aJust because you slept with her is no sign that she is telling the truth,a snapped Winterseine impatiently.

aFather,a said Terran slowly, without the deference that Rialla was used to hearing from him, ajust because my magic works differently than yours does not make it weak. I can tell truth from falsehood.a His voice took on undercurrents that were meant for Winterseine alone. aIf you choose to forget my capabilities, that is your problem.a aI donat understand what you mean.a Winterseineas voice was full of innocent affront as false as a glass ruby.

aOf course not. Just remember that without me, your chances of become King of Darran are minimal at best. Especially if the dagger should arrive in Sianim.a Cold menace laced Terranas speech. Rialla kept her head lowered.

aI think that we understand each other,a commented Winterseine coolly, as he slipped the heavy leather collar around Riallaas neck again and tugged her to her feet. When he touched her, Rialla felt his fear . . . and hatred. aShall we head back?a THERE WAS NO horse for Rialla to ride; their packhorse was heavily laden with supplies. Instead, she walked briskly beside Winterseineas mount. The ground was rough, and the horse could travel no faster than she. It picked the easiest path through the brush and left Rialla to fight her way through as best she could.

That evening they stopped beside a stream and ate camp fare from the packs the spare horse carried. The stew was unseasoned, but might have tasted better without the tight knot in Riallaas stomach.

After theyad eaten, Terran filled a small earthenware bowl with water from the stream. He knelt beside the bowl and nicked his thumb with his knife, letting a few drops of blood spill into the bowl. With the bowl in his hands, he sat cross-legged with his eyes closed.

While he meditated or prayed, Rialla finished washing the dishes from dinner and repacked them. Winterseine tied Riallaas arms tightly behind her and attached her leash to a tree. He unrolled his bedroll and closed his eyes.

Rialla was too uncomfortable to sleep, so she laid her cheek against the rough bark of the tree and watched Terran without interest. The setting sun still gave enough light that she could see him clearly.

She shifted awkwardly, trying to ease the discomfort of her arms, and wished that Tris were around to untie her. She was familiar enough with the whip to know that Winterseineas blow had only raised a welt, but it was rubbing painfully against the tree.

A weird cry reverberated eerily through the darkness and was answered almost immediately from the other side of their camp. Rialla jerked reflexively against the ropes that held her helpless as yet a third Uriah sounded from somewhere just behind and to her left.

She stared intently at a moving shadow in the nearby bushes, gradually becoming aware of other forms that surrounded the camp. She realized shead been smelling them for a while, but had been too tired to realize it. Tris was right; they smelled like rotting corpses.

As she watched, they crept closer, mute now. This was a much larger group than the one she and Tris had found. She could count twenty easily, and suspected that there were more lurking in the shadows.

Winterseine had come to his feet at the first cry. He stood between Rialla and the small camp fire, so she saw him only as a shadowed figure that slowly pivoted until head looked all the way around.

Terran set the bowl aside and rose to his full height. He seemed relaxed and unworried. aItas all right,a he said. aThey have come because they know who I am.a When he spoke, the creatures quit moving. If Rialla hadnat been watching them before, she wouldnat have been able to pick out where the Uriah stood in the darkness.

aPoor things,a Terran commented in a conversational tone. aThe first Uriah were made before the Wizard Wars, and the black secrets of their making should have died with the last of the Great Ones. But Geoffrey aeaMagi had to play with the twisted magic once again. His perversion of magic was what awakened the old gods.a Terran shook his head. aThe purpose of having an aeaMagi, an Archmage, was to prevent such forbidden magic; obviously it hasnat worked.a Terran waved his hand vaguely at the Uriah. aThis is the reason, Father, that Altis must conquer the West. Magic is too powerful a force for humans to wield unchecked.a Rialla thought that Winterseineas silhouette stiffened, but she couldnat be certain.

The Uriah began to move again, closing in on the small camp. The horses shifted nervously and began tugging at the ropes that held thema"so did Rialla.

aPoor things,a said Terran again and held both hands over his head, palms facing outward. aListen!a His voice became that of the prophet of Altis, echoing oddly in the trees. At his first word the Uriah halted their slow advance. If her hands had been free, Rialla could have reached out and touched the one nearest to hera"not that she had any desire to do so.

aHear me, Altis, Lord of the Night. Release these thy children. Release them, Altis. They suffer for anotheras sin.a The Uriah began to make a whispering noise, over and over again. The hair on the back of Riallaas neck prickled as she listened closely to the nearest Uriah.

It spoke, but not in Darranian. In the Common tongue, it whispered, aplease,a over and over again. Rialla looked at it closely, and saw that it wore the remains of the uniform of one of the Sianim guard units. Shock rippled through her as she realized that it must have once been human.

