"Well, that's a start." Seregil moved to put an arm around him, but Alec pulled away.

"Is there a clan called the Akavi'shel?"

"Not that I know of. The word means 'many bloods. »

Alec bowed his head as more tears came. "Just another word for mongrel. Always and never—"

"What else did he tell you?" Seregil asked softly.

"That I'd never have any children."

Alec's evident distress took Seregil by surprise. "The rhui'auros are seldom that clear about anything," he offered. "What exactly did he say?"

"That I would father a child of no mother," Alec replied. "Seems clear enough to me."

It did, and Seregil kept quiet for a moment, working it around in his mind. At last he said, "I didn't know you wanted children."

Alec let out a harsh sound, half-laugh, half-sob. "Neither did I! I mean, I'd never given it a lot of thought before. It was just something I assumed would happen sooner or later. Any man wants children, doesn't he? To carry his name?"

The words went through Seregil like a blade. "Not me," he replied quickly, trying to make light of the matter. "But then, I wasn't raised

a Dalnan. You didn't think I was going to bear you any babes, did you?"

The bond between them was too strong for him to mask his sudden flash of fear and anger. One look at Alec's stricken face told him he'd gone too far.

"Nothing will ever separate us," Alec whispered.

This time he didn't resist as Seregil embraced him, but instead clutched him closer.

Seregil held him, stroking his back and marveling at this fierce blend of love and pain.

"The rhui'auros—" Alec's voice was muffled against Seregil's neck. "I can't even explain what I saw, or how it felt. Bilairy's Balls, I see now why you hate that place!"

"No matter what you think they showed you up there, tali, you won't lose me. Not as long as I have breath in my body."

Alec clung to him a moment longer, then stepped back and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"I watched my mother die. I felt it." There was still a deep sorrow in him, but also awe. "She died to save me, but my father never spoke of her. Not once."

Seregil stroked a stray strand of hair back from Alec's cheek. "Some things are too hurtful to speak of. He must have loved her very much."

Alec's face took on a faraway look for a moment, as if he were seeing something Seregil couldn't. "Yes, he did." He wiped at his eyes again. "What did they want with you?"

Seregil thought again of the maddening glass balls, the snow and filth and the butterfly. Somewhere among those jumbled hints lay a pattern, a link of familiarity.

They are yours:

"I'm not sure."

"Did he say anything about the ban of exile being lifted?»

"It never occurred to me to ask."

Or perhaps I didn't want to hear the answer, he thought.

A great lethargy settled over Seregil as they rode for home. By the time they reached the house and stabled their horses, his bones ached with it.

A few night lamps lit their way upstairs. Alec's arm stole around his waist and he returned the embrace silently, grateful for the contact.

Tired as he was, he barely took note of a sliver of light showing beneath a door on the second floor.

A whisper-gentle touch on Thero's chest had woken him in the middle of the night. Starting up in alarm, he scrutinized the corners of his chamber.

No one was there. The small warding glyphs he'd placed on his door when he'd taken up residence here were undisturbed.

Only after he'd made a complete circuit of the room did he notice the folded parchment lying among the disordered bedclothes.

Snatching it up, he broke the plain wax seal and unfolded it. The small square was blank, except for a tiny sigil in one corner— Magyana's mark.

He paused, hearing footsteps in the corridor outside. Casting a seeking spell, he saw it was only Alec and Seregil and returned his attention to Magyana's message.

Hands, heart, and eyes, he mouthed silently, passing his hand across the sheet. Ink seeped from the parchment, flowing into Magyana's cramped scrawl.

"My dear Thero, I send you sad news in secret and at my own risk. By your Hands, Heart, and Eyes«/emphasis·"

A hard knot of dread crystallized in the young wizard's throat as he read on. When he'd finished he pulled on a robe and stole barefoot to Klia's chamber.

23 A CONVERSATION

Ulan i Sathil rubbed Torsin's token—half a silver sester—between his fingers as he strolled beside the Vhadasoori pool. It was quite dark, and he heard the Skalan before he saw him. The wracking cough was as distinctive as a halloo, echoing faintly over the water. It was always distressing when a Tir began to fail this way, especially one of such value.

Following the sound, Ulan stepped out onto the surface of the pool and glided across to where Torsin stood waiting. It was a good trick—one of many that had not come down to the Skalan wizards—and made a strong impression on the mind of any Tir who witnessed it. It was also much easier on his aching old knees than walking.

Torsin, of course, had seen the trick before and seemed only mildly surprised when Ulan stepped up onto shore.

"Aura's blessings on you, old friend."

"May the Light shine on you," Torsin replied, patting his lips with a handkerchief. "Thank you for meeting me on such short notice."

"A walk under the peace of the stars is one of the few pleasures left to old men like ourselves, is it not?" Ulan replied. "I'd suggest stretching out on the grass to watch the sky as

we used to, but I fear neither of us would regain our feet without help or magic."

"Indeed not." Torsin paused, and Ulan thought he heard regret in the sigh that followed. When Torsin spoke again, however, he was his usual direct self. "The situation in Skala is shifting rapidly. I am now instructed to present you with a tentative counterproposal, one which will most assuredly be more palatable to you."

Instructed by whom, I wonder? thought Ulan.

Linking arms, the two men strolled slowly along the water's edge, speaking too softly now for the slender figure watching from the shadow of a standing stone to hear.

24 BAD NEWS

A brisk rap at the chamber door jerked Seregil awake just before dawn. Still half caught in a nightmare, he sat up mumbling, "Yes? What is it?" The door swung open a few inches and Kheeta peered in at him. "Sorry to come so early, but it's by Klia's order. She wants you and Alec in her chamber at once."

The door closed and Seregil fell back among the pillows, trying to pull together the scattered images of his latest dream. Once again, he'd been trying to save the glass spheres from the rising fire, but each time he tried to gather them, there were more: a handful, a roomful, a dark, limitless vista of the cursed things beneath which unseen monsters burrowed, coming ever closer.

"O Illior, maker of dreams, give me the meaning of this one before it drives me mad!" he whispered aloud. Rolling out of bed, he fumbled in the dark for his boots. "Wake up, Alec. Klia's expecting us."

There was no answer. The other half of the bed was empty, the sheets cool. Alec had been too shaken to sleep after they'd returned from the Nha'mahat. He'd been sitting by the fire when Seregil fell asleep. "Alec?" he called again. His questing fingers found a taper on the mantel and he pushed it about in the banked

ashes on the hearth until he found a live coal. The wick flared at last and he held it up.

Alec was nowhere to be seen.

Puzzled, he finished dressing and set off for Klia's room alone. He was halfway down the corridor when he heard footsteps on the stairs leading to the roof. Here was Alec at last, bleary eyed and still dressed in last night's clothes.