She hadnat been thinking, just staring into the shadows in the corner of the room; Laethas voice, like the early morning light streaming through the windows, took her by surprise. She must have been sitting there for longer than she realized.

Laeth managed to sit up, but he closed his eyes again as he rubbed his face to bring himself awake. He was not at his best in the morning.

Rialla felt her lips quirk in an involuntary smile at the familiar sight. Answering his question rid her of the smile soon enough. aI did sleep in the quarters, at least part of the night.a He cast her a sharp look that belied his sluggishness and asked, aWhat happened?a aThere was a new slave in the compound last night: an Easterner. This morning she killed herself with an eating knife. I thought that it would be better if I werenat there when her body is discovereda"no sense in attracting attention.a Rialla fingered the now-familiar needlepoint pattern on the back of the sofa.

She could feel Laethas steady gaze, as he waited patiently for her to continue. She kept her gaze on her hands and added briefly, aEspecially as her owner is the man who owned me before I ran.a Laeth drew in a breath of surprise. aThe slave trainer? Youare certain?a Rialla nodded, without looking up. aI didnat see him, but I heard his voice. Itas not something I am likely to mistake, but I checked her tattoo. She too bore his mark.a aWell, then,a said Laeth with satisfaction, aI suppose I need to think of several obnoxious ways of refusing to return his slave.a Rialla looked at him then, and shot him a grin. aI wasnat worried that you were going to turn me over to him.a aNo?a he said, his tone serious. aThen what are you worrying about?a Rialla shrugged. aIam not.a At his snort she smiled faintly. aI suppose I am. I wasnat prepared to meet him again . . . and the girlas death was particularly unpleasant. An eating knife is not the way that I would choose.a Rialla looked down again and swallowed. At least the Easterner had found the courage to make the choice.

Rialla remembered staring at a sharp little dagger that someone had left carelessly sitting on an eating bench. It wouldnat have made much of a weapon, but she remembered considering using it to take her own lifea"shead been too much of a coward. The only other time shead come close to suicide was just after shead escaped, when she discovered she feared freedom more than slavery.

aRialla.a Laethas tone was gentle, and she knew that it wasnat the first time that head called her name. aWhat was your owneras name?a aIsslic, but I donat know his family namea"slave trainers donat often use their full names.a Laeth nodded. aEspecially if heas well enough born to receive an invitation here. Isslicas a common name; I can think of three or four men who answer to it.a aIf it is his real name at all,a added Rialla with a shrug. aI did notice something that might be worth mentioning to Ren, although itas mostly speculation.a aWhat is it?a aMy former owner liked to travel to find the slaves he trained. He preferred to take them himself rather than wait until an untrained slave came to auction. He contended that most of them had already acquired too many bad habits by that time.a Rialla could feel her face relaxing until there was no more emotion in it than in her voice. aSo if he had, say, a slave from Southwood, he probably went to Southwood to get her.a aTurn around, so I can get out of bed,a ordered Laeth briskly.

aModesty?a she teased, feeling herself begin to relax for the first time since shead heard her old masteras voice in the cellar.

aI thought to protect your sensibilities. If you want to see me unclothed, by all means watch,a he retorted, abut I canat think without my boots on.a Rialla laughed and faced the wall while he dressed.

aSo what youare saying,a said Laeth finally, ais that if the girl you saw was from the East then the slave trainer went to the East to get her.a Rialla nodded. aYes.a She paused and looked at Laeth, who was now fully dressed. aDid Ren tell you about what is happening in the East? That he thinks the leader of the Easterners is a magic user trained in the West?a Laeth nodded.

aThough my master was a Darranian, he was also a trained mage.a Briefly Rialla recalled the screams of her slain kinfolks. aI am no judge of such matters, but I was told that head trained with the last Archmagea"certainly an indication that he had some ability. The slave who killed herself was from the East. She thought that she was going to serve the Voice of Altis.a Rialla rose to her feet. Pacing restlessly around the room, she continued with the story that she had pieced together from the fragments of her dreams while shead waited for Laeth to wake up. aShe knew that such service would include concubinage, but she didnat realize that it would entail slavery in a foreign land. She believed that the man who enslaved her was the Voice of Altis.a Laeth sat on the sofa that Rialla had abandoned, relaxing bonelessly on the hard cushioned seat. aYou think that the man who used to own you is the Voice of Altis?a Rialla shrugged. aI donat know. I wouldnat have thought that he had the charisma for demagoguery. He was not the sort of man who could sway a crowd. Though his personal servants were obedient, I donat think that any of them were particularly loyal to him.a aMagic?a questioned Laeth.

