"She's only asking after friends," the girl cried, and her small voice filled with hysterical anger. "The sages are like a family! I only wish that I knew… that I could remember more, but when I saw Jeremy…"

Poor Imaret broke, and Wynn's guilt v hWynn's overwhelmed her. Her interest lay only in what had killed the messengers. She tried to turn back to the girl but couldn't get out of the captain's grip.

"If you think of anything else," Wynn said to Imaret, "will you send for me?"

"No," Rodian ordered. "She will send for me."

He shoved the door open and propelled Wynn out. Once they passed through the counter's hatch and stepped outside, he took his hand away and pointed toward his horse down the street.

"Over there."

Wynn followed beside the captain, noting the point of his sword's sheath trailing beneath his cloak's hem. Heading for Rodian's white mare, they passed the very side street leading to the alley of last night.

Wynn was lost in resentment when a skittering sound reached her ears, like the click of claws on cobblestones, and she turned her head.

At the side street's end something dark darted away into the alley.

Wynn slowed, almost turning aside, but then thought better of it. It was probably just a dog scavenging behind the shops. For some reason that brief glimpse wouldn't fade from her thoughts, though she hadn't seen it clearly.

Suddenly she missed Chap so much her chest ached.

"What's wrong?" the captain asked.

Wynn found him paused in the street, studying her again. She shook off the strange melancholy remembrance. Part of her wondered if Premin Sykion, High-Tower, and others weren't right about her. Was she losing her wits?

"Nothing," she answered.

He rounded the horse, motioning Wynn to follow, and they stood out of the chill breeze between his white mount and a pottery shop.

"Do not interfere," he began. "Every question you ask may change an answer I seek later, when someone thinks they've already mentioned something of importance. I'll find who murdered your brethren, but only if I'm able to gain information untainted or second-guessed. Do you understand?"

She glanced down at the street stones, wondering if he would be of any use at all to her. At least he now spoke to her as an equal.

"Yes," she answered.

"Last night, when you began searching the body… what were you looking for?"

The sudden question took her off-balance. She peered up, again trying to estimate his nature. If there was an undead in the city, she would need help when the time came to deal with it. At present she had no one except Domin il'Sänke.

In Rodian's cold blue eyes, meticulous appearance, and zeal for order, she saw a man determined to advance himself. He bore no title other than rank and had probably worked his way through the military by effort rather than favor. But he might still tell the royals and their officials exactly what they wanted to hear. How would he react if she told him an undead had attacked Jeremy and Elias, drained the life from them, and taken a folio for some purpose of its own?

"I was simply shocked by their condition," she half lied. "Your lieutenant didn't warn us."

"You were looking for wounds," he said flatly.

"And you didn't? With their faces so twisted, skin paled too quickly… yet they bore no wounds, did they?"

His jaw didn't even twitch at her challenge, so she knew he had checked the bodies. But he also said nothing at her insinuation concerning the mysterious way they'd died. No, she couldn't look to this captain for any help.

"So, have you been sworn to secrecy as well," he began suddenly, "concerning this project of your guild?"

Wynn sighed. "I am only a journeyor. I have no part in the translation project."

"Even if you did know, would you tell me?"

"No," she answered honestly.

This time his jaw clenched. He put his foot in the stirrup and swung into his saddle.

"I don't understand your people. You all claim to want these murders solved—the killer or killers caught—yet your project seems to mean more than two lives."

"Perhaps you should stop blaming my guild for your shortcomings," she answered. "You are the captain of the Shyldfälches—the People's Shield—established by the monarchs of Malourné. Where were you when two of my people died?"

Rodian pulled his horse around, and his calm broke. "Even with my full complement of guards, we cannot be everywhere at all times. Nor can the constabularies. We are few compared to the breadth of our responsibilities."

"You know less than you presume concerning my guild," Wynn countered. "We have our own duties and limits, some dictated from the same sources as yours. We fulfill our responsibilities, but it's your duty to solve these murders—not ours."

Rodian looked down upon her, and she watched his breaths deepen. He shifted uncomfortably, settling both hands upon the saddle's pommel with the reins still wrapped between them. Wynn was tired of this arrogant soldier.

"It's not always easy… what is asked of us," he said quietly.

"Yes, remember that." And she turned away down the street.

"Where are you going?" he called after her.

"Home."

Wynn heard the clop of horseshoes. Rodian's mount appeared beside her, and she hopped aside in surprise. The captain flipped his cloak back and reached down an open hand.

In truth, the afternoon grew cold, and in her hurry she'd worn no cloak. The sun had been out earlier, but the sky was now hee sky w overcast and rain would likely come. Rodian's horse craned its head at her, a pretty white creature with round gentle eyes.

Without a word, Wynn grasped Rodian's hand.

He heaved her up behind himself. As the horse lurched forward, Wynn quickly wrapped her arms around the captain's waist. For a short way the ride was unnervingly quiet. Wynn tried to watch the people in the streets going about their daily lives.

"You are a journeyor, yes?" the captain suddenly asked.

Sitting behind him, she couldn't see his expression. "I said as much," she replied.

"And, as you said, I know little of the guild's ways," he answered. "I was merely curious."

She said nothing to this.

"As such, you have… an assignment? Or so I've heard. Some duty you perform outside the guild, now that you've achieved journeyor status?"

"Yes—no… not anymore."

"Yes, no, which is it?"

Wynn leaned sideways but couldn't quite see his face. What was he getting at?

"I had an assignment, as you call it. It ended about six moons ago."

"So you finished, and now you will advance in rank?"

"It's not that simple… and I haven't finished anything. Not enough to petition and test for master's status, not by far."

"I see," Rodian replied. "At times, in the military, we too must point out our accomplishments to our superiors."

Wynn looked up at the back of his head. This captain had ambition if he was bold enough to do such a thing. That wasn't the way things were done in the guild. And she wondered just what he'd done to gain his post as head of the city's honored guard. Even in that, it seemed a strange place to be, if he was a career soldier.

"It's not like that with us," she said. "Our superior, a chosen mentor in our selected order—usually a domin—advises us when it's time to go before the premin council."

"And you've not been so advised?"

"No."

"But you have no assignment, as a journeyer?"

"Not anymore." And it was her turn to sigh. "I just sit about… waiting."

"I don't understand," Rodian said. "For what?"

Wynn thought she saw him shake his head, and she had no answer for his question.

"What was this assignment you didn't finish?" he asked.

"I went with my mentor and others to help start a new branch of the guildsel of the."