What he felt was white-hot rage. It was strong enough that Rialla pulled her head away from her knees to look at him. He stood where he had for so long, his face still. Without the link she wouldnat have known that he felt anything.

She didnat know what to say in the face of his fury. It surprised her that she could think of saying anything at all. If it had been Laeth, standing quietly in the darkness of the little cell, shead have been cowering in the opposite corner.

aI found some journals of Terranas,a she said finally, pleased that her voice sounded calm. aI thought he might have known about Karstenas murder and recorded it. Iam not sure if I got his oldest journal or the most recent one; I didnat have time to check.a aYou found it in Terranas room?a She felt his rage focus, and realized he must not have picked up who it had been.

There was too much. I couldnat catch everything. He told her, apparently catching her thought.

aYes,a she said. aI found it in Terranas room.a aHe just let you take it?a She shook her head. aNo. He was asleep in another room. I donat think that anyone will notice that itas gone until Terran tries to write in it again. I . . . umm . . . suggested to the guard who escorted me back that there was nothing uncommon in a slave taking one of Terranas journals.a Tris grunted.

aEven if I took the wrong one, he might have written about Winterseineas use of magic,a she added.

The shadows in the cell deepened with the lengthy silence, until the only light came from the stars.

Rialla cleared her throat, uneasy because Trisas rage wasnat abating. aWhat happened is just part of being a slave, and not the worst part either. He was clean and didnat go out of his way to hurt me. I donat think that he was impressed enough with my performance to want another one.a She knew that she wouldnat cry now, because slaves donat, and she felt more like a slave right now than a horse trainer or spy.

aIs ending slavery in Darran still so important to you?a he asked, his head turned away from her. aThe slaves here donat appear to be fighting nearly as hard for their freedom as you are.a Rialla nodded her head wearily.

aEven after this?a aYes.a aTomorrow,a asserted Tris heavily. aTomorrow we will leave.a Rialla stubbornly shook her head. aThe journal isnat going to be enough by itself. We need somethinga"a Her breath caught as the answer came to her. aWe need Winterseineas spellbook. All wizards have one . . . I think. Can you find where Winterseineas study is?a Slowly, Tris nodded. aItas somewhere on the upper floors. I can try to break in tomorrow.a aThen we leave,a said Rialla, feeling a wave of relief at the thought of being away from this place.

They talked a while longer, discussing ways of leaving the keep. There were several possibilities, depending on the time of day and how many guards they met. But, eventually, they lapsed into silence.

It was strange how much Terranas demands bothered Rialla. Sex had never been something that she enjoyed, but it was a part of slavery. She hadnat liked it, but she didnat remember the revulsion being so strong it was difficult not to fight back.

The time when Tris usually left for the night came and went. Shead reestablished some of the barrier between them, but it was more difficult to do this time than it had been the last. She found his presence comforting.

Rialla curled up on her side in the straw and closed her eyes. She was exhausted, but couldnat sleep. After her fourth or fifth attempt to find a comfortable position, she heard a polite murmur at the edge of her awareness.

Sweetheart.

She hesitated, then, reluctant for any kind of intimate contact, she spoke out loud. aWhat is it?a Come with me, Tris invited, his mind tugging gently at her.

Where? she asked, curious despite herself.

Here. He pulled her into his dreams.

She stood on a boulder and looked down at the immense waterfall, its thunder vibrating the very rock she rested on. The chilly mist that rose from the water settled on her clothing and darkened the rock under her feet. She glanced up to see mountain peaks looming on all sides; the ridges were white with new fallen snow, but the lower slopes were the rich blue-green of conifers.

The rushing sound of water falling onto the rocks far below deafened her, and she looked down, but the rising mist blocked her view of the bottom. She took a deep breath of the air and felt it again, that disturbance which had brought her to this place.

