Zvain went to work on his shirt-seams again. "We've got to keep the light from her eyes," he insisted. "It's the light that makes her see things."

Yohan had recovered. "We can use this," he said, tearing off a strip from the linen bedding.

"No!" Zvain lunged forward and pulled the cloth from the dwarf's hands. "It's dirty! Filthy! Let me rinse it out."

And Pavek, suddenly remembering the slops bucket Zvain had once emptied on that linen, was inclined to agree. The boy darted past him and carried the linen out of the room- once again the clever, impulsive, and willful boy Pavek had remembered.

He sheathed the sword he'd been holding all this time. Yohan, who had dropped his obsidian knife when Akashia first screamed, retrieved it as well.

"Seems a good lad," the dwarf said for Pavek's ears alone. "You never mentioned saving his life."

"I didn't. He saved mine. I owed him."

"You owe him again."

"If we can trust him. If he's telling the truth." "I ken nothing amiss in him. Do you?"

"Trust yourself. What harm can a boy do?"

He shrugged, recalling a bruise that took a painful-long time to fade, but accepted the dwarf's assessment with some relief.

Akashia was still huddled in Ruari's arms when Zvain returned with the damp cloth, which he returned to Yohan. •

"You put it over her eyes, please. She knows you; she doesn't know me. I think she's afraid of me."

And with Ruari's help, Yohan did. "We've got to find a healer," the dwarf said when they were done. "Got to get the poison drawn out of her."

"Healers can't help," Zvain said solemnly. "We tried healers. There's nothing they can do. They said to keep my father quiet, keep the sun from hurting his eyes. But when his eyes were burning, the only thing that would stop the pain was more Laq. We've got to get her away from Urik. You've got to take her home."

Pavek looked from Yohan to Ruari and back again. "Zvain knows more about Laq than any of us."

"We'll need a cart-" Yohan began.

"I can get a cart," Zvain said, moving close to Yohan and his visible coin purse again. He and the dwarf were about the same height and appraised each other evenly. "There's always carts left in the village market after the farmers sell their crops. I can get you one for a silver piece."

"What do you think, Pavek?"

"Hadn't thought about it, but I imagine he's right. You can go with him, or I can-"

"I can go myself! I've been doing everything for myself since you left."

... A thought that gave Pavek one more pause as the boy slipped silently out the door with a pair of Yohan's silver coins.

Zvain wasn't gone long and came back with a typical village handcart plus a basket of food-and a scant handful of ceramic bit coins that he counted carefully into the dwarf's powerful hand, a degree of honesty that gave Pavek another twinge of doubt. A twinge that faded abruptly when he saw a final bit palmed.

Akashia had fallen asleep while Zvain was scrounging in the market. They tried, and failed to awaken her.

"It's a good thing," Yohan said as he prepared to hoist her over his shoulder. "She feels safe enough now to sleep. She couldn't very well let herself sleep where she was."

But it was disconcerting to see her arms dangling down Yohan's back, limp and lifeless, as he carried her from the bolt-hole to the alley where the cart was waiting.

In the weeks following a Tyr-storm it wasn't uncommon to see people who'd been blinded by the blue-green lightning or maddened by the howling winds. Akashia seemed no different than any other storm victim-or a Laq victim. Passersby averted their eyes and twisted their fingers into luck signs as the cart rolled past, but they approached the walls without attracting significant attention.

"You said getting into Urik was the easy part and getting out again would be more difficult. Now, how're we going to get out?" Ruari whispered anxiously to Pavek when the western gate and its complement of templar guards loomed before them. "We didn't register at a village. We didn't come in through a gate so we didn't give our thumb-prints to the guards?"

"We're citizens of Urik, aren't we?" Pavek asked with a grin. "We have the right to visit any village we choose, whenever we choose, for whatever purpose we choose. We'll just smile at the templars as we leave the city, and then just not come back."

Ruari's eyes widened. "That's all? That's all? Why does anybody going in either direction ever bother to register? Just say you're a citizen and be done with id"

"Well, well have to bribe them, too," Pavek admitted and fell back a pace to walk beside Yohan. "How much silver have you got left?"

"How much do we need?"

Pavek rubbed his chin. "One silver piece for each of us should be enough. One silver piece for each of them-" he indicated the knot of templars, "and an inspector's likely to offer to pull the cart for us."

Yohan grumbled but dug out seven silver pieces. "I can pull the cart"

The coin purse was nearly flat when four loaded kanks left the open pen of the borderland homestead. Zvain proudly, but somewhat anxiously, rode by himself with the provisions on the fourth kank. Akashia rode behind Ruari. She had not awakened at all during the long, hot walk from the city to the homestead, nor when they lifted her onto the kank's back and contrived to tie her to the saddle like so much precious cargo. With her cloth-bound head resting against Ruari's back and her hands resting limply against his thighs, she was no trouble at all.

And no help either.

"Which way?" Pavek asked.

The sun was sinking in front of them; Urik and the homestead were behind them. They'd gotten this far simply by retracing their steps along the Urik roads. Now Pavek looked out at the wilderness. Nothing looked wrong-how could it when everything looked the same? Nothing felt quite right either, and there was a dark hole in his memory where his home-Akashia's home-should have been.

"You don't know the way?" Zvain sputtered. "You're taking me out into the middle of nowhere to die?" Ruari answered first: "We know the way. We just can't remember all of it. Grandmother hid the knowledge away when we left for Urik. When we get to the Sun's Fist, then we'll remember."

They guided the kanks in a wide arc to the north and east. The sun set and they made camp. A crackling fire kept the night chill away and turned the food Zvain had provided into a simple feast. Yohan untied the cloth covering Akashia's eyes-over Zvain's objections that firelight would be enough to start the Laq burning behind her eyes again. But the savory aromas that set their mouths watering and made them impatient with each other and the cookpots had no effect on Akashia. Her eyes were open again, but she didn't seem to see the fire or anything else.

"She ate bread last night when I gave it to her," Ruari grumbled when another piece of journey-bread slipped unnoticed to the ground between her feet. "She's getting worse, not better."

Zvain nodded. "Laq," he said. "It doesn't take much sometimes. How far do we have to go? How much longer until we get there?"

"A few days." Yohan picked up the journey-bread, then threw it in the fire. He put another piece in her hand and, holding her fingers together, maneuvered the food to her lips. Her eyelids fluttered, she took a small bite and, very slowly, began to chew. "We'll make it, Kashi. Grandmother will be waiting for us. She'll take care of you."

Zvain nudged Pavek with his elbow. "Who's this 'Grandmother?'"

"The high druid." He couldn't think of a better description. "She's the one who says when it's time to take zarneeka seeds to Urik. She's the one who can cut the poison off at its root."