"Must I speak to this exile, Khirnari?"

"You will, and truthfully!" Nazien snarled.

Emiel turned back to Seregil with distaste. "Alec i Amasa is mistaken."

"Take off your tunic and shirt."

Standing, Emiel undid his belt with exaggerated slowness, then pulled off the two garments together and tossed them down on the

stool. For all his bravado, however, he flinched at Seregil's touch as he examined Emiel's hands and arms. There were a few fresh scratches on the backs of his hands. Otherwise, the callused fingers and palms showed only the soil of a long day's hunt. His chest, neck, and throat were also unmarked.

"He was seized immediately after the attack?" Seregil asked.

"Yes, my lord," Braknil assured him. "Alec said this man was still choking her when he found them."

"She fell. I was trying to help her," Emiel retorted. "Perhaps it was a fit of some sort. The Tir are prone to disease, or so I hear. You'd know more about that than I."

Seregil resisted the urge to slap the arrogant sneer off the man's face. The arrival of Alec and Kheeta at the kitchen door provided a welcome distraction.

"What does he say?" Alec demanded, striding over to them.

"That he was trying to help her."

Alec lunged for Emiel, but Seregil wrestled him back. "Don't do this," he muttered, close to his ear. "Go back inside and wait. We have to talk." Alec quit struggling, but didn't back off.

"If she dies, Haman, there'll be no dwai sholo for you!" Alec hissed.

"Enough. Go!" Seregil nodded to Kheeta, and the Bokthersan took Alec by the arm, drawing him back inside.

"Do you have anything more to say?" Seregil asked Emiel.

"I've nothing to say to you, Exile."

"Very well. Sergeant, search this man and his saddlebags." He paused, then without looking at Nazien i Hari, added, "Search all the Haman who went today and bring me whatever you find. They're to be held here until you hear differently."

Silence followed him back into the house. Kheeta had Alec cornered in what had been the mourning chamber.

"Klia has been moved to the women's bath," Kheeta told him. "Mydri ordered that a small dhima be set up for her there."

"Say nothing of what you saw out there for now, all right?"

Kheeta nodded and slipped out.

Finally alone, Seregil summoned what little patience he had left and turned his attention to Alec. "I need you to calm down."

Alec glared at him, eyes dark with fear and anger. A soul-deep pain radiated from him; Seregil could feel it tightening his own throat. "Maker's Mercy, Seregil, what if she dies?"

"That's out of our hands. Tell me exactly what you saw. Everything."

"We stopped at a clearing in the hills at midday. We ate a meal and waited for the heat of the day to pass. Emiel offered to show Klia some pools along a stream."

"You heard the invitation?"

"No, I was—distracted," Alec admitted, shamefaced. "Some of his friends challenged me to a shooting match. Klia and Emiel were sitting in the shade talking the last I noticed. After the match they were gone. Beka had seen them, knew where they'd gone. She'd offered to go with them, but Klia said no. She must have been hoping to win Emiel over. Anyway, they couldn't have been alone more than half an hour when I found him wrestling with her on the ground. Her hair and tunic were wet and she was fighting hard. By the time I'd gotten him off her she was having trouble breathing. I got her on a horse and we came here as quickly as we could."

Seregil considered all this, then shook his head, the words he was about to speak already bitter ashes in his mouth. "There's a chance he's telling the truth."

"I saw him! And you've seen the marks on them both."

"The marks on her neck aren't right. There should be bruises, finger marks, but there aren't."

"Damn it, Seregil, I know what I saw!"

Seregil ran a hand back through his hair and sighed. "You know what you think you saw. How did Klia's face look when you first reached her? Was it pale or dark?"

"Pale."

"Damn. There's no bruising on her neck, and the bones here—" He touched a finger to his larynx. "They're undamaged. If she was being strangled, her face would have been dark. I'm not saying he's innocent, just that he didn't choke her. You've got to let go of that, or you'll be no use to me at all."

"But those scratches on her neck?"

"There's blood under her nails, but not his. She did that to herself, clawing at her throat in panic. It's a common reaction to choking. Or poison."

"Poison? We all ate from the same bowls. I shared a wineskin with her myself. It still comes back to Emiel doing something to her down by the water."

"So it would seem. Are you certain no one else was there with them?"

"The ground was so soft in places mice had left tracks. If there'd been anyone else down there in the past two days, I'd have seen signs of them."

"Then let's hope Braknil finds something for us to hang an accusation on, although Emiel doesn't strike me as the type to leave empty poison flasks in his pockets. In the meantime, we've got to be careful what we say."

Alec sank his head into his hands. "Beka's right. We failed. Hell, how could I have been so stupid? An archery contest!"

Kheeta opened the door and looked in. "Alec, Mydri needs you. You're to come right away."

Four riders of Rhylin's decuria were on guard at the bath-chamber door. Beka and Rhylin stood just inside. A scene of quiet chaos lay beyond, but at first all Alec could focus on was the sight of Thero and Seregil's two sisters at work over Klia.

The princess was wrapped in a clean linen robe and lay on a pallet next to one of the small sunken tubs, which had been converted into a fire pit. An iron tripod had been set over the flames, supporting a large, steaming kettle. Thero knelt motionless beside her, eyes closed, holding one of her hands between his.

Mydri was supervising half a dozen servants around the room.

"Is the infusion steeped yet?" she called to a woman working over a nearby brazier. "Morsa, Kerian, finish with that dhima and get it heated!" This last was directed at several men who were struggling to stretch a thick felt cover over a wooden frame.

Kneeling beside Klia, Alec listened to the faint, steady whistle of breath in her throat. Her face had taken on a bluish pallor, and the dark circles around her eyes had deepened alarmingly.

"Look at this," said Seregil, lifting Klia's free hand. The flesh beneath her fingernails had turned a dusky blue. Her bare feet showed the same discoloration up to the ankles, and were icy to the touch.

"She shows signs of poisoning," Mydri said doubtfully, "yet it's like none I've ever seen. None of the usual remedies alleviate her stupor, but still she lives."

Alec looked at Thero again. The wizard was sweating and drawn. "What's he doing?"

"I tried a divining trance," Thero said without opening his eyes. "Some magic blocked my vision, which suggests that whoever did this covered his tracks. Now I'm just lending her strength. Magyana and I did the same for her mother."

The woman at the brazier brought over a cup and began patiently spooning its contents between Klia's lips, a few drops at a time. The workmen finished with the dhima and lifted it to cover Klia, the woman, and the makeshift fire pit.

"From the time you first met with Klia this morning, what did you see her eat?" Mydri asked Alec.

"Almost nothing before we left," Alec replied. "She complained of being wine sick."

"So Beka said, but she did eat later. Just list it off. Whatever you saw the whole day."

"A little bread, an apple. I picked some wintergreen leaves for her in the woods to settle her stomach. I think she nibbled a bit of that. And I'm sure that's what it was. I tasted it myself to be sure.