"Maybe it's time I went back to the taverns," Alec offered. "Short of going into housebreaking as a full-time occupation, I don't see how else we can find much more than we already have. Whoever left that ring meant for us to end up right where we are now, mired solid."

"You might as well—"

He was interrupted by Mydri's arrival with fresh infusions for Klia.

"But not alone," he continued. "Take Kheeta with you, and a rider or two. No one goes out alone, not anymore."

"Then you think our murderer is still here?" asked Beka.

"We have to be prepared for the possibility, and that he's not done with us yet," Seregil replied.

"Do take care," Mydri warned, picking up the thread of the conversation. "Adzriel has had people out listening around the city; word of what you found has already spread, and tempers are ugly. Akhendi is the worst, accusing Viresse outright of murder. There's talk of banning Golinil, and even the Khatme seem to be under suspicion. It's rumored that Lhaar a Iriel and Ulan i Sathil were meeting secretly to plot against Klia."

"Any news from the Nha'mahat?" Seregil asked.

Mydri gave him a surprised look. "You know they don't mix in Iia'sidra business."

"Of course." Seregil bent to pat Klia's hand one last time, then motioned for Alec to come with him.

On the way out they nearly collided with Sergeant Mercalle in the corridor.

"Begging your pardon, my lords," she said, giving them a quick salute. "I need to speak with Captain Beka regarding orders."

"What is it, Sergeant?" Beka asked, stepping out to join them.

"It's about the prisoner, Captain. His people are at the front door, asking what we mean to do with him."

"Well, well, Nazien has saved us the trouble," Seregil murmured. "Tell him we'll speak with him at once, Sergeant. Put them in the sitting room off the main hall."

Mercalle nodded to one of the Urgazhi on guard at the door, and the man hurried off. "There is one other thing, as well," she added. "The house servants wish to know what's to be done with Lord Torsin."

Beka grimaced. "Sakor's Flame, it's been a couple of days, hasn't it? He'll have to be burnt, and his remains sent home to Skala."

"It will have to be done outside the city," Seregil told her. "Nyal can probably find the materials we'll need. Have it done tonight; the priests can deal with the proper rites back in Rhiminee. You'd better bring Emiel into the hall now. I want him there when I give his uncle the bad news."

"I can't wait to see their faces," Beka said, striding off toward the back stair with Mercalle.

Thero waited until the two women were gone, then lowered his voice. "I've been thinking about what you said of the rhui'auros. Whatever your sister may think, I believe they see more than mere politics in all this. I'm convinced they want this alliance."

"I know," Seregil replied. "What puzzles me is why they don't seem to be making that clear to their own people."

"Maybe the Aurenfaie aren't listening," Alec suggested.

Nyal was loitering in the stable yard when Beka came out with Mercalle. Her heart gave an unruly leap at the sight of him. He'd been out riding, judging by the dust on his boots and cloak. Coming closer, she smelled beer and green herbs on his breath, the scent of a fresh breeze in his hair. She'd have given a month's pay for five minutes alone in his arms.

"We need materials for a funeral pyre, a fast, hot one," she told him, keeping her tone neutral.

His hazel eyes widened in alarm. "Aura's Light, not Klia—"

"For Lord Torsin," she told him.

"Ah, of course. The proper materials are kept in the city for such contingencies," he replied. "I'm sure they'll be made available to you, but it might be best if someone of Bokthersa clan made the request on Skala's behalf. Shall I find Kheeta i Branin?"

"Thank you," Beka said gratefully. "I want his ashes ready for tomorrow's dispatch rider, if possible."

"I'll see to everything," he said, already on his way.

"He's been a good friend to us, Captain," Mercalle said with evident affection.

By the Four, how I want to believe that! Beka thought, watching

her lover out of sight. "Get an honor guard together for me, Sergeant. Have them in the main hall in five minutes. Lord Seregil is meeting with the Haman and we want to make the proper impression."

Mercalle winked knowingly. "I'll make sure they're all tall and mean, Captain."

"Mean shouldn't be too difficult to come by, considering who our guests are," Beka replied, clapping her on the shoulder.

She'd been too distracted by Klia's condition and her own guilt to pay very much attention to the unwelcome «guest» in the barracks. As she headed in to fetch Emiel, she reflected that it couldn't have been a comfortable few days for him, with Klia's own guard looking daggers at him every waking hour. There wasn't one of them who wouldn't cheerfully cut the Haman's throat.

Half a dozen riders were taking their ease inside. Two more kept watch at the back of the room, where Emiel sat on his pallet, the remains of a recent meal on a plate beside him. He looked up at her approach, and she was pleased to see a flicker of apprehension cross his face.

"On your feet. You're wanted in the house," she ordered.

Outside, Emiel blinked as his eyes adjusted to the slanting afternoon sun. He betrayed no fear, but she did catch him stealing a quick glance at the stable yard gate, which stood tantalizingly open.

Go on, try to run for it, Beka thought, loosening her grip a little, wondering if he knew how much she'd welcome the opportunity to take him down.

The man knew better, of course, and kept up a disdainful front until he entered the hall and saw his uncle and a half dozen kinsmen standing tensely before Thero's makeshift tribunal. Alec and Saaban flanked the wizard, with Mercalle's guard in a line behind them. Seregil entered a moment later, escorting Rhaish i Arlisandin.

"Is there anyone else you wish to have present?" Thero asked Nazien.

"No one," the old Haman answered. "You claim to have proof of my kinsman's guilt. Show it to me and let's be done with the matter."

The Akhendi stepped forward, and Seregil handed him Klia's warding charm.

"You know of my people's skills with such magic," said Rhaish. "Your kinsman's guilt is written here, in this little carving. You recognize what it is, I think."

Nazien took the charm and clasped it, closing his eyes. After a

moment his shoulders sagged. When he looked at Emiel, there was disgust in his eyes. "I brought you to Sarikali to learn wisdom, nephew. Instead, you have brought disgrace on our name."

Beka felt the young Haman go rigid. "No," he rasped out. "No, my uncle—"

"Silence!" Nazien ordered, turning his back on Emiel and facing Thero. "I vow atonement to avert teth'sag between our people. If evidence of my kinsman's innocence cannot be found within the next moon cycle, he will be put to death for the attempted assassination of the queen's sister."

Nazien regarded Emiel stonily for a long moment. "Did you know," he said at last, "that during the hunt I pledged my support to Klia and her cause?"

"No, Khirnari, we did not," Thero replied. "The princess has been unable to speak since her collapse."

"Who heard you give this pledge, I wonder?" Rhaish i Arlisandin asked harshly.

The Haman eyed him levelly. "We spoke in private, but I'm certain Klia will verify my words when she recovers. Good day. May Aura's light illuminate the truth for all."

None of the Haman spared Emiel a glance as they filed out. He watched his kinsmen leave, then turned on Rhaish i Arlisandin.

"I might have known the Akhendi would use their paltry trinkets to sell their honor!" he snarled, twisting out of Beka's grasp and lunging at the khirnari, hands outstretched to throttle the man.