Reaching the way station again before nightfall, he questioned the lad who watched the horses and learned that a certain signal had not been given by the last trio of dispatch riders, a fact that had raised suspicion almost before they'd ridden out of sight. That, and the fact that the Skalan rider had apparently understood more Aurenfaie than she let on.

The trail from here was not difficult to follow; the mare Beka had taken had a notch in her left rear hoof. Some miles on, though, Nyal

was surprised to see that they'd fallen in with several other riders. Seregil and Alec must be more brazen than he'd guessed, passing themselves off as Akhendi here. They were certainly taking no pains to cover their tracks, keeping to the main road instead of splitting up and losing themselves in the network of side roads that branched off from it. There were streams they could have ridden up to cover their trail, byways that doubled back on themselves. Then again, Seregil had no way of knowing most of these routes.

"Perhaps these other horsemen are conspirators?" said one of the Silmai with him as they paused at a roadside spring where the fugitives had dismounted to drink.

"If so, then they aren't being much help," Nyal said, studying the footprints in the soft earth at the spring's edge: two sets of Aurenfaie boots, one Skalan. The others had remained mounted.

"They can't know the area, or they'd have shown him ways of getting away from the main road and putting us off the scent," a Ra'basi kinsman named Woril noted.

"Not yet," Nyal murmured, wondering again what Seregil could be up to. It wasn't until the following day, when he finally found where the two groups of riders had parted, that he began to understand.

42 MISDIRECTION

Beka rode steadily through the night, avoiding the few Akhendi villagers she encountered along the way. She made no effort to cover her trail, counting on misdirection to protect her friends.

The rain continued, a cold, inexorable mist that seemed to seep right down to her bones. As the mountains loomed closer ahead, she finally gave up the ruse and turned aside onto a side road that twisted away to the east through the forest. By late the next day she was exhausted and utterly lost.

Ambling along, she spotted a game trail leading up a slope and followed it, hoping to find some shelter for the night. Just before dark, she found a dry patch of earth beneath a fallen fir tree and made camp there. Lightning had struck the tree sometime recently, shattering the trunk but not severing it, so that the thick top hung to the ground at an angle, creating a sheltered den among the lower boughs. After dragging in her pack, she dug a pit with her knife and built a little fire to stave off the chill.

Just for a few hours, she told herself, huddling close to the flames. The heat quickly baked the damp from her tunic and breeches. Wrapping herself in her blanket, she leaned against the rough bark behind her. A thin waxing moon showed itself between torn shreds of

clouds, a reminder that in just two days the Iia'sidra would decide the success or failure of all their work here.

"By the Four," she whispered. "Just let us get Klia home alive and I'll be satisfied."

As she drifted off to sleep, however, it was Nyal who filled her thoughts, tingeing her dreams with an uneasy mix of longing and doubt.

The grip of a strong hand on her shoulder startled Beka awake at dawn. There was just light enough to make out Nyal kneeling beside her, face inches from her own.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped, wondering if she was still dreaming.

"I'm sorry, talia," he murmured, and Beka's heart sank as she saw the armed men behind him.

She pulled back, berating herself bitterly for being so easily caught.

"Beka, please—" Nyal tried again, but she shoved him away and scrambled to her feet. How had they gotten so close without her hearing them?

"Their horses are here, but there's no sign of them," a Ra'basi told Nyal.

"You son of a bitch!" Beka snarled, rocked to the core as realization sank in. "You led them here!"

"Where are they, Beka?" he asked.

She searched his eyes for some sign of hope but found none. Leaning closer, as if to confide in him, she spat in his face. "Garshil ke'menios!"

Nyal's mouth set in an angry line as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve. "There are others out looking for them, Captain, Haman among them."

Beka turned her back on him, saying nothing.

"We'll get nothing out of her," Nyal told the others. "Korious, you and your men get her back to the city. Akara, you wait until it's light enough, then scour the surrounding area for signs of them. I'll backtrack, then catch up with you."

"Very efficient, Ra'basi," Beka muttered as they stripped her of weapons and tied her hands.

"I assure you, Captain, you'll be treated with respect by these men," Nyal assured her. "As for your friends, it would be better for everyone concerned if I'm the one to find them. They're both in danger: Seregil and your almost-brother."

Beka sneered at him, not allowing him to play on her fears. "Go to hell, traitor."

The mountain road grew worse as Seregil and Alec went on. Bare stone peaks loomed ever closer, stark against the cloudy sky.

They reached the second village just before noon and found it as deserted as the first. No people meant no fresh horses, and Seregil's mare was limping badly.

Dismounting in the overgrown square, he ran a hand over the back leg she was favoring and found an angry swelling at the hock.

"Shit!" he hissed, gentling her as she shied. "She's bog spavined."

"The gelding is still sound," Alec told him, inspecting Seregil's other horse. One of Alec's horses, a bay mare, was cow hocked and probably wouldn't cover much rough country without coming up lame sooner or later, too.

Seregil shifted his saddle onto the gelding, then pointed up toward a distant notch between two crags. "We should hit the trail I want a few miles further on, inside the magicked area. You can't see it yet from here, but our pass is right up there. There's a Dravnian tower near the top. If these nags hold out, we might just make it. I don't want to be sleeping in the open tonight. There are wolves up there, and bandits."

"And smugglers?"

"If so, I hope they're smuggling horses. I suspect the war's put an end to that, though. Not much point in hauling goods to the coast if there aren't any Skalan night ships waiting for them."

"Too bad. I was hoping to meet that uncle of yours I keep hearing about. What are you going to do about that lame horse?"

In answer, Seregil smacked her hard on the rump and watched as she trotted awkwardly out of sight between the deserted houses. "Come on. Let's see how far we get before we lose that bay of yours."

A mile or so past the village Seregil spotted a carved post half hidden by twining creeper and brush. "This is where you get blindfolded, my friend."

Alec took out a strip of cloth and tied it over his eyes. "There, I'm in your hands, Guide."

"Not in quite the fashion I like," Seregil smirked, taking Alec's reins and setting off again.

Alec leaned forward and braced himself against the stirrups as the ground grew steadily steeper. He knew by the smells around him that they were still in the woods, but the echoes of the horse's hooves spoke of a narrow gap. From time to time he heard the rattle of loose stone, and for one heart-stopping moment his horse stumbled, scrabbling wildly for purchase. He clawed at the blindfold, terrified of being thrown off or crushed under a fallen horse.

"It's all right." Seregil's hand locked around his Wrist, drawing his hand away.

"Damn it, Seregil, how much longer?" Alec gasped.