"I'll try."

Cresenne smiled again, and this time it lingered. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked it of you."

"It's all right."

"No, it's not. That's not the kind of person you are. You can't do what I just asked of you any more than you can simply let these men be killed. I just…" She shook her head.

He touched her cheek, making her meet his gaze. "I was serious a moment ago. I don't want to die for these merchants. I'll come back to you-to both of you. You have my word."

"And what if E'Menua doesn't agree to these terms? He doesn't care whether these men live or die, but he seems to care a good deal about keeping us here. If you insist that he agree to this, he might just say that you can't go at all."

"Yes, he might. Or he might be so certain that we can't find the woman that he'll take the bargain a step further."

Cresenne winced. "If you fail, we stay with the Fal'Borna for the rest of our lives."

"Right."

She stared at the candle briefly, slowly shaking her head. At last she shrugged and faced him again. "Then that's the risk we take. There are worse fates."

"You're certain?"

"What choice do we have, Grinsa? It all comes back to this: You can't stand by and let those men be killed. So we'll make this demon's bargain, and hope for the best." She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "I hope these men are worth all we're risking for them."

Grinsa wanted to assure her that they were, but the truth was he knew precious little about either of them. In the end, "So do I" was all he could offer her.

The following morning, Grinsa made his way to the a'laq's shelter. It was grey and damp, and a chill wind still blew down from the north, making the shelters of the sept quiver and snap. The horses stood in their paddock looking miserable, their heads and tails hung low.

As usual, the two young Weavers were outside E'Menua's z'kal, though neither of them appeared too happy to be there. They wore heavy, fur- lined skins around their shoulders, with hoods thrown over their heads.

L'Norr watched him approach, his eyes bright, alert. Q'Daer wouldn't look at him. There was a welt on his cheek, similar, no doubt, to the one Grinsa bore. Grinsa nearly laughed when he saw it-they looked like twin sons of some brute of a father.

"Welcome to Harvest on the plains," L'Norr said, as Grinsa drew near.

"It's like this a lot?"

"Until the Snows come. Then it'll be exactly the same, except colder." A fine time to be abroad in a hostile land.

"I need to speak with the a'laq," Grinsa said.

L'Norr seemed to read something in Grinsa's tone, because he merely turned and entered the shelter. For a moment, Grinsa and Q'Daer stood together outside, avoiding each other's gazes, saying nothing. Then L'Norr emerged again and nodded to the gleaner. "He's waiting for you."

"Thank you."

Grinsa entered the z'kal. It was warm within. E'Menua sat by a small fire, and beside him sat an attractive woman with long white hair and a piercing gaze. There were small lines around her eyes and mouth, but otherwise her skin was smooth. She eyed Grinsa as he stood before them, but she neither smiled nor spoke. Sensing her powers, Grinsa realized that she was a Weaver as well. This had to be D'Pera, the a'laq's wife.

"You've made your decision, Forelander?" the a'laq asked, drawing Grinsa's gaze.

"You could say that. I have a proposition for you."

E'Menua's eyebrows went up. "A proposition?"

"I'll do this-I'll go with the merchants to find the Mettai witch who threatens your people. And if I succeed in finding her, you not only spare the merchants, you also allow Cresenne, Bryntelle, and me to leave your sept."

The a'laq seemed to ponder this for some time. D'Pera still said nothing, but she watched her husband closely, the way a sea captain might eye a bank of storm clouds.

"And what if you fail?" E'Menua finally asked.

Grinsa knew the a'laq would get there on his own, so he gave the only answer he could. "If I fail, we stay with you."

"And you agree to be joined to a Weaver."

He shook his head. "No, that's not part of the bargain."

"Then there is no bargain."

Grinsa spun away and stepped toward the entrance to the shelter. "Fine."

"Fine?" E'Menua repeated, stopping Grinsa on the threshold. "You'll just let those men die?"

He faced the a'laq again. "Their lives mean nothing to you. Why should they mean anything to me?"

"To be honest," E'Menua said mildly, "I'm not certain. But I know that they do." E'Menua seemed so calm, so sure of himself, that Grinsa had to wonder if he'd been expecting this proposition all along. Had he and Cresenne been that obvious?

"I won't marry another woman. Ever."

"Apparently you believe you're in a position to dictate terms to me," E'Menua said. "You're not. I'll allow you to leave if you succeed, but if you fail, you'll live among us Fal'Borna, accepting our customs and laws as your own. That's the only choice I'm offering you. You can go under those conditions, or you can remain here as you are now."

A voice in his mind screamed for him to leave the shelter, to find some other way to win his freedom from this man and his people. There was just so much he was willing to risk, and he had long since grown weary of having E'Menua outthink him at every turn. Had it not been for the two merchants, he would have simply walked out into the rain. But though the two Eandi meant little to him, he couldn't throw their lives away. Cresenne, who knew him so well, had told him as much the night before.

"You won't breathe a word of this to Cresenne, and while I'm gone, you'll do everything necessary to keep her and Bryntelle safe."

E'Menua's expression didn't change. "And if I don't agree?"

Before Grinsa could respond, D'Pera laid a hand on the a'laq's arm. They shared a look, and after a moment the a'laq faced him again.

"Yes, very well. You have my word that she'll be safe, and she won't be told of our agreement." He hesitated, but only for an instant. "She's bound to learn of it eventually, though."

"Only if I fail," Grinsa said. "And I have no intention of failing."

The a'laq nodded and laughed, though good-naturedly. "Very well, Forelander." He grew serious once more. "You'll take Q'Daer with you, as well as the merchants, and all four of you will have mounts."

"Does it have to be Q'Daer? Couldn't I go with L'Norr instead?"

E'Menua grinned. It seemed he knew of their dislike for one another. Perhaps he'd even heard of their encounter the previous day. "Q'Daer is the older of the two," he said. "It's his place to make such a journey."

Grinsa nodded. He didn't relish the idea of being stuck with the young Weaver for so long, but he was learning quickly that Fal'Borna customs left little room for negotiation. And however much he would have preferred a different companion, he knew that Q'Daer would be far less happy about it than he. There was some small consolation in that.

"All right. You'll provision us with food and gold?"

"The merchants will. They've ample stores of both, and if we have to give you a bit more food, we'll make certain that they compensate us."

Grinsa could see the logic in that. "Someone will tell me when the others are ready to go?"

"Of course."

The gleaner nodded. "Very well. Thank you, A'Laq."

He started to leave, but E'Menua spoke his name, stopping him.

"You may not believe this," the a'laq said, as Grinsa looked back at him, "but I hope you succeed. If what the dark-eyes say about this woman is true, she must be hunted down. And if it's our sept that manages to kill her, it will increase our standing in Thamia."

Perhaps he should have been grateful to the a'laq for saying this, but all he could think was that he didn't give a damn about the glory of his sept. "I'll do what I can," he said, and left the z'kal.