I could see how the burden of caring for her father weighed on her.

Weariness had taken its toll on her posture. Likewise her hair. The first few times I had seen her, it was carefully brushed and restrained with combs, but as she spent more time caring for her father, she spent less time attending to her looks. Wild cascades of loose curls covered her shoulders and back and occasionally fell into her eyes. When we visited-always standing in the street-I would find myself wanting desperately to reach out and touch her hair, gently brush it out of her eyes. But always I hesitated. What if she were to shrink from the touch of my hands?

I couldn't risk it. I enjoyed our conversations far too much. Ashana spoke easily to me of many things-the weather, her father, her childhood, her love of stargazing. Her voice was warm, with a clear, rich timbre. I loved to listen to her talk. More than that, though, I found her outlook on life fascinating. She was more than optimistic; she truly saw some good in everything around her.

As much pain as she felt watching her father suffer, for instance, she pointed out how much worse his condition would be if she hadn't gotten the Wa herb from me. Perhaps this was just a polite observance on her part, but I certainlyenjoyed hearing it.

She told me her father was a merchant, a successful man who, in better times, had traveled far and returned home with outrageous tales of hunts for griffon scales and dragon eggs. Apparently, though, the family was now of more modest means. Ashana's brother, Menge, had squandered much of the family's wealth. I should point out that this is my interpretation, not Ashana's.

In my curiosity about her, I had tried to learn more about her and her family. I found that Menge was best known at local taverns and brothels. By all accounts, he was his sister's opposite-a despicable parasite, incapable of work or accomplishment of any sort.

Yet in the confidences Ashana shared with me, she never spoke bitterly of him. Sometimes I thought I saw a flash of sadness or a hint of resentment cross her face, but she never said anything negative. In fact, she didn't call Menge any of the things others did. Privately, I wondered if she and her brother had been born of the same mother. I'd learned that her father was a widower, but I didn't know how many times, and I certainly would never ask.

I was starting an a.s.signment for Renek-preparing to research his next kill-when Ashana came to my apothecary a second time. It had been at least a tenday since I'd seen her last. She was visibly weary, her eyes sunken from time without sleep. I waited for her to speak.

She locked eyes with me for several long, silent seconds. Finally, she licked her lips and began: "Sometimes he ... sometimes Daddy hallucinates,"

she said. "And he's in pain. The cleric has given me a prayer balm, and a healer gave me something to help him with the pain, but if it gets much worse, he'll need something ... something stronger."

I was startled by her words. At every other encounter she had seemed so positive-as if she would never give up hope.

And then I wondered if I had understood her intent. How could she know of my poisons? It's not something I talk about, and I always a.s.sumed Bokun thought of me merely as an amateur herbalist. Certainly, even if anyone knew Renek's occupation, they would not think me his accomplice, but rather his personal valet.

I hesitated, hoping she would clarify her meaning.

She pressed again. "Daddy and I... we still have some good moments, but I'm not sure how much longer that will last. I want to be sure that when the time comes, when there are no s.p.a.ces between the pain, that I can help him cope ... one last time." She grabbed my hands again. "Please."

She meant it. I couldn't envision what pain her father must be in that she would come to me with such a request.

"Can he still swallow?" I asked.

She nodded.

I found it difficult to imagine Ashana killing her father, even as a matter of mercy. I actually felt queasy thinking about it, but I tried to offer a solution.

"There is a poison you can mix with tea," I suggested. "He'll feel nothing-"

"He might not be able to swallow for much longer. Do you have...

something else?"

Of course I knew of dozens of poisons and even more methods of administering death, but I couldn't help wondering what she must think of me to ask such a thing. I tried to come up with something simple and humane.Finally, I prepared a poisoned lancet she could administer herself. "This will be fast," I a.s.sured her. "But be careful. It could k-it could harm you or someone else as easily as it will help your father."

She took my hands in hers, then pulled me toward her and kissed my cheek. Like the touch of her hands, her kiss felt amazingly warm. I suppose it was a simple gesture of grat.i.tude, but I wanted very much for it to be more.

