He sat very still, wondering if the creature would bite. Instead, it folded its delicate wings against its sides and went to sleep, its smooth belly radiating welcome heat against his skin.

"Thank you," he murmured to it. "I can use the company."

The dragon's warmth spread up from his hand, warming him through. Smiling, he settled into a quiet meditation. When the inevitable uproar began, whatever form it took, he would need his wits about him.

39

Paths Diverging

Clouds had rolled down out of the mountains during the night, and dawn brightened slowly behind a fine veil of rain. Beka licked at a sweet drop that spattered against her cheek, grateful for a taste of fresh water.

They'd ridden steadily all night, keeping to the main road to preserve the illusion of being routine couriers. Along the way, however, they had paused long enough to steal four extra horses. When the time came to part, not too long from now, she'd take the way-station horses with her to confuse the trail.

It was a good plan—she'd carried out similar ruses often enough against the Plenimarans—but for the past hour or so Seregil had been quiet, and spent too much time staring off into the thick forest along the roadside for her liking. Alec was watching him, too, sensing trouble.

Seregil reined in again so abruptly that her horse barreled into his.

"Damn it, what is it now?" she asked, pulling her horse's head around sharply as Seregil's spirited sorrel lashed out with its back hooves.

He said nothing, just gentled his mount and scanned an overgrown byway on their left. His expression was not encouraging.

"We've missed the side road you're looking for, haven't we?" Alec asked, and Beka heard the undertone of worry in his voice. There was good reason for alarm. Seregil was their only guide here, and it had been over half a lifetime since he'd traveled these roads.

Seregil shrugged. "Maybe. Or perhaps it's been abandoned since I last saw it, given what Amali said about villages dying out here." He glanced up at the brightening sky, and his tight-lipped frown deepened. "Come on, we've got to get off the main road soon. There are other ways to the trail."

The khirnari of Akhendi woke to the sound of someone lifting the latch of his chamber door. Heart pounding, he reached for the knife beneath his pillow and flung an arm out to protect Amali, only to find the other half of the bed empty.

His steward, Glamiel, slipped in with a candle and padded softly to his bedside.

"Where is my wife?" Rhaish demanded, clutching his aching chest.

"In the garden, Khirnari. She rose a little while ago."

"Of course." Sleep visited him so seldom these days and left him muddled when he woke. "What is it, then? It's not dawn yet."

"It is, Khirnari. Amali gave orders that your rest not be disturbed, but there's been strange news this morning." Glamiel went to the tall windows and pulled back the hangings. Grey light filled the room, and the smell of rain. Looking out through the flowering boughs that framed the casement, Rhaish saw his wife sitting alone beneath an arbor. She'd wept last night, imploring him again to explain his silence and his anger. What could he have told her?

Distracted, he missed the first part of Glamiel's news and had to ask him to repeat it.

"The Skalans sent out a dispatch rider last night," the man told him.

"What of it?"

"As you say, Khirnari, no one thought anything of it, until word came in just now from the first way station that neither of the Akhendi escorts gave the usual signal, and that the Skalan rider was one the boy had never seen before. One of the escorts claimed to be Vanos i Namal, but he's still at the Skalan barracks. I've spoken with him myself. So are all the others assigned to guide the Skalans. What should we do?"

"How long ago did you get word of this?"

"Just now, Khirnari. Should Brythir i Nien be informed of this?"

"No. Not until we learn what our Skalan friends are up to." After

a moment's consideration, he added, "Send for Seregil. I wish to speak with him at once."

Alone again, Rhaish sagged back against his pillows as an image rose to his mind's eye: Seregil skillfully slitting the dead fish, extracting the ring with as much certainty as if he'd known it was there all along. And earlier, in the garden, he'd searched so intently, so efficiently. At the time it had been gratifying, astonishing. Now the memory filled him with unease.

The cold kiss of a rain-laden breeze woke Thero. Outside the colos, a morning shower pattered down on the roof tiles and voices drifted up to him from the street below. Catching Seregil's name, he sent a sighting spell that way and discovered Mirn and Steb speaking with an Akhendi man he didn't recognize.

"I haven't seen Lord Seregil yet this morning," Mirn was saying. "I'll tell him Lord Rhaish is looking for him as soon as he comes down."

"It's a matter of some urgency," the Akhendi replied.

Here we go, then, Thero thought. Hurrying down to Seregil's abandoned room, he latched the door after him. None too soon, either, as it turned out. The latch lifted, then jiggled against the lock pin.

"Seregil, you're wanted downstairs." It was Kheeta, damn the luck. A servant could be put off with a curt response. "Are you awake? Seregil? Alec?"

Thero passed his hand quickly over the bed, willing a memory, any memory, from it. The bed let out a rhythmic creaking, accompanied by a throaty masculine moan. The wizard fell back a pace, annoyed. He'd expected snoring, but supposed he should have known better.

The sounds had the desired effect, however. There was a meaningful silence on the far side of the door, then the tactful retreat of footsteps.

Wasting no time, Thero took out the wax balls he'd prepared the night before, pinched them man-shaped, and placed them beneath the edge of the coverlet. Weaving shapes on the air with his wand, Thero hummed tonelessly under his breath, remembering faces, limbs, the shapes of hands and feet. The wax simulacra swelled and lengthened beneath the blankets. By the time he finished they had a fair likeness of Seregil and Alec but were still stiff and expressionless. Laying a finger on Seregil's cold brow, Thero blew into his nostrils. Color suffused the pallid cheeks, and the features relaxed into something like sleep. He did the same with Alec's double, then arranged the pair into a sleeping pose. Summoning more memories from shared nights on the road, he added the steady rise and fall of breath, with the lightest of snores from Alec. With any luck and a bit of delicacy on the part of servants, this might buy them a few more precious hours.

He left the door unlatched and made his way down to the main hall, where Kheeta was making excuses to their Akhendi visitor.

"Good morning," Thero said, coming forward to greet their guest. "What brings you here at this hour?"

The man bowed. "Greetings, Thero i Procepios. Amali a Yassara wishes to examine the Akhendi charm Seregil brought her. She is feeling quite strong this morning."

The charm! Thero reached for the pouch at his belt, then frowned. Seregil had had it last; in all the confusion caused by Magyana's letter, Thero hadn't thought to get it back from him.

"You should have said so!" exclaimed Kheeta, already halfway to the stairway again. "I'm sure they won't mind being disturbed for that."

"Let me," Thero said quickly, regretting his own ruse. "I'll send him to you as soon as he's"—here he gave Kheeta a hard look— "awake."

"There; this is the one," Seregil called out happily, squinting down yet another unremarkable side road.

Beka stifled a groan. Except for the flock of kutka pecking morning grit in the tall grass, it looked just like all the other sidetracks he'd halted for this morning.

"The last one you were this sure of cost us half an hour's ride in the wrong direction," Alec pointed out, far more patiently than Beka could have managed.

"No, this is the one," he insisted. "See that boulder there?" He pointed to a large grey rock a few yards down the road on the right. "What does that look like to you?"

Beka gripped the reins more tightly. "Look, I'm hungry and I don't remember when I last slept—"

"I'm serious. What does it look like to you?" He was grinning madly now, and she wondered how long it had been since he'd had any rest himself.

Alec met her questioning look with his usual shrug, then turned his attention to the rock in question.

It was about six feet long, four high, and roughly oval in shape. The end facing them narrowed sharply into a pair of even concave depressions that made it look almost like—

"A bear?" she ventured, wondering if she was losing her mind, too. The narrowed end did have the look of a low-set head, with the smooth curve of a bear's back rising up behind it.

"I see it," chuckled Alec. "We seem to be haunted by bears. This is your landmark?"

"Yes," Seregil replied, clearly relieved. "Damn, I'd forgotten about it until I saw it just now. If you look closely, you can still make out where someone painted eyes on it. But this used to be a well-traveled route. There were several villages up in the hills, and a Dravnian trading camp beyond."

"It can't be seeing much traffic these days," Beka said, still doubtful. Foot-high saplings choked the narrow, weed-grown track.

"That's good," said Seregil. "The fewer people we run into, the better I'll like it. Thero isn't the only one who can send messages by magic, you know." He glanced up at the sun. "It's getting late. We should be further along by now."

Without dismounting, he and Alec shifted their saddles and gear to two of the stolen horses and climbed across. It took some managing, and Beka's help with the girths, but this way they left no telltale footprints for a tracker to read.

Beka fixed the reins of their cast-off mounts to her saddle with long lead ropes, letting the horses move with some independence. If anyone was tracking them, the signs would show that the "traveling companions" they'd joined up with the previous night had gone their own way while the three dispatch riders went on down the main road.

"Keep out of sight as long as you can," Seregil warned, clasping hands with her. "You can't get through the mountains without a guide, so you're trapped on this side."

"You worry about yourselves," she replied. "I'll just keep on this way as far as I can go, then strike off wherever seems best. I'll stay out another two days. After that, no matter what, I head back to Klia. The worst anyone will do if they do catch me is haul me back to Sarikali anyway. What will you do, after you've talked to Korathan?"

Seregil shrugged. "Stay with him, I expect, though it may be in chains. If I have my way, he'll set sail back to Skala directly."

"Then I'll see you both there," she said brightly, fighting back a surge of foreboding.

Alec gave her a wry smile. "Luck in the shadows, Watcher."

"And to you both." She sat her horse as they started up the. road. Seregil disappeared around the first bend without a backward glance. Alec paused to wave, then followed.

"Luck in the shadows," she whispered again. Leading her string of horses on up the main road, she set her face for the mountains.

The road got no better as Alec and Seregil went on, but it was open enough for them to canter single file. Several miles on, they came to the remains of the first village, and Seregil paused to make a quick circuit.

Some of the cottages had burned down; the rest were slowly falling apart. Small trees and weeds were encroaching rapidly on the broad clearing, sprouting up in disused garden plots and doorways.

Looking inside one of the houses, Alec found only a few bits of broken crockery. "Looks like the villagers picked up and left."

Seregil rode over and passed him a dripping water skin. "No trade, no livelihood. At least the well's still clear."

Alec drank, then rummaged in his pack for a strip of dried meat. "I wonder if we'll be able to find fresh horses along the way?"

"We'll manage," Seregil said, studying the clouds. "If we hurry, we can make the second village before nightfall. I'd rather spend the night under a roof, if we can manage it. It's still early enough in the year for it to be damn cold at night up here."

Just beyond the village they struck a broad outcropping, steep and treacherous with loose rock and threaded with little rivulets from a spring above it. A few cairns still marked the way to several trails that continued on from here.

They gave their horses their heads, letting them pick their way carefully up the slope. Looking back over his shoulder, Alec saw that the animal's unshod hooves left almost no marks in passing. It was going to take one fine tracker to catch them, he thought with satisfaction.

"I don't have it! I destroyed it, burned it up in the fire," Amali sobbed, cowering back against the bed. She'd started out defiant but quickly dissolved into tears. It made her seem even younger than

she was, and Rhaish hesitated, wondering if he had the resolve to strike her if it came to that.

"Don't lie to me! I must have it," he said sternly, looming over her. "If my fears are correct, you may already be found out. Why else would Seregil not have come by now?"

"Why won't, you tell me what this is about?" she sobbed, instinctively shielding her belly with both hands.

The gesture broke his heart, and he slumped down on the bed beside her. "For the sake of Akhendi, and for our child, you must give me the rest of it if you still have it. I know you too well, my love. You would never destroy another's handiwork." He fought to keep the rising desperation from his voice. "You must let me protect you, as I always have."

Amali stifled another sob as she crawled off the bed and went to a workbox on her dressing table. Opening it, she lifted out a tray of charm-making goods and reached beneath it. "Here, and may you make better use of it than I did!" She threw the woven bracelet at his feet.

Rhaish bent to pick it up, recalling a similar moment four nights earlier. He pushed the thought away with a shudder, knowing himself damned.

The knot work on this bracelet was simple but well done; some magic still lingered despite the loss of the charm, strong enough to hold both the memory of its maker, a peasant woman from one of the mountain villages, and that of the young man it had been made for. Alec i Amasa's khi had permeated the fibers as surely as his sweat.

Amali was still weeping. Ignoring her for the moment, Rhaish sat down in a chair by the bed and pressed the bracelet between his hands, speaking a spell. The bracelet throbbed against his palms. Closing his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Alec and his surroundings, saw dripping boughs close overhead, distant peaks just visible through a break in the trees. Saw Seregil riding beside him, gesturing at something—a large, oddly shaped boulder that Rhaish recognized immediately.

Realization knocked the breath from his lungs, and he fell back in his chair. They did know! Klia must know, or why else would she have sent them, of all people, for the northern coast?

Cold hands clasped his, and he looked down into Amali's tear-streaked face as she knelt before him. "You must return home, talia. Say nothing of any of this, and go home."

"I only meant to help," she whispered, picking up the fallen

bracelet and looking at it in horrified wonder. "What have I done, my love?"

"Nothing the Lightbearer has not ordained." Rhaish stroked her cheek gently, glad of her warmth against his thighs. He was cold, chilled to the bone despite the sunlight that had broken through the clouds. "Go on now, and prepare our house for my return. Your wait will not be long."

His legs shook as he stepped out into the deserted garden, heedless of how the wet grass soaked his slippers and the hem of his robe. Sitting down in Amali's arbor, he pressed the bracelet between his hands again, stealing glance after glance at the runaways as long as his strength allowed, until he'd seen enough to guess where they were headed.

Folding his hands, he rested a moment, feeling the comforting power of Sarikali seeping into him from the ground and air, replenishing him. He cupped his hands, picturing a distant village and the men he trusted there, while an orb of silvery light formed in the cage of his fingers. When he'd thought his message into it, he touched it and it whisked way, carrying what he hoped were the right words to the right ears.

Watching him from behind the window hangings, Amali dried her tears and prepared to send out a similar spell. "Aura protect us," she whispered when she finished, praying that this time she acted rightly.

40

Gambit

Despite all Thero's precautions, the storm broke far sooner than he'd hoped. He was helping Mydri change Klia's dressings at midmorning when Corporal Kallas hurried in, looking worried.

"There's trouble next door, my lord. I think you'd better come."

A small crowd had gathered outside Adzriel's house. She stood in the doorway with Saaban as she faced the Haman khirnari. Beside him stood the formidable Lhaar a Iriel, her face a mask of righteous indignation behind her tattoos.

"He would never have left without speaking to you!" Nazien i Hari said, leveling an accusing finger at her.

"You know as well as I that the ban of exile cut him off from clan and family," Adzriel retorted coldly. "There is no claim of atui on Bokthersa in this. Even if there were, I can tell you nothing of where he's gone or why, for I do not know. I swear it by Aura's own light."

"There's the wizard!" someone else shouted, and the unfriendly crowd turned its collective glare on Thero.

"Where is Seregil of Rhiminee?" Lhaar demanded, and he could see a faint corona of power glinting around her. His heart sank;

she might not read thoughts, but no simulacrum of his was going to fool those sharp eyes.

