"Maybe he lost it," Alec suggested, giving up. "Or someone took it. I say we look for it at Ulan i Sathil's house." He held up the tassel again. "They certainly have reason to want Klia out of the way, they had her and Torsin in easy reach, and they'd know about that snake poison."

Seregil tapped a finger against his lips, frowning as another thought occurred. "The same might be said of most of the eastern clans. The Ra'basi, for instance."

Alec groaned. "Oh, Illior, are we back to that again?"

"Back to what?" asked Thero.

"Maybe nothing, except that I haven't quite trusted Nyal since we met," Seregil explained, taking little pleasure in the thought. "The Ra'basi aren't exactly neutral parties in the negotiations, and as Alec just pointed out, they'd have knowledge of the poison in question."

"Anyone could have known," Thero pointed out.

"Yes, but who else has come and gone here freely from the start? With the exception of the Bokthersans, what Aurenfaie has had closer contact with Klia and Torsin?"

"And Beka," Alec added unhappily.

"But he's the one who alerted you to the poison!" Thero exclaimed.

Seregil shrugged. "He wouldn't be the first murderer to cover his tracks by bustling in helpfully after the damage is done. He's been everywhere Klia has the past day or so. He knew Torsin was ill, and how the poison worked."

"But that seems like all the more reason not to tell us what it was," Alec insisted. "Go slowly with this, Seregil. Accusing him falsely won't hurt just him. Think of Beka."

"Yes, but what about his tragic romantic attachment to Amali a Yassara? You once said you thought I disliked him because he was too much like myself. If you're right, we have good reason to distrust him. How many times do you suppose I've ingratiated myself with a mark, or gotten into a place to spy by way of the bedchamber?"

Alec gave him a humorless smirk. "More often than I want to know about, obviously."

"The Akhendi could be his next targets for all we know," mused Thero.

"I say we keep quiet until we have more proof," Alec warned, still doubtful. "Beka's already given orders to keep out anyone but Bokthersans. Can't we let it go at that for now?"

"We're a long way from making any accusations yet," Seregil admitted, running a hand back through his tangled hair. "In the meantime, I don't want him to guess we suspect him. Just make certain he's not left alone with Klia."

"All the same, there are still too many other possibilities," said Thero. "If Klia and Torsin were both poisoned at the Viresse banquet, which seems as good a theory as any, then it narrows our field of suspects down to—"

"Just about everyone in the whole damn city," Alec finished for him. "There were hundreds of people there."

"Except Emiel i Moranthi," said Seregil.

"We're standing on smoke," Alec muttered.

"Yes, we are," Seregil agreed. "But this is a start toward something more solid." He took a last look at Torsin's hand; with the dark blood cleaned away, the puncture mark was practically invisible again. "I want you to keep this discovery to yourselves for a while. Act as if you think his death was a natural one."

"What about Nyal?" asked Thero.

"Tell him we found nothing. If he or someone else knows otherwise, sooner or later they may let it slip." Arranging the dead man's

hands on his chest, Seregil turned for the door. "Let's go see what our helpful Ra'basi is up to now."

They didn't have far to go. Emerging from Torsin's room, they met Nyal and Mydri in the hall, accompanying Klia as she was carried to her bedchamber on a litter.

Dread washed over Seregil, seeing the pallor of death in her face. Only the slight rise and fall of her chest showed she still lived.

"An infusion of black tea steeped in brandy may help her breathing," Nyal advised. "Otherwise, there's little to do but keep her warm and wait for it to run its course."

Looking up at Seregil, he raised an expectant eyebrow. "Was Torsin poisoned, do you think?"

"No. It's as we thought, a failure of the lungs."

The Ra'basi seemed to accept this. Even as he surreptitiously watched him, however, Seregil felt a twinge of regret, thinking again of Nyal's kindness to him after his ill-fated walk in Haman tupa. In spite of everything else he might suspect, somewhere along the way, he'd begun to like the man.

When Klia was settled in bed, Alec showed them a tiny spot of blue between her fingers. Even with the lissik, it was just a pinprick surrounded by a patch of bleached flesh.

"It's spreading," Nyal said, frowning as he pressed at the white skin.

"This is what apaki'nhag bites look like?" asked Seregil.

"Yes, but not until after the person has already sickened. The venom slowly kills the flesh around the bite. This area will turn black soon and may have to be cut away, if she survives."

No wonder they'd missed the bite on Torsin, thought Seregil. Not only was the hand bloated from being in the water, but Torsin had died too quickly for the telltale signs to appear.

"If?" Alec croaked. "But she's made it this long—"

Nyal placed a hand on his shoulder. "There are many kinds of apaki'nhag, some more venomous than others. The symptoms are the same, only the result differs. Some victims survive unscathed. Others are left blind or crippled."

Seregil pressed a hand to Klia's moist brow, then bent close to her ear. "No matter what happens, I'm not leaving Aurenen until I know who did this to you, and why."

He straightened and looked at Nyal a moment without speaking.

"What is it?" the older man asked.

"This is a dangerous time for us here. Your own clan may fall under suspicion before I'm finished. Will you stand by us?"

"As long as I can act with honor," Nyal assured him earnestly. "What of Beka's order, though? I'm not even supposed to be here."

"Keep to the barracks for now. I'll sort it out when she gets back. If you need to go out, be sure to let someone know in case Mydri needs you."

"I'll do whatever I can." With a last sad look at Klia, Nyal went out. Seregil counted to three, then peered around the doorframe in time to see the Ra'basi meet Sergeant Mercalle and several of her riders on the back staircase. They spoke briefly, then Nyal continued down.

Seregil stepped out to meet Mercalle.

"We're here to relieve Rhylin," she told him.

Mydri came out to join them. "Seregil, would you ask one of the cooks to send up a honey poultice, hot water, and clean rags? I'm going to do everything I can to save that hand."

Kheeta hurried up the front stairs. "Is Alec here? Saaban and the others are waiting out front."

"I'm here," Alec said, coming out to join them. "I'll be there in a moment."

"You'd better wear your sword," Seregil said.

Alec glanced down in surprise. "I've gotten out of the habit. It's upstairs."

Seregil clasped him by the shoulder. "Good hunting, tali, and be careful."

Alec smiled slightly. "I was about to say the same to you. I've got the easier task, I think."

"Probably. I doubt Ulan will be glad to see me again so soon."

He watched Alec out of sight, then went out the back way toward his sister's house.

Alec retrieved his sword belt from the bedpost and buckled it on as he hurried back down. In his haste, he nearly fell over Beka, who was sitting alone on the stairs just below the second-floor landing. She shifted closer to the wall but remained where she was, the picture of exhaustion.

"When did you get back?" he asked.

"Just now. I'm on my way up to see her, but I needed a moment alone. This seemed as good a place as any."

"There's no change."

"So I heard. It's good news in its way, I guess."

"Have the Haman done anything interesting?"

"Not a thing. Steb told me about Seregil's run-in with Emiel last night. Is he all right?"

"Oh, yes. Seems more his old self than he has for days, in fact." Alec hesitated, then said quietly, "About Nyal—"

"You think he has something to do with all this, don't you?" She looked down at her clasped hands.

"Seregil does, but so far it's just a hunch."

She sighed. "I've asked him to come back to Skala with me."

Alec blinked in surprise. "What did he say?"

"He asked me to stay. I can't."

"Are you—I mean, I heard—" Alec broke off, feeling himself blushing.

"Pregnant?" Beka favored him with a dark look. "Heard about the bounty, did you? It wasn't an order, just an opportunity. Kipa and Ileah think they may be. It's not the road for me." She yawned suddenly, pressing a hand over her mouth. "You'd better get moving."

"And you'd better get some rest." Alec started down, then paused a few steps below her and reached to grip her by the knee. "Just— well, be careful."

She gave him a sour scowl. "I'm not love blind, Alec. I just hope Seregil's wrong."

"So do I."

33

Backtracking

A sizable entourage awaited Alec in front of the house. Saaban and Kheeta had half a dozen kinsmen with them, all with swords and bows. Braknil and his decuria flanked them, dressed for battle.

"Have you something of Klia's for me?" asked Saaban, his long face graver than usual beneath his dark green sen'gai.

Alec handed him the tunic Klia had worn to the hunt, still stained with dirt and blood. Saaban held it between his hands for a moment, then nodded. "Good. The feeling of her khi is strong. I can even sense her illness. If she touched some object that caused her harm and it is there, I should be able to sense it. It does take great concentration, however. I can't just ride along picking things out of the air."

"But if I show you where she fell, you could check the immediate area, couldn't you? Emiel may have dropped the ring or whatever it was into the stream."

Saaban shrugged. "It is possible."

Possible. Alec sighed, doubting they'd come back anything but empty-handed. "All right, then. Let's get going."

They followed the same route as before, riding hard for stretches, stopping when Alec recognized places they'd halted the previous day.

This was the first time since his arrival that he'd had the opportunity for any extended conversation with Saaban, and it occurred to Alec as they rode that if not for the standing ban against Seregil, he and Saaban would be calling each other kin.

The man's quiet demeanor made him easily overlooked at banquets. Today, however, he proved to be a valuable companion, a skilled and patient tracker. He reminded Alec of Micum Cavish, and the similarity was underscored by the sword at Saaban's side. The hilt was worn with use, the scabbard scarred and weathered.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Alec said as they combed a site together on foot. "Killing is forbidden, and murder is rare among the 'faie, yet your sword has clearly seen some use."

"As has yours," Saaban replied with a knowing look at Alec's scabbard. "We fight Zengati raiders, mostly. The slavers grow bolder by the decade."

"I thought Seregil's father made peace with them?"

"With some, not all. They're a tribal people, not controlled by any one ruler. Rather like the Aurenfaie, I suppose," he added with a fleeting smile.

"And there are bandits in the mountains, too," said Kheeta, whose scabbard showed considerably less wear. "There's a troublesome band of them who range north of Bokthersa—a real mongrel pack: teth'brimash, mostly, with some Zengati and Dravnians mixed in. They steal, slave, whatever takes their fancy." He tugged proudly at his lock of white hair. "That's how I got this. The first time I went out to fight them, one of the faithless bastards tried to take my head off. I dodged just in time to get away with a nick, then returned the favor, but lower."

"We may abhor fighting, but those of us who live on the coasts and borders must train our children to the bow and sword as soon as they can hold them," said Saaban.

"Then it wasn't just life in Skala that made Seregil so good?"

Kheeta snorted. "No, he comes from a long line of swordsmen: his father, his uncle, their father before them."

"That's the way it is with our people, too," said Sergeant Braknil, who'd been following the conversation.

"I've watched you Skalans at your practices," said Kheeta. "I would rather fight beside you than against you."

"We should put on a demonstration for the Iia'sidra," Alec joked. "Maybe that would sway them to helping us."

"The final outcome of the vote will have little to do with Skala." Saaban told him.

"What about what's happened to Klia and Torsin? I thought the harming of a guest was a great crime, especially at Sarikali," said Alec.

"It is a grievous offense, but it is a matter of atui, not unlike what happened when Seregil committed his unfortunate act. Bokthersa was banned from the Iia'sidra until the matter was tried and teth'sag satisfied, just as the Haman are now."

"It was only out of respect for the rhui'auros that the matter was settled as it was," said Kheeta.

"The rhui'auros?" Alec looked at the two men in surprise.

Saaban exchanged a look with Kheeta. "Then it is true. Seregil has not told you what happened."

"Not much." Alec shifted uncomfortably. "Just that the Iia'sidra spared his life after he was questioned by a rhui'auros."

"It was the rhui'auros who saved Seregil from execution, not the Iia'sidra," Saaban explained. "His guilt was clear and the Haman demanded the two bowls in spite of his youth. Korit i Solun did not contest the sentence. Before it could be carried out, however, a rhui'auros intervened, asking that Seregil be brought to Sarikali. He was in the Nha'mahat for three days. At the end, the rhui'auros themselves ordered his banishment. Seregil was transported directly to Viresse and sent to Skala."

"Three days?" Alec recalled how uneasy Seregil had been that night they'd gone there. "What did they do to him?"

"No one knows exactly, but I was there when he came out afterward," Kheeta replied, suddenly grim. "He wouldn't look at any of us, and wouldn't speak. The ride to Viresse took over a week, and he hardly said a word the whole way. The one time I got close enough to talk to him, he said he wished they'd just killed him."

"Some say the rhui'auros took part of his khi from him," Saaban murmured.

"I think it was Ilar who did that," said Alec. "But you said that what's happened here now is somehow the same?"

"In some ways," the older Bokthersan replied. "As a descendant of Corruth i Glamien, Klia may be able to claim teth'sag. In the meantime, a clan under suspicion cannot vote."

"And if guilt is not proven?"

Saaban spread his hands. "Then teth'sag cannot be carried out. How do you mean to proceed, if you do not find what you are looking for in the forest?"

"I suppose we begin with anyone who had the most reason to hurt Klia. The way I see it, that brings in the Viresse first of all, since they're the ones with the most to lose. Then there are the Khatme, who hate us because we're Tir, outsiders."

Saaban considered this. "There's sense in what you say, yet you are thinking with the mind of a Tir. This outrage was committed by an Aurenfaie. Their reasons might not be what you suppose."

"You're saying I should think like an Aurenfaie?"

"As you are not one, I doubt that's possible, any more than I could think like a murderer. It's madness to kill another. How can one think like a madman unless you are mad yourself?"

Alec smiled. "Seregil claims that Aurenfaie have no talent for murder. Where I'm from, it comes a bit easier to most—whether they're doing it or just thinking of it."

