"Son of Korit," the voice said again.

"Aura Elustri," he whispered, trembling.

The dragon released him and flapped away across the steaming tarn.

Sounds rushed in on him, and suddenly Alec was there, easing him down to the ground as his legs gave out under him. Seregil stared dazedly down at the double line of bloody punctures that crossed his hand, back and palm.

"Larger than Thero's," he murmured, shaking his head in amazement.

"Seregil!" Alec said, shaking him by the shoulder. "Where did it come from? Are you all right? Where's that vial?"

"Vial? Pouch." It was hard to concentrate with his entire arm on fire from the inside. People crowded in to see, overwhelming him with noise.

Alec tugged the pouch free from Seregil's belt and shook out the glass vial of lissik the rhui'auros had given him—the one he'd very nearly left behind.

He let out a strangled laugh. They knew I'd need it. They knew all along.

Alec gently worked the dark, oily liquid into the wound, easing the worst of the burning.

The crowd parted for Korathan and Riagil. The khirnari knelt and took Seregil's hand, then called out for herbs.

"By the Light, Seregil!" he murmured, quickly assembling a poultice and wrapping it around his hand with wet rags. "To be so marked, it's—"

"A gift," Seregil croaked, feeling the dragon's venom spreading through his body, turning his veins to wires of hot steel.

"A gift indeed. But can you ride?"

"Tie me on, if you have to." He tried to get up and failed. Someone held a flask to his lips, and he gulped down a bitter infusion.

"You're trembling," Alec muttered, helping him up. "How are you going to manage?"

"Not much choice, tali," Seregil replied. "The worst of it should pass in a day or two. It didn't bite too deeply, just enough to mark me and make me remember."

"Remember what?"

Seregil grinned weakly. "Who I am."

50 STANDOFF

The ride back to Sarikali seemed endless. Beka and Nyal kept off the main road and steered wide of the little villages they passed. Nyal stopped at one to buy a second horse, leaving her in the trees without comment or warning.

She was grateful to have her own mount again; the closeness of riding double with Nyal had been more than she could bear. They spoke little during the day and rolled into their blankets on opposite sides of the fire as soon as they'd eaten.

The entire situation felt ridiculous when she let herself think too much about it. She was, in essence, his prisoner, yet she held all the weapons. Either of them could have stolen away in the night, yet each was there in the morning.

I need to get back to the city and he's been ordered to bring me there. That's all there is to it, she told herself, ignoring the sad, furtive glances he cast her way.

They reached the river the following afternoon and reined in at the head of the bridge.

"Well, here we are," said Beka. "What now?"

Nyal stared thoughtfully at the distant city. "I must take you to the Iia'sidra, I suppose.

Don't worry, though. You're Tir. I imagine they'll just pass you along to Klia. She's the one who must answer for you." "Will you tell them about letting Seregil go?" she asked mockingly.

Nyal sighed. "Sooner or later I'll have to."

Something in his face brought on another twinge of doubt. If he was telling the truth—

"We'd better put on a good show," she said, handing him back his weapons. This brought on another wave of empty regret; he could have taken them from her if he'd really wanted to.

There was less fuss about her return than she'd expected. They attracted little notice until they reached Silmai tupa. Nyal exchanged a few words with the servant at the khirnari's door, then stepped back and let Beka enter alone. She could feel him watching her but refused to look back. Squaring her shoulders, she allowed herself to be escorted into the main hall, where Brythir sat waiting.

The khirnari's reaction was impossible to read. He simply stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. "I have summoned the Iia'sidra and your own people, Captain. You must answer before them."

She made him a deep bow. "As you wish, Khirnari. But please tell me, is Klia alive?"

"Yes, and I understand she is improving, though she is still unable to speak."

Beka bowed again, too overcome with relief to speak.

"Come." He motioned her to a chair and put a mug of ale into her shaking hands. "And now you must answer a question for me. Have you returned of your own will?"

"Yes, my lord."

This seemed to content him, for he asked her nothing more. As soon as she'd finished her ale, they proceeded under escort to the Iia'sidra chamber.

Here, she found herself facing a far more hostile assembly, although she received nods of encouragement from the Bokthersans and Akhendi. Sitting in Klia's place, Thero gave her a slight smile. She hadn't had a chance to clean up or change out of the bedraggled clothes she'd stolen. She looked every inch a spy, if not a very successful one.

The Iia'sidra questioned her closely, but she stubbornly refused to say why Seregil left the city or what direction he and Alec had taken. In Skala, such an interrogation might have ended in the torture rooms of Red Tower prison or under the hands of a truth knower. Instead, she was turned over to her own people.

The only part of her story that had raised eyebrows at all was her assertion that the Akhendi she'd met on the road had meant to kill her. If not for Nyal's corroboration, she suspected they wouldn't have believed her at all.

Rhaish i Arlisandin was understandably upset by this news. "I gave orders for their safe return," he protested, making his apologies to Thero.

When it was all over, she was led away under guard by her own riders. Rhylin was in charge and gave her an encouraging grin as they left the chamber.

"They're all right, then?" he whispered.

She shrugged, thinking of the bloodstain on Nyal's tunic.

At the guest house, Thero took her directly to Klia's chamber, where the sick woman lay asleep under Corporal Nikides's watchful guard. Her hands rested on the comforter at her sides, one whole, the other still swathed in bulky dressings. The window was open, and incense burned on a stand across the room, but a sickly odor still underlay it, one she had smelled on battlefields and in hospital tents—illness, poultices, and damaged flesh. Klia was so pale, so still, that for a moment Beka feared she'd taken a sudden turn for the worse.

When Thero touched her shoulder and Klia opened her eyes, however, Beka saw that whether her commander could speak or not, her mind had cleared.

Thank the Flame, she thought, going down on one knee beside the bed.

"She wishes to know all that has happened," Thero said, drawing a chair up for her. "You'd best keep it brief, though. These periods of lucidity don't usually last long."

"There's not much to tell," Beka admitted. "Seregil found his trail and I went on; Nyal caught up with me and sent me back with his men while he went on after Seregil."

Thero made a low, angry noise in his throat. "What happened then?"

"We were attacked by bandits and I escaped in the confusion. Nyal tracked me down again the next day, just in time to get me away from those Akhendi riders. He claimed he'd found Seregil and Alec, helped them out of an ambush, too, and then sent them on their way. But—" She paused, fighting back the sudden tightness in her chest.

"You doubt his word?"

"I don't know what to think," she whispered. Looking down, she found Klia watching her intently. "He had blood on his tunic, my lady. He says Alec was hurt and he bound the wound. I–I don't know."