"By the time we stopped for the midday meal she. seemed better. She shared part of a roast kutka with Beka and me, drank a little wine—" Alec closed his eyes, picturing the meal. "Nazien offered her cheese and bread. But I saw him eat from the same portions."

"The poisoning could have been accidental," said Mydri. "Did she eat anything wild besides the wintergreen? Berries, mushrooms? The scent of caramon buds is tempting, but they're dangerous even in small amounts."

Seregil shook his head. "She knows better than that."

The sound of retching came from inside the dhima and went on for several minutes. When it subsided the woman nursing Klia handed a basin out to Mydri. She inspected the contents closely, then passed it to another servant to carry away. "It appears you are correct, Alec."

"What about snakebite?" suggested Thero.

"There are no snakes in Aurenen, only dragons," Seregil said.

Mydri shrugged. "The sweating and purges should help. That and some strengthening magic are all we can do for now. She's survived this long. Perhaps this will pass."

"Perhaps?" Alec rasped.

Sergeant Mercalle entered hesitantly, dispatch pouch in hand. "Captain? I was about to send this when we got the news about Lord Torsin, so I held it for the Commander's return." She cast a mournful look at the dhima. "It's sealed and ready to go, but shouldn't someone write Queen Phoria about what's happened?"

Beka looked over at Seregil and the others. "Who do I take orders from now?"

"That would be you, Thero," said Seregil. "You're the last Skalan standing with any noble blood in him. The Iia'sidra certainly won't deal with me."

" Thero nodded gravely. "Very well. Send it as it is, Captain. We'll inform the queen of her sister's illness when we have determined the cause. It's unwise to risk spreading rumor without facts."

Mercalle saluted. "And the Haman, my lord?"

Thero looked to Seregil. "You're my adviser now. What do we do with them?"

"Hold Emiel, but let Nazien and the rest go back to their tupa under pledge of honor. Don't worry. He won't go anywhere, and if any of his people make a dash for it, we'll know who our poisoner is. Beka, station some of your people to keep an eye on them, but discreetly."

"I'll see to it myself," she assured him.

31 DEATHWATCH

A sense of foreboding enveloped the household. All through the night the servants went quietly on about their business, cooking food that went uneaten, turning down beds no one slept in. Lord Torsin lay forgotten for the moment.

Leaving Klia in Mydri's care, Seregil enlisted Alec, Thero, and Adzriel to go over every flask, knife, and piece of jewelry confiscated from the Haman. Neither sharp eyes nor magic turned up any evidence of poison.

"You said yourself they wouldn't keep anything that would give them away," Alec insisted. "I want to go back to that clearing. There wasn't time to look around properly before."

"If Klia touched the object that contained the poison, I could locate it," offered Thero.

"You're needed here," Seregil told him.

"Saaban has the gift," said Adzriel. "He knows the way to the clearing, as well. Shall I ask him to make arrangements?"

"If we leave before dawn, we'll be back by midday," Alec added.

"I suppose you'd better," said Seregil. "Where's Nyal, by the way?"

"I haven't seen him since you got back," said Thero. "Perhaps he's with Beka?"

"The one time I want the man and he's nowhere to be found," Seregil grumbled,

suddenly weary beyond words. "Fetch him. He may have heard something of use."

The night wore on. The three of them sat on the floor beside the dhima, listening to Mydri's soft songs of healing through the felt walls; now and then each took a turn inside.

Sitting by Klia, hair and clothes plastered damply against his skin, Seregil allowed his mind to wander back to the dhimas beneath the Nha'mahat and the rhui'auros's words to him there: Smiles conceal knives. The Haman had certainly been smiling when they rode out that morning.

He didn't know he was dozing until Mydri touched his arm.

"You should rest," she said, yawning herself.

Thero and Alec were asleep where they sat just outside the dhima. Seregil passed them silently and went to the window to cool his face. Looking out, he saw the dwindling moon disappearing behind the western towers.

Almost Illior's Moon, he thought. Or rather, Aura's Bow. He was back among his people at last; it was time he started thinking like a 'faie.

" You 're a child of Aura, a child of Illior," Lhial had told him. Aura Elustri, creator of the 'faie, mother of dragons. Illior Lightbearer, patron of wizards, madmen, and thieves. Light and darkness. Male and female. Wisdom and madness.

Different faces for all comers, thought Seregil, smiling as he slipped out the window and set off for the stable yard. Just like me.

The barracks were heavily guarded, but the long building itself was empty except for Kallas, Steb, and Mirn standing guard over their sullen prisoner. Emiel sat on a pallet in the corner furthest from the door. A clay lamp hanging overhead cast an uncertain light across the prisoner's face. Emiel didn't look up at Seregil's approach but sat staring put a tiny window under the eaves, watching the moon.

"Leave us," Seregil ordered the guards. When they hesitated, he added impatiently, "Lend me a sword, and stay by the door. I promise you, he won't get past me."

Steb gave Seregil his sword and moved off with the others.

Seregil walked slowly over to the prisoner.

"Here to murder another Haman, Exile?" Emiel asked, as calmly as if inquiring about the weather.

"I have one too many of your people on my conscience as it is." Seregil rested the blade point on the floor. This was the first time

since Nysander's death that he'd allowed himself to touch a sword; it felt awkward in his hand. "However, teth'sag is not murder, is it?"

The Haman's gaze did not waver. "To kill me here would be murder."

"But for you to kill my kinswoman, Klia a Idrilain, was that teth'sag?"

"She's dead?"

"Answer my question. If a Haman killed Klia a Idrilain, would it be teth'sag against Bokthersa? Against me?"

"No, the tie is too distant." Emiel rose to his feet and faced him. "Even if it weren't, I would never bring shame on my clan for the likes of you. You are dead to us, Exile, a ghost come to haunt a little while. You disturb the khi of my murdered kinsman with your presence, but you'll soon be gone. I can be patient."

"Patient as you were the night you and your friends met me in Haman tupa?"

Emiel returned to his contemplation of the moon, but Seregil heard him chuckle.

"Answer me this, then."

"I told you before, Exile, I have nothing to say to you."

Seregil gauged the man before him, then slid the sword away. It clattered and spun across the uneven boards, drawing startled looks from the guards.

"Stay there unless I call for you," Seregil told them, waving Steb and the others away. He moved closer to Emiel, stopping just inches away and lowering his voice. "The Haman are great bargainers. Here's an even trade for you. Answer my question and earn another taste of teth'sag. Right here. Right now."

Emiel turned away slightly, and Seregil mistook the move for a refusal. An instant later, he found himself flat on his back with blood in his mouth. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and the entire left side of his head had gone numb where Emiel's fist had caught him.

Steb and the others were nearly on Emiel by the time Seregil had gathered his wits. "No! S'all right. Go 'way," he managed, staggering to his feet. The look the corporal gave him warned that he'd be explaining himself to Beka later. Or worse yet, to Alec, who'd probably offer to even up the two sides of his head for him. No time to worry about that now.