Rialla dropped the end of the useless candle holder and stepped back to avoid its bounce. Then, with deliberate calmness, she waited for the creature to touch her again. There was one weapon she hadnat tried. Though she had never done anything like it before, she knew that it was possible to turn the creatureas attack against it. If she were strong enough.

A slender cord wrapped itself around her neck so gently it almost tickled. Sweat trickled down Riallaas neck as she waited for its mind to touch hers. When it did, she welcomed ita"luring it deeper and deeper. Then with a savage, desperate wrench she tore down the scarred barriers that kept the emotions of everyone around her out of her mind, and poured everything she could gather from the crowded ballroom into the creatureas mind. Theoretically, if she could rid herself of it fast enough, only a token of the full effect would touch her.

Momentarily, she caught something out of the crowd . . . a voice in her head, Lord Karstenas . . . betrayal and surprisea"hot pain that faded into the nothingness that she recognized as death. There were a jumble of emotions from people near Karstenas body. Ignoring the import of Karstenas murder, she fed his emotions and death into the mind of the creature that she battled.

The thing struck her with its tail, trying to break her concentration, laying open the large muscle in her thigh. She fed the burning pain back to it. The creature twitched and fought frantically, as if it faced a physical weapon, losing control of its thoughts as it tried to flee. She sensed the opportunity and thrust its own terror back into it. When its heart burst under the adrenal surge, she frantically tried to close her mind. With an ear-shattering wail the creature fell heavily and lay silent and unmoving.

Rialla slowly became aware that she was on her hands and knees and that the floor was wet. The smell of half-rotten plants was thick in the air. As the minutes passed, she knew that she had to find the strength from somewhere to make sure that no one touched her. She could feel people moving closer as the stillness of the monster gave them courage.

If one of them decided to help her, they were likely to suffer the same fate as the creature that shead killed. She didnat have the control to shield her empathy against such an invasion.

There werenat many people left in the ballroom, which made her condition slightly more bearable. Through her weak barriers she could sense Laeth and the tearing grief that he felt at his brotheras death. Rialla could feel Lord Jarrohas rage and Marrias surprise at the depth of sorrow that she felt.

The healer must indeed have accepted the lure that Karsten had offered him. Rialla heard his voice ring clearly through the abandoned room, calmness in the insane clamor of the ballroom. aLord Karsten is dead. The knife punctured his heart and left lung; he died almost instantly. I am sorry, but there is nothing I can do.a Someone was getting too close. Rialla managed to say hoarsely, aStay away.a He wasnat listening, so she added hoarsely, aIt might not be dead.a That made him back away fast.

There were too many thoughts in her head. She needed to rest before she could block everyone out. The stone was cold against her cheek, cold and wet.

aNo. Stay back, Lord Laeth. Unless you want to end like that thing over there. Give her some time.a The healer again. Tris. Someone who would keep the people away until she could pull up her barriers.

She relaxed and concentrated on retrieving her barriers, but she loosened her control too soon. She should have known how well Laeth followed directions; she felt his intention just an instant too late. When he touched her, she screamed, trying frantically to shield him from the confusion of emotions, his and hers. Mercifully, she passed out just after Laeth did.

FOUR.

Rialla awoke with a smile. During the short space of time before full awareness descended, she savored the unusually strong sense of well-being like a sliver of ice on a hot day. She opened her eyes with reluctance as her memory returned.

Instead of the gray stone walls shead grown used to, the room she was in was dominated by wood. The floorboards were varnished and lovingly polished to a high gloss. The walls were flatboard interlocked and darkened with oil. Across the room was a large window, extravagantly made of clear glass that flooded the room with light from outside.

The room was minimally furnished with the bed, a small table in the far corner and a small woven rug. The total effect was spartan and spacious: the warm colors of the woods and the red and yellow bedclothes kept it from feeling unwelcoming. It seemed obvious that she wasnat in Westhold, but she didnat have the slightest idea where else she could be.

Rialla sat up and caught her breath at the sharp pain in her left thigh. She remembered being hit by the swamp creatureas tail, but at the time shead been too caught up in the battle to assess the damage.