"He's left the city," he replied tersely. "I don't know where he's gone." That was true enough after a fashion. Seregil had purposely not revealed his route.

"Why did they leave?" demanded the Akhendi khirnari, stepping into view for the first time accompanied by the Silmai and Ra'basi khirnari. Thero quailed inwardly, all his precautions useless. How could they all have found out so quickly?

He scanned the crowd, seeking one more familiar face beneath a Ra'basi sen'gai. Nyal was nowhere to be found.

"I cannot tell you why he left, Khirnari. Perhaps the strain of his situation here took more of a toll than any of us realized."

"Nonsense!" snorted Brythir. "Your queen and your princess both vouched for him as a man of character. I have judged him to be the same. He would not simply run off! You must answer to the Iia'sidra regarding this. I'll expect to see you and your household there at once!"

"Forgive me, Khirnari, but that is not possible." An ugly murmur spread through the crowd, and Thero was glad suddenly for the soldiers at his back. "Princess Klia lies close to death, poisoned by an Aurenfaie hand. We now have reason to believe that Torsin's death was not a natural one, either. I will attend the Iia'sidra as soon as they can be assembled, but I cannot in good conscience allow any other member of this household to leave here as long as she remains in danger."

"Torsin murdered?" The old khirnari blinked up at him. "You said nothing of this before."

"We believed the murderer might reveal himself by his own guilty knowledge."

"Do you know who this murderer is?" the Khatme khirnari demanded, looking skeptical.

"I can say nothing of that, as yet," Thero replied, letting the others take that as they would, and hoping it would deflect attention from Seregil's disappearance.

"Come then, Wizard," Brythir told him, motioning for Thero to follow.

"You don't mean to go alone?" Sergeant Braknil whispered, moving in beside him.

"Stay here, all of you," Thero told him calmly. "Klia's safety is all that matters now. Send the Bokthersans back to Adzriel with my

thanks, and then set siege guard." He paused, halfway down the stairs. "Release Sergeant Mercalle back to duty, too. We need everyone we can get."

"Thank you, my lord. She's loyal to Skala, whatever else you may think of her actions." Raising his voice, Braknil added, "Take care, my lord. Send word if you need us—for anything."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, Sergeant." Going down the stairs, Thero joined the khirnari. Adzriel lingered with the others in front of her own door, but gave him a small smile as he passed. Encouragement, perhaps, or complicity?

Most of the Iia'sidra were waiting in the great chamber when they arrived. For the first time, Thero took the seat of honor in the circle, marooned in silence. Those around him spoke in low tones or behind their hands, casting occasional glances in his direction.

Ulan i Sathil was there but appeared uninterested in the whole affair. A great crowd of Haman had accompanied Nazien, and Thero recognized a good many of Emiel's companions among them. They looked to be out for blood.

Adzriel entered last with a contingent of twenty, taking her place in the circle with her husband at her side.

There was no ceremony or ringing of chimes today; this was a private matter between Skala and Haman. The others had gathered only to witness.

Nazien i Hari stepped forward as soon as the last of the khirnari had taken their seats, and to his credit displayed little satisfaction as he announced, "Before this body, I claim teth'sag against Seregil the Exile, formerly Seregil of Bokthersa, and against all those who aid and abet him. He has violated vows given for his return and I claim the vengeance that is Haman's right."

"How convenient for you," sneered Iriel a Kasrai of Bry'kha. "Seregil might have found proof of your nephew's guilt if he'd stayed around a bit longer."

"Silence!" snapped Brythir. "It is as Nazien i Hari says. The Iia'sidra itself could not deny them this right. Seregil knew this. He has made his choice and his former clan must make good their vow of atui."

"The guilt or innocence of Emiel i Moranthi has no bearing on this," Nazien proclaimed. "As khirnari of Haman, and as the grandfather of the man the Exile murdered, I have no choice. I demand that the Bokthersans administer justice under the law."

Adzriel stood, pale but unbowed. "Justice shall be yours, Khirnari." Mydri and Saaban remained stoic, but behind them, Kheeta and several others covered their faces.

The Silmai turned next to him. "Now, Thero i Procepios, I demand that you explain Seregil's disappearance. Why did he leave, and who helped him?"

"I regret that I can tell you nothing," Thero said again, and took his seat amid the expected outcry.

A lone figure detached itself from the shadows near the door and entered the circle. Here was Nyal at last.

"I think you will find it was Alec i Amasa and the Skalan captain who accompanied Seregil," he announced, not looking in Thero's direction.

You skulking cur! the wizard thought, sick with rage. So that was how the Haman had gotten word so quickly.

Ulan i Sathil rose, and a hush fell over the chamber. Tarnished as his honor might be, he still commanded respect. "Perhaps the more immediate question we should be asking is why he left," he said. "This sudden and inexplicable flight makes no sense. Though I have no great love for the man, even I must admit that the Exile has acquitted himself well since his arrival here. He has won the respect, perhaps even the support, of many and enjoyed the company of his former kin. Why then, in the midst of his own investigations against my clan and the Haman, should he suddenly commit so gross an act of disloyalty?" He paused, then added, "Why, indeed, unless he or the Skalans have something to hide?"

"What are you implying?" demanded Adzriel.

Ulan spread his hands. "I merely speculate. Perhaps Seregil knows of something that takes precedence over the outcome of his current mission here."

For an instant, Thero forgot to breathe. Had Ulan's Plenimaran spies found out so soon of Korathan's ill-timed attack, or had Nyal somehow managed to betray them in this, as well? Rising, he said, "I can assure you, Khirnari, nothing is more important to Seregil or any of us than the success of our labors here." Even in his own ears, this scrap of truth sounded far less convincing than any lie he'd told so far.

"I do not mean to impugn Thero i Procepios's honor when I point out that we have only his word for that," Ulan said smoothly. "Nor when I also point out that it was Seregil himself, a proven traitor and murderer, who possesses the greatest knowledge of the device he claims was used to poison Klia. It was he himself who so easily and

fortuitously found the ring in my house, thereby discrediting Skala's staunchest opponent."

"Are you suggesting that he poisoned Klia?" asked Brythir.

"I suggest nothing, yet she is not dead, is she? Perhaps a man who knows so much about poisons would also know how to administer them so as to not quite kill, thereby creating the semblance of a botched murder attempt?"

"That's ridiculous!" Thero retorted, but his protest was drowned out by the renewed burst of exclamations from all sides. People were out of their seats, shouting and arguing, crowding out onto the chamber floor. Even Brythir i Nien could not make himself heard over the din.

Thero shook his head, marveling at the ease with which the Viresse khirnari could manipulate an audience. Still, there was more than one way to get people's attention. Climbing up on his chair, he clapped his palms together over his head, forgetting, in his haste, to make allowances for the strange energy of the city.

Daylight failed for an instant, then a deafening clap of thunder rocked the chamber, rumbling around the room for the space of several heartbeats.

The result was nearly comical. People clutched at each other, clapped hands over their ears, or fell dumbstruck back into their seats. Ears ringing, Thero groped for the chair's back to keep his balance.

"Whatever Seregil has done, for whatever reasons, the matter of teth'sag lies between him and the Haman," he declared. "The greater wrong remains that done to Princess Klia, who lies insensible at the heart of a city she believed held no violence. Hunt him down if you must, but do not let the actions of one man destroy all we have worked toward during these long weeks! By all the sacred names of the Lightbearer, Klia has acted with nothing but honor, and been rewarded with injury, yet she demands no vengeance. I pray you remember that when the vote is cast—"

"How can you speak of a vote?" Lhaar a Iriel demanded, gathering herself up from the floor and shaking off anyone who tried to assist her. "You see what comes of oaths made by the Tir. Cast them out and be done with it!"

"The vote will go forward," Brythir declared. "In the meantime, let the Exile be found and returned to face judgment."

Adzriel took the floor. "My fellow khirnari, Klia has labored long and honorably among us, as did Lord Torsin. They have been

wronged; to cast the vote while she is unable to speak for herself would wrong her further. Until she recovers and the confusion that enfolds us has been lifted, I call upon the Iia'sidra to show mercy and postpone their decision. A few more days or weeks, what is that to us compared to what it may mean for Skala?"

"Let the Exile be brought back!" Elos of Golinil called out, casting a dark look Thero's way. "I say we postpone the vote until he has answered for his actions. Only then will any doubts regarding Skala's true intentions be resolved."

"You speak wisely, Khirnari, as does Nazien i Hari," said Nyal, speaking up again. "I know the Exile and his companions better than any of you and would not see them brought to harm. They're most likely on their way north to Gedre, or west to Bokthersa. You all know that I'm accounted a skilled tracker, and I know that country well. With the Iia'sidra's consent, I will lead a search party."

An angry outcry went up from the Bokthersans, but Brythir stilled them with one upraised hand. "I accept your offer, Nyal i Nhekai, assuming Nazien i Hari has no objections."

"He may do as he likes," the Haman retorted. "I sent searchers west and north as soon as I learned of Seregil's escape."

Bowing, Nyal left the floor without looking in Thero's direction, and the wizard's fingers itched for magic to strike the man down.

Glaring at the Ra'basi's back, Thero vowed silently, I'll give you teth sag. If any harm comes to my friends through you, no law or magic will be enough to protect you!

The Skalan guest house had become a fortress in Thero's absence. Armed guards stood at every door, and others paced the roof. Hurrying inside, he managed to make it to a chair near the door before his legs gave out. The sergeants and a handful of Urgazhi were waiting for him in the hall, together with several of the servants.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked the Bokthersans.

Kheeta's mother shrugged. "Klia is still Adzriel's kin, and her guest. We do not desert our guests."

The wizard gave her a grateful nod, then quickly sketched out the debacle he'd just witnessed.

"Nyal's gone against us?" asked Corporal Nikides, stunned. "How can he do that to the captain? I'd have sworn—"

"What, that he loved her?" Sergeant Braknil let out a snort. "It's

the oldest trick in the book, damn him! And he was good at it, too. He fooled me, and I've been out of the barn a time or two."

"He fooled us all," Thero admitted sadly. "I just hope Seregil and the others have had enough of a start to get through."

Gathering what strength he had left, he climbed the stairs to Klia's chamber.

41

Revelations in the Rain

A gentle drizzle dogged Alec and Seregil through the day, growing heavier and mixing with brief spates of sleet as afternoon slowly wore toward evening. "This is a useless sort of rain," Seregil griped, shivering as he pulled his damp cloak around him. "It's not coming down hard enough to wash away our tracks."

"It's easier to stay warm in a snowstorm than in this," Alec agreed, chilled himself. His cloak and tunic had already soaked through at the shoulders and across the tops of his thighs. Now he could feel the wetness spreading. Waterlogged clothing wicked heat away from the body; even this late in the spring a man could take a killing chill from it. To make matters worse, the route Seregil had chosen ascended into the mountains sooner than the main road. The peaks in the distance ahead showed patches of white where snowfields still blanketed the summits. The dull outline of the sun, just visible through the mist, was sinking steadily in the west, stealing back the scant warmth of the day.

"We're going to have to stop soon," he said, chafing his arms with his hands. "Somewhere we can make a fire."

"We can't risk it yet," Seregil replied, scanning the road ahead.

"Dying of the chills will slow us down worse than getting captured, don't you think?"

Seregil urged his horse up a steep stretch of trail. They were still in the trees, but a wind was rising, adding to their discomfort. When the ground leveled out enough for them to ride abreast again, he turned to Alec, who knew at once by his slight frown and distant expression that he hadn't been thinking of rain or shelter.

"Even if Emiel is out to supplant Nazien, killing Klia would almost certainly work against him, don't you think? Emiel's a violent bastard, and no mistake, still—" He broke off, rubbing ruefully at the latest bruise on his jaw. "It's just a gut feeling, but after talking with him in the barracks that night, I can't imagine him risking the loss of honor."

"After all he did to you?" Alec growled. "I still say he's the most likely one. What about Ulan i Sathil?"

"Do you really think that man would make such a silly botch of the whole business? Would a man who knows how to foment civil war in another country have hidden the ring in his own courtyard like some common blackmailer keeping his dirty little collection of letters under his mattress?

"No, he's too smart for that. If he had done it, we'd never have found him out. Besides, why would he do such a thing if Torsin was attempting some compromise in Viresse's favor. Which leaves us looking elsewhere. You recall what I said about the 'faie?"

Alec grinned. "That they're no good at murder because they don't do enough of it to keep in practice?"

"Ask the right questions," Seregil murmured, wandering off into his own thoughts again. "We're approaching this as if we're tracking some practiced assassin—it's what we're used to." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Amateurs! They're the worst."

"The Ra'basi have been cagey about which side of the fence they're on," Alec said, though he was more reluctant than ever to suspect Nyal after all his help with Klia. "The poison is one they're familiar with, and they had a man inside our house. And what about the Khatme? If I were going to pick anyone out for sheer malice, Lhaar and her lot would be it. It's clear they don't regard Tirfaie as equals. Perhaps they wouldn't count killing one or two as any great crime."

"An interesting thought," said Seregil. "And their religious zeal seems to have grown in my absence. I've seen that wreak more havoc than magic when it comes to war." Still, he didn't sound convinced.

They spent the night in a ruined hut, huddled miserably together under damp blankets as they ate a cold supper of dried venison, cheese, and rainwater. A wind came up soon after sunset, finding its way through every hole and chink of their paltry shelter, stirring the soaked clothing that lined the hut's one sound wall.

Pressed shoulder to shoulder with Alec, Seregil rested his head on his knees and tried to ignore the fits of shivering that shook him, and the way the slightest movement sucked cold air in around the edges of the blankets. He wasn't dangerously cold, just miserably uncomfortable.

As usual, Alec warmed faster. "Come here," he said presently, pulling Seregil to sit between his legs, back to Alec's chest. He rearranged the blankets into a better cocoon around them and wrapped his arms around him. "Better?"

"A bit." Seregil jammed his hands under his armpits to warm them.

Alec chuckled next to his ear. "I don't think you'd have survived where I grew up."

Seregil snorted softly. "I could say the same about you. I had some lean times and harsh lessons, wandering around Skala."

"The Rhiminee Cat."

"I was a lot of things before that. Ever wonder why I was so generous to whores, back when you first met me?"

"Not until just now." Alec's voice carried a note of weary resignation.

Seregil stared out a hole in the roof, watching the dark shapes of branches tossing in the wind. "Being back there, in Sarikali—it's like—I don't know, like being there clouded my mind. Considering the shambles we've left behind, I'm not sure how useful I've been to Idrilain, or to Klia." He took a deep breath, fighting down a surge of guilt. "We should have been able to learn more, do more."

Alec's arms tightened around him. "We would have, but Phoria cocked it up for us. And you're right about us being the only ones who could get to the coast. You're probably right about Emiel."

"Maybe, but I feel as if I've been sleepwalking since we arrived."