They reached the clearing at midmorning and found everything as it had been the day before. The ash in the fire circles was damp and undisturbed. Flies buzzed lazily over the piles of offal left where hunters had cleaned their kill.

Alec could still make out Klia's footprints beside the cascading series of pools. "It was here that I found her and Emiel," he told Saaban, showing him the spot.

The Bokthersan draped Klia's tunic over one shoulder and began a tuneless humming.

The pool Alec had found her beside yielded nothing. However, a few yards downstream Saaban halted suddenly and plunged his hand into the water, bringing up a sodden arrowhead pouch. An ivory plaque on one of the drawstrings showed the flame and crescent device of the Skalan royal house.

"It's Klia's, all right," Alec said, examining it. "It must have come loose during the struggle."

Saaban held the pouch in one hand, concentrating. When he spoke again, his voice had a high, singsong timbre. "Yes. Her legs gave way and she fell, choking on water. Her face—her eyelids were heavy, stiff."

"Emiel?" Alec asked hopefully.

Saaban shook his head. "I'm sorry, Alec. It is only Klia I feel on this."

They spent the next hour searching but turned up nothing but a few lost buttons and a Skalan amulet.

Searching the edges of the main clearing, Alec looked up to see Saaban on the far side, rubbing wearily at his forehead. He'd made no complaint, but Alec guessed that even for the 'faie magic took a toll on the user.

He slowly retraced the way Klia and Emiel had taken down to the stream, poking into clumps of dead leaves and bracken along the way. Reaching the spot where he'd overtaken them, he looked around again. The only other marks were those left by the soldiers who'd carried Klia up the slope to her horse, a steeper but more direct route than the path. Following this, he cast back and forth as he worked his way up the hillside. The ground here was covered with dead leaves and fresh new undergrowth; an easy place to lose a small item. Saaban followed, humming softly to himself as he searched in his own fashion.

Reaching the top, Alec turned and started down again, knowing that things always looked different with a change of direction. Halfway down, his patience was rewarded with a glimpse of something in a clump of tiny pink flowers.

Alec went down on one knee, heart suddenly beating faster. It was an Akhendi bracelet, half trampled into the soft ground. Pulling it free, he saw that it was the one he'd watched Amali make for Klia that first night in Sarikali; there was no mistaking the complicated pattern on the band. The ties had broken, but the bird-shaped charm still hung from it, coated in mud. Alec used the hem of his shirt to clean it, then let out a low whistle of triumph.

The pale wood had gone a telltale black.

"Ah, no wonder I missed this," Saaban said, though he looked a bit chagrined. "The magic on it interferes with my own. Are you certain it is Klia's?"

"Yes, I saw it on her yesterday morning." He touched the charm. "And this was still white. I don't suppose you can tell anything from it?"

"No. You'd best take it to an Akhendi."

For the first time that day, Alec smiled. "I know just the Akhendi for the task."

Kheeta's grin mirrored his own. "Let's hope Seregil is as lucky with his search."

34

Investigations

Seregil paced impatiently around his sister's hall, waiting for her to rise and dress. Adzriel appeared at last, looking anything but rested. Declining her offer of breakfast, he quickly outlined his intentions.

"Must it be you?" she asked. "The Iia'sidra must approve such a search, and having you involved will not sit well with most of them."

"I have to get in there. Thero will be in charge, of course, but I have to be there. By the Light, I'd have done it my own way long before now if we were anywhere else but here. If Ulan is our poisoner, he's already had too much time to do away with any evidence."

"I'll do what I can," she said at last. "There must be no soldiers, though."

"Fine. I assume the other khirnari will insist on being there?"

"Brythir i Nien, at least. Any accusations at Sarikali must be made before him. Give me time to call the assembly. An hour at the very least."

Seregil was already halfway to the door. "I'll meet you there. There's someone else I need to speak with first."

I'm getting to be a regular visitor here, he thought as he came in sight of the Nha'mahat. Dismounting at a safe distance, he crossed the

dew-laden grass, keeping an eye out for fingerlings. There were plenty about at this hour, frisking and flapping over the morning offerings in the temple porch.

"I wish to speak with Elesarit," he told the masked attendant who met him at the door.

"I am he, little brother," the old man replied, ushering him inside.

To Seregil's considerable relief, the rhui'auros bypassed the stairs to the cavern, taking him instead up to a small, sparsely furnished room. On the open terrace Seregil saw breakfast laid for two on a little table. Several fingerlings had worried a loaf of dark bread to bits across its polished surface. Laughing, the rhui'auros shooed them away and tossed the crumbs after them.

"Come, you have had nothing to eat in almost a day," he said, uncovering dishes containing Skalan cheeses and hot meats. He filled a plate and set it before Seregil.

"You were expecting me?" Seregil's belly growled appreciatively as he speared a sausage with a knife and wolfed it down. The food suddenly seemed to stick in his throat, however, as he noticed a platter of oat cakes dripping with butter and honey. Nysander had always served them at his extravagant morning meals.

"You miss him a great deal, do you not, little brother?" asked Elesarit, his own food untouched before him. He'd removed his mask, revealing a lined face both kindly and serene.

"Yes, I do," Seregil replied softly.

"Sometimes sorrow is a better guide than joy."

Nodding, Seregil took a bite of oat cake. "Did you send Nyal to me this morning?"

"He came, did he not? "

"Yes. If it hadn't been for him, we might not have figured out what was wrong with Klia, or how to help her."

The rhui'auros's brows arched dramatically. Under different circumstances, the effect would have been comical. "Someone has harmed your princess?"

"You didn't know? Then why did you send Nyal?"

The old man eyed him slyly and said nothing.

Seregil fought back his impatience. Like the Oracles of Illior, the rhui'auros were said to be possessed by the madness that came of being touched by the divine. This fellow was clearly no exception.

"Why did you send him to me?" he tried again.

"I did not send him to you."

"But you just said—" Seregil broke off, too tired to deal with subtle games and riddles. "Why am I here, then?"

"For the sake of your princess?" the man offered, seeming equally mystified.

"Very well, then. Since you were expecting me, you must have had something to say to me."

A dragon the size of a large cat crawled out from under the table and leapt into the rhui'auros's lap. He stroked its smooth back absently for a moment, then looked up at Seregil with vague, unfocused eyes.

Pinned by that strange gaze, Seregil felt an uneasy chill crawl slowly up his back. The dragon was watching him, too, and there was more intelligence in its yellow eyes than in those of the man who held it.

Elesarit suddenly thrust his clenched fist across at Seregil, who recoiled instinctively.

"You'll be needing this, little brother."

Hesitantly, Seregil held out his hand, palm up, to receive whatever the man was offering. Something smooth and cool dropped into his hand. For an instant he thought it was another of the mysterious orbs from his dreams. Instead, he found himself holding a slender vial fashioned of dark, iridescent blue glass and capped with a delicate silver stopper. It was exquisite.

"This is Plenimaran," he said, recognizing the workmanship with a thrill of anticipation, even as another part of his mind piped in, too easy.

"Is it?" Elesarit leaned over for a closer look. "He who has two hearts is twice as strong, ya'shel khi."

Only half listening to the man's nonsensical ramblings, Seregil uncapped the vial and took a cautious sniff, wishing he'd thought to ask Nyal what apaki'nhag venom smelled like. The acrid aroma was disappointingly familiar. Tipping out a drop, he rubbed it between a thumb and finger. "It's just lissik."

"Did you expect something else?"

Seregil replaced the stopper without comment. He was wasting his time here.

"A gift, little brother," Elesarit chided gently. "Take what the Lightbearer sends and be thankful. What we expect is not always what we need."

Seregil resisted the urge to sling the bottle across the room. "Unless that dragon of yours is about to bite me, I'm not certain what to be thankful for, Honored One."

Elesarit regarded him with a mix of pity and affection. "You have a most stubborn mind, dear boy."

Cold sweat broke out across Seregil's shoulders; Nysander had

said these very words to him during his last vision. Seregil glanced at the oat cakes again, then back at the rhui'auros, half hoping to catch another glimpse of his old friend.

Elesarit shook his head sadly. "Seldom have we seen one fight his gifts as you do, Seregil i Korit."

Disappointment shot through with vague guilt settled in Seregil's gut like a bad dinner. He missed Nysander terribly, missed the old wizard's quick mind and clarity. He might have kept secrets, but he never spoke in riddles.

"I'm sorry, Honored One," he managed at last. "If I do have some gift, it's never worked for me."

"Of course it does, little brother. It is from Illior."

"Then tell me what it is!"

"So many questions! Soon you must begin to ask the right ones. Smiles conceal knives."

The right questions? "Who murdered Torsin?"

"You already know." The old man gestured at the door, no longer smiling. "Go now. You have work to do!"

The dragon spread its wings and bared needle-sharp fangs at him, hissing menacingly. The unsettling sound followed Seregil as he beat a hasty retreat into the corridor. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw with alarm that the creature was in fact chasing him. A peal of laughter rang out behind him from the open doorway.

Getting down three flights of stairs with a dragon, even a small one, slithering after you was not a pleasant experience. On the second landing Seregil turned to shoo it away and the creature flew at him, snapping at his outstretched hand.

Admitting defeat, he fled. More laughter, eerily disembodied now, sounded close to his ear.

His fiesty pursuer gave up somewhere between the last stairway and the meditation chamber. He stole frequent glances over his shoulder all the same until he was outside again. Fingerlings frisked around his feet, chirping and fluttering. Picking his way gingerly past them, he hurried to his horse. It wasn't until he reached to undo the hobble that he realized he was still clutching the vial of lissik.

Did I really expect the rhui'auros to hand me the murderer's weapon? he thought derisively, pocketing it.

Cynril's steady pace calmed him. As his mind cleared, he slowly began combing Elesarit's ravings for whatever message lay concealed there. In his heart, Seregil knew better than to dismiss the words of any rhui'auros as nonsense; their madness masked the face of Illior.

"Illior!" he murmured aloud, realizing that Elesarit had used the

Skalan name for the god rather than Aura. It was like finding the free end in a tangled skein—knots began to unravel as he followed it.

He who has two hearts is twice as strong, ya'shel khi.

Ya'shel khi. Half-breed soul. The words filled him with an odd mix of dread and elation.

He returned to the guest house to find the place in an uproar.

"Klia's awake!" Sergeant Mercalle told him as he hurried in. "She can't move or speak, but her eyes are open."

Seregil didn't wait to hear more. Bounding upstairs, he found Mydri, Thero, and Nyal bending anxiously over the bed.

"Thank Aura!" he exclaimed softly, taking her hand in his. It was bandaged, he noticed, and smelled of herbs and honey. She looked up at him, her eyes aware and full of pain.

"Can you hear me, Klia? Blink if you understand."

Klia's discolored eyelids slowly raised and lowered. The left moved more than the right, which sagged alarmingly.

"Does she know all that's happened, what we've learned so far?" he asked Thero. "Can you tell who did this?"

"Her thoughts are still too confused."

"I'm going to find out," Seregil promised, stroking her cheek. "I swear I'll see teth'sag invoked against them in the Iia'sidra."

Klia gave a small, hoarse groan and her eyes closed.

He motioned the others into the corridor and closed the door. "Does this mean she'll live?"

"It's a hopeful sign," Nyal replied, clearly still cautious. "It could be days before she can speak."

"What about her hand?"

"The area around the wound is spreading," Mydri said.

"You think she could lose it?"

"If the flesh rots, as Nyal expects, then yes. But we must give the poultice time to work."

"Do whatever you have to, short of amputation," Seregil pleaded. "Thero, I need you. Can you come with me to Ulan's?"

The wizard looked at Mydri, who nodded. "Yes, Thero, you've done all you can for now. Go do what you must."

Seregil and Thero arrived at the Iia'sidra to find a solemn gathering awaiting them. It was the right of any khirnari not directly involved to witness the questioning of another, and close to a dozen had

opted to claim the right, among them Khatme, Akhendi, Lhapnos, Golinil, and Ra'basi, Bry'kha, and several lesser clans. Escorted by a small honor guard of Silmai, they proceeded on foot to Viresse tupa. From the outset, Seregil was careful to be seen deferring to Thero.

Ulan greeted them with surprising cordiality. "I would offer you a meal, but given the circumstances, the usual gestures seem inappropriate."

Prepared in advance by Adzriel, Thero bowed slightly and gave the expected response. "Your offer of hospitality is understood, Khirnari. Aura grant that you be proven innocent."

"My house is a large one, as you know," Ulan said, leading them to the garden where the banquet had been held. "Do you mean to search the entire place?"

"Seregil will assist me as I scry," Thero replied.

"Scry?" said Elos. "How do you mean to do that?"

"I shall employ this." The wizard produced a square of stained ■ linen. "This is blood from the wound on Klia's hand," he explained, not adding that some of Torsin's was there, as well.

"Blood magic? Necromancy!" Lhaar a Iriel hissed, making a sign in Thero's direction.

The Khatme was not alone in her disapproval, Seregil noted, watching the others uneasily.

"Brythir i Nien, how can you allow such an abomination?" Moriel a Moriel exclaimed.

"The use of blood is only incidental. It's not necromancy of any sort," Thero assured them. "If Klia was stuck with a sharp object, as we suspect, then some of her blood and the poison remains on it, as it does on this cloth. It's nothing but a finding spell, like calling to like."

"The 'faie have similar magicks," Brythir said, leaning on Adzriel's arm. "Unless my fellow khirnari intend to demand a vote, I say you may do so, Thero i Procepios."

"I pray you, grant him leave to proceed," Ulan added. "I have nothing to hide."