Rialla was no magician, but even she felt the power in Terranas voice as he shouted, aRelease them, now!a Slowly at first, then all at once, the Uriah fell to lie on the ground. Rialla kept her gaze on the Uriah nearest her. As she watched, the thingas body twisted and changed until she was looking at the corpse of a human in a state of advanced decomposition.

It lay still where it fell, without breathing.

Winterseine looked around at the corpses and then said, aWeall have to move camp. I donat know about you, but I canat sleep with this smell.a Rialla stared at the dead body that lay beside her. Uriah were said to be virtually immune to magic, and Terran had just killed at least thirty of the thrice-cursed things.

She didnat know how strong Tris was, but she didnat think that any kind of magic, human or otherwise, was going to be able to defeat Winterseineas son. If she didnat escape before Tris returned, there would be a confrontation that she and her healer would lose.

TRIS COULDNaT USE the sylvan path to travel the whole way; the magic was draining and less effective as the yew and oak forest gave way to willow and birch. Still, in less than two days, he reached sight of Sianima"considerably faster than a human would have.

In the center of a large valley rose a steep-sided plateau with a single narrow, walled path leading upward to the city. The path was crowded at this time of the day, and Tris was forced to dawdle slowly behind a train of donkeys.

The noise from the city was deafening after the quiet forest. Tris followed the donkeys to the center of Sianim, where the markets were, then he tried to find someone with whom he could communicate. Living in Darran most of his life, he spoke Sylvan, Darranian and only a smattering of Common: a combination of gesture and slang that merchants had developed and the Sianim mercenaries had made their own. Head hoped to find someone who could speak Darranian, but he had to make do with his poor Common.

He gave up trying to find Laethas apartment, but the Lost Pig was easier. When three or four people pointed to one of the winding streets that Sianim was inflicted with, Tris started down it.

After a short walk, Tris found a building with heavy rusting chains attached to all four corners. As the large sign in front of the building had an orange pig rolling its eye slyly, Tris assumed that this was the place he was looking for.

He stepped inside, and almost retreated at the press of noisy people. On the far side of the room, a sultry woman slid through a doorway bearing a tray filled with brimming mugs. Surmising that the innkeeper would also be behind the doorway, Tris began to work his way through the room.

He was only partially through the tavern when someone caught at his sleeve. He spun around to see a man in leather armor pointing mutely to the far end of a long table.

Trisas gaze followed the gesture, to discover Laeth and Marri trying to push their way through the crowded pathway. Laeth was trying to say something, but the noise in the room prevented any sound from carrying even such a short distance.

When the two managed to make it to where Tris waited, he started back to the main door. Only when they were outside did anyone try to talk.

aTris, what are you doing here?a asked Laeth. aWhereas Rialla?a aSomewhere in a Darranian forest, I hope,a replied Tris wearily, rubbing the back of his neck. aI need to deliver these,a he slipped the books out of his tunic and pulled the dagger from the sheath he normally used to carry his own knife, ato the Spymaster, Ren, then I need to get back to Rialla. Can you help me find him?a aWhy didnat you bring Rialla with you?a queried Marri.

aWinterseine and his son were following us. Rialla thought that she could evade them until I could bring these here; after all the trouble we went to, it would have been a shame to have to return them.a Tris knew that it was overly easy to read his concern for Rialla in his voice, but he was too weary to disguise it.

aI could take the package to Ren,a offered Laeth. aThat would leave you free to return. If you can describe where you are, I can get some friends together and ride after you with reinforcements.a Tris was tempted, but shook his head. aNo. The journal I brought needs explanation. It would take me as long to explain it to you as hima"and I can make him believe me. If you can take me to Ren, Iall get this over with.a aRight,a said Laeth. aFollow me.a He led the way through the streets to a large building that was probably as old as the city. Centuries of minor additions had made the building look lopsided and disordered. The stone steps inside were worn with the weight of generations of feet. Laeth knocked briskly on a scratched wooden door.

aGo away!a ordered a voice from within firmly. aI filed the report yesterday.a Laeth looked at Tris and shrugged before opening the door and peering in. aItas only me,a he said with his head inside the door.

Tris trailed Laeth and Marri into the room. The enclosed space smelled musty, as if it hadnat received fresh air in a long time. Seated behind a desk too large for such a small room, a frail-looking man was running his fingers through his thinning hair.

