Tom checked the horses with the reins, keeping them wide to negotiate the wagon around a switchback. "Ask for Captain Lerner," he said at last.

Jennsen glanced over at him, surprised that he had offered a name rather than an objection. "A friend of yours?"

The reins moved ever so slightly, with practiced precision, guiding the horses around the bend. "I don't know if I'd call him a friend. I've dealt with him a time or two."

"Wine?"

Tom smiled. "No. Other things."

He apparently didn't intend to say what other things. Jennsen watched the sweep of the Azrith Plains and distant mountains as they rode up the side of the plateau. Somewhere beyond those plains, those mountains, lay freedom.

At the top, the road leveled out before a great gate through the massive outer wall of the palace. The guards stationed before the gate there waved them through, then blew whistles in a short series of notes to others, unseen, beyond the walls. Jennsen realized that they had not arrived unannounced.

She nearly gasped as they cleared the short tunnel through the massive outer wall. Inside, expansive grounds spread out before them. Lawns and hedges bordered the road that curved toward a hill of steps well over a half mile away. The grounds inside the walls were teeming with soldiers in smart uniforms of leather and chain mail covered with wool tunics. Many, with pikes held upright at precisely the same angle, lined the route. These men were not loafing about. They weren't the kind to be surprised by what came up the road.

Tom took it all in casually. Jennsen tried to keep her eyes pointed ahead. She tried to look indifferent amid such splendor.

Before the hill of steps awaited a reception party of guards over a hundred strong. Tom pulled the wagon into the pocket they'd formed blocking the road. Jennsen saw, standing on the steps overlooking the soldiers, three men in robes. Two wore silver-colored robes. Between them, one step higher, stood an older man wearing white, both hands held in the opposite sleeves trimmed in golden-colored braiding that shimmered in the sunlight.

Tom set the brake on the wagon as a soldier took control of the horses to keep them from moving. Before Tom could begin climbing down, Jennsen put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"This is as far as you go."

"But you-"

"You've done enough. You helped with the part I needed. I can handle it from here on out on my own."

His measured, blue-eyed gaze swept over the guards standing around the wagon. He seemed reluctant to accede. "I don't think it could hurt if I went along."

"I'd rather you go back to your brothers."

He glanced to her hand on his arm before looking up into her eyes. "If that's your wish." His voice lowered to little more than a whisper. "Will I see you again?"

It sounded more like a request than a question. Jennsen could not bring herself to deny such a simple thing, not after all he had done for her.

"We'll need to go down to the market to buy some horses. I'll stop by your place, first, right after I'm done inside with getting my friend released,»

"Promise?"

Under her breath, she said, "I have to pay you for your servicesremember?"

His lopsided grin reappeared. "I've never met anyone like you, Jennsen. I. ." He noticed the soldiers, remembering then where he was, and cleared his throat. "I'm thankful you let me do my small part, ma'am. I will hold you to your word on the rest of it."

He had risked enough by bringing her this far-a risk he hadn't known he was taking, Jennsen fervently hoped that in her brief smile he would see how genuinely grateful she was for his help, since she didn't think she could afford to keep her promise to see him before they left.

With his powerful hand gripping her arm to halt her for a final word, he spoke in a low but solemn voice. "Steel against steel, that he may be the magic against magic."

Jennsen had absolutely no idea what he meant. Staring into his intense gaze, she answered with a single, firm nod.

Not wanting to let the soldiers suspect that she might really be mildmannered, Jennsen turned away and climbed down from the wagon to stand before the man who looked to be in charge. She allowed him only a perfunctory look at the knife before replacing it in the sheath at her belt.

"I need to see the man in charge of any prisoners you're holding. Captain Lerner, if memory serves me."

His brow drew together. "You want to see the captain of the prison guards?"

Jennsen didn't know his rank. She didn't know much of anything about military matters, except that for most of her life soldiers like these had been trying to kill her. He could be a general, or, for all she knew, a corporal. As she considered the man, his dress, his age, his bearing, she reasoned that he definitely looked more than a corporal. She feared to make a mistake with his rank, though, and decided it would be healthier to ignore it.

Jennsen dismissed his question with a curt flick of her hand. "I haven't got all day. I'll need an escort, of course. You and some of your men will do, I suppose."

As she started up the steps, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Tom wink at her. It lifted her heart. The soldiers had parted to let his wagon leave, so he flicked the reins and urged his big horses away. Jennsen hated to see his comforting presence go. She turned her mind from her fears.

"You," she said, gesturing to the man in the white robes, "take me to where you hold prisoners."

The man, the top of his head showing through his thinning gray hair, lifted a finger, sending most of the milling guards back to their posts. The officer of mysterious rank and a dozen of his soldiers remained behind her.

"May I see the knife?" the man in the white robes asked in a gentle voice.

Jennsen suspected that this man, able to dismiss guards of rank, must be someone important. Important people in Lord Rahl's palace might have the gift. It occurred to her that if he did have the gift, he would see her as a hole in the world. It also occurred to her that this was a very poor time to blurt out a confession, and an even worse time to try to bolt for the gate. She had to hope that he was a palace official and that he wasn't gifted.

Many of the soldiers were still watching. Jennsen casually pulled her knife from the sheath at her belt. Without a word, but showing a face that clearly said she was running out of patience, she held the knife up before the man's eyes so he could see the ornate «R» on the handle.

He looked down his nose at the weapon before returning his attention to her. "And this is real?"

"No," Jennsen snapped, "I smelted it while sitting around the campfire last night. Are you going to take me to where you hold prisoners, or not?"

Showing no reaction, the man graciously held out a hand. "If you would follow me this way, madam."