"Come in with you."

"By whim of Rakshi."

"From the hills, then."

"Long ago, m'friend. Very long ago. You?"

"Orenum, born and raised."

"But if the boy's crime were committed under the cir- cumstances you describe," Mikhyel persisted, "he'd have had a valid defense. He shouldn't be... in..."

All the surrounding locals were staring at him now, and Ganfrion shot him a look that said in no uncertain terms that it was time to depart. And even as he muttered a purposefully unintelligible pardon and laid a coin on the counter, Ganfrion's look shifted To one of recognitionand outrage.

"Now I know you!" Ganfrion cried. "Mekh'narumin bas- tard! Where's my sisterT'

Mikhyel had only an instant to register the fist flying toward his face A second to fling himself backward Into the middle of a dice game.

Dice fiew. Curses did; and coins and notes. And then fists, feet and bodies. Appalled at the chaos he'd inadver- tently wrought, Mikhyel dodged one way and another, his actions utterly lacking in conscious purpose. He stumbled and rebounded, tossed from one melee to another, but none of those flying fists intercepted him. Somehow Gan- frion invariably appeared between him and the worst. Pro- tecting, he suddenly realized. Giving him the opportunity to escape.

Mikhyel took a step toward the door, and another A shoutan answerand as one, angry eyes turned on him, and as one, the mob swirled inward, with himself as the eye of the storm.

Panic struck. He bolted for the door, though a cold part of him knew he had no chance, and called him a fool. A hand clasped his shoulder and spun him around. His arms lifted, childhood instincts striving to protect his head, but this time, his opponent wasn't Nikki, or even Mheric.

His guard was swept ruthlessly aside.

This time, he never even saw the fist.

Chapter Two.

"And today, Mikhyel plans to go directly to Giephaetum."

Nikki completed his explanation of yesterday afternoon's revelations. "But he can't do it all. Deymorin can't. They didn't say anything, but there must be something we can do about this situation in the south."

Kiyrstin was sitting back in her chair, elbows propped on the arms, her breeched and booted legs crossed, chin bal- anced on steepled fingers. She'd come directly from the stables, never pausing except to wash her hands and face and to exchange her riding coat for a house robe.

He certainly couldn't accuse her of indifference to Rho- matum's situation. She'd been in Armayel yesterday, when his brothers spoke to him, visiting the Mauritumin boy, Alizant. He'd debated whether to send for her, and finally, late that morning and at Lidye's insistence, he'd sent a mes- senger asking her to return to Rhomatum.

No more than that: just a request to return.

And on no more than that, she'd returned immediately, riding, with a minimum escortand arrived before dinner.

For a woman who had never straddled a horse before she encountered Deymorin, he had to admit, she did . . .

all right.

And she'd listened to him. Without comment. Without condemnation.

Kiyrstin's eyes flickered to Lidye. Speculating.

"How long have you known?" She asked Lidye, not him.

"Long enough," Lidye answered calmly.

Which left Nikki utterly confused. "Known what?"

"About your silent communication with your brothers, Nikki." Lidye smiled, a brief, quirky, near-grin, at Kiyrstin.

"She's trying to figure what else I know, what I've told my family, whether or not I can be trusted. Am I right, lady romGaretti?"

Kiyrstin dipped her head ever so slightly. But Nikki still suspected there was a different sort of silent communication going on in the room, leaving him as ignorant as his broth- ers could.

"If you don't mind, ladies," he said defensively, "may we please speak freely? This is nonsense. Of course Lidye can be trusted."

Kiyrstin's green eyes flickered to him, a frown tightening her brow.

"Nikki, my dear," Lidye said, "thank you, but there is no 'of course' about it. There is a great need for you all to be absolutely certain where a woman of the Southern Cres- cent who is now in charge of the Rhomatum Rings stands."

Kiyrstin's eyes flicked back to Lidye.

"Kiyrstin," Lidye said, "If I may call you that"

Kiyrstin nodded. A quick, irritated motion.

"I won't endeavor to convince you one way or the other.

Trust comes not from words, but from actions over time. I have not, since Nikki returned to me, spoken with anyone in my family, nor" She lifted her hand as though fore- stalling Kiyrstin's unspoken argument. "Nor have I sent messages of any sort. Not to my family, nor to anyone in Shatum. That is, I suspect, why there is some unrest there now. I hesitated to mention the matter, because I knew there was much distrust of me already. I'd hoped to prove myself somehow before it became an issue."

Kiyrstin . . . grunted. There was no other expression for the sound she made. "Then I suggest," she said firmly, "that we call these Shatumin dissidents' bluff."

"Hub?" Nikki said, once again utterly lost.

"She means, Nikki, that we should invite them here, to the Tower."

"Them?"

"My father. The Kirish'lani, Orakan, also, if we can. The forces opposed to the expansion . . . the Varishmandi, for one. And the Khandirri. I . . . know the names, Nikki."

Kiyrstin's mouth twitched. He thought, perhaps, in a smile.

"We will explain to them that we know their plans,"

Lidye continued. "And their wishes. That I am not their pawn, and that Anheliaa's promises notwithstanding, now is not the time to proceed with the southern expansion. We will make it clear to them that we understand their desire for the expansion, that we see full well the advantages to them, and that we do not outright begrudge them those advantages, but since they made those agreements in secret and with Anheliaa, we do not feel obliged to honor them."

"And then, see what they do? Once they know we are, without question, united in our immediate goals. Is that what you're suggesting?"

Lidye and Kiyrstin both nodded.

"And we'd do this, the three of us?"

This time, the two women looked long and hard at one another, in that mysterious, insightful way of women. And just when Nikki was about to interrupt: "Well?" Lidye asked, and Kiyrstin said: "Which of us is going to write the letter to Orakan?"

