"Find out anything in Khatme tupa?" Seregil asked hopefully.

"Well, no. Not there." Steeling himself, Alec plunged into a hurried account of his findings in Torsin's room, what he'd seen between Nyal and Amali momentarily forgotten.

Seregil stared a him incredulously, then whispered, "You burgled Torsin's room? Bilairy's Balls, didn't I tell you to wait?"

"Yes, and if I'd listened to you we wouldn't have this, would we?" Alec showed him the Viresse tassel. "What's the matter with you? A member of Klia's own delegation sneaks out to talk to the enemy and you say wait? Back in Rhiminee you'd have been in there last night yourself!"

Seregil glared at him a moment, then shook his head. "It's not the same here. This isn't the Plenimarans we're dealing with. The Aurenfaie are Skala's allies in spirit if not in actual fact. It's not as if they're likely to be plotting her assassination. And Torsin?"

"But this could be the proof Klia was looking for, about his divided loyalty."

"I've been thinking about that. It's not sympathy that would make Torsin court Ulan's favor. He's worried that we could lose all by offending the Viresse: not get Gedre, and lose our port in Viresse in the bargain. Still, if he did go behind her back to do it—?"

"How did he seem at the Iia'sidra?"

"Any guilty glances or secret nods exchanged, you mean?" Seregil asked with a crooked grin. "None that I saw. The one possibility we haven't considered is that he was acting on Klia's behalf, and that it's the rest of us who aren't supposed to know."

"Well, that brings us right back to my original question. What do we do?"

Seregil shrugged. "We're Watchers. We'll watch."

"Speaking of watching people, I saw Nyal and Amali together again early this morning."

"Oh?" This clearly piqued Seregil's interest. "What were they up to?"

"She was upset about her husband and it was Nyal she turned to."

"They were lovers once. Clearly there's still a bond there," said Seregil. "What was it she was upset about?"

"I didn't hear everything, but it sounded like this debate is taking a toll on Rhaish."

Seregil frowned. "That's not good. We need him strong. Do you think Amali and Nyal are still secretly lovers?"

Alec thought back over the morning's scene: Amali clinging to the tall Ra'basi, the anger he'd seen in the man's face at the mere hint of abuse. "I don't know."

"I think it's time we found out, and not just for Klia's sake. Let's see if Adzriel knows more than she's been letting on."

They found Adzriel sitting with Saaban in her colos.

"Nyal and Amali?" Saaban chuckled when Seregil broached the subject. "Have you two been gossiping in the taverns?"

"Not exactly," Seregil hedged. "I've heard a few rumors, and Nyal's been showing a lot of attention to Beka Cavish; if he's leading her on, I mean to take steps."

"They were lovers before her marriage to Rhaish i Arlisandin," Adzriel said. "A sad story, the stuff of ballads."

"What happened?"

Adzriel shrugged. "She chose duty over love, I suppose, marrying the khirnari of her clan rather than an outsider. But I know she's grown to love Rhaish dearly; it's Nyal who carries the pain of that decision. He strikes me as the sort of man who does not stop loving even when his love is turned away. Perhaps Beka can heal his heart."

"Just so long as he doesn't break hers in the process. Rhaish is getting long in years. Is he well?"

"I've been wondering that myself. He doesn't seem himself; the strain of the negotiations, no doubt."

"He's known more than his share of sorrows, too," said Saaban. "He's seen two wives die, one barren, one in childbed, along with the child. Now Amali carries their first child. That's bad enough by itself, but to be khirnari and watch your people suffer as his do—I can only imagine how much this business weighs on his mind. I suspect Amali wanted nothing more from Nyal than a shoulder to cry on."

"Try as I may to dislike the man, I hear nothing but good spoken of him," Seregil muttered as they walked back to their room.

"The Akhendi khirnari?" asked Alec.

"No, Nyal. Caring for the lover who threw you over shows more character than I have."

Alec allowed himself a smug grin. "See? I knew you were wrong about him."

Amali huddled in darkness by the bedchamber window, fighting back tears as Rhaish thrashed again in his sleep. He would not tell her what his dreams were, though they grew worse every night, making him sweat and groan. If she woke him he would cry out, glaring at her with mad, sightless eyes.

Amali a Yassara was no stranger to fear; she'd seen her family skirt starvation, driven by it out of the lands they knew to live like beggars in the streets of successive towns and cities across Akhendi. She'd let Nyal heal her fears for a time, but he wanted to take her away, to wander like a teth'brimash again. It was Rhaish who'd saved her, lifted her up and made her proud again to wear the sen'gai of her people. Her parents and brothers ate at the khirnari's table now, and she carried the khirnari's son under her heart. Before the Skalans had come, bearing hope, she had felt safe. Now her husband shouted madness in his sleep.

With a guilty shudder, she felt in the pocket of her nightdress for the warding charm Nyal had given her to mend. It wasn't his, but it was a link to him, an excuse to meet again when she'd finished with it. Her fingers stroked the crude knots of the wristband: a child's work, but effective. Nyal's fingers had brushed her palm as he'd given it to her when they first arrived at the House of Pillars. She let herself savor the memory of that touch, and those that followed; his fingers on her hair, his arms around her, shielding her for a little while from all her fears and worries. It wasn't the Ra'basi she ached for now, but the sense of peace he'd always been able to give her— just never for long enough.

She pushed the charm back into her pocket, her talisman to summon that comfort again if she needed it. Drying her tears, she found a soft cloth and went to wipe her beloved's brow.

18 MAGYANA

Cool mountain air against her face. Jagged peaks against a flawless sky. One more pass to traverse and she'd be on the high plains beyond. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the mingled scents of wet stone, wild thyme, and the sweat steaming from her horse's withers.

Freedom. Nothing ahead of her but endless days of exploration —

Magyana jerked out of her doze as the quill slipped from her fingers. Her mouth was dry. The stale, overheated air inside the queen's tent made her head ache. The dream had been so clear—for just an instant a flash of resentment overwhelmed her. Inever asked for this!

Retrieving the fallen pen, Magyana trimmed it and settled resignedly back in her chair. Freedom was an illusion she'd been able to maintain too well for too many years. The gifts that raised a wizard to the highest levels of the Oreska came with a price— different for each, according to their talents.

The bill for her wandering years had come due, and here she sat, unable to do more than watch over the best of queens as Idrilain fought death, her final adversary.

Being Idrilain, she had managed to rally, at least for a time. Klia's departure for Aurenen had somehow buoyed her. In the month since,

she clung doggedly to life, even putting on a little flesh as the infection in her lungs receded. Most days she hovered in a murky half-sleep, surfacing now and then into lucid conversation, catching up with a few questions on the progress of the war and Klia's mission, though of the latter there was still cruelly little to report. Neither strong enough nor willing to make the long journey back to Rhiminee, Idrilain was content to remain in what was now essentially Phoria's camp. As Queen's Wizard, Magyana remained with her, trapped in this stuffy tent, surrounded by medicine vessels and the heavy smell of illness and an old woman dying—