"In my z'kal!" he said through clenched teeth. "Now!"

Grinsa didn't dare argue. He merely turned and started toward the a'laq's shelter.

"Bring them!" he heard E'Menua say. Grinsa didn't look back to see who the a'laq had spoken to, but he assumed E'Menua had given the order to the other two Weavers.

Reaching the a'laq's shelter, he stepped inside, then turned to face the entryway and waited. He didn't have to stand there for long.

E'Menua threw aside the flap of rilda hide that covered the entrance, stepped into the shelter, and struck Grinsa across the cheek with the back of his hand. Grinsa had expected him to do something of the sort, and he made no effort to block the blow. He staggered back, nearly stepping in the fire, but he managed to stay on his feet.

"If you ever speak to me in such a way again, I'll kill you! I am a'laq of this sept and you will show me the respect I am due! How dare you question me in front of my people like that!"

His cheek still throbbing, Grinsa said nothing. Best, he thought, to let the a'laq vent his anger.

"You may be new here, Forelander. You may feel that you're not one of us, that you intend to leave Fal'Borna land at the first opportunity. I don't give a damn! You will address me properly, or you'll be dealt with just the way a mutinous Fal'Borna would be. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, A'Laq. It wasn't my intention to give offense."

To his credit, E'Menua appeared to accept Grinsa's apology. "What exactly was your intention?" he asked, sounding calmer.

"I'm not really certain," Grinsa admitted. "It just seems to me that

you may not be justified in executing those men."

"They have been declared enemies of the Fal'Borna, Forelander. They-"

"A'Laq?" came a voice from outside.

"Wait out there!" E'Menua called. He looked at Grinsa again. "Once someone is named an enemy of our people, his fate is decided. It's something you'd do well to keep in mind. I have no choice in the matter. These men have to die."

"Even if they've done nothing wrong."

"Torgan brought the pestilence to S'Plaed's sept."

"So S'Plaed claims," Grinsa said. "But what if he's mistaken? What if we can prove that the merchant did nothing wrong? Is Fal'Borna justice so unyielding that it would condemn an innocent man?"

"Why do you argue so? What is Torgan to you?"

It was a fair question, one that he'd been asking himself since he first began arguing for the man's life earlier that day. "The merchant means nothing to me. But I had a friend in the Forelands, a man who committed no crime, a man who'd be dead now if Eandi justice worked as Fal'Borna justice does."

E'Menua bristled. "Are you trying to provoke me? Do you wish to see just how far I'll go in punishing you?"

"No, A'Laq. I only want to see justice done."

"The Tesserate has declared that this man and any who help him are to die. You would defy them?"

"Of course not," Grinsa said. "But why did the Tesserate decide this?" "Because S'Plaed has told them that Torgan attacked his sept with the pestilence."

"And if you were to learn that this wasn't true, wouldn't you be bound to tell the Tesserate?"

"I'd be pitting myself against S'Plaed."

"Is that worse than allowing an innocent man to die?"

"You judge us," the a'laq said darkly. "You have no right." "I'm not judging you. I'm trying to understand you."

E'Menua regarded him for some time before finally giving a small shake of his head. "You are a most difficult man, Forelander. The truth is I don't know how to answer your question. Openly opposing the a'laq of another sept, even one that has been weakened as S'Plaed's has, can be dangerous. And it may do little good. The Tesserate may not listen to me-S'Plaed has a good deal of support in Thamia. So do I, but in this matter I'd be taking the part of an Eandi."

"A'Laq?" came the voice from outside again.

"Just a moment!"

"I ask only that you keep an open mind, A'Laq," Grinsa said. "I don't wish to see any man-Eandi or Qirsi-executed without cause, and I can't imagine you do, either."

"An open mind," E'Menua repeated, looking skeptical.

Grinsa nodded.

"Very well." He looked past Grinsa to the entryway and called for the others to enter.

Q'Daer and L'Norr stepped into the shelter, each of them guiding one of the merchants by the arm. The Weavers glanced briefly at the a'laq, but then stared at Grinsa. The shelter was dimly lit, but he felt certain that the welt on his cheek showed clearly, even in this poor light. No doubt both men would delight in seeing it.

E'Menua sat at his usual spot, and gestured for Grinsa and the other Fal'Borna to do the same.

Torgan began to sit as well, but Q'Daer stopped him.

"You stand, Eandi. Both of you," he added, looking at the other merchant.

"Tell us what you did to S'Plaed's sept," the a'laq demanded. Torgan hesitated, licking his lips and looking so unnerved that

Grinsa found himself wondering if perhaps the merchant was responsible for the deaths there after all.

"I did nothing," the man said at last, his voice quavering.

"You're lying."

"No! I've done nothing wrong! I went to the Sept, I sold some wares, and I left! That's all! I swear it!"

"Why did you leave so quickly then? S'Plaed says that you were in a great rush to be away from his sept. It seems you knew some great calamity was about to befall them."

"No, it wasn't that! I had just learned…" He stopped, licked his lips again. "I had just heard… some bad tidings. I wanted to be away from there, away from everyone. That's all."

The a'laq glanced at Grinsa and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, You see? I told you he was guilty.

"Do you think we're fools, Torgan?" E'Menua asked, facing the Eandi again. "Do you think we can't tell when a dark-eye is lying to us?" "No, of course not. But I swear to you-"

"He is lying."

Everyone turned to stare at the other merchant.

Torgan looked like he'd just been slapped. "Jasha!"

"He did do something to S'Plaed's sept, and what's more, he knows exactly what happened at C'Bijor's Neck."

Torgan launched himself at the younger man. "You treacherous little bastard!" He knocked Jasha to the ground and was on him immediately, his hands around the man's throat. "This was your plan all along! You want to destroy me!"

Q'Daer and L'Norr tried to pull Torgan off the young merchant, but Torgan was far bigger than both of them, and apparently as strong as he was large. Jasha's eyes were wide, and his face was turning bright red. He clawed at Torgan's hands, but to no avail. Just as Grinsa began to fear for the young merchant's life, he heard a sharp snapping sound. Torgan let out a howl of pain, rolled off of Jasha, and clutched at his right arm.

"I can just as easily break your neck, Torgan," E'Menua said calmly. "So can every other Weaver in this z'kal. Don't make us kill you."

"You're going to kill me no matter what I do," he said, bitterly. He nodded toward Jasha, who still lay on the floor, his chest heaving. "All thanks to this snake!"

"You have to tell them now, Torgan," the younger man said, still gasping. "That's why I did it."

The old merchant looked away. "I don't know what he's talking about."

Jasha lifted himself onto one elbow. "Your only hope is to tell them everything. Believe it or not, I may have saved your life."

"Shut your mouth, whelp! My only consolation is knowing that they'll kill you, too."

"Tell them, Torgan."

The merchant clamped his mouth shut and pressed his lips thin.

"Do you know what mind-bending magic is?" Grinsa asked. Instantly, he wondered if he'd stepped in where he shouldn't have. But when he chanced a look at the a'laq, he saw that E'Menua was nodding.

"You're not Fal'Borna," Torgan said, as if seeing Grinsa for the first time.