A second man had been seated comfortably on a padded chair facing the desk, but when he saw a woman enter the room, he came to his feet. Tris knew that his eyes had widened, but head never seen a man dressed in such a mannera"not even among the more foppish Darranian nobles. The manas expensive leather boots were dyed a hideous shade of orange, contrasting with emerald-green velvet trousers trimmed in orange lace. The manas tunic was also mostly emerald-green, except for the long, flowing orange sleeves. His hair was curled in ringlets that descended to his shoulders in a cascade any woman would have been proud to claim.

aAh, what a pleasure to be interrupted by such a lovely visitor,a he said, stepping forward to kiss Marrias hand. aAllow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Kisrah.a Before anyone had a chance to respond, the man behind the desk, who Tris assumed was the Spymaster, came to his feet as well. aLaeth, I told you that I had someone scouting Winterseineas holdings looking for Rialla. I will tell you when I have news.a aI have news for you, sir,a answered Laeth, blithely ignoring the irritation in the Spymasteras voice, even as he deftly pulled Marri behind him and away from Lord Kisrah.

Tris narrowed his eyes at the human peacock. aLord Kisrah,a he said slowly, athe Archmage.a Kisrah bowed formally. aThe same.a Ren cleared his throat and took charge. aI am Ren,a he announced firmly. aThis young idiot is Laeth, sometime Darranian lordling and currently mercenary of Sianim.a Somehow Ren managed to make the second title the more imposing.

His voice softened as he continued, aWith him is Lady Marri, widow of Lord Karsten of Darran, and soon to be Laethas bride. Lord Kisrah has done us the courtesy of introducing himself, and I am not sure who you are, sir.a He directed the last toward Tris.

aI am Tris,a replied the healer. aSometime healer of Tallonwood, currently messenger for one Rialla, slave turned horse trainer turned spy. I have several things to deliver to the Spymaster of Sianim.a Tris handed Ren the books and pulled Laethas dagger from the boot sheath he normally used to carry his own knife. aThe dagger is the one used to kill Karsten. Rialla and I found it in Winterseineas keep.a Lord Kisrah gestured, and Ren gave him the dagger. The Archmage curled his fingers around the hilt and muttered a phrase. aWinterseine held the pommel when it last killeda"but I didnat know Lord Karsten. Iall have to have something of his to confirm he was the man who died. I have to confess, however, I am curious how you expect to get a Darranian court to believe the word of a magician.a aRialla was confident that Ren was capable of such a feat,a replied Tris briskly, abut we found something that might help. The larger book is Winterseineas grimoire, conveniently embossed with his seala"complete except for a few pages of vellum that slid out as we escaped.a Kisrah took the book Tris extended. As soon as he touched it, his casual interest became intense. He held the book for a moment then set it on Renas desk. aWhat did you do with those pages?a The indolent manner that had characterized him until that moment was gone. In its place was the powerful presence that belonged to the aeaMagi.

aThey were impregnated with magic to the extent that I was not sure they were safe to touch. When they fell out of the book, I destroyed them, rather than leave them for Winterseineas use.a aDestroyed them? How?a asked Lord Kisrah, his face white and shaken.

aWith magic, Lord Kisrah, how else?a Trisas eyebrows rose.

aAh, well,a said Ren, aat least they are not in Winterseineas hands. What is the small book?a aThat,a said Tris, ais the most interesting item we retrieved. Rialla says you are concerned about a prophet who is planning to take over our lands.a aThe book implicates my uncle?a said Laeth without surprise.

Tris shook his head. aItas the private journal of the Voice of Altis. You would know him better as Terran.a Laeth and Marri looked at Tris in astonishment; the others obviously didnat know who Terran was.

aMy cousin Terran?a asked Laeth incredulously.

aWinterseineas son,a said Ren.

Lord Kisrah stiffened. aWinterseineas son is not a mage. I was there at his testing.a aNo,a agreed Tris blandly, aTerran is not a mage, he is a prophet.a aWinterseineas using his magic to allow his son to declare himself a prophet.a Renas disbelief was obvious.

aNo,a said Tris again, aTerran is a prophet of Altisa"at least Rialla and I think so.a aGods,a swore Laeth in a soft tone.

aYes,a agreed Tris. aI think that youall find Terranas journal mosta"a He broke off and flinched as a searing pain touched his back.

Laeth gripped his shoulder. aWhatas wrong?a Tris shook his head grimly, reaching for Rialla through the bond between them; but he couldnat touch her mind. All that had reached him over the distance was the brief lash of pain.

aI have to get back,a he said. aRead the journal . . . and keep an open mind.a TRIS HAD REQUESTED a horse, knowing that it would be be faster to ride until he reached the forests. Laeth led him to the stable, and produced a sleek gray gelding.