"Thank you, Khirnari," said Thero. "First, was an Akhendi charm found anywhere in your tupa after the banquet?"

"No, nothing of that sort."

"Very well." Going to a stone bench that stood nearby, Thero spread the stained cloth out and wove a spell over it with his wand. The others watched with growing interest as the colored patterns twisted in and out of existence at his command.

Seregil quietly turned his attention to the immense garden. The trappings of the banquet had been cleared away, of course. Recalling how the various tables had been set up, he began a methodical search of the area, hoping to find the lost charm, if nothing else.

Unfortunately, Ulan's servants had been thorough in their tidying up, He didn't find so much as an overlooked mussel shell or lost knife.

"I have the sense of something lying in that direction," Thero announced at last, motioning vaguely to the wing of the house where the khirnari's rooms lay.

They moved on, passing along the same corridors Seregil and Alec had walked a few nights earlier. Seregil guided Thero, who walked with eyes half closed, his wand held out before him between his upraised palms.

The wizard's face registered nothing but detached concentration until they reached the garden court where Ulan's private chambers lay. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and he looked around, brow furrowed. "Yes, there's something here, but it's still very faint."

Too easy, Seregil thought again, rifling his way once more through the bedchamber and sitting room. It was a bit distracting, doing this in broad daylight with an audience that included the owner of the room. It felt indecent, really, like having someone watch you take a crap. The day had turned warm, and sweat trickled down his back and sides as he worked.

Again, he found nothing. "Are you certain about this?" he muttered, coming back to Thero, who was standing by the fish pool.

Thero nodded. "It's unclear, I admit, but it's here."

Pondering what corners he might have missed, Seregil stared down at the fragrant white water lilies floating on the pool's dark surface. Fish darted below the round, green leaves like half-glimpsed inspirations. A single dead fish floating in a far corner of the pool was the only jarring element; no doubt the usually fastidious khirnari had more pressing things on his mind since Klia's collapse than the care of his fish pool.

The others were watching his every move with varying degrees of interest or hostility. Doing his best to ignore them, Seregil looked around the courtyard again. If Thero said there was something here, then something was here. It was just a matter of looking in the right place.

Or asking the right questions.

The masses of white peonies and roses caught his eye; he didn't much relish the idea of uprooting them without good cause. Red

damsel flies darted around the blooms. One strayed to land on the lip of a lily pad. A fish flashed up and swallowed it.

"They are always hungry," Ulan murmured, lifting the cover from a bowl set into the rim of the pool. He scattered a handful of crumbs, and the calm water churned as more fish rose to snatch up the morsels.

The dead fish reclaimed Seregil's attention. It was a large one, longer than his hand, and its scales were still bright. That, and the fact that its hungry companions hadn't begun picking at it yet, suggested that it hadn't been dead long.

Curious, he walked around to where it floated and scooped it up for closer inspection. Its dark eyes were still clear. Yes, freshly dead.

"May I borrow a knife?" Seregil asked, careful to keep the rising excitement out of his voice.

This violated the terms of his return, but the Silmai elder himself handed Seregil a dagger.

He slit the belly with a single stroke and was rewarded with a glint of steel among the guts. With the tip of the dagger, he extracted a plain ring. Not so plain after all, though, he thought, discovering a tiny barb protruding from its outer rim.

The others crowded around, muttering excitedly. Seregil looked over their heads at Ulan i Sathil, who stood unmoved near the roses. His face betrayed no guilty blanch, no panicked admission.

I wouldn't like to play cards against you, Seregil thought with a certain grudging respect.

"A clever piece of work, this," he remarked, showing the others how the barb could be extended and retracted by means of a lever set inside the band. "The Plenimarans rather poetically call this a kar'makti. It means 'hummingbird's tongue.' With some, the barb is dipped in poison. Others have a reservoir inside the ring. We'd better handle it carefully until I figure out which sort it is. It could still be dangerous."

"But how could such an odd-looking ornament go unnoticed?" asked Adzriel.

"See these?" Seregil showed her several traces of gold on the ring's edges. "It was fitted inside a larger ring, which would in turn have a hole for the barb to fit out through."

"Can you produce this other ring?" the old Silmai asked Ulan.

"I cannot, because I own no such ring, nor have I ever," the Viresse replied. "Anyone could have dropped this thing here."

"You seem to know quite a lot about such devices, Exile," the Khatme khirnari observed, turning on Seregil.

"In Skala it was my business to know," Seregil replied, letting her make of that what she would. "Have you ever seen this object before, Ulan i Sathil?"

"Certainly not!" Ulan said, bridling at last. "I give my oath before Aura and the khi of my father. Violence may well have been done under my roof; I accept the dishonor of that. But it was not done by me."

Seregil made certain the barb was fully retracted before passing it to Thero. "Can you divine anything from this?"

The wizard pressed the ring between his palms and muttered a quick spell. "It will take a more concentrated effort."

"May I?" asked Adzriel. After a moment, however, she shook her head as well and gave it back to Thero.

"Either it was too long inside the fish or someone has purposefully masked it," he said. "Given the difficulty I had finding it in the first place, I'd guess the latter."

They'd have done better to retract the barb, thought Seregil. "You sense nothing else in the house?"

"No. There's little more to be learned here."

"Except that our poisoner was a man," Seregil said, fitting the ring easily onto his forefinger. "And that he had a knowledge of eastern sea snakes and Plenimaran poisoning tricks."

"All of which points to a Viresse, I suppose?" said Elos i Orian, standing protectively by Ulan.

"Not conclusively," Seregil replied. He turned to go, then paused, as if he'd just remembered something. "There was one other thing I meant to ask about, Khirnari." He took the Viresse tassel from his pouch and held it up for the others to see. "This was found in Lord Torsin's hand after he died. Was someone of your clan in the habit of sending these to him to signal a secret assignation?"

The khirnari's eyes narrowed slightly, and Seregil sensed he'd at last managed to take the man by surprise. "I did so," Ulan admitted. "But not that night. Why would I, when the man was in my own house?"

"Yet who else but a Viresse would have such a token to send?" asked the Silmai. "I fear Viresse must remain under interdiction, Ulan. Until we have cleared this matter up to the satisfaction of the Skalans, you may not vote with the Iia'sidra."

Ulan i Sathil bowed to the elder khirnari. "So it must be. I will do

all in my power to bring justice to the Skalans for the injuries they have suffered beneath my roof."

"What was the reason for your secret meetings with Torsin?" asked Seregil.

"That has nothing to do with this!" Ulan objected.

That definitely struck a nerve.

Thero stepped in smoothly. "For the time being, Khirnari, I speak for Princess Klia and must know of any dealings between the two of you, no matter what they relate to."

Ulan looked to the Silmai khirnari, but found no help there. "Very well, but I must insist we speak privately."

Ulan had clearly intended to exclude Seregil, but Thero motioned for him to follow, as if he could not imagine being denied his adviser.

Smothering a grin of admiration, Seregil squared his shoulders and followed the two men into Ulan i Sathil's inner chamber. Once alone with the khirnari, however, his amusement quickly died.

"May I see the tassel?" Ulan asked. He maintained the semblance of respect, but his eyes were cold as he examined the hank of silk. "This was certainly cut from a Viresse sen'gai, but not one of mine. As khirnari, mine have a thread of darker red woven in among the others. This one does not.

"As for the death of Torsin i Xandus, it is as great a loss to me as it is to you. He has been a great friend of mine for many years. He understood the workings of the Iia'sidra better than any Tirfaie I have known."

"And he was sympathetic to the plight of Viresse," Thero put in.

Seregil watched in amazement. Young as he was, Thero appeared to consider himself a match for this venerable intriguer. There was not the least show of hesitancy as he met the khirnari's appraising stare.

"What were you discussing with him, those times you met?" the wizard asked. "A separate deal of some sort, one that would protect the interests of your clan?"

Ulan gave a condescending nod. "But of course. We were working toward a compromise, one your Princess Klia was quite aware of: open trade through Gedre for the duration of the Skalan's war, but with the understanding that when the need was gone, control of shipping would return to Viresse. Many of my fellow khirnari have grave misgivings about Klia's original proposal, given the character of your new queen."

"And you made certain they knew of her flaws," Seregil said quietly.

Ulan inclined his head as if accepting a compliment. "Gedre is too remote, too unguarded, and too weak a clan to protect itself, should Phoria renege on her agreements. Who is to say that a woman who would betray her own land, her own mother, would not seek to possess the riches Aurenen can offer, once she has seen how to get at them?"

And what was your plan, before Phoria was queen? Seregil wondered with grudging admiration. How many different scenarios had the man prepared for to protect his clan's interests? He'd held his secrets about Phoria in reserve, to be played like a winning hand of cards. What would he have done with them if Idrilain were still hale and hearty on the throne?

"It's Plenimar's capture of the northern trade routes that's put Skala in need," Thero was saying.

"I'm aware of that, as it was Skala's rather possessive control of that same route which cemented the bonds of trade between Plenimar and the eastern clans these past few centuries," Ulan replied. "Win or lose, Plenimar remains the more attractive suitor for Aurenen's affections."

"Despite the fact that they have been courting Zengati support against Aurenen in the event that the Iia'sidra votes in Skala's favor?" asked Seregil.

Ulan gave him a condescending look. "You haven't heard? The Zengati have troubles of their own just now. Tribal war has broken out again, as it does periodically among that excitable race."

"You're certain of this?" Thero gasped.

"My spies there are most reliable. I cannot give them credit by name, of course, but I suspect Seregil would recognize one or two of them."

"Ilar?" Seregil rasped as a bolt of sick apprehension tore through him. "He's alive?"

The khirnari smile was inscrutable. "I have had no communication with that man since his disappearance, but even if it were he, surely you of all people must admit that exiles may have their uses?"

Since his disappearance? Why would the khirnari of Viresse know a young Chyptaulos at all, unless he had good reason to? Meeting Ulan's cool gaze, Seregil knew in his bones what the answer to that question would be. He knew with equal certainty that

Ulan would never reveal that truth unless it were in his own interest to do so.

"The timing of this tribal war was very fortunate," Thero observed. "It would have been disastrous for Aurenen if the Zengati and Plenimar forged a bond."

"Luck can be an expensive thing," Ulan replied with a meaningful look. "Yet who can put a price on the security of one's homeland? But that need not concern you, as it may work to your benefit one day."

"You believe Plenimar will win this time, don't you?" asked Seregil, controlling himself with an effort.

"Yes. Why sacrifice Aurenfaie lives, Aurenfaie magic, to a lost cause?"

"How could Torsin agree to such an arrangement?" Thero demanded angrily.

"He is a Tirfaie, measuring the future in his own short spans. The same can be said of Klia and her line, clever though they undoubtedly are." Ulan waved a dismissive hand at them. "The two of you are still too young to see how slowly the tides of history turn. It is not that I wish to see Skala suffer; I am determined that Viresse shall not. Daughter of Idrilain or not, Phoria will not prove a worthy ally."

"But the Overlord of Plenimar and his necromancers will?" Seregil exclaimed. "The name of Raghar Ashnazai is not unknown to you, Khirnari. I knew the man's kinsman, a necromancer."

"And you overcame him, as well as a dyrmagnos," Ulan returned indifferently. "If you were able to accomplish that with a handful of Tir, what should the Aurenfaie fear from them?"

"It was only one dyrmagnos, and a handful of necromancers, but it took the life of the great Nysander i Azusthra to defeat them," Thero said softly, and something in his voice made Seregil glance nervously at his friend. For an instant Seregil thought he saw the wizard's eyes flash gold. Probably a trick of the light. "Beware what you trade away for prosperity, Ulan i Sathil," Thero went on. "There are those with vision even longer than yours."

Ulan went to the door and opened it. "Torsin was my friend and I grieve his loss. There is nothing more to be said. As for what happened to Klia beneath my roof, it is a most grievous offense, but one she perhaps brought upon herself. She's sown discord in a city that has known only peace for time out of mind. Perhaps this is Aura's punishment."

Thero blanched at this but held his tongue.

Seregil felt less restraint. "The Lightbearer had nothing to do with this," he growled. "Mark my words, Khirnari, the truth of this will come out. I'll see to it."

"You?" Ulan made no effort to hide his contempt. "What do you know of truth?"

35

Accusations

Alec saw Seregil waiting for him on the front steps when he and his search party returned. , "Any luck?" he called.

Alec swung down from the saddle and presented him with the Akhendi charm. "It's Klia's, all right. It must have come loose in the struggle."

"Illior's Fingers!" Seregil exclaimed, examining the blackened carving.

"Kheeta's gone to fetch Rhaish," Alec told him. "Saaban claims he should be able to use it to tell us who caused this. It was still white before the hunt. Care to lay any bets on who changed that?"

Seregil took the poisoner's ring from a pouch. "Not just yet, I think."

"Where did you find that?"

"In the fish pond outside Ulan's bedchamber. So far, Thero hasn't been able to divine anything from it, though. He says it's masked."

Alec cocked an eyebrow. "How hard is that to do?"

"Hard enough to make me think that we're dealing with someone powerful."

"Damn! Then this charm may be, too."

"It may be useful to learn that it is," said Seregil, examining the bracelet again. "That would suggest that whoever masked one

masked the other, as well. Chances are they'd have to be there to do so after Emiel had attacked her."

"So we find out who in the hunting party was also at the Viresse banquet?"

Seregil shrugged. "If this turns out to be masked, then yes."

Kheeta arrived with the Akhendi khirnari, and Seregil ushered him into the sitting room off the main hall, where Alec and Thero were waiting.

