He heard Alec's sharp intake of breath as the younger man recognized the clusters of bell-shaped blossoms. "Wolfbane," he whispered, giving them their Tir name.

"Not cups. Bowls. It's dwai sholo," said Seregil. "This amounts to an admission of guilt."

"Yes," Rhaish gasped. "I considered using the apaki'nhag venom, but feared it might confuse the issue. I want no confusion." Another spasm shook him, Gritting his teeth, he pulled off his sengai and let it fall beside his chair. "The guilt is mine, and I bear it alone."

"Do you swear that by Aura's Light? asked Seregil.

"I do. How could I ask anyone else to partake of such dishonor, no matter how necessary?" He stretched out a hand to Seregil and he took it, kneeling before the dying man.

"You'll make them believe? Rhaish whispered. "Let my death absolve the name of Akhendi, and take all dishonor."

"I will, Khirnari," Seregil replied softly. The man's fingers were already icy. Leaning closer, Seregil spoke quickly. "I was right, wasn't I, about Klia's poisoning being an accident?"

Rhaish nodded. "Nor did I intend harm to the Haman. Silly girl— talia. Though I should—" He gagged, then drew a labored breath. The mage light still cupped in his palm was failing. "I should like to

have bested Ulan, the old schemer, and beaten him at his own game for once. Aura forgive—"

A spate of sour bile burst from the old man's mouth, staining the front of his robe black in the moonlight. He shuddered violently and fell back in his chair. The mage light went out.

Seregil felt the fleeting tingle of the departing khi as the cold hand went limp. "Poor old fool." The silence of the garden seemed to thicken into something more ominous, and he lowered his voice to a cautious whisper. "He had too much atui to be good at murder."

"Atui?" muttered Alec. "After what he did?"

"I don't excuse it, but I understand."

Alec shrugged and reached for the bracelet. "At least he gave us what we need.

"No, don't touch it. All this?" He gestured at the bracelet, the clay bowls, the cast-off sen'gai. "It's as good as any confession. They don't need us for that. Come on, let's go back before we're missed."

But Alec remained where he was, staring down at the dead man's slumped form. Seregil couldn't see his face, but heard a tremor in his voice when he said at last, "That could be you, if Nazien has his way."

"I'm not going to run away, Alec." A fatalistic smile tugged at the corner of Seregil's mouth. "At least not until I'm certain I have to."

Alec said nothing more as they hurried back to Bokthersa tupa, but Seregil could feel his fear like a chilled blade against his skin. He wanted to reach out, offer some comfort, but had none to give, still driven by the stubborn resolve that had come to him in the mountains.

He wouldn't run away.

Back in Bokthersa tupa, they paused outside the guest house. Seregil searched for something to say, but Alec cut him off, grasping him fiercely by the neck and pressing his forehead to Seregil's. Seregil hugged him close, fighting rigid limbs to drink in his lover's warmth and comforting scent. "They're not going to kill me, Alec," he whispered into the soft hair pressed beneath his lips.

"They can." No tears, but such misery.

"They won't." Seregil pressed his wounded hand to his friend's cheek, letting him feel the pebbled rows of scabs. "They won't kill me."

Alec rocked his head hard against Seregil's shoulder, then pulled away and scaled the stable-yard wall without a backward glance.

Returning to his too empty room, Alec lit all the lamps, wanting to drive off the shadow of his own dark thoughts., Anything to block out the memory of that slumped figure, and the two bowls.

Caught between fear and anger, he threw together two small traveling packs, preparing for a quick escape if that's what it took to keep Seregil from a headlong plunge into self-destruction. Time and again he went out to the balcony, but his friend's dark window revealed nothing.

What is he thinking? he raged silently, pacing again.

His own hopes and illusions mocked him now. He'd come to Aurenen to discover some part of his past, and Seregil's. Yet what had it come to? The revelation of his mother's sacrifice, the maiming of Klia, shame heaped on his friend, and now Seregil's inexplicable resolve to face the Iia'sidra.

Thero slipped in just then, looking as if he hadn't been to bed yet, either. "I saw your light. Were you successful?"

"After a fashion." Alec told him what they'd found, and how Seregil had chosen to leave things.

The wizard seemed satisfied with this turn

of events. "It's not over yet, my friend," he said, resting a hand on Alec's shoulder. "Sleep now."

Alec just had time to realize that this was a spell rather than a friendly suggestion before oblivion claimed him.

Alec awoke with the first hint of dawn creeping in through the balcony door. Pushing off the blanket Thero had spread over him, he changed clothes and hurried downstairs.

Noticing that Klia's door stood open, he stopped to check on her. Ariani was with her, talking softly to Klia as she brushed her dark hair. Both women looked up as he entered. He hadn't bothered with a mirror that morning, but the expression on the rider's face served well enough. Klia murmured something and Ariani withdrew, leaving them alone.

"How are you, my lady?" he asked, taking the chair next to the bed.

Her eyes were still deeply sunken, but her cheeks showed more color today. "A little better, I think," she whispered. "Thero told me—the others don't know yet. Rhaish—" Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down toward her ears. Alec blotted them with the end of his sleeve, then covered her good hand with his own. A healthy warmth radiated from her skin.

"Will it help us?" she whispered thickly, forcing the words out.

"Seregil thinks so."

"Good," she closed her eyes. "Don't give up. Nothing else matters now. Too far—"

"You have my word," Alec assured her, wondering if she understood what Seregil faced.

Better if she doesn't, he decided. He pressed his lips to her hand. "Rest now, my lady. We need you back."

She didn't open her eyes, but he felt the slight, answering pressure of her fingers against his. The feel of it lingered against his skin as he continued on to the hall.

The others were there ahead of him. The room was crowded with Korathan's guard and Urgazhi Turma. Craning his neck, Alec spotted Korathan and Wydonis talking with Thero by the hearth.

"There you are," Beka said, emerging from the press. She looked nervous. "Are you ready?"

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Word just came from Adzriel. Rhaish is dead. It looks like you and Seregil were right."

"What are they're saying?" Alec asked, holding relief at bay.

Before she could answer, Thero waved him over. Leaving Beka to her preparations, he pushed past the soldiers and joined the prince and wizards in the small side chamber.

Korathan was sipping tea, the delicate Aurenfaie cup all but hidden in his large, callused hand. Regarding Alec over the rim, he said quietly, "You should have reported to me last night. I had to hear it from Klia's wizard today."

Alec met the man's pale gaze without flinching. "I'm sorry, my lord. I thought—"

"I'm not interested in what you thought. You didn't help the old bastard along, did you?»

"No, my lord," Alec reported. "We—I—" It was too late to wonder just what Thero had told him. "Seregil and I just went to spy. Rhaish i Arlisandin had already poisoned himself when we arrived. We just happened to be there."

Korathan gave him another long, unreadable look. "Is there anything else you've kept back that I should know about?"