"Who?" dunMheric asked when he seemed to have him- self under control. He tipped his head, trying to see Thy- erri's face beneath the hood. The black hair slid forward in a silken wave. "Rings." He turned his head, hiding his face in that black silk. "You're the lad who helped me that first night, aren't you?"

Aloof. Embarrassed.

"Obviously," Thyerri responded, "you believed other- wise."

"Obviously." DunMheric's narrow shoulders heaved be- neath his dark coat, and his head came up, though he still didn't really look at Thyerri. "My extreme apologies."

Thyerri dipped his chin.

"What . . ." dunMheric began, seemed to reconsider, then repeated: "What did you mean, I'm cruel? You, who allowed me to believe you were someone else?"

Tempting, to let him wonder, to let him suffer as he'd caused others to suffer. But he hadn't known. And who could imagine the confusion that must dwell within a rijhili with Tamshi eyes.

But to explain . . . Bharlo hadn't understood. Rhyys mocked. How could a rijhili possibly understand?

"The girl you followed? The girl you would maul so ca- sual"

"There's nothing casual about my feelings for Temorii,"

dunMheric interrupted, and his eyes flared with sup- pressed passion.

"No?" Thyerri mocked that passion as well as his own.

"Is so deep an understanding possible in three days? Or do I mistake my time for your arrival? Perhaps you knew her before you arrived and came here specifically to pursue your acquaintance?"

DunMheric shook his head, slowly at first, then emphati- cally, until that beautiful hair rippled in the early sunlight.

All the time he refused to meet Thyerri's challenging stare.

"Well, then, let me tell you something about Temorii."

"You know her?" dunMheric's head came up, his eyes wide, excited. "Help me find her! I'll make it worth your while."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? I'm worried about her."

"Then leave her alone."

"Why?"

"Why was she running away?"

"I don't know."

"Not? Obviously, she was demented, and you're well rid of her. I'll be going then." Thyerri took two steps down the alley before: "Wait! There . . . there was blood . . ." A cursing pause that hid, Thyerri suspected, an embarrassed search for words. "I encountered her in a tavern yesterday evening. I took her to my roomNot for what you think"

"You've no idea what I'm thinking, rijhili. What then?"

"We . .. we slept in the same bedbut that's all I did!

I just . . . slept."

"So defensive, Khy," Thyerri mocked. "Then?"

Appearing somewhat taken aback, dunMheric finished in a rush. "This morning, she woke up with a headache; I got up to fix her a tonic; she cried out1 thought in fearand ran out."

"Fear of what? A medicinal tonic? That's foolish. De- mented, I tell you."

"I . . . I don't believe . . . There was blood on my shirt, you see, and on the sheets. Her . . ."

"Obviously, the girl was a virgin."

"Nothing happened! At least, not with me. But yesterday . . . She was assaulted, and if one of them . . .

well. I'm truly concerned. You see, I must find her. Make certain she's all right!"

"There is," Thyerri said cautiously, "another possible explanation."

"What? What could there be that a doctor's exam could not improve?"

"Many things, I assure you, rijhili! But Temorii . . .

That name means dancer, did you know that?"

DunMheric shook his head. "What would that have to do with"

"Possibly nothing. Possibly a great deal. Would you know more?"

"Of course."

"No 'of course' about it, rijhili. Most don't care. Was her hair cropped? Like . . ." He pulled the ends of his own hair free with the tips of his fingers.

"Yes. And sunbleached, like yours. That was one reason I, well, mistook ..."

"Ah."

"What do you mean 'Ah'? Stop playing with me. Do you know something about her or don't you?"

"It's possible that this young woman you seek has aspira- tions of dancing, perhaps the rings."

"I still don't"

"You are ignorant, rijhili. Khoratumin ringdancers can- not also be lovers. Ideally, they think of nothing but the dance, and most specifically, they do not think of those acts lovers perform."

It was Thyerri's turn to hide his embarrassment, to stum- ble after words to express that which he, himself, was expe- riencing for the first time in his life. Confusions this hot- blooded Rijhili had undoubtedly long since forgotten.

"For some dancers, such denial . . . stunts . . . sexual . . ."

"Maturity?" DunMheric finished for him, and Thyerri nodded, grudgingly thankful.

"Are you trying to tell me she might simply have begun her menses?" Said without embarrassment. As a physician would.

Or as a man would who had no concept of the true meaning of such bodily changes.

