Then, like a physical blow, horror replaced the growing sorrow. "Dead like the two..."

"Yes."

Karlene swallowed, once, twice, and finally forced her voice past the lump in her

throat. "You've got to go to the Emperor with this."

"The Emperor?" Gyhard's brows rose as he leaned back against the wall. "Shall we go to the Emperor, Vree?" he asked.

Vree struggled to make sense of what she'd just heard. "The prince is dead but

not dead?"

"That's right. His body has been killed, and then his kigh has been stuffed back into it."

"Kigh?" The foreign word fell out of her mouth; a click and an exhalation. "Like Bannon?" If the prince was dead, there would be no Imperial pardon. But if the prince was like Bannon...

Gyhard nodded approvingly. "Very like. Except that Bannon isn't dead. Isn't aware he's dead. And hasn't been forced to remain in a dead and decaying body." He spread his hands and smiled sardonically. "Bannon can leave any time."

"Kigh?" Karlene repeated, ignoring everything else that had been said, her racing thoughts outdistancing the pain. "The fifth kigh the healers speculate about..." She swung around toward Vree. "You have two kigh!"

As it wasn't a question, Vree saw no point in responding.

Then Karlene made another connection although it took her a moment to find her voice. "How does this old man compel the kigh back into the body?"

"He Sings."

"No."

"Afraid so." Gyhard was enjoying her reaction.

"I know all the Songs that name the bards." The air in the room seemed to have gotten thinner. It was hard to catch her breath. "He isn't a bard. He can't be a bard."

"A bard?" Vree had no idea what they were talking about.

"This is a bard." Gyhard gestured at the bed. "She Sings to the spirits and they listen."

Vree's eyes widened until they hurt. "Sings to the spirits of the dead?"

"No, there's only one bard that I know of who can do that." Apparently the skill had kept him alive long after he should have died. Grief flickered across Gyhard's features so quickly Vree thought she might not have seen it. Turning back to the bed, he bowed mockingly. "You wouldn't know him, Lady Bard. He's Cemandian."

The sudden relief made Karlene dizzy. "Cemandian," she murmured. That explained a great deal. Fearing the kigh and those who Sang them, the Cemandians had crippled bardic gifts before. This time, they appeared to have found a gift too strong for them to either use or destroy. No wonder the other kigh were terrified of being trapped. If the old man could Sing the fifth kigh back into the body that death had separated it from, what could he do to the other four? What horrific prisons could he Sing for them?

Gyhard watched conclusions flicker across the bard's face and had to turn away. He raised a brow at Vree's narrow-eyed stare and said, "It seems you're going to get your wish. We're going after the prince."

"But he's dead! What good is a corpse?"

"This has nothing to do with the prince, Bannon. He's going after the old man."

"Why?"

Old wounds. But for reasons she refused to examine, Vree wasn't able, wasn't willing to expose that much of Gyhard to her brother. "It doesn't matter. If we return the prince's body and the body of the man who kidnapped him, we can still get that Imperial pardon."

"If we get that carrion eater out of my body.""When.""Do you know where the prince is?" she asked.Gyhard looked back over ninety years. "I may...""He's at least a day's walk from the Capital."They turned together to stare down at Karlene."The air kigh have returned," she explained. "They wouldn't come any closer to the Capital when this... person was here, so obviously he's gone."

"Gone where?" It wasn't obvious to Vree but Gyhard seemed to think this bard knew what she was talking about.

Karlene shrugged and wished she hadn't. "I don't know." Her fingers hovered

over her left temple. "I haven't been able to Sing, to find where the kigh refuse to

go..."

Tugging down the edge of his vest, Gyhard stood and nodded toward the bed.

"Kill her."

Vree wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her dagger. At this distance, she could effortlessly sink it guard-deep into an eye socket. This woman, this bard, knew she was an a.s.sa.s.sin and could therefore target her.

"Probably why he told her," Bannon snorted. "Now he's picked her brain he wants her dead and he hasn't the b.a.l.l.s to do it himself."

a.s.sa.s.sins who deserted died. It wasn't enough that Gyhard was responsible for their danger, he was trying to use it to control her. Vree folded her arms and glared at him. "Sod off."

"I beg your pardon?" Gyhard spread his arms in a parody of concern. "Don't tell me you think we should go to the Emperor? Or perhaps you believe she won't go herself once we're gone? Life won't be fun with the entire First Army on our trail. In case you're forgetting, Vree..."

"I'm not forgetting anything. I think she should come with us."

"What?"

"I hate to agree with the carrion eater, Vree, but maybe you're not as sane as you think you are."

