Dal shook his head impatiently. “It’s more than that. He…” Dal looked across the table from under his brows. “I’ve been long a coward, Karlyn-Tan, or so I thought. But yesterday I saw something that makes me understand what fear is. I need help.”

Karlyn raised his eyebrows, his lips parting of their own accord. He quickly lowered his own eyes back to the bits of buckle, the polishing paste and rags on the tabletop. Dal had to be afraid, to say such a thing aloud.

“I appreciate the help you have given me,” he said slowly. “But I remind you that I am no longer a Steward of Tenebro.”

Dal stopped turning his wine cup on the table and took a long draw from it, setting it back on the table with a sour twist to his mouth. Serves him right, Karlyn thought. This isn’t the kind of place you should order wine.

“This is a greater concern than who is Tenebro and who is not. We speak now of the fate of Imrion.” Dal wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “You haven’t asked about my errand.”

Karlyn-Tan waited.

“He sends me to find the Mercenary Brother, Dhulyn Wolfshead. I feel it is imperative that we find her, if only to learn why Lok-iKol wants her. If only to use her ourselves.”

Karlyn-Tan felt himself go perfectly still. And kept perfectly silent.

“How?”

“How else? Against Lok-iKol.”

Ah. Karlyn drummed the tabletop with his fingers. The fate of Imrion, indeed.

“Can we rid ourselves of the two men with you? I have someone I think you should meet.”

Dhulyn looked out through the spy hole and nodded slowly, almost unable to believe what her eyes told her.

“He does not lie,” she said to Tyler Nightsky, the Brother who had called her to the gate. “That is Karlyn-Tan, last seen as Steward of Walls at Tenebro House.” She turned to Tyler. “I will speak with Alkoryn. In the meantime, allow him to enter the outer courtyard.”

Karlyn-Tan had been told to stand at the end of the courtyard nearest the gate. Dhulyn let herself into the yard from the kitchen end and waited, without moving. Except for the missing Tenebro crest, he looked very much the same as the last time she had seen him, eyes narrow, lips unsmiling.

“Dhulyn Wolfshead,” he said, taking half a step toward her before remembering his instructions and standing still.

“I did not think it possible that my ears and eyes both should deceive me,” she said. “And yet here you are.”

“You are not deceived, Wolfshead,” he said. “I am here.”

“And your Walls?”

“Are mine no longer. I am Cast Out.”

For a moment Dhulyn could think of nothing to say that was adequate to what he’d told her. Finally, she nodded. “For whom do you speak?”

“To you, I speak for myself,” Karlyn glanced away before returning his eyes to hers. “I rejoice to see you well, and alive. And I bring you warning that Lok-iKol Tenebroso seeks everywhere for you.” She bowed toward him. That was certainly no news to her, whatever he thought, but his goodwill in warning her had to be acknowledged.

Karlyn took a deeper breath. “To Tek-aKet, Tarkin of Imrion, I speak for Dal-eDal Tenebro, who comes with news, and brings himself and eight others as a token of the force of allies he can add to the Tarkin’s strength.”

“You bring messages here for Tek-aKet Tarkin?”

“I do. Mercenary Brothers helped him escape, and he is either with you, or his whereabouts are known to you.”

Dhulyn kept her face still as stone, giving nothing away. Of course Dal-eDal knew they had been in the Carnelian Dome, helping the Tarkin. Did anyone else know? Were the tunnels secure enough for the Tarkin and his family? Alkoryn certainly believed so, but better careful than cursing, Dhulyn thought.

“Does Dal-eDal hope to become Tenebroso? And will you then be restored to your Walls?”

“We have no such hope or expectation,” Karlyn-Tan said. “There is too much future for us to see what will come.”

Dhulyn narrowed her eyes, but it was clear his words were innocent of any hidden meanings as he continued with his message.

“Our purpose is to remove the usurper Lok-iKol Tenebro from the Carnelian Throne, and restore the Culebro Tarkin, Tek-aKet.” He cleared his throat, giving her a chance to respond, but she only smiled her wolf’s smile. “If we live, there will be time to see what will follow.”

Dhulyn crossed her arms and, with her head to one side, studied the former Steward of Walls. If their House was being watched, no one, not even Karlyn-Tan, could simply enter and not be seen to come out again. Fortunately, Alkoryn had thought of even this contingency when she’d gone to consult with him.

“When the moon has set, bring Dal-eDal to the Fountain of the Rivers. You will be met and taken to the Tarkin.”

“There are two others I believe you will want as well, for the information they may have, Mar-eMar Tenebro, and the Scholar of Valdomar, Gundaron.”

She raised her eyebrows. They were alive, then, and likely to stay that way if Karlyn-Tan had taken them under his wing. Still, she told herself, she had no wish to see either the Scholar or Mar-eMar Tenebro again.

“The Scholar, at least, was intimate with Lok-iKol, and has information that may be of use.”

Dhulyn sighed. Of course he did. And she was a blooded fool not to think of that herself. “Very well, you may bring them.”

Dhulyn found Parno and Alkoryn already seated with Tek-aKet at the table farthest from the low entrance, with Fanryn and Thionan half-sitting on the edge of another table against the left wall. This was another one of the many caves that honeycombed the earth under Mercenary House and even the Great Square itself. Dhulyn had no idea what its intended use had been, perhaps a storeroom for contraband; the uneven ceiling was low enough in places that she had to duck her head, and those taller than she, including Parno and Tek-aKet Tarkin, had found themselves seats as quickly as they could to remove the strain of standing hunched over. The Tarkin had chosen the two shortest of his guard to stand against the rock wall behind him. Dhulyn hoped the sweat on the face of the blond on the left came from too much clothing, and not the enclosure sickness.

Instead of a large council table, such as could be found in the public meeting room in the House above them, here were half a score of small round tables, scattered over a floor leveled with sand and inlaid cobbles, each with chairs or stools to allow three or four to sit, making the place resemble nothing more than the taproom of a small tavern. All it lacked were windows and a serving bar. Ganje, water, bread, and dried fruit had already been laid out on the tables.

Dhulyn was alerted by noises in the passages behind her to the arrival of Cullen of Langeron, a lean, wiry man with steel-gray hair and the feather tattoo covering the left side of his face. The ceilings did not allow for Cullen’s Racha bird, Disha, to ride in her accustomed place on his shoulder, and Dhulyn was intrigued to see that the bird nevertheless accompanied her Partner, walking on the ground almost under his feet in the manner of a playful cat. The Cloud went immediately to Tek-aKet and saluted him with the formal bow of an ambassador.

“Don’t stand on ceremony, Cullen of Langeron,” Tek-aKet said. “At the moment I’m Tarkin of nothing but this room.”

“On the contrary, Tek-aKet Tarkin,” the Cloudman said sharply. “It is precisely because you are Tarkin of more than this room, that ceremony will be observed.” The two men locked gazes, and after a moment Dhulyn saw a loosening of the tension of Tek-aKet’s shoulders, a lessening of the darkness in his eyes. Guard yourself better, she thought, make your thoughts harder to see. The Tarkin of Imrion nodded, just once, as if in answer to her thoughts, and gestured to seats at the nearest tables.