"Let the khirnari lead us?" Beka asked in dismay.

The princess fixed her with a look that brooked no argument.

"My lady accepts your pledge," Beka told Nazien grudgingly.

"We're losing time! Someone give me a hand here, damn it," snapped Alec.

"Sergeant, see to the horses. Corporal Kallas, you and Arbelus take charge of the prisoner," Beka ordered. "Mirn, Steb, you help Alec carry Klia back to the clearing. Someone will have to ride double with her."

"I will," said Alec. "Just give me an escort who can keep up."

Later Alec would recall little of that long, frantic ride except the flash of Nyal's sen'gai through the trees ahead of him and the feel of Klia's struggle for breath as he held her.

Somewhere behind them, Sergeant Braknil followed with the Haman prisoner under guard, but just now he didn't care if he saw any of them again, so long as he got Klia back to the city before it was too late.

He tightened his grip around her, trying to keep her upright without impeding her increasingly labored breathing. Her braid had come loose and the wind whipped her hair against his face. Shifting his hold, he pressed her head to his cheek, supporting her as best he could.

If Klia died, then everything they'd worked for was lost. Skala would fall, her brave fighters swept aside by the black tide of Plenimar's soldiers and necromancers—Rhiminee, Watermead, the few places he'd learned to call home, all crushed under the Plenimaran's unchecked onslaught. Words from his vision came back

with new resonance: You are the bird who makes its nest on the waves.

Could that have been a portent of their failure? And what of Seregil? Sent to guide and protect, could there be redemption for him on either side of the Osiat Sea?

By the time the river came into sight Alec's muscles were cramped and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. Urging his horse across the ford, he pushed on, leaving all but Ariani behind. Swiftest of the pack, the Urgazhi scout whipped her foaming horse into a gallop and raced ahead as vanguard.

Seregil was helping Sergeant Mercalle treat a lame horse in the stable court that afternoon when the chilling wail of an Urgazhi battle cry rang out in the distance.

The sergeant looked sharply in the direction of the cry. "That's Ariani!" Whirling to face the startled riders lounging in front of the barracks house, she barked, "Raise the alarm! There's trouble!"

The cry came again, closer now, and the sound of it raised the hair on the back of Seregil's neck as he ran for the street. Kheeta, Rhylin, and the men of the current watch stood on the upper steps, shading their eyes.

"Here she comes!" Rhylin shouted.

Ariani came into sight down the street, her blond braid flying. Reaching them, she reined in sharply. "A Haman attacked Klia!" she cried as her lathered horse wheezed and sidled. "Alec's bringing her. They're right behind me. By the Four, send for a healer!"

Kheeta dashed off.

"How bad?" Seregil demanded.

"One of the Haman tried to strangle her."

"Which Haman?"

"I'm not sure, my lord, but Alec caught the son of a whore at it."

"Where was the captain?" asked Mercalle.

"Never mind that now!" barked Seregil. "There's a shutter there in the hall. Fetch it, quickly!"

A small group of riders had come into sight down the street and he saw Alec in the forefront, clutching a limp body against him one-armed. Beka, Nyal, and the Haman khirnari trailed behind him.

Reaching the house, Alec reined in, his face white with anger or exhaustion. From the looks of his bloodied right hand, he'd fought for her.

"Is she alive?" Seregil asked, gripping Windrunner's head stall.

"I think so," Alec rasped, still clasping her. "Seregil, it was Emiel. He did this."

"Bastard!" Memories of surrendering himself to the hands of that man hit Seregil like a fresh kick in the gut. He fought them down and helped Mercalle lift Klia down onto the shutter, thankful that the others knew nothing yet of the use it had already seen that day.

Mercalle and Beka hovered just behind Seregil as he knelt over Klia and pushed the tangled hair back from her face. She was cold and her breath came in tortured gasps. The delicate skin beneath her eyes was tinged an ominous blue. Examining her hands, Seregil saw that some of the nails were thinly edged with dried blood.

Good for you! he thought. With any luck, he'd leave a few marks on Emiel himself before the day was over.

She gave a choked gasp and opened her eyes.

"It's all right," he said, clasping her hand.

Klia's fingers closed over his in a punishing grip. Her mouth moved, forming soundless words.

"What is she saying?" asked Alec, crouched beside him.

Seregil leaned down, ear close to her lips.

"No—no vengeance," she managed. No teth—"

"No teth'sag?"

She nodded. "My order. The treaty—all that matters."

"We understand, Commander," Beka grated out. "I'll bear witness to it."

"And so will I," Mercalle rasped, tears coursing down her lined cheeks.

Unable to move or say more, Klia searched each of them out with despairing eyes, as if to impress her will on them.

Seregil had once seen a fellow traveler swept beneath the ice of a river. It had been clear but too thick to break through. Still alive, the man had stared up into Seregil's eyes with the same burning desperation for an instant before the current dragged him away.

Klia went limp, and he felt anxiously at her throat for a pulse.

"Her heart is still strong," he told the others, reluctantly letting go of her hand. "Where's Emiel? Teth'sag or not, he's going to answer for this."

"Just behind us, under guard," Beka replied.

Seregil drew Klia's dagger from its sheath. "She didn't have time to defend herself."

"I noticed that." Alec dismounted and leaned unsteadily against his horse's side. "He must have taken her by surprise."

Beka bowed her head. "I failed her."

"No, Captain, the guilt lies on my clan," Nazien i Hari told her, his voice hollow with grief. "Your princess should have needed no protection among my people."

"There'll be time enough for all that later. Get her inside!" Seregil ordered.

Thero met them in the hall and took charge. "Here, lay her on the table. There's no time to be lost. The rest of you, get back. Give her air." He bent over Klia and pressed his hands to her temples, throat, and chest.

Meanwhile, Seregil opened the front of her tunic to inspect the wounds there more closely. The skin between her chin and the breast band she wore beneath her linen shirt was scored with shallow scratches.

Braknil came to the door, helmet in hand. "How is she?"

"Alive," Alec told him.

"Ah, thank the Four! We've got the Haman under guard in the stable yard."

"I'll be out shortly," said Seregil, still focused on Klia.

Mydri hurried in with Kheeta on her heels. "By the Light, what's happened?"

"Alec will explain," Seregil told her. Leaving Klia to those who could best help her, he headed for the yard.

Good for you, Alec, he thought again, seeing Emiel's battered face. The young Haman sat on a low stool, ignoring the armed soldiers surrounding him. The rest of the Haman hunting party stood dourly behind him. Braknil's riders had their swords drawn and looked as if a single word from their sergeant would be all the orders they needed to cut the accused to pieces.

Nazien stood a little apart, grey with shame.

You've worn your hatred for me like a mark of honor, Seregil thought with satisfaction. Perhaps now you'll savor my family s shame a bit less.

The accused was another matter. Emiel showed his usual contempt as Seregil came to a halt just in front of him.

"Alec i Amasa says he saw you attack Princess Klia," Seregil said.