"It is, Khirnari. Amali gave orders that your rest not be disturbed, but there's been strange news this morning." Glamiel went to the tall windows and pulled back the hangings. Grey light filled the room, and the smell of rain. Looking out through the flowering boughs that framed the casement, Rhaish saw his wife sitting alone beneath an arbor. She'd wept last night, imploring him again to explain his silence and his anger. What could he have told her?

Distracted, he missed the first part of Glamiel's news and had to ask him to repeat it.

"The Skalans sent out a dispatch rider last night," the man told him.

"What of it?"

"As you say, Khirnari, no one thought anything of it, until word came in just now from the first way station that neither of the Akhendi escorts gave the usual signal, and that the Skalan rider was one the boy had never seen before. One of the escorts claimed to be Vanos i Namal, but he's still at the Skalan barracks. I've spoken with him myself. So are all the others assigned to guide the Skalans. What should we do?"

"How long ago did you get word of this?"

"Just now, Khirnari. Should Brythir i Nien be informed of this?"

"No. Not until we learn what our Skalan friends are up to." After

a moment's consideration, he added, "Send for Seregil. I wish to speak with him at once."

Alone again, Rhaish sagged back against his pillows as an image rose to his mind's eye: Seregil skillfully slitting the dead fish, extracting the ring with as much certainty as if he'd known it was there all along. And earlier, in the garden, he'd searched so intently, so efficiently. At the time it had been gratifying, astonishing. Now the memory filled him with unease.

The cold kiss of a rain-laden breeze woke Thero. Outside the colos, a morning shower pattered down on the roof tiles and voices drifted up to him from the street below. Catching Seregil's name, he sent a sighting spell that way and discovered Mirn and Steb speaking with an Akhendi man he didn't recognize.

"I haven't seen Lord Seregil yet this morning," Mirn was saying. "I'll tell him Lord Rhaish is looking for him as soon as he comes down."

"It's a matter of some urgency," the Akhendi replied.

Here we go, then, Thero thought. Hurrying down to Seregil's abandoned room, he latched the door after him. None too soon, either, as it turned out. The latch lifted, then jiggled against the lock pin.

"Seregil, you're wanted downstairs." It was Kheeta, damn the luck. A servant could be put off with a curt response. "Are you awake? Seregil? Alec?"

Thero passed his hand quickly over the bed, willing a memory, any memory, from it. The bed let out a rhythmic creaking, accompanied by a throaty masculine moan. The wizard fell back a pace, annoyed. He'd expected snoring, but supposed he should have known better.

The sounds had the desired effect, however. There was a meaningful silence on the far side of the door, then the tactful retreat of footsteps.

Wasting no time, Thero took out the wax balls he'd prepared the night before, pinched them man-shaped, and placed them beneath the edge of the coverlet. Weaving shapes on the air with his wand, Thero hummed tonelessly under his breath, remembering faces, limbs, the shapes of hands and feet. The wax simulacra swelled and lengthened beneath the blankets. By the time he finished they had a fair likeness of Seregil and Alec but were still stiff and expressionless. Laying a finger on Seregil's cold brow, Thero blew into his nostrils. Color suffused the pallid cheeks, and the features relaxed into something like sleep. He did the same with Alec's double, then arranged the pair into a sleeping pose. Summoning more memories from shared nights on the road, he added the steady rise and fall of breath, with the lightest of snores from Alec. With any luck and a bit of delicacy on the part of servants, this might buy them a few more precious hours.

He left the door unlatched and made his way down to the main hall, where Kheeta was making excuses to their Akhendi visitor.

"Good morning," Thero said, coming forward to greet their guest. "What brings you here at this hour?"

The man bowed. "Greetings, Thero i Procepios. Amali a Yassara wishes to examine the Akhendi charm Seregil brought her. She is feeling quite strong this morning."

The charm! Thero reached for the pouch at his belt, then frowned. Seregil had had it last; in all the confusion caused by Magyana's letter, Thero hadn't thought to get it back from him.

"You should have said so!" exclaimed Kheeta, already halfway to the stairway again. "I'm sure they won't mind being disturbed for that."

"Let me," Thero said quickly, regretting his own ruse. "I'll send him to you as soon as he's" — here he gave Kheeta a hard look— "awake."

"There; this is the one," Seregil called out happily, squinting down yet another unremarkable side road.

Beka stifled a groan. Except for the flock of kutka pecking morning grit in the tall grass, it looked just like all the other sidetracks he'd halted for this morning.

"The last one you were this sure of cost us half an hour's ride in the wrong direction," Alec pointed out, far more patiently than Beka could have managed.

"No, this is the one," he insisted. "See that boulder there?" He pointed to a large grey rock a few yards down the road on the right. "What does that look like to you?"

Beka gripped the reins more tightly. "Look, I'm hungry and I don't remember when I last slept—"

"I'm serious. What does it look like to you?" He was grinning madly now, and she wondered how long it had been since he'd had any rest himself.

Alec met her questioning look with his usual shrug, then turned his attention to the rock in question.

It was about six feet long, four high, and roughly oval in shape. The end facing them narrowed sharply into a pair of even concave depressions that made it look almost like—

"A bear?" she ventured, wondering if she was losing her mind, too. The narrowed end did have the look of a low-set head, with the smooth curve of a bear's back rising up behind it.

"I see it," chuckled Alec. "We seem to be haunted by bears. This is your landmark?"

"Yes," Seregil replied, clearly relieved. "Damn, I'd forgotten about it until I saw it just now. If you look closely, you can still make out where someone painted eyes on it. But this used to be a well-traveled route. There were several villages up in the hills, and a Dravnian trading camp beyond."

"It can't be seeing much traffic these days," Beka said, still doubtful. Foot-high saplings choked the narrow, weed-grown track.

"That's good," said Seregil. "The fewer people we run into, the better I'll like it. Thero isn't the only one who can send messages by magic, you know." He glanced up at the sun. "It's getting late. We should be further along by now."

Without dismounting, he and Alec shifted their saddles and gear to two of the stolen horses and climbed across. It took some managing, and Beka's help with the girths, but this way they left no telltale footprints for a tracker to read.

Beka fixed the reins of their cast-off mounts to her saddle with long lead ropes, letting the horses move with some independence. If anyone was tracking them, the signs would show that the "traveling companions" they'd joined up with the previous night had gone their own way while the three dispatch riders went on down the main road.

"Keep out of sight as long as you can," Seregil warned, clasping hands with her. "You can't get through the mountains without a guide, so you're trapped on this side."

"You worry about yourselves," she replied. "I'll just keep on this way as far as I can go, then strike off wherever seems best. I'll stay out another two days. After that, no matter what, I head back to Klia. The worst anyone will do if they do catch me is haul me back to Sarikali anyway. What will you do, after you've talked to Korathan?"