Urgency replaced fatigue for the first hour that Tris rode, the gelding moving smoothly in a ground-eating trot. Sianim grew distant and was gradually replaced by the farmland that surrounded the city, which in turn gave way to rolling hills as Tris fretted about Rialla. As soon as the last of the farmland fences ended, he left the road.

Though the distance was too great for him to contact Rialla mentally, the bond they shared gave him a direction to follow. If he assumed that her pain meant that she was in Winterseineas hands, then it would take speed on his part to catch them before they returned to the slave traderas hold.

Tris wanted to catch them in the forest, where his powers were at their greatest, instead of the cold stone building that housed Terranas shrine to Altis. He suspected that Rialla was correct; Terran and Winterseine were too powerful to attack directly. However, the forest was his domain, and in the forest there were other methods of combat.

He rode on, until the horse hung its head in exhaustion and he was in little better shape. His connection with Rialla might allow him to locate her, but it required concentration; twice he had to correct his course when fatigue distracted him.

Reluctantly Tris decided that he would have to stop or risk losing his mount and his trail. The decision was made slightly easier when he concluded that, even if he managed to find Rialla, he would be too exhausted to do anything other than surrender out of hand.

RIALLA SHIFTED STIFFLY when Terran untied her hands. The discomfort from her bonds had kept her awake for most of the night. Her hands were numb, and her arms ached despite Terranas gentle chafing.

When she could move her hands, Terran handed her a cup of something hot and spicy that she didnat recognize. It must have had some medicinal property, as she felt considerably better by the time shead finished drinking it.

When the camp was broken and the horses saddled and packed, Winterseine untied her leash from the tree and secured it to a ring on his saddle.

It took a long time for Rialla to work out the awkwardness from having been tied up all night. The long chase, combined with lack of sleep, was wearing her down. Her weak leg protested the punishment that shead given it; after midday her scar began to burn from the abuse.

They finally worked through the worst of the underbrush and came to a clearing bisected by a shallow stream, and Winterseine pushed his horse into a trot. Rialla managed to follow for several paces, then her leg cramped. As she fought for balance, the leash around her neck snapped tight and she fell to the ground with punishing force.

Winterseine dragged her several lengths before stopping his horse, adding to the mounting number of bruises and scrapes that covered her. She coughed and choked from the force of the collar on her neck as she fought grimly to straighten her leg out, but the large muscle in her thigh kept it firmly pressed against her chest.

Terran dismounted and placed one knee on her shoulder and both hands on her knee. With his greater leverage he was able to straighten her leg, forcing the muscle to elongate. As her leg stretched out, he slid his knee down until it rested on her hip and began kneading the rigid muscle.

Rialla stared at his long-fingered hands working on her bare thigh and thought of another time they had done the same. She shuddered as revulsion swept through her; tired and in pain, she didnat have the strength to control her thoughts. She twisted violently to the right at the same time her abhorrence hit Terran with the force of a blow.

Terran flinched instinctively, loosing his hold on both her leg and shoulder. Rialla rolled away from him, crying out as her leg snapped back and the muscle cramped again. She twisted and fought, but she couldnat straighten her leg and keep the collar from choking her at the same time.

Winterseineas horse was used to leading slaves who might jerk or fight the leash. But this mad thing writhing on the ground was something else. It snorted uneasily, then reared and fought in earnest as Riallaas barriers dropped, and exposed the animal to her frenzy.

Terran drew his knife and sawed at the tough leather that bound Rialla to the frantic horse. Winterseine managed to keep the horse from bolting, but the leash wasnat long enough for safety. Both Rialla and Terran were within easy reach of the flashing hooves.

Terran had cut most of the way through the strap when a particularly violent tug from either Rialla or the horse snapped it the rest of the way. Prudently, Winterseine let the animal get some distance from Rialla before he tried to calm it down.

Half-strangled and blinded by panic and the matted hair in her face, Rialla fought tenaciously against any attempt on Terranas part to get anywhere near her. Coughing, she rolled on the ground, unable to run because she still couldnat extend her leg.

She was aware of a sharp sound, as if someone clapped his hands, and then she didnat hear anything at all.

PANIC AND PAIN woke Tris up from a sound sleep, and he came to his feet before he was fully awake. When he realized that it was Riallaas emotion he was feeling, he called to her, demanding answers, but it was useless.

He swore, once, then collected himself. He was still too far from the heart of the forest; the sylvan ways would be slower than riding.

He tightened the cinch on the saddle and mounted. She was too far from him for his arrival to make any difference to what had happened. It would take him better than half a day to reach hera"if she stayed where she was. He touched his calves to the grayas sides, and the gelding leapt gamely into a run.

