"You do, son of Nysander."

Son of Nysander. Sparks danced in front of his sightless eyes, but Thero held on to the image of his first mentor, the plain, good-humored man he'd too often underestimated. He recalled with shame his own arrogance and how it had blinded him to Nysander's wisdom until it was too late to honor it. He recalled the bitterness he'd felt when Nysander kept him from spells his skill could master but his empty heart could not wisely employ. For an instant he heard his old teacher's voice, patiently explaining, "The purpose of magic is not to replace human endeavor but to aid it." How many times had he said that over the years? How many times had Thero ignored the importance of the words?

The crescent moon wavered into view in front of him, dancing gently over the water's surface far above. Still mired in darkness, Thero felt the power of it breaking in on him, and his mouth stretched wide with joy.

"Balance!"

Like a cork buoy suddenly released, he shot to the surface, shattering the moon's reflection.

"Balance!" he shouted up at it.

"Yes," the voice said approvingly. "Nysander understood better

than any Tir the role of Aura's gifts. We waited for him to come to us, but it was not to be. The task falls to you."

What task? Thero wondered with a thrill of excitement.

"Balance was lost long ago between your people and our own, between the Tir and the Light. Light balances darkness. Silence balances sound. Death balances life. The Aurenfaie preserve the old ways; your kind, left to dance alone for a time, have forged the new."

Thero reached a tentative foot down and found solid ground in easy reach. Wading from the pool, he walked to the lone figure awaiting him, an ancient Bash'wai woman. Her face and skin were black in the moonlight, her hair silver.

Thero fell to his knees in front of her. "Is that why Klia was allowed to come here, and at this time? Did you make this happen?"

"Make?" She chuckled, and her voice was deep, too large for such a frail frame. She stroked his head like a child's. "No, little brother, we only dance the dance with whatever steps we can manage."

Confused, Thero pressed a hand over his eyes, then looked up again. "You said the wizards of Skala would be made whole. What does that mean?"

But the Bash'wai was gone. In her place sat a large dragonling with golden eyes. Before Thero could do more than register its presence, it darted forward between his bare thighs and bit him on the scrotum. Leaping up with a panicked shout, he felt his head connect with something hard and the moon spun away like a dropped ring.

When Thero came to again, he was sprawled facedown and fully clothed just inside the mouth of a tunnel leading off from the main cavern beneath the Nha'mahat.

A vision! he thought in dazed wonder. He shifted to stand up, then pressed flat again, squeezing his eyes shut as fiery talons of pain tightened around his balls. The memory of Alec's bitten earlobe, swelled three times its normal size, presented itself ungraciously, and he let out a groan.

The sound of movement against stone made him open his eyes again. Through a haze of pain, he saw a seated figure uncoil itself from the nearby shadows and resolve into his young guide.

"Lissik." She held a flask down for him to see before disappearing behind him.

A mark of honor, they call these bites! he thought helplessly as

she went about her ministrations. If I survive long enough to heal, how am I ever going to show it off?

People came and went around him. If the sight of a Skalan wizard cackling hysterically on the ground with his robe tucked up around his waist struck any of them as odd, none were so ungracious as to say so in his hearing.

15 DISCOMFORT

Where's Thero?" Alec wondered aloud as they set off for a banquet in Bry'kha tupa that evening. "Gone to visit the rhui'auros," Klia told him. "I'd expected him back by now."

The rain had slacked off to a warm, sullen drizzle. Everyone rode with hoods pulled up, in little clumps behind Klia and Torsin. Alec and Seregil brought up the rear, the closest semblance of privacy they'd had all day. Seizing the opportunity, Alec confided his encounter with Beka and Nyal in the Haunted City.

Seregil took the news more calmly than he'd expected. "According to Thero, Queen Idrilain herself encourages such unions as part of the mission," he said quietly.

Alec glanced around at their Urgazhi escort. "What? Marrying her soldiers off to Aurenfaie?"

Seregil smirked. "I don't think marriage is a priority, but one of the goals of our current mission is to get a healthy infusion of Aurenfaie blood to renew that stock."

"Yes, but—! You mean she hoped Beka and her female riders would come home pregnant?" Alec exclaimed. "I thought they got drummed out for that?"

"The rules have been relaxed for the time being. No one is talking openly about it, but

Thero heard rumors that a bounty has even been offered. I suppose the men are free to bring home any Aurenfaie bride who'll have them, too."

"Bilairy's Balls, Seregil, that's coldhearted, turning the best turma in Skala into breeding stock!"

"When it comes to the survival of a nation, there's not much that's considered beyond the pale. It's not even that unusual. Remember my sojourn among the Dravnians? I kept up my duties as guest, so to speak. Who knows how many of my own offspring are toddling around somewhere up in the Asheks as we speak?"

Alec raised an eyebrow at this. "You're joking."

"I'm not. As for our current situation, it's all for the greater glory of Skala, which makes it honorable enough. How patriotic are you feeling these days?"

Alec ignored the jibe, but found himself watching the Urgazhi more closely during the banquet that followed.

Seregil was eating breakfast with Klia and Torsin in the hall early the next morning when Thero came shuffling in. His face was grey and he held himself as if his insides were made of glass and poorly packed.

"By the Light!" Torsin exclaimed. "My dear Thero, shall I send for a healer?"

"I'm fine, my lord, just a bit under the weather," Thero replied, coming to a halt behind an empty chair and grasping the back of it.

"You're not fine," Klia retorted, turning to look at him.

"It could be river fever," Seregil offered, suspecting it was no such thing. "I'll send for Mydri."

"No!" Thero said quickly. "No, that's not necessary. It's just a slight distemper. It will pass."

"Nonsense. Take him back to his room, Seregil," Klia ordered.

Thero's skin felt hot and clammy, and he leaned heavily on Seregil's arm as he limped back upstairs. Reaching his room, he laid down but refused to undress.

Seregil stood over him, frowning. "So, what happened?"

Thero closed his eyes and ran a hand over his unshaven cheek. "A dragon bit me."

"Bilairy's Balls, Thero! Where in Sarikali did you find one big enough to make you this sick?"

The wizard managed a sickly smile. "Where do you think?"

"Ah, of course. You'd better let me have a look."

"I've used lissik on it already."

"Lissik won't do for large bites. Come on now, where is it? Arm? Leg?"

With a sigh, Thero pulled up the front of his robe.

Seregil's eyes widened. "You said Alec's ear looked like a grape when he got bitten by that little one. This looks more like—"

"I know what it looks like!" Thero snarled, covering himself.

"This needs attention. I'll get something from Mydri. No one has to know the details."

"Thank you," Thero rasped, staring up at the ceiling.

Seregil shook his head. "You know, I've never heard of anyone getting bitten on the—"