A narrow path wove along the damp stone cliff face, and she found herself striding down it as if it were a broad highway. As she put her hand on the rough bark of the cedar tree that clung precipitously to a narrow ledge just above the one she walked, she was aware of the slow migration of nutrients from its roots and the nourishing warmth of the sun from above. She paused for a moment, recognizing the peaceful triumph of the gnarled cedar. As she lingered, her insight grew and encompassed the growing things around her.

The broader awareness stayed with her as she continued her descent. There was something waiting in the mist, something special; Rialla could feel the tingling currents of magic in the rocks and air.

The trail shead been following ended abruptly as the cliff sloped down into the water a stoneas throw from where she stood. She squinted, but couldnat see anything through the dense fog of the waterfall. Moving water created powerful magic currents; there was enough magic in the gorge to have called a thunderstorm over a desert. With a wave of her hand, Rialla used some of that magic to dismiss the fog.

In the center of the roiling water, a large black stone protruded; the strange whisper of inner understanding designated the rock as a fire-stone, formed deep in the molten heart of the earth. On this stone something slept. If it hadnat been for the faint rise and fall of its breathing, she might not have seen it. As she distinguished first the side and then the back of the creature, she realized that most of the upper surface of the stone was actually a giant black lizard.

It was beautiful. Rialla searched for the inner knowledge that allowed her to know that the tree was cedar and that rivers held magica"but it wasnat there.

Iad never seen one before, said Tris unobtrusively. Iad been out walking when I felt the disturbance in the forest.

Thatas not a wyvern, stated Rialla, staring at the creature, not wanting to say anything further for fear of being wrong.

What do you think it is? replied Tris, with a touch of amusement. I didnat think that my carving was so far from the real animal. An image formed of the intricately carved game piece that resembled the sleeping lizard.

Even as Rialla questioned Tris, a jeweled green eye opened warily and the graceful head and neck uncurled and lifted, until the creature had as good a view of Rialla as she had of it. As it moved, the pattern of color on its scales shifted to match the white and blue of the rushing waterfall, then continued through a range of colors.

aAh,a said the dragon, in a voice rich with music and rustling scales, aI had thought that all of the children of the forest were gone.a TRIS WAITED UNTIL he was certain she was asleep. He shifted her clothes aside and picked up the book shead taken. If it were discovered with her, he was sure Winterseine would find an appropriate punishment.

It was harder leaving through the stone than it was coming in, when gravity aided his descent. He emerged outside the keep on his hands and knees in the dirt.

Rising, he shook the dirt off his clothes as best he could. He used his magic to summon the darkness and muffle the sounds of his movements. So concealed, it was a simple matter of stealth for him to arrive unseen at his small hut, nestled in the outer court like one of so many beehives. Head been offered accommodations in the servantsa hall, but head chosen a domicile that offered more privacya"even if it was less than impervious to the weather.

Rape in any form had always enraged him. It was a violation of the maleas protective rolea"even among the humansa"but this anger went deeper. Rialla was his, whether she knew it or not.

Guilt struck him at that thought. Rialla was his because she hadnat understood what the bond between them meant.

Despite the appearance of stolidity that his size and usual manner lent him, Tris had always been impulsive, even rash. He acted on the moment, without thought for the consequencesa"and he very seldom rued his actions. Even when he had been banished from the enclave, he hadnat regretted helping the girl. But this . . . this was different. This time he wouldnat be the only one to suffer for his impetuousness.

Head done it on impulse: initiating the link between the fire-haired dancer and himself. He could have figured out a better way to keep in contact if head wanted toa"but he wanted her . . . a human. He hadnat intended to bind himself to a human at all, though he had more tolerance for them than most of his kind. Even when he realized that she was the one Trenna had meant in her vision, he had no intention of bonding to her; Tris was not one who believed in fate. But he had known she was his. He would have recognized it even without Trennaas vision.

Rialla had intrigued him from the first, and not just because of her appearance, spectacular as it was. He relished her humor, her reluctant courage and her ability to play Dragon and win by fair means or foul. He hadnat known her long before he realized that the only way she was going to trust him enough to let him close to her was if he refused to allow any barriers between them.

