Shivering in spite of his warm clothing, Alec looked back at the comet glimmering on the lip of the world. This might not be the night for the final ceremony, but it couldn't be far off now. Whatever schedule

Mardus was following, this comet was clearly a significant indicator. Somewhere on that dark shore lay their destination, and his death. It was only a short dash to the rail, he thought. If he moved quickly he could dodge the guards, take them by surprise. leap over.

And then what?

Alec could almost see Seregil frowning impatiently at him from the shadows.

Assuming that you could swim with your hands tied, there are probably only about two hundred soldiers over there, not to mention at least one necromancer. Or were you just planning to take a nice deep breath down there in the blackness?

And where, by the way, would any of that leave Thero?

Alec clenched his fists as desperation threatened to overwhelm him again. He wasn't ready to die, and he knew he couldn't abandon Thero. He had no idea how much of this whole business, if any, was actually the young wizard's fault; There's garbled confession had been too enmeshed in Irtuk's manipulations for Alec to give it full credence, though the doubt in his own mind was real enough. But guilty or not, he wouldn't leave him behind.

"You go now," one of his guards ordered, prodding him toward the last longboat.

It was too late to do anything but obey.

Illior and Dalna, gods of my parents, I beg your aid, he prayed silently, moving forward.

As he neared the rail, he caught sight of something lying half hidden in the shadow of a bulkhead in his path, something he'd long since given up all hope of finding.

A nail.

Two inches long, square forged and slightly bent with use, it lay in plain view less than five feet from where he stood.

For one awful moment Alec was certain the guards had seen it, too, that someone was sure to snatch it away if he so much as glanced back at it. Perhaps

Mardus himself had dropped it there, as a last cruel test.

There was only one way to find out.

The guard pushed him again, less gently this time.

Alec pretended to stumble, then fell flat on his face.

He landed hard, but when he opened his eyes the nail was within an inch of his nose. Shifting as if he were struggling to get up, he quickly rolled over the nail, caught it with his lips and teeth, and had it safely stowed in his cheek by the time the guards pulled him to his feet.

It was as simple as that.

"What's all the fuss about down there?" Beka asked, joining the scouts on the crest of the hill overlooking the Plenimaran camp.

The Plenimaran column had headed steadily north since Beka and her riders began shadowing them. After three days they'd stopped on this lonely stretch of plain overlooking the Inner Sea. Beka and her people kept their distance, using their Plenimaran shod horses for closer scouting so as to leave no enemy hoofprints to betray their presence.

For the past two days the Plenimarans had remained there with no apparent purpose. Just before sundown, however, a Plenimaran warship had sailed in from the west and dropped anchor.

"Looks like someone from the ship is putting ashore,"

Rhylin said, squinting into the last glare of sunset.

"I don't know what all the hoorah is, though.

They're all yelling and waving torches back and forth."

"Maybe that's it," Kallas whispered suddenly, pointing to the sky.

Looking up, the others saw a fiery streak of light moving slowly up the sky from the eastern horizon.

"Maker's Mercy, a plague star!" Jareel muttered, making a warding sign. "I'd take that for an omen if ever there was one,"

Rhylin said, making a sign of his own. "If that's what they're cheering about down there, then I don't like it."

Beka had never seen a comet, yet the sight of this one brought with it a strange feeling of recognition similar to the one she'd experienced when she'd first heard the sound of the surf a few nights before. This time it was stronger, more unsettling. There was also a vague impression of-tightness.

"Lieutenant?"

Beka turned to find the others regarding her solemnly in the failing light.

"Could you make out any insignia on the ship?" she asked.

"She was running without colors," Rhylin replied. "We didn't see any cargo come off her, either, just people. What do we do now?"

"We could go down for a closer look once it gets dark," Steb suggested hopefully.

"Urgazhi style, quick in, quick out," urged Rhylin, taking his part.

Beka considered their limited options carefully before answering. She shared their frustration, knew how badly they wanted to make a move. More than once in the days since they'd been dogging the column they'd caught glimpses of Gilly and Mirn among the crowd of prisoners, staggering along under the weight of the planks nailed across their shoulders, in the end, however, it still boiled down to the fact that they were just fourteen against a hundred or more.

She shook her head slowly. "Not yet. If they don't move out tomorrow I'll reconsider, but I can't afford to lose any more of you. For now we wait and if they move north again tomorrow, we'll follow."

Steb turned away angrily, and several others groaned.

"I guess nobody'll be going by ship!" exclaimed Rhylin, gesturing toward the sea again.

The anchored vessel was on fire. As they watched in amazement, the rigging caught fire and sheets of flame spread to the sails.

"Bilairy's Balls, they scuttled her!"

Jareel gasped. "A fire couldn't spread that quickly unless someone meant for it to. What the hell are they up to?"

Beka settled cross-legged on the grass, watching the reflection of the flames dancing across the water. "I guess we'll just have to stick with them until we find out."

The following morning Alec's guards woke him at dawn and led him to an iron cage mounted in the back of a small cart, the sort strolling players used to transport their trained animals. A thick mattress covered the floor of it, and there was a canvas awning over the top, but it still stank faintly of its former occupants.

Thero was already inside, seated cross-legged in the far corner. Like Alec, his hands were no longer tied, and he'd been allowed to keep his tunic and cloak.

"What a mangy pair of bear cubs," Ashnazai sneered, coming up to the bars behind Alec.

Alec moved away from him, although there wasn't really anywhere to go; the cage was only ten feet on a side.

"Lord Mardus is very busy now that we have landed, so I will be looking after you now," the necromancer went on.

He wrapped his hands around two of the bars, and Alec saw blue sparks dance over the iron, as if the cage had been struck by lightning. He jumped in alarm, and Ashnazai smiled his thin, unpleasant smile. In the clear light of the morning sun, his skin had a damp, unhealthy look, like the flesh of a toadstool.

"Don't you fear, dear Alec. My magic won't hurt you. Not unless you try to get out. And of course, you are far too intelligent to do anything so foolish."

Still smiling, he walked away. He looked like a winter scarecrow as the wind off the sea tugged at his dusty brown robe.

Hatred boiled in Alec's veins. Never in his life had he wanted so badly to kill a man.

When Ashnazai disappeared beyond a row of tents,

Alec turned his attention to the camp around him.

The back of the cart afforded a good view. From up here he could see the ranks of small white tents belonging to the soldiers and the herd of horses staked out beyond. The column that had met them on shore had at least fifty riders, as well as a crowd of people who were not in uniform and had the look of prisoners, although he was too far away to be certain. They had slept in we open under the watchful eye of swordsmen and archers. Mardus had brought at least a score of men of his own, making it a