FROM SOMEWHERE RIALLA heard her name being called. Something about the voice made her fight out of the darkness that succored her. Just as she was awake enough to respond, Tris quit calling her.

Her offending leg had subsided to a dull ache that was matched by one in her jaw. She assumed Terran had hit her to calm her down. Her throat ached from the slave collar, making it painful to swallow. Her cheek, shoulder and good leg were abraded from being dragged behind Winterseineas horse, but all things considered, she was in better shape than she deserved for acting like an idiot.

Rialla opened her eyes slowly and sat up, rubbing her sore chin. She couldnat have been out long, because Terran and Winterseine were both still trying to calm down Winterseineas horse. Terranas horse and the pack animal werenat in the clearing.

If she could trust her leg, she could sneak off into the forest and call Terranas mare to her. Mounted, she just might be able to get away. When she started to get to her feet, her thigh muscle cramped warningly, so she subsided. There would be a better time.

When Winterseineas horse stood still at last, foam lathered his flanks and chest, a testimony to the violence of his fight. The gelding held his head low, and his ribs heaved with the effort of breathing.

As soon as head gone over the horse to check for injury, Winterseine mounted. aIall go find your mare and the packhorse; you stay with the slave and see that she doesnat go anywhere.a Terran nodded his head and watched his father ride through the brush. Rialla could have told them that he was riding the wrong way, but she wasnat feeling particularly helpful just now.

When Winterseine was out of sight, Terran walked over to Rialla.

aAre you all right?a he asked, kneeling beside her.

He was too close, and Rialla stiffened slightly, but nodded. Terran started to say something else, but stopped abruptly. He turned her abraded cheek to the sun, where he could see in more clearly.

It occurred to Rialla that she wasnat feeling any pain from the scrapes now, just a warm tingle. She pulled her face out of his hand and looked down at her arm that should have been covered with an abrasion from shoulder to wrist. The wound was still there, but as she watched, it faded rapidly, until the only thing that marred her skin was dirt.

She stared dazedly at her arm, and tried to gather her scattered thoughts.

aHow are you doing that?a asked Terran with a touch of excitement in his voice.

Rialla blinked at him stupidly for a moment. aWhat?a aThis,a replied Terran, gripping her wrist and shaking it at her. aHow are you healing yourself?a aIam not.a She shook her head and pulled her arm back out of his grip. It wasnat something that a slave would do, she couldnat tolerate his touch. aI donat know whatas going on.a aFather says that youare an empath. What else are you?a Terran asked intensely, leaning forward. aThis is magic, but itas nothing Iave heard of anyone having the ability to do. What are you?a Rialla scooted back from him and shook her head, whispering, aI donat know what youare talking about.a She decided to take the offensive. After her performance when her leg cramped, Terran was bound to think that she was a few kernels shy of a full measure. So she let her voice become shrill as she continued, aI donat know what youare doing to me.a Rialla needed something to take his attention from her, so she used her gift to find his horse. The mare had stopped at a nearby patch of wheatgrass. Rialla didnat have to work hard to persuade the animal to return, because the little horse adored her rider. With scarcely any reluctance she left her snack and started back, the packhorse following her lead.

aIam not doing anything. Itas you. I can feel it, the healing magic in you.a There was conviction in his voice and a touch of wonder. aIave heard there are creatures that live in the Northern forests that can heal like that. Are you a shapeshifter?a Rialla looked at him incredulously. She knew quite well she had no magical abilities. Yet she could feel Terranas sincerity; he knew that she was healing herself. She knew that she wasnat.

Tris could heal, but she couldnat imagine he was stupid enough to do so without making sure than no one else was around. He wouldnat have lasted in Darran if he werenat careful about things like that.

The gray mare trotted unconcernedly into the clearing, followed by the packhorse. She whickered softly when she saw Terran, and thrust her nose against him, rubbing enthusiastically.

Without taking his eyes from Rialla, Terran reached up and rubbed the mareas face. aGood girl,a he crooned soothingly.

Rialla pulled her legs up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. She rested her face against her knees and closed her eyes, shutting Terran out. After a moment she felt him move away. He was only biding his time, but she was thankful anyway.

Tris? she called.

His reply, when it came, was faint, but steady. In it she could feel relief. Are you all right? What happened?

Iam fine. At least I think so. Tris, did you heal me a few minutes ago?

What? he asked. Before Rialla could tell him what had happened, she felt his sudden comprehension followed by a brief flash of guilt.

Itas all right, he said. Thereas nothing to worry about. Do you remember the bond that I formed between us to allow you to communicate with me?

Yes, she answered.

The healing is a result of that bonding.