"By the Flame, he's been restless all morning," Thryis sighed. "Must be another tooth coming."

"I'll get him." Alec scooped up the child, bouncing him gently in his arms, but the child howled on. "You're wanting your mother, aren't you, dear one?"

Thryis smiled, offering him his spoon. But Luthas knocked it away and cried louder, squirming like an eel.

"Find me that rag of his," Alec called to Seregil over the uproar.

Rummaging in the nearby cradle, Seregil found a colorful kerchief with a knot tied in the middle and held that within reach. Luthas grabbed it and stuffed the knot in his mouth, chewing at it with a decidedly disgruntled air. After a moment he relaxed drowsily against Alec's shoulder.

"You're quite the nursemaid these days," whispered Seregil.

"Oh, they're great friends, these two," Thryis said fondly.

Alec was just attempting to lay the child in his cradle when Rhiri stamped in, slamming the door behind him.

Luthas jerked awake, crying ferociously.

The mute ostler gave Alec an apologetic nod, then pulled a small scroll tube from his jerkin and handed it to Seregil.

"Come on!" groaned Seregil, motioning for Alec to follow.

Back in their disordered sitting room again, Seregil flopped down on the couch and opened the scroll tube, which contained a jeweled ring and the usual request for the Cat's services. Setting these aside with an impatient sniff, he cut the string on the folded paper and smoothed it out on his knee.

"Well now, here's a bit of good news," he exclaimed happily. "Listen to this. "In Rhiminee Harbor, awaiting your pleasure. Ask for Welken at the Griffin." It's signed "Master Rhal, captain of the Green Lady," and dated yesterday."

"Yesterday? We'd better get down there."

"Another hour won't matter." His smile faded as he waved Alec to a chair. "We've got something else to deal with first."

Alec sat down, studying Seregil's face uneasily; he didn't look happy. "First, you have to swear secrecy under your oath as a Watcher," Seregil began with uncharacteristic gravity.

A thrill of anticipation went through Alec as he nodded. "I swear. What's going on?"

"Those dreams of yours, with the headless arrow shaft? They meant something to Nysander. To me, too, really, the moment you told me about it last night, but I had to have Nysander hear it to be certain."

"Of what?" Alec asked uneasily.

"There's so much to tell you, it's hard to know where to begin." Seregil studied his clasped hands for a moment. "That first night we came here, I went out again."

"To the Temple of Illior."

"That's right, but I never told you why I went there, did I?"

"No, never."

"I went hoping the Oracle could tell me something about that wooden disk we brought back from Wolde."

Seregil touched a hand to his breast where the hidden brand lay.

Alec stared at him in disbelief. "Does Nysander know?"

"He does now, but that's not the point. The Oracle didn't tell me anything specific about the disk, but he did say something that I know now was a piece of a prophecy. He spoke of the Eater of Death—"

"Just like in the journal we found, and at the Mourning Night ceremony."

"Yes, and then he told me I was to guard three people he called the Guardian, the Vanguard, and the Shaft. And there's a fourth, the Unseen One or Guide. That's me, it seems, and Nysander's the Guardian. After hearing about your dream, we think you might be—"

"The Shaft," Alec said softly, remembering the headless arrow and the feeling of helplessness he always felt at the sight of it.

"Apparently Nysander has had some presentiment that Micum is the Vanguard."

"But the Eater of Death is Seriamaius." He saw Seregil flinch as he said the name aloud. "This Shaft and Guardian business, it's connected somehow. Oh, wait a minute—"

Alec's belly twisted into a queasy knot. "That disk, that damned wooden disk that made you so sick and crazy. That's what you went to the Oracle to ask about, so it must have something to do with the prophecy."

"It does," said Seregil. "But what, I don't know. Nysander won't say, except that the disk is part of something bigger, something the Plenimarans are willing to go to any lengths to get. When I went away just before the Festival of Sakor, it was to get another object before the Plenimarans did, a sort of crown. It had the same sort of evil magic about it, only worse." His face darkened as some memory surfaced. "Much worse, and much more dangerous. But I got it."

"There were other disks just like the one we stole," Alec recalled, his mind racing. "Maybe they had to be all together to have their full effect."

"That's right. Which means if we'd been greedy and taken them all, you and I probably wouldn't have made it as far as Boersby. I've wanted to tell you all this before, but Nysander swore me to silence. I wouldn't be telling you now, except that you seem to be part of it, too."

"Of what?" demanded Alec. "What does the Shaft do? If Nysander has the disk and the crown, then the Plenimarans aren't going to get them and whatever they're part of can't happen, right?"

"I guess that's the idea. But why would you be having these dreams now, if that's all there is to it, eh?"

"Do you think Mardus could still be after us? Bilairy's Balls. Seregil, if Rhal could find us, then why not him?"

Seregil shrugged. "It's not impossible. He didn't strike me as the sort who gives up easily. But why hasn't he shown up yet? It's been months now, and if he had any idea that we have the crown as well, then he or somebody like him will be certain to come after it sooner or later. There's something else, too. You remember Micum's description of the ritual sacrifice he found up in the Fens?"

"All those bodies cut open," Alec said with a small shudder.

"I found the same sort of thing with the crown. All the bodies were ancient there, but the mutilations were the same, breastbone split, ribs pulled back like wings. Now Nysander claims that all this may come to nothing, that there have always been Guardians and Shafts and so forth chosen just in case. But he didn't sound all that confident. That's why I'm telling you this, and why we've got to warn Micum. I want you to ride out there tomorrow and tell him just what I've told you."

"What about you?"

Seregil smiled darkly. "There are a few old mates of Tym's I'd like to have a chat with. If Plenimarans are getting into Rhiminee, then someone has got to know about it."

"They covered their tracks pretty well with that business in the sewers," Alec reminded him.

"Except for Rythel. There's almost always a Rythel in any plot. When you get to Watermead, what I've told you is for Micum's ears alone. Do whatever you can to get him alone but try not to raise suspicion. Kari usually knows when something's up. And ask him about his dreams while you're at it, although I expect he'll scoff.

"It's a lot to take in, I know. Like I said, Nysander claims this may all come to nothing, but I don't think he really believes it. I know I don't."

Half-realized images whirled through Alec's mind, too chaotic to grasp. Yet bits and pieces seemed to stand forth from the general maelstrom, like branches in an eddy. "So Nysander has at least two pieces of whatever this thing is: the disk and the crown. But there must be something else, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if he's been the Guardian all these years, then what's he guarding?"

Seregil's eyes widened in surprised realization.

"That's a good question. But somehow I doubt we'll ever know."

Resuming their roles of Lord Seregil and Sir Alec for the day, they emerged from the Wheel Street villa at midday and rode down to the lower city to inspect a certain privateering vessel anchored just beyond the quays. They found Rhal's man still waiting at the Griffin. A day and night spent in a tavern notwithstanding, he was still sober enough to row them out to the ship.