— 24 —

Lutha spent the night lost in terrifying dreams he could not escape and woke with the sun in his eyes and someone pounding furiously at his door.

“Lutha, are you there? Open in the name of the king!”

Lutha lurched up to find Barieus bent over the washstand, looking back wide-eyed at him, water dripping from his cupped hands. “That sounds like Alben.”

Lutha went to the door, his sweaty shirt clinging uncomfortably to his back between his shoulder blades, and opened the door a crack to peer out.

Alben greeted him with a look of relief. “You are here! When you didn’t appear at the morning meal—”

“I overslept. What’s all the shouting about?” He opened the door wider and found himself facing half a dozen grey-back Guards. He was also aware of Barieus at his back. “What’s going on, Alben?”

“Caliel deserted last night.”

Lutha stared at him in disbelief until cold realization hit. “And you assumed we ran off with him.”

Alben had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Master Porion sent me. Korin’s in a state. He’s already had Cal declared a traitor and set a price on his head.”

“That’s ridiculous! There must be some other explanation.”

“He’s gone, Lutha. Did you know he was planning this?”

“Are you mad? Of course he didn’t!” Barieus cried.

“Perhaps Lord Lutha should answer for himself?” Niryn stepped into view behind his men. “Lord Lutha, you have been seen by witnesses, meeting in secret with Lord Caliel and plotting against the king. I’m only sorry I didn’t take action sooner, before Lord Caliel escaped.”

“Plotting?” Lutha sputtered. “We never—Is that what Korin thinks? Let me talk to him!” He turned, looking frantically for his clothes. Barieus tried to fetch him his trousers, but the grey-backs surged in and seized both of them.

“Alben, you can’t believe this?” Lutha cried as they were dragged away. “Let me talk to Korin. Alben, please! This is Niryn’s doing. Alben!”

They were dragged, half-dressed and struggling, downstairs, in front of all the warriors and nobles gathered there, and out to a damp, dark little cell beside the barracks.

The guards shoved them inside and slammed the heavy door on them, plunging them into darkness. There was a heavy-thud as the thick bar was dropped into place.

“Lutha, what’s going on?” Barieus whispered.

“I don’t know. Maybe Korin’s really gone mad at last.” Lutha found a damp stone wall with his hand and sat down with his back to it, drawing his bare legs up under his shirt. “You saw who came for us. Damn that wizard to the crows!”

There were chinks in the stonework where the roof beams met the wall. As his eyes adjusted he could make out Barieus crouched beside him, and the narrow confines of their cell. It was barely two arm spans wide.

They sat in silence for a while, trying to comprehend this sudden reversal of fortune.

“You don’t think Cal would really turn traitor?” Barieus asked at last.

“No.”

“Then why did he leave like that, without saying anything to you?”

“We’ve only got Niryn’s word that he did. More likely Niryn had him murdered. Damn him! I should have warned Cal.”

“Warn him about what?”

Lutha told him how they’d spied on Korin, and how he’d run into the man afterward. “Niryn probably knew all along. I should have guessed by the way he looked at me. Damn, I should have gone back to Caliel!”

They sat in silence again, glumly watching a thin ray of sunlight track down the wall.

At last they heard the bar being lifted, and daylight flooded the cell, making them blink. A guard tossed in their clothes. “Get dressed. King Korin has summoned you.”

They dressed hastily and were escorted to the hall. Korin sat on his throne, flanked by the two remaining Companions and Niryn’s wizards. Master Porion stood at his right hand today, and he held a long whip in his hand, the same sort that Tobin had been made to use on Ki.

Lutha drew himself up to attention, trying not to let his anger and fear show. He might be barefoot, with straw in his hair, but he was still a Royal Companion and a nobleman’s son.

“A complete search has been made for Caliel. He’s nowhere to be found,” Korin said. “What do you know of this?”

“Nothing, Majesty.”

“Don’t lie to me, Lutha. You’ll only make things worse for yourself.”

“Oh, so I’m a liar now, as well as a traitor?” Lutha snapped. “Is that all you think of me, Majesty?”