While I stood reveling in the sensation, she grabbed the packet I'd prepared and dashed off.

I worked numbly after she left, packing, trying to get my mind back on Renek's next victim. Renek had explained that Sil was a mage's apprentice whose death was sought by a senior apprentice. Sil had been watching when the older apprentice's spell went awry, and he threatened to tell the sorcerers'

council. For that, the senior apprentice had hired an a.s.sa.s.sin to kill Sil.

As usual, I was to watch the victim, learn his habits and look for an opening for Renek.

I went to Scardale alone. I found it a seedy, chaotic place, cluttered with brothels and second-rate taverns. Even the most typical-looking pubs catered to black marketers, Zhentish soldiers, thugs and smugglers. My master had said he would arrive in a fortnight, ostensibly after he pursued the terms of another hunt. I've often wondered what Renek does when I am researching the kill. Occasionally, he claims to complete an a.s.sa.s.sination himself, but I have my doubts. He never provides details.

At any rate, in this case I was able to make my way close to the intended victim quite easily by hawking some of the herbs and special materials I use for my work in the town's makeshift wizards' market. When the apprentice, Sil, chanced near, I tipped a cerulean crystal so that it glistened in the sunlight.

The brilliant blue flash caught the attention of several people nearby, including the apprentice. He came my way, and I struck up a conversation.

Sil was young, even for an apprentice-fifteen maybe. His voice still cracked at times, and I'm sure shaving once a ten-day was more than adequate to keep his face free of stubble. He was quick to chatter and show off. Like most young mages, he was constantly trying his magic, casting spells to fetch things when carrying them would be easier. Yet he had a certain aura about him. He could be powerful some day. Already, he appeared to have an unusual capacity to command animals.

A full-grown opossum clung with the stubbornness of a burr to the shoulder of his loosely fit tunic, its queer pink eyes seeming to review anyone pa.s.sing near the boy. Sil spoke to it, not as one speaks to a pet, but as to an equal.

And, clearly, it responded. I could see the animation of its features. The ratlike animal gestured with a free paw and seemed to scratch a rear foot occasionally for emphasis. It certainly looked as if the creature was born of stronger magic than the callow boy could possibly possess. It was because of the opossum that I felt sure Renek would want to be extra cautious with this one.

I found myself liking the boy, yet it was easy to see why others might not.

He was not shy about his intelligence, and he exuded the kind of grating self- righteousness that only the truly naive can muster. No doubt the tale he wished to share with the sorcerers' council would be told in a tone of awe, as if he could not imagine how his fellow apprentice could possibly have strayed so far from the teachings of his master."A young man like yourself could use a stone like this," I said, flashing the gemstone again in the bright sunshine of early summer.

Sil was tall, nearly my equal in height, and he met my eyes. He tipped his head, waiting for me to say more, but before I could, a gnome, gnarled by decades or likely even centuries of harsh living, pushed his way in front of Sil.

"You flashing that thing to get attention, or you planning to sell it?"

"Both," I said, trying to keep a casual eye on Sil as I spoke with the old one.

The gnome extended a deformed hand with two hook-like, reptilian fingers.

"May I see it?" he asked.

I must have hesitated. He thrust his stumpy hand up toward me. "I know how to handle it!" he insisted.

I leaned down and held the stone out on the flat of my palm. I tried not to shudder when he touched me.

"Ahhh," he sighed, clearly relishing the cool feel of the cerulean in his fingers. "This will work well, yes?"

I nodded.

Sil moved even closer, looking down at the gnome's contorted fingers and at the smooth, perfect stone. The opossum looked on with the same intensity.

"What do you use it for?" Sil asked.

"Ice magic," the gnome and I responded in unison.

Clearly the boy wanted to ask something more, but the gnome plunked the gemstone back on my small stand and spit a question of his own: "How much?"

I ignored him and attempted to finish my response to Sil. "Surely, a young man like yourself has considered making snow fall out of season?"

"I've tried, but I haven't mastered the spell," said the boy.

