Braknil was short a few riders as well; Orandin and Adis had been too badly burned at sea to continue and had remained aboard the Zyria for the return voyage.

The remaining members of Urgazhi Turma seemed out of sorts.

"Did you hear?" Tare grumbled to Alec. "We have to ride blindfolded parts of the way, for hell's sake!"

"It's always been that way for foreigners, even before the Edict," Seregil told him. "Only the Aurenfaie and Dravnian tribesmen who live in the mountains can pass over freely."

"How are we supposed to get over a mountain pass blind?" Nikides muttered.

"I'll just move my patch over to my good eye," Steb offered with a grin.

"He won't let you come to any harm, Corporal," Seregil assured Nikides, pointing to the Akhendi clansman sitting his horse nearby. "It would blemish his honor."

Nikides glowered at his escort. "I'll be sure to beg his pardon when I'm falling to my death."

"He's worried about falling," Alec explained to the Akhendi.

"He can ride double with me," the man offered, patting his horse's rump.

Nikides scowled, needing no interpreter. "I'll manage."

The man shrugged, "He can suit himself, but at least get him to accept this." Pulling a piece of wild gingerroot from a belt pouch, he tossed it to Nikides, who examined it distrustfully. "And tell him my name is Vanos."

"Some get queasy riding blind," Seregil explained. "Chew this if you do. And you might thank Vanos here for the consideration."

"The word is 'chypta'," Alec added helpfully.

Nikides turned rather sheepishly to his escort and held up the root. "Chypta."

"You welkin," Vanos replied with a friendly grin.

"Looks like they'll have lots to talk about," Alec chuckled. "Hope you brought some of that root for me."

Seregil took a piece from a wallet at his belt and presented it to him. "A disgrace to one talimenios is a disgrace to both. It would reflect poorly on me if you showed up covered in puke. And don't worry, most of the time you'll ride with your eyes open."

Riding to the head of the column, they fell in behind Klia and her hosts.

"My friends, we now begin the last leg of your long journey," Riagil announced. "It's a well-traveled route, but there are dangers. First among these are the young dragons, those larger than a lizard but smaller than an ox. Should you meet with one, be still and avert your eyes. Under no circumstances must you hunt or attack them."

"And if they attack first?" Alec whispered, recalling what Seregil had told them aboard the Zyria.

Seregil motioned him to silence.

"The youngest ones, fingerlings we call them, are fragile creatures," Riagil continued. "If you kill one by accident, you must undergo several days purification. To willfully kill one invokes the curse of its brethen, and brings that curse on your clan unless your people see to it that you are punished.

"Any animal that speaks is sacred and must not be harmed or

hunted. These are the khtir'bai, inhabited by the khi of great wizards and rhui'auros."

"If we're not supposed to harm anything, why are you all armed?" Alec asked one of their escort, who carried bows and longswords.

"There are other dangers," he told him. "Rock lions, wolves, sometimes even teth'brimash."

"Teth' what?"

"People cut off from their clan for some dishonor," Seregil explained. "Some of them turn outlaw."

"I'm honored to guide you," Riagil concluded. "You are the first Tir to visit Sarikali in centuries. Aura grant that this be the first of many journeys shared by our people."

The road into the mountains started out broad and level, but as it left the foothills and twisted along the edge of a jagged precipice, Alec began to share Nikides's doubts about riding blind. Looking up, he could see the gleam of snow still clinging to the sides of peaks.

Seregil had other concerns.

"I'd say a bond was forming there, wouldn't you?" he asked under his breath, his expression neutral as he nodded slightly toward Beka and the interpreter.

"He's a handsome man, and a friendly one." Alec rather liked the garrulous Ra'basi, in spite of Seregil's reservations. For Beka's sake, he hoped that his friend's celebrated intuition was off its mark this time. "How old would you say he is?"

Seregil shrugged. "Eighty or so."

"Not so old for her, then," Alec observed.

"By the Light, don't go marrying them off yet!"

"Who said anything about marriage?" Alec teased.

Beka waved and rode over to them. "I've been bragging up your archer's skills all morning, Alec."

"Is this the famous Black Radly?" Nyal asked.

Alec passed the bow to him, and Nyal ran a hand over its long limbs of polished black yew.

"I've never seen a finer one, or such wood. Where does it comes from?"

"A town called Wolde, up in the northlands beyond Mycena." Alec showed him the maker's mark scrimshawed on the ivory arrow plate: a yew tree with the letter R woven into its upper branches.

"Beka tells me you destroyed a dyrmagnos with it. I've heard legends of these monstrous beings! What did it look like?"

"A dried corpse with living eyes," Alec replied, suppressing a shudder of revulsion at the memory. "I only struck the first blow, though. It took more than that to destroy her."

"To harm such a creature at all is a wizard's task," Nyal said, handing the bow back. "Perhaps someday you will tell me of it, but I believe I owe you a tale today. A long ride is a good time for a story, no?"

"A very good time," Alec replied.

"Beka tells me you did not know your mother or her people, so I'll begin at the beginning. Long ago, before the Tir came to the northern lands, a woman named Hazadriel claimed to have been given a vision journey by Aura, the god you call Illior in the north."

Alec smiled as he listened. Nyal sounded just like Seregil, launching into one of his long tales.

"In this vision a sacred dragon showed to her a distant land and told her she would make a new clan there. For many years Hazadriel traveled Aurenen, telling of her vision and calling for followers. Many dismissed her as mad, or chased her off as a troublemaker. But others welcomed her until eventually she and a great army of people sailed from Bry'kha; they were never heard from again and given up as lost until many generations later when Tir traders brought tales of 'faie living in a land of ice far north of their own. It was only then that we learned they had taken the name of their leader, Hazadriel, as their own. Until then, they were simply referred to as the Kalosi, the Lost Ones. You, Alec, are the first to ever come to Aurenen claiming kinship with them."

"Then I can't trace my family to any one Aurenen clan?" Alec said, disappointed.

"What a pity not to have known your own people."

Alec shook his head. "I'm not so sure. According to Seregil, they didn't take much of Aurenfaie hospitality with them."

"It's true," Seregil told him. "The Hazadrielfaie have a reputation for enforcing their own isolation. I had a brush with them once, and almost didn't live to tell about it."

"You never told me that!" Beka exclaimed indignantly.

Nor me, Alec thought in surprise, but held his tongue.

"Well, it was a very brief brush," he admitted, "and not a pleasant one. The first time I traveled to the northlands, before I met Beka's father, I heard an old bard telling tales of what he called the Elder Folk. Alec here grew up hearing those same stories, never suspecting it was his own people they were talking about.

"I hounded the poor fellow for all he knew, along with every other storyteller I met for the next year or so. I suppose that was the beginning of my education as a bard. At any rate, I finally got enough out of the tales to trace them to a place in the Ironheart Mountains called Ravensfell Pass. Hungry for the sight of another 'faie face, I struck off in search of them."