Rialla shrugged. aYou know as much as I do. Iave heard rumors that the last aeaMagi had such a spell, but you know how that is. There are rumors about magicians and their spells all the time. What I know is that the slave was convinced that her master was the Voice of Altis.a Laeth gave her a thoughtful look and then said, aYou must have had quite a long conversation with this Eastern slave.a aActually,a Rialla replied, with a tired smile, ashe practically forced it down my throat while I was sleeping. She was an empath, tooa"maybe stronger than I was.a aI thought that empaths were supposed to be rare,a complained Laeth, throwing one hand across his brow in the best tradition of court theater.

Rialla gave him a sympathetic look. aWe are. Sheas the first one Iave ever met.a She walked to the shuttered windows, saying, aWhat surprised me most, I think, is that she died still believing the man who enslaved her was the Voice of Altis. I would think that an empath as strong as she was could have told that he was lying.a aIs it significant that you and this Easterner are both empaths?a asked Laeth seriously.

Rialla thought about his question before answering slowly, aI donat think so. Iam not sure that my master ever knew I was an empath. I tried to keep it hidden at firsta"then I lost most of my ability soon after he acquired me.a She drew a deep breath and switched to the point that she had been aiming at. aLaeth, if he is the Voice of Altis, he has good reason to want to stop an alliance between Darran and Reth. He could do that by killing your brother.a Laeth nodded. aI know. But it sounds as if he just arrived last night, after the attempt on Karsten.a aIf heas got the kind of connections that would get him invited here, he could have the influence necessary to arrange an attempt on Karsten.a Recalling the poisoning attempt brought another memory to the surface; Rialla snapped her fingers. aI forgot to ask you last night, what do you know about Tris, the local healer?a aYou mean besides the fact that he likes the Darranian aristocracy about as much as you do?a Laeth grinned at her but continued more soberly, aHe showed up here sometime after I left. I never met him before last night, but I have heard a lot about him. If you believe even half of what he is credited with, he has the godsa own power over death. After the way he managed to keep Karsten alive, I might almost believe it.a aHe stopped me and offered to help us,a said Rialla.

aYou didnat tell him about what weare doing here?a asked Laeth incredulously.

She gave him an insulted look. aOf course not. He was waiting near the stairs to see how hard you hit mea"at least I think that was what he was doing. When he saw that you hadnat done any damage at all, he got curious and started to ask questions. I told him who you were; he told me to ask him for help if we need it. I thought that you must know him for your name to spark such a response.a Laeth frowned, then shook his head. aNo. He didnat strike me as familiar when I saw him last night; I have a good memory for faces. Heas supposed to be a relative of one of the villagers, but he certainly doesnat look Darranian.a Rialla thought about her impression of the man. aI think he might be a mage as well. He acted rather oddly, as if he were working a spell.a aFirst empaths and now mages,a grumbled Laeth, without any true distress. He rubbed a thoughtful hand through his hair. aWhere do you think that he fits into all of this?a She tilted her head in consideration. aI donat know, who can understand magesa"or healers either for that matter? He wasnat faking his concern when he was checking my face for bruises. I canat see him poisoning Lord Karsten and then saving him at the last minute, unless heas trying to get something from Karsten. If that were the case, wouldnat he have been more courteous when he was here?a She sighed. aI doubt he is working against us, but I canat fathom why he would be supporting usa"even if he knew what weare doing here.

aUh, Rialla, sweetheart,a interjected Laeth mildly, with a twinkle in his eye. aHave you looked in a mirror recently?a Rialla snorted at him, much in the manner of her beloved horses. aHe offered his help when he found out who you were. It had nothing to do with me.a She opened the window shutters and said, aIad better get down to the kitchens and bring up breakfast before itas all gone.a She ducked into the small closet that served as a dressing room, grabbed a clean tunic and put it on, along with the blank face that went with it.