“Lutha!” Barieus murmured in alarm.

“Companion, you will address your liege with the proper respect!” Porion barked.

Quivering with outrage, Lutha shut his mouth and fixed his eyes on the floor.

“You will mind your tongue or lose it, my lord,” Niryn said. “Speak the truth, or I will compel you.”

“I always speak the truth!” Lutha retorted, not bothering to hide his disdain for the man.

“I’ve sent my best trackers after him,” Niryn told him. “Lord Caliel will be found and brought back very soon. You only do yourselves harm by lying for him. He’s gone over to Prince Tobin.”

Lutha ignored him. “On my honor as your Companion, Korin, Cal said nothing about leaving or going back to Ero, and we never planned to desert. I swear by the Flame.”

“As do I, Majesty,” said Barieus.

“Yet you admit to sympathizing with the false queen?” Niryn said.

“Sympathizing? I don’t know what you mean,” Lutha replied. Korin was still impassive on his throne, and the distrust in his eyes scared Lutha. “We only thought it was odd you wouldn’t let us go find out the truth about Tobin. But Cal never said anything about leaving! He’s as loyal to you as I am.”

“That may not count for much, Majesty,” Niryn sneered. “If you will allow me, I can soon give you the truth.”

Lutha’s heart sank as Korin nodded. Niryn stepped down from the dais and motioned to the men flanking Lutha. They grabbed his arms, holding him fast.

Niryn stood before him, and made no effort to hide his nasty, gloating smile. “This may hurt a bit, my lord, but it is your king’s will.”

He clasped Lutha under the chin with one cold hand and laid the other on top of his head, palm to Lutha’s brow. His touch made Lutha shudder, like having a snake crawl across your bare foot in the dark. He fixed his gaze on the wizard’s chest. The white robe was spotless, as always; Niryn smelled of candles and smoke and something sweet.

Lutha had nothing to hide. He concentrated on his loyalty to Korin until a bolt of searing pain obliterated all conscious thought. It felt like his head was being crushed and plunged into fire, all at once. He didn’t know if he was still on his feet or not, but felt like he was falling endlessly into a black pit. Despair swept aside pride; he wanted to cry, scream, beg Korin or even the wizard for this torture to end. But he was blinded and lost, his tongue numb in his mouth.

It went on and on, and just when he thought he would die from the pain, he found himself on his hands and knees in the stale rushes at Niryn’s feet, gasping for breath. His head throbbed horribly and his mouth tasted like bile.

Niryn was already gripping Barieus’ head in the same manner. Lutha watched helplessly as his friend stiffened and went white.

“Korin, please! Make him stop,” Lutha begged hoarsely.

Barieus let out a strangled whine. His eyes were open, but unseeing, and his fists were clenched so hard his knuckles showed white through his sun-browned skin. Niryn looked serene, as if he were healing the boy rather than tearing into his soul.

Lutha struggled unsteadily to his feet. “Let go of him! He doesn’t know anything.” He grabbed at the wizard’s arm, trying to stop him.

“Guards, restrain him,” Korin ordered.

Lutha was too weak to fight but he did anyway, struggling fruitlessly between the two guardsmen.

“Lord Lutha, don’t! There’s nothing you can do,” one of them warned.

Niryn released Barieus and the boy collapsed unconscious to the floor. The guards let go of Lutha and he fell to his knees beside him. Barieus’ eyes were tightly shut, but his face still bore a look of utter horror.

“They speak the truth regarding Lord Caliel, Your Majesty,” said Niryn. “They know nothing of his disappearance.”

Was that relief in Korin’s eyes? Lutha was weak with it himself, but it proved short-lived.

Niryn gave him a withering glance. “However, I do find in both of them a strong loyalty to Prince Tobin. I fear their love for him outweighs their loyalty to you, Majesty.”

“No, that’s not true!” Lutha cried, but even as he said it, he feared it might be true. “Please Korin, you must understand. He was our friend! He was your friend! We only wanted you to talk with him, as he asked—”

Korin’s eyes went hard again. “How do you know of that?”