"How much?" the gnome asked again, pulling his shoulders back and speaking loudly to make himself more visible between the two of us.

"Your choker should settle it," I said, pointing to the wide gold band around the gnome's thick neck.

I expected him to scoff, but he reached his stunted hands under his wild gray beard to unclip the choker.

"Wait. Will you take this?" The apprentice pulled a large midnight blue cloth from his belt. He fluttered it gently over the crystal, and where the lump should have been, the surface was smooth.

"A parlor trick-or thievery!" The gnome yanked the cloth off the table, but the crystal was where he had set it.

"Rest your hand on the table," said Sil. He motioned to the gnome, who eyed him skeptically but thrust an arm forward. The boy laid the cloth lightly over the gnome's reptilian hand, and again the plush blue material lay smooth on the small table. The gnome's arm appeared to end at the table's edge.

"Only works on a flat surface," Sil said, almost apologetically. "But it's handy.

And quite valuable."

The gnome jerked his arm out from under the cloth.

Si l looked at me expectantly. "How about it?"

"A parlor trick," the gnome repeated. "This is valuable," he said, flopping his gold choker down on the cloth.

"But it's a parlor trick I haven't seen," I countered quickly. I had the choice of angering the gnome or doing what I had intended, which was to use the crystal to learn more about the boy. "And I've seen a good deal of magic in mytime."

"Humans!" the gnome harrumphed in disgust. "Your time's so short you don't know the difference between a child's toy and real magic. What'll a boy like him be doing with a stone like that?"

I shrugged. "Making snowstorms?"

"A waste! A b.l.o.o.d.y waste!" The gnome flailed a twisted arm toward the apprentice.

The opossum hissed, and its fur bristled. I've no idea what sort of sound an opossum generally makes, if any, but this sound was almost human, and filled with malice.

The gnome recoiled and seemed instantly shorter. "Keep it away!"

The boy put a calming hand on the animal, and it immediately quieted.

"She'll do you no harm if you do me none," he said matter-of-factly.

"She'll do me no harm on any count!" The gnome gave the animal a hateful gaze.

"Touch her and you'll die," the apprentice hissed back with an edge I found startling. I didn't think he had that kind of venom in him.

The gnome remained withdrawn, seeming especially small, but rage stirred in his gray eyes. He turned, as if he would leave. And then he lunged my way.

I reached, but he seized the crystal and thrust it toward the opossum. He sputtered hasty words, arcane and guttural. Instantly, white light shot from the crystal and connected with the animal.

The opossum leapt, jolted. It landed clutching the gnome's face, clawing and scrabbling for purchase. The gnome flailed at his own head, trying to dislodge the opossum, but his arms were too short.

People pressed in, drawn to the spectacle. But those closest pressed back, perhaps sensing the fury in the young apprentice's eyes. Brilliant light refracted from the crystal still in the gnome's crude hand. The gnome screamed. The opossum screamed. The stone fell from the gnome's hand.

And the gnome stood, stiff as a statue, dusted with h.o.a.rfrost.

The apprentice gathered up the opossum. In fact, I was quite sure he whispered "Thank you" to it. I expect my mouth was stil l gaping when the boy picked up the crystal and turned back toward me. "Will you take the cloth for it?"

"How did you do that?" I asked.

"Parlor trick," he said. A hint of a bashful smile flickered across his face, but then he was serious again.

He set the stone on the cloth. "Well?"

"But. .. you're so young. I thought... I a.s.sumed you were an apprentice," I ventured.

"I am. But Pocket here's had a lot of practice." He patted the ratlike animal affectionately.

"That...?"

'"Possum," he filled in for me. "My father gave her to me before he died. He was a pretty impressive wizard, I guess. I never saw much of him. When he died, I got all his trappings but not much of his talent."

"Really? Isn't he-?" I nodded toward the frost-covered gnome.

"Dead? Most likely. You heard me warn him not to touch her, so I'm not at all concerned about what the local garrison might say.. . ." His actions belied his bold words: He prattled on about the frozen gnome in the market, trying tomake it sound like an ordinary event in his young life.