The halls were quiet; most of the aristocracy had spent a late night dancing and wouldnat rise for a few more hours. They were more open while they slept, and Rialla caught a stray emotion here and there as she walked, far more than she usually could. Tension coiled in her, and she stopped in the empty corridor. Belatedly she realized that shead been receiving scattered impressions since last nighta"as if the other empathas death had ripped apart some of the scarring that hindered her gifts.

With skills grown rusty with disuse, Rialla managed to raise a shield in her mind against the fragments of emotions that touched her. She could remove the protection if she chose, and explore the talent that was returning to hera"but she wasnat sure that she wanted to do so.

She would never have thought she would be as frightened by the threat of her talentas return as she had been by its loss. Rialla swallowed and began walking, maintaining her outward serenity with an effort.

RIALLA BROUGHT LAETH breakfast and helped him into the gaudy full court dress. When he left, she set about cleaning the suite. Keeping busy kept her from terrorizing herself with thoughts of her former master. Energetically she folded clothes and hunted out the dark corners that tended to collect shoes and miscellaneous small items, so they wouldnat be left behind when they packed.

When she had done all she could do to their rooms, she sat cross-legged on the bed and dropped the barrier shead imposed on her gift. With that done, she made herself relax and listen to the feelings passing invisibly through the stone and wood of the keep.

Since she first realized that the old scars that had shielded her empathy had been disturbed, she had felt exposed and vulnerable. That could not be allowed. Sitting on Laethas bed with her empathy working better than it had since shead been enslaved, part of her waited for the return of the pain that had destroyed her ability. By the time shead finished with the exercise, her tunic was soaked in sweat, and she stank like old fear.

With disgust, she washed off with the water left in the basin by the bed and changed into a fresh tunic. Shead just pulled the end of the tunic over her hips when Laeth burst into the room to change for lunch.

He took one look at her and said, aAre you all right?a Rialla nodded. Being Laeth, bless him, he didnat push her.

She helped him don his riding jacket for the scheduled hunt. Darranians changed their clothes five or six times a day, and the riding jacket was particularly ridiculous. It was cut so close that Laeth couldnat put it on alone, and once on it restricted his mobility severely. Just the thing to wear while riding spirited horses through fields and over fences at high speeds.

Laeth was so busy replying to her snide comments on Darranian fashions that he forgot his riding whip when he left the room, with an exaggerated swagger that left Rialla snickering. The whip wasnat necessary as far as the horse was concerned, but fashion dictated it be carried.

Rather than make him come all the way back to the room, Rialla snatched it up and trotted down the stairs to the entrance hall, where the riders would all gather and talk before they got on the horses.

Rialla kept her slave face on with an effort as she slid discreetly among the guests. She probably shouldnat have given Laeth such a bad timea"most of the men were wearing coats that fit even tighter than Laethas.

It took her two trips through the crowded room before she heard his voice. She came upon him and slipped the whip quietly into his hand without interrupting his conversation.

She was careful to keep her gaze down so she lacked warning when a familiar hand wrapped itself around the back of her neck and the voice of her former master said, aWhere on earth did you manage to find this one, Laeth? I have been looking for her for years.a A thumb under her chin forced her gaze from the floor. He was taller than Laeth and stockier, though even after seven years it was muscle that filled the burgundy jacket he wore. His hair was still dark brown and tied neatly in a queue. The only sign of the passing years was the silvering of his narrow mustache.

aShe was yours, Uncle?a Laethas voice was carefully neutral, though Rialla couldnat see his face.

Uncle! She remembered the affection in Laethas voice when he spoke of his uncle, Lord Winterseine. It would seem that her former master had high connections indeed.

Rialla kept her body relaxed, and focused her eyes somewhere past her old masteras face. She took some comfort in knowing that her terror wouldnat be immediately obvious. His hand almost touched her tattooed cheek. The spymasteras mage had warned her that the illusion of the tattoo was visual only. If he slid his hand up farther he would be able to feel the scars.