“I—That is, Cal and I—” The words died on his lips.

“He admits to his spying, Majesty,” Niryn said, shaking his head. “And now Caliel has gone to Tobin, no doubt to give him all the particulars of your strength here.”

“No, Caliel wouldn’t,” Lutha said weakly, cringing under the hostile looks from Korin and the other Companions. He knew then that he was lost. He would never be allowed to stand with them again.

Barieus stirred and opened his eyes, then shivered as he saw Niryn standing over them.

Korin stood and advanced on them. “Lutha, son of Asandeus, and Barieus, son of Malel, you are cast out of the Companions and condemned as traitors.”

“Korin, please!”

Korin drew his dagger, his face harsh as winter. The guards held Lutha and Barieus tightly as Korin stepped down from the dais. He cut off their braids and cast them at their feet, then spat in both their faces.

“You are nothing to me, and nothing to Skala. Guards, take them back to their cell until I decide their sentence.”

“No, Niryn’s lying!” Lutha howled, struggling as the guards dragged him and Barieus away. “Korin, please, you have to listen to me. Niryn’s evil. He’s lying to you. Don’t believe him!”

He got no further before his head exploded with pain again and the world went black.

His head still hurt terribly when he came to, and for a moment he thought he’d been struck blind. He could feel that he was lying with his head in someone’s lap and heard the sound of Barieus’ soft weeping, but he couldn’t see a thing. As his mind cleared he recognized the smell of moldy hay and knew they were back in the cell. Looking up, he found the chinks in the wall, but the light was much fainter now.

“How long was I asleep?” he asked, sitting up. He felt gingerly at the back of his head and found a sizable lump, but no blood.

Barieus wiped hastily at his face, probably hoping Lutha hadn’t heard him crying. “A few hours. It’s past midday. I heard the drum beat for the guard change.”

“Well, looks like we’re for it now, eh? Cal was right, all along. Niryn has just been biding his time.” Lutha clenched his fists in helpless anger.

“Why—” Barieus paused, shifting uncomfortably. “Why do you think Caliel left us behind?”

“He wouldn’t desert us, not if he meant to go over to Tobin’s side. I still think he’s dead.” He’d rather that was the truth than think that Caliel had betrayed them.

Nalia lingered on her balcony, waiting nervously to see what was going to happen to the poor boys who’d been dragged out to the cells.

Tomara had brought word of the uproar with the morning tea. Shortly after she arrived with the tray, they heard the clatter of hooves and watched as parties of armed men rode off north and south at a gallop.

“They’re after Lord Caliel,” said Tomara, shaking her head. “We’ll see his head on a spike before the week’s out.”

“How horrible!” Caliel had been particularly kind to her. He was handsome, too, with his golden hair and dark eyes. Korin had always spoken of Lord Caliel as his dearest friend. How could he give such an order?

Nalia had little appetite for her bread and eggs that morning. For the past several days she’d had spells of dizziness and moments of hot nausea that nearly sent her to the basin. She’d said nothing to Tomara or Korin. She’d learned enough from her woman’s prattling to realize what such distemper might signify. Her next moon flow was due in a few days and she was counting the days with a heavy heart. If she were with child, then Korin would never let her go.

Late-afternoon sunlight streamed down through the forest canopy, painting shifting patterns across the moist earth of the game trail Mahti had been following.

Lhel and the Mother had been drawing him north and west instead of south this past week, toward the great bridge. At night, hidden away from prying eyes in forests or deep meadows, he played Sojourner softly and let the songs bring visions of landmarks and vistas to guide him. By day he let his feet take him where his heart guided, and he found them.

Mother Shek’met’s voice was stronger now, so strong that he stopped beneath the spreading arms of a grandmother oak and closed his eyes, swaying slightly as the witch marks tickled and burned under his skin. The sounds of the breeze and birdsong faded around him, obscured by the slow, deep beat of his heart. He brought the oo’lu to his lips and let the song take its own form. He did not hear it, but saw the pictures it made.

