Did I really expect the rhui'auros to hand me the murderer's weapon? he thought derisively, pocketing it.

Cynril's steady pace calmed him. As his mind cleared, he slowly began combing Elesarit's ravings for whatever message lay concealed there. In his heart, Seregil knew better than to dismiss the words of any rhui'auros as nonsense; their madness masked the face of Illior.

"Illior!" he murmured aloud, realizing that Elesarit had used the

Skalan name for the god rather than Aura. It was like finding the free end in a tangled skein—knots began to unravel as he followed it.

He who has two hearts is twice as strong, ya'shel khi.

Ya'shel khi. Half-breed soul. The words filled him with an odd mix of dread and elation.

He returned to the guest house to find the place in an uproar.

"Klia's awake!" Sergeant Mercalle told him as he hurried in. "She can't move or speak, but her eyes are open."

Seregil didn't wait to hear more. Bounding upstairs, he found Mydri, Thero, and Nyal bending anxiously over the bed.

"Thank Aura!" he exclaimed softly, taking her hand in his. It was bandaged, he noticed, and smelled of herbs and honey. She looked up at him, her eyes aware and full of pain.

"Can you hear me, Klia? Blink if you understand."

Klia's discolored eyelids slowly raised and lowered. The left moved more than the right, which sagged alarmingly.

"Does she know all that's happened, what we've learned so far?" he asked Thero. "Can you tell who did this?"

"Her thoughts are still too confused."

"I'm going to find out," Seregil promised, stroking her cheek. "I swear I'll see teth'sag invoked against them in the Iia'sidra."

Klia gave a small, hoarse groan and her eyes closed.

He motioned the others into the corridor and closed the door. "Does this mean she'll live?"

"It's a hopeful sign," Nyal replied, clearly still cautious. "It could be days before she can speak."

"What about her hand?"

"The area around the wound is spreading," Mydri said.

"You think she could lose it?"

"If the flesh rots, as Nyal expects, then yes. But we must give the poultice time to work."

"Do whatever you have to, short of amputation," Seregil pleaded. "Thero, I need you. Can you come with me to Ulan's?"

The wizard looked at Mydri, who nodded. "Yes, Thero, you've done all you can for now. Go do what you must."

Seregil and Thero arrived at the Iia'sidra to find a solemn gathering awaiting them. It was the right of any khirnari not directly involved to witness the questioning of another, and close to a dozen had

opted to claim the right, among them Khatme, Akhendi, Lhapnos, Golinil, and Ra'basi, Bry'kha, and several lesser clans. Escorted by a small honor guard of Silmai, they proceeded on foot to Viresse tupa. From the outset, Seregil was careful to be seen deferring to Thero.

Ulan greeted them with surprising cordiality. "I would offer you a meal, but given the circumstances, the usual gestures seem inappropriate."

Prepared in advance by Adzriel, Thero bowed slightly and gave the expected response. "Your offer of hospitality is understood, Khirnari. Aura grant that you be proven innocent."

"My house is a large one, as you know," Ulan said, leading them to the garden where the banquet had been held. "Do you mean to search the entire place?"

"Seregil will assist me as I scry," Thero replied.

"Scry?" said Elos. "How do you mean to do that?"

"I shall employ this." The wizard produced a square of stained linen. "This is blood from the wound on Klia's hand," he explained, not adding that some of Torsin's was there, as well.

"Blood magic? Necromancy!" Lhaar a Iriel hissed, making a sign in Thero's direction.

The Khatme was not alone in her disapproval, Seregil noted, watching the others uneasily.

"Brythir i Nien, how can you allow such an abomination?" Moriel a Moriel exclaimed.

"The use of blood is only incidental. It's not necromancy of any sort," Thero assured them. "If Klia was stuck with a sharp object, as we suspect, then some of her blood and the poison remains on it, as it does on this cloth. It's nothing but a finding spell, like calling to like."

"The 'faie have similar magicks," Brythir said, leaning on Adzriel's arm. "Unless my fellow khirnari intend to demand a vote, I say you may do so, Thero i Procepios."

"I pray you, grant him leave to proceed," Ulan added. "I have nothing to hide."

"Thank you, Khirnari," said Thero. "First, was an Akhendi charm found anywhere in your tupa after the banquet?"

"No, nothing of that sort."

"Very well." Going to a stone bench that stood nearby, Thero spread the stained cloth out and wove a spell over it with his wand. The others watched with growing interest as the colored patterns twisted in and out of existence at his command.

Seregil quietly turned his attention to the immense garden. The trappings of the banquet had been cleared away, of course. Recalling how the various tables had been set up, he began a methodical search of the area, hoping to find the lost charm, if nothing else.

Unfortunately, Ulan's servants had been thorough in their tidying up, He didn't find so much as an overlooked mussel shell or lost knife.

"I have the sense of something lying in that direction," Thero announced at last, motioning vaguely to the wing of the house where the khirnari's rooms lay.

They moved on, passing along the same corridors Seregil and Alec had walked a few nights earlier. Seregil guided Thero, who walked with eyes half closed, his wand held out before him between his upraised palms.

The wizard's face registered nothing but detached concentration until they reached the garden court where Ulan's private chambers lay. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and he looked around, brow furrowed. "Yes, there's something here, but it's still very faint."

Too easy, Seregil thought again, rifling his way once more through the bedchamber and sitting room. It was a bit distracting, doing this in broad daylight with an audience that included the owner of the room. It felt indecent, really, like having someone watch you take a crap. The day had turned warm, and sweat trickled down his back and sides as he worked.

Again, he found nothing. "Are you certain about this?" he muttered, coming back to Thero, who was standing by the fish pool.

Thero nodded. "It's unclear, I admit, but it's here."

Pondering what corners he might have missed, Seregil stared down at the fragrant white water lilies floating on the pool's dark surface. Fish darted below the round, green leaves like half-glimpsed inspirations. A single dead fish floating in a far corner of the pool was the only jarring element; no doubt the usually fastidious khirnari had more pressing things on his mind since Klia's collapse than the care of his fish pool.

The others were watching his every move with varying degrees of interest or hostility. Doing his best to ignore them, Seregil looked around the courtyard again. If Thero said there was something here, then something was here. It was just a matter of looking in the right place.

Or asking the right questions.

The masses of white peonies and roses caught his eye; he didn't much relish the idea of uprooting them without good cause. Red

damsel flies darted around the blooms. One strayed to land on the lip of a lily pad. A fish flashed up and swallowed it.

"They are always hungry," Ulan murmured, lifting the cover from a bowl set into the rim of the pool. He scattered a handful of crumbs, and the calm water churned as more fish rose to snatch up the morsels.

The dead fish reclaimed Seregil's attention. It was a large one, longer than his hand, and its scales were still bright. That, and the fact that its hungry companions hadn't begun picking at it yet, suggested that it hadn't been dead long.