The slave trainer released her neck, sliding his hand intimately to her shoulder, and Rialla fought back a sigh of relief. aYes,a he said. aShe was a dancer in a small establishment that I own in Kentar. I trained her myself. Itas been six or seven years since she escaped.a He smiled and his voice took on a softness that she knew too well. aI believe that she killed the guard when she did. It will be good to have her back. She is a very talented dancer.a aWhy, Uncle Iss, I didnat know you trained slaves.a Laethas tone bordered on insulting.

aI train my own horses too,a his uncle replied. aI find the ones that others train pick up bad habits. It will take time to retrain her.a Laeth ran a hand casually down her back in a move as possessive as his uncleas hand on her shoulder. aI picked her up in the Alliance, near the sea, when I was guarding a merchant train across the wastes.a There was just the right touch of amusement in Laethas voice. It would seem obvious that he was more interested in the abhorrence his uncle would feel at having a member of his family acting in such a menial capacity than in any claim that his uncle would have on his slave.

He continued in the same vein. aShe was a gift for saving the merchantas son after he was bitten by a snake. I am afraid that I cannot return her to you, Uncle Issa"it has been longer than five years since you lost her, after all. I find I have grown,a Laeth paused with a man-to-man look that conveyed a risqu meaning to his words, afond of her attentions. She knows just how to please me.a Laeth casually wrapped his hand around her neck, just as Isslic had. He pulled her away from Lord Winterseineas grip and twisted her casually around for a kiss.

Rialla complied with Laethas demands, but it was his sorrow at discovering that it was his uncle who had hurt her, not passion, that slipped through the fraying defenses of her empathy. When the kiss was over, Rialla glanced unobtrusively at her former master.

Survival had forced her to read his face more easily than she could read a written page, and what she saw there worried her.

Laethas uncle smiled and said lightly, aVery well, Laeth, the consequences be on your head, though. Remember that she killed a guard when she escaped; keeping her might be dangerous.a Laeth smiled back at his uncle and said, aSheall do me no harm, Uncle Iss. She knows that there are worse masters to have.a He paused. The implication head just made might not have been intentional because he continued, aThe merchant was free with his whip. If she isnat a good girl, Iall just send her back and she knows it.a Winterseine had started to say something else when they were interrupted by a man who looked several years younger than Laeth. He was handsomer than either of the other men and taller, but he lacked their presence. His voice was a soft tenor when he spoke to Winterseine. aTamas says that the rest of our party is here.a Winterseine grunted, but Laeth stepped forward and reached for the younger manas hand and shook it warmly. aTerran, itas good to see you again. I see that Uncle Iss still has you organizing his travels.a The young man laughed shyly and nodded his head. aI donat know what Iad do if we stayed in one residence more than a week or soa"perhaps get a full nightas sleep without worrying if some vital piece of luggage got left at the last rest stop.a Then he ducked his head and added, aItas not that bad really; Father and I go mostly to the same places, so itas more like having many homes rather than none.a Since no one was looking at her, Rialla examined Terranas face. She had forgotten about Winterseineas son: he had been as unobtrusive then as he appeared now.

Winterseine laughed, though there was an edge to it, and patted his son on the shoulder. aI donat know what Iad do without him. He makes all the travel arrangements and I just follow and enjoy the trip. Ah, it looks like people are starting to leave for the stables. Shall we join them?a Laeth turned Rialla around as if she were a child and patted her rump familiarly. aGo clean the room and see that you find the other green slipper for your dancing costume. I want you to wear it to dinner. Check under the bed; I might have thrown it there last night. I want you ready to join me at dinner tonight.a Rialla walked away obediently, carefully controlling the instinctive urge to run.

In Laethas suite she stretched out on the bed and thought about Winterseine. It surprised her how angry Laeth had been. She would have been less surprised by an apologetic refusal to return her, though she found his unexpected defense warming. She closed her eyes and slept.

The sounds of the hunting partyas return awoke her, and she got up hastily and began to dress in the emerald-green dancing costume shead purchased at Midgeas before leaving Sianim.