He saw a great sea, the one that lay on the other side of the great bridge. He’d heard tales of it and knew it by the lighter blue of its waters. Gulls flew in great flocks over it, and in the distance he saw a huge stone house with high walls.

The song told him of deep sorrow in that house, of spirits broken, and a cold heart that could not be warmed. His path lay in that direction, and he must hurry.

Quickly! the Mother whispered in the silences under the oo’lu’s song.

Mahti lowered the instrument and opened his eyes to find the sun nearly gone from the sky. Shouldering the oo’lu and his food bag, he hurried on. The swift-footed deer that made this path had marked the earth with their cloven hooves. The double-pointed marks guided his bare feet long after the stars came out.

Lutha and Barieus marked the passing of the day by the thin rays of light that tracked across the far wall. Darkness fell, but no one brought them food or water. They could hear guards outside shifting restlessly and muttering among themselves.

Moving slowly to spare his aching head, Lutha crept to the door, hoping for some word of Caliel, but the men outside talked only of gaming and women.

He explored the confines of the cell, even climbing up on his squire’s shoulder to reach the beams and thatch overhead. There was a bucket to piss in, and another for water, but no way out, not even for a clever rat like him.

Past hope, they fell asleep with their backs to the wall and woke the next morning to the grating of the bar. They blinked in the midmorning glare as another man was dragged in and slung down in the straw. He landed facedown, hands bound behind his back, but they knew Caliel by his blood-matted hair. From the looks of him, he’d been beaten and dragged, and probably put up a good fight besides. Two ragged tufts of hair at his temples marked where his braids had been.

The door slammed and for a moment Lutha couldn’t see a thing, still dazzled by the sudden light, but he crawled to Caliel and ran his hands over him, looking for wounds. There was a sizable lump on the side of his head and bloody abrasions on his arms and legs. He didn’t move, but moaned as Lutha felt his chest and sides. His breathing was labored.

“They cracked a rib or two, the bastards,” Lutha muttered. He freed Caliel’s hands and chafed the cold flesh to get the blood moving, then settled down beside him, with nothing left to do but await their fate. The light had shifted to midafternoon on the wall when Caliel finally stirred.

“Cal? We’re here with you. What happened?” Lutha asked.

“They caught me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Grey-backs—and one of those cursed wizards.” He struggled up, blinking in the dim light. The right side of his face was dark with dried blood and his lip was split and swollen. “They wouldn’t fight me properly, but came at me with cudgels. I think the wizard cast a spell on me in the end. I don’t recall anything after that.” He shifted painfully, favoring his side. “What are you two doing here?”

Lutha quickly told him what had happened.

Caliel groaned again. “But that’s why I left the way I did, so you wouldn’t be tied into it and get into trouble!”

“The Toad’s been carrying tales to his master. We’re accused of conspiring with you against Korin.”

Caliel sighed. “Tanil and Zusthra die, but a serpent like Moriel wiggles through and survives. Sakor’s fire, where’s the justice in that?”

“It’s Korin’s justice we’re facing now, and I don’t like our odds,” Lutha replied sadly. “Niryn’s cut us off from him, neat as a tailor.”

“I should have expected this. Damn, if only I’d been able to get away and talked sense to Tobin!”

“I’m sorry you got caught, but I’m glad to know that you didn’t just run off,” Barieus said softly. “At least I can think of that before they hang us.”

“Do you think they will, Cal?” asked Lutha.

Caliel shrugged. “I imagine they’ll hang me but you two didn’t do anything! It’s not right.”

“Nothing’s been right since we left Ero,” Lutha said glumly.

Niryn stood by Korin in the council chamber. He remained silent as the handful of lords debated the traitors’ fates, but he was not idle.

The corridors of the young king’s mind were familiar territory, but he still found surprising twists and turns there, walls of resistance that even his insinuations could not breach. Lord Caliel had been the catalyst for far too many of these, and that little rat-faced one was no better. Deep in his heart, Korin still loved them.

