"Our bath chamber is being prepared for you and your women," Yhali told Klia as she and Riagil took their leave. "I'll send a servant to escort you."

Riagil spared Seregil a cool glance. "The men will use the blue chamber. You remember the way, I'm certain?"

Seregil nodded, and this time Alec was certain he saw a flicker of sadness in his friend's grey eyes.

If the khirnari saw it, he gave no sign. "My servants will conduct you to the feast when you have refreshed yourselves. And you, Torsin i Xandus?"

"I will remain here for now," the old man replied. "I'm not acquainted with some of our party, it seems."

' As the khirnari and his lady withdrew, Torsin turned and addressed Alec directly for the first time since his arrival. "I have heard many times how you saved Klia's life, Alec i Amasa. My niece Melessandra also speaks most highly of you. I am honored to make your acquaintance."

"And I yours, honored sir." Alec managed to keep a straight face as he accepted the man's outstretched hand. After a lifetime of complete obscurity, such widespread notoriety was going to take getting used to.

"I will join you momentarily, if you will excuse me? "Torsin said, entering his chamber.

"Come along, you two," Seregil said to Alec and Thero. "I believe you'll enjoy this. I certainly intend to."

Crossing the flower-filled courtyard, they entered a vaulted chamber, the walls of which were painted blue and decorated with more of the whimsical sea creatures Alec had seen on the exterior walls. Sunlight streamed in through several small windows set near the ceiling, the rays dancing off the surface of a small, steaming pool sunk into the floor. Four smiling men of varying ages stepped forward with murmured greetings to help them out of their clothing.

"Leave it to the Aurenfaie to make a guesting custom of bathing," Alec remarked to cover his initial discomfort with such attentions.

"It doesn't do to tell your visitors that they stink," Seregil murmured with a chuckle.

Before Alec had met Seregil, a bath was something undertaken only as an absolute necessity, and then only in the heat of high summer. Daily ablutions struck him not only as absurd but downright unsafe until he'd been won over in Rhiminee by the amenities of heated water and tubs without splinters. Even then, he'd considered Seregil's devotion to such physical comforts to be just another of his friend's forgivable quirks. Later, Seregil had explained that bathing was an integral part of Aurenfaie life and the heart of hospitality.

And now at last, he was going to experience it firsthand—if in a slightly altered version. Separate bathing for men and women was a Skalan custom; Alec wasn't sure how he could have gotten through a communal bath with Klia.

Clay pipes brought heated water into the bath chamber from somewhere outside. The steamy air was redolent with sweet herbs.

Surrendering the last of his clothes to the attendant, Alec followed the others into the bath. After so many days at sea, it was a delicious sensation and he soon relaxed, watching the play of reflected light across the ceiling as the embracing water drew out all the tensions and bruises of their journey.

"By the Light, I've missed this!" Seregil sighed as he stretched lazily, resting his head against the side of the pool.

There's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the arrow wound on Seregil's shoulder. The skin was still swollen, and an ugly purple bruise had spread darkly across his fair skin, reaching halfway to the small, faded circular scar at the center of his chest.

"I didn't realize it was that bad," he said.

Seregil flexed the shoulder nonchalantly. "It looks worse than it feels."

After a proper soak and scrub, the servants dried them and led them to thick pallets on the floor, where they massaged them from head to toe, kneading aromatic oils into every joint and muscle. Seregil's attendant took special care with his bruised shoulder and was rewarded with a series of appreciative groans.

Alec did his best to relax as skilled hands worked inexorably down his back toward portions of his anatomy he generally considered off-limits to anyone but Seregil. None of the others seemed to have any qualms about it, though, not even There, who lay growling contentedly on the next pallet.

Take what the Lightbringer sends and be thankful, Alec reminded himself, still striving to adopt Seregil's avowed philosophy.

Torsin joined them during the massage, lowering himself slowly into a chair beside them.

"And how are you enjoying our host's hospitality?" he asked, smiling down at Alec and There. "We Skalans may consider ourselves a cultured people, but the 'faie put us quite to shame."

"I hope they offer it everywhere we stay," the wizard mumbled happily.

"Oh, yes," Torsin assured him. "It's considered a great disgrace for host or guest to neglect such niceties."

Alec groaned. "You mean if I don't wash or use the proper tableware I'll cause a scandal?"

"No, but you will bring dishonor on yourself and the princess," Torsin replied. "The laws governing the behavior of our hosts are even stricter. If a guest is harmed, the entire clan carries the dishonor."

Alec tensed; there was no mistaking the veiled reference to Seregil's past.

Seregil rose on one elbow to face the old man. "I know you didn't want me here." His voice was level, controlled, but the knuckles of his clenched fists were white. "I'm as sensitive as you to the complications of my return."

Torsin shook his head. "I'm not certain you are. Riagil was your friend, yet you cannot have misread his reception today." He broke off suddenly and coughed into a linen napkin. The fit went on for several seconds, bringing a sheen of sweat to the old man's brow.

"Forgive me. My lungs aren't what they once were," he managed at last, tucking the napkin into his sleeve. "As I was saying, Riagil could not bring himself to welcome you. Lady Amali will not even speak your name, despite her support of Klia's cause. If our allies cannot bear your presence, what will our opponents make of it? If it were up to me, I would send you back to Skala at once rather than risk jeopardizing the task our queen has set us."

"I'll bear that in mind, my lord," Seregil replied with the same false composure that had worried Alec earlier. Rising from the pallet, he wrapped himself in a clean sheet and left the room without a backward glance.

Swallowing his own anger, Alec followed, leaving Thero to sort things out as best he could. He caught up to Seregil in the garden court and reached to halt him. Seregil shook off his hand and strode on.

Back in their chamber, he tugged on a pair of doeskin breeches and used the sheet to dry his hair. "Come along now, make yourself presentable, my ya'shel," he said, face still obscured.

Alec crossed, the room and grasped his wrist, pulling the cloth away. Seregil glared at him through a tangled mass of hair, cold fury burning in his eyes. Pulling roughly away again, he grabbed a comb and yanked it through his hair hard enough to pull out several strands.

"Give me that before you hurt yourself!" Shoving Seregil down into a chair, Alec took the comb and set to work more gently, working out the knots, then settling into a soothing rhythm as if currying a high-spirited horse. Anger radiated from Seregil like heat, but Alec ignored it, knowing it was not directed at him.

"Do you think Torsin really intended—?"

"It's exactly what he intended," Seregil fumed. "For him to say that, and in front of those attendants—as if I need to be reminded why I have no name in my own country!"

Alec set the comb aside and drew Seregil's damp head back

against his chest, cupping his friend's thin cheeks in his hands. "It doesn't matter. You're here because Idrilain and Adzriel want you here. Give the rest time. You've been nothing but a legend here for forty years. Show them who you've become."