The green costume was surprisingly modest for being purchased from a brothel, quite suitable for a public dance. The veils covered her from hip to toe and from neck to wrist, almost concealing the skimpy top and bottom, allowing only faint glimpses of skin between the layers as Rialla moved.

She braided her hair into a neat crown that anchored still more veils that covered her face and neck, leaving only her exotically pale midriff bare. The miniature gold bells that were scattered through the costume were its most unusual feature, and had been a lucky find at the bazaar in Sianim.

She searched through her packs until she found a leather pouch containing the jewelry of a dancer. Viciously long, sharp, golden nails slipped over the ends of her fingers, held on by slender golden chains that attached to black leather wristbands. Similar gold chains dangled from black anklets. A much heavier chain wrapped around her waist and slid down until it rested on her hips.

She put on the silk slippers that matched the rest of her costume. Normally a dancer performed barefoot; but feet were considered erotic and unacceptable for an audience that would include noblewomen. Lastly, she donned the heavy black cloak that covered most of her costume.

Dressed, Rialla descended the stairs and walked out to the dining hall, where shead been commanded to wait for Laeth. She stood quietly, head down, outwardly ignoring the looks that the servants gave her; hers was probably the first dancing costume they had ever seen. Slaves were expensivea"only the very rich could afford thema"and dancers were more expensive than most. Most dancers were owned by businessmen, who used them to bring in customers to their taverns and clubs; dancers owned for private use were rare.

When Laeth entered, engaged in a loud, boisterous and not particularly sober conversation with his cousin Terran, who was frantically trying to quiet him, Rialla fell in behind. She held out Laethas chair and helped seat him, then stood back against the wall so that she wouldnat get in the way of the servants. In their own way, the nobles were as fascinated with her as the servants had been. They were merely more discreet with their stares, so as not to appear too interested.

It was almost fun to pretend, knowing that she was fooling all these people; especially since Laeth had already outfaced her former owner. It was odd, Rialla reflected, that shead never felt less like a slave than now when she was pretending to be one.

She didnat notice Lord Winterseine until he spoke in her ear.

aYou shouldnat have run away from me, Little One,a he whispered. aYou know what happens to slaves who run from me. Donat think the young whelp will keep you from my wrath. I have plans for him.a His rage boiled over onto her like molten lava when he gripped her arm . . . These fools! Think that they can toy with me, do they? . . . She was pulled out of his grasp and his mind by a strong hand on her wrist.

aSlave girl,a said Laeth in slightly drunken tones, aget me the brandy that I brought from Sianim. Terran, here, said that heas never tried Rethian brandy, despite having visited Reth on numerous occasions.a He shook his head chidingly at his cousin, as he shoved Rialla in the direction of the entrance.

She fled the room gratefully and darted up the stairs, not slowing until she reached Laethas suite and shut the door behind her. As she tried to locate the brandy shead just packed, she attempted to figure out what was bothering her about Lord Winterseine.

She had expected him to be angry, but his anger had been disproportionate. She had been valuable, but not irreplaceable. His rage had a hard edge of insanity about it, and of paranoia. From the little shead caught, she thought Winterseine was angry most of the time. . .perhaps frightened as well.

When shead speculated that her former owner was the man who called himself the Voice of Altis, she hadnat really believed it. She could now. Head changed in more substantial ways than a few gray hairs in his mustache. Arrogance was necessary to a man who turned other humans into slaves, but Lord Winterseineas arrogance had grown tremendously.

Finding the bottle at last, Rialla started through the hall to the stairs. She stopped in front of the dining room to catch her breath, then strode in with studied grace.

Winterseine was on the other side of the room from Laeth, who was engaged in being thoroughly obnoxious. Rather than interrupting him, Rialla set the bottle on the table, well out of reach of his exaggerated gestures, stepped back to the wall and let herself be distracted by his antics.

In the middle of the serving of the hot cherry torte, Laeth, who had allowed Terran to keep him quiet through the previous four courses, suddenly jumped to his feet.

aI donat care who the princess marries; she can marry a donkey if she cares to: I just canat stomach a Darranian princess marrying that Rethian ox. The only thing good to come out of Reth in the last hundred years is this brandy.a He grabbed at the bottle Rialla had brought down and missed. Giving it a puzzled look, he jumped on top of the table and managed to locate it near his ankles.

