"Dammit, Khyel, say something. If Thyerri heard right, sometime after that damned competition tomorrow, all hell is going to break loose. For all I know, they plan to blame it all on you, and turn you over to the raving masses as a diversion while hell breaks loose. You've got to leave."

"When we know the time, I'll leave."

"Dammit, you're a Rhomandi! You've got to get back to Rhomatum. Warn the other nodes, prepare Rhomatum Tower."

"Prepare, how?"

"Hell if I know. That's ringspinning, but any fool can see that half of an already crippled system shutting down isn't going to help it run better! If Garetti wants it, he's going to have it!"

"Your arguments are slipping, Gan. What can be done has been done and will be done, whether I'm here or in Rhomatum."

"How the hell do you know?"

"I have my ways, Ganfrion. You're not my only source, you know."

"I know I'm your best one."

Mikhyel chuckled, enjoying for once having useful infor- mation Ganfrion lacked. "I assume you've sent messengers to my brothers."

"Of course. But"

"Did you do a good job on my signature?"

"Of course. But" Ganfrion broke off. Frowning. But Mikhyel only chuckled. He could see where Ganfrion's methods, while expedient, must have gotten him into a great deal of trouble over the years. Fortunately for Gan- frion, the Rhomandi brothers had ways of backing up the information sent via other methods.

"Then we've done all we can," Mikhyel said at last. "I certainly won't get to Rhomatum faster than a single horseman."

Ganfrion's stare accused, tried and judged him wanting in common sense; but oddly, his voice held a trace of sym- pathy when he asked: "You've got a bad case, haven't you. Suds?"

The ghostly humor deserted him. "I care deeply for someone whose skill I respect and admire, if that's what you mean."

"You know what I mean. Why don't you just get it over with? You know the feelings are mutual. You'd both feel better. Maybe straighten out your thinking."

He couldn't argue with that. The cold truth was, his de- sire for Temorii did cloud his thinking. Still: "I can't even consider it. It would be as good as a death sentence for her."

"And living without you won't be?"

"Not if she has her dance."

"Perhaps having you would be an adequate substitute."

"Hardly. And I'd never ask her to make the choice."

"Never ask? Or never give?"

"You cut too fine a line for me."

"Leave now. Tonight. Take your dancer with youby force, if you must. The poor child hasn't a chance anyway."

"Of course she has."

"Your dancer will win, that's a given. Your dancer will be the Khoratum radical. But for how long, once you're gone or in prison . . . or dead? The outcome is rigged!

They're counting on you sticking around for the ceremonies and celebrations. If you don't, Temorii is doomed."

"I'd never leave, if I believed that to be the case."

"Well, wake up. Suds. Because that's the way it is."

"And there are facts yet to come into evidence. Crypt- bait. Temorii will be safe."

"You're blind, Rhomandi."

"And you don't understand as much as you think you do!"

A hesitant knock on the door interrupted them.

"Come!" Mikhyel barked, and the door inched open re- vealing pale eyes and long shaded hair.

"Is it safe?" Temorii whispered, eyes wide with theatri- cal fear.

Mikhyel laughed, and held out a hand. "Come, child.

The ogre is in his cage."

She sighed dramatically, and slipped the rest of her inside the room, the mass of skirt sweeping in behind as if it had a mind of its own.

For all he knew, it did.

She was carrying a small pile of clothing that she placed in a chair near the door.

Ganfrion scowled and spun on his heel to leave. He paused beside her. They exchanged a long look that made Mikhyel wonder what new conspiracy Ganfrion was brew- ing against him.

"See if you can talk sense into him," Ganfrion growled, and slammed out the door.

Mikhyel waited until he was certain Ganfrion was gone, and he was himself in control of his emotions. There was so much he couldn't tell the man. From Mother's ability to transport Temorii and himself free of any danger, to the debt he owed the young woman herself. He simply could not be the one to rob her once again of her chance to prove her talent to the world.

And to herself.

More than that, he wanted to be at that competition. For his own sake. Rhyys would use rumor whether he attended or not. At this point his personal fate was the primary risk and he had every right "Khy?" Temorii's voice drew him free of his thoughts.