"You found something in the forest?" Rhaish asked.

"This," said Alec, giving him the blackened charm. "Can you tell us who did this?"

The khirnari held it a moment. "Ah, yes, this is my wife's work. It would be best if I took it to her. I'll send you word of what she finds. She is not well enough today to go out."

"If you don't mind, Khirnari, we'll save you the trouble and come along now," Seregil interrupted.

"Very well," Rhaish replied, clearly taken aback by such presumption. One did not demand access to the home of a khirnari.

"Forgive my rudeness," Seregil quickly added, hoping to smooth it over. "But time is of the essence, for Klia's sake."

"Of course. I was not thinking. Akhendi will do all in its power to ensure her recovery."

"Thank you, Khirnari." Motioning for Alec to accompany them, Seregil led the man out.

Akhendi tupa was modest in comparison to the Viresse, and the faded appointments spoke of better days.

They found Amali resting on a silken couch in one of the garden courts, picking listlessly at a dish of dried kindle berries while she watched several of her women play at dice.

She brightened a bit at the sight of her husband. "Back so soon, tali? And with company for me!"

"Forgive an unforgivable intrusion," Seregil said gallantly. "I would not disturb you if it were not of the utmost urgency."

"Think nothing of it," she replied, sitting up. "What brings you here?"

Seregil showed her the bracelet. "My lady, your gift to Klia was well thought of. I believe it can lead us to her attacker."

"How wonderful!" she exclaimed, taking the soiled bracelet gingerly between two fingers. "But what's happened to it?"

"Klia lost it during the hunt," Alec explained. "I found it when I went back this morning."

"I see." Pressing the charm between her palms, she murmured a spell over it. A moment later she let out a gasp and slumped back against the cushions, face drained of color. "A Haman!" she said faintly. "I see his face, contorted with anger. I know this man: He is here in the city. The nephew of Nazien i Hari."

"Emiel i Moranthi?" asked Alec, shooting Seregil a victorious look.

"Yes, that is his name," Amali whispered. "Such anger and contempt. Such violence!"

"Can you tell us anything more, my lady?" Seregil asked, leaning forward.

"Enough!" Lips tight with anger, Rhaish tore the bracelet from her grasp as if it were a poisonous snake. "Talia, you are not well enough for this." Turning to Seregil, he said sternly, "You see her condition. What more do you need? "

"If she could tell us more of the nature of this attack, Khirnari, it would be of great value."

"Leave this with us for now, then. When she has recovered her strength, perhaps she can see more in it."

"I'd prefer to keep this with me," Seregil told him. "When your lady is well I'll bring it back."

"Very well." Rhaish looked thoughtfully at the bracelet, then handed it back. "How odd, for so much to depend on such a simple object."

"In my experience, it is often the simplest things that yield the greatest insights," Seregil replied.

"Well?" Alec demanded as they walked home with Thero. "I told you he attacked her. There's your proof!"

"I suppose so," Seregil mused absently.

"You suppose so? By the Four, Seregil, she was working with her own magic."

Seregil lowered his voice to a whisper. "But why, Alec? Klia and Torsin were poisoned at Viresse tupa, of that I'm certain. If it was done by the Haman, then it was someone other than Emiel, because he wasn't there."

"If the Haman are behind it, then it was planned by a fool," added Thero. "Everyone knew they were hunting the next morning.

Why choose a poison that would affect her while she was in their company?"

"And why go to the trouble of attacking her if she was already dying? " Seregil pointed out.

"Unless Emiel didn't know about the poison," Alec said. "He's a violent bastard, Seregil. He went after me once, right in the city in front of witnesses, not to mention what he did to you!"

"That was different. Attacking Klia was madness. Based on what Amali just told us, he could face dwai sholo." He handed the poisoner's ring to Thero. "Keep at this. I'll bet you my best horse if you do find out who used it, it won't be a Haman."

"You think these could be separate events, then?" the wizard asked, staring down at the deadly little circle of steel.

"You mean more than one clan wanted Klia dead?" Alec felt the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes. "Perhaps Sarikali is more like Rhiminee after all."

It was a depressing thought.

Rhaish i Arlisandin dismissed the women as soon as their Skalan visitors were gone, then knelt beside Amali. Her air of quiet triumph sent a chill through him; for a moment he could scarcely feel the ground beneath his knees.

"By the Light," he gasped, clutching at her wrist. "Amali, what have you done?"

She raised her chin proudly, though he saw tears standing in her eyes. "What had to be done, my husband. For Akhendi, and for you. The Haman is no man of honor; the violence is his."

She reached out to him, but Rhaish shied away. The terrible mix of sorrow and adoration in his wife's face scorched him like wildfire, even as the world grew darker around him. Staggering to a nearby chair, he covered his eyes with his hands.

"You would not confide in me, my husband!" she said imploringly. "Yet I could see your anguish. When Aura placed the means in my hands, I knew what I must do."

"The Lightbearer had no hand in this," he mumbled.

Alec and Seregil went straight to Klia's chamber. Though she had not yet regained full consciousness, it seemed right to be in her presence as much as possible, as if they could lend her their life force through sheer proximity.

It was also the most securely guarded room in the house. Two Urgazhi were stationed outside her door. Inside, Beka sat dozing at the bedside. She jerked awake as they entered, one hand flying to the hilt of her knife.

"It's just us," Seregil whispered, approaching the bed.

Klia was asleep, but there was a hint of color in her pallid cheeks. A sheen of sweat stood out on her brow and upper lip.

"She still can't speak, but Mydri got a little broth into her," Beka told them. "She's been like this most of the day, though she opens her eyes now and then. It's hard to know if she understands what's said to her yet."

Alec caught his breath as a sickly odor assaulted his nostrils. Klia's left hand was bandaged from fingertips to wrist, and angry red lines of infection arced up the inside of her forearm. Those hadn't been there at dawn.

"Amali says Emiel definitely attacked her," Seregil told Beka.

She closed her eyes wearily. "I knew it. Did she say why?"

"No. I think I'd better have a talk with Nazien, though I'm not looking forward to it."

"What about the Viresse?" she asked.

Seregil scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. "Finding the ring in Ulan's fishpond should be pretty damning evidence."

"Should?"

"Well, dropping the ring right outside his own bedchamber door is either the most daring or the most stupid thing I've seen in a while. I haven't decided which yet."

"If the Haman are our poisoners, they could have dropped it there to make Ulan look guilty," said Alec.

"That begs the question of whether they support the repeal of the Edict. Nazien might want to see Ulan dishonored, if he was serious about supporting Klia after all. Otherwise, he would have supported him. As for Emiel, he was on the side of the Viresse, so it's unlikely he'd have been behind such a ruse."

"We might have just missed seeing the murderer," Alec said glumly, thinking of the unseen visitor who'd interrupted their tossing of Ulan's chambers.

Thero slipped in just then, and the others greeted him with hopeful looks.

"Nothing yet," the wizard told them, leaning over Klia's bed to pass Seregil the ring. "If only I could question her about that night."

"Our assassin chose his moment well, whoever he was," Alec

muttered. "If we do clear Haman or Viresse, that still leaves most of Sarikali suspect."

"Even if I were free to go about reading minds, it would take months," added the wizard.

Beka took the poisoner's ring. "A lot of good this does us, if you can't divine any more than you have of it."

"I told you, I wasn't meant to. Someone has masked it so that I can't trace it to its owner," Thero snapped. "This is a real wizard we're dealing with, not some hedgerow conjurer."

"Then for all we know, the man we're looking for has escaped already," she fretted, handing it back to him. "People come and go all the time here. Our man could be miles away already. By the Flame, Seregil, can't these rhui'auros of yours do something?"

He sighed, resting his face in his hands. "According to the one I spoke with this morning, I already know who did it, whatever that means."

Beka paused beside Seregil and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Tell us what he said, word for word."

Seregil glanced down at Klia and found her eyes open and focused on him. He lifted her good hand and held it gently. "Let's see. He fed me breakfast and we spoke of Nysander. He admitted that he sent Nyal but claimed that he didn't send him to me." He looked at Thero and shook his head. "You know how they can be. Anyway, then he gave me the Plenimaran bottle of lissik. When I recognized the workmanship, he told me 'He who has two hearts is twice as strong,' and called me 'ya'shel khi.' "

"Half-breed soul," Alec translated for Beka's benefit.

Seregil nodded. "I've been turning that around in my mind all day, along with his talk of my so-called gift. Whatever that is."

"And he said you fight it," Alec prompted.

Seregil shrugged again. "A gift for magical ineptitude? A gift for picking pockets and lying well? The only thing he said that makes any sense to me yet is that somehow or other we've missed asking the right questions."

"Or the right people," Beka said. "What did Adzriel say about the vote? Will it go forward as things are now?"

"Nothing's been changed, so far as she knows."

"Both Viresse and Haman are still under interdiction," said Alec. "Doesn't that give us an advantage? I mean, we know that Viresse would have voted against us, and Haman might have."

"Haman would have been the keystone," Seregil said. "With just

Viresse out of the picture, Nazien's vote would have broken any tie vote, for good or ill. Things are as uncertain as ever now. Of the nine left, we know Golinil, Khatme, and Lhapnos are against us. Ra'basi and the rest? Who can say, now that everyone's so leery of Phoria? Ulan may win without having to vote at all. Beka, I'd like you to fetch Nazien i Hari. Don't say why, just that I have information regarding his nephew."

"Maybe it's time I went back to the taverns," Alec offered. "Short of going into housebreaking as a full-time occupation, I don't see how else we can find much more than we already have. Whoever left that ring meant for us to end up right where we are now, mired solid."

"You might as well—"

He was interrupted by Mydri's arrival with fresh infusions for Klia.

"But not alone," he continued. "Take Kheeta with you, and a rider or two. No one goes out alone, not anymore."

"Then you think our murderer is still here?" asked Beka.

"We have to be prepared for the possibility, and that he's not done with us yet," Seregil replied.

"Do take care," Mydri warned, picking up the thread of the conversation. "Adzriel has had people out listening around the city; word of what you found has already spread, and tempers are ugly. Akhendi is the worst, accusing Viresse outright of murder. There's talk of banning Golinil, and even the Khatme seem to be under suspicion. It's rumored that Lhaar a Iriel and Ulan i Sathil were meeting secretly to plot against Klia."

"Any news from the Nha'mahat?" Seregil asked.

Mydri gave him a surprised look. "You know they don't mix in Iia'sidra business."

"Of course." Seregil bent to pat Klia's hand one last time, then motioned for Alec to come with him.

On the way out they nearly collided with Sergeant Mercalle in the corridor.

"Begging your pardon, my lords," she said, giving them a quick salute. "I need to speak with Captain Beka regarding orders."

"What is it, Sergeant?" Beka asked, stepping out to join them.

"It's about the prisoner, Captain. His people are at the front door, asking what we mean to do with him."

"Well, well, Nazien has saved us the trouble," Seregil murmured. "Tell him we'll speak with him at once, Sergeant. Put them in the sitting room off the main hall."

Mercalle nodded to one of the Urgazhi on guard at the door, and the man hurried off. "There is one other thing, as well," she added. "The house servants wish to know what's to be done with Lord Torsin."

Beka grimaced. "Sakor's Flame, it's been a couple of days, hasn't it? He'll have to be burnt, and his remains sent home to Skala."

"It will have to be done outside the city," Seregil told her. "Nyal can probably find the materials we'll need. Have it done tonight; the priests can deal with the proper rites back in Rhiminee. You'd better bring Emiel into the hall now. I want him there when I give his uncle the bad news."

"I can't wait to see their faces," Beka said, striding off toward the back stair with Mercalle.

Thero waited until the two women were gone, then lowered his voice. "I've been thinking about what you said of the rhui'auros. Whatever your sister may think, I believe they see more than mere politics in all this. I'm convinced they want this alliance."

"I know," Seregil replied. "What puzzles me is why they don't seem to be making that clear to their own people."

"Maybe the Aurenfaie aren't listening," Alec suggested.

Nyal was loitering in the stable yard when Beka came out with Mercalle. Her heart gave an unruly leap at the sight of him. He'd been out riding, judging by the dust on his boots and cloak. Coming closer, she smelled beer and green herbs on his breath, the scent of a fresh breeze in his hair. She'd have given a month's pay for five minutes alone in his arms.

"We need materials for a funeral pyre, a fast, hot one," she told him, keeping her tone neutral.

His hazel eyes widened in alarm. "Aura's Light, not Klia—"

"For Lord Torsin," she told him.

"Ah, of course. The proper materials are kept in the city for such contingencies," he replied. "I'm sure they'll be made available to you, but it might be best if someone of Bokthersa clan made the request on Skala's behalf. Shall I find Kheeta i Branin?"

"Thank you," Beka said gratefully. "I want his ashes ready for tomorrow's dispatch rider, if possible."

"I'll see to everything," he said, already on his way.

"He's been a good friend to us, Captain," Mercalle said with evident affection.

By the Four, how I want to believe that! Beka thought, watching

her lover out of sight. "Get an honor guard together for me, Sergeant. Have them in the main hall in five minutes. Lord Seregil is meeting with the Haman and we want to make the proper impression."

Mercalle winked knowingly. "I'll make sure they're all tall and mean, Captain."

"Mean shouldn't be too difficult to come by, considering who our guests are," Beka replied, clapping her on the shoulder.

She'd been too distracted by Klia's condition and her own guilt to pay very much attention to the unwelcome "guest" in the barracks. As she headed in to fetch Emiel, she reflected that it couldn't have been a comfortable few days for him, with Klia's own guard looking daggers at him every waking hour. There wasn't one of them who wouldn't cheerfully cut the Haman's throat.

