He stopped at the fortress, before which Dyonis Harvie stood on guard, heavily armed. Eleanor was in the doorway. Seeing Vytal, she came out into the square and spoke to him. “Is it well?”
“An hour will show,” he answered, quietly.
“Then you fear treachery?”
“No, I do not fear it.”
“But you suspect it?”
“Nay, madam, I am fully aware that a general attack is intended. A force of Winginas already threatens our western wall.”
She hesitated, seeming loath to speak her mind, yet compelled by a certain distrust to make known her anxiety. “I hope,” she said, as though half to herself, “that none of the colonists will seek to leave by the Madre de Dios until the issue is certain.” Her voice faltered. “It is my duty to tell you that Ananias plans—”
But Vytal shook his head gravely. “Mistress Eleanor, Ananias Dare is dead!”
“Dead!” she gasped, in a vague, incredulous bewilderment. “Dead!”
“Yes; drowned.”