She sat up stiffly and tugged the unwieldy quilt off her leg, swinging both of her feet off the bed. A thick bandage of unbleached cotton covered her thigh from hip to knee. Underneath the wrappings, her leg throbbed painfully, though she hadnat felt it at all when she woke up. Rubbing her head, which was also starting to ache, she tried to reconstruct what had happened in the ballroom, so she could figure out where she was and what she was doing here.

It was difficult to sort out the mixture of other peopleas emotions and thoughts, but she could piece together a little of it. She knew that Lord Karsten was dead. Shead felt him die with a brief burning pain as a sharp knife slid between his ribs and into his heart.

Someone saw it happen, saw Laeth slip the knife ina"Lord Jarroh, thatas who it had been. His thoughts had a familiar touch; she could remember his rage from her days as a dancer at the club in Kentar.

Rialla shook her head in frustration. She knew that Laeth hadnat killed his brother; she had felt his grief and rage also when he saw his brother fall. Why had Lord Jarroh seen something that hadnat happened? Where was Laeth? Why was she here?

Ignoring her wounded leg, Rialla managed to set her feet on the floor, but that was as close to standing up as she was going to get. Frustrated, she reached empathically to touch Laeth and assure herself that he was well. It wasnat until then that she realized the scars that had limited her ability were gone, as if they had never been. The battle with the monster must have finished what the death of the Eastern empath had begun.

She found the mouse in the wall, and a deer eating grass in the forest nearby. But she couldnat touch Laetha"or anyone else for that matter. Experimentally, she constructed the shields that would protect her from unwanted contact. Her awareness of the deer and then the mouse faded. She dropped the shields again, to look for anyone she could read.

She touched something else. It felt familiar, as if shead just been dreaming about it. Without willing it, a smile began to spread across her face. It wasnat what she was used to feeling when she touched a living creature. She received no emotions, no thoughts; just beautya"as if a sculptor had learned to work in a new medium and created something extraordinary. Something just for her.

Fascinated, she drew closer to it. She was so absorbed in her study that when the door opened and the healer, Tris, walked in, he startled her. She instinctively closed off her gift and assumed the blank face that slaves normally wear.

Now, where had he come from? With her barriers down and her talent free, she should have been able to sense him before head gotten that close. Although she couldnat read Winterseine without touching him, shead been able to tell where he was. She must have let herself be distracted by the . . . whatever it was that shead been sensing.

At least his presence gave her some clue as to where she was. From that and the herbal smells wafting through the roomas open door, she concluded she was at the healeras cottage in the village of Tallonwood.

aGood morning,a he said with suspicious blandness. aHow are you feeling?a She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to read his face. aI have been better,a she finally allowed neutrally.

He smiled, humor warming his gray-green eyes as it animated his voice. aI bet you have. Youall feel better if you put your legs back on the bed.a He made no move to help her.

She gave him a wary look, but since it was obvious that she wasnat going to be going anywhere soon, she painfully maneuvered back under the quilt.

He waited until she was settled comfortably, before sitting on the end of the bed and leaning against the wall. He was a big man, and the end of the bed sank considerably with his weight.

aI donat know how much you saw of last nightas events.a He let the end of his sentence rise in a question.

aI was fairly busy,a said Rialla, truthfully enough.

The healer grunted, then said, aLord Karsten was killed by a knife in the back, while you were slaying the monster. Lord Laeth is locked in the guard tower at Westhold. The evidence against him is quite strong.

aLord Jarroh himself saw Laeth stab Karsten in the confusion. A guard reported seeing the Lady of the Hold leaving Laethas rooms late at night. He also apparently launched quite a verbal attack on his brother the night before Karsten died. The only mystery seems to be what happened to the dagger with which Karsten was murdered.

aSeveral people, including myself, saw it, but it appears to be missing. It was quite distinctive; the hilt was silver and shaped like a coiled serpent with ruby eyesa"the one that Laeth was wearing the night Lord Karsten was poisoned. You have probably seen it.a aYawan,a swore Rialla with some heat, forgetting her role altogether. She was left with a real mess to clean up.

aQuite,a replied the healer, Tris, relaxing even more against the wall. aIt certainly looks as if someone has planned carefully to insure Lord Laeth is blamed for Karstenas death; unless Laeth is stupid enough to have actually done it.a aNo,a said Rialla. aIt wasnat Laeth.a Tris nodded. aLord Winterseine was anxiously explaining to Lord Jarroh that he had caught his young nephew, Laeth, playing with magic one afternoon when Laeth was a boy. Obviously the adult Laeth took magic up again while he was living in Sianim, and transported the monster from the Great Swamp.