"I believe I pointed that out to you, not so long ago," Alec noted wryly. "It wasn't just you, though. Aurenen's a damn hard place for nightrunner. Too much honor."

Seregil chuckled. "Whatever happened to that honest Dalnan lad I took up with?"

"Long gone, and good riddance." Alec shifted his legs to a more comfortable angle."Do you really think Korathan will listen to you?"

"Would I be here if I didn't?"

"That's no answer."

"I'll have to make him listen."

They fell silent, and presently Alec's even breathing told Seregil that he'd fallen asleep. He shifted against Alec's shoulder, mind still racing.

Perhaps he had needed to get clear of Sarikali's powerful aura. The rhui'auros's convoluted words, his own strange dreams, his pathetic efforts to prove himself worthy—where had it all gotten him, except deeper into confusion? He was sick to death of the whole business and longed for the dangerous, straightforward life he'd left behind in Skala. Something Adzriel had said to him, when they'd seen each other so briefly in Rhiminee just before the war, came back to him. Could you ever be content to sit under the lime trees at home, telling tales to the children, or debating with the elders of the council whether the lintel of the temple should be painted white or silver?

His new sword lay close at hand, and he reached out, running his fingers over the hilt, thinking of how he'd felt, grasping it for the first time. Whatever the rhui'auros or Nysander or his family or even Alec thought, he was good at one thing, and one thing only— being a nightrunner. Courtier, wizard's apprentice, diplomat, honorable clan member, son—failed efforts, all.

Sitting here, with a sword at his side, Alec at his back, a dangerous journey ahead, and who knew how many of his former countrymen seeking his blood, he felt at peace for the first time in months.

"So be it," he murmured, drifting off at last.

The dream had altered again. He was in his old room, but this time it was cold and dingy, full of dust. The shelves were empty, the hangings tattered, the plastered walls peeling and streaked with grime. A few toys and his mother's painted screen lay broken on the floor. This was worse, he thought, overwhelmed with a grief that outweighed any fear. Weeping, he fell to his knees beside the sagging bed, waiting for the flames to come. Instead, the silence and chill increased around him as the light began to fail. Somehow, he knew the rest of the house would be just as empty and didn't have the heart to investigate. He sobbed on, so cold that his teeth chattered. Exhausted at last, he wiped his nose on the hem of the rotting comforter and heard the familiar clink of glass.

The glass orbs, he thought with a flash of rage that outmatched his earlier grief. Springing up, he raised his arm to sweep them off the bed, then stopped, stunned to see them arranged in an intricate circular pattern, like a sunburst. Some were black; others glowed like jewels. The whole pattern was several feet across, and at its center a sword had been driven to the hilt into the mattress. He hesitated, fearful of disturbing the design, then pulled the blade free and watched in awe as it began to shift form. One moment it was the sword he'd sacrificed the day he'd slain Nysander, the next it had a pommel like a dark new moon. But others followed, other swords, and strange steel tubes with bent handles of bone or wood, each one streaked with blood. It ran down onto his hand in an ever increasing flow, staining the lines of his palm, dripping onto the bed.

Looking down, he saw that the orbs were gone; in their place lay a square black banner stitched with the same intricate design. The blood droplets still falling from his hand clung to the material and turned to ruby beads where they fell.

"It is not complete, son of Korit," a voice whispered, and suddenly he was engulfed in searing pain and darkness—

Alec woke with a strangled curse when something hit him hard in the face. Momentarily blinded by the pain, he struggled frantically against the weight pressing down on his chest and legs. It disappeared, replaced by a blast of cold air against his sweaty skin. The bright, hot taste of blood at the back of his mouth made him gag. Touching his nose gingerly, he felt wetness. "What the hell—?"

"Sorry, tali."

It was still too dark to see Seregil, but Alec heard scuffling in the darkness, then felt a tentative touch on his arm.

He spat in the opposite direction, trying to get the blood out of his mouth. "What happened?"

"Sorry," said Seregil again. Alec heard more fumbling, then blinked at the sudden brightness of a lightstone. Seregil held it in one hand and was rubbing the back of his head with the other. "Looks like my nightmare woke us both up."

"You can keep yourself warm next time," Alec growled, trying with limited success to pull the remaining blanket around him.

Seregil picked up the other and used a corner of it to staunch

Alec's nosebleed. His hands were shaking badly, though, and Alec pulled back to avoid further damage. "How long were we asleep?"

"Long enough. Let's move on," Seregil replied, widened eyes betraying some of the confusion Alec could feel radiating from him.

They dressed in silence, shivering at the unpleasant feel of damp wool and leather. Outside, the wind was still blowing, but Alec felt a change in the weather. Emerging from the hut, he saw stars showing through long rents in the scudding clouds. "Only an hour or two before dawn, I think."

"Good." Seregil mounted and looped the lead rein of his spare horse around the saddle horn. "We should reach the first guarded pass about then."

"Guarded?"

"Magicked," Seregil amended, sounding more himself now. "I could get through it in the dark, but I wouldn't want you doing it blindfolded. It's a bit tricky in places."

"There's something for me to look forward to," Alec grumbled, dabbing at his nose with his sleeve. "That, and a cold breakfast on horseback."

Seregil raised an eyebrow at him. "Now you're starting to sound like me! Next thing you know, you'll be wanting a hot bath."

Nyal had made a show of checking the Skalan's stables and searching out hoofprints, though he already had a fair idea of where Seregil and the others were headed. He'd shadowed them long enough to see them change horses at the way station and continue up the main road. Later, at the Iia'sidra, he'd overheard the Akhendi khirnari warn Nazien i Hari of a certain pass Seregil was likely to head for, one Nyal knew well for reasons of his own.

He took twelve riders with him for the chase, young bloods from some of the more neutral clans, including several of his own kin. He'd chosen carefully, wanting only youngsters who could be counted on to do as they were told.

Reaching the way station again before nightfall, he questioned the lad who watched the horses and learned that a certain signal had not been given by the last trio of dispatch riders, a fact that had raised suspicion almost before they'd ridden out of sight. That, and the fact that the Skalan rider had apparently understood more Aurenfaie than she let on.

The trail from here was not difficult to follow; the mare Beka had taken had a notch in her left rear hoof. Some miles on, though, Nyal

was surprised to see that they'd fallen in with several other riders. Seregil and Alec must be more brazen than he'd guessed, passing themselves off as Akhendi here. They were certainly taking no pains to cover their tracks, keeping to the main road instead of splitting up and losing themselves in the network of side roads that branched off from it. There were streams they could have ridden up to cover their trail, byways that doubled back on themselves. Then again, Seregil had no way of knowing most of these routes.

"Perhaps these other horsemen are conspirators?" said one of the Silmai with him as they paused at a roadside spring where the fugitives had dismounted to drink.

"If so, then they aren't being much help," Nyal said, studying the footprints in the soft earth at the spring's edge: two sets of Aurenfaie boots, one Skalan. The others had remained mounted.

"They can't know the area, or they'd have shown him ways of getting away from the main road and putting us off the scent," a Ra'basi kinsman named Woril noted.

"Not yet," Nyal murmured, wondering again what Seregil could be up to. It wasn't until the following day, when he finally found where the two groups of riders had parted, that he began to understand.

42

Misdirection

Beka rode steadily through the night, avoiding the few Akhendi villagers she encountered along the way. She made no effort to cover her trail, counting on misdirection to protect her friends.

The rain continued, a cold, inexorable mist that seemed to seep right down to her bones. As the mountains loomed closer ahead, she finally gave up the ruse and turned aside onto a side road that twisted away to the east through the forest. By late the next day she was exhausted and utterly lost.

Ambling along, she spotted a game trail leading up a slope and followed it, hoping to find some shelter for the night. Just before dark, she found a dry patch of earth beneath a fallen fir tree and made camp there. Lightning had struck the tree sometime recently, shattering the trunk but not severing it, so that the thick top hung to the ground at an angle, creating a sheltered den among the lower boughs. After dragging in her pack, she dug a pit with her knife and built a little fire to stave off the chill.

Just for a few hours, she told herself, huddling close to the flames. The heat quickly baked the damp from her tunic and breeches. Wrapping herself in her blanket, she leaned against the rough bark behind her. A thin waxing moon showed itself between torn shreds of

clouds, a reminder that in just two days the Iia'sidra would decide the success or failure of all their work here.

"By the Four," she whispered. "Just let us get Klia home alive and I'll be satisfied."

As she drifted off to sleep, however, it was Nyal who filled her thoughts, tingeing her dreams with an uneasy mix of longing and doubt.

The grip of a strong hand on her shoulder startled Beka awake at dawn. There was just light enough to make out Nyal kneeling beside her, face inches from her own.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped, wondering if she was still dreaming.

"I'm sorry, talia," he murmured, and Beka's heart sank as she saw the armed men behind him.

She pulled back, berating herself bitterly for being so easily caught.

"Beka, please—" Nyal tried again, but she shoved him away and scrambled to her feet. How had they gotten so close without her hearing them?

. "Their horses are here, but there's no sign of them," a Ra'basi told Nyal.

"You son of a bitch!" Beka snarled, rocked to the core as realization sank in. "You led them here!"

"Where are they, Beka?" he asked.

She searched his eyes for some sign of hope but found none. Leaning closer, as if to confide in him, she spat in his face. "Garshil ke'menios!"

Nyal's mouth set in an angry line as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve. "There are others out looking for them, Captain, Haman among them."

Beka turned her back on him, saying nothing.

"We'll get nothing out of her," Nyal told the others. "Korious, you and your men get her back to the city. Akara, you wait until it's light enough, then scour the surrounding area for signs of them. I'll backtrack, then catch up with you."

"Very efficient, Ra'basi," Beka muttered as they stripped her of weapons and tied her hands.

"I assure you, Captain, you'll be treated with respect by these men," Nyal assured her. "As for your friends, it would be better for everyone concerned if I'm the one to find them. They're both in danger: Seregil and your almost-brother."

Beka sneered at him, not allowing him to play on her fears. "Go to hell, traitor."

The mountain road grew worse as Seregil and Alec went on. Bare stone peaks loomed ever closer, stark against the cloudy sky.

They reached the second village just before noon and found it as deserted as the first. No people meant no fresh horses, and Seregil's mare was limping badly.

Dismounting in the overgrown square, he ran a hand over the back leg she was favoring and found an angry swelling at the hock.

"Shit!" he hissed, gentling her as she shied. "She's bog spavined."

"The gelding is still sound," Alec told him, inspecting Seregil's other horse. One of Alec's horses, a bay mare, was cow hocked and probably wouldn't cover much rough country without coming up lame sooner or later, too.

Seregil shifted his saddle onto the gelding, then pointed up toward a distant notch between two crags. "We should hit the trail I want a few miles further on, inside the magicked area. You can't see it yet from here, but our pass is right up there. There's a Dravnian tower near the top. If these nags hold out, we might just make it. I don't want to be sleeping in the open tonight. There are wolves up there, and bandits."

"And smugglers?"

"If so, I hope they're smuggling horses. I suspect the war's put an end to that, though. Not much point in hauling goods to the coast if there aren't any Skalan night ships waiting for them."

"Too bad. I was hoping to meet that uncle of yours I keep hearing about. What are you going to do about that lame horse?"

In answer, Seregil smacked her hard on the rump and watched as she trotted awkwardly out of sight between the deserted houses. "Come on. Let's see how far we get before we lose that bay of yours."

A mile or so past the village Seregil spotted a carved post half hidden by twining creeper and brush. "This is where you get blindfolded, my friend."

Alec took out a strip of cloth and tied it over his eyes. "There, I'm in your hands, Guide."

"Not in quite the fashion I like," Seregil smirked, taking Alec's reins and setting off again.

Alec leaned forward and braced himself against the stirrups as the ground grew steadily steeper. He knew by the smells around him that they were still in the woods, but the echoes of the horse's hooves spoke of a narrow gap. From time to time he heard the rattle of loose stone, and for one heart-stopping moment his horse stumbled, scrabbling wildly for purchase. He clawed at the blindfold, terrified of being thrown off or crushed under a fallen horse.

"It's all right." Seregil's hand locked around his Wrist, drawing his hand away.

"Damn it, Seregil, how much longer?" Alec gasped.

"Another mile or so. It levels out soon, I think."

The riding did get easier, but presently Alec noticed that he was hearing echoes only on their left. A cold wind sighed steadily against his right cheek. "Are we by a cliff?" he asked, tensing again.

"Not too near," Seregil assured him.

"Then why aren't you talking?"

"I'm looking for the cutoff to the pass. Keep quiet and let me concentrate."

After another small eternity he heard Seregil let out a pent-up breath. "I found our trail. It won't be long now, I promise."

The air grew cooler around them, and Alec smelled the spicy resin of pines and cedar. "Can I take this blindfold off?" he asked, as his earlier fears gave way to outright boredom. "I'd like to see what it looks like, with the magic."

"It will make you sick," Seregil warned. "Just hang on a bit longer. We're nearly—oh, Illior! Alec, get your head down!"

Before Alec could obey, his horse wheeled sharply and he heard a sharp buzz close to his ear. Then something struck him hard in the chest and thigh, knocking the breath from his body in a startled grunt. Seregil yelled something and Alec's horse reared. Then he was falling, falling—

The moment Seregil spotted the ambushers, he knew it was already too late.

Rounding a bend between two large outcroppings, he and Alec had come out into a narrow stretch of trail cut into a steep, sparsely wooded slope that slanted down to a riverbed several hundred feet below. Just ahead, the narrow cut up the mountainside that lead to the pass was gone, obliterated by a massive rock slide. The archers had taken positions up among the rocks, where they had a clear view of the killing floor below. Unable to go right or left, Seregil

could only retreat the way he'd come and hope to get around the bend before they both got an arrow in the back. But as he wheeled his mount, dragging Alec's around by the head rein, he saw more men standing on the stones he'd just passed. The trap was sprung.

"Get your head down!" he shouted again, but it was too late for that, too.

Alec's bay reared, screaming, with an arrow protruding from its chest. Still blindfolded, Alec was thrown off, falling toward the downhill slope. Seregil just had time to register the shafts embedded in his friend's shoulder and leg before Alec disappeared from view.

"Alec!" Seregil threw himself off his horse to follow but four more ambushers leaped from the scant brush just above him and wrestled him to the ground. He fought wildly, desperate to escape, to find Alec and get him away—

If he were still alive

—but he was overmatched. His captors pinned him on his belly, grinding his face into the dirt, then flipped him onto his back. Someone grasped him roughly by the hair and yanked his head back. A grey-haired man leaned over him, dagger in hand, and Seregil closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable slash across his throat.

Instead, the man sliced open the front of Seregil's tunic, the tip of the knife scraping across the steel rings of the mail shirt beneath. Reaching in, he yanked the chain free and held up the Corruth's ring. A younger man leaned into view, but before Seregil could get a proper look at him, the side of his head exploded in pain and the world went black.

