What? She let him feel her exasperation at his inadequate explanation.

The magic I use is not like that of humans, he explained. Sometimes it requires little initiative to work.

She thought about the implications of what head said. Do you mean that some of your magic decided to heal a few scrapes and bruises in front of Terran, without any action from youa"and it could do it again and neither you nor I could do anything about it?

Some of her feelings must have made it through to Tris, because when he answered her it was with a strong burst of reassurance. I should have warned you that this would happen, but I didnat expect it quite so soon. I can control the healing; I wasnat aware I needed to.

You knew that this would happen? What do you mean? What else should I expect? Rialla didnat know exactly what she was feelinga"some combination of anger and bewilderment.

Again she felt a touch of guilt from Tris. I should have told you before. Iam sorry. I suspect that now is not the time to go into it, but when we get through with this mess, Iall sit down and explain whatas been going on.

Rialla opened her eyes to see Terran watching her intently. She reburied her face in her knees and said, This had better be quite an explanation.

Without looking at Terran again, Rialla sat back and began to work her weak leg. Trisas magic had taken care of her cramping muscle, but she needed to occupy herself with something in the face of Terranas steady regard. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew she was communicating with someone.

Winterseine finally returned, looking harried. When he saw that the horses had returned on their own, he didnat look any happier.

aStupid beasts,a he commented sourly, swinging off his horse with athletic grace. aWe might as well spend the night here. Thereas a storm coming in, and we wonat make the keep before nightfall.a Rialla hadnat realized that they were so close.

While Terran occupied himself with lighting a fire and starting another traveleras stew from dried meat, Winterseine unpacked the horses and staked them out nearby.

Since no one seemed to be paying particular attention to her, Rialla decided to make use of the creek. She took off her shoes before walking into the stream, clothes and all.

Shuddering at the cold, she sat down in the knee-high water and scrubbed off the dirt and sweat shead acquired over the days of frantic travel through the forest. By the time she was finished, she was numb with cold, but blessedly clean. It was still warm enough out that her clothes should dry before she had to sleep in thema"although judging by the black clouds overhead, it would probably rain tonight anyway.

She got out and began squeezing the water from her tunic as best she could without disrobing. She suspected the fabric was permanently stained, but at least it didnat stink anymore.

aRialla.a Warily, she turned to look at Terran where he stood near the small camp fire. Winterseine was some distance away, picketing the horses.

aThereas some wild onion to your left. Would you pick it for me? If you see anything else thatall add some flavor to the stew, get it as well.a Relieved, Rialla knelt to do as he asked. The onion was easy enough to see, once it had been pointed out to her. She wasnat fond of it, but she harvested it until she had a double handful. She looked around for anything else that looked edible and noticed a familiar plant growing in the shade of a small bush.

Sliding over to it, she examined it carefully. It looked like the plant Tris had called whitecowl. Whitecowl, she remembered, was a sleeping draft. She hesitated, but the thought of arriving at Winterseineas hold tomorrow gave her courage.

Rialla didnat know how much to use, so she gathered all the leaves from the plant. The leaves would be obvious next to the onions, but she found some dandelions nearby. Torn off the plant, the two leaves looked similar enough that Rialla couldnat tell the difference.

She took all of the plants to the stream and washed them off carefully before taking them to the pot of stew and dumping them in. Terran thanked her with a nod and continued stirring.

Rialla moved as far away as she dared before finding a likely stump. She sat down and then finger-combed her hair until she could braid it back out of her face. She didnat have anything to tie it with, but hoped it would be a while before it came undone again.

The dampness of her clothes made it seem colder than it was; the wind was stirring with the oncoming storm. However, the shiver that caused her to wrap her arms around herself was caused by anxiety more than cold. She could only hope that the whitecowl didnat do anything distinctive when it was boileda"like turn red and stink.

The sky was darkening rapidly with evening and signs of the summer storm. By the time Terran called them over to eat, it was nearly dark and the wind had picked up speed.

Rialla examined the stew carefully, but she couldnat see anything wrong with it. She smelled it unobtrusively, but it only smelled like wild onions and salted meat. The deepening shadows and Riallaas distant perch made it easy for her to pretend to eat while surreptitiously dumping the stew to the ground.