aIndeed, I thought Winterseine knew a great deal about the unusual creature. He told Jarroh that the monster feeds on emotions and that you are an empatha"not that anyone in the ballroom last night was in any doubt of that.

aObviously Laeth intended the thing to act as a diversion while he killed Karsten. He needed you to draw the beastas attentiona"so it wouldnat kill anyone it wasnat supposed to. Winterseine explained that he had requested that Laeth return you to him and Laeth refused. Winterseine was surprised and hurt until he understood Laethas motivation.a aAll that you have is my word that Laeth didnat kill Karsten. Why doesnat all this evidence convince you?a asked Rialla finally.

Tris looked at her briefly, sincerity clear in his eyes, and then looked out the window, as if he knew how uncomfortable she was meeting anyoneas gaze.

aAside from my personal opinion of Winterseine?a he asked. aI was watching Lord Laeth while Karsten was stabbed. I didnat see who killed Karsten, but it wasnat Laeth. He was trying to get through the crowd and help you battle the monster.a Rialla looked out the window too, keeping Tris in her peripheral vision. His cordiality was making her nervous; he wasnat treating her like a slave. She liked people to be predictable; she couldnat understand what motivated the healer.

Deliberately, she looked at him until she drew his eye, wanting to watch his face. aWhy do you think that I care about what happens to Lord Laeth? I am only his slave.a The healer smiled, and she could see a hint of a dimple under his close-shaven beard. Humor lit his eyes.

aAh yes, a slave.a He rubbed his jaw, as if in thought, and then snapped his fingers. aBut I didnat finish telling you the rest of it. Lord Winterseine was here early this morning. It seems that with Karsten dead, he is Laethas closest relative: as such he is claiming custody of Laethas valuables, including you. I told him that you were currently too ill to move. Are you sure you are merely Laethas slave?a Rialla took an involuntary breath, forgetting momentarily the trepidation she had about the healer. She had been so worried about Laeth that she had forgotten what his imprisonment would mean to his slave. Ren had promised that she wouldnat remain a slave, no matter how the bones fell, but shead rather not risk it. She also would rather not see Laeth executed for a crime he didnat commit.

The problem was that she couldnat do anything about Laeth or her impending return to slavery. She was effectively immobilized on the wrong side of the Darranian border, with a tattoo that proclaimed her property of Winterseine, who sounded as if he were intent on the death of her closest friend.

She looked at Tris, who had turned back to the window, giving her time to think about his words. She was unsure why Tris sounded so certain that she was not Laethas slave, but at this point she didnat believe it mattered much. With Karsten dead and Laeth imprisoned, somehow keeping their investigations secret hardly seemed imperativea"especially since they had failed so spectacularly at foiling Karstenas murderer. On the other hand, with Trisas cooperation, she might be able to stall Winterseine long enough to do something about freeing Laeth.

aWhy are you so interested?a she asked. aI have spoken to you only once, and the only time you spoke to Laeth was to exchange unpleasantries.a Tris drew in a breath and spoke slowly. aI have my reasons,a he said. aI donat think that I will tell them to you yeta"but I mean no harm to you or Lord Laeth.a Rialla eyed him warily, but followed her instinct to trust him. aI used to be a slave, owned by Winterseine. I escaped years ago, and have been training horses in Sianim. When the Spymaster needed someone to play slave and accompany Laeth here, he recruited me.a When the healer turned to look at her, she lowered her eyes, but continued speaking. aThe Spymaster had word that there was a plot against Lord Karsten. It didnat suit his purpose that Lord Karsten be killed, so he sent Laeth and me here to prevent it. As Lord Karstenas brother, Laeth was a perfect choice. As his slave, I was supposed to gather information on who was trying to kill Karsten and why.a She shot Tris a quick, wry look. aUnfortunately, it seems that we only made the murder easier by giving the killer the perfect suspect. Laeth has always had a questionable reputation.a Lowering her gaze, she continued slowly, aI believe that the man who killed Karsten was his uncle, Lord Winterseine. He came here with an empathic slave, who died by her own hand the night she arrived. I canat be certain he intended to use her as a distraction for the creature in the ballroom, as he claimed that Laeth used mea"I would have thought that she was too valuable for such use. Still, he certainly knew that she could be used that way.a She pulled the fabric of the bedcover tight and released it. aAs for magic, I know that Winterseine is a mage. He makes his living as a slave trainer and tradera"he was the man who enslaved me. If slavery were outlawed, as Lord Karsten proposed, it would reduce Winterseineas income enormously. With Karsten dead and Laeth blamed for it, Winterseine inherits all of Karstenas wealth and protects his current income as well.a Tris said, aI thought he was not at the hold when Lord Karsten was poisoned.a Rialla shrugged. aHe wasnat there, but his servant Tamas was. It wouldnat have been much of a feat for him to slip poison into the food or drink. A trusted servant, even someone elseas, is close to being invisible.a She rubbed her temples to alleviate her headache and continued, aThere is also the matter of the missing dagger. Any decent mage can tell who wielded a weapon used for murder.a He had started to say something when she heard a knock from somewhere else in the cottage. He pushed her flat on the bed and put a finger to his lips, then shut the door quietly behind him as he left the room.

