"I cannot tell you why he left, Khirnari. Perhaps the strain of his situation here took more of a toll than any of us realized."

"Nonsense!" snorted Brythir. "Your queen and your princess both vouched for him as a man of character. I have judged him to be the same. He would not simply run off! You must answer to the Iia'sidra regarding this. I'll expect to see you and your household there at once!"

"Forgive me, Khirnari, but that is not possible." An ugly murmur spread through the crowd, and Thero was glad suddenly for the soldiers at his back. "Princess Klia lies close to death, poisoned by an Aurenfaie hand. We now have reason to believe that Torsin's death was not a natural one, either. I will attend the Iia'sidra as soon as they can be assembled, but I cannot in good conscience allow any other member of this household to leave here as long as she remains in danger."

"Torsin murdered?" The old khirnari blinked up at him. "You said nothing of this before."

"We believed the murderer might reveal himself by his own guilty knowledge."

"Do you know who this murderer is?" the Khatme khirnari demanded, looking skeptical.

"I can say nothing of that, as yet," Thero replied, letting the others take that as they would, and hoping it would deflect attention from Seregil's disappearance.

"Come then, Wizard," Brythir told him, motioning for Thero to follow.

"You don't mean to go alone?" Sergeant Braknil whispered, moving in beside him.

"Stay here, all of you," Thero told him calmly. "Klia's safety is all that matters now. Send the Bokthersans back to Adzriel with my

thanks, and then set siege guard." He paused, halfway down the stairs. "Release Sergeant Mercalle back to duty, too. We need everyone we can get."

"Thank you, my lord. She's loyal to Skala, whatever else you may think of her actions." Raising his voice, Braknil added, "Take care, my lord. Send word if you need us—for anything."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, Sergeant." Going down the stairs, Thero joined the khirnari. Adzriel lingered with the others in front of her own door, but gave him a small smile as he passed. Encouragement, perhaps, or complicity?

Most of the Iia'sidra were waiting in the great chamber when they arrived. For the first time, Thero took the seat of honor in the circle, marooned in silence. Those around him spoke in low tones or behind their hands, casting occasional glances in his direction.

Ulan i Sathil was there but appeared uninterested in the whole affair. A great crowd of Haman had accompanied Nazien, and Thero recognized a good many of Emiel's companions among them. They looked to be out for blood.

Adzriel entered last with a contingent of twenty, taking her place in the circle with her husband at her side.

There was no ceremony or ringing of chimes today; this was a private matter between Skala and Haman. The others had gathered only to witness.

Nazien i Hari stepped forward as soon as the last of the khirnari had taken their seats, and to his credit displayed little satisfaction as he announced, "Before this body, I claim teth'sag against Seregil the Exile, formerly Seregil of Bokthersa, and against all those who aid and abet him. He has violated vows given for his return and I claim the vengeance that is Haman's right."

"How convenient for you," sneered Iriel a Kasrai of Bry'kha. "Seregil might have found proof of your nephew's guilt if he'd stayed around a bit longer."

"Silence!" snapped Brythir. "It is as Nazien i Hari says. The Iia'sidra itself could not deny them this right. Seregil knew this. He has made his choice and his former clan must make good their vow of atui."

"The guilt or innocence of Emiel i Moranthi has no bearing on this," Nazien proclaimed. "As khirnari of Haman, and as the grandfather of the man the Exile murdered, I have no choice. I demand that the Bokthersans administer justice under the law."

Adzriel stood, pale but unbowed. "Justice shall be yours, Khirnari." Mydri and Saaban remained stoic, but behind them, Kheeta and several others covered their faces.

The Silmai turned next to him. "Now, Thero i Procepios, I demand that you explain Seregil's disappearance. Why did he leave, and who helped him?"

"I regret that I can tell you nothing," Thero said again, and took his seat amid the expected outcry.

A lone figure detached itself from the shadows near the door and entered the circle. Here was Nyal at last.

"I think you will find it was Alec i Amasa and the Skalan captain who accompanied Seregil," he announced, not looking in Thero's direction.

You skulking cur! the wizard thought, sick with rage. So that was how the Haman had gotten word so quickly.

Ulan i Sathil rose, and a hush fell over the chamber. Tarnished as his honor might be, he still commanded respect. "Perhaps the more immediate question we should be asking is why he left," he said. "This sudden and inexplicable flight makes no sense. Though I have no great love for the man, even I must admit that the Exile has acquitted himself well since his arrival here. He has won the respect, perhaps even the support, of many and enjoyed the company of his former kin. Why then, in the midst of his own investigations against my clan and the Haman, should he suddenly commit so gross an act of disloyalty?" He paused, then added, "Why, indeed, unless he or the Skalans have something to hide?"

"What are you implying?" demanded Adzriel.

Ulan spread his hands. "I merely speculate. Perhaps Seregil knows of something that takes precedence over the outcome of his current mission here."

For an instant, Thero forgot to breathe. Had Ulan's Plenimaran spies found out so soon of Korathan's ill-timed attack, or had Nyal somehow managed to betray them in this, as well? Rising, he said, "I can assure you, Khirnari, nothing is more important to Seregil or any of us than the success of our labors here." Even in his own ears, this scrap of truth sounded far less convincing than any lie he'd told so far.

"I do not mean to impugn Thero i Procepios's honor when I point out that we have only his word for that," Ulan said smoothly. "Nor when I also point out that it was Seregil himself, a proven traitor and murderer, who possesses the greatest knowledge of the device he claims was used to poison Klia. It was he himself who so easily and

fortuitously found the ring in my house, thereby discrediting Skala's staunchest opponent."

"Are you suggesting that he poisoned Klia?" asked Brythir.

"I suggest nothing, yet she is not dead, is she? Perhaps a man who knows so much about poisons would also know how to administer them so as to not quite kill, thereby creating the semblance of a botched murder attempt?"

"That's ridiculous!" Thero retorted, but his protest was drowned out by the renewed burst of exclamations from all sides. People were out of their seats, shouting and arguing, crowding out onto the chamber floor. Even Brythir i Nien could not make himself heard over the din.

Thero shook his head, marveling at the ease with which the Viresse khirnari could manipulate an audience. Still, there was more than one way to get people's attention. Climbing up on his chair, he clapped his palms together over his head, forgetting, in his haste, to make allowances for the strange energy of the city.

Daylight failed for an instant, then a deafening clap of thunder rocked the chamber, rumbling around the room for the space of several heartbeats.

The result was nearly comical. People clutched at each other, clapped hands over their ears, or fell dumbstruck back into their seats. Ears ringing, Thero groped for the chair's back to keep his balance.

"Whatever Seregil has done, for whatever reasons, the matter of teth'sag lies between him and the Haman," he declared. "The greater wrong remains that done to Princess Klia, who lies insensible at the heart of a city she believed held no violence. Hunt him down if you must, but do not let the actions of one man destroy all we have worked toward during these long weeks! By all the sacred names of the Lightbearer, Klia has acted with nothing but honor, and been rewarded with injury, yet she demands no vengeance. I pray you remember that when the vote is cast—"