He swung the brandy toward his brother with such enthusiasm that even Rialla, who knew that he was about as drunk as she was, winced; but somehow he managed to hold onto the neck and keep from falling off the table at the same time.

aYou, Karsten, are the reason that our poor princess is being forced to marry that brainless hunk of bear bait.a His voice held such melodramatic sorrow that Rialla felt a grin tug at the corner of her mouth. So that was why head been making such a spectacle of himself.

After this performance, it would be clear that Laeth would be sympathetic to a plot that would halt the union of Reth and Darran. He was hoping that he would be approached by someone who would give them a suspect for the attempted assassinationsa"someone other than his uncle. Rialla was afraid that he wasnat going to find one.

Lord Karsten sat pale and composed at the head of the table, but Rialla thought that his lack of color was more from his recent poisoning than from the antics of his incorrigible brother. It was Marri who stood up and proposed that everyone retire to the music room for the evening entertainment. Terran and Lord Karsten, between them, managed to talk Laeth into getting off the table. Karsten poured several cups of something that a hastily summoned valet swore would sober Laeth.

Laeth allowed himself to be quieted and appeared almost normal, if sleepy, by the time he finished the drink. He was led cautiously into the music room and seated in the back. Terran was left with him to ensure his good behavior.

The music room was actually a small auditorium. Rialla felt a momentas panic at the thought of trying to fit three hundred people into it, but apparently an evening of amateur entertainment was not the highlight of the celebration. Although the room was not huge, there were still plenty of empty seats.

She found out why when the first performer stepped on the stage.

Two hours later Rialla had fallen into a comfortable doze that gave her some relief from the neophyte troubadour performing on a poorly tuned lyre. The performances werenat without merit. Marri was an acceptable alto, but Riallaas favorite was a middle-aged woman whose dramatic rendition of a classic monologue was eclipsed by an untimely rip in her overly tight gown.

Laeth, who had lapsed into a convincing drunken coma, sat up and rubbed his eyes and peered bleary-eyed at the stage. When it was obvious that no one was on it, he stood up and motioned Rialla to follow.

Rialla could hear her pulse pound in her ears, and adrenaline made her muscles taut and responsive. Shead almost forgotten how much she enjoyed performing. Before, it had been tainted by her slave status; this time she was performing by choice.

In the menas club in Kentar, there had always been a drummer to provide a beat for her, but here she would have to dance to her own music. Laeth stopped at the bottom of the stage and motioned her to continue up the stairs. She took off her black cloak and struck a demure pose, waiting for the audience to quiet. It took time for the people in their seats to realize what she was waiting for and quit talking.

She tested the chamber by a subtle movement of her foot, and the bells rang out with a clear and sweet tone. She had chosen her dance carefully, as the dances that she had used most often were unsuitable for public display. This was an obscure dance that one of the older dancers in the club had taught her; the story of a young girl who is lost in the woods at night and killed by a shapeshifter.

Rialla let herself become the girl, concentrating on the sweet refrain of the bells. Her movements were soft and furtive as she snuck out of her parentsa house, then light and graceful as she dodged through the woods to find her lover.

He wasnat where they were supposed to meet; but she wasnat worried and danced to the night and the moon, accompanied by the musical babble of the tiny bells that she wore.

In the middle of an agile leap, she heard a noise. Landing, she crouched, momentarily frightened. She remembered that her lover should be coming. Her fear changed to excitement as she searched eagerly for him. He was not there.

With a shrug, she gave herself back to the dance. Her movements were lithe and willowy, but she was obviously tiring when she heard another noise. This time it was her lover in the form of a black cloak cleverly wielded in her hand. They danced together, laughing and passionatea"until she noticed something on his clothing: something sticky that stained her hand.

She looked at him, questioning, and saw a great ravening beast in the place of her lover. She turned and ran, but he flew ahead of her and dropped over her, knocking her to the ground. She struggled uselessly and then they were still.

Rialla lay facedown on the cool wooden floor and panted, listening to the silence that was as much a tribute as the applause that followed.