She couldnat hear what was said, but she recognized the voice. When Tris, carrying what appeared to be a pile of bandages and a cloth bag, ushered Lord Winterseine into the room, she was lying down with her eyes closed. Winterseine touched her, and she moaned, channeling the pain from her leg to him through his touch, magnified enough that he didnat leave his hand on her for very long.

aHeas right, Father,a said a voice that she recognized as Terranas. aShe still seems to be in much pain. The spikes on the tail of the swamp creature are poisonous. We should leave her here until sheas healed or sheall be of little use to us. What good is a crippled dancer? From what Iave been told, the healer is the finest in Darran. If she is recoverable, he is the one to do it.a Poisonous, thought Rialla. The healer must be pretty impressive when he can make a tainted wound feel this well in less than a night.

aVery well, Healer,a said Winterseineas hated voice, and she felt him pull back the quilt so he could see the tight bandages on her leg. Though she was wearing the gray slave tunic, she still felt exposed without the covering to hide beneath.

aI will be back to see her tomorrow,a he continued. aDonat worry about payment. If my nephew is not freed, I will cover the expense. She is a very valuable dancer and well worth the investmenta"especially if you are able to keep her leg from scarring.a aI will do my best, but not for the sake of your investment.a Trisas voice was cold with dislike, and Rialla remembered that Laeth had said that the healer was not overly fond of aristocrats.

aOf course not, my dear man. A healer doesnat think of such things as money when he is curing the sick.a Lord Winterseineas tone was amicable, disguising the dig in his words. Everyone knew that this healer was infamous for charging exorbitant rates.

Apparently the dig bothered Tris not at all. He said coolly, aMy rates increase with the irritation that the case gives me. Yours have just doubled. You have seen her. The door is in the same place it was when you entered.a Winterseine laughed, but he left all the same.

Rialla and the healer waited until they heard the outside door open and shut. Tris stuck his head into the other room to make sure that they had left, then resumed his position on the foot of the bed.

aSo,a he said warmly, as if the frost in his manner had never been, awhat do you plan to do now?a aFirst,a she said, aI need to get Laeth out of the guard tower. I suspect that unless Lord Winterseine makes a personal confession, Laeth will hang for the death of his brother.a aI can help with that,a said Tris. He closed his hand and then opened it to show her the yellow rose that he held. Bringing the flower to his nose, he smelled it once; then he handed it to Rialla and continued to speak. aI have talents that might prove useful.a She looked at the rose, wondering if he used magic or sleight of hand. Deciding it didnat matter, she granted him a tentative smile. aThank you.a aAnd after you free Laeth?a asked Tris thoughtfully.

aGods,a she said, adonat ask me. Iam a horse trainer, not a spy. I suppose Iall go back to Sianim with Laeth.a Something about retreating to Sianim left a bad taste in her mouth, but she didnat know what else to do.

Tris got to his feet. aYouare not going to be capable of anything unless your leg is ready to hold you, so let me take a look under the bandage.a He drew a knife from a boot sheath, and pushed the blankets to one side. With a brisk efficiency that said much for the sharpness of his knife, Tris cut away the bandage on her leg.