Fear blotted out all else as Alec hit the ground and continued falling, tumbling head over heels. He'd always had a horror of falling, and doing it blind drove him into a panic. He fetched up at last against something that crushed the air from his lungs. Only then, as he lay sprawled on his side, bruised all over and gasping for air, was he able to give proper attention to the fiery pain lancing through his left thigh and right shoulder, and to a stabbing sensation just under his ribs. This last proved to be the hilt of his sword, caught underneath him at an awkward angle.

Thank the Four for that, at least, he thought, shifting the weapon a little so he could breathe.

Somewhere above he heard the sounds of men calling back and forth to one another, apparently looking for him.

Magic or no magic, he couldn't stand waiting like some blind, wounded animal. Tearing off the hated blindfold, he blinked at the sudden brightness and saw—ferns.

He could see perfectly well, after all, though the slight prickle of magic across his skin told him he was not clear of the guarded zone yet.

Shouts from up the slope warned that there was no time to ponder the matter further. Raising his head a little, he found himself lying in a dense patch of tall, feathery fern at the base of an ancient birch tree. From here, he could make out the trail several hundred yards above him and a few men moving about there. Outlaws, he guessed, seeing that they wore no sen'gai. As he'd feared, a few others were making their way down in his general direction.

His right shoulder throbbed again as he ducked down. Freshly scarred chain showed through a rent in the arm of his tunic where an arrow had scored a glancing blow.

The wound in his leg was more serious. A shaft had pierced his thigh and lodged there. Sometime during his fall the feathered end had snapped off, but the steel head still protruded a scant few inches below his lower trouser lacing. Not giving himself time to think, he grasped the shaft just below the head and yanked it out.

Then he fainted.

When he came to, someone was dragging him over rough ground by his bad shoulder. The pain in his leg had risen to exquisite intensity and he greyed out again. When his mind cleared, he was lying mercifully still, cradled in strong arms against a hard chest.

"Seregil, I thought—" But the eyes close above his were hazel green, not grey.

"Stay quiet," Nyal ordered, peering up over the edge of the gully where they lay. He was bareheaded and wore dull-colored clothing that blended in with the evening shadows lengthening across the forest floor.

Footsteps crunched over dead leaves nearby, then faded away in the opposite direction.

After a moment Nyal crouched down beside him and checked the wound on Alec's leg. "It's clean, but it needs binding. Stay here and keep your eyes shut if you can."

"I can see," Alec told him.

The Ra'basi blinked in surprise, but there was no time for

explanations. Bent low, he hurried off down the gully, vanishing quickly in the shadowy underbrush.

The ambushers seemed to have given up on finding him for the moment. Looking up the slope, Alec saw no sign of movement. A few moments later Nyal was back with his bow and a large wayfarer's pouch.

"It's not bleeding too badly," he muttered, pulling out a flask and a plain sen'gai. "Here, have a pull on this," he ordered, handing Alec the flask.

The strong spirit burned Alec's throat, and he took a second gulp, then craned his neck, nervously keeping watch while Nyal bound hasty compresses over the arrow holes.

"There, that should hold you for now." Nyal clapped him on the shoulder. "Now, let's see if you can walk on it. Seregil needs us." Standing, he extended his hand.

Alec grasped it and pulled himself up. His leg still hurt like hell, but the drink, together with the pressure of the bandage, made it just bearable. "Who tracked us, besides you?"

"No one but me," the Ra'basi replied, supporting Alec with a hand under his arm. "No other tracks cross yours. They were waiting for you. I'm only sorry I didn't catch up with you sooner. They were probably trying to kill your horse when your leg got in the way."

"And this?" Alec said doubtfully, showing him the tear in his tunic.

"Not everyone is as good a shot as you, my friend."

Alec was sweating with pain by the time they reached the ground just below the level of the trail. Lying on their bellies, they peered up over the edge and found it deserted.

"Stay here," Nyal whispered. Keeping low, he darted up over the edge of the bank, heading for Alec's dead horse. A man sprang from a low clump of brush and rushed at the Ra'basi.

"Look out!" Alec called.

Nyal whirled and threw himself sideways, rolling clear. The other man dove at him again, only to catch a sharp blow to the face that felled him like an ox. He went down without a sound.

Nyal tied and gagged the man, then coolly returned to his task, pulling Alec's bow and quiver free of the saddle. The bowstring had snapped in the fall and swung uselessly from one tip as Nyal scrambled back down to where he waited.

"I hope you have an extra," he said, thrusting the Radly into Alec's hands. "Mine won't fit this."

Alec took a fresh string from his belt pouch and stood to bend the bow. Bracing one limb tip against his foot, he pushed down on the upper one and let out a grunt as pain flared in his shoulder again. Nyal took the bow and fitted the string into place.

"Can you draw?"

Alec flexed his arm again. "I think so." '

"And you can see?" Nyal said, shaking his head in amazement.

"It's something to do with the Bash'wai, I think," Alec offered, thinking of the strange farewell they'd given him.

"They certainly must have taken a liking to you. Come on. Let's find Seregil."

Dusk was coming on quickly now, and they spotted the yellow gleam of firelight high above the slide area choking the pass. Skirting the ruined trail, Nyal led him up a winding track that brought them out on a shelf of rock overlooking the top of a cliff. Eight men stood on a level stretch of ground near the edge. Several held torches, giving Alec enough light to shoot by. Behind them Seregil slumped on his knees and elbows, hands bound in front of him. His head was down, hair in his face. A man stood over him with his own sword while the others argued among themselves.

"It's not right!" one man said angrily.

"It's not your place to question," a younger man retorted, speaking with the authority of a leader. "There's no dishonor in it."

So even Aurenfaie bandits, fretted over atui? Alec eased an arrow from his quiver and set it to the string. Beside him, Nyal did the same. Just then, several of the men threw up their arms and walked a few paces off. Seregil fought weakly as two others grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him toward the cliff, clearly meaning to throw him over.

Alec brought his bow up and let fly, praying the shaft didn't find Seregil instead. He needn't have worried. His aim was off and it struck the ground harmlessly just in front of Seregil's would-be killers. Startled, they jumped back and Seregil twisted free, scrambling back from the edge. Most of the ambushers scattered, ducking for cover. Nyal hit two of them before they'd gotten ten feet. The leader grabbed for Seregil and Alec shot again, this time hitting his mark square in the chest. Seregil saw his chance and dashed away into the shadows.

Alec managed to take down one more man before the rest disappeared.

"This way." Nyal led him down another rock-strewn track, supporting him when Alec's bad leg gave out. The sound of horses came to them on the quiet night air as they reached the cliff, echoing up from the direction of the main trail.

"Damn, they got away!"

"How many?" wondered Nyal.

"Enough to be trouble if we don't get out of here fast," said a familiar voice overhead. ., <

Alec looked up to find Seregil half hidden behind a boulder. He emerged and slid down the loose slope to join them, hands still tied but clutched now around the hilt of his sword.

"I take it that you can see?" he asked, giving Alec a thoughtful look.

Alec shrugged.

"How many were there?" Nyal asked.

"I didn't have a chance to take a count before they knocked me out," Seregil replied, leading them back to where the dead lay. There were five bodies.

"Just our luck, running into bandits," Alec muttered.

Seregil rubbed at a new bruise developing over his right cheekbone. "They did have the good grace to debate about killing me. Some of them didn't like the idea. They thought they'd killed you, though, Alec, and so did I, for that matter. When I saw you go off your horse like that—" Extending a hand to Nyal, he said almost grudgingly, "I guess I should be glad to see you. It seems we owe you our lives."

Nyal clasped hands with him. "Perhaps you'll repay me by speaking to Beka on my behalf. I imagine she's still cursing my name."

"So you found her, too?" Alec groaned, feeling a fool to be so easily tracked after all their planning. "Where is she?"

"Not as far away as she thought. We caught up with her at dawn this morning, less than ten miles from here."

"We? " Seregil's eyes narrowed.

"The Iia'sidra sent me with a search party," Nyal replied. "I volunteered, actually. When it became clear that others suspected where you might go, I thought it would be better if I found you first. Tracking her, I saw where you parted ways and guessed that you might make for this smuggler's pass, not knowing it was blocked. I made certain that my compatriots were occupied with her, then came looking for you."

"Our little ruse didn't fool you?"

Nyal grinned, "Fortunately for you, my companions don't have quite the eye for tracking that I do. An unladen horse walks a bit differently than one carrying a man. You won't get through this way, you know."

"So I see," Seregil said, shaking his head. "I should have guessed about the pass. I just assumed the villages had died for lack of trade."

He bent over one of the bodies and pulled his poniard free from the dead man's chest. "I've managed to keep my promise, Adzriel," he muttered, wiping the blade clean on the dead man's tunic and slipping it back into his boot. Bending over another, he emptied the man's purse onto the ground.

"Ah, here it is!" he exclaimed, holding up Corruth's ring. "The chain's gone. Oh, well, what wisdom forbids, necessity dictates." He slipped it onto his finger and went on with his task.

Leaving the bodies for the crows, they made a circuit around the area and found three horses tethered in a stand of trees up the slope from the trail, still saddled.

"You take these," said Nyal. "Mine is hidden down near where I found you, Alec. There's another trail a mile or so back down the trail that will take you over to the coast. I'll set you on it, then head back to report that I found no sign of you. I don't suppose that will win me any favor with Beka, but it's a start."

Seregil laid a hand on his arm. "You haven't asked why we're out here."

The Ra'basi gave him an unreadable look. "If you wanted me to know, you'd have told me. I trust enough in your honor, and in Beka's, to know that you must have good reason for risking your life like this."

"Then you really don't know?" asked Alec.

"Even my ears aren't that long."

"Can you trust the men who have Beka?" Alec asked, anxious for Nyal to be off.

"Yes. They'll keep her safe. Hurry now! There are others hunting you."

"You're really letting us go?" Seregil asked again, unable to believe it.

The Ra'basi smiled. "I told you, I never intended to capture you. I came to protect Beka if I could, and for her sake I help you now."

"What about atui? Where's your loyalty to your clan, to the Iia'sidra?"

Nyal shrugged, his smile now tinged with sadness. "Those of us

who travel far from our fai'thasts see the world differently than those who don't, wouldn't you say?"

Seregil gave the man a last, searching look, then nodded. "Show us this trail of yours, Nyal."

The night was clear and cold, with enough of a moon to travel easily by as they rode back the way they'd come. ,«

Seregil knew of no other trails in the area, but presently Nyal reined in and led them on foot through a seemingly untouched stretch of woods to a little pond. Just past a jumbled pile of rocks on its far bank, they struck a trail that disappeared up the hillside.

"Be careful," Nyal advised. "It's a good route, well marked once you've followed it for a few miles, but treacherous in places, and home to wolves and dragons. Aura watch over you both."

"And you," Seregil returned. "I hope we meet again, Ra'basi, and under happier circumstances."

"As do I." Nyal pulled a flask from his pouch and handed it to Alec. "You'll be needing this, I think. It's been an honor to know you, Alec i Amasa of the Hazadrielfaie. I'll do all I can to keep your almost-sister safe, whether she wants me to or not."

With that, he melted away into the shadows. Soon they heard the beat of his horse's hooves fading rapidly away down the road.

The trail was as bad as Nyal had warned. Steep and uneven, it wound through gullies and across streams. There was no place to go if they were ambushed here.

It made for hard riding, and though Alec made no complaint,

Seregil saw him take several quick swigs from the flask Nyal had

· given him. He was about to suggest stopping for the night when

Alec's horse suddenly lost her footing and stumbled down a rocky

slope, nearly going down on top of her rider.

Alec managed to stay on, but Seregil heard his strangled cry of pain. "We'll make camp there," Seregil said, pointing to an overhang just ahead.

Tethering their mounts on a loose rein in case of wolves, they crawled in under the overhang and spread their stolen blankets.

It was a cold vigil, watching the moon arc slowly to the west. They could hear the hunting cries of wolves in the distance, together with occasional sounds nearer by.

Tired as he was, Seregil couldn't sleep. Instead, he pondered the

ambush, wondering how a force of that size could have outflanked them in this country.

"Those weren't bandits, Alec," he muttered, fidgeting restlessly with his belt knife. "But how could anyone track us down fast enough to set up an ambush?"

"Nyal said they didn't track us," Alec replied drowsily.

"What?"

"That's what I thought, too, but he claims he didn't see any signs of anyone else chasing us. They were there already, waiting for us."

"Then someone sent word! Someone who knew exactly where we'd be, except that I'm the only one who knew which pass we were heading for. I didn't even tell you. Your lightstone, Alec. Do you have it?"

With the aid of the light, he stripped the saddlebags from their stolen mounts and emptied them into a pile. There were several packets of food, including fresh bread and cheese.

"Soft fare, for bandits, wouldn't you say?" he noted, carrying some up to Alec. Returning to the pile, he sorted through the oddments there: shirts, clean linen, ajar of fire chips, a few simples.

"What's that?" asked Alec, pointing to something among the tangle of clothes. Hobbling out of the shelter, he pulled a wad of cloth free and held it to the light. · "Bilairy's Balls!" gasped Seregil. It was an Akhendi sen'gai.

"It could be stolen," Alec said. Stirring through the clothes, he found no others.

Seregil went back to the horses and found a second one concealed under the arch of a saddle, just where he might have hidden such a thing.

"But they were going to kill you!" Alec gasped in disbelief. "Why would the Akhendi do that? And how did they find us?"

"By the Four!" Seregil tore a pouch from his belt and emptied it out beside the rest. There among the coins and trinkets lay Klia's Akhendi charm, still flecked with dried mud.

"I forgot I had this," he growled, clutching it. "I was going to take it back to Amali, then Magyana's letter came—"

"Damn. Someone could have used it to scry where we are."

Seregil nodded grimly. "But only if they knew I had it."

Alec took it and turned it over on his palm, holding it closer to the light. "Oh, no."

"What?"

"Oh, no no no!" Alec groaned. "This bracelet is the one Amali made for Klia, but the charm is different."

"How do you know that?" Seregil demanded.

"Because it's mine, the one that girl gave me in the first Akhendi village we stopped at. See this little crack in the wing?" He showed Seregil the fissure marring one wing. "That happened when I had the run-in with Emiel that turned it black. It's the same sort of carving as Klia's, though, and it was covered in mud when I found it. It never occurred to me to look more closely at it."

"Of course it didn't!" Seregil took it back. "The question is, how did it come to be white again for a while, and on Klia's bracelet? We saw Amali make this for her, and you still had yours then."

"Nyal must have given it to her," Alec told him, once more thrown into doubt about the Ra'basi.

"What was he doing with it?"

Alec told him of the day he'd met Emiel in the House of the Pillars and what had followed. "I got rid of it so you wouldn't find out. You were already upset enough and I didn't think Emiel was anyone who mattered. I was going to throw it away, but Nyal said it could be restored, and that he'd have an Akhendi see to it. I'd forgotten all about it."