“Your Majesty, they have betrayed you,” Duke Wethring urged. “You cannot be seen as weak! They must be punished for all to see. All of them.”

Korin still clutched three slender braids in his hand: one blonde, one ruddy, and one dark.

Such loyalty, even after his friends have turned their backs on him, thought the wizard. A pity it is so misplaced. Niryn focused again and concentrated on the images it brought him of a younger Prince Korin, lost in the shadow of his family. Sisters who would be queen. Brothers with stronger arms, swifter feet. A father who’d favored this one or that, or so it had seemed to a little boy who was never quite certain of approval until plague carried away his competition. And then the guilt. Even with the others out of the way, he still wasn’t good enough. Niryn had long since found memories of overheard conversations—Swordmaster Porion instructing the other Companions to let Korin win. A deep wound, that, rubbed with salt. Caliel had known.

Niryn gently tended that deep-buried hurt. Korin didn’t suspect a thing, only felt his heart harden as he tossed the braids aside and gritted out, “Yes, you’re right, of course.”

Niryn was pleased.

It was evening when the door swung open again, and Niryn himself stood there, gloating. “You’re to be brought before Korin for judgment. Come now, or would you prefer to be dragged, as you deserve?”

“Be brave,” murmured Caliel as he rose unsteadily to his feet. Lutha and Barieus were already up. No matter what anyone said, they were Royal Companions; they cowered for no man, not even the king.

They stepped from the cell to find a tribunal waiting for them in the courtyard. The garrison was formed up in a hollow square around the yard, and Korin stood on the far side, flanked by Porion and his chief generals.

Their guards marched them to the center of the square. Niryn went to stand at Korin’s right hand, among the generals and nobles.

Lutha glanced around, searching faces. Many simply glared back at him, but a few could not meet his eye.

Korin was dressed in full armor and held the Sword of Ghërilain unsheathed before him.

Porion spoke the charges. “Lord Caliel, you stand accused of desertion and treason. You were expressly forbidden to go to the usurper prince, yet you stole away like a thief in the night to join his camp. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“What can I say, Korin, if you’re too blind to see the truth for yourself?” Caliel replied, lifting his chin proudly. “If you think I deserted you, then you never knew my heart as I thought you did. There’s nothing I can say now to change that.”

“Then you admit you were making for Prince Tobin’s army?” Niryn demanded.

“Yes,” Caliel replied, still speaking to Korin, and Korin alone. “And you know why.”

Lutha saw Korin’s hand tighten around the hilt of his sword. His eyes went flat and dead as he proclaimed, “Disloyalty against one’s lord is the greatest crime for a warrior at any time, but in these dire days, when I expect those closest to me to set an example, it is all the more unforgivable. Caliel and Lutha, you have both questioned my will since we left Ero. I have shown forbearance, hoping you would mend your ways and be the loyal Companions I have known. Instead, you have fomented unrest and doubt among others—”

“What others?” Lutha demanded. “We were worried for you, because—”

A crushing force closed around his heart and throat, choking off his protest. No one else seemed to notice, but once again he found Niryn watching him with amusement. This was magic! Why couldn’t anyone see what he was doing? He swallowed hard, wanting to denounce the man, but the more he tried to force the words out, the harder the pain closed around his throat. He fell to his knees and clutched his chest.

Korin mistook his distress. “Stand up! Shame your manhood no more than you already have.”

It was hopeless. Niryn knew what Lutha wanted to say and was stopping the words in his throat. Staggering to his feet again, he croaked, “Barieus knew nothing of this. He’s guilty of nothing.”

Beside him, Barieus threw back his shoulders and said loudly, “I am Lord Lutha’s squire and follow him in all things. If he is guilty, then so am I. I am ready to share any punishment.”

“And so you shall,” said Korin. “For the crime of disloyalty, you shall first be flogged before this company. Twenty lashes of the cat for Lutha and his squire, and fifty for Caliel, for his greater crime. At dawn tomorrow you shall be hanged, as befits your false friendship and treachery.”

