aRialla,a Marri said, her voice hoarsely urgent. aLaeth told me that I should come to you if I needed assistance. I donat know who you really are, or what you are doing with Laeth, but I need . . .a She stammered a little. aHe needs help, and I donat have anyone else to go to. Lord Jarroh wants revenge, and heas convinced that Laeth killed my husband.a Rialla nodded and patted the side of her bed. aSit down,a she said briskly. Marri perched on the edge, as far from Rialla as she could.

Tris pulled up his stool and tried to appear innocuous.

aIt doesnat sound like Laeth had much of a chance to tell you anything,a commented Rialla. aLaeth is a good friend of mineaa"she looked pointedly at the distance that Marri had left between thema"anothing more. We were sent from Sianim to prevent the murder of his brother. You can judge our success for yourself.a Rialla shrugged and ran a weary hand through her hair. aI hope Iam more successful at preventing Laethas hanging.a aTheyare not going to hang him; theyare going to draw and quarter him,a said Marri in a small, shaky voice, atomorrow morning.a aWhat?a exclaimed Rialla, throwing her blankets back and jumping to her feet. Trisas hand was there to catch her when her leg failed. aWhatever happened to a afair and deliberate triala?a aLord Jarroh has declared that there isnat any doubt of his guilt. Lord Winterseine will swear he saw Laeth stab my husband,a she replied, shrugging hopelessly. aSo I came to you.a aScorch it,a said Rialla in frustration, ahow in the name of Temris am I going to be able to help him with this plaguing leg?a Tris abandoned his mild demeanor and pushed Rialla back down on the bed, saying, aStay there. Now, miss,a he turned to look at Marri, acan I trust you to keep your tongue to yourself?a Marri nodded mutely.

aWell enough, I suppose,a Tris said, turning to Rialla.

He reached down, pulled his knife and sliced the fresh bandage off her leg. The leaves smelled as bad as the last set head removed. The healeras face was grim as he peeled the dressing away.

aI can heal your leg enough that you can walk on it, but youare chancing your life. If that poison isnat out of your system, it could still kill you,a he said.

aIf itas my time to die, this is a good night for it. Better that than sit idle while Laeth is killed,a replied Rialla briskly.

aYour choice, lady,a acknowledged the healer in formal tones, as if this were a ritual of some kind.

He placed his hands over her leg and closed his eyes. Riallaas leg tingled and went numb, so she could no longer feel the touch of his skin against hers. Her heart rate picked up until her pulse raced as if she were running in terror and she gasped for breath.

His hands glowed orange in the shadows of the night, as if lit by some inner fire. She could hear Marrias gasp but was too distracted to take notice. If he could heal her like this, Tris was definitely not a common magician; everyone knew healing was difficult for wizards.

Tris pulled his hands away, leaving only a half-healed scar on Riallaas leg, saying, aThatas the best I can do and still leave you enough energy to get out of bed.a Experimentally, Rialla got up and flexed her knees to put some strain on her thigh muscles. The leg hurt, but it held under her weight. She flashed a quick smile at Tris and turned to Marri. aWhat do you know about the tower? How is it set up? How many guards are there, and where are they?a Marri looked for a minute at Riallaas leg; the angry red scar was invisible behind the tunic that hung to her calves. aLaeth is being held in the top of the tower.a She closed her eyes, as if it would help her envision the tower more clearly. aThere are four floors on the tower. The lowest level is underground and contains only weapons and supplies that are not being used. There is usually a guard at the stairs that lead down to the weapons room. Besides him on the main floor there are two or three others. The next floor up is where they question the prisoners. They donat always station a guard there, but with a prisoner in the tower there are sure to be several.a Tris grunted and turned to Rialla. aIf I get Laeth out of the tower and back here, can you get your horses? Youall need them to get away.a aWhat do you mean, aIf I get Laeth outa? You arenat planning to do this all yourself, I hope. Laeth and I can buy horses here, or at the next village. Iall come with you,a stated Rialla.

