Lyim dispelled the disguise with a wave of his hand. Kirah stood before him once more in her dirty yellow frock and hair.

"You have no idea how difficult it is to speak around those teeth!" she laughed. "Fooling the Berwicks was easy by comparison."

"Speak for yourself," muttered Lyim, rubbing his temples. He was unused to casting so many spells at once, not to mention the pressure of negotiating peace. Still and all, this good deed had been easy enough to accomplish.

He'd not admit it to Kirah, but he'd expected more of a fight from the Berwicks. All it took to convince them was a poem he'd plucked from the befuddled knight's memory. "We were fortunate you were close enough in size to Ingrid Berwick and remembered her features in enough detail for me to superimpose them on you."

"Who could forget those teeth?" Kirah chortled once more. "I'll tell you who's really lucky-Guerrand, for not marrying into that family!" Kirah almost felt like herself again. The tension she'd held in her shoulders since Lyim had suggested the ruse eased away.

Lyim saw it. "Don't get too relaxed, Kirah. There's much work to be done yet."

"Like what?"

"Like releasing your sister-in-law, Rietta, from the binding spell that kept her out of sight while we addressed the knights."

"Must we?" Kirah pouted, then rolled her eyes. "Oh, I suppose you're right. Someone will surely notice that she hasn't issued a shrewish order for a least an hour."

Lyim laughed, then grew serious. "We also must send a missive immediately to Cormac at Stonecliff, apprising him of the attack, before Berwick finds out he's been duped and returns."

Remembering Lyim's promise, Kirah clapped a hand over her mouth. "What's he going to say when he finds out someone promised to return Stonecliff?"

"He's going to be furious, particularly when he can't find the man who promised it." He shrugged. "Under the circumstances, I had no choice. Besides, it occurred to me later that forfeiture of the land will happen as a matter of course. I didn't really lie about 'retiring from occupying the land.' " Kirah looked puzzled.

Lyim glanced over the battlement to check the retreat's progress. "As I figure it, once your brother hears that his castle is being sieged, he'll return immediately with every man he's got, leaving Stonecliff undefended. If Berwick is smart, he'll take measures to ensure that Stonecliff is not so easily taken from him again. Things will return to normal, unless your brother is foolish enough to start the whole cycle up again."

"I can't wait to see Cormac's face when he returns and discovers some mystery man chased away the Berwicks!" With the impulsiveness of a happy child, Kirah threw her arms around Lyim's neck and kissed his cheek.

Red-faced, the apprentice gripped her by the shoulders and set her back down. He looked intently at the young girl. "You know, Kirah, that you can never tell anyone what we did today. Can I trust you to keep our secret after I'm gone?"

Kirah felt suddenly deflated, and it had nothing to do with their secret. Of course Lyim would leave, she chided herself. How could he stay? He had a life somewhere else… with Guerrand. It was just that, for a day, she'd had someone to confide in again. She would miss it more than ever now. More than Lyim knew, things would, indeed, return to normal again. And normal was nearly death to Kirah.

The young girl sighed. "Of course I can keep our secret," she murmured. Struck with a thought, Kirah gave him a penetrating look. "Why did you do all this?"

Lyim held his palms up. "Never explain, never defend, that's my motto," he said.

Kirah's expression was pure envy. "Rand is very lucky to have a friend who would risk life and limb for his family."

Lyim's dark head shook from side to side, his hair brushing Kirah's cheek. "Rand would do the same for me," said the mage kindly, steering her back down the stairs.

The task done, Lyim felt the pressure to return to Palanthas. It had taken twice as long to reach Guerrand's homeland as they'd planned for, and Lyim was afraid even inattentive Belize would begin to wonder where he was. The faster he released Rietta and sent the missive to Cormac, the sooner he could return to Palanthas and tell Guerrand the good news. Saving his friend's family, Lyim felt certain, more than made up for his behavior at the Jest.

Lyim watched his friend's kid sister scamper happily down the steps and smiled affectionately. He liked Kirah, and it was obvious she had grown more than a little fond of him. He liked that, too. He was used to females falling for his charms. One never knew when life paths would cross again, and it never hurt to have friends in many ports. Just like it never hurt to have friends in your debt.

Chapter Fifteen

Peering through wooden louvers in the vestibule, Guerrand watched Esme speak to Harlin and Mitild, the guardian statues, then depart the formal garden for the road that led into the city. Guerrand crept through the atrium like a hapless thief with a guilty secret. Thank the gods Justarius was proxy for Belize at tonight's meeting of the Council of Three. With Esme having just left for the Library of Palanthas, he would have all the time he needed to search her small room.

Lyim had been gone for nearly three weeks. Guerrand thought it likely the apprentice had made it to Northern Ergoth by now, if he hadn't been thrown overboard for casting spells. Had he spoken with Kirah yet? Had he been able to stop the siege on the castle? Guerrand wondered about these things often, envying the other apprentice's freedom. He would give anything, except his apprenticeship, to see his little sister for even a moment.

At the far right corner of the peristyle was the formal dining room that separated Guerrand's room from Esme's. Justarius's two apprentices kept different hours-Esme rose early, Guerrand stayed up late-so their paths didn't cross often. He had never been in her room, but he always paused outside his own to glance through the ornate archway into her antechamber. He liked to picture her at work inside, bent over a spell-book, chewing at the end of her braid in concentration.

After looking over both shoulders for Denbigh, Guerrand slipped through the arch. The antechamber was dark, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw that its curved walls were elaborately painted with bright reds, yellows, and blues, outlined in gold. A smaller archway, curtained off with heavy velvet, lay before him.

Guerrand moved quickly toward the curtain and pulled it back, hoping that Esme was more trusting than she ought to be. So far, so good, Guerrand thought when no spell-sprung thing leaped out or pinned him down. A light blinked on. Guerrand froze.

He spotted the source and slowly released his breath. A small glass globe, much like those in Justarius's lab, rested on a three-legged vallenwood table polished to a high gloss. Esme must have enchanted it to light the room whenever she passed through the curtain. It was a clever trick, which Guerrand resolved to remember.

Esme's sleeping room was very like his own, though the decorations bore a woman's touch. All about were bowls of sweet-smelling rose and lavender petals. Ever the mage, she, too, had shelves of pickled creatures, but she had far more dried herbs arranged in eye-pleasing wreaths and swags woven with strands of pearls and semiprecious gems. Skeins of ribbon and woolen yarn hung from a peg on the wall, waiting to tie up more drying bundles of herbs.

Guerrand was impressed. Where his room looked dim, stuffed, and cluttered, Esme's was well lit, neat, and inviting. There was something interesting to look at on every surface and in every corner.

Tucked into the harp-shaped back of her desk was a small cameo, black-inked on golden parchment. The subject's profile looked so familiar that Guerrand was drawn in for a closer glimpse. Strong patrician nose and chin-it could have been Esme, save for the long, curling mustache above the full lips. Her father, Guerrand concluded.