"Official?"

Deymorin nodded.

"You saw the documents?"

"I'm not that ignorant. Barrister. She signed them."

"Forgery?"

"That scrawl of hers? Possible. Not likely. Who would dare?"

"Lidye?"

Nikki twitched.

"To gain what?" Deymorin asked.

"Time?"

"If Anheliaa's dead, who's to argue?"

"If Anheliaa's not dead?"

Deymorin opened his mouth. Closed it again.

"Those letters held words, Deymorin. Things I'd swear only Anheliaa would know."

"Clues?"

"Only to their authenticity."

"Would she have passed those keys on to Lidye?"

"I wouldn't think so. It was . . . our code."

"You didn't say anything about that before."

Mikhyel shrugged.

"What other secrets are you keeping, Mikhyel?"

"What other secrets are you keeping, Deymorin?"

Deymorin frowned. There would always be secrets. But in the end, only one thing mattered.

"Trust me?" he asked.

"Absolutely. Trust me?"

Deymorin waited for some pressurereassurance or pressure to complyto manifest underneath, but Mikhyel had placed the cold wall between them. Trust him. Or don't trust him.

"Absolutely," Deymorin echoed him.

"I believed, Deymorin, that those clues indicated she was alive. I still do. But Ferricci's men are worrisome."

"They're in charge."

"Obviously. Their orders?"

"Signed by Anheliaa," Deymorin said. "Not unreason- able. When the city panicked, the Constabulary would need all the help it could get."

"Did you ask Oshram about the power umbrella?"

"The whole city went dark for three days. He said that when the lights came back, the Khoratum expansion re- mained dark, and that afterward, the dark started creeping inward from the old wall."

"As if the web were deteriorating."

Deymorin shrugged.

"The Khoratum expansion again . . ." Mikhyel mur- mured, and he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, one hand cupping his chin.

"What are you thinking?"

"Boreton is on the Khoratum line . . . If the web is deteriorating . . . But you said the sky was clear over the old wall."

"As far as I could see. I wouldn't trust my analytic preci- sion. There were just a few distractions at the time."

"Granted. But what if the Khoratum line was actually damaged. I mean, physically, there near Boreton. Could that account for what we're seeing?"

"You're asking me?"

"Sorry." Mikhyel gave a wry chuckle. "And our arrest?

It wasn't the identity papers. Not considering everything else."

"I still don't know. Oshram's been cut out. But he said that Ferricci men have been bringing in one poor sod after another vaguely matching our descriptions, on a variety of charges, generally unfounded, and always dropped within a day. That was one reason he took so long to get down here."

"We guessed wrong," Mikhyel stated the obvious, still in an undertone, but louder, that inner sense gone suddenly blank. "They've expected us to try to sneak into the City."

"They? Who? Who the hell do you think is in charge here?"

"Anheliaa. Lidye. Tarim. What difference does it make who wants us out of the way? We know Anheliaa hired at least one man to kill you; perhaps there were others. We thought that danger minimal, that there was enough at stake she'd at least listen first. But what if we were wrong?

That man who pushed me down the stairs . . . What if that wasn't an accident?"

"And she dropped us in here to disappear? We'll just have to disappoint her, now won't we?"

"Her? Anheliaa? or Lidye?"

"I'd as soon disappoint them both."

Mikhyel's mouth twitched. "I've no inclination to argue with that. We've got to get a message out. I've got people, JD. People I trust."

"I know. Barrister. Oshram's grandson is going to try. I decided Raulind would be best to contact. And the boy's just asking him to come here."

Mikhyel agreed with a nod and a slight smile. An image crept through, a sense of absolute trust in the man who had been companion and servant to Mikhyel since Mheric's death. The depth of that faith came as something of a sur- prise to Deymorin, but confirmed his choice.

"Any of my people will recognize Raul," Mikhyel said.

"He'll get someone here to help."

"I'm counting on it," Deymorin answered. "Nikki?"

"Who?" Nikki gave a grossly exaggerated start. "Oh . . .

me. Sorry. I'd forgotten I was here. Yes?"

"Stop it, Nikki."

"Sorry. Thought I was injecting a little humor," Nikki spoke out loud, apparently making no attempt at their pri- vate conversation. "Lightening the mood, you know."

"And horses have wings. We can tell differently, boy."

"So you claim."

"What do you mean?"

"I meano eldest brother who hears my every thought I hardly hear you at alleither of you. Even now, half the time you are a buzz. How do I know you can 'tell differ- ently'? How do I know you're both not just willfully misun- derstanding what I say just to give yourselves the excuse of not considering my opinions? What about my resources?