Half a dozen riders were taking their ease inside. Two more kept watch at the back of the room, where Emiel sat on his pallet, the remains of a recent meal on a plate beside him. He looked up at her approach, and she was pleased to see a flicker of apprehension cross his face.

"On your feet. You're wanted in the house," she ordered.

Outside, Emiel blinked as his eyes adjusted to the slanting afternoon sun. He betrayed no fear, but she did catch him stealing a quick glance at the stable yard gate, which stood tantalizingly open.

Go on, try to run for it, Beka thought, loosening her grip a little, wondering if he knew how much she'd welcome the opportunity to take him down.

The man knew better, of course, and kept up a disdainful front until he entered the hall and saw his uncle and a half dozen kinsmen standing tensely before Thero's makeshift tribunal. Alec and Saaban flanked the wizard, with Mercalle's guard in a line behind them. Seregil entered a moment later, escorting Rhaish i Arlisandin.

"Is there anyone else you wish to have present?" Thero asked Nazien.

"No one," the old Haman answered. "You claim to have proof of my kinsman's guilt. Show it to me and let's be done with the matter."

The Akhendi stepped forward, and Seregil handed him Klia's warding charm.

"You know of my people's skills with such magic," said Rhaish. "Your kinsman's guilt is written here, in this little carving. You recognize what it is, I think."

Nazien took the charm and clasped it, closing his eyes. After a

moment his shoulders sagged. When he looked at Emiel, there was disgust in his eyes. "I brought you to Sarikali to learn wisdom, nephew. Instead, you have brought disgrace on our name."

Beka felt the young Haman go rigid. "No," he rasped out. "No, my uncle—"

"Silence!" Nazien ordered, turning his back on Emiel and facing Thero. "I vow atonement to avert teth'sag between our people. If evidence of my kinsman's innocence cannot be found within the next moon cycle, he will be put to death for the attempted assassination of the queen's sister."

Nazien regarded Emiel stonily for a long moment. "Did you know," he said at last, "that during the hunt I pledged my support to Klia and her cause?"

"No, Khirnari, we did not," Thero replied. "The princess has been unable to speak since her collapse."

"Who heard you give this pledge, I wonder?" Rhaish i Arlisandin asked harshly.

The Haman eyed him levelly. "We spoke in private, but I'm certain Klia will verify my words when she recovers. Good day. May Aura's light illuminate the truth for all."

None of the Haman spared Emiel a glance as they filed out. He watched his kinsmen leave, then turned on Rhaish i Arlisandin.

"I might have known the Akhendi would use their paltry trinkets to sell their honor!" he snarled, twisting out of Beka's grasp and lunging at the khirnari, hands outstretched to throttle the man.

Beka grappled him to the ground but needed the help of three strong riders to hold the man down as he thrashed and cursed. Beka got an elbow in the eye for her trouble but held on blindly until the Haman suddenly jerked and went limp.

Peering up blearily, Beka found Alec standing over him, rubbing his fist.

"Thanks," she grunted, getting up. "Tie this madman up, Sergeant, and clear out one of the storerooms for a cell. If we've got to hang on to him, I want him behind a locked door!"

Mercalle motioned to her men, who dragged the unconscious Haman none too gently out the door.

Beka bowed to the Akhendi. "My apologies."

"Not at all," the older man replied, apparently shaken by what he'd just witnessed. "If you will excuse me, I must return to my wife. She's still not well."

"Thank you, Khirnari," Thero said, holding up the bracelet.

"Your help has been invaluable. I hope to learn more from this, as well."

"I'm unfamiliar with your methods, Thero i Procepios, but I caution you not to undo any of the knots. Once the magic of the object is so broken, no one will be able to tell anything from it."

"That shouldn't be necessary," Seregil replied, taking it and tucking it away for' safekeeping. "Captain, see that the khirnari gets home safely."

It was just as well that Beka went with the Akhendi. There was something different in the air today and tension hung over the formerly placid streets. It was nothing overt, just a sense she picked up as they passed too quiet taverns and small knots of people.

Nyal was waiting for her on the front steps when she returned. "You are exhausted, talia," he said, taking her hand and pulling her down beside him.

"I don't have time to be tired yet," she returned sourly, though she knew he was right. She ached with weariness, and the world was taking on a surreal glow.

"I hear Emiel did not exactly confess?"

For an instant, Beka saw the Ra'basi through Seregil's eyes—an outsider who asked too many questions. "That's not for me to discuss," she said curtly, and quickly changed the subject. "Our troubles have upset the general population, I think."

Nyal gave her a slanting smile. "Perhaps the Khatme have been right all these years. Let the Skalans into Sarikali and suddenly we have fistfights in the streets."

"Well, we'll be gone soon enough."

"Leaving havoc in your wake. This simple request of yours has brought a good many simmering clan disputes to a boil. Now, with the deaths, everyone suddenly has new reasons for distrusting their enemies."

"Have the clans ever gone to war among themselves?" Beka asked. Such a thing hardly seemed possible, even with all she'd seen lately.

Nyal shrugged. "They have, though not for a long time. It's not murder, to kill in war, but lives are cut short nonetheless. For a 'faie to shed 'faie blood—ah, Aura forbid! It's the worst thing imaginable."

Perhaps if she hadn't been so tired his words would not have rankled so. As it was, they burned like salt in a fresh wound.

"What do you know of war?" Beka snapped. "Your people sit

here, clucking their tongues at us, but when we try to get help saving a few hundred of our short lives, you sit on your hands, debating whether we'll pollute your blessed shores! Never mind that you've murdered one of our people and maimed Klia so that she may—"

She broke off abruptly, seeing the sentries nearby shifting in embarrassment. She was practically shouting.

It wasn't Nyal's fault, not any of it, but right now he seemed to stand for every slow-talking, law-spouting, way-blocking Aurenfaie in the land.

"I'm tired, and there's so much left to do," she said, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Rest awhile," Nyal said softly. "Sleep if you can."

She sighed. "No, we've got a pyre to build."

36

Testing the Wind

The confrontation with the Haman left Seregil oddly pensive. "Do you think Nazien was telling the truth when he said he'd support Skala?" Alec asked when the others had left the hall. "It's plausible. We'll go have a listen around town, see how the wind blows once word of all this gets around." "If we split up—"

"No," Seregil shook his head, frowning. "I still don't want any Skalan out alone anywhere."

Alec grinned. "Suddenly cautious, are we?" Seregil chuckled. "Let's just say even I can learn from my own poor example."

That evening, they wandered the city's taverns and squares, picking up threads of outraged opinion.

They went openly among the friendlier clans and heard Viresse alternately denounced and defended. Less was said against the Haman; word of Alec's discovery had not yet spread.

Later, they ventured into enemy territory, going so far as to scale the wall of Nazien i Hari's garden to see how the Haman were conducting themselves in the wake of the accusations. The house lay in darkness, with no smell of an evening meal.

"A sign of humility and atonement," Seregil whispered to Alec as they crept away. "Nazien's taking his nephew's actions hard."

By contrast, Viresse tupa was ablaze with light well past midnight. Keeping to the shadows, they spotted the sen'gai of half a dozen clans among the people out on the streets. The house of Ulan i Sathil was too risky to burgle, but lurking nearby, they saw the khirnari of Khatme enter, accompanied by Moriel a Moriel of Ra'basi.

Despite this apparent show of support, bands of Viresse watchmen patrolled the boundaries of the tupa, where angry supporters of Klia roamed looking for a fight. Many wore the green-and-brown sen'gai of Akhendi.

"Do you suppose that's a spontaneous show of support, or is our friend Rhaish i Arlisandin making certain his greatest rival is made uncomfortable?" asked Seregil.

"Perhaps we should pay Akhendi tupa one last visit."

The whole of the Akhendi delegation seemed to have taken to the streets for the night, and Seregil and Alec were hailed as friends, commiserated with, and plied with liquor and questions.

News of the poisoner's ring had sealed Ulan's fate in the minds of most, and some were convinced that the Haman were in collusion with him. All agreed that it was a great coup for Akhendi, having their most hated opponent besmirched with even the hint of scandal.

"We knew they'd do anything to protect themselves, but assassination!" a taverner exclaimed, treating them to mugs of her best. "Maybe the Khatme are right about too much contact with outsiders. No offense to present company of course. I'm talking of the Plenimarans."

"You won't hear us defending them," Seregil assured her.

Stopping in at another tavern, they met Rhaish i Arlisandin, accompanied by several younger kinsmen. The khirnari seemed surprised to see them.

"With all the unrest in the city tonight, we thought we'd stop by and see that you and your people are safe," Seregil explained, joining him at a long table and accepting a mug of ale.

"I thank you for that," Rhaish replied. "These are uncertain times indeed when the insidious weapons of Plenimar are found in Sarikali."

"It chills my heart," Seregil agreed. "I thought you'd be at Torsin's funeral."

Rhaish shook his head sadly. "As you say, the mood of the city is so uncertain tonight, I thought it would be better if I remained with my own people."

As if to underscore this, the sound of angry shouting broke out suddenly in the direction of Khatme tupa.

"Aura protect us!" Rhaish groaned, sending men to investigate. "See that none of our people are doing violence!"

"Perhaps you're wise to remain close to home," Seregil observed. "Those who struck at us may strike at our closest allies, too."

"Just as you say," Rhaish acknowledged wearily. "But surely the guilt of the Viresse is clear? Why hasn't Klia declared teth'sag against them?"

"Skalans." Seregil shrugged and spread his hands, as if that explained everything.

"I must attend my people," Rhaish said, rising to go. "I trust you'll keep me informed of any new discoveries?"

"Of course. Aura's Light shine on you."

"And you." The khirnari's escort closed ranks behind him as he continued on his way.

Alec watched the stooped figure fade into the night. "Poor fellow. Except for Gedre and us, no one else stands to lose as much when everything goes to pieces. And it's going to, isn't it?"

Seregil said nothing for a moment, listening as the distant shouting took on a more dire tone. "I didn't come home for this, Alec. Not to watch the two lands I've called home bring each other down. We've got to uncover the truth of all this, and soon."

A moment later a tiny point of bluish light flickered into being just in front of them, one of Thero's message spheres. The wizard's voice issued softly from it, drained of emotion: "Come back at once."

37

Worse News

The arrangements for Torsin's funeral came

together quickly, thanks to Nyal. He'd

even turned up a bundle of spices some-

where, and with these Kheeta's mother

had skillfully overseen the preparation of the

corpse. By the time she and her helpers had

sewn it into layers of canvas and patterned

silk, the odor was almost tolerable.

Unwilling to spare too many soldiers from guarding the house, Beka took only Nyal, Kheeta, and her three corporals as torchbearers. A cart draped with cloaks and prayer scrolls served as catafalque, bearing Torsin out to a site on the plain outside the city. Adzriel and Saaban accompanied them, each with a painted prayer kite honoring the dead man. It was fully dark now, but the soft gleam of massed wizard lights was guide enough.

"Well, look at that, would you?" Nikides exclaimed softly.

In spite of the general unrest, at least a hundred Aurenfaie had gathered on the moon-washed plain. The pyre, a rectangular stack of cedar and oak logs fifteen feet high, was surmounted by a pair of carved dragon heads. Dozens of prayer scrolls fluttered against its sides.

"You'd think he was one of their own," said Corporal Zir.

"He was a good man," Nyal said.

Beka hadn't known Torsin well, but sensed a rightness in this final moment; the man had spent his life, and perhaps given it, trying to bring the two races together.

Kallas and Nikides slid the body into a shelflike opening near the top of the pyre. Adzriel made a few prayers in the dead man's behalf, then stepped back. Beka and her riders were about to light the tinder when another rider galloped out to join them. It was Sergeant Rhylin, and even in the warm glow of the torches, the tall sergeant's face looked grey.

"Thero sent this—to be put on the pyre," he whispered hoarsely, thrusting a small, canvas-wrapped parcel into Beka's hands.

"What is it?" she asked, already dreading the answer. The stiff cloth was tied up with a knotted thong and weighed almost nothing.

"Klia—" he began, as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Sakor's Flame!" Beka's fingers felt numb and clumsy as she yanked the thong free and unrolled the cloth. The smell gagged her, but she went on, unable to stop.

Two black, swollen, fingers—first and middle—were packed in fresh cedar tips and rose petals. They were still joined by a sizable wedge of discolored flesh; the white tips of two neatly severed bones poked out from the raw lower edge. "Mydri saved the hand, then?" she asked, spilling petals as she hurriedly tied the bundle up again.

Rhylin wiped at his eyes. "She isn't sure yet. The rot was spreading too fast. Thero worked a spell over Klia. We didn't even have to hold her down."

Beka's mind skittered away from the images that summoned, wondering instead if her commander would ever hold a bow again. "Thank the Maker it wasn't her sword hand," she mumbled. Climbing up the side of the pyre, she reached in and laid the little bundle on Torsin's breast, above his heart.

On the ground again, she knelt and thrust a torch into the thick bed of tinder and kindling packed under the logs. The Urgazhi sang a soldiers' dirge as flames fueled by beeswax and fragrant resins leaped up to engulf it.

The song ended, leaving only the crackle of the flames in its wake. As the thick white smoke went dark, a sorrowful keening started somewhere among the 'faie. It spread through the crowd and swelled to an uncanny, full-throated wail that rose and fell wordlessly and without cease. Her riders tensed, shooting Beka worried looks.

She shrugged and turned back to watch the roaring blaze.