The healer shook his head. aIt will be easier for me to get Laeth out by myself. That healing has tired you more than you apparently yet realize. If Laeth and I have to run ahead of the chase, you wonat have the stamina to make it.

aThe horses are necessary,a he continued. aThere are none to spare in the village. Even if there were, Lord Jarroh is not the most reasonable of men and likely would hold the owners responsible even if you steal the beasts. If you try to make it on foot to Riverfall, which is the closest village, the guards will overtake you before you have traveled half a league. The horses are probably going to be more difficult to get out than Laeth isa"at least he can climb over the wall.a Rialla frowned at him. aWhy are you doing this?a The healer gave her an enigmatic smile and replied, aIf you wish to, you can ascribe it to a hearty dislike of both Lord Jarroh and Lord Winterseine. Given a chance to annoy either or both, Iall take a little danger in exchange.a Rialla had the feeling that it was the best answer she was going to get.

aWhat can I do?a Marri asked.

aJust what you have done,a replied Tris. aIf someone sees you out and about tonight, youall be held responsible for Laethas escape. That is a crime that holds the death penalty as well, even for nobility. If you would like, you can wait here and see him off, then Iall get you back in with no one the wiser.a She looked mutinous but finally nodded her head. Rialla suspected that it was the knowledge that she would be more of a liability than an asset and not any ideas of self-preservation that made Marri agree.

aDo you have any weapons here?a Rialla asked. aThe only thing that I brought with me from Sianim was a knife, and that is in Laethas rooms in the hold.a aAnything my lady desires,a he answered grandly as he walked to the flatboard wall.

He touched it gently, and a section moved in just far enough that he could slide it on hidden tracks behind the rest of the wall, revealing a small closet. A packing trunk occupied most of the floor, but the rest of the closet was dedicated to weaponry, most of it projectile weapons.

Rialla shot Tris a look under her eyebrows. aIt looks like a poacheras dream come true. I always thought healers were law-abiding citizens.a He shrugged. aI havenat always been a healer. Poaching has become a favored hobby of late. Most of this is useless for combat, but there should be a knife or two and I think that there might even be a sword.a There was a sword, heavier than Rialla was used to wielding, but it would work. She had to borrow one of Trisas belts so she could wear the sword sheathed. She struggled with the braided leather before finally wrapping it twice around her waist. The sheath was too high for an easy draw, but she couldnat afford to be too particular.

She also borrowed a dark-colored tunic and trousers since her slaveas garb was too light-colored to skulk around in effectively. Although everything was too big, a few lengths of rope tied here and there, as well as Trisas belt, made the outfit workable.

Tris took a wicked-looking staff, as tall as he and studded at both ends with metal points, and pulled the door back into place. Even knowing that it was there, Rialla couldnat detect any sign of the door once it was closed.

Rialla followed Tris out the door, leaving Marri alone in the bedroom.

The workshop was as busy as the bedroom was spartan. Large windows were cut into the three outer walls, letting in the dim light of the waning moon. All of the wall space not devoted to windows was covered with shelves of various sizes, which were in turn stacked with neatly labeled clay and wooden containers. So many bundles of plants hung from the ceiling that it looked like a jungle, and Tris had to bend his head to avoid the flora.

Once out the door, Tris motioned her behind the cottage where the woods began.

aThereas a path to the hold through here,a he explained shortly.

Rialla concentrated on her footing until they reached the better surface of the path. aHow are you going to get Laeth out?a aSubtlety and a bit of magic,a he replied. aHave you thought about the horses?a Rialla nodded. aIall get them out through the heraldas gate.a aWithout alerting the guards?a he asked.

She smiled at him. aYou do your part, let me worry about mine.a They quit speaking then. Rialla wished she had taken the time to find where their horses were in the stables, but shead been too intent on maintaining the appearance of a slave.

They reached the wall of the hold before she was ready. It loomed high over their heads, more of Karstenas improvements. Rialla ran her hands over the freshly cut pale blocks of stone, fingering the edges. The wall was meant to keep back armies, but it was unfinished. Small gaps between the stones made the wall as easy to climb as a ladder. Rialla raised her hands and got a firm grip in preparation to climb.

aWait,a said Tris in a soft voice that wouldnat carry to anyone who happened to be on the other side of the wall. aYour red hair makes you too identifiable. Stay a moment, and Iall take care of it.a She released her hold on the wall and took a step nearer to the healer. He touched her hair lightly and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked closely at her and then nodded. Rialla pulled a strand of her hair to where she could see it, then let the dark-colored mane fall back to her shoulder.

aIllusion,a he said. aSimple, but it will hold for the night.a Rialla nodded, and began again to climb; Tris chose another section of wall and did the same. On top Rialla noted that the catwalks that were meant to run the entire length of the wall hadnat yet been built herea"making the descent a simple climb down the inner side of the wall.

