"I turned just in time to see Maran deal with Marik. He had disarmed her, but she never was much for weapons." Jamie grinned then, all the way up to his eyes. "He'd grabbed her right arm to keep her off balance. Idiot. Spent all that time with her and never noticed she was left-handed. She hit him in the stomach like the hammer hitting the anvil. I heard ribs crack from where I stood. He'd doubled over, of course. Then' she straightened him out. He dropped like a stone.

"She wrapped the Farseer in her cloak and we ran for the horses I’d left nearby. May I never again face such a wild ride in darkness. Our noses were pointed north and west and we followed them, caring only about putting as much distance as we could between us and them.

"We had been going for some half an hour when something made me turn in my saddle. There behind us I watched as two red smears of light streaked towards us in the darkness. They were at about the same level above the ground as we were, and they were gaining on us far too quickly.

"The horses saved us, I think. They caught wind of the things and bolted. I thought they were running before, but sheer terror is a wonderful spur. We fairly flew.

"And just as well, for despite our speed the things caught us up. I knew of nothing to do against such creatures, and I had no idea what would happen, but I learned soon enough. A red mist covered my sight, and every inch of my skin crawled as though a thousand ants swarmed over me. The itch swelled from a burning to a knife-prick to a deep stabbing pain. I never meant to, but I cried out, about the same time Maran screamed."

He stared deep into the fire. "I don't know how we managed to stay on our horses, but we did, and that's why I'm alive to tell of it. Who could know that so simple a thing as sheer distance would be our saving?

"It was sudden as blowing out a candle. The pain just stopped as we clung to our poor terrified mounts and sped away from Illara. We slowed and stared at each other in amazement, and together we reined in and looked behind.

"There behind us in the road were two red patches of light, dissolving like sugar in rain even as we watched. The horses, poor things, fell into an exhausted walk once the smell of the demons was gone. We got down to give them a rest, and because I at least wanted the feel of solid ground under my feet.

" 'Jamie, what happened?' says Maran. 'I thought we were done.'

" 'My first time, too,' I told her. 'Why don't you try the Farseer?'

"She pulled it out of its swaddling in her saddlebag and said, 'Show me Berys.' As I leaned over her shoulder I saw, despite the darkness, a dear vision of Berys looking near death, and of Marikbehind him looking little better. They were being tended by a healer. From the way Berys was lying, I guessed he'd fainted.

" 'Is he breathing?' Maran said, almost to herself.

" 'For all of me he is,' I told her. 'Did you think I'd kill him? I admit I was tempted, but I'd had my fill of death in that place already.' And suddenly I was crying like an idiot. It had washed over me, that poor babe, dying alone and terrified that we might live, I still owe someone for that, you know," said Jamie thoughtfully. "I swore it to the child."

'He stopped to down his ale, I sat unmoving, unwilling to break into his thoughts, wondering when he was going to get to the part that affected me. He kept silent, though, and I couldn't stand it. "What happened then?"

"What, am I a bard now?" he asked lightly. "If I am your hospitality is lacking. I'm starving," he said. "It must be two hours past noon."

I shook myself and looked out the window of the inn. He was right, noon was long gone. It was still raining, but the sky was beginning to lighten in the east with at least some hope of an end to the soaking. The couple in the corner table had finished eating and seemed to be in the midst of an animated discussion.

Jamie stood and stretched. "I should get out to the stables and check up on the lads," he said. "I'll get the innkeeper to bring them some of that stew that smells so good, if you'll arrange the same for us. I’ll be back soon."

I ordered the stew and a large loaf of fresh bread. By the time it had come Jamie was back, bringing with him a whiff of the stables. It almost smelled homey.

We sat together, as we had always done, and broke bread together. I found myself blushing for the way I had treated him. Blast him, he always could see my thoughts clear as daylight.

"So you're over your horrors, are you?" he said with a wry smile. "About time, too, ye daft thing." He leaned across the little table and took my hand. "I never meant to shock you so, my girl, but ifs time you learned there's more to most people than meets the eye."

"I know, Jamie. I just thought I knew you." I stared at him, trying to see in him all the Jamies I had met: oldest friend and truest companion, lover of the mother I had never known, killer for hire, to whom now I owed my life for dispatching but twelve hours past—the ruffian who would have killed me.

He squeezed my hand. "You do know me, Lanen. Better than any save your mother." He let go my hand and grinned. "Better than you might wish to, I dare say. But at least such friendship means that after we eat I can finish the tale for you."

Jamie said it was good stew, but I hardly tasted it. The instant he was finished with his bowl I whisked it away, filled his tankard again and sat it squarely in front of him.

"Right. Talk," I demanded.

He laughed—louder than usual, I suspect the ale was finally affecting him, though his capacity was legendary—and settled back in his chair, gazing at me. It was a measuring glance, though I could not think what he was seeing.

"You know, you've been right all these years. You never did suit Hadronsstead, not from your first breath. We've not talked so much for years, my girl; save just after Hadron died, and I've missed it sore." His smile broadened. "And you have never ordered me to do anything your life long. It suits you." This for some reason struck him as amusing. "Just like your mother," he added, laughing rather too loudly.

I drummed my fingers on the table. This sent him off into another gale of laughter; and I couldn't help it—I never could hear Jamie laugh and not join in. When he finally stopped, wiping his eyes, he sat and grinned like a cat who's found the dairy. "As I live and breathe, Lanen, Maran did that very thing when she was annoyed. Where did you pick that up?"

"Nowhere. I mean, I've always done it," I said, surprised. All my life I had gone without any word of my mother, and of a sudden it seemed that she had some part in me after all. "Jamie, why in the name of sense have you never told me any of this before?"

He sobered a bit, at that. "I gave my word, lasso I swore to Hadron that I would not speak to you of your mother as long as I lived under his roof."

"But why?"

"Ah, well, that’s the rest of the story." His grin broke out again. "And so you've brought me round to it. You're too damn clever by half, you know. Still, I suppose needs must. I've avoided it long enough." He sipped at his ale.

"You see, Maran and I were lovers again on the road away from Illara." He shot a keen glance at me, keener than rd have thought him capable of at the time. I kept my face carefully composed. Whatever it was, I needed to hear it.

"We arrived at Hadronsstead not a fortnight before Midwinter Fest. We had not—been there a week before Maran realised she was pregnant. With you. Only," he said, all his gaiety gonr in the instant, "she wasn't at all sure who the father was. Me or Marik."

Without looking at me, without speaking, he drew out a small metal flask from his tunic and passed it to me. I took a swig and let the strong spirits singe my throat. I was glad of the sensation. I think it kept me from doing something stupid like fainting.