"My lord, it may also have to do with the fact that I was with Lord Usk—your father, when he purchased the sphere."

At that, Tamlin looked thoughtful. That was something he could grab onto. He folded his hands before his face.

"Possible," said Tamlin. "From whom did you buy it?"

"A street vendor," Cale replied. "Alkenen is his name. An itinerant peddler."

"Father always did have peculiar tastes," Tamlin muttered, and pondered.

"How can we not know what this is?" asked Shamur. She reached out and brushed her fingers along the half-sphere. "It must be valuable, or highly magical for them to have dared attack our house for it. Have you examined it, Tamlin?"

"Of course. It detects as only moderately magical—warded with minor protective spells—but nothing to indicate its purpose. Nothing to indicate what happened in the courtyard. I'll send for a sage in the morning."

"Perhaps the explosion expended its magic," Thazienne offered.

She looked at the sphere with wide eyes. Magic had always intrigued her.

"Perhaps," Tamlin agreed.

Cale did not agree but kept his thoughts to himself. Whatever the sphere was, its magic was buried deep. The split from his blade was too clean, too ... contrived. He saw Mask's hand in it, but then he seemed to see Mask in everything. Still, he was certain that the sphere was not destroyed, it was merely in two pieces. He knew that he had not seen the last of the half-drow and his allies.

Tamlin pushed back his chair from the table and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Will they come back for this half of the sphere? Cale?"

"They will, my lord," Cale replied, "if it remains here." He let that sink in. "But they will not return tonight. And probably not tomorrow. They are methodical and plan extensively. That takes time. And they would expect us to be prepared for another attack."

Indeed, the house was prepared for another attack, if it came. Cale had seen to that himself. The off-duty reserves had been contacted and guards patrolled the grounds outside and stood at every exterior door, always in teams of not less than four. Cale had informed the guard leaders of the attackers' use of illusions to disguise themselves. They were to respond with force to any suspicious activity.

In addition, Tamlin had placed several alarm spells at strategic areas of the grounds. The attackers would not be able to teleport in again without triggering a magical alarm.

Cale went on, "Besides, they don't need to attack. They have a hostage. They can negotiate."

Tamlin frowned and asked, "A hostage? He's only a guard."

"Tamlin!" Shamur and Thazienne exclaimed at once. Both wore looks of surprise and disgust.

Cale too stared daggers at the young man. It was all Cale could do to not walk over and punch Tamlin in the face.

"His name is Ren, my lord, and he is a loyal servant of this house. As am I."

Under that onslaught, Tamlin wilted like an arctic lily in the summer sun. His face flushed; his gaze found the table.

"But you're different. I only meant... I mean ..."

Cale said in a cool tone, each word a hammer, "This house is only as good as its men, my lord. To keep good men, you must treat them all as your family. Your father would have paid a king's ransom to retrieve one of his guards. Treating your servants as if they are—"

Shamur rose from her seat and cut him off.

"That's enough, Erevis."

Cale turned to face her with angry words on his lips, but when he saw her, saw the disappointed look in her eyes—at him or Tamlin, he couldn't be sure—he held his tongue.

Shamur looked him directly in the eyes and said, "Tamlin is not his father. And you've made your point."

Cale was not so sure, but still he held his tongue. His words had been harsh, true, but Tamlin needed harsh. The young lord of Stormweather's life had been too soft, too insulated, and it affected his decision-making. Tamlin seemed to regard his men as interchangeable commodities. If the men came to know that, House Uskevren would soon have no men, or at least none with loyalty. Despite Tamlin's growth over recent months, Cale still found him too weak.

The word was hard, but Cale thought it accurate. He could never serve such a man. It was well that he was leaving.

Shamur, still standing, stared at him, awaiting his acknowledgment.

He gave it, saying, "My apologies, my lady."

He felt Tazi's gaze on him but did not look at her.

Shamur nodded and sat.

In a softer tone, she said, "Erevis, I would ask that you reconsider your resignation until this matter is resolved."

To his credit, Tamlin immediately added, "Yes, Cale. Your advice is needed and would be welcome."

Tamlin's words surprised Cale. It could not have been easy to make that request after the rebuke Cale had just given him. It showed maturity. Cale sighed. When it came to his perception of the young lord, he seemed to careen at random between contempt and hope.

Shamur must have read his face. She smiled at him and nodded, obviously proud of her son. Perhaps Tamlin could preserve House Uskevren. Perhaps he was just young, and would learn with time.

Cale decided that he would think so. He gave Tamlin a deferential nod.

"As always, my lord is gracious with his praise. Please forgive my harsh words. I spoke in haste, still flush from combat. I—"

Tamlin waved a hand dismissively and said, "No apologies . . . Erevis. I deserved it. You're right about ensuring the return of our man, of course. Please, continue."

Tamlin had never before called Cale by his first name. Cale thought that might mark a step forward in their relationship. It pleased him to think so.

"My lord, lady, I appreciate your offer but I believe my presence here only adds to the family's danger. I would propose another way."

"And that is?" asked a wary Shamur.

"I propose that I take the half-sphere and leave Stormweather."

Tamlin and Shamur both began to shake their heads.

"My lord, lady, the presence of the half-sphere in the house only ensures another attack here."

"Let them come," said Shamur.

"Yes, let them," added Tamlin.

Cale ignored them and went on, "I have contacts that I might call upon. We can keep it hidden until our attackers make contact. In the meantime, I can attempt to learn more of the sphere."

He was, in fact, desperate to learn more of the sphere.

"Where will you go?" Thazienne asked, softly. The concern in her voice touched Cale.

"It's better that none of you know. I will allow them to make contact with me after I've learned the nature of the sphere. When they do, I will handle the negotiations for Ren's return."

Tamlin stood, turned, and walked to the large window that overlooked the gardens. He stared into the darkness, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You'll give them our half of the sphere?" the young lord asked.

Cale hadn't made up his mind about that yet. It depended on what he learned of it.

"If necessary, my lord."

"And if it's valuable, or dangerous?"

"My lord already knows that it must be both." It had to be, else why risk a direct attack on Stormweather to get it? Cale approached Tamlin and looked him in the face. "I'll find out all that I can before I make any exchange. If it's such that I cannot risk turning it over, I'll so inform you and get Ren back another way. Afterward, we can discuss what to do with this half."

Tamlin sighed, turned toward the window, and considered Cale's words. In the dim light, his posture and expression looked eerily like Thamalon.

From behind, Shamur asked, "Why alone, Cale? Why you?"

Tamlin too seemed interested in Cale's answer to that question. He turned to look at Cale. Cale could not tell them that he thought his god was involved, and that his internal code demanded that he personally avenge the attack at the Stag.