Seregil scrubbed a hand over his face. "I can just guess which Akhendi! You've seen how these are made, and how the Akhendi can change one charm for another."

"The morning of the hunt, Amali and Rhaish came to see us off," Alec said, recalling that morning with jarring clarity. "I thought it was odd, since she'd been too ill to go out just the night before."

"Did he touch Klia?" Seregil asked. "Think, Alec. Did he get close enough to her to switch the charms somehow?"

"No," Alec replied slowly. "But she did."

"Amali?"

"Yes, she clasped hands with Klia. She was smiling."

Seregil shook his head. "But she wasn't at Viresse tupa that night."

"No, but Rhaish was."

Seregil clapped a hand to his forehead. "The rhui'auros said I already knew who the murderer is. That's because we saw it happen. You remember when Rhaish stumbled as he greeted Torsin? Torsin was dead a few hours later, and there was no charm on him. Someone had removed it. Rhaish must have seen the charm and known it could give him away. Knots and weaving, Alec. He must have taken the bracelet as soon as he'd poisoned him."

"And Klia helped Rhaish up when he stumbled," added Alec. "He left soon after, so it must have been then that he poisoned her." He

paused. "But wait Klia had on the same sort of charm. Why take Torsin's, and not hers?"

"I don't know. You're certain it was unchanged that morning?"

"Yes. I noticed it on her wrist at breakfast. So why change it for mine?"

"I don't know, but someone obviously changed it at some point, and they wouldn't have done so without reason." He stopped as realization struck.

"It could have been the husband and the wife together! 'Smiles conceal knives,' isn't that what we were told? Bilairy's Codpiece, I've been blinder than a mole in a midnight shit heap. Rhaish didn't expect the Iia'sidra to vote his way. He never did. And if he'd learned of Torsin's secret negotiations, and what that meant for Akhendi— he needs to discredit the Viresse, and what better way than to show Ulan i Sathil to be a guest murderer? I, of all people, should have seen through that one!" He clasped his head in both hands. "If I'm ever, ever this stupid again, will you please boot me in the ass?"

"I haven't been any better," Alec said. "So Ulan is innocent, and Emiel, too?"

"Of murder, at least."

"Damn it, Seregil, we've got to warn Klia and Thero! After your own family, the Akhendi are the ones they're most likely to trust!"

"If we don't stop Korathan, it won't make much difference. We have to find him first."

Alec stared at him in disbelief. "Beka's heading right back into it, and we still don't know whose side Nyal is really on. Anyone who knows she was with us may assume that she knows whatever we know."

Seregil stared at the Akhendi charm. "I suspect she's in less danger now than we are. They found us with this once. They can again. Yet it's the one real piece of evidence we have against the Akhendi, so we can't afford to destroy it or throw it away. We'll just have to go on as fast and as cautiously as we can. Once we've dealt with Korathan, we'll figure out what to do."

"You mean we just leave her?" Alec kicked angrily at a loose stone. "This is really what it means to be a Watcher, isn't it?"

"Sometimes." For the first time in a very long time, Seregil felt the gulf of age and experience that lay between them, deep as the Cirna Canal. He gripped Alec gently by the back of the neck, knowing there was nothing he could say that would ease his friend's pain or his own. It was only the long years he'd spent with Nysander and Micum that allowed him to fend off visions of Beka dead, captured, lost.

"Come on," he said at last, helping Alec back to their makeshift shelter. "Thero chose her with good reason. You know that. Now get some sleep if you can. I'll keep watch."

He draped their blankets around Alec, settling him as comfortably as he could against the rough stone. Alec said nothing, but Seregil again sensed an unspoken welter of emotion.

Leaving him to his grief, he went out to keep watch. Duty was a fine and noble thing, most days. It was only at times like this one, when you noticed how it wore away at the soul, like water over stone.

43

Dire Signs

Nyal rode all night and picked up the trail of Beka and the others just after dawn. They'd returned to the main road and pushed on at a gallop. Spurring his lathered mount, Nyal hurried on, hoping to catch up.

As he rode, he went over in his mind what he could say to Beka that would reassure her without giving away his own complicity in her friends' escape. At last he was forced to admit that, barring Seregil's own testimony on his behalf, there was little he could do for the moment except ensure her safe return to the city. Not that this should be such a difficult task. They were in Akhendi territory, after all.

Caught up in his thoughts, he galloped around a curve and was nearly thrown when his horse suddenly shied and reared. He clung on, yanking the gelding's head around and reining it to a standstill, then turned to see what had spooked it.

A young Gedre lay in the middle of the road, his face covered in drying blood. A chestnut mare grazed nearby.

"Aura's mercy! Terien," Nyal croaked, recognizing both man and horse. This was one of Beka's escorts.

Dismounting, he went to him and felt for a pulse. There was a nasty gash over the boy's

eye, but he was still breathing. His eyes fluttered open as Nyal examined the wound.

"What happened?" Nyal asked, pressing his water skin to the boy's lips.

Terien drank, then slowly sat up. "Ambush. Just after sun up. I heard someone yell, then I went down."

"Did you see anyone?"

"No, it all happened so quickly. I've never heard of bandits this far south on the main road."

"Neither have I." Nyal helped him onto his horse. "There's a village not too far from here. Can you get yourself there?"

Terien grasped his saddle horn and nodded.

"How was the Skalan when you last saw her?"

Terien let out a faint snort. "Sullen."

"Was she tied?"

"Hand and foot, so she wouldn't fall off if her horse bolted."

"Thank you. Find a healer, Terien."

Sending him on his way, Nyal strode into the trees and looked for signs of the ambushers. He found the prints of at least six men, and where they'd hobbled their horses.

Leading his horse, he walked on down the road, reading the marks of an ambush and chase in the trampled earth. Around another bend he found three more of his men. Two Gedre brothers were supporting his cousin, Korious, as they headed back in his direction. There was blood on the Ra'basi's arm.

"Where are the others?" he asked, heart hammering in his chest.

"An ambush, not an hour ago," Korious told him. "They came out of nowhere, with their faces covered. Teth'brimash, I think. They killed two of the Silmai, back down the road. We lost some others in the initial attack."

"What happened to Beka?"

Korious shook his head. "I don't know. She was with us until the second group jumped us here, then she was gone."

"And you haven't found her horse?"

"No."

"Terien's coming your way. Be sure he gets to a healer."

He found the marks of Beka's horse a little further on. It appeared she'd broken away in the confusion and burst past the ambushers, chased by two other riders.

The tracks turned up a disused sidetrack, and for a moment Nyal couldn't get his breath. He knew this road. It came to a dead

end in an abandoned stone quarry. He pictured her, bound and defenseless, clinging to her horse's mane as armed horsemen bore down on her. Her sword and daggers were still lashed behind his own saddle.

"Ah, talia, forgive me!" he whispered. Drawing his sword, he spurred his horse on, dreading what he would find.

44

Pushing On

Seregil heard the first telltale sounds of pursuit just before dawn. At first it was only the distant tinkle of dislodged stones that could have been nothing more than a large animal on an early hunt. Sound traveled in this rocky country, however, and he soon made out the occasional scrape of boots over stone, then the echo of voices. Judging by the amount of noise they were making, they were searching blind, not realizing how close they were to their quarry.

He couldn't see them yet but knew it would be impossible to get the horses away without being heard. With Alec wounded, fighting was not an attractive option, especially since he couldn't tell how many men there were. What he didn't hear were more horses.

Crawling over to Alec, Seregil gently covered his friend's mouth. Alec came awake silently.

"How's the leg?"

Alec flexed it and grimaced. "Stiff."

"Company's on the way. I'd rather run than fight, if you can ride."

"Just help me up into the saddle."

Grabbing the blankets and sen'gai, Seregil wrapped his free arm around Alec's waist and helped him down to the horses. He could feel the younger man wince with every step, but

Alec made no complaint. By the time Seregil had mounted his own horse, Alec had his bow and quiver slung ready over his shoulders.

By now they could both hear snatches of their pursuers' conversation.

"Go!" Seregil ordered.

Alec kicked his horse into a gallop and sprang away. Close behind, Seregil hazarded a backward look and made out a few dark shapes down the trail, men on foot.

They got away clean, but soon had to slow down again. As Nyal had warned, the trail skirted precipices and in places was just wide enough for a single horse to pass. Fresh blood was seeping through Alec's trouser leg, but there was no time to stop.

They left their pursuers behind but kept a sharp eye out for another ambush ahead. By the time they reached the summit, just before midday, both were tense and sweating. From here, the land fell away sharply, affording them a clear view of the patched and rumpled sweep of Gedre fai'thast and the pale expanse of sea beyond.

"I'd better have a look at that leg before we go on," Seregil said, dismounting. "Can you get down?"

Alec leaned heavily on his saddlebow, breathing raggedly. "If I do, I may not be able to get back on."

"Stay there, then." Seregil found the flask of painkiller in Alec's saddlebag. Pressing that and the last of the bread into his hands, Seregil set about cutting away the bandage Nyal had put on.

"You're lucky," he muttered, rinsing away the crusted blood. "It's just seeping. The wound seems to be closing up on its own."

He tore strips from his shirt and bound the leg up again.

"How much longer?" Alec asked, finishing off the bread as Seregil worked.

"By late afternoon, if we don't meet any more trouble along the way." Seregil scanned the distant coast, searching for a familiar bend in the shoreline and finding it. "That's where we're headed. This trail of Nyal's has brought us out closer than mine would have."

He squinted at the horizon, wondering if Korathan's vessels were faster than he'd guessed, or if the following wind blew stronger—

Alec shifted his leg in the stirrup, looking worried again. "I know Riagil is a friend of your family, and I like the man, but he's also the Akhendi's ally. What if he's looking for us, too?"

Seregil had been avoiding that thought all morning, remembering instead that first bittersweet night in Aurenen, when he'd stood with Riagil in the moon garden, sharing good memories of the past. "We'll keep out of sight as much as we can."

Thero glanced up from the scroll he'd been reading, then threw it aside and jumped to his feet. Klia's eyes were open.

"My lady, you're awake!" he exclaimed, bending anxiously over her. "Can you hear me?"

Klia stared dully at the ceiling, giving no sign that she understood.

O Illior, let this be a sign for the better and not the worse! he prayed, and sent a summoning to Mydri.

Coming down out of the mountains, Seregil and Alec avoided the roads and skirted well clear of the scattered villages.

Shadows were lengthening toward nightfall by the time they came within sight of the sea again. Chancing the road at last, Seregil led the way to the edge of a little fishing village called Halfmoon Cove. The locals had always done a thriving trade with smugglers, including a good many Bokthersans, and didn't bother the boats hidden in the surrounding forest. Seregil hoped that things hadn't changed too much in his absence.

Abandoning their exhausted horses, they made their way into the woods, looking for trails Seregil recalled from childhood. Alec was limping badly but refused Seregil's supporting arm in favor of a makeshift walking stick.

Aurenfaie might change little in fifty years, but forests did. Familiar as certain stretches of ground felt beneath his feet, Seregil couldn't seem to locate any specific landmarks.

"We're lost again, aren't we?" Alec groaned as they came to a stop in what had turned out to be a blind gully.

"It's been a long time," Seregil admitted, wiping the sweat from his eyes. He could hear the sigh of the sea in the distance and struck out in that direction, praying that something came to hand. He was about to admit defeat when they stumbled across not one but two little boats hidden beneath a blowdown. They had been stored upside down, with masts and sails lashed to the thwarts below. Choosing the stronger-looking of the two, they dragged it through the trees to the water's edge and set about rigging it to sail.

Alec knew little of boats or sailing but followed instruction readily enough. Stepping the mast, Seregil wedged it solid and sorted out the single sail. It was a simple craft, the same sort that had greeted them when they sailed into Gedre harbor. Even so, it was tricky, securing everything by the glow of a lightstone.

When it was ready, they hauled it out into the water and poled it away from the shore to deeper water with Alec's stick.

"Let's see how much I remember," Seregil said, settling at the tiller. Alec hauled the sail up and it caught the breeze, bellying out with a musty creak. The little craft came around nicely and plunged forward, cutting a V-shaped path across the smooth surface of the cove.

"We did it!" Alec laughed, collapsing in the bow.

"Not yet, we haven't." Seregil scanned the dark expanse of sea spread out before them, wondering if Korathan would follow the usual sea-lanes and turn up where he was expected. They had no food and only enough water for a day or two if they drank sparingly. The only thing they had in abundance was time, and that would hang heavy on them indeed if they didn't spot Skalan sails by tomorrow night.

45

Urgazhi Tricks

Beka crouched in the brambles, ignoring the sharp thorns scraping her hands and face. She'd heard the horse coming in time to duck out of sight and wasn't too choosy about the hiding place.

Daylight was dying fast now. If she could elude her pursuer until nightfall, she might just manage to slip away, find another horse somewhere, and get back to Sarikali on her own terms.

The ambush that morning had taken her captors completely off guard. After Nyal had left them at dawn, they had settled down for a leisurely breakfast, then tied her hand and foot on a horse and set off for the city.

They'd treated her with respect—kindness, even—making certain her bonds were not cutting her wrists and offering her food and water. Playing along, she'd accepted their attentions, keeping her strength up and pretending not to understand their language.

The leader, a young Ra'basi named Korious, did his best to reassure her in broken Skalan.

"Back to Klia," he said, pointing in what must be the direction of Sarikali.

"Teth'sag?" she asked, pointing to herself.

He shrugged, then shook his head.

She went quietly to work on the wrist bindings as they rode, complaining repeatedly about them being too tight. After one or two adjustments Korious had refused to loosen them any more, but by now she had slack enough to surreptitiously twist her wrists, getting her fingers close enough to one of the knots to pick away at it.

It was a lucky thing she had. They hadn't been more than two hours on the road when one of the other riders toppled from his saddle, blood streaming from his head. Horsemen burst from the trees just behind them, followed by men on foot with swords and clubs.

Her escorts froze, too startled to react. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Beka gripped the saddlebow and gave her mount a hard kick in the sides. The horse leapt forward, finding its own way as it broke from the press and galloped wildly down the road. Arrows sang around her and she bent low, fighting at the ropes that still bound her hands.

One hand came free, then the other, and she snatched up the flapping reins. Over the thunder of pursuing hooves, she heard Korious shouting wildly, trying to rally his men.

Undisciplined fools! she thought in disgust, wondering how Nyal had managed to lumber himself with such a sorry bunch of green fighters. A handful of Urgazhi could have had that lot trussed up in no time.

The men who'd attacked them were another matter, however. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw two of them in close pursuit.

She hunched low over her horse's neck and plunged onward. There was no way she was going to elude them on the open road, so when a sidetrack appeared to the left, she reined hard in that direction, ducking overhanging branches.