Laeth stumbled up the stairs with exaggerated care and pulled her to her feet. He grinned and waved at the assembly, managing a credible bow that tested Riallaas ability to maintain her slave face over her laughter, and tugged her off the stage and out of the room by a side exit.

Safe once more in the suite, Laeth pulled off his alcohol-soaked shirt and undershirt while Rialla washed her face in the cool water in the ewer.

aHow did you do that bit with the cloak where it flew up and then dropped?a Laethas voice was muffled as he pulled a clean tunic over his head. aIs it weighted?a aItas weighted, but it still takes a lot of practice to get it to fly just right.a Rialla sifted through her bag and finally came up with a clean tunic. With it in hand she went to the changing room and stripped out of the dancing costume. The cotton tunic felt feather-light in comparison, though it was longer than most of its kind and hung well past her knees.

Barefoot, she returned to the bedroom and dumped the costume on top of her traveling bag. The bells protested her lack of care, but she ignored the noise as she knelt beside the bag and fought to snug the laces. aShouldnat you have performed your drunken sot routine a little sooner? Thereas only one day left before we return.a The bag taken care of, she sat cross-legged on the heavy carpet that padded the floor.

Laeth flung himself backward on the bed and said, aSeeing that the primary suspect seems to be my uncle, I suppose it was better to do it today then never. Maybe another slave-training worm will come crawling out into the open, and become the next suspect as Karstenas failed assassin.a Rialla could only see his legs from where she was sitting, but she didnat have to see his face to understand how he was feeling. aIam sorry, Laeth. It might not be him. The slave girl could have belonged to someone else.a aNo,a he replied. aI told Terran that I had seen an unusually colored slave girl arrive, and he said she was Uncleas. She died last night.a aShe might have been from somewhere that Iave never been. There are a number of peoples in the far South, by the salt seas or over the sea, that I have never seen. My empathy is not so infallible that I could tell for sure she was from the East.a Rialla was responding to the misery in his voice rather than out of any conviction of her own.

aI donat doubt that the girl was from the East. Itas all right, Ria, you donat have to make excuses for him. Even if he isnat trying to kill Karsten, he is not the man I thought he was. He is not only a slave trainer, but a slave trader.a He gave a half laugh. aYou know, it probably wouldnat have bothered me before I met you.a Laeth sat up on the bed and crossed his legs underneath him, ignoring the damage his boots were doing to the bed tick. aI always wondered where he got his wealth, but I was never interested enough to find out. Before he inherited the Winterseine estate from a cousin, the only land he owned was a small property in the South, good for farming but not much else. Everything that Grandfather had went to Father, and then Karsten. If Uncle earns his money through slavery, it gives him a definite motive for killing Karsten.a Rialla reached up and touched him on the knee, a rare gesture from her. aLady Marri might not have been far off when she claimed someone was trying to blame you for the assassination attempts. If Winterseine manages to pin the blame on you, then he gains control of all the wealth Karsten holds, as well as a good deal of the power.a He gave her a tired smile. aI suppose weall just have to see to it that my brother doesnat get killed. Then I wonat have to worry.a THE GREAT BALLROOM had been cleaned and polished for the occasion. Even its healthy size was barely capable of handling the crowd of people who had come to celebrate the birthday of the most powerful lord in the realm. There was scarcely room to stand, let alone dance.

The gentry, and the more wealthy merchants and farmers of the surrounding areas, had been invited to mingle with the powerful aristocrats. Mostly, thought Rialla as she dodged through the crowd with the cool glass of ale she had brought from the kitchens, so that Karsten could house some visitors with the local gentry rather than trying to cram them even tighter in his keep.

She had gone on many such errands this evening, allowing her to mingle despite her slave status, but shead managed to overhear nothing more interesting than a clandestine affair. Shead managed to avoid Lord Winterseine, chiefly because he had not sought her out, but she found herself constantly aware of his presence.

