A moment of eerie quiet followed. Seregil lay absolutely still, listening to the water trickling between the grains of sand beneath his cheek. Riagil could by rights slay him with his own sword for breaking the decree of exile. If he were in league with Akhendi, it would be a most convenient tactic.

He heard muffled footsteps approach, then, from the corner of his eye, saw the sword blade shift slightly as someone grasped the hilt.

Then a firm hand closed over his shoulder.

"Rise, Exile," said Riagil, drawing him to his feet. "In the name of the Haman, I take you captive." Lowering his voice, he added, "The Iia'sidra are awaiting your return before the vote is taken. You have much to explain."

"I'm anxious to do so, Khirnari."

Alec splashed up beside them, planted his sword, and assumed the ritual posture.

"As a Skalan, you must be judged by your own people, Alec i Amasa," Riagil said, lifting him up. At his signal, one of his kinsmen collected their swords. Several others fell in beside Seregil.

"I must ask two things of you that may strain your patience, Khirnari," said Korathan. "These two must be allowed to speak on my behalf, regardless of the sentence passed against them. They came to me at great peril to their own lives to bring news of who has attacked my family."

"I have to speak to the Iia'sidra. Emiel i Moranthi's life and the honor of three clans depend on it," Seregil told him. "I swear it by Aura's name."

"This is why you left?" Riagil asked.

"It seemed reason enough, Khirnari." Not quite a lie.

"I would also prefer to keep their return secret until we arrive in the sacred city," Korathan added.

Riagil noted Seregil's bruised face and nodded. "As you wish. It is enough that they have returned. Come, Korathan i Malteus, you shall be made welcome in my home until the will of the Iia'sidra is known. I'll send word to Sarikali at once."

And so it was, a short time later, that Seregil found himself once more in Riagil's painted courtyard. He and Alec sat apart from the others under the watchful gaze of their guards while Korathan and his people were given wine and food.

"At least he hasn't chained you," Alec remarked hopefully.

Seregil nodded absently, studying Korathan. It had been thirty years or more since they'd roistered through the Lower City stews together. Time had taken a harsh toll on the man, leaving him grim to the point of melancholy most of the time. Seated under the gnarled shade tree, he seemed uneasy with the peaceful setting-unmoved by the warm sunshine or the smiling, generous Gedre attending him.

A man made only for war, Seregil thought. Yet a man of reason as well, or they wouldn't be sitting here now.

Within the hour Riagil rejoined them bearing good news. "The Iia'sidra has granted you entrance to the sacred city, Korathan i Malteus," he announced happily. "There are restrictions, however."

"I expected as much," Korathan replied. "And they are?"

"You may bring your wizards, but no more than twenty soldiers, and you must order your vessels to anchor outside my harbor."

"Very well."

"You must also invoke your blood tie to the Bokthersan clan in order to declare teth'sag. Adzriel will act as your sponsor before the council."

"So I've been told," the prince replied. "Though I do not understand why my sister Klia was allowed to speak for herself, but I am not."

"This is different," Riagil explained. "Klia came to negotiate. You are bringing a matter of atui before them and, I'm sorry to say, some of the clans could challenge your right to do so. The Tirfaie— any Tirfaie—do not have the same rights under Aurenen law. Rest assured, Adzriel will be a great help to you."

Korathan glowered at Riagil. "You consider us a lesser race, then?"

The khirnari pressed a hand to his heart and made him a slight

bow. "Some do, my friend; not I. Please believe that I will do all in my power to see that your sister and Torsin i Xandus are accorded justice."

The column set off that afternoon with Riagil and twenty Gedre swordsmen as escort. There were no pack animals or musicians to slow them down this time. Not one for unnecessary ceremony, Korathan and his riders traveled as if they were on campaign, carrying only what they needed.

Seregil and Alec rode with the Skalans, wearing the tabard and wide steel hats of Korathan's personal guard.

"In uniform at last, eh?" Seregil said, grinning as Alec fidgeted at his helmet strap. "Between that and your dark hair, I doubt even Thero will recognize you."

"Let's just hope the Akhendi don't," Alec replied, warily scanning the cliffs that hemmed in this section of the road for trouble. "Do you think anyone will notice we're the only members of the prince's guard not carrying weapons?"

"If anyone asks, we're Korathan's personal cooks."

They bypassed the Dravnian way station to make camp farther up the pass. At the first stretch of guarded trail, Korathan accepted the blindfold with good grace, commenting only that he wished Skala had such safeguards.

They reached the steaming Vhada'nakori pool late the following morning and halted to rest the horses. Seregil and Alec remained with the soldiers while Riagil guided Korathan and his wizards up to the stone dragon.

Seregil's mare liked to suck air when being saddled, and he'd felt the saddle begin to slip during the last blind ride. After watering her, he tightened the girth strap, giving her a smart slap on the side to make her exhale.

As he worked, he listened with half an ear to the various conversations going on around him. Korathan's riders had struck him as a dour lot at the outset, but their Gedre counterparts were beginning to win some of them over. Some of them were stumbling along now in a jumbled argot of Skalan and 'faie, trying to make themselves understood. But he also caught a troubling undercurrent from some of the Skalans—muttered complaints about blindfolds and "strange, unnatural magicks." It seemed that Phoria was not alone in her distrust of the 'faie, and in wizards in general. This was a new attitude for Skalans, and it troubled him profoundly.

He was just finishing with the strap when suddenly everything went very still.

"Son of Korit," a voice said, speaking close to his ear.

The hair on his neck prickled. Turning sharply, he expected to find a rhui'auros or khtir'bai behind him. Instead, he saw only Alec and the soldiers still going about their business, though he still couldn't hear any sound.

Wondering if he'd suddenly gone deaf, he turned to steady himself against his horse and found a dragon the size of a hound perched on the saddle. Its wings were folded tight to its sides, and its neck was arched back like a serpent's. Before he could do more than register its existence, it struck, clamping its jaws around his left hand just above the thumb.

Seregil froze. He felt its heat first, hot as an oven against his skin, then the pain of teeth and venom slammed up his arm.

He grasped his horse's mane with his free hand, willing himself not to jerk away or cry out. The dragon's claws scraped pale lines in the saddle leather as it tightened its grip and gave his hand a sharp shake. Then it went still again, watching him with one hard yellow eye as blood welled from its scaly mouth and ran down his wrist.

O Aura, it's a big one! Dangerously big. Its jaws reached to the other side of his hand.

"That will leave a lucky mark."

The pain quickly swelled to something approaching rapture. The creature seemed to fill his vision, and he stared at it with an agonized reverence as hazy golden light coalesced around them. Its scales reflected the sunlight with an iridescent sheen. The stiff spines on its face twitched slightly as it held him, and wisps of vapor rose from its delicate golden nostrils.