Sobbing, Alec clung to his friend's body until the soldiers cut it loose from the bars and dragged it from his grasp.

Ashnazai looked down at him with disdain. "That was most enjoyable. Your turn comes soon, but not so mercifully. But then, you know that, I think."

It had been an illusion, just another of

Ashnazai's tricks.

Alec repeated this over and over to himself as the cart rumbled north the next day.

But the dried blood on his hands and clothing was real enough. So were the stains on the canvas ticking of the mattress and the wood at the back of the cart where Seregil had fallen.

Seregil is dead.

It was an illusion.

Seregil is dead.

It was—

His grief was too deep for tears. It was so vast that it blotted out everything else. He couldn't eat or sleep or take in his surroundings. Hunched in a corner of the cage, he clasped his hands around his knees and rested his head on them, shutting out the world.

Seregil is dead.

As the flat, empty day wore on, Alec often felt Ashnazai's gloating gaze on him, sipping at his anguish like wine. He kept his eyes averted, unable to bear the sight of that smug, satisfied smile. The necromancer bided his time, keeping his distance until the afternoon.

"The guards tell me you eat and drink nothing all day," he said, riding beside him.

Alec ignored him.

"Too bad not to keep up your strength," Ashnazai went on airily. "Perhaps a diversion will cheer you. The scouts found a cave where we will make camp.

After so many days of this cage—so drafty, so many eyes looking—a snug cave will be nice for you, eh?

It will be most, how do you say—?"

He paused. "Most cozy."

His parting laugh left no doubt that something particularly unpleasant was in the offing. Alec shivered, partly out of dread, partly from a sudden burst of excitement. This could be his final chance for escape.

He gazed out over the ocean, trying to imagine how many miles lay between him and Rhiminee.

Nysander was dead.

Seregil was dead.

Cilia. Diomis. Thryis. Rhiri.

The names fell like stones against his heart. If he couldn't get away tonight, then he'd just as soon die trying.

Sometimes total despair was the best substitute for hope.

The column halted for the night at the base of a small cliff surrounded by forest. Below the road, the ground fell way sharply to sea ledges.

By this point, Alec had taken stock of his limited options. Somewhere to the north lay the Mycenian border. If he did manage to get free tonight, it was the only direction worth going. If he followed the coast, it improved his chances of meeting friendly forces. It meant fleeing with Thero in tow and Mardus close behind, but if he could elude him, stay concealed and some distance ahead, then maybe they had a chance.

If not, he'd put up a fight.

When the column showed signs of stopping for the night he quickly transferred the precious nail from the seam of his tunic into his mouth and stood at the bars, watching. The wagoneer drove the bear cart some way apart from the main camp as usual, trundling to a halt at the ledges on the seaward side of the trail. Their position, Alec noted with growing hope, had the added advantage of being to the north of the main camp, which meant fewer pickets between him and freedom.

Ashnazai was taking no chances. Half a dozen armed guards came to escort the prisoners to their new quarters. The cave was a rough, deep fissure beneath a shelf of ledge overlooking the sea. It was damp, but large enough for a man to stand up in. A stout iron staple had been driven into a crack in the back wall and two lengths of heavy chain hung from it.

One of the guards asked something in Plenimaran. The necromancer answered at some length and his men laughed, then looped the end of a chain around Alec's neck and secured it with a padlock.

"He asked if I wished you shackled by the leg," Ashnazai told Alec. "I told him, "An animal will chew off a limb to escape a trap but I think even this clever young thief cannot chew off his own head."

Still chuckling darkly at the voron's little joke, the guards chained Thero in the same fashion while Vargul Ashnazai looked on with obvious satisfaction.

"That should hold you nicely," he said, giving the staple a final tug. "I suggest you waste no effort in trying to free yourself from these bonds. Even if you did somehow manage to do so, you would find your way blocked by things more dangerous than chains or guards. Rest now, while you can."

Favoring Alec with another sly, repulsive smile, he added, "Our time together grows short. I look forward to making this a memorable evening for us all."

Hatred welled up in Alec's throat like bile.

Ashnazai was only a few feet away, well within the reach of the chain. Alec clenched his fists at his sides and mumbled, "I won't forget you anytime soon."

Ashnazai followed the guards out through the low opening, then turned and wove a series of symbols in the air in front of it. He walked away out of sight, but Alec could see at least two guards stationed outside. They spoke among themselves in low, bantering voices, their shadows passing across the entrance as they kindled a watch fire and settled down to the night's vigil.

With one eye on the entrance, Alec spat the nail out into his hand and set to work. First he examined the lock they'd used on Thero's chain. It was large and sturdy, but he recognized the design as one of only moderate complexity.

With the proper tool, he amended mentally. The nail was not a particularly delicate instrument for such work, but it did fit inside the keyhole. Closing his eyes, he gently worked it in against the wards until he felt them give way. There were four in all; it took several tense minutes to jigger them, but at last the lock fell open in his hand. He left the curved link holding Thero's chain in place. Anyone coming in for a quick look would be none the wiser so long as it was turned around to the back of his neck. He did the same with his own, then turned his attention to Thero's other restraints.

The lock at the back of the branks was too small for his crude pick. Shifting Thero into the faint light from the watch fire, he inspected the iron wristbands.

They were seamless, presumably put on by magic.

Though too snug to slip off over Thero's hands, they turned easily on his bony wrists. Alec could easily slip a finger into the space between arm and band.

Perhaps, he smiled darkly to himself, the bands had been tighter before two weeks of abuse and scant rations had taken their toll. Apparently no one, not even Mardus, had taken that into account.

Looking up, he found Thero staring at him. It sent a chill over his heart. Irtuk Beshar had made a speaking puppet of the wizard before; who was it now, looking at him out of those foggy eyes?

"Thero," he whispered, taking one of the man's cold hands in his own. "Do you know me? Can you understand what I say?"

Thero gave no sign of understanding, but his gaze did not waver.

Alec shook his head, hardening his resolve. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain. If the dyrmagnos was spying on him through Thero's eyes and alerted Mardus, then he'd just shed a little of his own blood and force their hand tonight.

"I've had enough, Thero. I'm done going along like a sheep to slaughter," he went on softly, tearing a strip from his tunic and tucking it around the mouth plate of the branks. Thero offered no resistance as Alec moved the crude gag into place.

"You need to keep quiet no matter what happens next, all right? You hear? No matter what, don't make a sound."

Alec stood up and grasped Thero's thumbs firmly. Placing his foot against the young wizard's chest, he took a deep breath and yanked the thumbs with all his strength, twisting sharply as he pulled.