When everyone was through eating, Rialla gathered the dishes and the pot and carried them to the stream to wash. She took her time, hoping that the others would fall asleep before Winterseine tied her up for the night.

When she turned back to the fire, the small hope that had been steadily growing in her dissipated. Clearly outlined against the fire, Winterseine sat comfortably on a large rock, tossing his knife hilt over blade into the air, then catching it and sending it spinning again. In the distance Rialla heard a rumble of thunder.

Rialla walked slowly to the packs that Winterseine had removed from the horses and put the bowls and the pot away. Hoping nothing showed in her face, she returned to the fire.

aSlave girl,a purred Winterseine softly.

She raised her eyes to him in mute question, distrusting the satisfaction in his voice.

aMagicians use a lot of herbs in their spells. Did you know that?a He smiled at her.

Riallaas stomach knotted, but she kept her face blank as she shook her head.

aWhitecowl has a distinctive taste, almost minty. The onions were a nice touch. I almost didnat catch the flavor of the whitecowl in time. Terran didnat.a Winterseine nodded across the fire.

Rialla looked where head indicated and saw for the first time that Terran was lying on his sidea"clearly asleep.

aBut then heas not a magician. I need to thank you, slave girl.a Winterseineas voice drew her attention back to him. aI have been trying for some time to get Terran in just such a position. My poor Tamas is caught up in this Altis cult my son started; I knew it was useless to ask him to poison Terran as he did my nephew Karsten.a Up went the knife in a glittering twisting motion, then back to rest in the deft hands of the magician. Lightning cracked across the sky as the evening storm grew nearer.

aI am afraid that Terran has forgotten that others have ambitions as well,a continued Winterseine. aHe is so caught up in his own myth he forgets more mundane issues.a He shook his head sadly. aHe was angry that I killed Karsten. He hoped I would give up when the swamp beast failed.a aBut the diversion worked, and Karsten died,a commented Rialla.

Winterseine laughed. aIt was supposed to kill Karsten, not act as a diversion. I had a geas laid upon ita"but the geas couldnat force it away from an empath. Somehow Terran learned of my plans. I didnat realize why he insisted on bringing a half-trained slave to Karstenas celebrationa"not until the creature attacked you that night. She was an empath too. After she killed herself, Terran must have remembered that you used to be an empath and decided to use you to break the geas instead.a Winterseineas voice had gotten quieter with the force of his rage. aHe thought that I would not kill if I had to do it with my own hands. Foolish of him. How does he think that my father died . . . a hunting accident?a Winterseine was talking more to himself than to Rialla. She hoped that he would get distracted enough for her to run. In the darkness she could hide from him for a long time.

aAfter Terran dies,a continued Winterseine thoughtfully, aI think I shall send Tamas to Sianim to poison my nephew Laeth. Lord Jarroh might also be a problem, but one of his servants has done jobs for me beforea"another one will be no trouble.a Winterseine smiled with pleasure, and a chill crept up Riallaas spine. She was too far away to touch the madness she had felt lurking underneath his surface, but she could see it clearly in the eyes of the man who talked so casually about murdering his own son.

aCerric, our little-boy king, doesnat have any legitimate male heirs. After ten years or so of acting as his regent, I will have accustomed Darran to my rule, and when Cerric dies I will be the logical choice to replace hima"after all, my bloodlines are tied with the royal house. But perhaps it would be better if Cerric just goes mad, and needs to be locked up for life; Iall take things as they come.a Winterseine paused and held the knife still for a moment before sending it spinning into the dirt near Terranas head. It landed with a thump, burying itself halfway up the blade in the dirt. He shifted his gaze from his sleeping son to Rialla. She took an involuntary step back and he smiled again, slipping a pouch off his belt.

aI was worried about killing Terran. I trust that youave heard the stories he tells about the coming of the old gods?a He paused to give her time to answer, but seemed unconcerned about her lack of response.