From the looks of the wound, a spike had hit just above her knee and ripped through muscle almost to her hip. The flesh around the wound was mottled with bruises. There was a poultice over the torn area, a green mass that made the slice look even nastier than it felt, but what caught Riallaas attention was the smell.

She grabbed her nose quickly. aWhat is that stuff?a Tris looked up momentarily from his perusal of the injury, unperturbed by the foul odor. aIam not sure exactly what kind of poison the spirit-eater uses. This dressing should have drawn out most of it. Most of the odor is the poison, though the leaves have a strong scent of their own. Iam going to put the same dressing back on until it quits smelling, then I can start your healing.a He separated an oil-treated cloth from the rest of his pile and lay it out on the bed, then taking a small pair of pincers from the bag on the floor, he began pulling the large green leaves off her leg. Once he had most of the big pieces off, he carefully picked out the bits and pieces of greenery that remained. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and Rialla bit her lip as the gentle probing induced the pain she had expected earlier.

Tris gathered up the mess and left the room, returning shortly with two pans of steaming water which he set on the floor. He dipped a clean cloth in the water, then wrung it out and set it on her leg; he repeated his action several times as the cloth cooled down. When he was finished, the wound was clean and Rialla was trembling.

He took a carefully wrapped bundle out of the bag and unwrapped it, revealing dried leaves as long as Riallaas forearm and twice as broad. He took five or six and lay them in the clean pan of water to soak.

aHere now,a he said, and his normally slight accent was thicker with sympathy. aIam going to put a bit of this powder on the cut. It should help the pain in a bit.a As he spoke, he sprinkled a yellow powder lightly on the wound, holding the torn skin open with one hand. aItas an anesthetic made from a plant I caught some local youngsters chewing on.a He started to put the softened leaves on her leg and chose to distract her with his story. aOne of them had a bit too much, and I had a time keeping him from cutting off his hand. He thought that a maggot had gotten into it and was eating its way to his heart.

aI gave the whole village a lecture on the weed. In case that doesnat work, whenever I run into a patch of the stuff I make sure that the taste keeps anything with a tongue in its mouth from eating it. Iave found and treated enough of the plants that most of the village young ones steer clear of it; but as a topical anesthetic it has few equals.a aYouare a magician?a Rialla questioned, hesitantly. Darran was not a place where anyone admitted to being a wizard, but Trisas words had invited the question.

aMagic-user,a he said as if he were correcting her, but as far as Rialla knew the two were the same thing. aDoes that bother you? You are not Darranian.a She shook her head. aNo.a He pulled the remnants of the old bandages out from under her leg, where they were keeping the sheets clean, and began strapping her leg with new wraps. aThere, almost finished.a A bell rang stridently in the other room, and he called out, aComing. No need to ruin my ears.a He finished what he was doing, gathered up the mess and headed toward the other room. aYou might try to rest up. Iall be back in to check on you when I am through.a Rialla shut her eyes and endured the throbbing of her leg for a few minutes before the pain started to lessen. As soon as the powder numbed the wound, she fell asleep again.

When she woke up, the small table had been pulled up beside her bed. The surface of the table was inlaid with light and dark wooden squares, forming a game board. The squares were occupied by small wooden game pieces carved in the shapes of animals, real and imaginary.

The pieces lined up on her side of the board had been darkened by oil until they were nearly black. On the other side of the table, seated on a stool he must have pulled from another room, Tris was carefully lining up similar game pieces that were fashioned from a blond wood.

Without looking at her, Tris said, aThis is a game that my father taught me, and now I am going to teach you. You would call it aSteal the Dragon,a and,a he held up a winged lizard carved with loving detail, athe object of the game is to steal the other personas dragon.a He explained to her in careful detail how to develop strategies, and the importance of stealth and deceit, following his lecture by saying, aOf course, you realize all I have just imparted to you wonat help you at all. The only way to learn to play is by playing.a Rialla had noticed earlier that she was unable to stay wary around the healer; he simply wouldnat allow it. He ignored her silences and treated her as if theyad known each other for years.