The keening went on for hours, until the blaze had reduced itself to smoldering embers. Sometime during the night, hardly realizing what they did, the Skalans joined in.

Beka and the others returned to the guest house through a hazy red dawn, hoarse, light-headed, and covered in soot. The quiver holding Torsin's ashes hung warm against her thigh as she rode. In the end, they'd had to break the longer bones to fit them in.

Mercalle was standing by the stable with the day's courier, Urien, and his guide. The Akhendi had a nasty-looking bruise over his right cheekbone.

"What happened to you, my friend?" Nyal asked, squinting at him with smoke-reddened eyes.

The man gave him a cool stare and shrugged. "A slight disagreement with some of your kinsmen."

"Some of the Ra'basi support Viresse," Mercalle told Beka, not looking at the interpreter.

"I'm sure we'll get it all sorted out by the time the vote comes around," Beka replied.

"Captain!" a rider called out from the kitchen doorway. "Captain Beka, are you there?"

Beka turned and saw Kipa looking anxiously around the yard.

"Oh, there you are, Captain," she called, spotting Beka. "I've been watching for you. Lord Thero said I was to bring you as soon as you came in."

"Is it Klia? Has she—?" Beka asked, following the younger woman inside.

"I don't know, Captain, but it sure feels like bad news."

Beka could hardly breathe as she ran up to Klia's room. Mydri met her in the doorway, balancing a basin full of bloody water and rags against one hip.

"She took a bad turn last night," she told Beka. "She's sleeping again. For now."

The bedchamber's window was shuttered, the room lit only by the glow of a sizable bed of coals on the hearth. The stench of blood and seared flesh still hung heavily on the air. Thankfully, all other evidence of the amputation had been cleared away.

Klia lay pale and still, thick new bandages swathed around her hand. Seregil and Alec slept awkwardly in chairs beside the bed. Judging by their plain, rumpled clothing, they'd been about their own business most of the night.

Beka took a step toward the bed, then tensed as movement in a far corner caught her eye. Her hand flew to her knife.

"It's me," Thero whispered, coming far enough into the light for her to make out his swollen, red-rimmed eyes.

"I suppose it's best that it's over with," Beka said, pushing away the image of those severed fingers.

"I only hope she survives the shock of it," said Thero. "She's shown no signs of waking and it worries me, and Mydri, as well."

Seregil opened his eyes, then nudged Alec's knee. The younger man jerked awake and looked around blearily.

"Any trouble at the funeral?" he asked, voice raw with exhaustion.

"No. The 'faie who showed up gave him a good send-off. Were you here?" She gestured at Klia's bandaged hand.

"No. We just got back a little while ago," said Alec.

Seregil hooked a chair her way, then passed her a half-full flask of wine. "Here, you'll need this."

Beka drank deeply, then looked around at the others. "So, now what's happened?" Her heart sank when Thero sealed the room, then pulled a letter folded in Magyana's characteristic fashion from the air.

"Something none of us thought possible," he told her. "This is hard to make out. I'll read it for you. It begins, 'My friends, I write you as I flee Mycena and the queen's displeasure. Phoria has ordered an attack against Gedre to secure the port.' "

Beka let out a gasp of disbelief. "An attack!"

Seregil motioned her to silence.

" 'There is a spy in your midst,' " Thero continued. " 'Someone has been sending reports of the Iia'sidra's reluctance to act. I have seen these with my own eyes. In this way the queen also learned that it was I who sent you word of the old queen's death. I am banished.

" 'Make no mistake; Phoria was preparing for such a strike in any case. Recent attacks on Skala's western shores have given her the excuse she needed to secure the support for this madness. Her recent victories in Mycena have cemented the loyalty of most. Generals who a month ago would have questioned such an action now

support her. Those who don't keep silent in the wake of the execution of General Hylus.' "

"Hylus?" said Beka. "Why in the world would she execute him? He was a brilliant tactician, and a loyal soldier."

"Loyal to Idrilain," Seregil observed with a cynical frown. "Go on, Thero."

" 'Prince Korathan left Rhiminee harbor with three fast warships yesterday at dawn. I believe he means to approach under the flag of a messenger ship and take the port by surprise. The surprise is more likely to be his. He might be reasoned with, if only you can find some way to prevent his arrival! Even if he is able to secure Gedre, whatever brief advantage this might afford will never offset the loss of Aurenen as an ally. If the 'faie turn against us now, what hope have we for Skala and the Oreska?' That's all she says." Thero folded the letter, and it vanished between his fingers.

Beka rested her head in her hands, feeling ill. "Bilairy's Balls. Does the Iia'sidra know?"

"Not yet, as far as we can tell," Alec replied. "Everyone is still busy accusing everyone else of poisoning Klia."

"It's only a matter of time before news leaks out," Seregil cautioned. "This will undo everything. Not only is it an act of war, but it proves every suspicion Ulan has raised about Phoria's motives."

"How could Phoria do this?" asked Alec. "Doesn't she understand what this means? Klia could be killed, or held hostage."

"Phoria's a general," Beka told him. "In war generals spend the lives of a few to gain advantage for the rest. She's decided we're expendable; Still—her own sister!"

Seregil let out a bitter laugh. "Klia's always been the people's darling, and the cavalry's. Now, with Korathan being promoted and their other brothers dead, she's next in line as High Commander of the Queen's Cavalry. It's her right by birth, unless Aralain is forced into it. I don't think Phoria wants her youngest sister quite so powerful."

"Phoria is using what's happened here to double advantage," said Thero. "Klia is gotten out of the way, and Phoria gains justification for taking what she wants from Aurenen."

Shock was already giving way to anger. Beka rose, pulse racing the way it did before a raid. "We have to get Klia away to safety before the 'faie find out."

Thero shook his head. "She's far too ill to move."

"What about by magic?"

"Especially not by magic," Thero replied. "Even if we could find someone to do a translocation, the flux would kill her."

"She's safe here," said Seregil.

"How can you say that? Beka snapped, rounding on him. "Take a good look at her! This is what all their talk of guest laws and sacred ground amounts to. Now they're fighting each other in the streets!"

"I wouldn't have thought it possible, not in Sarikali," Seregil admitted. "But now we know the danger, and we're guarded by your riders and by the Bokthersans."

"I've put protections in place around the grounds," Thero added. "No one will get in or visit any magicks on us without my knowing about it."

"That still leaves us trapped here when word of Korathan's mission gets out," Beka growled.

"I know," said Seregil. "That's why we've got to do as Magyana's asked—try to head him off before anyone's the wiser."

"How do you suggest we manage that? I doubt sending him a polite note is going to do it, even if it got to him in time."

Seregil exchanged a veiled look with Alec. "I think it's time I prove Idrilain right in sending me along."

"There's a traitor's moon tonight," Alec told her, as if that explained everything.

Seregil chuckled. "How's that for an omen, eh?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Beka demanded. "We've got to find a way to stop Korathan—" Breaking off, she stared at him. "You're not saying you mean to go?"

"Well, Alec and I."

Alec grinned. "Know anyone else you trust with this information who can pass as Aurenfaie?"

"But the proscriptions! If you're caught they'll kill you. And maybe Alec, too!"

Suddenly it wasn't a spy or coconspirator she was looking at but the man who'd been friend and uncle to her since her birth, who'd carried her on his shoulders, brought exotic presents, and taught her the finer points of fighting. And Alec—-Tears stung her eyes and she turned quickly away.

Seregil clasped her shoulders, turning her to face him again. "Then we'd damn well better not get caught," he told her. "Besides, we'll be in Akhendi territory, then Gedre. They may haul me

back, but they won't hurt me. I know it's risky, but there's no other way. Your father would understand. I'm hoping you will, too. We need your help, Captain."

The subtle rebuke stung just enough to clear her head. "All right, then. What's the soonest Korathan will reach Gedre?"

"With a good following wind? Four or five days. We can reach the coast in three and sail out to meet him before he comes in sight of the port."

"Time enough, barring accidents," she said, frowning. "But I still say it's suicide for you to go. Perhaps Alec and I could pull it off, or Thero."

Seregil shook his head. "Korathan is going to take a lot of convincing to cross his sister, and with all due respect, I think I'm the one who can best carry that off. He knows me, and he knows the regard his mother had for me. Loyal as he is to Phoria, he's the more reasonable of the pair. I think I can sway him."

"How do you plan to reach Gedre without getting caught? I assume someone will go after you as soon as they find out you're missing."

"They'll have to find us first. There are other routes over the mountains. The one I have in mind is tough going in places, but shorter than the trail we came over. My uncle used to bring us down that way on smuggling runs."

"Are those passes protected by magic, too?" asked Thero. "If anything happens to you, what will Alec do? He can't get through that any more than we could."

"We'll worry about that when we need to," Seregil replied. "Right now we need to figure out a way to get out of the city without being seen."

"The moon's in our favor, at least," said Alec. "With Aurenfaie clothes and horses, we shouldn't attract much attention. It could be morning before we're missed."

"Perhaps longer, if I can manage a few tricks," said the wizard.

"You could go out as escorts with one of my dispatch riders," Beka mused. "Steal different horses once you're well away from the city, while the rider takes yours with her and leaves a false trail."

"Sometimes I forget whose daughter you are," chuckled Seregil. His smile faded as he continued, however. "We have to keep this among ourselves. Except for the rider, no one else can know, not even our own people, since anyone who does will be forced to lie sooner or later.

"Play up Klia's illness, Beka. Keep the Iia'sidra away from her as long as you can. If you do get trapped here, Adzriel will protect you, even if it means claiming you as hostages." He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe you'll see Bokthersa before I do."

"That still leaves us penned in here with a spy." Thero shook his head in disgust. "Ever since I read that letter, I've been wondering how someone could have been spying on us under our very noses. If they'd used magic, I swear I'd have sensed it!"

"Torsin managed to carry on his business without our tumbling for quite some time," Seregil reminded him. "That didn't take any magic."

"But with Klia's knowledge," the wizard countered.

"When I find out who it is, they'll wish for poison!" hissed Beka, clenching a fist against her thigh. "There must be some way of flushing them out."

"I was thinking about that earlier," Alec said. "You're not going to like this, but what about the dispatch riders? It would be easy enough for them to slip a message through, since they're the ones carrying them. They're also the last ones to handle the pouch before it's sealed."

"Mercalle's decuria?" Beka snorted. "By the Flame, Alec, we've been through Bilairy's gate and back together!"

"Not all of them. What about the new ones? Phoria could have turned one of them."

"Or had them placed in Urgazhi Turma before this ever started," added Seregil. "In her place, that's what I'd have done. Knowing Phoria, she'd want eyes and ears anywhere she could get them— especially among Klia's troops."

Beka shook her head stubbornly. "We lost half of Mercalle's decuria during the battle on the way over here. Ileah, Urien, and Ari are all that are left of the new recruits, and they're just pups. As for the rest, Zir and Marten have been with me since the turma was formed. I know them. They've saved my life a dozen times over and I've done the same for them. They're loyal to the marrow of their bones."

"Just let me speak with Mercalle," Alec persisted. "She's closer to them than anyone. Maybe she's seen something, something she didn't even know was suspicious."

But Beka still hesitated. "Do you know what even the hint of this could do to the others? I need them united."

"It won't go beyond this room," Alec promised. "If anything does

come up, Thero can deal with it with total secrecy. But we have to know."

Beka cast an imploring look at Seregil but found no help there. "All right, then, send for Mercalle." She looked down at Klia. "But don't question her here. Not here."

"We can use my room," said Thero. He flicked a tiny message sphere into being and sent it skittering through the wall with a wave of his hand.

The cooler air in the wizard's chamber seemed to clear Seregil's head, enough for him to feel chagrin at not having arrived at Alec's conclusions himself.

Alec had been right all along—and the rhui'auros, too. Since he'd come back to Aurenen, he'd been too wrapped up in his own past, his own demons, to be of much use to anyone. Perhaps it went back even further than that. In rejecting Rhiminee, had he buried the man he'd been there, the Rhiminee Cat? I'd have been dead a hundred times over, or starved for lack of trade, if I was like this all the time.

He sat down in the chair next to Thero's neatly made bed; the others remained standing.

Mercalle entered a few moments later and came to attention in front of Thero, oblivious to the tension in the room. "You sent for me, my lord?"

"It was me, Sergeant," Alec told her, and Seregil could see him rubbing a thumb nervously over the fingers of one hand. Alec admired the Urgazhi and had always been a bit in awe of them. To bring such an accusation against them was a difficult duty, and no less so for being self-imposed.

Once committed, however, he didn't hesitate. "We have reason to believe that there's a spy in the household," he told her. "Someone who's able to get messages back to Queen Phoria. I'm sorry to say this, but it could be someone in your decuria."

The greying sergeant stared at him in shocked silence, and Seregil felt a cold jolt of certainty. Oh, hell, she does know something.

"This is hard, I know," Alec went on. "The idea of any Urgazhi putting Klia in danger—"

Mercalle wavered a moment, then sank to her knees in front of Beka. "Forgive me, Captain, I never thought it would come to this!" Eyes averted, she drew the dagger from her belt and offered it hilt foremost.

Beka made no move to accept the offered weapon. Her face had gone blank, but Seregil recognized the pain in her eyes and fought down the impulse to grab the sergeant by the hair and shake her. Mercalle and Braknil had trained Beka when she'd first joined the regiment. Both had requested to serve under her when she earned her lieutenant's gorget. Between the three of them, they'd forged Urgazhi Turma.

That first betrayal—it's always the worst, the one that never quite heals.

"Stand and explain yourself," Beka ordered.