Vree raised her left hand and began flicking up the fingers. "First, you're not sure where the old man went. She can find him; the spirits won't go where he is, so we'll go where they won't. Second, a bard brought these dead guys back to life so maybe it needs a bard to kill them again. Daggers aren't much use against someone who's already dead. Third, if the prince is... is like that, then I want her along even if you don't. Fourth, what are you going to do when you catch up to the old man?"

All emotion drained from his face. "That's none of your concern."

"Fine." Vree folded the fingers down into a fist and set it on her hip. "But I'm

going with you, and she's going with me."

"Perhaps you should consult the bard before you finalize your plans," Gyhard suggested caustically. "Why do you think she'd be willing to help?" "Because she feels responsible for what happened." Vree turned to face the woman on the bed who was breathing heavily and staring up at her in astonishment. "You don't want to leave His Highness dead-not-dead, but you won't be able to save him without us. No one else believes you and no one else knows what Gyhard does about the old man and these spirits he controls." Her eyes narrowed. "You know the army will never find him. You'd be a fool not to come with us."

"You're the one being a fool, Vree," Gyhard spat through tight lips.

"Then kill her yourself."

The night grew a few heartbeats closer to dawn.

"Can you ride?" Gyhard asked at last. "I know it isn't a bardic skill..."

Teeth clenched, Karlene threw back the blankets. "I had a life before the Bardic

Hall," she grunted. "I can ride."

Gyhard shook his head at her condition. "You see that she stays in the saddle,"

he told Vree pointedly.

"Who died and put you in command?" she snarled, but she helped the taller woman up onto her feet. Twisting around, she pulled a pair of full trousers and a long tunic off a hook. "Here. Get dressed."

Fighting nausea, Karlene dragged the tunic down over her head. "We have to free him," she said, her voice m.u.f.fled in the fabric. "We can't leave him like that. I can't believe a bard would be so..."

"Lonely?" Vree asked. From the corner of one eye, she saw Gyhard flinch.

Karlene stared at her, amazed, the trousers dangling forgotten in her hand. "Lonely," she repeated. It was the first thing in two days that made total and complete sense.

"Very profound," Gyhard commented dryly. "I guess you have to know people pretty well in order to kill them."

Gripping the bard's elbow, Vree turned to face him. Head c.o.c.ked to one side, she stared at him for a long moment. "I guess you do," she agreed at last.

"Karlene, wake up. It's almost sunrise."

"Wha..." Struggling with the embrace of the straw, Karlene sat up and tried to focus on the figure silhouetted against the entrance to the livery stable.

Callused hands caught hers up and wrapped them around a warm clay bowl. She heard the younger woman murmur, "I brought you something to help your head."

A cautious sip puckered her mouth and, holding her breath, the bard drank the rest of the familiar liquid in a half a dozen fast swallows. Although she knew it would take time to work, the bitter taste alone seemed to clear the fog from her eyes.

Hands dangling between her knees, Vree squatted an arm's reach away. Karlene sighed in relief and handed back the bowl. "Where did you find feverfew?"

Vree shrugged. "There's an herbalist just around the corner."

"I can't imagine they'd be open at this hour." Then all at once, Karlene remembered. A locked shop would mean nothing to someone who could commit silent murder in the midst of guards and fortifications. So if an a.s.sa.s.sin brews you feverfew tea, she wondered, swallowing a sudden flood of saliva, do you worry about poison ?

It seemed that Vree read her mind. "Don't worry about poison. I know herbs. It's safe."

Because it was also too late, Karlene relaxed a little as she heard the truth in Vree's voice. "What about the hot water."

"Oh, that." Another shrug and a dismissive flick of a delicately arched brow. "Over the years, I've learned to improvise."

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Some."

Lip caught between her teeth, Karlene grabbed the edge of the stall where it had been rubbed smooth by the scratching of a hundred equine itches, and carefully stood, her head balanced like an egg on the column of her neck. "You must be exhausted."

"No."

"I wonder why she cares. Do you think she's interested?"

Vree looked startled, then in one smooth motion rose as well. "I'd better wake

Gyhard."

"You've gotta admit she's a looker-in a pale, northern kind of way."

"It doesn't matter if she's interested or not. Nothing is going to happen, Bannon."

Nothing could happen, not when she couldn't tell for certain which needs were hers and which were his.

"And if we both need, sister-mine?"

She pretended she didn't hear him as she shook Gyhard's shoulder.

After leaving the Healers' Hall, they'd spent the rest of the night in the stable with their horses. From the sounds in other stalls, it was a common enough occurrence.