Lutha kept his head high, but he felt like a horse had kicked him in the belly. Despite his harsh words in the cell, he hadn’t really believed Korin would go so far. Even Alben looked shocked, and Urmanis had gone pale.

“All of them hanged?” asked Master Porion, his tone carefully guarded. “Lutha and Barieus, as well?”

“Silence! The king has spoken,” Niryn snapped, fixing the old swordsman with a sharp look. “Would you challenge His Majesty’s wisdom, as well?”

Porion flushed angrily, but bowed to Korin and said nothing more.

“If Master Porion won’t speak, then I will!” Caliel cried angrily. “Before these witnesses, I say that you are unjust. Hang me if you must, but in your heart, you know I was acting on your behalf. You say you are punishing treachery, but I say you are rewarding it.” He cast a scornful look at the wizard. “If you hang these two boys, who have done nothing but serve you loyally, then let this company witness your justice and see it for the evil it is! You have forgotten who your true friends are,” he finished angrily, “but even if you kill me, I will not stop being yours.”

For just a moment Lutha thought Korin might relent. A hint of pain crossed his face, but only for an instant.

“Let the lesser infractions be punished first,” he ordered. “Companions, see to your duty.”

Alben and Urmanis avoided his eyes as they stepped forward and roughly stripped off Lutha’s shirt. Garol and Mago took charge of Barieus and did the same.

A feeling of unreality settled over him as they were led back toward the stone building that housed the cells. There, large iron rings were set high on the wall. Soldiers were already busy, fixing short lengths of rope through them.

Lutha held his head up and looked straight ahead, refusing to give any show of fear. From the corner of his eye, the massed ranks of silent warriors were nothing more than a dark, ominous blur.

He’d witnessed floggings enough to know that twenty lashes was a serious sentence, but the threat of it paled beside the proof that all their years of loyalty and friendship meant nothing to Korin. Not if they could be wiped away so brutally, on nothing more than the word of a wizard.

The other Companions strung them up, binding their hands to the rings with their faces pressed to the rough wall. The rings were so high that Lutha’s feet scarcely touched the ground. It felt like his arms were being pulled from their sockets.

He turned his head, looking at Barieus. He had his lips pressed grimly together, but his eyes were wide with fear.

“Courage,” Lutha whispered. “Don’t let them hear you cry out. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”

He heard movement behind him, and what sounded like a collective intake of breath. A burly, shirtless man with a cloth mask obscuring his face stepped close and showed them the knotted cat they would be punished with. A dozen or more long lengths of cord were fixed to a long wooden handle.

Lutha nodded and looked away. Gripping the iron ring, he braced for the first blow.

It was worse than he could have imagined. Nothing he’d experienced on the practice field or in combat compared to that first brutal stripe. It stole the breath from his lungs and burned like fire. He felt a trickle of blood under his shoulder blade, tracking down his side like a falling tear.

Barieus took the next stroke and Lutha heard his strangled grunt of pain.

The man wielding the cat was well versed in the art. He carefully distributed the stripes, marking them evenly down both sides of their backs and crosshatching the welts, so that every new strike hit already torn skin to cause more pain.

Lutha managed the first few well enough, but by the time the first ten had been meted out he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Barieus cried out at each stroke now, but to the boy’s credit, he was not weeping or begging. Blood blossomed bright and metallic across Lutha’s tongue as he bit his lip and forced himself to silently count down the last few strokes.

When it was over at last, someone cut the rope securing his hands to the ring, leaving his wrists bound together. Lutha’s legs betrayed him and he ended up in a trembling heap in the dirt. Barieus collapsed, too, but was up almost at once. He bent down, holding his bound hands out to Lutha. His face was streaked with tears and blood was running down his sides, but his voice was steady as he said, loud enough for all to hear, “Let me help you up, my lord.”

It gave Lutha the strength he needed. They turned and stood shoulder to shoulder, facing Korin, and Lutha realized that any love he’d felt for him was dead.