He held out hands which she took without hesitation. Or pain. He examined both her arms, finding on the left a thin red mark, but no more.

"Mother?" he asked; and she nodded, confirming the sus- picions her sudden disappearance had roused. "And tomor- row? You'll be well enough to dance?"

Her head lowered, the mass of hair falling forward to hide her face. But she nodded again.

"I was so worried, when you didn't come back last night.

What happened?"

"I went to Mother."

"And does bone take so much longer to heal than skin or hair?"

She shook her head. "It . . . wasn't my arm. It was why my arm happened."

"Dancing without the safety lines will do that," he said, gently chastising, but choked on the words when her head came up, and her expression said he didn't know what he was talking about. "What, then?"

"You, Khy. You happened."

"What did I do? I wanted to yell, but I didn't. I was scared out of my mind, once I realized"

{And when did you realize, Khy?j A thought. Clear and sweet as in Mother's cave, carrying the tartness of raspberries and the warm mystery of cinnamon.

"Rings," he whispered. "You heard me?"

She nodded.

"How much do you get?"

"Before Mother transferred us to the cave, only occa- sional drifts, hardly more than impressions of impressions.

I should have known you from the very beginning."

"From the time in the woods. After Boreton?"

She nodded.

Mikhyel murmured. "I sensed it, too."

"Did you? I wondered. It cut off so quickly. But I'd changed. Or you had. I know my - . . hearing has been diminished along with the web. Perhaps we both just . . .

needed our privacy. Now . . - at times, it's impossible to stuat you out."

It was like his conversations with Deymorin reenacted.

As his ability to hear and sense his brothers was to Nikki's and Deymorin's, so Temorii's was to his.

"Like Deymorin and Nikki," she confirmed softly.

"You know about them?"

She nodded. But of course she would.

And as with Deymorin and himself, during a moment of crisis, his uncertainty at the key moment had caused her to falter.

"Oh, sweet mother of the ley," he whispered. "Tern, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She shrugged. "Mostly, I can block you out"

"How?" he asked eagerly.

"I can't teach you, Khy. Not in one short night."

One night. So she was part of the conspiracy to spirit him out of Khoratum.

"Then I'll stay here. As long as it takes for me to learn."

She shook her head. "Then I'll leave. Perhaps Mother will take me back . . . now."

"Why? In your own Rakshi's name, the whole point of this was to get you the Dance."

"It's too dangerous for you to stay here, Khyel."

And then he realized, and was ashamed not to have thought of it sooner.

"Of course. I must leave before the competition. I'm a danger to you. It's worse than my trying to shut Deymorin out. You can't afford to have your attention distracted in that manner. Tern, I am sorry. I . . ."

He lifted a hand, let it drop before it touched her, and feeling suddenly very old, he headed for the door to send for Ganfrion, to tell him to make the arrangements.

But Temorii swirled into his path.

"I didn't mean that. I can handle it. You simply startled me, because you'd been so happy, so pleased with the dance until then. Your . . . appreciation simply made it better than I'd ever imagined. So when you . . . changed, I wasn't ready. I'm ready now. I've only one chance to compete, and I . . . I want you to be there."

She pressed her injured hand against her stomach, rub- bing it with the other. He captured both hands again.

"Then what is it?"

"You must leave, Mikhyel, right after my competition.

And if my number comes up too late"

"It will be last. You know it will be the last number called. It's certain to be rigged for Rhyys' maximum entertainment."

"And . . . and to make certain you're still there. You must leave before I dance, then, Khyel. You must."

Her logical functions were vacillating as wildly as his own tonight. Nerves. Pressure. They were both walking a nar- row ledge.

He smiled and shook his head. "Immediately after.

You've said you want me there. You've said it won't endan- ger you. Idammit, Tern, I want to see this through! I want to see you dance. Gan can damn well get me out afterward!"

"It . . . it won't be easy. I think Rhyys plans to have you arrested right after."

"I can always get out the same way you'll get in."

She smiled faintly. "That's true, isn't it? She's back . . ."