Once on the ground they were much safer. Although it was still too early in the morning for much activity, it would be easy enough to come up with a reason for legitimate occupants of the castle to be wandering around in the darkness.

aIall get the horses and meet you at your home,a suggested Rialla softly.

Tris nodded, and replied in a voice as quiet as hers, aThat is as good a place as any. If Iam not back before dawn, take the woman and go to Sianim. Luck be with you, dancer.a He turned toward the tower.

aAnd with youaa"she wasnat sure why she added the next worda"ashapechanger.a He stopped in his tracks, spinning to look at her. For an instant she saw a glimpse of something . . . wilder in his face. But it was only for an instant, and then he was scowling at her with laughing eyes. aYou know so much of shapechangers you can name me so on such short acquaintance?a Rialla shrugged and said easily, aThe woman who taught me how to play Steal the Dragon is rumored to be a shapechanger. She calls it Taefil Ma Deogh.a Rialla knew that she couldnat twist her tongue around the syllables so that they sounded correctly, but she thought that Tris would get the point. aSheas never said that she was a shapeshifter, but sheas never denied it either. Iave also been around human mages long enough to know that healing is not something that human magic works well on.a aI am not a human wizard,a he acknowledged. aNor am I a shapechanger, though my people are distant kin. Taefil Ma Deogh is a very old game, and well known amongst us.a aWhat are you then?a she asked.

Again he shook his head. aNothing that you would know. We have been too few for too long. If we live through this night, perhaps Iall tell you about my people.a Rialla turned on her heel and began stalking in the general direction of the stables, murmuring to herself, aIf that man makes one more cryptic remark, he may not live through this night.a She decided she would look more suspicious if she tried to sneak around, so she strode boldly past the makeshift pens that had been erected to house the animals of the lesser nobles. There was a pair of guards making their rounds, but they paid her little heed.

By the time she reached the main stable, she was perspiring from fear and vowing never to do anything other than train horses again. Before she entered, she drew a deep breath.

Horses were empathic themselves. If she walked in feeling fear, it was bound to cause an uproar in a stable full of warhorses. Rialla closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath of horse- and hay-scented air, trying to pretend she was in one of the barns at Sianim.

Rialla knew the general layout of the stables from her earlier visit. There were stalls along both outer walls and small loose pens in the center. The tack was set in the middle of the aisle between the stalls and the pens, far enough away from either that the horses couldnat nibble at the sweat-salted leather. Rialla suspected the pens were where shead find their horses, since generally the stalls would be assigned to the hold animals.

The stable was dark inside, and Rialla waited just inside the door, hoping her eyes would adjust to the darkness. A few of the horses nearest to her began shifting as they noticed her unfamiliar presence. Carefully she extended her empathic touch to them, reassuring them that she meant them no harm.

When her vision had gotten as adjusted as it was going to, Rialla stepped forward cautiously until she rested her hand on the top bar of the inner pen. The horses were only darker shadows in the night. Rialla counted on her empathy to help her find the right animals. Rialla had herself trained Laethas gelding, Stoutheart, though not the mare shead ridden here. She could have taken the first horses she came to, but both of the Sianim animals were conditioned and of high quality.

Most of the horses ignored her, resting comfortably in the clean straw bed. An aged gray mare walked with Rialla the length of her pen, hoping for an apple. Rialla rubbed the mareas cheekbone where it itched and silently apologized for coming without a treat.

Her horses were in a pen near the end of the barn. The mare stood in a three-footed doze, but Stoutheart whickered softly in greeting. By touch Rialla located saddles and bridles, then readied the horses while they were still in their pen.

Leading the horses out quietly required Rialla to send out a constant reassuring babble to all of the horses they passed, and she released a sigh of relief when she finally made it out of the building.