And that's when he volunteered more information...."I didn't kill the gnome.

It was Pocket. Casting a spell on her is like shining light on a mirror; it reflects back on the caster."

I'd heard tales of such magic, but this seemed unusual in its force. Sil apparently thought so, too.

"But I've never seen it come out so powerful," he said. "I mean, it's a reflection, not the real thing. Do you think maybe it's because of the crystal or something?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Gosh, that old one would have killed me with the same spell for sure," he continued.

I wondered myself at the force of the reflected magic. More than that, I worried about what other unexpected powers the opossum might possess. I mentioned the way it gestured when Sil spoke to it. I was relieved when he blubbered on as I've seen other pet owners do about the special qualities of the animal. None were out of the ordinary. The opossum was smart the way a monkey is smart, or a rat.

Despite his earlier suggestion to the contrary, Sil's "crime"-or his pet's crime-bothered him so that he, enlisted my help to carry the gnome's body to the nearest garrison post for identification and burial, an uncommon and strikingly civilized gesture in these parts. As we struggled together through the market with the gnome's then-thawing body, Sil talked with innocent awe and appreciation about his studies. He spoke of a dream his father had pa.s.sed on of providing limited magical arts to husbandmen to help them grow bigger, healthier plants. I thought at first he was joking; I had never encountered a wizard from whom I would expect philanthropy. But Sil was quite serious, and he planned to carry the torch of his father's dream. He was pursuing special studies of his own, experimenting with weather-control spells to encourage plant growth. He told me that was why he wanted the crystal-to study its weather conductivity qualities.

The more I learned about Sil, the more disturbed I was by my a.s.signment.

Always before, Renek had been hired to kill people like Han-thugs of high level who add little or no value to the world around them. I had taken pride, in fact, in using my talents to aid my master in taking the lives of sc.u.m and vermin whose wealth and success were built on the dai ly squalor of underground slave trading and other seamy businesses.

But Sil was party to no such evils. I couldn't help thinking the apprentice who hired Renek was out of line seeking the death of this student. I wanted to call Renek before me and insist that he drop the a.s.signment. But of course, it was not my position to do so. And so instead, when Renek at last arrived, I suggested a plan of a.s.sa.s.sination that would be clean, quick, and dignified. I certainly didn't want the boy to suffer as Han had.

I offered to teach Sil all I could about the cerulean crystal so I would have further opportunities to spend time with him. We met in the market. The opossum it seemed was permanently attached to Sil's shoulder. I decided I must do my best to always appear friendly to it, despite the revulsion I actually felt for the creature. I a.s.sumed that like most animals, it would sense my discomfort, so I expressed to Sil the fact that I was very curious about the opossum but somewhat timid about animals in general. He said he would use Pocket to help me learn to be more comfortable around all beasts. He spoke as though that were some kind of exchange payment for the training I wasimparting to him about the cerulean. Such gross naivete.

At any rate, I endured the "lessons," smiling even when he would deign to let me hold his pet. Unfortunately, I always felt tempted to run to a well and wash after handling the animal. Unlike the fur of cats and rabbits, which is soft and pleasant to touch, the opossum's fur was coa.r.s.e and oily. Worse, I could sometimes see fleas where its wrinkled flesh showed between the hairs on its spa.r.s.ely furred ears and tail. I also did not care for the way the animal stared at me with its eerie, bulging eyes.

After the fourth such exchange, Sil invited me to his home. He lived alone in his parents' estate, a large, auspicious dwelling of a dozen rooms at least, though I never saw them all. I knew the location of the house, of course, and had pa.s.sed by it shortly after I arrived in Scardale, as part of my research. I realized almost too late that I needed to remember to let Sil lead me there.

He showed me his father's work area, now his. The library alone was bigger than my quarters at Renek's, and the adjacent storage area for spell components was equally large. Both opened to a huge, vaulted room filled with plants, which Sil said he used for practicing his magic. I had never seen a room like that. The gla.s.s that went into the ceiling must have taken the most skilled craftsmen years to complete.