Guardsmen pulled them aside roughly and made them stand and watch from close range as Caliel was stretched against the wall. Everyone heard his sharp hiss of pain as his arms were pulled over his head, straining his broken ribs.

How will he stand it? Twenty strokes had left Lutha limp and weak, his back a throbbing mess. Fifty strokes could strip the flesh from a man’s bones, perhaps even kill him, and Caliel was already badly hurt.

Caliel was taller, with longer arms. He gripped the iron ring easily and braced his feet, head bowed. And it began again.

Caliel shuddered under the first few stripes. After ten strokes he was bleeding. After twenty, he was shaking visibly. Each stroke of the cat opened bloody lines across his skin, and after several complete passes over his back the skin was raw and streaming blood.

Perhaps Niryn had secretly instructed the man with the whip not to ruin Cal for the hanging, for he did not open him to the bone, but after the thirty-ninth lash Caliel fainted. Men came forward with buckets of seawater. The cold and the sting of the salt brought Caliel around. He writhed against the wall, biting back a cry, and the punishment proceeded to its conclusion. Caliel bore the rest in the same stubborn silence. When they cut him down he fell insensible to the ground, bleeding into the dirt.

“The king’s justice has been served,” Porion announced heavily. “Take them back to their cell. Tomorrow, they shall be hanged. Let the king’s justice be done.”

Every warrior around the yard struck their sword hilt or bow to his chest. The sharp clatter of obedience went through Lutha’s belly like a knife thrust.

He and Barieus managed to make it back to the cell on their feet, but Caliel was roughly dragged by the arms and dropped facedown in the straw. Lutha fell to his knees beside him, fighting back tears of pain and betrayal.

“Sakor’s Flame, he’ll bleed to death!” he gasped, looking down helplessly at the bloody mess the cat had made of Caliel’s back. “Tell the king he needs a healer, please!”

“Not much point,” one of their gaolers muttered.

“Shut up, you!” the other one snapped. “I’ll ask, Lord Lutha, though I don’t know what he’ll allow. Maker’s Mercy be with you all, whatever happens.”

Lutha looked up in surprise at this kindness. The man wore the red hawk insignia, but his eyes were filled with a mix of pity and disgust. He sent the other man away to ask for a healer but lingered a moment.

“It’s not my place to say anything, my lord,” he whispered, “but all three of you did yourselves proud out there. And—” He paused and stole a nervous glance at the door. “And there’s them that don’t hold with the king’s idea of justice. Maker’s Mercy be with you all.” He stood and hurried out. Lutha heard the heavy bar fall into place.

No healer came. Working painfully with their bound hands, Lutha and Barieus managed to tear strips from the legs of their breeches and laid them across the worst wounds on Caliel’s back to staunch the bleeding. Lutha’s own back burned every time he moved, but he didn’t stop until they’d done what little they could for Caliel.

It was too painful to sit with their backs to the wall, so they stretched out on either side of Caliel, trying to sleep.

Lutha was just slipping into a fitful doze when he felt a foot nudge his own.

“You were brave,” Caliel rasped.

“Not half as brave as you,” Lutha replied. “By the Four, Cal, you spoke your mind and you never cried out, not once!”

“Really? I—I don’t recall much of it.” He mustered a rusty chuckle. “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about the scars, eh?”

“I guess not.” Lutha rested his head on his arm. “Are you frightened?”

“No, and you shouldn’t be, either. We’ll walk up to Bilairy’s gate together, with our heads up. I’m just sorry I got you both into this. Can you forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive,” Barieus whispered. “All any of us tried to do was our duty. Fuck Korin if he’d rather listen to Old Fox Beard.”

It hurt to laugh, but it felt good, too. “Yeah, fuck him!” Lutha gasped. Raising his voice, he yelled hoarsely, “You hear that, Korin? Fuck you, for not knowing how to treat those who loved you! You can just go to—”

“That’s enough,” Caliel croaked. “Both of you, that’s no way to be remembered. It’s not—I don’t think this is all Korin’s fault.”

