Seregil rounded on the eavesdropper with poorly concealed annoyance. "It seems to be the prevailing attitude."

"Princess Klia's success means a great deal to the Akhendi," the Ra'basi observed. "I doubt she would judge your past so harshly if it did not pose a threat to her own interests."

"You seem to know much about her."

"As I told you, I am a traveler. One learns much that way." Bowing politely, he wandered off into the crowd.

Seregil watched him go, then exchanged a dark look with Alec. "Remarkable hearing that man has."

The gathering gradually tapered off as restless children disappeared into the shadows beyond the trees and their elders made their farewells to the Skalans. Released from social obligations at last, Alec had retreated to the company of Beka and her riders. When Seregil rose at last to take his leave, however, Riagil stayed him with a gesture.

"Do you remember the moon garden court?" asked the khirnari. "As I recall, it was a favorite haunt of yours."

"Of course.".

"Would you care to see it again?"

"Very much, Khirnari," Seregil replied, wondering where this unexpected overture would lead.

They walked in silence through the warren of dwellings to a small courtyard at the far side of the enclosure. Unlike the other gardens, where colored blossoms contrasted vividly against sun-baked walls, this place was made for the meditations of the night. It was filled with every sort of white flower, medicinal herb, and silvery-leafed plant, banked like drifted snow in beds along paths paved with black slate. Even under the waning crescent that rode the stars tonight, the blossoms glowed in the darkness. Overhead, tubular paper kites with calligraphy-covered streamers rustled on wires, breathing their painted prayers on the night breeze.

The two men stood quietly awhile, admiring the perfection of the place.

Presently Riagil let out a long sigh. "I once carried you sleeping to your bed from here. It seems not so long ago."

Seregil winced. "I'd be mortified if any of my Tir companions heard you say that."

"We are not Tir, you and I," Riagil said, his face lost for a moment in shadow. "Yet I see now that you've grown strange among them, older than your years."

"I always was. Perhaps it runs in the family. Look at Adzriel, a khirnari already."

"Your eldest sister is a remarkable woman. Akaien i Solun was glad enough to hand the title to her as soon as she was of age. But be that as it may, the Iia'sidra will still perceive you as a stripling, and the queen as a fool for employing you as an emissary."

"If I've learned anything among the Tir, it's the value of being underestimated."

"Some might interpret that as a lack of honor."

"It's better to lack the semblance of honor but possess it than to possess the semblance and lack the honor."

"What a unique point of view," Riagil murmured, surprising Seregil with a smile. "Still, it has its merits. Adzriel brought favorable news of you from Rhiminee. Seeing you today among your companions, I believe her hopes are justified."

He paused, his face serious again. "You are a sort of two-edged blade, my boy, and as such will I employ you. Gedre has slowly withered since the Edict was imposed, like a vine whose roots are cut. It is the same for Akhendi, who shared in the trade through our

port. Klia must succeed if we are to survive as we are. Trade with the north must be reestablished. Whatever the Iia'sidra decides, let your princess know what Gedre will support her cause."

"She has no doubt of that," Seregil assured him.

"Thank you. I shall sleep more peacefully tonight. Let me leave you with this." Riagil drew a sealed parchment from his belt and handed it to him. "It is from your sister. Welcome home, Seregil i Korit."

Seregil's throat tightened painfully at the sound of his true name. Before he could reply, Riagil tactfully withdrew, leaving him alone with the soft rustle of the kites.

He rubbed a thumb over the tree and dragon imprint in the wax, imagining his father's heavy seal ring on his sister's slender finger. Prying the wax up with a thumbnail, he unfolded the sheet.

Adzriel had tucked a few dried wandril flowers into the letter. Crushing the faded red petals between his fingers, he inhaled their spicy scent as he read.

"Welcome home, dear brother," the letter began, "for so I address you in my heart even if it is forbidden elsewhere. My heart breaks that I cannot yet claim you openly as kin. When we meet, know that it is circumstance that prevents me, not coldness on my part. Instead, I thank you for undertaking this most painful and dangerous task.

"Asking for your inclusion was no sudden inspiration. The first glimmer of it was already in my mind during our all-too-brief reunion that night in Rhiminee. Aura's blessings on Nysander's poor khi that he told me of your true work. Take care for the safety of our kinswoman, and may Aura guard you until we embrace again at Sarikali. I have so much to tell you, Haba. — Adzriel"

Haba.

The tightness in his throat returned as he reread the precious letter, committing it to memory.

"At Sarikali," he whispered to the kites.

9 INTO AURENEN

The sound of small wings woke Seregil the next morning. Opening his eyes, he saw a chukaree perched on the windowsill, its green plumage shining like Bry'kha enamel work as it preened its stubby tail. He willed it to drop a feather, but it had no gift for him today; with a liquid trill, it fluttered away.

Judging by the brightness of the window, they'd overslept. The distant jangling of harness warned that Beka's riders were already making ready to go.

Yet he lay quiet a moment longer, savoring the feeling of Alec's warm body still wound contentedly around his own, and the comfort of a proper bed. They'd made good use of it, he thought with sleepy satisfaction.

His fragile sense of peace slipped away all too quickly. The coat thrown carelessly over a chair caught his eye like an accusation, bringing with it the memory of Torsin's words and those of Riagil. As the khirnari had so succinctly pointed out, life among the Tir had forced him to grow up far more quickly than the friends he'd left behind. He'd known more of death and violence, intrigue and passion than most 'faie twice his age. How many of the youngsters he'd played with had killed anyone, let alone the uncounted numbers he had in his years as Watcher, thief, and spy?

He stroked the arm draped over his chest, smoothing the fine golden hairs. Most 'faie his age hadn't even left the family hearth yet, much less made such a bond with anyone.

Who am I?

The question, so easy to ignore all those years in Rhiminee, was staring him in the face now.

Sounds of morning activity grew louder outside their window. Sighing regretfully, he ran a finger down the bridge of Alec's nose. "Wake up, tali."

"Morning already?" Alec mumbled blearily.

"There's no fooling you, is there? Come, it's time to move on."

The central courtyard was filled with people and horses. Urgazhi and Akhendi riders were busy loading a string of packhorses; others were gathered around smoking braziers where Gedre cooks were serving a hasty breakfast. Nyal clearly had his hands full, Seregil thought, watching the man with growing dislike.

"It's about time!" Beka called, seeing them. "Klia's looking for you. You'd better grab something to eat with us while you can."

"No one woke us," Seregil muttered, wondering if the slight had been intentional.

Begging fry bread and sausage at the nearest brazier, he and Alec ate as they wandered among the riders, picking up details.

Two of Mercalle's six remaining riders, Ari and Marten, were remaining behind with Corporal Zir to serve as dispatch couriers, carrying messages that would come by ship from Skala. The others would do the same from Sarikali.