Mercalle rose slowly to attention. "I'm glad it's come out, Captain. I offer no excuses, but on my honor I hoped it would be for the best. I swear it by Sakor's Flame."

"Just get on with it."

"General Phoria summoned me the night Queen Idrilain gave Klia this mission," Mercalle said. "She believed her mother wouldn't survive to see this out. As heir, she wanted her own informant on the scene."

"But why you?" Beka demanded, and this time there was no mistaking the grief behind the words.

Mercalle stared at the far wall, not looking at her. "Phoria was the first officer I ever served under. With respect, Captain, I came up through the ranks under her before you were born. We saw dark times together—and good ones, too. She was there when I married both my husbands, and when I buried them. I'm not proud of what she's asked of me here, but orders are orders and she was in her rights as High Commander. I thought, 'If not me, then she'll find someone who doesn't feel the loyalty I do to Klia,' and to you, Captain. All I was asked to do was to send observations. That's all I did. I never opened any letters entrusted to me, or mislaid any. If what I wrote contradicted them, it's on my head. I only told the truth as I saw it, and tried to put the best light on it that I could for Commander Klia's sake. If I'd ever thought it would come to this—" A tear rolled slowly down her cheek. "I'd cut off my sword hand before I'd willingly bring harm to any of you."

"Did you send word that we knew of the queen's death?" asked Seregil.

"I sent my respects, my lord. I thought you all had." "Then it was you, listening outside the door of Klia's room when we learned of it," said Alec.

Mercalle shot him another startled look. "Just for a bit. Those were orders, too."

Seregil recalled the bit of stable muck they'd found in the corridor outside and shook his head. Bilairy's Balls, it was a good thing one of them had retained some sense.

"Are any of the other riders involved?" asked Beka.

"On my honor, Captain, none of them. How could I order them to do something I found so repugnant myself?"

"Have you sent Phoria word of what's happened to Klia?" Seregil demanded.

"No, Lord Thero ordered me not to, the day she fell ill."

Seregil snorted. "A spy with honor. I just hope you're telling us the truth, Sergeant. You may have doomed us all as it is."

"When did you last send a report?" asked Alec.

"The day before Klia collapsed."

"And what did you say? "

"That the date of the vote had been set, and that no one seemed very hopeful about the outcome."

"We'll speak more of this later," Beka growled. Going to the door, she called in the two sentries on duty, Ariani and Patra. "Riders, keep Sergeant Mercalle under guard. She's relieved of duty until you hear differently from me."

To their credit, the riders didn't hesitate, though they both looked thunderstruck by the order. When they were gone, Beka rounded on Alec. "You knew it was her?"

"I didn't," he assured her. "Not until just now."

"Oh, Alec," Seregil muttered. His own reputation as a clever intriguer was founded on more fortuitous discoveries of this sort than he liked to admit, but he'd always been careful to capitalize on them by making it look intentional after the fact.

"There's a certain logic in what she said," Thero offered. "Perhaps it was better having a friend doing the spying than an enemy."

Beka stalked angrily to the window. "I'm aware of that. If Phoria had given me the same order—" She slammed her hand against the sill. "No! No, damn it! I'd have found a way to tell Klia, protect her. By the Flame, how could Phoria do this? It sounds as if she was counting on her mother's death."

Thero shook his head sadly. "My friends, I believe we are seeing the beginnings of a new era for Skala, one we may not like very much."

"We can worry about that later," Seregil said. "Right now we have enough problems. We'll leave as soon as it's dark."

Beka turned to look at him. "What are we going to tell your sisters?"

"Let me speak to them." Seregil ran a hand back through his hair and sighed, not relishing the prospect of such a farewell.

38

Traitor's Moon

Seregil put off going to his sisters until nightfall, though they were never far from his thoughts. He and Alec had made most of their stealthy preparations separately, ostensibly to avoid notice. The truth was, he'd needed some small part of this leave-taking to himself.

Alone in the bedchamber that afternoon, he found himself working too quickly as he gathered what little he needed for the journey: his mail shirt, warm Aurenfaie clothes, a water skin, his tools.

Corruth's ring bumped gently against his chest as he worked. He paused a moment and pressed a hand over it, knowing he'd thrown away any chance he might have had to wear it with honor. He was already an outlaw.

A sudden wave of dizziness forced him down on the edge of the bed. It had been easy enough to keep up a front for the others; dissembling was one of his greatest talents. But alone now, he felt something inside break, sharp and hurtful as one of the shattered glass orbs from his visions. Pressing a hand over his eyes, he fought back the tears seeping beneath his tightly closed lids.

"I'm right. I know I'm right!" he whispered. He was the only one Korathan would listen to.

But you 're not so certain as you 've let on that he'll agree, are you?

Shamed by his momentary weakness, he wiped his face and pulled his poniard from his bedroll, savoring the familiar weight of its hilt against his palm. Beka had kept this and his dagger for him since they landed in Gedre. He tested the edges of the slender blade with a thumbnail, then slipped it into the knife pocket in his boot; another proscription broken.

If he failed? Well then, his failure would be gloriously complete. He hadn't protected Klia. He hadn't caught the assassins. Now he was probably throwing away his life, and Alec's in the bargain, to forestall Phoria's insane act of aggression.

Even if they did succeed, what awaited them in Skala? What sort of a queen ruled there now, and how glad would she be to see her sister safely home?

Another question lurked below all the others, one he had no intention of examining until he was well away from Aurenen—

forever

—a question he planned to spend the rest of his life avoiding.

what if—?

No!

Tossing his pack on the bed, he made a quick circuit of the room, focusing on its remaining contents. Whatever he left behind he wasn't likely to see again. No matter. He was about to go when the soft glint of silver caught his eye amid a pile of clothing next to the bed. Bending down, he fished out the vial of lissik the rhui'auros had given him.

"Might as well have something to show for my troubles," he mumbled, slipping it into a belt pouch.

The first lamps were being lit when he finally slipped next door. Alec hadn't offered to come, bless him, just given him a quick, knowing embrace.

Both Adzriel and Mydri were at home. Taking them aside into a small sitting room, he shut the door and leaned against it.

"I'm leaving Sarikali tonight."

Mydri was the first to recover. "You can't!"

Adzriel silenced her with a glance, then searched her brother's face with sorrow-filled eyes. "You do this for Klia?"

"For her. For Skala. For Aurenen."

"But it's teth'sag if you leave the city," Mydri said.

"Only for me," he told her. "I'm still outcast, so Bokthersa can't be held accountable."

"Oh, tali," Adzriel said softly. "With all you've done here, you might have won your name back in time."

There it was, that question he'd buried alive.

"Perhaps, but at too high a price," he told her.

"Then tell us why!" Mydri pleaded.

He gathered the two women close, suddenly needing their arms around him, their tears hot against his neck.

O Aural he cried silently, clinging to them. It was so tempting to let them convince him, to take it all back and simply wait out the inevitable here, as close to home as he was ever likely to get in this life. If Klia were taken hostage, perhaps he'd even be allowed to stay with her.

It hurt. By the Light, it hurt to leave that embrace, but he had to, before it was too late.

"I'm sorry, but I can't explain," he told them. "You couldn't maintain atui if you had to keep my secret. All I ask is that you say nothing until tomorrow. Later, when everything's sorted, I'll explain, I swear. But I promise you now, by the khi of our parents, that what I'm doing is honorable and right. A wise man warned me that I'd have to make choices. This is the right one, even if it's not what I'd hoped."

"Wait here, then." Adzriel turned and hurried from the room.

"You little fool!" Mydri hissed, glaring at him again. "After all it took to bring you here, you do this to her? To me?"

Seregil caught her hand and pressed it over his heart. "You're a healer. Tell me what you feel," he challenged, meeting her anger with his own. "Is it joy? Betrayal? Hatred for you or my people?"

She went still, and he felt heat spread slowly across his skin beneath her palm. "No," she whispered. "No, Haba, I feel none of that. Only resolve, and fear."

Seregil laughed a little at that. "More fear than resolve just now."

Mydri pulled him close again, hugging him hard. "You're still a fool, Haba, but you've grown into a fine, good man in spite of it. Aura watch over you always and everywhere."

"Our other sisters will hate me for this."

"They're bigger fools even than you," she said with a tearful laugh, pushing him away. "Adzriel's the only one of the five of us worth a peddler's pot."

Laughing outright, he thanked her with a kiss.

Adzriel returned with a long, slender bundle in her arms. "We

meant to give you this when you left. It seems the time has come, if a bit sooner than I'd anticipated." Folding back the cloth wrappings at the upper end, she presented him with the hilt of a sword.

Seregil reached without thinking, closing his hand around the leather and wire-wrapped grip. With a single smooth motion he pulled the blade free of its scabbard.

Polished steel caught the light like dark silver. A grooved fuller ran down the center of the blade, making it both strong and light. Tapered cross guards curved gracefully toward the blade, good for catching an opponent's sword.

Seregil's breath caught in his throat as he hefted it. It moved perfectly in his hand, just heavy enough, and balanced by the weight of its round, flat pommel.

"Akaien made this, didn't he?" he asked, recognizing his uncle's hand in the sword's clean, strong lines.

"Of course," Adzriel replied. "We knew that you wouldn't want Father's, so he made this for you. After seeing how you lived in Rhiminee, I suspected you wouldn't want anything too ornate."

"It's beautiful. And this!" He smoothed a thumb over the unusual pommel, a large disk of polished Sarikali stone set in a steel bevel. "I've never seen anything like it."

No sooner had he said it, however, than he had the strongest sense that he had seen something very much like it, though he wasn't certain where.

"He said it came to him in a dream, a talisman to keep you safe and bring you luck," Mydri explained.

"Luck in the shadows," he murmured in Skalan, shaking his head.

" You know Akaien and his dreams!" Mydri said fondly.

Seregil looked up at her in surprise. "I'd forgotten."

He sheathed the blade and ran his fingers over the fine leather scabbard and long belt, fighting the temptation to put it on. "I'm not supposed to carry a weapon here, you know."

"You're not supposed to be leaving, either," Adzriel said with a catch in her voice. "With all Alec and Beka have told me, I was worried that you would not accept it."

Seregil shook his head, bemused. His hand had known this weapon from the instant he'd touched it; it hadn't occurred to him to refuse it.

"I promise you this." Unsheathing it again, he put the hilt in Adzriel's hand and set the point against his heart, leaning into it until it dented the front of his coat. "By Aura Elustri, and by the name I once had, this blade will never be drawn in anger against an Aurenfaie."

"Then keep your temper and protect yourself," Adzriel advised, handing it back. "What shall I say when they find you gone?" Seregil smiled crookedly. "Tell them I got homesick."

He hid the sword in the stable, then took the back stairs two at a time. Resisting the urge to look in on Klia one last time, he hurried to his room, taking care to inform several servants he met along the way that he and Alec were retiring for the night.

The bedchamber was in near darkness, lit only by one small lamp. The balcony shutters were closed tight. The tunic and trousers he'd stolen earlier lay on the neatly made bed, together with an Akhendi sen'gai.

"Alec?" he called softly, hastily changing his clothes.

"Over here. I'm just finishing up," a voice said from somewhere beyond the bed.

Alec stepped into the light, still toweling his wet hair. Seregil halted, unexpectedly moved by the sight of his friend wearing Aurenfaie clothing. It suited Alec, making him look more 'faie than ya'shel. He'd always had the slender build and carriage—Seregil had recognized that the first time he'd laid eyes on him—but somehow it was more apparent now. As Alec removed the towel, the resemblance became that much stronger. Thanks to a walnut-shell concoction they'd brewed up earlier, his yellow hair and brows were now as brown as Seregil's.

"Did it work?" Alec asked, running a comb through the wet strands.

"It certainly did. I hardly recognize you myself."

Alec pulled something from his belt—another sen'gai. "I hope you know how to wrap these things. I haven't had much luck and didn't dare ask anyone for help."

"A good thing, too. Where'd you get these?" Seregil fingered the brown-and-green-patterned cloth with misgivings. Wearing false colors was a crime.

Alec shrugged. "Off a laundry line this afternoon. I just happened to be in the right place with no one else in sight. 'Take what the god sends and be thankful,' right? What are you waiting for? We've got to get moving!"

Seregil smoothed the cloth between his fingers again, then placed the midpoint across Alec's brow and began weaving the long ends around his head to form as good an approximation as he could manage of the Akhendi style. Tying the long ends off over Alec's tattooed ear, he stepped back and looked him over with approval. "The

Akhendi have enough ya'shel among them that you shouldn't draw much notice anyway, but you could pass for pure just as easily."

Even in this light, Seregil could see the faint blush of pleasure that darkened his friend's cheeks.

"What about you?" Alec asked, belting on his sword.

Seregil glanced down at the remaining sen'gai lying untouched on the bed. "No. If I ever do put on one again, it will be one I have a right to."

Thero slipped in and closed the door behind him. "I thought it must be time. Are you ready?"

Seregil exchanged a quick look with Alec, then nodded. "You go ahead and make sure the way is clear. We'll be right behind you."

The unlit stable yard appeared deserted. Thero stood a moment, then motioned for Seregil and Alec to follow. Sending a silent thanks to Beka, Seregil strode across to the stable.

Inside, a lone woman was saddling a horse with Aurenfaie tack by the glow of a lightstone. Two other horses, one Aurenfaie, one Skalan, were ready to go. She heard them come in and turned, pushing back the brim of her helmet.

"Bilairy's Balls!" Seregil growled.