“How can you still say that?” Barieus hissed bitterly. “He’s going to hang us tomorrow. Are you saying you still care about him?”

“I wasn’t lying out there,” Caliel replied softly. “I should have killed Niryn when I had the chance. I’d rather have hanged for that than die like this. At least that would have done some good. This will be a damn useless death.”

Nalia had watched in horrified fascination as Lord Lutha and his squire were strung up, but after the first few lashes she’d run from the sight and vomited into the basin. Tomara held her until she was finished, then helped her to bed.

“Close the doors!” Nalia begged, pulling the pillows around her ears. She could still hear the sounds of the whip and the cries that drifted up.

Tomara closed the balcony door and all the shutters, then returned to sponge Nalia’s temples with rosewater. “Poor dear, you shouldn’t see such things. You’re too tender for such sights.”

“Those were the king’s Companions!” Nalia gasped. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“There, there. You mustn’t spare any tears for traitors, my dove,” Tomara soothed. “If that’s the worst that happens to them, then King Korin is a more merciful ruler than his grandmother or father ever were. Queen Agnalain would have had them drawn and quartered.”

“Then it’s true?” Korin’s friends had turned against him. She could still almost feel sorry for him, knowing how deeply such betrayal cut, but it frightened her to see what he was capable of. “Tomara, go down among the guards and see what you can learn.”

All too pleased to be sent gossiping again, Tomara hurried off.

Nalia lay back among the pillows, anxious for news. When Tomara did not immediately return, curiosity won out and she went to the window overlooking the courtyard again, and cracked the shutters open.

Lord Caliel hung there now. His back was already bloody and the man wielding the whip was still beating him. At once repelled and fascinated, Nalia began to count the strokes. She reached thirty-one before the flogging was done.

As she watched, Nalia had a revelation. If this was how Korin served his dearest friend, what might he do to her if he ever discovered how, deep in her heart, she now loathed him?

Mahti had walked all night and all day without stopping. He chewed dried snakeroot berries and sang softly under his breath, a tuneless chant that kept fatigue and hunger at bay. By the time he stopped he could see the huge water of his vision shining in the distance, the Sunrise Sea. He stopped, gazing at it in wonder. In the days before the coming of the pale-skinned lowlanders, before his people had been driven back to become mountain dwellers, the Retha’noi had traveled between the two seas and worshipped the Mother. There were sacred places on this lost coast. He wondered if anyone was left to tend them.

He ate a little of the food he’d taken from a house he’d passed, slept for a while in the shelter of an abandoned shed, then walked on, drawn by the shimmer of the sea.

There were no forests here to protect him, only open fields and the scattered houses of lowlanders. In the darkness he saw clusters of light in the distance that marked a town and kept well away from that place.

The Mother’s voice pulled him on until he reached a lowlander’s road. It shone pale in the moonlight and he paused at the edge of it as if it were a swift river that would carry him away if he stepped too carelessly into it. His witch marks tingled and itched again and his eyes closed, but his feet moved. He let them, trusting in Mother Shek’met, whose pale, comforting face looked down on him from the clear night sky. Her light was like cool springwater, soothing his aching legs and parched lips.

He walked on the road for a long time, the dusty packed earth strange under his feet. No deer had walked here, only horses, and their marks gave him nothing. He walked until something hard pressed into the arch of his foot, making him stumble.

He stooped down, surprised by the glint of gold in the hoofprint he’d just stepped in. It was a ring. He’d seen such ornaments on the hands of lowlanders before. This one was damaged, bent in on itself and flattened.

Perhaps a horse stepped on it, he thought. As he turned the bit of metal over in his hand, he saw that part of it was made to look like a bird.

Lhel appeared ahead of him in the road, waving for him to follow. Hurry, she whispered on the night breeze. Hurry, or you will be too late.

In the distance the road divided like a river around a rock. One way went along the cliffs to the east. The other way was narrower, and headed toward the dark shape of a forest. Lhel gestured in that direction and he was glad. It would be good to be among trees again.