There was only one way to get horses out of the hold. The main entrance was kept shut and barred at night, but on the other side of the gatehouse was the heraldas gate. The gate was actually a narrow tunnel through the base of the wall, designed to allow the passage of messengers when the main gates were closed. Heavy metal doors, locked and barred, were set into the wall at either end of the tunnel.

Rialla was able to lead the horses unseen along the wall, due more to luck than any skill on her part. When they neared the gatehouse, Rialla extended her senses and found each of the guards on duty there and on the nearby wall. If they had been alert and ready for trouble, she would have had to find another way; but they were bored and drowsy. It only took a nudge to send them over into a sound sleep.

She yawned herself before leaving the horses waiting while she searched the guards until she found a large ring of keys.

Rialla opened the first door and continued through the tunnel to open the outside door as well; it would be easier to convince the horses to enter the tunnel if they could see the light on the other side. As she stepped into the tunnel, she noticed that the floor was covered with a metal grating suspended over the ground by a pair of heavy wooden beams. Getting the horses across it was going to be quite a feat of persuasiona"and loud in the bargain.

The mare put her front feet into the opening, but backed up quickly at the strange sound of her metal-shod hooves on the grating. The whites of her eyes gleamed in the darkness and her ears were flattened with displeasure. Even with Riallaas gift, the mare wouldnat budge.

Sending soothing thoughts, Rialla backed the mare away and tied her reins high on her neck so that she wouldnat trip on them. Though the mare wasnat trained for a verbal command to stay, as the gelding was, her instincts would keep her near the other horse.

Rialla had tried the mare first because she was smaller. Even throwing the stirrups across the back of the saddle to reduce the geldingas width, she was afraid that the bigger horseas barrel was going to rub the sides of the tunnel all of the way through.

When Rialla led Stoutheart to the mouth of the tunnel, he dropped his nose and blew a puff of air at the strange floor. Using her empathy and soft coaxing sounds to encourage him, she took a step back, tugging once on the rein and then relaxing the pressure.

The gelding put a foot tentatively on the metal floor, flattening his ears at the odd sound as well as the slight flexing of the grate. But Rialla had trained him, and he trusted her to know what would hurt him and what was safe. Deciding that the floor was going to hold his weight, he followed her almost placidly. When he reached the far side, he found a small patch of grass and began to eat.

She commanded him to stay, and started back to the tunnel. Before she reached the opening, the mare bolted through, clanking and snorting, anxious to rejoin her companion.

The open door was sure to send searchers out as soon as the guards woke up enough to notice it. If she closed it and got out over the wall, it could be dawn before anyone realized that Laeth was gone. There was work currently being done on the wall here as well, and the scaffolding on the outside would offer an easy enough method for exiting the hold.

Rialla slipped back through the tunnel, locking the doors behind her. She tucked the key ring back into the guardas pocket and started over the wall.

Unlike the part of the wall that shead crossed to get into the hold, here there was a newly built, though obviously temporary, catwalk. The guard who slept on the newly constructed stone stairway shifted uneasily as Rialla started up the stairs. He was a veteran, and not one to sleep on duty no matter how tedious. She turned back to the base of the stairs and reinforced her suggestion to give her time to get over the wall before he woke up.

Just as she lowered her protective barriers to project sleep onto the guards again, someone nearby died in an unpleasant, terrifying manner. Rialla tried to shut it out, but was unable to stop before shead projected what shead felt. She heard the guards cry out with their comradeas death throes. So much for escaping unnoticed.

She would have sworn if there had been time for it.

The first guard who saw her and attacked was inexperienced, and slowed her only minimally as she staggered for the stairway, and left him to wake up with a headache in the morning.

Before she could gain the stairway, where the veteran soldier waited patiently, two more guards came out of the gatehouse. They moved apart to flank her, one quickly climbing the first few stairs to gain the advantage of height. She ran directly at the one on the stairs, then quickly changed direction, ducking under the stroke the other guard had intended for her back.

Failing to find the anticipated target for his sword, he lurched forward, trying desperately to regain his balance. Using a neat backhand, Rialla hit him on the head with the pommel of her sword and flashed a bright smile as she turned to face the second guard, still standing on the third stair.