Approaching Laeth, Rialla observed that his little group had been invaded by Lord Karsten and Lady Marri. Laethas brother looked pale and had spent the better part of the ball sitting down on one of the couches set up here and there along the edge of the room. Marri kept her hand on his arm and her eyes lowered, like any good Darranian wife. Laethas cousin Terran stood quietly in the background with several other young men.

a. . . lucky that the healer is as good as he is.a Rialla caught the tail end of Laethas statement as she handed him the vessel she carried.

aIndeed,a agreed Karsten, aI sent an invitation to him this morning requesting his presence here so I could suitably reward him.a aDid you offer him enough of a bribe that he would show up? If you donat express your gratitude to him, people might think that you were lacking in manners.a Laethas comment drew a gasp from someone, but his brother only laughed.

aAs a matter of fact, I told him I wanted to talk to him about reducing the amount of payment that the village owes me,a said Lord Karsten, exchanging a boyish grin with Laeth. aIf that doesnat make him show up, I donat know what will.a aLady Marri looks thirsty,a observed Laeth laconically. aWould you care for something from the kitchens? Some ale, perhaps?a aPlease,a she agreed. With a gesture, Laeth sent Rialla scurrying back to the kitchen.

She was almost to the door when some instinct caused her to spin around and look up. In a corner of the domed ceiling a shadow coalesced and condensed until it took on a monstrous, writhing, floating form that seemed to swim through the air as if it were buoyant.

Someone else noticed the thing and screamed. The creature, now fully materialized, slowly twisted through the air toward Lord Karsten like a giant snake with tentacles. Then it hesitated, as if something caught its attention. At the same time, Rialla felt a tentative touch on her mind; gentle and seductive, it froze her where she stood.

The thing shifted direction with a swiftness that something that size shouldnat have, whipping its tail behind it with an audible crack. Green and brown patches of scraggly fibers that looked remarkably like weeds hung here and there from its body, dropping off as if the creature had leprosy. The end of its tail was armed with sharp black spikes that glistened wetly in the light of the ballroom chandeliers. The only bright color on it was the red of its eyes, all six of them glittering like a kingas ransom of rubies as they focused on its preya"Rialla.

Rialla absently took a step closer to it, as it hovered slightly in front and above her. While she was standing there, the better part of the crowd fled the room in a blind panic, until the space around her was unoccupied, leaving only a knot of people near Lord Karsten on the far side of the room. It stretched out one of its black, cordlike tentacles and touched her carefully, ruffling her hair.

There was no pain, only a slight tugging to indicate what it was doing, but the contact opened it to her empathic senses, and she knew its nature. Older by far than any creature shead ever touched in that manner, it too was empathic. It fed on emotions until there was nothing left, then consumed the body of its victimsa"she could feel its anticipation.

The creature was too alien for Rialla to pick up any but the most basic of memories, but she could tell what its intentions were; finding an empath was an unexpected treata"something it hadnat fed upon before.

Casually, giving her no warning, it projected a stray thought, and Rialla screamed in terror that she could feel the thing absorba"but the terror broke her trance. Frantically, with a danceras agility, she twisted out of the cord and ran. Grabbing a gilt-edged sword hanging from the nearby wall, Rialla ripped it from its mounting and held it in front of her with practiced ease. She could taste the blood where she had bitten her lip.

The sword was obviously made for decorative purposesa"it was ill-balanced and unwieldy. It was also, unfortunately, dull. She thought wryly that she would more likely be able to bludgeon the thing to death with the sword than cut it.

Another black cord stretched tentatively toward her. When she struck out at it, it merely wrapped itself around the sword and tugged it gently away, dropping it carelessly on the floor out of Riallaas reach.

Muttering a filthy word, Rialla grabbed a black cast-iron candle holder and knocked the candle off the sharpened spike at the end. The candle snuffed itself out on the floor.

The candle holder was almost as good a weapon as the sword. The point was sharp enough to skewer almost anything, but it was only two hand-spans long. Judging from the creatureas size, that was almost long enough to enrage it. The holder was also heavy; she could just manage to hold it if she rested the base on the floor. Unless the creature was as stupid as an enraged boar, her makeshift weapon wouldnat do her any good. From what she could sense, the beast was smarter than she was. Though she had strengthened her mental protection as well as she could, she felt the creature laugh at her.