After the first twenty moves of the game, Tris gave her bland face a piercing look under his heavy eyebrows and said in a menacing rumble, aWoman, who taught you how to play?a In stunned disbelief, Rialla heard herself giggle. She had never heard such a ridiculous sound come out of her mouth, and she pulled the quilt up to her face to keep the silly sound from coming out again.

When she was sure that she had it under control, though laughter still pulled at the corners of her mouth, she said, aThere is a woman in Sianim who has taught that game to everyone she can con into it. She hosts a tournament at least once a week. She says that it keeps the rabble off the streets and trains them to be devious, an important skill for a mercenary.a Tris growled at her and made his move. As the play progressed, the healeras face grew darker, and it took him longer to move his pieces. Rialla decided that he was playacting more than anything else, because his shoulders were loose and his movements easy.

She took one of his pieces. He glowered at her beneath his heavy brows, leaving her fighting the urge to laugh.

Darkness fell, and with an impatient wave of his hand the oil lamps on the walls lit themselves, and Tris returned his attention to the game, ignoring Riallaas start at the casual way he used magic. All the magicians shead ever seen tended to use it sparingly.

Watching the healer, Rialla wondered why the thought of his anger didnat make her afraid the way other men did. If any other man, even Laeth, had growled at her the way Tris had, she would have been bristling with defensiveness, despite knowing he was only teasing. Why was it that when this total stranger glared at her, she laughed?

Experimentally she lifted her shields and stretched out the fingers of her talent. Shead already discovered she couldnat read him outright, but maybe she could learn something if she were focused on him. She reached out and toucheda"then drew back startled.

She had felt him before. He was the fascinating presence that shead sensed when she woke up in the healeras cottage. The being so different that she hadnat even realized he was human.

aYour move,a he said.

She closed her talent off again, reluctantly. Almost absently she moved a piece and went back to her thoughts. With Winterseine and the few other magicians that shead tried to read, shead been able to discern no more than their presence unless she was touching them. Shead concluded that the discipline required to control magic gave magicians involuntary shields against her talent. She wondered why Tris was different.

aYour move.a There was a hint of satisfaction in his tone that caused her to turn her attention back to the game.

The last move shead made had undone the strategy she had been working on for the past several hours. Any move that she made would leave her dragon for Tris to steal, and if she didnat move (also an option), he could steal her dragon anyway.

aGive up?a he asked, a little more eagerly than he should have, and she closed her mouth and returned her attention to the board.

aNot yet,a she answered. There was something that she was missing; she stared intently at the board. There was nothing she could do to protect her dragon, but maybe there was something that she could do to get his. With a triumphant smile she took her rat and moved it to the same space that was occupied by his dragon. aTheft!a she claimed triumphantly.

aThief,a he acknowledged with a betrayed look at the board. He gathered the pieces and put them in the drawer of the little table with the same manner that a mother would use to put her children to bed. By the time he was finished, he had a broad smile on his face. aThatas the first good game Iave had since I came here. Rematch tomorrow. Now, you get some sleep.a She slid down the bed and pulled up the covers, and Tris waved at the lamps. Compliantly, the small flames extinguished themselves.

aIf you need anything, just ask,a said the healer. aIall be on the other side of the door. Good dreams.a aAnd to you,a Rialla replied with a yawn.

The next morning the dressing on Riallaas leg still smelled like rotten onions, so Tris replaced the old leaves with fresh ones and covered her thigh with a new bandage. When he was finished, he brought in two bowls of thick porridge and chatted lightly while they ate breakfast; then he left to go collect some herbs he needed.

Rialla waited until he was gone before experimenting with her newly recovered empathy. If she were going to use it to rescue Laeth, she needed to know how well it was working.

Releasing her shielding made her feel exposed. She shifted uncomfortably and pulled the bedcovers up under her chin, as if physical covering would make up for her lack of mental protection; but she didnat reestablish her barriers.

By the time she felt the healer near the cottage, she was sweating and exhausteda"but she knew that she was almost as strong as she had been before Winterseine captured her. If she couldnat work as effortlessly, at least her shields were stronger.

When Tris came into the room to check on her, he frowned and felt her forehead. aHow do you feel?a Rialla shrugged carefully; the work that shead been doing gave her a nasty headache. aNot too rough.a Tris grunted in acknowledgment and then said, aLunch first, then a nap.a Rialla fell asleep before he got back with lunch.