He had obviously expected an easy victory and stood peering at the still, silent shadow of his associate. He quickly shifted his attention to Rialla and began to descend. Before he could close with her, she set him on his backside by sweeping his feet out from under him with the flat of her blade. She didnat have to knock him outa"he did it himself. Breathing harshly, Rialla ran up several steps to face the warrior who waited for her there.

The first three men had been inexperienced, and unaware of what they were facing. This man had watched her take out his comrades and knew that she was Sianim-traineda"it didnat take Rialla long to discover that he was too.

He was good, but she was better, just not enough better that she could get behind him and knock him unconscious. Several times she could have wounded him fatally, but she couldnat force herself to take the opening and end it. Not because she was overly squeamish, but because she remembered what it felt like to kill a man when her empathy was barely functional. She had no intention of killing when her gift was working well.

If she killed this one, there was a fair probability that the act would kill her too. She already had a thundering headache thanks to the three prone forms strewn behind her.

The guard knew as well as she did that she was the better swordsman, and she could feel him thinking of the fate that would fall to his family if he died. His young wife had just given birth to their first child. The widow of a guardsman would have no one to care for her, and he worried.

She might be the better swordsman, but he was stronger than she was and she was beginning to feel a deep wearinessa"perhaps the effect of Trisas healing, as he had warned. If she did not finish this fight soon, she might not win it.

Her face grim with concentration, she began to force the guard backward up the stairs. While she fought, she reached out lightly and touched the presence that she knew to be Trisa"later she would wonder why she found him easier than Laeth.

Sweat trickled down her neck, and she worried that she wouldnat have the stamina to do what she was going to try. The guard reached the top step, and stumbled when he reached for a higher step that wasnat there.

He caught himself quickly, but his stumbling gave Rialla a chance to press home her advantage, until both of them were on the battlement. The wooden boards of the walk creaked underfoot. If they fought too long, someone would look over and see them.

She waited anxiously for Tris to leave the hold, aware that her thigh was beginning to show definite signs of weakening. Her sword arm ached with the force of the guardas blows. He was starting to believe that he might face another day, though he was puzzled that she hadnat finished him when he stumbled over the nonexistent step.

The wall was crenelated to allow archers to fire through the low sections and dodge back behind the higher merlon. Though the top of the wall was well over Riallaas head, the crenels were only hip high. When she knew that Tris, hopefully towing Laeth behind him, was safely out of the castle, she feinted. The guard drew back, giving her the room she needed to jump onto the crenel wall and, in a step, over the other side, landing some distance below, on the slanted platform of the scaffolding.

She slid and stumbled to the ground and called Stoutheart to her by focusing her gift. Only when she was mounted and heading for the cover of the woods did she look to see if the guardsman had followed her leap. Seeing no one, she assumed that he had realized that his heavy mail shirt would hamper his leap, and had retreated to sound a warning.

The clear tones of the alarm bells followed her into the woods.

FIVE.

After Rialla left for the stables, Tris made his way carefully through the courtyard, taking advantage of each bit of cover as if he were stalking game in the forest. He was too well known at Westhold to strike out boldly as Rialla had, but stealth was second nature to him, and his progress was only minimally slower than hers. He was amused to discover that he was enjoying the challenge of this adventure as much as a boy half his age.

The tallest structure at Westhold, the tower stood midway between the hold wall and the keep, overshadowing the squat structure of the nearby guardhouse. It was half again as high as the great wall. Although the tower was older than any other structure in the keep, having been part of the main building of the original fortress, the ancient stones still rested squarely where they had been placed.

He was crouched in the shadow of the guardhouse when the sound of menas voices caused Tris to freeze where he was. He kept his breathing shallow and his body still against the rough-finished wooden wall as three guardsmen passed close to him. Too close for Tris, who wrinkled his nose at the sour smell. He waited until they were safely inside their living quarters before he moved from the darkness and crossed the short open area that separated the tower from the guardhouse.

There was no door into the tower, only a wide opening onto the main floor. One guard stood just inside the door, staring at the night. He was a young man, with the nervous air of a green recruit. His hand rested on the wooden hilt of his sword, clasping and unclasping slowly.

Tris called to his magic, humming under his breath to lend power to his summons. When the magic came, he pulled it around him in a curtain of silence and shadows. He slipped cautiously between the guard and the edge of the aperture.

