"Not until you gave the warning," she replied. "It came out of nowhere."

"No, did you hear what she said?" he asked, getting shakily to his feet.

"She spoke to you?" Seregil asked excitedly. "By the Light, Alec, that was a khtir'bai. What did it say?"

Alec bent down and placed his hand easily inside one clawed paw print. It had been no apparition. "Same thing the rhui'auros told you," he replied in wonder." 'Smiles conceal knives. »

"At least they're consistent in their obscurity," grumbled Beka.

"I suspect we'll find out what it means soon enough," said Seregil.

Fog seeped up from the ground as they rode, collecting beneath the dark boughs and dripping coldly from the ends of long evergreen needles. Spiderwebs were woven across narrow places in the trail; they were all soon coated in sticky wet strands.

Just after midnight they reached a sizable village next to a small lake.

"The first change of horses for the dispatch riders is here, in a byre just beyond town," Beka whispered. "Do we dare make a change here, or cut around?"

Seregil slapped absently at a spider on his thigh. "We need the

horses. Dressed as we are, and at this hour, we should be safe enough. I doubt there's even a guard posted."

Just past the last small house they found a sagging lean-to, its cedar-shake roof thick with moss. Three sturdy horses were stabled inside. Dismounting, they shifted their saddles over, working by the light of Seregil's lightstone.

As they led the new mounts out, however, a sleepy young face appeared out of a pile of hay at the back of the byre. Beka grabbed quickly for Seregil's light, waving the others outside. Holding the light high to keep her face in shadow below the brim of her helmet, she faced the boy. He was sitting up now, regarding her with groggy interest; not a guard, just someone left to tend the horses.

He mumbled something, and she recognized the word for "messenger."

"Yes, sleep again," Beka replied in her broken Aurenfaie. Her knowledge of the language had improved, but she still understood more than she could say back. "Ours we leave."

"Is that you, Vanos?" the boy asked, craning his head for a look at Alec.

Alec whispered something back and quickly disappeared.

The boy squinted back up at Beka as she turned to go. "I don't know you."

Beka shrugged apologetically, as if she didn't understand, then pocketed the light and led her horse out.

The hay rustled behind her and she heard the boy mutter, "Cheap Skalan."

Just like home, Beka thought with amusement. Pulling a coin from her wallet, she flipped it in his direction.

"Now we've been seen," Alec muttered as they set off up the road again.

"Couldn't be helped," Seregil said. "He mistook us for the usual riders, and we'll be long gone before anyone comes looking for us."

"I hope you're right," Beka replied doubtfully.

Thero prowled the halls after Seregil and the others left. Only Braknil and Rhylin shared his vigil; as far as the others knew, Beka was on duty with the princess. Klia remained unconscious, mercifully oblivious as Mydri checked her mutilated hand repeatedly through the night, debating whether or not to cut more away.

From the beginning, their little delegation had rattled about the cavernous place like seeds in a dry gourd. Now, with so many missing or dead, the sense of emptiness was palpable. Thero strengthened the warding spells he'd laid about the place, then retreated to the colos. The fragrant night breeze across the back of his neck felt good as he took a lump of candle drippings from his pocket and set about warming it between his fingers. When it was soft, he divided it in two and took out his wand. Slipping off the two long strands of hair—one Seregil's, one Alec's—knotted around it, he kneaded each into one of the wax balls until it disappeared. Speaking the appropriate spells, he covered them with netted designs he made with the tip of his dagger. A red glow flared briefly at the center of each soft lump when he finished. Satisfied, he tucked them away for future use.

It was well past midnight now; a few scattered pinpricks of firelight glimmered in the distance. Imagining groups of friends or lovers awake together in the glow of those lights, he was suddenly overcome by a wave of loneliness. The people he trusted most were already miles away. Those whose trust he needed, here in this strange land, he must lie to, breaking honor to serve his princess.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, he settled himself more comfortably on the stone seat to meditate. Instead, his unruly imagination took him back to the mysterious vision he'd experienced during his first visit to the Nha'mahat. He absently smoothed the lap of his robe; the dragon bite had healed, but the marks left behind remained as an impressive reminder of that night's half-realized enlightenments.

Something landed on the back of his hand, startling him badly. Looking down, he saw that it was a little dragon no longer than his thumb. It clung to his knuckle with tickling claws and regarded him curiously.

He sat very still, wondering if the creature would bite. Instead, it folded its delicate wings against its sides and went to sleep, its smooth belly radiating welcome heat against his skin.

"Thank you," he murmured to it. "I can use the company."

The dragon's warmth spread up from his hand, warming him through. Smiling, he settled into a quiet meditation. When the inevitable uproar began, whatever form it took, he would need his wits about him.

39 PATHS DIVERGING

Clouds had rolled down out of the mountains during the night, and dawn brightened slowly behind a fine veil of rain. Beka licked at a sweet drop that spattered against her cheek, grateful for a taste of fresh water.

They'd ridden steadily all night, keeping to the main road to preserve the illusion of being routine couriers. Along the way, however, they had paused long enough to steal four extra horses. When the time came to part, not too long from now, she'd take the way-station horses with her to confuse the trail.

It was a good plan—she'd carried out similar ruses often enough against the Plenimarans—but for the past hour or so Seregil had been quiet, and spent too much time staring off into the thick forest along the roadside for her liking. Alec was watching him, too, sensing trouble.

Seregil reined in again so abruptly that her horse barreled into his.

"Damn it, what is it now?" she asked, pulling her horse's head around sharply as Seregil's spirited sorrel lashed out with its back hooves.

He said nothing, just gentled his mount and scanned an overgrown byway on their left. His expression was not encouraging.

"We've missed the side road you're looking for, haven't we?" Alec asked, and Beka heard the undertone of worry in his voice. There was good reason for alarm. Seregil was their only guide here, and it had been over half a lifetime since he'd traveled these roads.

Seregil shrugged. "Maybe. Or perhaps it's been abandoned since I last saw it, given what Amali said about villages dying out here." He glanced up at the brightening sky, and his tight-lipped frown deepened. "Come on, we've got to get off the main road soon. There are other ways to the trail."

The khirnari of Akhendi woke to the sound of someone lifting the latch of his chamber door. Heart pounding, he reached for the knife beneath his pillow and flung an arm out to protect Amali, only to find the other half of the bed empty.

His steward, Glamiel, slipped in with a candle and padded softly to his bedside.

"Where is my wife?" Rhaish demanded, clutching his aching chest.

"In the garden, Khirnari. She rose a little while ago."

"Of course." Sleep visited him so seldom these days and left him muddled when he woke. "What is it, then? It's not dawn yet."