Jennsen didn't want to go back to the inn, but it was dark and cold and she didn't know what else to do. It was disheartening that Lathea wouldn't answer their questions. Jennsen had pinned her hopes on the woman's help.

"What shall we do tomorrow?" Sebastian asked.

"Tomorrow?"

"Well, do you still want me to help you leave D'Hara, as you and your mother asked of me?"

She hadn't really thought it out. In view of what little Lathea had told her, Jennsen wasn't sure what to do. She stared absently out into the empty night as they trudged across the crusted snow.

"If we went to the People's Palace, I would have some answers," she said, thinking out loud. "And, hopefully, Althea's help."

Going to the People's Palace was by far the most dangerous alternative. But no matter where she ran, where she hid, Lord Rahl's magic would haunt her. Althea might be able to help. Maybe, somehow, she would be able to conceal Jennsen from him so she could have her own life.

He seemed to give her words serious thought, a long cloud of his breath trailing away in the wind. "We'll go to the People's Palace, then. Find this Althea woman."

She felt somehow uneasy when she realized that he wasn't offering any argument, or trying to talk her out of it. "The People's Palace is the heart of D'Hara. It's not just the heart of D'Hara, but the home of the Lord Rahl.»

"Then he wouldn't be likely to expect you to go there, would he?"

Expected or not, they would still be walking into the enemy's lair. No predator long neglected to notice the prey in his midst. They would be naked before his fangs.

Jennsen glanced over at the shadowed shape walking beside her. "Sebastian, what are you doing in D'Hara? You seem to have no love for the place. Why would you travel to a place you don't like?"

Beneath his hood, she saw his smile. "Am I that obvious?"

Jennsen shrugged. "I've met travelers before. They talk about places they've been, sights they've seen. Wonders. Beautiful valleys. Breathtaking mountains. Fascinating cities. You don't speak of anywhere you've been, or anything you've seen."

"You want the truth?" he asked, his expression now serious.

Jennsen looked away. She suddenly felt awkward, nosy-especially in light of what she wasn't telling him.

"I'm sorry. I have no right to ask such a thing. Forget I mentioned it."

"I don't mind." He looked over at her with a wry smile. "I don't think you would be one to report me to D'Haran soldiers."

She was appalled at the very idea. "Of course not."

"Lord Rahl and his D'Haran Empire wish to rule the world. I'm trying to help prevent that. I'm from south of D'Hara, as I told you before. I was sent by our leader, the emperor of the Old World, Jagang the Just. I am Emperor Jagang's strategist."

"Then you're someone of high authority," she whispered in astonishment. "A man of high rank." The astonishment quickly transformed to tingling intimidation. She feared to guess at his importance, his rank. In her mind it rose by the moment, notch by notch. "How am I to address one such as you?"

"As Sebastian."

"But, you're an important man. I'm a nobody."

"Oh, you're somebody, Jennsen Daggett. The Lord Rahl himself does not hunt nobodies."

Jennsen felt an odd and unexpected sense of uneasiness. She harbored no love for D'Hara, of course, but she still felt somewhat uncomfortable to know that Sebastian was there to help bring about the defeat of her land.

The twinge of loyalty confused her. After all, the Lord Rahl had sent the men who had murdered her mother. The Lord Rahl hunted Jennsen, wanted her dead.

But it was the Lord Rahl who wanted her dead, not necessarily the people of her land. The mountains, the rivers, the vast plains, the trees and plant life had always all sheltered and nurtured her. She'd never really thought it through in that way before-that she could love her homeland, yet hate those who ruled it.

If this Jagang the Just succeeded, though, she would be freed from her pursuer. If D'Hara was defeated, Lord Rahl would be defeated-the rule of evil men would be ended. She would at last be free to live her own life.

In light of how open he was with her, she also felt foolish, even ashamed, for not telling Sebastian who she was and why Lord Rahl hunted her. She didn't know it all, herself, but she knew enough to know that Sebastian would share the same fate as she if they caught him with her.

As she thought about it, it began to make sense why he might not object to going to the People's Palace, why he might be willing to risk such a dangerous journey. As a strategist for the emperor Jagang, perhaps Sebastian would like nothing better than to sneak a look into the enemy's lair.

"Here we are," he said.

She looked up and saw the white clapboard face of the inn. A metal mug hanging from a bracket overhead squeaked as it swung to and fro in the wind. The sounds of singing and dancing spilled out onto the snowcovered silence of the night. With an arm around her shoulders, Sebastian sheltered her as they made their way through the great room, shielded her from the prying eyes, and led her to the stairs at the far side. If possible, the place was even more crowded and noisy than before.