There were not many among his people who were so joined anymore. Most had fallen into the simple marriage ceremony the humans used. Too often a perfect mate could not be found and the link waned rather than strengthened with time. But he had known it wouldnat be that way with Rialla, known it before he established the bond between them.

The connection was strong enough now that he couldnat break it. It had been too late once she inadvertently used his magic to find the water when Winterseine had adisciplineda her.

She could still block him out if she tried hard enough, but he didnat think that she could do that indefinitelya"then she would find out what head done. He wondered if she would prefer slavery. He wondered if shead see any difference between him and Winterseine. With a sigh, he closed his eyes.

IT WAS THE sound of the guardas key in the lock that woke Rialla the next morning. Tris was gone, of course, but it would have been nice if head told her what he planned to do before head left. She glanced casually at yesterdayas clothes, but the journal shead taken was gone too. She hoped Tris had been the one to take it. With a slight shrug, she followed the guard out to the practice floor.

The raised platform that served as a dance floor could also serve as a battleground. Even as Rialla worked to rid herself of the nightas stiffness, she could feel the hostility of the other slaves.

Of course they blamed her for the injury Winterseine had inflicted on the other dancer. The slave who had been hurt had been a comrade; Rialla was an outsider. She couldnat expect them to blame Winterseine: they were too well trained to object to their masteras actions. Rialla had shirked her duty, something that a good slave never does, and it had hurt of one of their own.

The other dancersa hostility didnat upset Rialla, but it served as an unpleasant reminder that once she would have reacted the same way.

As the first moves of the dance began, the girl next to Rialla waited until the dancemaster was looking away before she extended a foot too far. Rialla took a short step and avoided falling, having read the girlas intention an instant earlier. After that, Rialla used her empathy to avoid most of the mischief, and simply ignored the rest of it.

The dancemaster was good; he saw what was happening and moved Rialla away from the others: too much contention would disturb the training. She smiled grimly and concentrated on her dancing.

At break Tamas was waiting for her. He grabbed her arm with bruising force as she wiped her forehead with a rough piece of cotton towel. Rialla stiffened in surprise, not at Tamas, but at the snarl she felt from Tris; she hadnat noticed how near he was. Turning her head slightly, she saw him sitting in the shade near the keep, rubbing oil onto a smooth piece of wood.

To regain her attention, Tamas shook her lightly. aIt seems you caught the young masteras attention. He wants you to come with me.a She looked at him for a second in blank horror before she dropped her eyes, letting him drag her across the bailey and into the darkness of the keep.

Rialla trailed Tamas meekly enough through the twists and turns of the halls and up two flights of stairs into the more private area of the keep. When they reached a place that was quiet enough for her purposes, she struck.

Her elbow hit Tamas hard in the center of his chest. While he struggled for breath, she pushed his head violently into the wall.

aNice,a commented Tris from just behind her. He made no move to help as she lowered Tamas carefully to the floor.

aDid you find out where the study is?a Rialla asked from her position on the ground.

aYes,a Tris nodded, aone of the servants told me. Though I thought that wead be looking for it in the dead of night. Traveling through the keep unseen in the middle of the day is going to be difficult.a Rialla turned her attention to the unconscious servant and reached reluctantly to touch his face with her hands, wishing that physical contact didnat make mental touch so much easier.

The initial contact with his surface mind wasnat too bad, but when she probed more deeply, she felt as if she were being immersed in filth. Carefully, she ensured that he would sleep for a while longer, and then backed out of his mind. She was sweating when she stood up and tugged him into the shadows underneath the nearby stairs. She shook with the effort that it had taken to keep herself in contact with Tamasas distorted frame of reference. Trisas warm hands on her shoulders brought a measure of peace with them.

aSome people are harder to contact than others,a commented Rialla hoarsely, wiping perspiration off the back of her neck with the cloth that shead been using before Tamas took her into the keep. aI hope I never have to do that with him again.a aYou wonat if we make it out of here,a said Tris. aFollow me, keep alert and let me know if we are going to run into anyone.a They walked quietly down the corridor until they reached another, smaller stairway that circled up to an oaken door. From the shape of the walls, Rialla assumed that this was one of the two towers in the keep.