aUnfortunately, the stories are true. Terran does seem to have some sort of tie with the god Altis. When it first began, I thought that it would be good to have my son with so much power.a Winterseine shook his head. aBut I canat let him do as he intends. I spent the most productive years of my life bowing to the aeaMagi. When he died, I stole the key to the Master Spells so that I would not have to do that againa"now I have to bow to Terranas control. Terranas!a Winterseine spat the name out with outrage, but regained control of himself and said calmly, aI have discovered that although Altis grants my son power, he does not always watch over him. This. . .a Winterseine showed Rialla a silver ring that he wore, the one she and Tris had found in a hollow book while they were searching the study. aThis allows me to know when my son is watched by his god. As at this moment he is not.

aIf I were to kill Terran myself, as I did Karsten, Altis would destroy mea"finding who wielded the knife or potion would be childas play even to a hedgewitch. But I have another way.a As he spoke, Winterseine opened the pouch and removed four neat bundles of cloth. These he unfolded. There was something inside each bundle, but the darkness kept Rialla from seeing exactly what it was. Winterseine combined the substances until he held only one cloth square in his hand.

aI will, of course, be devastated at the death of my only son. It seems that we went out chasing a runaway slave and she knifed him while he slepta"I warned him that she was subject to such fits. I, his grieving father, destroyed the slavea"but vengeance is no substitute for a lost child.a His voice was sad, belied by the wide smile on his face. He said something in a language that Rialla didnat understand and then blew the contents of his cloth in her direction.

aTake the knife, and kill him with it.a Winterseineas tone was cold and harsh, demanding instant response.

Rialla took a step toward Terran, then stopped. She bit her lip in an effort to resist Winterseineas command.

aTake the knife and kill Terran with it,a repeated Winterseine, adding a hand gesture.

Two steps more, and her hand closed firmly on the warm haft of the knife. It felt heavy in her hand, as if it weighed more than any knife should. She tried to drop it, but her fingers merely tightened their grip.

aKill him.a She couldnat see Winterseine now; her gaze was focused on Terranas face, but she felt the demand and raised her knife. Hoping that Tris was near enough to hear, she called out to him silently.

Rialla? In the time it took her to kneel beside Terran, Tris was able to grasp what was happening and . . . Rialla felt a surge of strength.

She stumbled to her feet and took a step back from the sleeping prophet. She tossed the knife into the fire and turned to see Winterseine rush to his feet, his face a mask of rage.

aWho are you, slave girl?a Unknowingly, he paraphrased his sonas question from early that day.

She gave him a gentle smile. aI am Rialla, horse trainer of Sianim.a

ELEVEN.

aA horse trainer?a questioned Winterseine, smiling. aWell, who would have thought it? Leath brought a Sianim spy with him to his brotheras castle.a aAs you are contemplating the murder of your son, I donat think you have the purity of soul to pass judgment,a commented Rialla dryly as the rain began to fall.

aAh, my dear,a Winterseine said, shaking his head sadly as he picked up a nearby stick and used it to knock the knife out of the fire. aFamilial elimination is an old Darranian art form. Spying, on the other hand, is a betrayal that is much more difficult to overlook. Ah well, with you dead, there is no way to prove Laethas espionage activitiesa"and I need you dead.a As he spoke, he made a faint motion with his hand and the compulsion to pick up the knife returned.

With Tris to strengthen her, Rialla didnat even sway. Winterseineas lips tightened with annoyance. aWhen did you become a magician, slave?a The power that Tris had poured into Rialla to let her escape Winterseineas spell was as effective as a druga"and as dangerous. Even as she warned herself to be cautious, a smile stretched its way across her face and she heard herself answer, aAs I said earlier, though perhaps you did not hear, I am not a slave. I have not been one for a very long time.a She touched her cheek with her hand. With magic-heightened senses she could feel the scar where shead sliced her cheek, despite Trisas spell. Almost without thought, she strove to dismiss the magic that marked her as Winterseineas possession.

Lightning illuminated the dark forest momentarily, followed soon after by the reverberation of its accompanying thunder.

AS SOON AS Rialla sought his help resisting Winterseineas spell, Tris slid off the horse. He pulled the bridle and saddle off, setting the animal free to go or stay as it would.

He knew he wasnat going to find Rialla in time to help her directly; the bond would have to serve them. He wasnat sure how much he could help her over such a distance, but there was green magic in the storm that had awakened in the night. Tris drew it to him ruthlessly, ignoring the rains that began to pour from the heavens.