Without pause, the two of them quickly ascended the stairs. Partway down the dim hall, he unlocked a door to the right. Inside, Sebastian turned the wick up on the oil lamp sitting on a small table. Alongside the lamp was a pitcher and washbasin and near the table a bench. Looming to the side of the room sat a high bed covered crookedly with a dark brown blanket.

The room was better than the home she had left, but Jennsen didn't like it. One wall was overlaid with drab, painted linen. The plastered walls were stained and flyblown. Since the room was on the second floor, the only way down was back through the inn. She hated the stink of the room a sour mixture of pipe smoke and urine. The chamber pot beneath the bed hadn't been emptied.

As Jennsen pulled a few things from her pack and went to the table to wash her face, Sebastian left her to it and went back downstairs. By the time she had finished washing and had brushed her hair, he returned with two bowls of lamb stew. He had brown bread, too, and mugs of ale. They ate sitting close together on the short bench, hunched over the table, close to the wavering light of the oil lamp.

The stew didn't taste as good as it looked. She picked out the chunks of meat but left the colorless, tasteless, soft vegetables. She sopped up some of the juice with the hard bread. She gave her ale to Sebastian and drank water instead. She wasn't used to drinking ale. To her the ale smelled as unpleasant as the lamp oil. Sebastian seemed to like it.

When she had finished eating, Jennsen paced in the confining room the way Betty paced in her pen. Sebastian threw a leg to each side of the bench and leaned back against the wall. His blue eyes followed her from the bed to the wall hung with linen and back again, as she began wearing a path in the plank floor.

"Why don't you lie down and get some sleep," he said in a soft voice. "I'll watch over you."

She felt like a trapped animal. She watched him take a long draft of ale from his mug. "And what will we do tomorrow?"

It wasn't only her dislike of the inn, of the room. Her conscience was eating at her. She didn't let him answer.

"Sebastian, I have to tell you who I am. You were honest with me. I can't stay with you and endanger your mission. I don't know anything about the important things you do, but being with me will only put you at great risk. You've already helped me more than I could have hoped, more than I ever could have asked."

"Jennsen, I'm already at risk being here. I am in the land of my enemy."

"And you're someone of high rank. An important man." She rubbed her hands together, trying to bring some warmth to her icy fingers. "If they captured you because you were with me… well, I couldn't bear it."

"I took the risk of coming here."

"But I haven't been honest with you-I haven't lied to you, but I haven't told you what I should have long ago. You're too important a man to chance being with me when you don't even know why I'm hunted, or what that attack back at my house was about." She swallowed at the painful lump in her throat. "Why my mother lost her life."

He said nothing, but simply gave her the time to gather herself and tell him in her own way. From the first moment she had met him, and he hadn't come close when she had been afraid, he always gave her the room she needed in order to feel safe. He deserved more than she gave him in return.

Jennsen finally brought a halt to her pacing and looked down at him, at his blue eyes, blue eyes like hers, like her father's.

"Sebastian, Lord Rahl-the last Lord Rahl, Darken Rahl-was my father.»

He took the news without any outward reaction. She couldn't know what he was thinking. As he gazed up at her, as calmly as he did when she wasn't telling him terrible news, she felt safe in his company.

"My mother worked at the People's Palace. She was part of the palace staff. Darken Rahl… he noticed her. It is the Lord Rahl's prerogative to have any woman he wants."

"Jennsen, you don't-"

She lifted a hand, silencing him. She wanted the whole thing out before she lost her nerve. Having always been with her mother, she feared being alone now. She feared he would abandon her, but she had to tell him what she knew.

"She was fourteen," Jennsen said, beginning the story as calmly as she could. "Too young to really understand about the ways of the world, of men. You saw how beautiful she was. At that young age, she was already pretty as could be, growing into a woman sooner than many her age. She had a bright smile and an innocent exuberance for life.

"She was a nobody, though, and to an extent excited to be noticeddesired-by a man of such power, a man who could have any woman he wanted. That was foolish, of course, but at her age and station it was flattering, and, in her innocence, I suppose it might have even seemed glamorous.

"She was bathed and pampered by older women on the palace staff. Her hair done up like a real lady. She was dressed in a beautiful gown for her meeting with the great man himself. When she was brought to him, he bowed and gently kissed the back of her hand-her, a servant in his great palace, and he kissed her hand. From all accounts, he was so handsome that he shamed the finest marble statues.