Giving her mount its head, she clung on and tried to yank her right leg out of her boot. Muscles up and down her side protested, but she pulled free, nearly unseating herself in the process. Steadying herself, she reached down and pulled at the knot securing her other leg.

Her pursuers had faltered a moment, perhaps caught off guard by her sudden swerve. She couldn't see them at the moment, but she could hear them calling out to each other not far behind.

Shielded for the moment by a bend in the road, she reined in, jumped free of the horse, and slapped it hard on the rump, sending it on with her right boot still lashed in the stirrup. She just had time to dive for cover in a bramble patch before the men thundered past, unaware as yet that they were now chasing a riderless horse.

If they were as smart as she guessed they were, it wouldn't be long before they figured it out. Crawling from the brambles, she scrambled up the slope.

She ran until her lungs burned, using the sun as her guide. When she was satisfied that she'd left her pursuers behind, she paused to wash her bleeding foot in a stream, then slowly circled back to the place where the ambush had occurred, hoping to find some sign of who their attackers were.

Someone had been there before her, doing the same. A single set of footprints led from the road to the place where the ambushers had lain in wait, crossing their tracks and meandering in a way that spoke of a thorough search. The shape of the bootprint was familiar.

"Nyal," she whispered, resting her fingers a moment in one long footprint. The ground in front of her blurred, and she dashed the tears away angrily. She'd be damned if she'd weep for that traitor like some jilted dairy maid.

Following the tracks back to the road, she saw that he'd come back alone.

"Good for you, my friends!" she whispered, refusing to admit any other possibility than that Seregil and Alec had eluded him.

What she found next closed the dark fist of anger tighter around her heart. From here, Nyal had dashed off to track her.

Look for me in Sarikali, you son of a bitch! she thought, limping back into the trees.

46

A COLD WELCOME

Alec woke to the sound of waves slapping wood close to his head. Rising from his cramped place in the bow, he looked back past the sail and found Seregil at the tiller, scanning the horizon. He was a sorry sight, with his bruised face and filthy tunic. In this early light, he looked pale, drained of life.

Ghostly.

Alec secretly made a warding sign on his friend's behalf. Seregil glanced his way just then and gave him a tired grin.

"Look there," he said, pointing ahead. "You can just make out the Ea'malies there on the horizon. Keep an eye out for sails."

And so they did, through the morning and into the long afternoon. Their eyes burned from the glare, and their lips cracked from the salt and sun. They kept to a northeast course, using the distant islands as their guide as they tacked back and forth. Alec spelled Seregil at the tiller now and then, urging him to sleep, but he refused.

At last, as the sun slanted down toward the western horizon, Alec caught sight of a dark spot against the silver face of the sea.

"There!" he croaked, hanging over the side in his excitement. "Do you see it? Is that a sail?"

"A Skalan sail," Seregil confirmed, swinging the tiller hard. "Let's hope we get to her before nightfall. They'll never spot us in the dark, and we're too slow to chase them."

Over the next two hours Alec watched as the speck of color grew into the distant outline of a red-sailed Skalan warship. The vessel was taking the usual route used by the dispatch couriers.

"That's all it may be," Seregil fretted as they neared the vessel. "She's alone, not another ship in sight. By the Four, I hope we haven't been chasing the wrong one!"

Any fears they might have had about missing the ship in the dark were quickly allayed. The other vessel shifted course, heading directly for them.

"Looks like our luck is holding after all," Alec said.

As soon as they were within shouting distance they hailed the vessel and heard their greeting returned. Skimming in close to her side, they found a rope ladder hanging ready and the rail above lined with expectant faces.

"Take this," Seregil said, handing him a line. "I'll make this end fast. We don't want to lose this boat until we're sure this other is the right one."

The ladder swung crazily with the roll of the larger vessel, and Alec was dizzy and bruised by the time he'd fought his way up to the rail. Strong hands grasped him, pulling him the rest of the way. Then, to his considerable surprise, he was thrust forward and dragged to his knees.

"Hold on, just let me get—" He tried to rise, only to be pushed down again, harder this time. Looking around, he found himself hemmed in by armed sailors.

Seregil tumbled down beside him and was kicked flat when he tried to rise. Alec reached for his sword, but Seregil stopped him with a sharp look.

"We come in the name of Princess Klia and the queen!" he announced, keeping his own hands well clear of his weapons.

"Sure you do," someone growled.

The crowd parted for a black-haired woman wearing the salt-crusted jerkin of a Skalan naval commander.

"You're a long way from shore in that little bean pod of yours," she said, not smiling.

"We were sent by Princess Klia to intercept her brother, Prince Korathan," Seregil explained, clearly mystified by their hostile reception.

The commander folded her arms, unmoved. "Oh, were you? And where did you learn to speak Skalan so prettily?"

"At the court of Queen Idrilain, may Sakor welcome her spirit," Seregil retorted. He tried to rise and was shoved down again. "Listen to me! There isn't much time. I'm Lord Seregil i Korit, and this is Sir Alec i Amasa of Ivywell. We're aides to Princess Klia. There's been trouble and we must speak to Korathan."

"Why would Prince Korathan be on my ship?" she demanded.

"If not yours, then one close behind," Seregil said, and Alec was dismayed to sense his friend faltering. He looked around quickly, seeking an escape route and finding none. They were still hemmed in by the crew, and there were archers armed and ready along the rail, watching with obvious interest. Even if they did break free, there was nowhere to run.

"Let's see your proofs, then," the woman demanded.

"Proofs?"

"Letters of passage."

"Our journey was too dangerous to risk carrying anything written," Seregil retorted. "The situation in—"

"How convenient," she drawled, drawing an ugly laugh from the others. "It looks like we've caught ourselves a couple of dirty 'faie spies, lads. What do you say, Methes?"

The blond sailor at her side favored Alec and Seregil with an unfriendly look. "These fish are mighty small, Captain. Best to gut 'em and throw them back unless they can tell us a better story." He drew a long knife from his belt and signaled to several other men, who pinned Seregil's and Alec's arms. The one called Methes grabbed Seregil by the hair and yanked his head back to bare his throat.

"For hell's sake, listen!" snarled Seregil.

"We are who we say. We can prove it," Alec cried, struggling now for his life.

"No one knows Prince Korathan is coming," the captain told him. "No one could know, except spies. What are you doing here, Aurenfaie? Who sent you?"

"By the Light, stop this at once!" a man shouted from down the deck.

A middle-aged man dressed in the frayed robes of an Oreska wizard elbowed his way through the press. His long hair was touched with grey, and he had a burn scar on his left cheek. Alec couldn't recall the fellow's name but remembered seeing him around the Oreska and at court.

"Here's help at last," Seregil grunted.

"Stop, you fools!" the wizard cried again. "What are you doing?"

"It's just a couple of faie spies," the captain snapped.

The wizard stared hard at Seregil and Alec, then rounded on the captain. "This man is Lord Seregil i Korit, a friend of the Royal Family and of the Oreska House! And this, if memory serves, is his ward, Sir Alec."

The captain threw Seregil a dubious look, then motioned her men back. "Yes, those are the names they gave."

Seregil rose and dusted himself off. "Thank you, Elutheus. I'm relieved to find one sane person aboard. What are they up to, slaughtering Aurenfaie out of hand?"

"The queen's orders, I'm afraid," the wizard replied. "Captain Heria, I wish to question these men in my cabin. Please send down some food and drink. They look like they've had a hard time of it."

The wizard's cabin was a cramped, dark little kennel belowdecks, but he soon made them comfortable, clearing the cluttered bunk and sending for the ship's drysian to tend Alec's leg. Slumped on a stool, Seregil allowed himself to relax a little. Elutheus was a decent fellow who'd been a friend of Nysander's.

"What other wizards are with the prince?" he asked, accepting a cup of wine gratefully as he watched the healer work.

"Just the prince's field wizard, Wydonis."

"Oh, yes, I remember him. One arm. A bit stuffy at banquets. He didn't think much of Nysander's entertainments."

"No, but he respected his abilities. He's been given Nysander's old tower since you left."

Seregil clenched his cup, fighting down the sudden lump that rose in his throat at the thought of those familiar rooms being occupied by anyone else. Looking up, he saw Alec watching him over the drysian's shoulder, understanding in his blue eyes.

"How did he wrangle that, I wonder?" Seregil asked, trying to make light of it.

"He's wizard to the vicegerent now," said Elutheus.

Seregil finished his wine and accepted more, impatient for the drysian to finish. When the man was gone, Seregil took out the Akhendi bracelet. "Can you seal this away from prying eyes without disturbing the magic it contains?"

"Someone keeps using it to find us and we don't want to be found, especially not here," Alec put in. "Nysander used to seal things up in jars."

"Of course." Elutheus rummaged in a small trunk and came up

with a small clay bottle sealed with a cork. Placing the bracelet inside, he replaced the plug, secured it with a bit of string, and spoke a spell over it. Bluish light flickered around it for an instant. When it died away, he handed it to Seregil.

"Not elegant, perhaps, but this should keep you safe until you open it again. Now then, what are you doing here?"

"We're here on Klia's behalf," Seregil replied, cautious again. "What was all that talk about spies?"

Elutheus shook his head. "Phoria has been busy in her sister's absence. Even before the queen died, Phoria was using the Iia'sidra's inaction to stir up bad feeling against Aurenen, no doubt in preparation for taking what she needs by force. Hence Korathan's presence here now. Plenimar is pressing hard on our eastern borders, and she's grasping at straws."

Seregil shook his head. "I can understand her impatience, but to start a second war against a race that can fight you for centuries, and with magic—it's madness! Where are her mother's old advisers? Surely they've tried to talk her out of it?"

"Phoria listens only to her generals and sycophants. Even Oreska wizards can find themselves open to charges of treason if they're not careful. Lady Magyana has already been banished."

"Magyana? What for?" Seregil counterfeited surprise with his usual ease.

Elutheus studied him for a moment. "It was she who sent word to you, was it not?"

Chagrinned, Seregil said nothing.

"That's all right." The wizard shrugged, smiling. "We keep the secrets that must be kept, those of us who watch."

Alec gave Seregil a startled look behind the wizard's back, then made the sign for "Watcher?"

Seregil stared at the wizard, trying to gauge the man's expression, then said noncommittally, "What would you swear by?"

"Heart, hands, and eyes."

Relief washed through Seregil. "You? I had no idea."

"I was only guessing about you," the wizard replied with a wry smile. "There were always rumors, given your close association with Nysander. I must say, you've concealed yourself well all these years; you've been sorely missed at the gaming tables and pleasure houses since you disappeared this last time. Half of Rhiminee thinks you're dead."

"They were almost right. Now, where's Korathan? The message we carry is for his ears only."

"He should be catching us up very soon," the wizard told them, conjuring up a message sphere. "My lord Korathan," he said, speaking to the little point of light. "We have messengers aboard from your sister, bearing most urgent news."

"There," he said, sending it on its way and rising to go. "Rest now, my friends, and don't let the prince scare you. He's not a bad fellow, so long as you're direct with him."

Seregil chuckled. "I knew him in his younger days. He didn't laugh much, but he was always good for a loan."

Elutheus shook his head. "Luck in the shadows, boys."

"And in the light, wizard," Seregil replied.

"Things are looking up," Seregil remarked when the wizard had left them. "If we can get Korathan to Sarikali, we'll go along with him. It's as safe a ploy as I can think of, given the circumstances."

"Wait a minute," Alec said, frowning. "You 're not thinking of going back?"

"I have to, Alec."

"But how? You've broken every law they laid down for your return—leaving the city, carrying a weapon, not to mention the fact that you killed a few people during the ambush."

"So did you, as I recall."

"Yes, but I'm not the one Nazien i Hari and the entire Iia'sidra invoked teth'sag against."

Seregil shrugged. "There's no other way."

"Horse shit, there isn't! I'll go. I'm just a stupid Skalan. They won't go as hard on me."

"No, and they won't listen to you, either." Seregil pulled his stool closer and clasped Alec's hand. "It's not just about the poisonings for me anymore, or explaining Korathan's sudden arrival."

"What then?"

"Honor, Alec. I broke teth'sag and left Sarikali because circumstance required it. If we can convince Korathan to play things our way, act as if he's come on Klia's account, then our journey's been worth the risk. But I need to finish that job properly. We have to clear Emiel and the Viresse. We have to find out which Akhendi were involved, and why. We might even get Phoria what she needs, whether she wants us to or not."

"And prove to them that you're not the Exile who ran away?" Alec asked.

"Yes. Because that's all I'll ever be in the minds of my kin forever, unless I go back and make things right."

"They could sentence you to death this time."

Seregil gave him a lopsided grin. "If they do, I'll need your help to make another dazzling escape. But this way it's my choice and, for once, I'm choosing honor. I need you to understand, tali." He paused, thinking of that last strange dream and all the other visions he'd been given since his return. "It's something the rhui'auros have been trying to tell me since we arrived."

"Honor, or atui?"

"Atui," Seregil admitted. "To act as a true Aurenfaie, whatever the consequences."

"You picked a hell of a time to start caring about that again."

"I always cared," Seregil said softly.

"All right then, we go back. How?"

"We'll surrender in Gedre and let them take us back."

"And if Riagil is in league with the Akhendi after all?"

"We'll find out soon enough."

Alec looked down at their clasped hands and rubbed his thumb over Seregil's knuckles. "You really believe this will all work?"

For a moment Seregil could almost feel the oppressive heat of the dhima, hear the clink of glass against glass. "Oh, yes. I have a gift for this sort of thing."

47

Korathan

Four warships appeared from the northeast at sunset, dark outlines against the fading sky. Watching them approach, Alec made out the banner of the Skalan royal house flying from the mast of the foremost ship. This vessel drew in alongside their own, and sailors swung weighted boarding lines across for them.

"I haven't done this in a while," Seregil said, balancing precariously on the rail to grasp the rope.

"I never have," Alec muttered, forcing himself not to look down into the narrow, surging channel between the two ships. Following Seregil's lead, he clutched the rope high, wrapped its loose end around the ankle of his good leg, and pushed bravely off, letting the motion of the other vessel help swing him across to the far deck. He even managed to land on his feet once he got there.

Alec had seen Prince Korathan only from a distance a few times, but there was no mistaking the man. He was plain and fair-skinned like his sister and mother, and had the same sharp, appraising eyes. His black coat and close-fitting trousers were of military cut, but he wore the heavy gold chain of the vicegerent on his breast.

A wizard stood with the prince. He was a

portly, balding man, unremarkable except for the pinned-up sleeve of his ornate green robe.

"Wydonis?" Alec whispered.

Seregil nodded.

"Seregil? Sakor's Flame, man, what are you doing here?" the prince demanded, sounding none too pleased.

Perhaps Seregil had overestimated the man's fond memories of their younger days after all, Alec thought uneasily.

Seregil managed a courtly bow despite his bruises and filthy clothes. "We've gone to considerable trouble to reach you, my lord. The news we bring must be shared in private."

Korathan raked them both with a bleak glare, then gestured curtly for them to follow.