It was Beka. She'd traded her captain's gorget for a dispatch pouch and wore the worn tabard of a common rider. Her long red hair was bound up tightly at the back of her neck.

"What are you doing?" Thero hissed, equally surprised.

"Going with them as far as need be," she whispered back, handing Alec and Seregil the reins of the Aurenfaie horses.

"You're needed here!"

"I've been wresting with that all day," she said. "This is a command decision. Right now, nothing is more important than stopping Korathan. Rhylin and Braknil can manage here until we get all this sorted out. And if we don't—well, it may not matter."

Seregil laid a hand on the wizard's arm, forestalling further argument. "She's right."

Frowning, Thero gave in. "I can shield you until you're out of the city," he offered, drawing his wand.

"No, you'd better not. There are too many folk around who'd smell your magic on us. We'll manage, with two of us—" He gave Thero the quick, subtle sign for "Watcher."

Alec saw and nodded at Beka. "Perhaps it's time we made it three? I think Magyana would approve."

"I believe she would," Seregil agreed. "A bit sooner than we'd planned, perhaps, but there's no doubt of her worth."

"You mean it?" Beka breathed, wide-eyed.

He grinned. The Watchers were a strange, fractured group—even he did not know who all the members were—but Beka had seen too much growing up not to have formed some ideas of her own.

"Do you understand what it means, Beka, to be a Watcher?" asked Thero.

"Enough," she replied, confirming Seregil's suspicions. "If it means serving Skala as Seregil and my father have, then I'm in."

"There's a great deal more to it than that, but we'll deal with that later," Seregil said, hoping she wouldn't have cause to regret this hasty decision during the dark days ahead. "Do it, Thero."

Thero pulled an ancient ivory dagger from his belt and set it spinning inches from Beka's face. This was the test of truth, and one that allowed for no mistakes. Beka stood unflinching, her gaze fixed on Thero.

The sight brought a lump to Seregil's throat. This same knife had belonged to Nysander. It had spun in front of his own face when he took the oath as a very young man. Years later, Alec had felt its threat and passed the challenge.

"Beka, daughter of Kari," Thero whispered. "A Watcher must observe carefully, report truthfully, and keep the secrets that must be kept. Do you swear by your heart and eyes and by the Four to do these things?"

"I do."

The knife tumbled harmlessly into Thero's outstretched hand. "Then welcome, and luck in the shadows to you."

Only then did she betray relief. "That wasn't so bad."

"That's the easy part," Alec told her, grinning as broadly as she was. "Now you're really in the middle of it."

Seregil felt his heart skip a beat as she turned to him, eyes full of quiet triumph. "Whatever comes, I'm with you."

"First the commission; now this. Your poor mother will never speak to me again." Seregil gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, then went to retrieve his sword from its hiding place in the hay.

"Where did you get that?" Alec asked.

"A gift from my sisters." Seregil tossed the sword belt to him and went to sling his pack over his saddlebow.

Alec drew the blade. "It's a beauty."

Seregil took the belt back, wrapping it twice around his waist. Alec gave him the sword and he sheathed it, fiddling with the

scabbard lacings until it hung at the proper, low-slung angle against his left hip. His hands remembered each movement without the need for thought; the off-centered weight of the weapon at his side felt good and right. "Let's go."

"Luck in the shadows," Thero murmured again, walking them to the gate.

"And in the light," Seregil replied. He clasped the wizard's thin shoulder a moment, wondering what else to say... If this all went wrong, this would be their last parting.

Thero covered his hand with his own for a moment. The silence between them was charged with sentiments neither knew quite how to express.

Alec spared them the necessity. "We'll see that your rooms at the Oreska House are aired out for your return," he joked.

Thero's smile flashed in the darkness, then he was gone, barring the gate behind them.

Mounting his horse, Seregil looked up at the black disk of the new moon, just visible among the blazing stars.

Ebraha rabas.

Astha Noliena.

Nyal watched Beka and the others out of sight, then slipped away in the opposite direction, unaware of the rhui'auros who watched him.

Though it seemed a foolish risk, Seregil stopped one last time at the Vhadasoori. Across the dark span of water he could see a few people gathered around the Cup for some ceremony, but this side of the pool was deserted. Driven by some half-formed desire, he dismounted and went to the water's edge. Kneeling, he drew his sword and plunged it into the sacred pool, hilt and all.

"Aura Elustri, I accept your gift," he whispered, too low for the others to hear.

Reversing his grip on the hilt, he stood and offered the weapon to the moon, then let out a soft laugh.

Alec joined him, scanning the surrounding shadows nervously. "What's so funny?"

"Look at this." Seregil held the pommel up; the round, dark stone looked like a second new moon against the stars. "My uncle and his dreams."

"So that runs in the family, too, does it?"

"Apparently." Sheathing his sword, Seregil scooped up a handful of water and drank. He felt edgy, light, a little giddy, the way he used to, just before a job.

It was time to go.

They set off to the north, anxious to get away from the populated streets. The unrest was worse tonight. Angry voices rang out in all directions around them. Alec thought he caught a fleeting hint of the Bash'wai's mysterious scent and remained vigilant, expecting pursuit at any moment.

But most of the people they met paid them little mind, until they reached the edge of the Golinil tupa, where a half dozen youths emerged from a side street to follow them.

"Off to serve your foreign queen, Akhendi?" one of them shouted after Alec. The insult was followed by a hail of thrown rocks. One bounced off Beka's helmet. Another struck Seregil in the middle of the back. The horses shied, but Seregil kept a slow, steady pace.

"Aura bring you peace, brothers," he said.

"Peace! Peace!" came the jeering reply, together with more rocks. One grazed Beka's cheek when she unwisely looked back. Alec reined in angrily, ready to retaliate, but she blocked him with her horse.

"Come on; there's no time for this!" she warned, kicking her horse into a gallop.

The Golinil soon gave up the chase, but the riders didn't slow until they burst out onto the open plain. How far do we have to go before he's breaking the law? Alec wondered as they slowed to a canter under the star-studded sky.

Just then the Bash'wai scent closed in around him again, strong enough to take his breath away. Reeling in the saddle, he felt rather than saw a dark force surround him, blinding him and roaring in his ears. Then the stars were back, brighter than ever, but sliding sideways.

He landed hard and gave thanks later that he hadn't flung out his arm in time to break or dislocate it. As it was, his ribs took a nasty jar. He lay still for a moment, gasping and tingling strangely all over.

Then Seregil was there, cursing fiercely under his breath as he ran his hands over Alec's face and head. "I didn't realize—I don't feel any blood. Where did they hit you?"

"Hit me?" Alec struggled up. "No, it was just the Bash'wai. That's the strongest I've ever felt them."

Beka loomed over Seregil's shoulder, drawn sword in hand. "What did they do to you? You just swooned over."

"Must have been their idea of saying good-bye," Alec said, grimacing as Seregil helped him to his feet.

"Or a warning," Beka put in darkly, scanning the darkness around them.

"No, this was different." He shivered, recalling the sense of being engulfed.

"You're chilled through," Seregil muttered, pressing a hand to Alec's cheek.

"I'm fine. Where's my horse?"

Beka handed him his reins. "We better go slowly for a few minutes. We don't need you keeling over at a gallop."

Alec glanced back at the city as they set off again, half expecting to see mysterious shapes drifting after him. Sarikali looked deceptively peaceful from here, a dark, jumbled sprawl against the sky touched here and there by the yellow gleam of a watch fire.

"Good-bye," he whispered.

The starlight was enough to see by as they crossed the bridge and rode into the shelter of the forest beyond, following the main road.

As the night wore on Alec reached tentatively out across the talimenios bond, seeking answers to the questions there had been neither the time nor the privacy to ask earlier. Seregil glanced back at him and smiled, but his thoughts were wrapped in silence.

Tall fir and oak massed darkly on either side of the road, leaning over it in places to form an oppressive tunnel. Bats chirped and swooped around them, chasing huge moths with wings like dusty handprints. An owl flew along beside Alec for a moment, some long-tailed prey dangling from its talons. Other creatures marked their passing with a golden flash of eyes or startled yip.

They reined in briefly where a stream cut close to the road and watered the horses. Thirsty himself, Alec dismounted and walked a little way upstream to drink. He'd just bent down when a rank odor hit him. The horses smelled it, too, and blew nervously.

"Get back!" Alec hissed to the others, knowing this was no Bash'wai.

"What is it? " Beka asked behind him.

The horses shied again, then fought the reins as an enormous bear burst from the alders and splashed across the stream toward Alec.

"Don't move," he warned the others, mind already racing down

well-known paths. It was a sow bear, thin from the winter's cub bearing. If they'd somehow gotten between her and her young, then he'd reached his journey's end for certain.

The bear had stopped a few feet away, swinging her massive head from side to side as she watched him. Seregil and Beka were still mounted, able to break for it. With one eye on the bear, he gauged the distance to the nearest climbable tree.

Too far.

The bear let out a loud grunt and lumbered forward to sniff his face. Alec gagged on the hot, fetid breath, then felt himself knocked backwards. Sprawled on his back, he looked up at the bear silhouetted against the sky, its eyes glowing like molten gold.

"You'd better not linger, little brother," she told him. "Smiles conceal knives."

With a last deep grunt, the sow wheeled around and splashed away upstream. Alec lay where he'd fallen, too stunned to move.

"By the Flame, I've never seen a bear act like that!" Beka exclaimed.

"Did you hear it?" he asked faintly.

"Not until you gave the warning," she replied. "It came out of nowhere."

"No, did you hear what she said?" he asked, getting shakily to his feet.

"She spoke to you?" Seregil asked excitedly. "By the Light, Alec, that was a khtir'bai. What did it say?"

Alec bent down and placed his hand easily inside one clawed paw print. It had been no apparition. "Same thing the rhui'auros told you," he replied in wonder." 'Smiles conceal knives.' "

"At least they're consistent in their obscurity," grumbled Beka.

"I suspect we'll find out what it means soon enough," said Seregil.

Fog seeped up from the ground as they rode, collecting beneath the dark boughs and dripping coldly from the ends of long evergreen needles. Spiderwebs were woven across narrow places in the trail; they were all soon coated in sticky wet strands.

Just after midnight they reached a sizable village next to a small lake.

"The first change of horses for the dispatch riders is here, in a byre just beyond town," Beka whispered. "Do we dare make a change here, or cut around?"

Seregil slapped absently at a spider on his thigh. "We need the

horses. Dressed as we are, and at this hour, we should be safe enough. I doubt there's even a guard posted."

Just past the last small house they found a sagging lean-to, its cedar-shake roof thick with moss. Three sturdy horses were stabled inside. Dismounting, they shifted their saddles over, working by the light of Seregil's lightstone.

As they led the new mounts out, however, a sleepy young face appeared out of a pile of hay at the back of the byre. Beka grabbed quickly for Seregil's light, waving the others outside. Holding the light high to keep her face in shadow below the brim of her helmet, she faced the boy. He was sitting up now, regarding her with groggy interest; not a guard, just someone left to tend the horses.

He mumbled something, and she recognized the word for "messenger."

"Yes, sleep again," Beka replied in her broken Aurenfaie. Her knowledge of the language had improved, but she still understood more than she could say back. "Ours we leave."

"Is that you, Vanos?" the boy asked, craning his head for a look at Alec.

Alec whispered something back and quickly disappeared.

The boy squinted back up at Beka as she turned to go. "I don't know you."

Beka shrugged apologetically, as if she didn't understand, then pocketed the light and led her horse out.

The hay rustled behind her and she heard the boy mutter, "Cheap Skalan."

Just like home, Beka thought with amusement. Pulling a coin from her wallet, she flipped it in his direction.

"Now we've been seen," Alec muttered as they set off up the road again.

"Couldn't be helped," Seregil said. "He mistook us for the usual riders, and we'll be long gone before anyone comes looking for us."

"I hope you're right," Beka replied doubtfully.

Thero prowled the halls after Seregil and the others left. Only Braknil and Rhylin shared his vigil; as far as the others knew, Beka was on duty with the princess. Klia remained unconscious, mercifully oblivious as Mydri checked her mutilated hand repeatedly through the night, debating whether or not to cut more away.

From the beginning, their little delegation had rattled about the cavernous place like seeds in a dry gourd. Now, with so many missing or dead, the sense of emptiness was palpable. Thero strengthened the warding spells he'd laid about the place, then retreated to the colos. The fragrant night breeze across the back of his neck felt good as he took a lump of candle drippings from his pocket and set about warming it between his fingers. When it was soft, he divided it in two and took out his wand. Slipping off the two long strands of hair—one Seregil's, one Alec's—knotted around it, he kneaded each into one of the wax balls until it disappeared. Speaking the appropriate spells, he covered them with netted designs he made with the tip of his dagger. A red glow flared briefly at the center of each soft lump when he finished. Satisfied, he tucked them away for future use.

It was well past midnight now; a few scattered pinpricks of firelight glimmered in the distance. Imagining groups of friends or lovers awake together in the glow of those lights, he was suddenly overcome by a wave of loneliness. The people he trusted most were already miles away. Those whose trust he needed, here in this strange land, he must lie to, breaking honor to serve his princess.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, he settled himself more comfortably on the stone seat to meditate. Instead, his unruly imagination took him back to the mysterious vision he'd experienced during his first visit to the Nha'mahat. He absently smoothed the lap of his robe; the dragon bite had healed, but the marks left behind remained as an impressive reminder of that night's half-realized enlightenments.

Something landed on the back of his hand, startling him badly. Looking down, he saw that it was a little dragon no longer than his thumb. It clung to his knuckle with tickling claws and regarded him curiously.