"That could explain the headache," dunMheric contin- ued musingly.

"And you, a bachelor without sisters, have such vast knowledge," Thyerri mocked him.

"I" Those Tamshi eyes flashed with sudden intensity.

"How do you know I haven't a dozen sisters?"

"A dozen." Thyerri folded his arms. "Nikkitia, Demoria . . . Who else?"

From the long, cold silence that greeted his deliberate taunt, the challenge had not passed unnoticed. But dunMheric's reply clung stubbornly to the illusion of anonymity. "I had an aunt...

who hated that particular aspect of her . . . existence." Dun- Mheric's voice was tight with emotion and Thyerri wanted no more details. "So . . ." A deep-drawn breath. "She was embar- rassed. But why just. . . disappear?"

"Don't you see? If it was her first time, inin her own mind . . ." Thyerri had to swallow hard, before he could continue. "She might feel she's lost the rings forever. She might feel that just lying with you could, well . . ."

"And that is why you call me cruel: for pursuing her."

"For exuding desire, dunMher" Thyerri caught him- self, but not in time.

Another long silence. At last, "So. You do know as well."

Thyerri shrugged.

"Rather silly to continue the charade, I suppose."

Thyerri shrugged again. Hardly his place to judge.

"All right, lad. I'll . . . let her go. But . . . you said . . .

Do you know her?"

"Farewell, Khy." Thyerri turned to go.

"Wait."

He paused.

"If you If you see her, tell her, please, to come back.

Tell her, I'll keep my promise."

"To do what?"

"Just tell her."

"Perhaps. If I see her."

"Fair enough." DunMheric half-turned. "About what I did..."

"I'll tell her, dunMheric," Thyerri interrupted. "** I chance across her."

DunMheric nodded and left slowly. Defeated.

Thyerri sank down to squat on his heels, arms pressed to his aching gut, hungry, yet convinced anything he ate would run right through without pausing to make more than passing acquaintance with his stomach. Which sounded to him like ill health, which frequently meant, for one living on the streets, death.

Perhaps he should see if dunMheric's invitation might extend to include himself. Somehow, he doubted it would, not when dunMheric knew all there was to know, and what one Thyerri of Bharlori's had done to those who last ex- tended him the hand of friendship.

Thyerri was waiting for the cramps to ease, or lay him flat, when a hand clamped on his shoulder, heavy enough, strong enough, that he had no hope of breaking free of it.

"In the name of Rhyys dunTarec, Ringmaster of Khora- tum, you're under arrest."

Chapter 5i~.

Exuding desire . . . one did have to laugh. Certainly Dey- morin would.

Mikhyel tied off the end of his braid, and flipped it back behind his shoulders. The strands around his face were cer- tain to work loose the moment he stepped into the moun- tain winds, but a disheveled appearance would only make him that much less like his poster.

The simple woolen greatcoat and colorful muffler the re- doubtable Ganfrion had supplied, completed his non- Rhomandi look. Perhaps that explained the street-boy's cryptic remark. Perhaps "Korelli dunKarin" was . . .

He struck an appropriate pose before the mirror . . . and decided the boy had unquestionably been making fun of him, as he had with the remark about his sisters. Nikkitia, Demoria . . . he'd known all along.

But either the others in this strange almost-city were less astute, or they also took delight in bailing him. They were free enough with their opinions. Particularly of the upcom- ing visit of Mikhyel dunMheric and the ill-health that had placed a DELAYED banner across the posters, putting their festival on hold yet again.

Today, as he had for the past several days, he would roam the streets of Khoratum, listening, observing. Like yesterday, he'd also be looking for Temorii. Hopefully, he could avoid assaulting any more alley-rats.

A full day after the fact and his face still grew hot just thinking about that encounter. Even had the young man been Temorii, Mikhyel's actions would have been uncon- scionable. He certainly hadn't chased her in order to . . .

Or had he? He could not deny she roused feelings in him he'd never had to deal with before. His relief, when he believed he'd found her, had expressed itself . . . ener- getically. Perhaps, had the young man not called him "Khy," as she had, perhaps had he not responded . . .

But he couldn't blame the boy. His was the behavior in question.

And yet, the boy's response was a curiosity in itself.

From their first meeting, he'd obviously resented Mikhyel's presence in Khoratum, Mikhyel's and all rijhili. Likely he had encouraged Mikhyel's outrageous behavior in order to mock him, as he mocked him with that personal as- sessment.