Why Raulind? Why not Jerri? Because Jerri is my man?

Because Jerri is just a boy, like me? A selfish fool, like me"? You never used to think such disgusting things of me, but you've got each other now, haven't you? You don't need me anymore, so you can insult me, and you can insult my friends, and accuse my wife and her father, and ignore me because I don't matter, do I?" Nikki was on his feet, the words flowing from him, rising to a shout, unchecked by any real thought. "Nikki's just a problem. Nikki's just a boy who doesn't understand . . . anything. Go to the closet, Nikki. Get out of the way, Nikki. Let big brother take care of everything, Nikki."

Deymorin thrust himself to his feet, buried his fist in Nikki's fancy coat and shoved his brother up against the stone. He filled his own mind with the need for caution and the inmates closing in, and Deymorin's fist laying Nikki out cold if he didn't damn well shut up, then thrust that image toward Nikki.

Let him claim he didn't hear that one.

Mikhyel cried out. Nikki's face went white. And Dey- morin experienced a moment of contrition. But they couldn't afford the delicacy of genteel behavior here. Better that Nikki learned it from him now than from Ganfrion a week from now.

"Let him go now, Deymio." Mikhyel was beside them, his hand on Deymorin's arm. "You've made your point."

{So has Nikki.} Deymorin's anger faded, his arm relaxed, almost without his willing it, and Nikki slipped free. This time, when Nikki sat down, he sat alone. Mikhyel leaned against the stone, rubbing his temples.

Headache. And Nikki was still pale. And not half an hour ago, Mikhyel had stopped him in his trackswith a thought.

Damn, they were fools. Deymorin sighed, and slid back into his former spot. In conceding to Mikhyel's privacy, just how much potentialfor good and illhad they overlooked?

In the first few days following Boreton, he and Nikki had played games with the link, trying to determine its limits.

They'd decided it was more curiosity than value.

They weren't playing games any longer. And in retro- spect, Deymorin realized that any test that did not include Mikhyel was no test at all.

"Nikki," Mikhyel said softly, "did you recognize the man who arrested us?"

Nikki just looked confused.

"Sironi, Nikki. Sironi gorTarim."

Awareness dawned in Nikki's face and in the underneath sense, and a moment of embarrassment that he hadn't no- ticed. Then Nikki's jaw set stubbornly. "So. Lidye's father's man. That means it's my fault we're here, I suppose. I mar- ried the wrong woman, too. Let's see, what else can we blame on Nikki?"

"Is that what you truly believe, Nikaenor?" Deymorin asked. "That we blame everything on you? That we con- sider you and your perceptions unimportant?"

"Yes!" Sulky tone. Hurt. While underneath Nikki radi- ated absolute conviction to the contrary, colored with a blatant desire to hear Deymorin admit as much.

And suddenly, Deymorin was tired of Nikki's childish notions, tired of giving little brother Nikki the benefit of every doubt. Tired of treading daintily past Nikki's vulnera- ble ego.

"Fine," he replied bluntly. "You're wrong, of course, but you know that. You know you're actually quite important.

You're Lidye's husband. A Rhomandi. Whether the Rho- mandi or not, makes no difference to Lidye. Or to Anhe- haa. Your existence grants Lidye validity."

"They don't need me anymore. Lidye's carrying my child! That's the only Rhomandi they need!"

"And if it dies? What if it doesn't even exist? Wake up, Nikki. How could they know? Anheliaa's hoping Lidye's pregnant, but she still needs youjust in case she's mis- taken. Mikhyel knew that. I did. We granted you the dig- nity of assuming that you realized it as well. Apparently we were mistaken."

Nikki opened his mouth to protest; Deymorin ignored him.

"If it makes you feel special to believe you're the victim of some gross conspiracy on our part to cut you out, there's little I can say, is there? Moreover, there's nothing I care say."

Shock. Frustration. Confusion. But nothing of hurt. Noth- ing of shame or self-evaluation. That would come laterif Nikki were indeed the man Deymorin believed him to be.

Nikki glowered at him, at Mikhyel, then back at him.

Deymorin ignored him. Mikhyel's barrister face was sol- idly in place.

Without warning, Nikki flung himself to his feet and stalked off into the dark. Mikhyel started to follow, but Deymorin raised a hand to stop him. Old resentments flared, differences of opinion regarding how to handle Nikki.

{Curse you, Deymorin, you know what's out there!} {Sometimes, Barrister, you've got to take the risk. If he

needs us, he can damnwell call.}

And you could have kept those names to yourself!} The damage was done. Nikki had already} Nikki's a boy) Nikki can't afford to be a boy. Not any longer.}