dodd said, unmoving.
Cadnan peered at him, half-fearfully. "You are a master." One did not give orders to masters, or argue with them.