"Who's this?" he asked, jerking a thumb at Alec as they entered his cabin.

"Alec of Ivywell. A friend, my lord," Seregil told him.

"Ah, yes." Korathan spared Alec a second glance. "I thought he was blond."

Seregil's lips twitched the tiniest bit. "He usually is, my lord."

The cabin was as austere as the man who occupied it. Korathan seated himself at a small table and motioned curtly for Seregil to take the room's only other chair. Alec settled on the lid of a sea chest.

"All right, then, out with it," said Korathan.

"I know why you're here," Seregil told him, no less blunt. "I thought you were a wiser gambler than that. This is a fool's errand."

The prince's pale eyes narrowed, "Don't presume too much on our past association."

"It's for the sake of that, and my love for your family, that I'm here at all," Seregil retorted. "This plan to capture Gedre can only end in disaster. And not just for Klia and the rest of us trapped there. For Skala as well. It's insane! You must know that."

To Alec's surprise, Korathan appeared to consider Seregil's harsh words. "How do you know my mission?"

"Your sister's not the only one with spies in other camps," Seregil replied.

"Old Magyana, was it?"

Seregil said nothing.

Korathan tapped a finger on the tabletop. "All right then, we'll sort that out later. Phoria has the backing of the generals in this venture. As vicegerent, I'm obligated to obey."

"Clearly, the generals don't know what the Aurenfaie are capable of if they feel sufficiently threatened or insulted," Seregil replied, earnest now. "They trusted your mother, and many of them still trust Klia. She's a skillful diplomat, this half-sister of yours. She'd already swayed some of the opposing clans to our favor before news arrived of Idrilain's death. Phoria is another matter, though. Within days of the news, the Viresse were spreading the story that she'd betrayed her own mother and collaborated with the Lerans. Ulan i Sathil has the documents to prove it. Did you know of this?"

The prince eyed him levelly. "You seem to know quite a lot of things you shouldn't. How does that happen?"

"Do you recognize this?" Seregil held out his hand, showing him the ring.

"So you have it!"

"A gift from your mother, for certain services rendered. Alec and I both know the whole story, never mind how for the moment. Ulan i Sathil cast the whole business in the most damning light to a number of other khirnari—men and women he wanted to sway to his side. To the Aurenfaie, such an act demonstrates a shocking lack of honor. Even khirnari who were set to vote in Skala's favor are having second thoughts. If you cap it with this ill-considered raid, the next Skalans they deal with will call you ancestor."

"It's suicide, my lord," Alec added, tired of being ignored. "You'll get us all killed and accomplish nothing."

Korathan threw him an annoyed look. "I have my orders—"

"Orders be damned!" Seregil said. "You must have advised her against this?"

"She's queen now, Seregil." Korathan frowned down at his folded hands. "You know Phoria; you're either her ally or her enemy. There's no middle ground. That goes for me as much as anyone else."

"I don't doubt it, but I believe we can offer you a way out with honor served on all sides," Seregil told him.

"And what would that be?"

"Play the injured party and put honor on your side. Is Phoria aware that Klia and Torsin were poisoned by someone in Sarikali?"

"No, by the Flame! They're dead?"

"He is. Klia was hanging on when we left three nights ago, but she's deathly ill. You can use this, Korathan. When we left, no one

else in Aurenen appeared to know that you're coming. If they've learned of it since, then we can argue that they had the purpose wrong. Sail into Gedre tomorrow with all flags flying and send word announcing that you've come seeking justice against the murderers. Play injured honor to the hilt and demand entrance to Sarikali."

"Who are these assassins?" asked Korathan. "Surely the Iia'sidra hasn't brushed such an act off lightly?"

"No, my lord, they haven't."

With Alec's assistance, Seregil explained the events of the past few days. They showed him the Akhendi sen'gai they'd found, and the bottle containing the bracelet. By the time they were finished, Korathan was staring at Seregil again.

"So you're not the wastrel you pretend to be. I wonder now if you ever were."

Seregil had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Anything I have done, my lord, I've done for the good of Skala—though there are few enough left who can vouch for my good character, and fewer still whom you have reason to trust. Your mother knew of some of my efforts on her behalf, as this ring attests. So did Nysander. If you have a truth knower among your wizards, Alec and I will happily submit ourselves to the test."

"A brave claim, Lord Seregil, but you always were a daring gambler," Korathan said with a sly smile. Raising his voice, he called out, "Doriska, what do you say to that?"

A side door opened and a woman in Oreska robes came in. "They speak the truth, my prince."

Korathan raised an eyebrow at them. "And a good thing, too. You've brought yourself close to a charge of treason just by coming here."

"Nothing could be further from our minds, my lord. Your mother sent me along to advise Klia on Aurenfaie customs. Let me do the same for you.

"Honor and family are everything here. You're well within your rights to land and demand Klia's return. If we play our cards right, I may even be able to salvage something of her mission here. But be warned; you'll accomplish nothing by force. If anyone guesses that you've come with an attacking force, your ships will be in flames before you sight land. So you see, we may well be saving your life, as well."

"So you mean to negotiate on my behalf, do you?"

"In Gedre, at least. I think Riagil's a man we can trust. He may

be able to get you admitted to Sarikali, but he doesn't have the power you heed to deal with the Iia'sidra, and no one is going to listen to me, after what I've done. You'll need Adzriel for that."

"I can damn well speak for myself," Korathan growled. "I'm the Vicegerent of Skala, and blood kin to the woman they tried to murder."

"Without a claim to Bokthersan kinship, none of that will matter," Seregil told him. "That blood tie is your trump card, my lord, and Klia's. Let Adzriel help you use it to your best advantage. Of course, they may not allow you in at all. Whatever happens, though, Alec and I have to get to Sarikali and present the evidence we've found against Akhendi."

"They'll listen to you, but not to me?" asked Korathan. "Is this another of your risky gambles?"

"Yes, my lord, it is," Alec interjected. "He could face a death sentence by going back. If you still have any doubts as to our loyalties—"

Seregil cut him short with a warning look. "I think who our evidence clears and who it implicates will be proof enough of our good faith, my lord."

Korathan gave Alec another of those dismissive glances, making it clear he considered him little more than a servant, and one who would do well to hold his tongue. "I know of the terms of your return, Seregil, and what it meant to defy them. It strikes me as quite a sacrifice for a man to make for a country he abandoned two years ago, and for a queen he clearly does not trust."

Seregil bowed. "Meaning no disrespect, my lord, but we're doing this for Klia's sake, and for our own. And if Alec and I had abandoned Skala, as you put it, we wouldn't have undertaken this mission in the first place. Just so we understand one another."

"We do," Korathan replied with a tight smile that sent a ripple of unease up Alec's back. "Your declaration of loyalty is most appreciated."

"I don't trust him," Alec whispered when they were safely above decks again and out of the prince's hearing. "And you weren't much help. You practically insulted the queen to his face!"

"That truth knower of his was still lurking outside the door. Besides, I doubt I told him anything he hasn't already guessed. He

knew it was foolish to try an attack; I've shown him a way to come out of this a winner."

"If we can get back to the city," muttered Alec, ticking his doubts off on his fingers. "If the Gedre or Akhendi don't execute you on Haman's behalf before we get there. If the Iia'sidra believes us, and if we're right about the Akhendi at all."

Seregil draped an arm over Alec's shoulders. "One problem at a time, tali. We've gotten this far, haven't we?"

48

An Uneasy Truce

Beka waited for nightfall before coming out onto the main road again. Cold, hungry, and footsore, she hummed ballads under her breath to keep her spirits up and her mind clear of questions she had no answers for.

Just before midnight she reached a village and helped herself to a horse. She hadn't seen a dog since she'd arrived in Aurenen. A good thing, now that I'm turning thief, she thought, grinning wryly to herself as she led the horse away.

When she was out of earshot, or at least bowshot, she mounted it bareback, wrapped her hands in the mane, and urged it into a trot, hoping it would respond to leg pressure since she had no reins. When it did, she kicked it into a gallop, laughing with relief.

Further down the road, she snagged a clean tunic and sen'gai from a washline and attempted to make herself a bit less conspicuous, binding her long red hair out of sight and making the best job of the sen'gai that she could.

By dawn she guessed she might be within a day's ride of the city, barring trouble. It was a

chancy thing, staying on the road, but a growing sense of urgency drove her on. Her place was at Klia's side.

The bay mare was as good as any she'd ever ridden. Horse thieving would be a profitable profession here, she thought, if every nag stolen hastily in the dark proved as fine as one you'd have to raid a noble's stable for in Skala.

She encountered more people on the road as the morning wore on, but most were intent on business of their own and didn't waste a second glance on a poor, barefoot stranger. When there were more than a few people together, she turned aside and waited behind the shelter of the trees for them to pass. She kept a lookout to the rear, as well, but no one seemed in any hurry to overtake her.

This plan worked well enough until just past midday, when she struck a stretch of road that wended through a deep cut. Rounding a bend, she found herself faced with a pack of armed riders less than a hundred yards away, coming on at a canter. There was nowhere to go but back, and that was bound to attract notice.

At least they wore the colors of Akhendi, she noted with relief. Keeping to the side of the road, she continued on at a steady pace, praying that they'd go single file and keep their distance.

She was nearly past when one of them suddenly reached out and snatched the sen'gai from her head. Her red hair tumbled down over her shoulders, damning as any uniform.

"It's the Skalan!" the man shouted. Dropping the sen'gai, he drew his sword and raised it to strike.

Ducking low over her horse's neck, Beka grasped its mane and kicked hard. The mare bolted forward, then reared as two horsemen angled to block her escape.

Hands snatched at her tunic. For an instant all she could see was a circle of leering faces and glinting steel. Another man struck at her with a cudgel, bruising her arm through her mail shirt.

Suddenly a fierce yell sounded from somewhere overhead, followed by the sound of falling rock. Still wheeling her horse, Beka caught a glimpse of another horseman plunging down the steep slope to her right. Then he was among the Akhendi, laying about with the flat of his sword.

"Go!" he shouted, urging his horse forward to block one of her attackers. "Break out, damn it. Ride!"

Beka knew that voice. "Nyal?"

"Go!"

Looking around, she spotted a young rider who'd been startled by

Nyal's sudden appearance. Screaming an Urgazhi war cry, she barreled into him, knocking him off his horse as she surged past to the open road beyond. It was the wrong direction, but it would have to do for now.

She heard another wild whoop behind her, then the sound of pursuit. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Nyal galloping after her with the Akhendi close behind.

He caught up with her and thrust something at her: her sword, hilt first. She wrenched it free, letting the scabbard fall away, and slapped the flat of the blade across her mount's rump, urging it on.

"This way," Nyal shouted, pointing to a side road ahead.

Caught up in the moment, she followed without question.

"It's no use. They're still with us!" she cried, looking back to see the Akhendi still in full cry behind them. "We can't outrun them. Turn and fight! There are only five of them now."

"Beka, no!" Nyal cried, but she was already slowing.

Turning her horse, she let out another yell and galloped back, sword held high. As she'd expected, the sudden turnabout startled her pursuers. Three veered off, but the others charged her. The road was narrow here, so she aimed her mount between them. Ducking the leader's swing, she came up in time to catch the second a blow to the head with her hilt. He toppled off his horse and she rode on toward the remaining three. One turned tail and ran, but the other two closed in on her.

Fighting on horseback without a saddle or stirrups to brace against was dangerous at best. Instead, she slid off the far side, using the horse as a momentary shield, and ducked under its neck to slash at the hocks of her closest opponent's mount. She managed to nick it, and the animal reared, throwing the rider. Then she was turning to block a blow from his companion, who'd outflanked her. Caught between two horses, she threw herself under the belly of her attacker's mount and rolled to her feet on the other side. She slashed him across the thigh, then smacked his horse on the rump, sending it hurtling into the man she'd knocked from the saddle.

Another horseman bore down on her, and she braced for an attack, but it was Nyal, yelling for her to get up behind him. Grabbing his outstretched hand, she thrust her foot over his in the stirrup and let him haul her up behind his saddle. He wheeled about and took off at a gallop, leaving their wounded ambushers in the dust.

Beka had no choice but to wrap her free arm around his waist, clinging to him as they galloped further down the overgrown track. Some part of her mind registered how good he felt, pressed against

her, but she pushed the thought away angrily, recalling instead the coldness in his eyes when he'd captured her.

They rode on in silence for a few miles, then stopped to let the horse drink at a stream. Beka slid quickly off, still grasping her sword, and took a few steps back.

Nyal dismounted but didn't try to approach her. He just stood there, sword sheathed, arms folded across his chest.

"Where did you come from?" she demanded. "Were you tracking me down again?"

"After a fashion," he admitted. "I saw where you'd been ambushed. I was certain I'd find you dead, but instead picked up your trail where you eluded the others. I figured you wouldn't be happy to see me, so I kept back, shadowing you to make sure you were safe. You did well, until the Akhendi jumped you. I wasn't expecting that, either."

Beka ignored the compliment. "If you wanted me safe, then why track me down in the first place?"

He gave her a rueful grin. "It seemed the best way to distract my fellow searchers from following your friends, whom I guessed rightly had business over the mountains."

"You found them?"

He nodded. "So did a gang of bandits, but we dealt with them. I sent Seregil and Alec on their way and came back to make certain you reached Sarikali safely."

"So you say," she growled.

"Talia." He stepped closer, and she spotted a dark stain on the front of his tunic, near the lower hem. It was blood, but too dry to have come from today's fighting.

"So you let them go, did you?" she said, pointing.

"Alec was wounded, shot through the leg," Nyal told her, rubbing at the stain. "I bound the wound for him."

This was agony. She wanted to believe him, even had some reason to do so, but caution still held her back. "Why did the Akhendi attack me?"

Turning away, Nyal sat down on a large stone next to the stream. "I don't know," he said, and she knew then that he was lying.

"It has something to do with Amali, doesn't it?"

This time there was no mistaking the guilty flush that suffused his face. Seregil was right about him all along, she thought miserably. "You're in league with her, aren't you?"

"No," he said, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head wearily.

She stared down at him, and her traitorous heart summoned memories of how his bare skin felt beneath her hands. She'd told Alec she wasn't love-blind; now was the time to prove it. "Give me your weapons," she ordered.

Without a word, he unbuckled his sword belt and tossed it at her feet, then did the same with the knife at his belt. She hung them over her shoulder, and checked his boots and tunic for hidden blades.

He was so patient, so passive, that she began to feel guilty. Before she could stop herself, she'd reached to brush a hand against his smooth cheek. He turned his head toward it, making the touch into a brief caress. She pulled back as if she'd been burned.

"If I've wronged you, I'm sorry," she said through clenched teeth. "I have my duty."

He looked away again. "So you've always said. What do you want to do now?"

"I have to get back to Klia."

"At least in that, we are in agreement," he replied, and she was certain she saw him smile as he turned away to mount his horse.