The inner room of the tower was cramped and bare; the high ceilings made it appear almost empty. It was lit by a number of slow-burning torches that sent shadows dancing against the gray stone walls.

In the center of the room was a circular stone pillar with another doorless entrance, through which Tris could see a narrow, winding stair reaching upward. Just past the central stairway, a man, obviously more experienced than his fellow guardsman, sat on the floor, leaning against the banister of a descending staircase. Patiently he ran a stone in small circles against the edge of a knife blade.

Tris followed the wall, moving slowly to put the stone of the wide pillar between himself and the older guard. He froze motionless when the man looked up and stared directly at him, some instinct alerting him that the atmosphere of the room had changed.

aNar!a called the younger guard. aThereas something outside.a The veteran sighed, laying aside his honing stone. He rolled lightly to his feet and walked without hurry to the younger manas post. Tris took advantage of the guardas distraction to sprint across the room and into the safety of the enclosure that housed the central stair.

The surface of the staircase was worn unevenly, and he was glad of his soft-bottomed shoes that allowed him to feel his way. The twisted stone steps and the enclosing stone walls made Tris, who preferred wood to stone and open air to either, feel uneasily confined.

As the ceilings were high, it took two revolutions of the stairs before another doorless aperture opened into the second floor. From what Tris could see of it, the dimly lit chamber seemed to be a duplicate of the one below. Faint light entered the room from window slits near the ceiling, but most of the light seemed to be coming from a small oil lamp.

A guard sat at his ease on a bench placed near the outer wall. He was carving a small piece of wood by the lamplight. The lamp itself sat on the arm of a chair equipped with thick leather straps. The room was littered with devices of various sorts needed for apersuasion.a Tris continued up the stairs, which narrowed until there was less than a hand span between Trisas shoulders and the stone wall. The last light from the rooms below faded until even Trisas acute night vision ceased to be of service and he climbed by feel alone.

The stairway ended with a trapdoor set into the wooden floor of the upper level, which Tris discovered by slamming his head into it. His spell was sufficient to absorb the noise, but it didnat help the knot on his head. He felt around the edges of the door with his hands until he found the simple wooden latch and released it, catching the door before it hit his head a second time.

Climbing the last few stairs, Tris arrived in a very small circular room. He stepped onto the floor and pulled the trapdoor shut behind him. There was a latch on the upper side as well, though this one was made so a strong pull from below would break it.

Satisfied that the door was securely closed, Tris divested himself of both shadows and silence and called a magelight to allow him to see.

Four oaken doors, heavily barred and framed with iron, stood at regular intervals in the wall of the room. He opened his mouth to call out, but shut it before a sound escaped.

There was no reason to assume that Laeth was the only one imprisoned in the tower. The less noise that he made finding the Darranian the better off they would be.

Tris moved to the first door and set his forehead against the wood. Stone was cold and dead to him, but wood was like an old friend. When he asked, the oak gave up its secrets to him, allowing him to descry what lay hidden behind the door.

The first room was empty, and Tris moved on to the next. As he lifted his hand, the magic in the cool metal reached out to him. A human mage had ensorcelled the locks; no green mage could have done such a thing with iron.

The magic was so foreign to Tris that he couldnat even discern its nature. He could tell that the magician hadnat tainted the oak with his spell. Laying his forehead against the old wood, he alookeda inside.

If it wasnat Laeth, it was someone of his height and weight wearing the clothes of a noble. He was shackled hand and foot. He must have put up quite a fight, judging from the care someone had taken that he not be able to move more than a finger.

Tris placed his open hand on the door and sang softly in his own language. With a soft, sighing sound, as if it were very tired, the wood disintegrated into a pile of sawdust, leaving both the lock and the metal structure that had framed the door intact.

Laeth looked up at the light too quickly, and had to duck his head into his shoulder to wipe his eyes free of the light-induced tears.

For all that Laeth was a useless Darranian noble chained hand and foot, he was still a trained warrior. Tris had dealt with enough predators in his life to know that they were at their most defensive when they were trapped. It would, he decided, be wise to wait until Laeth knew that he was a friend before attempting to remove the bindings.