Alec took Seregil’s other hand. “Told you. They found us.”

Micum carefully undressed both of them and checked for more wounds. The one on the inside of Seregil’s thigh was closed, but the skin there looked fragile and thin. The arrow wounds on Alec’s chest and throat had healed more completely, but the breath still rattled a little in his throat and bloody foam seeped from the corner of his mouth.

Micum covered them both warmly and drew Thero outside.

“What do you think?”

The wizard shook his head slowly, looking a bit dazed. “I don’t know what to think. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“But the child did heal them. He saved their lives.”

“Yes.” Yet Thero looked less than pleased. “I suppose we’ll have to stay here until they’re stronger.”

“And pray no one else comes looking for them.”

“I can hide us. I’ll obscure this whole gully if need be.”

“We should send word to Magyana and Korathan.”

“I did, while you were away setting this up. She advised me not to contact the prince yet. She thinks it would be dangerous to bring that-” He pointed into the lean-to, where Sebrahn was still crouched over the sleeping men, cup clasped in his pale little hands. “To bring him to Skala until we know more about what it is. And most especially not to the Orëska House. Every wizard in the place would feel it, as soon as it got anywhere near them, and word of it would soon reach Phoria.”

“You’re saying we should keep this from the queen?”

“She’s no friend to wizards, or to magic. I don’t know what she’d do with this thing. However, I’m more concerned with what it might do. You saw those men back there. All dead, and not a mark on them. Can you imagine if this creature felt threatened in the heart of the city? No, we can’t risk it. Magyana will meet us in Gedre. The khirnari has offered us temporary sanctuary if Seregil can give his word that it poses no danger.”

Micum shook his head. “We both saw how this little fellow can heal. He saved their lives again right in front of us. But how could it kill all those men? It couldn’t protect itself!”

“Do you have a better explanation?”

“I haven’t looked yet, have I?” He went to his horse and struggled up into the saddle. “Keep a sharp eye out, and send me one of those little lights if you see anyone coming. I won’t be long.”

Micum’s idea of not being gone long was different than Thero’s. He was about to send a sighting out for him when Micum rode back into camp, looking grim.

“What did you find?” Thero asked, helping him down from the horse.

Micum sat on a large stone and stared down at his hands; they were smeared with dark blood. “There are thirty-one men lying dead back there, and all but three don’t have a scratch on them, except that they’d bled from their eyes and ears.”

“And the other three?”

“One decapitated. One stabbed through the heart. The third one gutted and hacked to pieces.”

“In that vision with Alec, I saw Seregil running at the riders with a sword. I was sure I was seeing his death.”

“It should have been. But I’d say he managed to kill those three. They were close together, and the gutted one was dressed like a noble. Seregil must have cut the other two down to get to him. But the others? Seregil didn’t do that, and neither did Alec.”

“Then you agree that whatever this thing is it’s dangerous.”

“But it didn’t hurt us, not even when we pulled it away from Alec,” Micum pointed out.

They both turned and looked into the shelter, where the strange pale creature was curled up between the two men now, its silvery hair spread across both their chests.

Micum sighed and shook his head. “What have you two gotten yourselves into this time?”

CHAPTER 46 At Bay

THERO SAT WITH the two wounded men that night, while Micum kept watch at the head of the gully. He’d cast a sheltering spell on the little tent to keep the wind and cold out. The heat of their bodies made it comfortable inside, and Thero was dozing when Alec started awake. Looking around in alarm, he found Seregil first and reached across Sebrahn to stroke his talimenios’s sleeping face.

“He’s healing,” Thero assured him quietly.

Alec stared up at him. “I thought it was a dream, seeing you on that ship.”

“No dream. You came to me and I saw you. It was you who guided us here.” A sudden tightness in his throat made the wizard pause a moment. “I thought you were dead, Alec. I thought I was seeing your ghost. What happened?”

“Yhakobin came after us with the slave takers. There were archers. They were aiming at Seregil.” He broke off, and Thero saw his hand tighten around Seregil’s. “Are you sure he’s all right?”

“Yes. This odd little friend of yours is quite the healer.”

“The flowers. I was hit, and when I came around, he was putting them on Seregil.”

“He must have done quite a bit of that before we reached you, and he’s done it a few more times since.”

Alec let out a long, wheezing sigh of relief that turned into a ragged cough. “I really thought we were for the Gate this time,” he whispered when he got his breath back. “Where are we?”

“Still in Plenimar, not far from where you and Seregil were-attacked. Can you tell me any more about how you ended up in Plenimar in the first place?”

“Ambushed by slavers on the road-somewhere.” Alec closed his eyes.

“We tracked you that far. And then they took you to Riga and sold you, right?”

“To an alchemist. Yhakobin.” His eyes stayed shut, but his breathing grew shallow and quick as more memories came to him. “Gave Seregil-to Ilar. I didn’t know-didn’t know who Ilar was-Thought he was friend-”

“Stop, Alec. Get your breath!” Thero urged, pressing a hand to Alec’s brow with a small spell to calm him, then to his chest to heal what he could. When Alec’s breathing grew easier, he asked, “Who is Ilar?”

Alec shook his head. “Long story. Ask Seregil, if he’ll tell you.”

“All right. What about this creature?”

Alec frowned up at him. “Sebrahn. He’s named Sebrahn.” He coughed again and Thero helped him take a sip from the water skin. “He’s my child…of no woman. ’kobin made him.”

“That’s enough, Alec. Stop now.”

But Alec was still struggling to talk through the coughing fit. “A rhekaro-Mine! He can heal.”

“So I’ve seen,” Thero murmured, adding a bit to the spell to quiet him.

“He can do more than that,” Seregil rasped, opening his eyes. “You were dead, Alec. He brought you back.”

Alec looked over at him, then up at Thero again. “That’s impossible. I was just hurt. Right?”

“I know what death looks like. I know what a dead body feels like…” Seregil’s voice cracked. “Alec, you died. You saved my life doing it, and you died!”

“I’m afraid that’s probably true, Alec,” Thero told him.

“It is.” Seregil wiped his eyes on one bare arm. “They killed Alec. I killed Yhakobin. His archers shot me. Then Sebrahn, he-He sang.”

“Sang?” Alec touched the sleeping creature’s shoulder. “I don’t remember.”

Seregil let out a ragged laugh. “You were still dead then. He killed the rest of them with his song. Then he spoke your name, Alec, and he brought you back with his tears.”

“Yhakobin used my tears-to make him.”

Thero patted his shoulder. “That’s enough for now. Sleep, both of you. I’d like to examine the rhekaro.”

Alec’s eyes flew open and he clutched at Thero’s arm. “Don’t you hurt him!”

“I won’t, I promise.” Thero held out his hand to the creature and forced a smile. “Just come out by the fire, won’t you, so I can have a better look?”

Sebrahn looked to Alec, who gave Thero another warning look, then nodded. “It’s all right, Sebrahn. Go with Thero.”

Only then did the rhekaro let Thero lead him out into the firelight. As soon as Thero stopped, Sebrahn hunkered down and stared back into the lean-to where Alec lay.