~ 8 ~.

The smell that greeted Mikhyel upon his return to con- sciousness was enough to drive him back to the darkness.

But damp cold on his face and a rough, low-voiced com- mand denied him that retreat.

Lumps, of indeterminate density, dug into his spine. The surface beneath him shifted with his weight, creaked and groaned in protest, and his heel, when he strove to ease the pressure under one hip, burst through that unidentified substance to strike solid wood below.

"Hold still, idiot," the rough voice muttered, and pulled the foot back to level with the rest of him, though the (one hazarded a guess) bed now had a decided list.

Memory returned in a rush, putting face to the voice, and identity to the fist that had knocked him cold. He cursed and swiped hand and rag aside, then tried to swing his legs free.

But a wave of nausea and the snap of another supporting strap quickly changed his mind.

"Damn. Nothing for it. Suds. Hold steady or I'll put your lights out again." And before he could object, Ganfrion had grabbed him under the shoulders and knees and heaved him free. One glance behind him assured him he needed no closer acquaintance with the object upon which he'd lain.

"Where are we?"

"Not in Ramblin' Rosie's. What more do you want?"

Mikhyel granted, worked his jaw, and grabbed the rag from the floor. The water in the basin beside the . . . bed did not bear any closer examination than the rest of the room, but it was cool, and the rag, when rinsed and squeezed dripless, did provide some relief to the swelling on his lip.

The only other piece of furniture in the room, a rough chair beside the teetering bedside table, appeared at least as capable of supporting his weight as his knees currently were. He sat, rather more abruptly than he intended.

Ganfrion, arms akimbo, leaned against the wall. Waiting.

Tempting, to lose his temper, to blame the man for step- ping above his place, to say that "anything" did not include breaking your employer's jaw.

Particularly after setting him up.

"You knew, didn't you?" he asked, holding his temper in check.

"About Pobriichi?"

Mikhyel just stared. Ganfrion shrugged, but in that, con- firmed Mikhyel's belief that he knew full well that he'd set his employer up with a potentially lethal story.

"Who were those men?"

"Giephaetum watchdogs."

"To watch for strangers. Like us."

"Like you, yes."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why didn't I warn you? Why didn't I pre- pare you a pretty little story without any holes? Something you could spout like an actor repeating lines in a play?"

Ganfrion lurched free of the wall, scowling. "Because this isn't a damned play. Suds, get that through your thick aris- tocratic skull. No matter how good a story you start out with, you play it simple, you play it ambiguous until you know the local climate. You think you're so damned clever, so superior to us. You think a little half-assed instruction is all you needed to survive in places I've spent a lifetime learning to tread. You've no damn business invading my world."

Mikhyel clenched his teeth, but that only hurt his jaw.

He'd argue the man's final pointhe didn't think Ganfrion had been born to that world any more than he had been but resentment for perceived disrespect . . . that Mikhyel could appreciate.

And yet: "How do I know you didn't set the whole thing up?"

"You don't."

Moreover, Ganfrion wasn't about to defend himself. Mi- khyel either took the lesson at face value, or he challenged Ganfrion's domain again. And next time, he doubted Gan- frion would be there to pick up the pieces.

On the other hand: You play it simple, play it ambiguous until you know . . .

And he remembered Ganfrion's adroit exchange, in which he'd never made a committed statement, but had led the conversation into revealing significant information.

And perhaps he hadn't known any more than he'd told Mikhyel. He had, after all, spent some months in Sparin- gate. Perhaps he hadn't set his intrusive employer up. Cer- tainly, the new cuts on Ganfrion's hands and face hadn't been planned. And they'd been gained saving Ganfrion's employer's . . . thick aristocratic skull.

It wasn't just the invasion of his world Ganfrion resented.

It was the betrayal of trust. Ganfrion had declared his com- mitment to his mission in that mad run to Shatum and back. To bring Mikhyel what he believed to be vital infor- mation, he'd spent himself, and his horsesas bitter a sacri- fice for him, Mikhyel suspected, as it would have been for Deymorin or for Nikki.

And Mikhyel had thrown that commitment and sacrifice in his face when he had insisted on this personal validation of that information. Never mind Mikhyel knew he'd used Ganfrion and Rosie's not because he disbelieved Ganfrion, but as an opportunity to break his own moldin pursuing a silly fantasy, he'd risked his real window into this grimy otherworld. And in risking Ganfrion, he'd risked the mis- sion, and the future of the web.

He looked down at the rag in his hands, hands that, despite the dirt, didn't belong here. Nothing could elimi- nate the indentations around joints that had worn rings for years, nothing could create scars overnight. Inside or out.

His, or Ganfrion's.

Whether or not Ganfrion had been born to this world, he'd learned to tread here safely, as Mikhyel had learned to tread the strange paths of his father's associates.

By his record, this was not the first time Ganfrion had had his extended loyalty betrayed. It was the key, the elu- sive quality he'd sensed in those records, but had not been able to elucidate.

He'd told Deymorin he didn't trust Ganfrion's honor.

He'd been wrong.

"I'm only going to say this once," he said, in a voice tight with embarrassment. "So listen well. I apologize for tonight. It was an insult to your sacrifice, your loyalty, and your honor. For that, I was wrong. Very wrong. The error will not be repeated. Until you give me cause to doubt it, your word on it, whatever 'if might be, will suffice."

He met Ganfrion's expressionless gaze.

"But I give you fair warning. Give me that cause, make me sorry I spoke tonight, and you'd best be prepared for a long and extremely unpleasant life. You're not the only man who knows how to repay debt in like coin. Do I make myself clear?"