The palimpsest, telling of a "Beautiful One" and leading to a crown surrounded by the dead. Micum's grim discovery in the Fens. The ragged leather pouch that Nysander had burned. And the coin, that deceptively prosaic wooden disk that had nearly killed him with madness and dreams-dreams of a barren plain and a golden-skinned creature that embraced him, demanding a single blue eye that winked from a wound over his heart. Voices singing-over a barren plain, and deep in the depths of a mountain cavern as blood dripped down to pool on the ice. Nysander's threat-a warning?

"Seregil, that hurts."

Alec's soft, tense voice brought him back and he found himself clutching the boy's shoulder. He hurriedly released him and sat back.

Alec closed cold fingers over his own. "What is it? You look like you've just seen your own ghost."

A desperate ache lanced through Seregil as he looked down into those dark blue eyes.

if you let slip the slightest detail Damn you, Nysander!

"I can't tell you, tali, because I'd only have to lie," he said, suddenly dejected. "I'm going to do something now, and you're going to watch and say nothing."

Taking the final page of the manuscript, he twisted it into a tight squib and tossed it into the fire.

Alec rocked back on his heels, watching in silent consternation as the parchment blossomed into flame.

When it was consumed, Seregil knocked the ash to bits with the poker.

"But what about Nysander?" Alec asked. "What will you tell him?"

"Nothing, and neither will you."

"But—"

"We're not betraying him." Seregil took Alec by the shoulders, more gently this time, drawing their faces close together. "You have my oath on that. I believe he already knows what we just learned, but he can't know that you know. Not until I tell you it's safe. Understand?"

"More secrets," Alec said, looking solemn and unhappy.

"Yes, more secrets. I need your trust in this, Alec. Can you give it?"

Alec looked sidelong at the fire for a long moment, then locked eyes with him again and replied in halting Aurenfaie, "Rei phoril tos tokun meh brithir, vri sh 'ruit 'ya.»

Though you thrust your dagger at my eyes, I will not flinch. A solemn oath, and one Seregil had pledged him not so long ago. Seregil let out a small, relieved laugh. "Thank you. If you don't mind, I think I'll take a rest. Why don't you go have a look through those books we found?"

Alec got up to go without a word. But he paused in the doorway, looking back at Seregil still sitting by the fire.

"What does tali mean? Is it Aurenfaie?"

"Tali?"

A ghost of the old grin tugged at one corner of Seregil's mouth. "Yes, it's an Aurenfaie term of endearment, rather old-fashioned, like beloved. Where'd you pick that up?"

"I thought—"

Alec regarded him quizzically, then shook his head. "I don't know, at one of the salons, probably. Sleep well, Seregil."

"You, too."

When Alec was gone, Seregil walked to the window and rested his forehead against one cold pane, staring out over the dark garden.

Stone within ice. Secrets within secrets.

Silences inside of greater silences.

In all the time he'd known Nysander, he had never felt such distance between them. Or so alone.

Several days passed before Alec realized that they were not going to talk of the matter again. Despite his oath, it troubled him greatly. This silence toward the wizard seemed to create a small cold gap in a relationship that had been so seamlessly warm and safe.

For the first time in months he found himself wondering about Seregil's loyalties.

Try as he might to banish such thoughts, they nagged at him until at last he came out with it as they were out walking in the Noble Quarter one evening.

He'd feared that Seregil would evade the question or be annoyed. Instead, he looked as if he'd been expecting this discussion.

"Loyalty, eh? That's a large question for a thinking person. If you're asking if I'm still loyal to Nysander, then the answer is yes, for as long as I have faith in his honor. The same goes for any of my friends."

"But do you still have faith in him?" Alec pressed.

"I do, though he hasn't made it easy lately. You're too smart not to have noticed that there are unspoken things between him and me. I'm trying hard to be patient about all that, and so must you.

"But maybe that's not the real issue here. Are you losing faith in me?"

"No!" Alec exclaimed hastily, knowing the words were true as he spoke them. "I'm just trying to understand."

"Well, like I said, loyalty is no simple thing. For instance, would you say that you, Nysander, and I are loyal to Queen Idrilain and want to act in the best interests of Skala?"

"I've always thought so."

"But what if the Queen ordered us, for the good of Skala, to do harm to Micum? Should I keep faith with her or with him?"

"With Micum," Alec replied without hesitation.

"But what if Micum, without our knowledge, had committed treason against Skala? What then?"

"That's ridiculous!" Alec snorted. "He'd never do anything like that."

"People can surprise you, Alec. And perhaps he did it out of loyalty to something else, say his family. He's kept faith with his family but broken faith with the Queen. Which outweighs the other?"

"His family," Alec maintained, although he was beginning to feel a bit confused.

"Certainly. Any man ought to hold his family above all else. But what if his justified act of treason cost hundreds of other families their lives? And what if some of those killed were also friends of ours—Myrhini, Cilia, There. Well, maybe not Thero—"

"I don't know!" Alec shrugged uncomfortably.

"I can't say one way or the other without knowing the details. I guess I'd just have to have faith in him until I knew more. Maybe he didn't have any choice."

Seregil leveled a stern finger at him. "You always have a choice. Don't ever imagine you don't. Whatever you do, it's a decision and you have to accept responsibility for it. That's when honor becomes more than empty words."

"Well, I still say I'd have to know why he did it," Alec retorted stubbornly.

"That's good. But suppose, despite all his kindness to you, you discovered he really had betrayed your trust. Would you hunt him down and kill him as the law required?"

"How could I?"

"It would be difficult. Past kindness counts for something. But say you knew for certain that someone else would catch him—the Queen's officers, for instance—and that they'd kill him slowly and horribly. Then wouldn't it be your duty, as a friend and a man of honor, to see to it that he was granted a quick, merciful death? Looked at from that angle, I suppose killing Micum Cavish might be the greatest expression of friendship."

Alec stared at Seregil, mouth slightly ajar. "How the hell did we come to me killing Micum?"

Seregil shrugged. "You asked about loyalty. I told you it wasn't easy."