Somehow, she doubted whether the ride would be any easier from here.

49

Surrender

Lulled by the motion of the ship, Seregil slept deeply in spite of what lay ahead. He'd half hoped, half feared to dream again, but when he woke before dawn the following morning, he remembered nothing. Beside him, Alec frowned and muttered in his sleep, then came awake with a startled gasp when Seregil brushed his cheek.

Glancing out the tiny window at the end of the bunk, Alec settled back on his elbows. "Feels like we're still under sail."

Seregil shifted for a better look. "We're a mile or two out. I can see lights in Gedre."

They said little as they dressed in borrowed clothes. With a pang of regret, Seregil took off Corruth's ring and hung it around his neck on a string. The Akhendi bracelet was at the bottom of his old pack, wrapped in the Akhendi sen'gai they'd taken from the ambushers.

"What about our weapons and tools?" Alec asked.

"Wear your sword," Seregil said, buckling his own on. "Leave the rest here; I doubt we'll be allowed anything more dangerous than a fruit knife after today."

No one sailed out to meet them this time. Leaving his escort at the harbor's mouth,

Korathan anchored out beyond the piers and was rowed ashore in a longboat with the two wizards. Seregil and Alec followed in a second boat, hooded and anonymous among Korathan's guard.

"Riagil must suspect something," Alec whispered, scanning the distant crowd waiting for them on the shore.

Seregil nodded. It appeared that most of the city had turned out for their arrival, but there were no signs of welcome: no singing, no boats, no flowers strewn on the water. He rubbed his palms nervously on the legs of his leather trousers, knowing every pull of the oars brought, them closer to what might prove a very disheartening moment of truth.

His sense of foreboding grew as they ground to a halt in the shallows, greeted only by the rough sigh of the wind and the slap of waves along the beach. They waded in behind Korathan and his entourage but hung back out of sight.

Following Seregil's instruction, Korathan stopped just above the water's edge, waiting to be summoned onto forbidden soil.

A man stepped from the crowd, and Seregil saw with relief that it was Riagil i Molan. He must have headed home as soon as their disappearance was discovered. The khirnari approached Korathan unsmiling, hands clasped in front of him rather than extended in welcome.

Alec shifted restlessly, knee-deep in the surf.

"Be patient," whispered Seregil. "There are forms to be observed."

"Who are you, to come to my shores with ships of war?" Riagil demanded in Skalan.

"I am Korathan i Malteus Romeran Baltus of Rhiminee, son of Queen Idrilain and brother of Queen Phoria. I do not come for battle, Khirnari, but seeking teth'sag for the attack on my sister, Klia a Idrilain, and for the murder of her envoy, Lord Torsin. By my blood tie to the Bokthersa, I claim that right."

The tension broke as Riagil smiled and walked down to meet him. "You are welcome here, Korathan i Malteus." Riagil removed a heavy bracelet from his wrist and presented it to the prince. "When I left Sarikali your sister still lived, though she remains ill and in seclusion. Her people protect her well. I will send word of your arrival to the Iia'sidra."

"I wish to speak with them myself," Korathan told him. "I demand an audience in the queen's name."

"This is most irregular, to say the least," Riagil said, taken aback by the man's abrupt manner. "I do not know if they will allow you to

cross the mountains, but rest assured your claim of honor will be heard."

"The atui of Gedre is well known," Korathan replied. "To prove my own good faith, I honor the teth'sag of the Haman against my own kinsman."

On cue, Seregil waded forward, eyes averted. Splashing up to the beach, he drew his sword and drove it point first into the wet sand. "You know me, Riagil i Molan," he said, pushing back his hood. "I acknowledge that I have broken teth'sag and of my own free will surrender myself to the judgment of the Haman and the Iia'sidra." Dropping to his knees, he prostrated himself facedown, arms extended at his sides in a gesture of abject submission.

A moment of eerie quiet followed. Seregil lay absolutely still, listening to the water trickling between the grains of sand beneath his cheek. Riagil could by rights slay him with his own sword for breaking the decree of exile. If he were in league with Akhendi, it would be a most convenient tactic.

He heard muffled footsteps approach, then, from the corner of his eye, saw the sword blade shift slightly as someone grasped the hilt.

Then a firm hand closed over his shoulder.

"Rise, Exile," said Riagil, drawing him to his feet. "In the name of the Haman, I take you captive." Lowering his voice, he added, "The Iia'sidra are awaiting your return before the vote is taken. You have much to explain."

"I'm anxious to do so, Khirnari."

Alec splashed up beside them, planted his sword, and assumed the ritual posture.

"As a Skalan, you must be judged by your own people, Alec i Amasa," Riagil said, lifting him up. At his signal, one of his kinsmen collected their swords. Several others fell in beside Seregil.

"I must ask two things of you that may strain your patience, Khirnari," said Korathan. "These two must be allowed to speak on my behalf, regardless of the sentence passed against them. They came to me at great peril to their own lives to bring news of who has attacked my family."

"I have to speak to the Iia'sidra. Emiel i Moranthi's life and the honor of three clans depend on it," Seregil told him. "I swear it by Aura's name."

"This is why you left?" Riagil asked.

"It seemed reason enough, Khirnari." Not quite a lie.

"I would also prefer to keep their return secret until we arrive in the sacred city," Korathan added.

Riagil noted Seregil's bruised face and nodded. "As you wish. It is enough that they have returned. Come, Korathan i Malteus, you shall be made welcome in my home until the will of the Iia'sidra is known. I'll send word to Sarikali at once."

And so it was, a short time later, that Seregil found himself once more in Riagil's painted courtyard. He and Alec sat apart from the others under the watchful gaze of their guards while Korathan and his people were given wine and food.

"At least he hasn't chained you," Alec remarked hopefully.

Seregil nodded absently, studying Korathan. It had been thirty years or more since they'd roistered through the Lower City stews together. Time had taken a harsh toll on the man, leaving him grim to the point of melancholy most of the time. Seated under the gnarled shade tree, he seemed uneasy with the peaceful setting-unmoved by the warm sunshine or the smiling, generous Gedre attending him.

A man made only for war, Seregil thought. Yet a man of reason as well, or they wouldn't be sitting here now.

Within the hour Riagil rejoined them bearing good news. "The Iia'sidra has granted you entrance to the sacred city, Korathan i Malteus," he announced happily. "There are restrictions, however."

"I expected as much," Korathan replied. "And they are?"

"You may bring your wizards, but no more than twenty soldiers, and you must order your vessels to anchor outside my harbor."

"Very well."

"You must also invoke your blood tie to the Bokthersan clan in order to declare teth'sag. Adzriel will act as your sponsor before the council."

"So I've been told," the prince replied. "Though I do not understand why my sister Klia was allowed to speak for herself, but I am not."

"This is different," Riagil explained. "Klia came to negotiate. You are bringing a matter of atui before them and, I'm sorry to say, some of the clans could challenge your right to do so. The Tirfaie— any Tirfaie—do not have the same rights under Aurenen law. Rest assured, Adzriel will be a great help to you."

Korathan glowered at Riagil. "You consider us a lesser race, then?"

The khirnari pressed a hand to his heart and made him a slight

bow. "Some do, my friend; not I. Please believe that I will do all in my power to see that your sister and Torsin i Xandus are accorded justice."

The column set off that afternoon with Riagil and twenty Gedre swordsmen as escort. There were no pack animals or musicians to slow them down this time. Not one for unnecessary ceremony, Korathan and his riders traveled as if they were on campaign, carrying only what they needed.

Seregil and Alec rode with the Skalans, wearing the tabard and wide steel hats of Korathan's personal guard.

"In uniform at last, eh?" Seregil said, grinning as Alec fidgeted at his helmet strap. "Between that and your dark hair, I doubt even Thero will recognize you."

"Let's just hope the Akhendi don't," Alec replied, warily scanning the cliffs that hemmed in this section of the road for trouble. "Do you think anyone will notice we're the only members of the prince's guard not carrying weapons?"

"If anyone asks, we're Korathan's personal cooks."

They bypassed the Dravnian way station to make camp farther up the pass. At the first stretch of guarded trail, Korathan accepted the blindfold with good grace, commenting only that he wished Skala had such safeguards.

They reached the steaming Vhada'nakori pool late the following morning and halted to rest the horses. Seregil and Alec remained with the soldiers while Riagil guided Korathan and his wizards up to the stone dragon.

Seregil's mare liked to suck air when being saddled, and he'd felt the saddle begin to slip during the last blind ride. After watering her, he tightened the girth strap, giving her a smart slap on the side to make her exhale.

As he worked, he listened with half an ear to the various conversations going on around him. Korathan's riders had struck him as a dour lot at the outset, but their Gedre counterparts were beginning to win some of them over. Some of them were stumbling along now in a jumbled argot of Skalan and 'faie, trying to make themselves understood. But he also caught a troubling undercurrent from some of the Skalans—muttered complaints about blindfolds and "strange,

unnatural magicks." It seemed that Phoria was not alone in her distrust of the 'faie, and in wizards in general. This was a new attitude for Skalans, and it troubled him profoundly.

He was just finishing with the strap when suddenly everything went very still.

"Son of Korit," a voice said, speaking close to his ear.

The hair on his neck prickled. Turning sharply, he expected to find a rhui'auros or khtir'bai behind him. Instead, he saw only Alec and the soldiers still going about their business, though he still couldn't hear any sound.

Wondering if he'd suddenly gone deaf, he turned to steady himself against his horse and found a dragon the size of a hound perched on the saddle. Its wings were folded tight to its sides, and its neck was arched back like a serpent's. Before he could do more than register its existence, it struck, clamping its jaws around his left hand just above the thumb.

Seregil froze. He felt its heat first, hot as an oven against his skin, then the pain of teeth and venom slammed up his arm.

He grasped his horse's mane with his free hand, willing himself not to jerk away or cry out. The dragon's claws scraped pale lines in the saddle leather as it tightened its grip and gave his hand a sharp shake. Then it went still again, watching him with one hard yellow eye as blood welled from its scaly mouth and ran down his wrist.

O Aura, it's a big one! Dangerously big. Its jaws reached to the other side of his hand.

"That will leave a lucky mark."

The pain quickly swelled to something approaching rapture. The creature seemed to fill his vision, and he stared at it with an agonized reverence as hazy golden light coalesced around them. Its scales reflected the sunlight with an iridescent sheen. The stiff spines on its face twitched slightly as it held him, and wisps of vapor rose from its delicate golden nostrils.

"Son of Korit," the voice said again.

"Aura Elustri," he whispered, trembling.

The dragon released him and flapped away across the steaming tarn.

Sounds rushed in on him, and suddenly Alec was there, easing him down to the ground as his legs gave out under him. Seregil stared dazedly down at the double line of bloody punctures that crossed his hand, back and palm.

"Larger than Thero's," he murmured, shaking his head in amazement.

"Seregil!" Alec said, shaking him by the shoulder. "Where did it come from? Are you all right? Where's that vial?"

"Vial? Pouch." It was hard to concentrate with his entire arm on fire from the inside. People crowded in to see, overwhelming him with noise.

Alec tugged the pouch free from Seregil's belt and shook out the glass vial of lissik the rhui'auros had given him—the one he'd very nearly left behind.

He let out a strangled laugh. They knew I'd need it. They knew all along.

Alec gently worked the dark, oily liquid into the wound, easing the worst of the burning.

The crowd parted for Korathan and Riagil. The khirnari knelt and took Seregil's hand, then called out for herbs.

"By the Light, Seregil!" he murmured, quickly assembling a poultice and wrapping it around his hand with wet rags. "To be so marked, it's—"

"A gift," Seregil croaked, feeling the dragon's venom spreading through his body, turning his veins to wires of hot steel.

"A gift indeed. But can you ride?"

"Tie me on, if you have to." He tried to get up and failed. Someone held a flask to his lips, and he gulped down a bitter infusion.

"You're trembling," Alec muttered, helping him up. "How are you going to manage?"

"Not much choice, tali," Seregil replied. "The worst of it should pass in a day or two. It didn't bite too deeply, just enough to mark me and make me remember."

"Remember what?"

Seregil grinned weakly. "Who I am."

50

Standoff

The ride back to Sarikali seemed endless. Beka and Nyal kept off the main road and steered wide of the little villages they passed. Nyal stopped at one to buy a second horse, leaving her in the trees without comment or warning.

She was grateful to have her own mount again; the closeness of riding double with Nyal had been more than she could bear. They spoke little during the day and rolled into their blankets on opposite sides of the fire as soon as they'd eaten.

The entire situation felt ridiculous when she let herself think too much about it. She was, in essence, his prisoner, yet she held all the weapons. Either of them could have stolen away in the night, yet each was there in the morning.

I need to get back to the city and he's been ordered to bring me there. That's all there is to it, she told herself, ignoring the sad, furtive glances he cast her way.

They reached the river the following afternoon and reined in at the head of the bridge.

"Well, here we are," said Beka. "What now?"

Nyal stared thoughtfully at the distant city. "I must take you to the Iia'sidra, I suppose.

Don't worry, though. You're Tir. I imagine they'll just pass you along to Klia. She's the one who must answer for you." · "Will you tell them about letting Seregil go?" she asked mockingly.

Nyal sighed. "Sooner or later I'll have to."

Something in his face brought on another twinge of doubt. If he was telling the truth—

"We'd better put on a good show," she said, handing him back his weapons. This brought on another wave of empty regret; he could have taken them from her if he'd really wanted to.

There was less fuss about her return than she'd expected. They attracted little notice until they reached Silmai tupa. Nyal exchanged a few words with the servant at the khirnari's door, then stepped back and let Beka enter alone. She could feel him watching her but refused to look back. Squaring her shoulders, she allowed herself to be escorted into the main hall, where Brythir sat waiting.

The khirnari's reaction was impossible to read. He simply stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. "I have summoned the Iia'sidra and your own people, Captain. You must answer before them."

She made him a deep bow. "As you wish, Khirnari. But please tell me, is Klia alive?"

"Yes, and I understand she is improving, though she is still unable to speak."

Beka bowed again, too overcome with relief to speak.

"Come." He motioned her to a chair and put a mug of ale into her shaking hands. "And now you must answer a question for me. Have you returned of your own will?"

"Yes, my lord."

This seemed to content him, for he asked her nothing more. As soon as she'd finished her ale, they proceeded under escort to the Iia'sidra chamber.

Here, she found herself facing a far more hostile assembly, although she received nods of encouragement from the Bokthersans and Akhendi. Sitting in Klia's place, Thero gave her a slight smile. She hadn't had a chance to clean up or change out of the bedraggled clothes she'd stolen. She looked every inch a spy, if not a very successful one.

The Iia'sidra questioned her closely, but she stubbornly refused to say why Seregil left the city or what direction he and Alec had taken. In Skala, such an interrogation might have ended in the torture rooms of Red Tower prison or under the hands of a truth knower. Instead, she was turned over to her own people.