RIALLA OPENED HER eyes sometime later to find the oil lamps on and Tris muttering at the game board, apparently playing a game of Dragon against himself.

She watched for a while and then said, aBlack wins. If you move the black sparrow to the left three spaces, then the black stag can take the white dragon in two moves.a Tris tilted his head at the board, then got up from his stool. He moved around the table to stand by the bed and look from Riallaas point of view. He rubbed his beard and slanted an assessing glance at Rialla over his shoulder.

He began to reorganize the board for a fresh game. aAre you ready for a rematch?a he asked.

Rialla gifted him with a lazy smile and sat up. aReady to lose again?a He raised an eyebrow, and with laughing eyes he bared his teeth at her and made his first move. aEnjoy yourself now, sweetheart. You wonat feel like it later.a The room was silent and all but humming with intensitya"Tris was as competitive as Rialla. After twelve moves Tris had it won. He sat back and relaxed while Rialla stared furiously at the board, looking for a way out.

aTell me about Laeth,a asked Tris while he waited for Rialla to move.

Rialla looked at him warily. But after another glance at the board, she decided that he wasnat trying to distract her. With a shrug, she moved one of her mushrooms and killed his rat, knocking the piece lightly off the board as she set the mushroom in its place. aWhat do you want to know?a Tris moved a frog and said, aIt takes an unusual Darranian to make a successful mercenary.a Rialla frowned at the game, still unwilling to concede. She poisoned his frog with her other mushroom before she spoke. aLaeth is. . . I suppose aunusuala works as well as anything else. Heas a genuinely nice person who takes great pleasure in shocking people, especially people he doesnat like.

aHeas a decent fighter in practice, and I understand that heas better when the fighting is reala"I stay out of the real battles. Iam a horse trainer, not a soldier . . . or a spy either, for that matter.a Rialla paused to think, and then smiled. aHeas also a diabolically clever practical joker.a She shrugged, uncertain how to proceed.

Tris had waited for her to finish talking before he moved an owl to eat the mushroom that had killed his frog. Without looking up as he took her piece off the board, he said, aI take it that you are friends as well as associates.a Rialla gave him a keen glance and asked, aWhy are you so interested in Laeth?a Again a heavy, mobile eyebrow crept up toward Trisas hairline. aI only met him twice. Both times were under less than ideal circumstances. If Iam going to help you get him out of Westhold, as it looks like weall have to, Iad like to make sure that Iam risking my skin for someone other than the arrogant aristocrat that I met when Karsten was poisoned. So, how well do you know him? Is he a lover, a friend, an acquaintance . . .a aHeas a friend, a good one,a Rialla answered. She looked back at the board, and missed the subtle relaxation of the healeras shoulders that would have told her that her answer was far more important to him than head indicated. aHe wouldnat make a good lovera"heas too much in love with Marri.a aKarstenas wife?a Rialla shifted her wolf an extra square since Tris wasnat paying attention to what she was doing. She nodded her head in response to his question and then explained, aNot that head do anything about it. He was in love with her before she was betrothed to Karsten. When he found out that she was to marry his brother, Laeth left Darran and turned up in Sianim. Marri came to Laethas room to warn him that someone was trying to blame him for the attempted poisoning.a Tris nodded, took Riallaas wolf off the board and replaced it with his fox. Rialla objected hotly to the implicit accusation that she would try and take advantage of his inattention and move extra spaces, a practice that was legal only if your opponent didnat notice what youad done.

Tris crossed his arms and held his position. Pouting, Rialla killed his fox with her remaining mushroom. The rest of the game was mercifully short; Rialla didnat enjoy losing.

RIALLA AWOKE SOMETIME in the middle of the night to the sound of violent pounding on the cottage door. She sat up and waited, unable to leave the bed.

She heard a womanas voice. The words didnat penetrate the door, but the tone was frantic. It was answered by a lower rumble that she assumed was Trisas. A moment later the healer entered the room, followed closely by the small, cloaked figure of the Lady of the Hold.

This time Tris lit the room more conventionally, by lighting a candle with flint and steel and using it to kindle the lamps.

Marri took off her cloak and looked around for somewhere to set it. Finally she simply dropped it to the floor. She looked as though she hadnat slept for several days. Her complexion was gray, and dark circles surrounded her eyes.