He thought only to keep Rialla out of Winterseineas control; he hadnat considered the possibility that she could use the magic that he gave her. When she began to dispel his illusion, Tris stepped in delicately to guide her manipulation.

This way, he said. It doesnat waste so much magic.

RIALLA ACCEPTED HIS help gratefully. The kidskin fell into her hand, the shadow of the tattoo fading away, but Trisas magic, under her control, had chosen to do more than that. Under her fingers her cheek was smooth, without scar or blemish. Her smile widened as she met Winterseineas gaze fully.

aIam neither slave nor magician.a She took a step closer and gripped his left hand firmly in her right. aHave you forgotten? I am an empath.a The unexpectedness of her move kept Winterseine momentarily motionless, and then it was too late. Rialla caught him in a maelstrom of emotion.

This time there was no room full of people for her to draw upon, only Winterseine himself. She ignored her instinctive revulsion and sought the faint trails of destructive emotion that he kept hidden from himself in the far recesses of his mind. She ignored the rage that had more than a touch of insanity in it: it would merely strengthen him. She found instead all the fears that had been growing since his son had discovered that the god of night still lived.

She took his fear, strengthened it with doubt, and pulled it closer to his conscious mind . . .

Winterseine ripped himself free of her hold. She could see the sweat that stained his shirt in the light of the fire.

aBitch,a he said. His left arm, the one shead touched, hung limply at his sidea"a reflex only; she had done him no physical harm.

He motioned sharply with his right hand. This time the hand motion was no arcane move. She saw the flash of silver and dodged to the side.

Rialla had trained almost obsessively at Sianim, struggling to rebuild her confidence. The knife Winterseine had produced from a hidden sheath on his arm merely slipped across the skin of her upper arm before landing in the dirt behind her.

Resting her weight lightly on the balls of her feet, she flexed her knees slightly, looking for the opening that would allow her to touch him again. Not over his clothinga"that would diminish the effect; she needed to touch him skin to skin.

Already the terror that shead pulled to the surface of Winterseineas thoughts was receding as the slave master replaced it with rage. Though she couldnat feel his anger, she could see it in his face.

Careful, warned Tris without disturbing her concentration. Heas getting ready for something. Can you feel the magic heas amassing?

Winterseine smiled and stretched his right hand toward her. He made a grasping motion, and Rialla felt pain explode in her chest. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath that wouldnat come. Trisas warmth spread slowly across her chest, and with it the ability to breathe, though the incapacitating pain remained.

Rain began to fall, pounding the ground with the force of its descent.

Winterseine had stepped closer. Rialla rolled, extending her arm; she touched his boot for an instant before he stepped away. In that moment she took the ache in her chest, and Trisas empathetic pain, and thrust them at Winterseine. Even through the heavy leather, the contact broke his concentration and Riallaas agony faded.

Rialla rolled to her feet, panting with the triple effect of her own pain, Winterseineas and Trisas. The hurt faded rapidly. Without Winterseineas magic to interfere, Tris quickly repaired the slight damage that had been done.

aThere is magic in you,a accused Winterseine. aI felt it.a In the few naked moments she had touched Winterseine, shead discovered the fear that haunted him. The moment had come to take advantage of it.

Rialla shook her head and then slanted a glance at Terran, ensuring that the slave master saw the adoring expression with which she regarded his son. In a soft voice she said, aNo. It is in him.a A touch of fear crept back into Winterseineas face. aYou only slept with him. Heas slept with many women.a There was defensiveness in his voice.

Rialla remembered then that Winterseine had objected to his sonas relations with an empath. She smiled slowly, to make him nervous. aThey werenat like me.a aIf you are so ensorcelled, why did you send him to sleep?a Rialla noticed that he wasnat paying as much attention to what she was doing, and she inched herself closer to him. She shook her head. aHe is not like you. He would have objected to your death.a She amplified his fears with words instead of empathy. aHe knows it is the best thing to do, but he is too honorable. It is unfortunate that you didnat eat that stew. Your death at my hands would have been much less painful than the one that Altis has planned if I failed my task.a For an instant Winterseineas fears caused him to freeze. In that moment Rialla pounced. With a move she had practiced countless times, she gripped his wrist and twisted, locking his elbow. Stepping to the side, she placed her free hand on his shoulder blade, pushing him forward and down. When she knocked his feet away, she held him pinned face down in the mud with her foot on his shoulder and his arm twisted painfully behind him.

