"Oh, Alec," Seregil muttered. His own reputation as a clever intriguer was founded on more fortuitous discoveries of this sort than he liked to admit, but he'd always been careful to capitalize on them by making it look intentional after the fact.

"There's a certain logic in what she said," Thero offered. "Perhaps it was better having a friend doing the spying than an enemy."

Beka stalked angrily to the window. "I'm aware of that. If Phoria had given me the same order—" She slammed her hand against the sill. "No! No, damn it! I'd have found a way to tell Klia, protect her. By the Flame, how could Phoria do this? It sounds as if she was counting on her mother's death."

Thero shook his head sadly. "My friends, I believe we are seeing the beginnings of a new era for Skala, one we may not like very much."

"We can worry about that later," Seregil said. "Right now we have enough problems. We'll leave as soon as it's dark."

Beka turned to look at him. "What are we going to tell your sisters?"

"Let me speak to them." Seregil ran a hand back through his hair and sighed, not relishing the prospect of such a farewell.

38 TRAITOR'S MOON

Seregil put off going to his sisters until nightfall, though they were never far from his thoughts. He and Alec had made most of their stealthy preparations separately, ostensibly to avoid notice. The truth was, he'd needed some small part of this leave-taking to himself.

Alone in the bedchamber that afternoon, he found himself working too quickly as he gathered what little he needed for the journey: his mail shirt, warm Aurenfaie clothes, a water skin, his tools.

Corruth's ring bumped gently against his chest as he worked. He paused a moment and pressed a hand over it, knowing he'd thrown away any chance he might have had to wear it with honor. He was already an outlaw.

A sudden wave of dizziness forced him down on the edge of the bed. It had been easy enough to keep up a front for the others; dissembling was one of his greatest talents. But alone now, he felt something inside break, sharp and hurtful as one of the shattered glass orbs from his visions. Pressing a hand over his eyes, he fought back the tears seeping beneath his tightly closed lids.

"I'm right. I know I'm right!" he whispered. He was the only one Korathan would listen to.

But you 're not so certain as you 've let on that he'll agree, are you?

Shamed by his momentary weakness, he wiped his face and pulled his poniard from his bedroll, savoring the familiar weight of its hilt against his palm. Beka had kept this and his dagger for him since they landed in Gedre. He tested the edges of the slender blade with a thumbnail, then slipped it into the knife pocket in his boot; another proscription broken.

If he failed? Well then, his failure would be gloriously complete. He hadn't protected Klia. He hadn't caught the assassins. Now he was probably throwing away his life, and Alec's in the bargain, to forestall Phoria's insane act of aggression.

Even if they did succeed, what awaited them in Skala? What sort of a queen ruled there now, and how glad would she be to see her sister safely home?

Another question lurked below all the others, one he had no intention of examining until he was well away from Aurenen—

forever

– a question he planned to spend the rest of his life avoiding.

what if—?

No!

Tossing his pack on the bed, he made a quick circuit of the room, focusing on its remaining contents. Whatever he left behind he wasn't likely to see again. No matter. He was about to go when the soft glint of silver caught his eye amid a pile of clothing next to the bed. Bending down, he fished out the vial of lissik the rhui'auros had given him.

"Might as well have something to show for my troubles," he mumbled, slipping it into a belt pouch.

The first lamps were being lit when he finally slipped next door. Alec hadn't offered to come, bless him, just given him a quick, knowing embrace.

Both Adzriel and Mydri were at home. Taking them aside into a small sitting room, he shut the door and leaned against it.

"I'm leaving Sarikali tonight."

Mydri was the first to recover. "You can't!"

Adzriel silenced her with a glance, then searched her brother's face with sorrow-filled eyes. "You do this for Klia?"

"For her. For Skala. For Aurenen."

"But it's teth'sag if you leave the city," Mydri said.

"Only for me," he told her. "I'm still outcast, so Bokthersa can't be held accountable."

"Oh, tali," Adzriel said softly. "With all you've done here, you might have won your name back in time."

There it was, that question he'd buried alive.

"Perhaps, but at too high a price," he told her.

"Then tell us why!" Mydri pleaded.

He gathered the two women close, suddenly needing their arms around him, their tears hot against his neck.

O Aural he cried silently, clinging to them. It was so tempting to let them convince him, to take it all back and simply wait out the inevitable here, as close to home as he was ever likely to get in this life. If Klia were taken hostage, perhaps he'd even be allowed to stay with her.

It hurt. By the Light, it hurt to leave that embrace, but he had to, before it was too late.

"I'm sorry, but I can't explain," he told them. "You couldn't maintain atui if you had to keep my secret. All I ask is that you say nothing until tomorrow. Later, when everything's sorted, I'll explain, I swear. But I promise you now, by the khi of our parents, that what I'm doing is honorable and right. A wise man warned me that I'd have to make choices. This is the right one, even if it's not what I'd hoped."

"Wait here, then." Adzriel turned and hurried from the room.

"You little fool!" Mydri hissed, glaring at him again. "After all it took to bring you here, you do this to her? To me?"

Seregil caught her hand and pressed it over his heart. "You're a healer. Tell me what you feel," he challenged, meeting her anger with his own. "Is it joy? Betrayal? Hatred for you or my people?"

She went still, and he felt heat spread slowly across his skin beneath her palm. "No," she whispered. "No, Haba, I feel none of that. Only resolve, and fear."

Seregil laughed a little at that. "More fear than resolve just now."

Mydri pulled him close again, hugging him hard. "You're still a fool, Haba, but you've grown into a fine, good man in spite of it. Aura watch over you always and everywhere."

"Our other sisters will hate me for this."

"They're bigger fools even than you," she said with a tearful laugh, pushing him away. "Adzriel's the only one of the five of us worth a peddler's pot."

Laughing outright, he thanked her with a kiss.

Adzriel returned with a long, slender bundle in her arms. "We

meant to give you this when you left. It seems the time has come, if a bit sooner than I'd anticipated." Folding back the cloth wrappings at the upper end, she presented him with the hilt of a sword.

Seregil reached without thinking, closing his hand around the leather and wire-wrapped grip. With a single smooth motion he pulled the blade free of its scabbard.

Polished steel caught the light like dark silver. A grooved fuller ran down the center of the blade, making it both strong and light. Tapered cross guards curved gracefully toward the blade, good for catching an opponent's sword.

Seregil's breath caught in his throat as he hefted it. It moved perfectly in his hand, just heavy enough, and balanced by the weight of its round, flat pommel.

"Akaien made this, didn't he?" he asked, recognizing his uncle's hand in the sword's clean, strong lines.

"Of course," Adzriel replied. "We knew that you wouldn't want Father's, so he made this for you. After seeing how you lived in Rhiminee, I suspected you wouldn't want anything too ornate."