"Let me," Elizabeth said, putting her hands on Many-Doves ' shoulder.

There was a sheen of sweat on his brow, but Nathaniel shook his head, "This ain't much, Boots. Falling—Day will sew it up. Go on to your brother."

Many-Doves got up. "Fresh water," she said, taking her bowl with her. Elizabeth caught her hand in passing and squeezed it thankfully. Then she glanced into the small room where they had put Julian on the bed. In between the racking coughs, there were voices: Martha and Curiosity, her father.

"Elizabeth," Nathaniel said, holding out his free arm. She went down on her knees next to him and he pulled her in close. "He can't live long. You know that?"

She pushed her face against his neck, and nodded.

"Then go on to him," he said. He was looking at Hannah, who had fallen to sleep in Falling—Day's arms. "If he can still hear you, tell him I said thank you."

* * *

Axel passed her at the door, and stopped when she asked him where he was going.

He sent her a sideways glance, and then frowned at the hat in his hands. "He's asking for Kitty, and her father. I'll go fetch them."

"But it could not be good for Kitty, in her condition—the sight of him like this—"

The old man grimaced. "That's what Curiosity said, too, but what choice is there?"

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, and nodded.

"If you were wondering." Axel's head came up, and he met her eye. "Runs-from-Bears and some of the men went after the Kirbys. I expect they'll bring 'em back in short order."

"But not Liam!" Elizabeth said, grasping Axel by the sleeve. "It was Liam who came to warn us."

Axel's eyes had a strange, cold glitter to them. "If the boy's innocent, he won't suffer for his brother's sins. But you'll note, Miz Elizabeth, that nobody's seen hide nor hair of him since."

Because she could not deny this, Elizabeth tried to think of some reasonable explanation, but a new volley of coughing was rolling through the room like the sound of cloth tearing. She went in to her brother.

* * *

The char and blisters that ran from the side of his head down over Julian's left shoulder and arm were hard to look at, but it was his color which struck most forcibly. His face was ash—white against the pillow slip, but his mouth was an incongruous cherry—red, as if he had made himself up for a masquerade. Curiosity was wiping away the vomit and blood, but the color remained. His garish lips stretched in a grimace over his teeth; his nostrils flared, and then he erupted into that cough, a sound that no human being should be capable of making. She did not know where to touch him, and so Elizabeth stood across the bed from her father and did Julian the favor of not looking away.

He inhaled in a long, racking wheeze and opened his eyes. "Hurts," he whispered.

"Yes, child." Curiosity leaned in next to Elizabeth and gently laid a cloth, damp and pungent—smelling, on the worst of the burns on his neck. His face contorted and then relaxed. She held up a tin cup and he made a clumsy effort to bat it away.

Finally his eyes focused on his father. "Kitty? Is she coming?"

The judge nodded.

Elizabeth leaned in closer. "Julian?"

She waited until the coughing passed, trying not to see the smears of blood and cinders that Curiosity wiped from his chin.

"Julian, we—Nathaniel and I, and Falling—Day, and Bears and Many-Doves , all of us. We wanted to thank you—"

Elizabeth wanted to say other things, but she did not know where to start. She wanted to scream and weep, but she was afraid that if she did, she would not know how to stop.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

"New lungs," he wheezed. And miraculously, a sour grin, the one she had had from him every day of his life, he gave to her now in his last hour.

"I wish that it were in my power.

"The mountain," he said. "Give back the mountain."

She started. Glancing up at her father, she saw the shock draining what was left of his color.

"Julian—" the judge began, but the coughing started again.

On her father's face Elizabeth saw something small and old. She wondered what he saw in her own face, which felt to her as if it must be made of glass, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

There was a sudden silence in the other room, and the Witherspoons appeared at the door. Kitty stood there wrapped in a cape that could not hide her shape, holding the straining edges together over her belly with fingers so tense and white that it would not have surprised Elizabeth to see them snap off. Behind her Mr. Witherspoon was speaking to Nathaniel.

Kitty came forward to look into Julian's face. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then the coughing took over again. Impassive, she watched him convulse with it. Elizabeth could not bear to see it, and so she looked away.

When he could talk again, Julian's voice was less than it had been even a few minutes earlier.

"Will your father—" he began, and then again the long pause, much longer now, while he brought up more of his lungs. When he finished, his voice was so faint that Elizabeth was sure, at first, that she had misheard. Then he repeated himself.

"Will he marry us right now?"

Elizabeth met the judge's shocked gaze, and then she turned to Kitty, whose whole attention was on Julian. There were two spots of hectic red, high on her cheekbones.

She nodded. "Yes."