Wearily, she turned her face into her shoulder to wipe away the sweat and rain so she could see.

Tris, she said, youall have to break the connection that binds us together. If you donat, youall get caught up in the backlash. I canat protect both of us.

Rialla! he said urgently, but she pushed him away.

Assuming Tris would heed her warning, Rialla turned to Winterseine. Head quit struggling as soon as it became obvious that the only thing he could accomplish was dislocating his shoulder. Riallaas hand was on his bare wrist.

She began with his fears, the ones that were readily apparent. Winterseine would know what she was trying; his mind was disciplined, orderly. Only the touch of insanitya"the rage fueled by the fear that his son was controlling hima"gave her the means to defeat him.

She tried to ignore the stray thoughts that crept in; emotions were her weapons. She found his first fears: his son emerging from his room, white and shaken, glowing with power . . . the first time Terran stood up to his father and Winterseine backed down, knowing without a doubt that in a power struggle the son was stronger . . . and presented those feelings to Winterseine. Her own heartbeat picked up in time with his. These were the fears spawned by his memories; because she used his own emotions, Rialla couldnat step away from them as she had managed to when shead killed the empathic feeder the night Karsten died.

Rialla took his reaction to the old thoughts and reinforced them, driving him deeper into his own nightmare. She reached further, for older hurts and uncertainties. She reached the boy he had been, vulnerable to taunts and shame, and presented those voices to him again.

Only when she heard him cry out did she fan the flames of his rage. Earlier his anger had been a focused flame, protecting him from the fear; with Riallaas intervention it became an overwhelming wave, drowning out coherent thought.

It wasnat enough.

She added her own terror, the memory of the battle with the swamp creature, the horror of becoming a slave again. She reached deeper and found the terror of being helpless at the mercy of ruthless captors, the sick fear of being beaten, knowing just how much it was going to hurt . . . deep, soul-eating sorrow of living alone among strangers with no family bonds, and no chance of it changing . . . Some part of Rialla knew that the last thought wasnat hers or Winterseineas, but she was too preoccupied with what she was doing to search out where it came from. Even as she worked to project her emotions, she felt Winterseine fighting for control.

If she didnat take Winterseine out now, he would kill her, but it wouldnat stop there. Tris would hunt Winterseine down, and she was afraid that the healer wouldnat stand a chance against Winterseineas magic.

Shuddering, she reached into herself for the small place she kept hidden for fear of her sanity. It was here that the emotions and last thoughts of her family dwelt with the death of Jarrohas child-slave and a hundred others. She drew the veil of shadow aside, pulling a thread of the tangled horror and thrusting it at him viciously. She struggled to keep aloof; knowing what was to come allowed her to deal with the pain and fear faster than Winterseine could.

She fed her horrors to him one by one, and slowly she could feel Winterseine weakening. She had to break him and get away from the campsite before Terran woke up.

Momentarily distracted by her fears, she reached for one last memory, searching deep.

This time she lost the small thread of calm that allowed her to maintain the distance from the pain, and became tangled in the morass of emotion. It wasnat until she fought her way through that she realized why it had been so hard to maintain her distance.

Alone, even among his own kind. Set apart both by his refusal to let fear dominate his actions and by the kind of ability that had been dying from his race for a long time. Another man might not have been banished for saving the human child, but he was different, with no one to speak for him.

Rialla was caught up in Trisas memory.

Frantically, she fought to free herself of it and the others that were beginning to seep in through the breach of her defenses; she needed to be detached or she would be swallowed in the tempest shead created in Winterseineas mind. To do that she had to find Tris and get him out.

At that instant, when the last of her bastions against pain and fear were failing, Winterseine lost his battle. The growing miasma of terror and anguish that head been holding back hit Rialla with the force of a blow.

Almost without thought, she abandoned her efforts to rebuild her shields and tried to protect Tris long enough so that he could leave her. Apparently he knew what she was doing, because just before she lost herself in the storm of emotion, his words echoed to her.

Sorry, love. His mental voice was ragged with the same pain that was ripping through her. I tried to tell you earlier; I canat leave you anymore.