Carved into the door, the stylized cat of Altis eyed them austerely from above. Tris pointed upward, indicating the door. Rialla probed hastily for anything that hinted the room was occupied.

Tris waited until Rialla nodded before he started up the stairway. The door opened inward without a sound. There was a ostentatious gold key on the inside of the door. Rialla turned it, locking them in Winterseineas study.

The heavy drapes blocked most of the light, and as Rialla turned to her right she bumped into a narrow bookcase with her shoulder. It was nearly as tall as Rialla was, and apparently filled with books. It should have been heavy enough that a horse could have bumped into it without knocking it over.

Rialla looked with stunned disbelief as it tipped and started to fall. Tris grabbed at it, and managed to steady it.

aI thought that you were supposed to be graceful,a he quipped as she joined him straightening the books that had been disarranged.

aGraceful, yes,a she agreed, abut dancers donat need to see in the dark.a As she spoke, Rialla picked a book off the floor where it had fallen from an upper shelf. It was finely bound in leather, with a brass clasp to keep it closed, nothing to distinguish it from any other booka"except that it rattled.

aTris, could you light this room?a asked Rialla, working the clasp.

Light flared, then steadied. She opened the book to reveal that a section in the center had been cut out. In the resultant space was a plain silver ring, its only ornamentation a small blue stone, dislodged from the cloth it had been wrapped in. The ringas stone was polished smooth, and the indigo depths glittered oddly in the magelight. Rialla shivered with the uneasy sensation that the ring was examining them as much as they were inspecting it.

aThereas magic in that,a said Tris softly. aOld magic.a He shut the ring in the book without touching it and slipped the tome back into place on the shelf.

He took down the one next to it and opened it. It was hollow as well, but empty. The dagger, with its distinctive handle, was in the third book. The serpentas ruby eyes twinkled at them for a moment. Tris took it and tucked it into the leather apron that was standard garb for a woodcraftsman.

He put the book that had held the dagger back on its shelf. Hastily they continued to straighten the books, until the bookcase looked as neat as the others in the room.

Rialla shook her head. aDo you know how much those books were worth before he ruined them?a Tris snorted. aThey were never booksa"thereas no sign of ink on the paper. I suspect that he had them bound with blank pages then hollowed them out.a aI hadnat thought of that,a admitted Rialla, getting to her feet and looking around the room.

The rug she stood on was only slightly less valuable than that one in Terranas chambers. Trisas light clearly revealed the rich reds and golds of the elaborately woven patterns. The room was small, but it contained two more bookcases and a large desk.

aOver here,a said Tris, moving to the desk.

He ignored the ledgers that covered the desktop, and ran his hands over the locked drawers, stopping at the bottom one on the left side.

aThereas something powerful in this one,a he commented. He slipped a ring of keys out of his belt pouch and inserted a likely one into the lock.

aAre those clan keys? Where did you get those?a asked Rialla.

aI believe so; they were left as payment,a answered Tris.

The lock turned over, and he pulled the drawer open. Inside was a thick book with a silver clasp. Embossed on the expensive white leather was a symbol that Rialla knew well.

