The wizard paused. "That could create difficulties, I suppose."

"Indeed," mused Klia. "Perhaps you should be circumspect in your inquiries."

"I always am," Alec replied with a smile only a few at the table fully understood. "But how could the rhui'auros tell who my ancestors were?"

"They practice a very special sort of magic," Thero explained. "Only the rhui'auros are allowed to travel the inner roads of the soul."

"Like the truth knowers of the Oreska?"

"The Aurenfaie don't have that magic, exactly," Seregil interjected. "You'd do well to keep that in mind, Thero. The punishment for invading another's thoughts is severe."

"My skills in that direction are not particularly strong. As I was saying, the rhui'auros believe they can trace a person's khi, the soul thread that connects us all to Illior."

"Aura," Seregil corrected.

"Being a full half 'faie, Alec, yours should be strong," said Beka, following the conversation with interest.

"I'm not sure that makes any difference," said Thero. "I'm generations away from my 'faie ancestors, yet my abilities are equal to those of Nysander and the other old ones."

"Yes, but you're one of the few younger ones left who possess such power," Seregil. reminded him.

"If all wizards have some Aurenfaie blood, do they know which clans they're related to?" asked Beka.

"Sometimes," said Thero. "Magyana's father was an Aurenfaie trader who settled in Cirna. My line goes back to the Second Oreska at Ero, with generations of intermarried mixed-bloods. Nysander's teacher, Arkoniel, was from the same line.

"Speaking of rhui'auros, Seregil, have you thought of visiting them yourself? Perhaps they could discover why you have such trouble with magic. You've got the ability, if only you could master it."

"I've managed well enough without it."

Was it his imagination, Alec wondered, or had Seregil actually gone a bit pale?

7 STRIPED SAILS AND FIRE

By dawn, the Zyria and her escorts were already well out to sea. Much to Alec's disappointment, Beka had sailed aboard the Wolf with Mercalle's decuria. He could see her striding around the deck, red hair shining in the sun. They exchanged shouted greetings, but the distance and rushing sea made conversation difficult.

Thero accompanied Klia on their ship, and although Alec was happy to renew their acquaintance, he soon began to suspect that the wizard had changed less than he'd originally thought. Thero was less abrupt, to be sure, but still a bit distant—a cold fish, as Seregil liked to say. Forced together in close quarters, he and Seregil were soon sparring again, if not quite so bitterly as before.

When Alec remarked on this, Seregil merely shrugged. "What did you expect, for him to somehow turn into Nysander? We are who we are."

They followed the coastline all day, sailing a few miles outside the scattered islands that edged the western shore.

Standing at the rail, Alec scanned the distant sea cliffs and thought of his first journey here aboard the Grampus, when Seregil

lay dying in the hold. The steep land between cliff and mountains showed the first green of spring, and from here it all looked peaceful—except for the red sails like their own that began to appear with greater frequency the further south they traveled.

Alec was at the rail again when they passed the mouth of Rhiminee harbor later that day. Gazing longingly at the distant city, he could make out scores of vessels at anchor on both sides of the moles. Beyond them, atop her towering grey cliffs, the upper city glowed like gold in the slanting afternoon light. The glass domes of the Oreska House and its four towers gave back a burning glare like points of flame, leaving black spots in front of his eyes when he looked away. Blinking, he searched the deck for Seregil and found him leaning against the aft castle wall, arms folded across his chest as he gazed up at the city he'd forsaken. Alec took a hesitant step in his direction, but Seregil walked away.

As Rhiminee slowly slipped from sight behind them, the three ships struck south east across the Osiat with a fresh following wind. A growing air of tension hung over the three vessels as sailors and soldiers alike kept watch for striped Plenimaran sails. As darkness fell, however, conversation grew freer. A waning moon rose above them, spangling the waves with silver.

Seregil and Torsin retired to the bow with Klia to discuss negotiation tactics. Left to their own devices, Alec and Thero paced the deck. They could make out the dark shapes of the escort ships sailing abreast of the Zyria a few hundred feet to either side. It was a calm night, and voices carried easily across the water. Some unseen musician aboard the Courser struck up a tune on a lute.

Braknil and his riders had gathered around the hatchway lantern on the foredeck. Spying Alec and the wizard, the old sergeant waved them over.

"That'll be young Urien strumming away," he said, listening to the distant music.

When the song ended, someone aboard the Wolf answered with the first verse of a popular ballad.

A pretty young maid strolled down the shore, with naught but her

shadow beside her. Over in the bushes hid the farmer's lad and lustfully he eyed her.

One-eyed Steb produced a wooden flute, and his comrades bawled the melody across the water.

Steb's lover, Mini, gave Alec a playful jab with his elbow. "You too good to sing with us tonight? You're the closest thing to a bard here."

Alec made him an exaggerated bow and took up the next verse:

"Oh, come with me, my sweet pretty maid," the farmer's lad

said he. "I'll make you my wife and keep you for life if only you'll lie

with me."

Mirn and young Minal hoisted Alec onto a hatch cover and helped lead the interminable randy verses. Thero hung back by the rail, but Alec could see the wizard's lips moving. When the song was done, cheers and catcalls echoed from the other ships.

"Well now, isn't this a hard life?" Sergeant Braknil chuckled, lighting his pipe. "We're like a bunch of nobles off on a pleasure voyage."

"I don't suppose it'll be much harder once we get to Aurenen," a veteran named Ariani agreed. "As honor guard, we're just along for show."

"You've got that right, girl. After a few weeks of standing about on guard duty, we'll be happy enough to get back to the fighting. Still, it's something to be the first to see Aurenen after all these years. Lord Seregil must've told you something of it, Alec?"

"He says it's a green place, warmer than Skala. There was a song he sang—"

Alec couldn't recall the tune, but some of the words had stayed with him. " 'My love is wrapped in a cloak of flowing green, and wears the moon for a crown. And all around has chains of flowing silver. Her mirrors reflect the sky. There's more to it, all very sad."

"Magic is more common there, as well," Thero added with mock severity. "You'd all better mind your manners; the 'pretty young maids' might answer an insult with more than clever words."

A few of the riders exchanged worried looks at this.

"A strange land with strange folk in it," Braknil mused around his pipe stem. "As I hear it, they're handy with their swords and bows, too. But you only have to look at Lord Seregil to see the truth in that. Or did, anyway. And perhaps it's what makes you such a fine archer, eh, Alec?"

"More like having an empty belly if I didn't shoot true."

Someone brought out dice, and Alec joined in a friendly game. The

soldiers were a gregarious lot and even managed to pull Thero into the circle despite his initial reticence. There was much joking about the wisdom of dicing with a wizard, but Thero managed to allay their worries by losing every toss. Eventually people began to wander off to find their beds for the night—some alone, some in pairs.