"And a damned uncomfortable seat that is," Seregil grumbled.

"I agree. And perhaps a dangerous one now. We must all live cautiously for a time."

"I can keep an eye on Alec, if that's the way you want it, but what about Micum?"

"I placed a number of protective spells around the three of you as soon as you came back from the north. Since then someone has tried to break through those surrounding you and Alec a few times, but—"

"What?" An icy stab of fear lanced through Seregil's chest. "You never—"

"I was not surprised by such attempts," Nysander told him calmly, "and they have failed, of course. The spells surrounding all of you are intact, making it impossible for you to be seen magically. Thus far, there have been no disturbances in the spells surrounding Micum or his family."

"Bilairy's Balls! Do you know who was doing this?"

"Unfortunately, the seekers are equally well shielded. Their magic is very strong and they know how to protect themselves."

"I don't like this. I don't like this at all," muttered Seregil. "There are more ways than magic to find someone. Hell, Rhal showed up, didn't he? Who's to say Mardus or his dogs haven't, too? Poor Alec had no idea how to cover his tracks."

"Whatever happens, you must not blame the boy," cautioned Nysander.

"Who said anything about blame?" Seregil ran his fingers back through his hair in frustration. "He did a damn fine job, given the circumstances. He saved my life. Now it's up to me to protect him. And Micum; knowing what I do, I'm honor-bound to give him any warning I can."

Seregil braced for further argument, but instead, Nysander sighed and nodded. "Very well, but only as much as is absolutely necessary."

"Fair enough. Damn, they'll be wondering where we are by now." Seregil rose to go back upstairs, but Nysander remained where he sat.

"Seregil?"

He turned back to find Nysander regarding him sadly.

"I hope, dear boy, that no matter what the coming days bring, you will believe I never foresaw this time coming during my Guardianship, or that its advent would enmesh any of you."

Seregil gave him a grudging grin. "You know, I've spent most of my life listening to legends or telling them. It should be interesting being part of one. I only hope the bards who tell it years from now will be able to end with 'And the Band of Four all lived with great honor for many years thereafter'."

"As do I, dear boy. As do I. Make some excuse for me, would you? I would like to sit here for a while."

Silence closed in around Nysander after Seregil had gone. With his hands resting on his knees before him, he allowed himself to go limp in the chair, listening to the sound of his breathing and his heart until he was aware of nothing else. Then, slowly, he opened himself to the invisible currents of foreseeing, using the faces of his three chosen comrades to call in the energies he sought. Grey images stirred sluggishly before his mind's eye, the tangled flux of Shall/Might/Should.How to pluck crumbs of truth from a future as yet unfixed-

The hands of Tikarie Megraesh, the icon of his dreams and visions, opened before him. Voices came faintly through the murk, shouting, raging, weeping. He could hear the clash of weapons, men shouting.

Then, harsh as a blow, came the vision of a black disk surrounded by a thin white nimbus of fire. It seemed to glare at him like an accusing eye.

A familiar perfume wafted out to Seregil as he neared the workroom door. Opening it, he found Ylinestra sitting next to Magyana. A quick glance revealed an interesting tableau around the breakfast table. As usual, Ylinestra looked intentionally stunning as she chatted with Magyana, with her shining black hair braided loosely over one shoulder of her loose-flowing gown.

Magyana appeared to be a willing conversationalist, but Seregil thought he detected faint lines of distaste around her eyes. Feeya was not so subtle. She'd moved to the other end of the table and stood eyeing the sorceress with evident dislike.

Thero seemed torn between embarrassment and lust.

Alec stood at what might be considered a safe distance from his former seducer, carrying on some earnest conversation with Hwerlu.

All eyes turned Seregil's way as he entered.

"Ah, here they are," said Magyana. "But where is Nysander?"

"Oh, he got distracted by something down in his study," Seregil replied.

"How unfortunate," sighed Ylinestra. "I was hoping I could lure him out to the gardens for a while."

"You know how he is. He's likely to be a while."

"I'll tell him you were looking for him," Thero offered a trifle stiffly. "In the meantime, perhaps

I—"

"Ah well, another time," Ylinestra said breezily, gliding to the door.

When she was gone Feeya whistled something to Hwerlu, who laughed. "She says the smell of the woman makes her belly hurt," he translated.

"Mine, as well," Magyana agreed with a mischievous smile. "Although I daresay most men find the scent alluring enough. She must be missing Nysander. That's the third time this week she's come looking for him. Isn't that right, Thero?"

"I don't keep track," the young wizard said with a shrug. "If you'll all excuse me, I've got work of my own I'd better get started on."

Alec chuckled as he and Seregil set off for the Cockerel again. "I'll bet you a sester he waits until everyone else clears out, then goes after her."

"That's a loser's bet," Seregil said with a crooked grin. "I've never seen it fail; when a cold fish like Thero finally does fall in love, it makes a total fool of him."

"You know, I think you're too hard on him."

"Is that so?"

Alec shrugged. "I didn't care much for him at first, either, but now he doesn't seem so bad. He helped save our lives during that raid on Kassarie's keep, and he was useful during that whole business with Rythel, too. Since then, he's been almost friendly. Nysander may be right about him, after all. As arrogant and cold as he can seem, underneath I don't think he's so bad."

Seregil gave Alec a skeptical grin.

"You've a charitable nature. We've got more important things to worry about than Thero right now, though. I'll explain it once we get home."

They both rode with hoods pulled forward, but Alec guessed even without seeing his friend's face that something of note had come up during Seregil's separate conversation with Nysander.

"What is it?" he asked, unable to guess from

Seregil's guarded tone whether the matter was likely to be a job or a problem.

Seregil shook his head. "Not here."

They spoke little the rest of the way back to the inn, but Alec noted that the route they took to approach it was more cautiously circuitous than usual.

Thryis hailed them as they passed the kitchen door.

"I didn't hear you go out," she said, sharpening knives by the fireside. "Rhiri brought in a message for you last night, but it wasn't sent for the Rhiminee Cat. It's there on the mantelpiece behind the salt box."

Seregil found it, a coarse square of paper tied with greasy twine and sealed with candle drippings.

"Anything else?" asked Seregil, bending down to tickle Luthas, who sat playing with a wooden spoon at his great-grandmother's feet.

"No, nothing."

"How many are there in the inn today?"

"I think this wind's blown all our customers away," the old woman grumbled, testing the edge of a cleaver against her thumbnail. "There were those six draymen in the big room, but they left first thing this morning. All we've got left now is a horse trader and his son in the room at the front and a cloth merchant in for the spring trade. I've never seen it so slack this time of year. I sent Cilia and Diomis out to see what's what down at the market."

Suddenly Luthas startled them all with an angry squall.