Tris glanced at her and then back at the book. aThatas the design he used for your tattoo.a aItas Winterseineas,a agreed Rialla. aBut is this a grimoire?a aIam not going to open it. From the feel of it, that book has enough magic in it to destroy this keep and half the surrounding countryside,a replied Tris briskly.

aItas magic and it has Winterseineas personal seal,a said Rialla. aThatas enough for me.a Tris took the book out, shut the drawer and locked it. He undid his belt and slipped the book under the loose tunic, shifting it until it sat in the hollow under his ribs. Once he had it placed to his satisfaction, he cinched the belt tightly around his waist. Under the heavy woodcraftsman fabric, Rialla could hardly tell that the book was there.

aCan you tell if there is anyone nearby?a Rialla relaxed for a moment and concentrated. aNo one, as long as Terran isnat there.a aWhat do you mean?a Tris raised an eyebrow.

aTerran could be listening from the other side of the door and Iad never know. For some reason my empathy canat detect him at all. However,a she added, aI suppose that we can chance it.a They made it down the circular stairway without incident. As they approached one of the stairs that would take them farther down, Rialla stopped Tris with a tug on the back of his tunic.

Theyave found Tamas, she told him, and instituted a search. Theyall block the stairways and search the lower levels first before they start up here. Rialla felt a cold knot of dread form in her stomach. She wanted out.

Then we need to find a window up here, said Tris.

Youare enjoying this! accused Rialla hotly.

He grinned unrepentantly at her and started back up the hall, leaving Rialla to scurry indignantly after him.

The first door that Tris tried opened into a guest bedroom, complete with window casements. Winterseine hadnat bothered with the expense of glazing them in, so when they folded the casement doors back, there were only two barriers to their escape from the keep: guards and gravity.

Rialla looked around cautiously, but no one was watching the back side of the keep. There was a good reason for this. The only windows on this side were on the third floor. Anyone stupid enough to jump out of one of them and onto the hardpacked dirt of the courtyard below would wait for the searchers.

Rialla peered cautiously down the ivy-covered walls. I donat know, Tris. It looks like a long way to the ground.

Donat fret, advised Tris, reaching out to touch a strand of ivy.

Rialla watched closely, but she couldnat see any difference in the plant after he touched it.

I want you to follow me. This will only support our weight if we climb straight down. Without giving her a chance to protest, he climbed out the window, twisting to get his shoulders through the narrow opening.

Looking at the fragile strands, Rialla felt some trepidationa"but anything capable of holding Tris was more than capable of holding her. She waited until he was well on his way before starting after him.

The ivy felt unnaturally stiff, providing easy handholds.

The edges of the leaves were sharp, as if they had been fabricated out of metal, and she gained a few cuts before she discovered how to reach through the leaves to the vine beneath. When she neared the ground, Tris caught her by the waist and set her aside. He touched the ivy again, returning the plants to their original state.

Rialla turned to look around nervously, but there was still no one observing this corner of the keep. She dropped the protection from her empathy to catch any hint that someone saw them, and hoped fervently that Tamas was far enough away that she wouldnat have any more contact with him.

Here now, said Tris, let me change your hair color to something less distinctive. The gatekeepers are going to be looking for a lone slave with red hair. With the number of slaves around here, they are not going to be suspicious of one walking out with a freeman.

Winterseine has been known to reward fine work with an older, less valuable slave, agreed Rialla. If you can add some gray to the brown it will look better.

He touched her hair for a moment then took his hands away. Done.

Without further ado, they strode casually around the keep and toward the gate in the surrounding wall. Tris stopped where he had been working on the door and picked up the heavy tool bag that rested nearby. No one challenged them until they reached the portcullis.

aHold,a called the older of the two men on the wall. aWhatas your purpose?a aIam Jord Woodcraftsman; the hold stores are low on cherry. This slave knows where there are some cherry trees big enough for making furniture after they are seasoned.a The guard frowned down at Rialla. aI donat recognize that one.a Tris nodded. aSheas a kitchen slave. Sheas been sent out after wood for the firesa"so she should know the trees nearby. If she doesnat, I daresay I can find them without her and sheall still serve my purposes.a He said the last with a leer.

The other men laughed and pulled the portcullis up high enough that Tris and Rialla could duck under it. Rialla led the way down an obviously well-worn trail into the woods.

NINE.