"Soon as I finish this."

"Looks like we won't have to toss him in the trough after all, eh?" Micum grinned at Alec. "And I was looking forward to it."

Seregil scrubbed at a patch of dry mud, sending up a cloud of dust. "You off to Watermead tomorrow?"

Micum heard the thinly veiled challenge the question often carried. "At first light. Kari will skin me if I stay away any longer. Why don't you two come out with me? The hunting should be good just now, and we could work on Alec's swordplay. Beka's a perfect match for him."

"I want to get settled at the Cockerel first," Seregil replied.

"Suit yourself. You're no use to anyone when you're like this."

Micum yawned again, then clasped hands with Seregil for a long moment, holding his friend's gaze until Seregil managed a tight, grudging smile.

Satisfied, Micum released him and clapped Alec on the shoulder. "I'll be asleep before you get upstairs, so it's farewell for now. Luck to you in the shadows."

"And to you," Alec called after him.

Upending a bucket, Alec sat down to watch Seregil finish with the horse. "He doesn't stay around long, does he?"

Seregil shrugged. "Micum? Sometimes. Not like he used to." Something in Seregil's voice warned Alec that this, too, was a subject not to be pursued.

"What's this Cockerel place we're going to?"

"Home, Alec. And home is where we're bound tonight." Seregil hung the curry comb on a nail.

"Give me a minute to square things with Nysander, then come say goodbye."

Thero answered Seregil's knock. Exchanging their usual terse nods, they strode back through the stacks of manuscripts to the workroom. Walking behind the assistant wizard, Seregil read tension in the set of Thero's shoulders and smiled to himself.

There had never been any specific basis for their strong mutual dislike, yet it had sprung up full-blown the first time they'd laid eyes on each other. Out of regard for Nysander's feelings, a grudging truce had developed between them. Nonetheless, they'd never been at ease in the other's presence, though either one would have eaten fire before they'd admit it aloud.

Seregil considered himself to be above such petty emotions as jealousy or envy; so what if Thero had taken his place at Nysander's side, filling it better, in some respects, than he ever had?

Seregil had no reason to doubt Nysander's personal regard for him, or the importance of their professional association. His continuing dislike of Thero, he'd long since concluded, must be on a purely instinctual level, and thus irreconcilable and probably justified.

"He's downstairs," Thero informed him, returning to his work at one of the tables.

Nysander was still sitting pensively by the fire.

Leaning against the door frame, Seregil cleared his throat. "I was an idiot just now."

Nysander waved his apology aside. "Come in, please, and sit with me. Do you know, I was just trying to think how long it has been since you spent so many nights under this roof."

"Too long, I'm afraid."

Nysander regarded him with a sad smile.

"Too long indeed, if you could imagine that I would keep anything from you out of distrust."

Seregil shifted unhappily in his chair. "I know. But don't expect me to just nod and smile about it."

"Actually, I think you are taking it all rather well. Do you still plan to leave tonight?"

"I need to get back to work, and Alec's feeling a bit lost. The sooner we get busy, the better we'll both feel."

"Mind you pace him in his training," Nysander cautioned. "I should not like to see either of you with your hands on the executioner's block."

Seregil regarded his old friend knowingly. "You like him."

"Certainly," Nysander replied. "He possesses a keen mind and a noble heart."

"Surprised?"

"Only that you would take on such a responsibility at all. You have been solitary for so long."

"It was nothing I planned, believe me. But as I get to know him better, well—I don't know. I guess I'm

getting used to having him around."

Nysander studied his friend's face for a moment, then said gently, "He is very young, Seregil, and obviously has great respect and fondness for you. I trust you are aware of that?"

"My intentions toward Alec are perfectly honorable! You, of all people, ought to—"

"That is not what I was alluding to," Nysander replied calmly. "What I am saying is that you must consider more than his mere education. You should be a friend to him as well as a teacher. The time will come when the master must accept his pupil as an equal."

"That's the whole point, isn't it?"

"I am glad to hear you say so. But you must be honest with him, too." Nysander regarded him with sudden seriousness. "I know of at least one thing that he is not aware of. Why have you not told him of his true—?"

"I will!" Seregil whispered quickly, hearing Alec's step on the stairs. "I wasn't certain at first, and then things went to pieces. I just haven't found the right moment yet. He's had enough to contend with these last few weeks."

"Perhaps so, yet I confess I do not understand your reluctance. I wonder how he will react?"

"So do I," murmured Seregil. "So do I."

20 Homecoming

Tattered clouds were scudding across the face of the moon when Seregil and Alec set out for the Cockerel.

A bitter wind off the sea clattered through the trees along Golden Helm Street. The night lanterns grated on their hooks, making the shadows dance.

Intent on savoring his first night of freedom, Seregil had turned down Nysander's offer of horses, although he did concede to letting Alec carry the pack. As the wind whipped their hair and cloaks about, he was chilled but cheerful.

Rhнminee after dark. Beyond ornate walls and down shadowed alleys lay a thousand dangers, a thousand delights. Passing beneath a lantern, he saw a glimmer of familiar eagerness in Alec's eyes; perhaps, at last, he'd chosen well?

By the time they reached the Circle of Astellus, however, Seregil was forced to admit that his body had not recovered as fully as his spirit.

"I could do with a drink," he said, stepping into the shelter of the colonnade.

The lily-shaped capitals of the marble columns supported a carved pediment and dome.

Inside the colonnade, concentric circles of marble formed a series of steps leading down to the clear water welling up from a deep cleft in the rock below.

Kneeling, they pulled off their gloves and dipped up handfuls of sweet, icy water.

"You're shivering," Alec noted with concern. "We should've ridden."

"Walking's the best thing for me." Seregil sat back on the step and wrapped his cloak around him.

"Remember this night, Alec. Drink it in and commit it to memory! Your first night on the streets of Rhнminee!"

Settling beside him, Alec looked out at the wild beauty of the night and let out a happy sigh. "It feels like the beginning of something, all right, even though we've been here a week."

He paused, and Seregil saw that he was staring toward the Street of Lights. Across the circle, the dark outline of the archway and the colorful twinkle of lights beyond shone invitingly.

"I meant to ask you about something the other day," Alec said. "I'd forgotten about it until just now."

Seregil grinned at him in the darkness.

"Regarding what lies beyond that arch, I presume?

The Street of Lights, it's called. I guess you can see why."

Alec nodded. "A man told me the name the other day. Then he made some joke when I asked what the different colors mean."

"Said if you had to ask you were too young to know?"

"Something like that. What did he mean?"

"Beyond those walls, Alec, lie the finest brothels and gambling establishments in Skala."