"We've paid for the s.p.a.ce," Gyhard had explained. "It's ours to use.""His Highness needs us now!" Swaying where she stood, Karlene had tried desperately to concentrate through the pain in her head.

"Unless you're willing to run alongside, you need a horse." Gyhard had yawned and settled into a pile of clean straw. "No one's going to sell us a horse until morning."

Karlene's head had ached too badly to argue.

The stablemaster, irritated at being woken before dawn, became obsequiously willing to sell them both horse and tack the moment he caught sight of Aralt's remaining gold.

"You could've had the chestnut for less," Karlene pointed out, tying a rolled woolen blanket on behind the worn saddle.

Gyhard continued inspecting his gelding's feet. "I bought the best horse I could afford given our immediate need," he said. "We won't be able to change mounts, and I don't want you slowing us down."

The bard threw her braid behind her shoulder with some force. "Slowing you down? How fast can dead men travel?"

"Dead men don't need to eat or sleep or s.h.i.t." He straightened and began adjusting the girth. "If K... if he left the Capital right after acquiring the prince, he's a lot farther than a day's walk ahead of us-a day and two nights farther."

"The old man isn't dead," Karlene declared.

He should be dead. "And that's our only hope of catching them. They had to have stopped occasionally for him."

Her reins in one hand, a half-eaten piece of flatbread in the other, Vree led her horse over to the corner of the stableyard. "It's a big empire," she said. "After we go through the East Gate, what then?"

Gyhard turned to stare at her. "What makes you think they left through the East Gate?"

"The old man took at least two bodies out of the tombs along the East Road around the time the air spirits first got upset. Makes sense to a.s.sume that's the way he approached the city and if he's heading away, it makes sense to a.s.sume that's the road he'll take. So," she balanced the flatbread on her saddle and brushed crumbs off her shirtfront, "where do we go after we leave the East Gate? We know he's gone farther than the tombs because when he was in the tombs the air spirits were frightened and now they aren't."

One hand absently stroking his gelding's neck, Gyhard studied her. "You seem very sure of yourself this morning," he mused.

"It isn't you and me this morning," she told him, picking up the flatbread. "It's find the prince. I understand how that works."

"It'll be you and me again, once the prince is found."

"I know. But it isn't now."

"You and him?" Bannon demanded. "What about me?"

She couldn't believe that just for a moment, she'd forgotten.

"Yeah, I can't believe it either," Bannon snarled.

"We'll go past the tombs." Gyhard swung up into the saddle. "Then the bard will Sing, giving us a better idea of the prince's location and how far they've gone." He glanced down at Karlene. "You will be able to Sing, won't you?"

"I'll Sing," she told him through clenched teeth. "You don't need to worry about me."

"Good." He smiled. "I won't."

Struggling to deal with three kigh in two bodies, Karlene could feel the hair rising on the back of her neck-and wasn't at all surprised to discover that it hurt. Thanks to the feverfew, she could function, but the continual throbbing at the point where the blunt object had connected with her skull made curiosity painful in spite of everything the healers had done. She had a hundred questions but they'd have to wait.

Concentrate on getting out of the Capital, she told herself sternly. She stiffened her neck to support her pounding head and mounted awkwardly. First, the prince. Nothing could interfere with freeing the prince's kigh.

But once the prince was...

Was what? she demanded of herself. Safe? He's dead, Karlene, you didn't keep him safe. Teeth clenched, she followed Gyhard out of the stableyard.

All you can do, is get him back.

As they approached the East Gate, guiding the horses around a steady parade of farmers heading to market, Karlene realized they had a problem. Gabris would send the kigh to find her-she'd deal with them-but there were also more mundane methods he could use to discover her direction. If anyone has seen Karlene the bard... Bardic recall could add a full description... inform the palace immediately. Too late to do anything about the people who'd already seen her this morning but at least she could hide her path out of the city. Given the healer's warning, she'd hoped to avoid Singing until they got past the tombs, but she had no choice.

Sitting as straight as she was able, she began.

Frowning, Vree reached over and touched the bard lightly on the arm. "Be quiet. You're too noticeable already."

"I'm Singing so they won't notice me," Karlene explained, allowing the Song to trail off while she spoke. In spite of everything, she smiled at Vree's expression. "It's a bardic ability."

When Gyhard nodded in agreement, Vree rolled her eyes and made sure her daggers were ready and her saddlebags secure in case they had to run for it. Making noise so as not to attract attention made less than no sense.

The guard at the East Gate barely glanced at them as they rode by. Obviously, they were none of them the prince in disguise and neither could he be hidden amongst their small amount of baggage.

"That might be a good trick to learn," Vree observed as no one noticed the tall, very fair, singing foreigner leave the Capital.

"What trick?"

"Singing so the guards don't see you."

"See who?"

"The bard!"

"What bard?"

Teeth clenched, Vree turned her head. "That bard. The one riding beside us."

"Oh." Bannon remained quiet for a long moment. "I forgot she was there."

"Were you listening to her sing?"

"I could hardly help it, could I? They're your slaughtering ears and she's right beside you. Now. I mean, I guess she always was, but..." His thoughts tumbled over each other in confusion. "Vree, I don't like this."

"Don't worry about it. It seems as though she can only affect one of us at a time.

Which is weird."

"Slaughtering right it is."

"No, I mean because, well, like you said, they're my slaughtering ears..."

They rode until they pa.s.sed the line of tombs, the pale stone gleaming in the morning sun.

"I think it's time we determine if we're on the right road," Gyhard declared,

reining in. He glanced back at the small, square buildings lining both sides of the

empty road. "For the moment, there's no one around to overhear."

Karlene lifted her head, eyes squinted nearly shut against the angle of the light.

A strand of pale hair lifted off her cheek as she dismounted and handed the reins up to Vree. Trying to ignore the slivers of pain that radiated out from her temple, she walked up a small rise and Sang the four notes that would call the kigh.

Astounded, Vree gaped as the bard's clothing billowed in the sudden breeze.

"Do you hear any words?" Bannon asked.

"No." But she could hear a question. "Is it magic?" she asked Gyhard as Karlene

stroked the air and continued to Sing.

Gyhard started. He'd forgotten how achingly pure bardic tones were. Kars had

sounded like that once. Dragged back from contemplating the past, he shook his head. "Not exactly."

"Then what is it?"

"Not magic. She's merely speaking to the spirits of the air."

"Merely?" Vree repeated as Karlene's braid whipped around her head and, flung

backward, the bard sat down hard on a small bush.

Handing the reins of both horses to Gyhard, Vree dropped out of the saddle and moved forward cautiously. The air was unnaturally still. Not even her movement stirred a breeze. "Are you all right?" she called softly.

"No worse than I was." Clasping Vree's extended hand, Karlene pulled herself to her feet and nearly pitched forward onto her face. She winced as only a quick transfer of grip from hand to elbow kept her standing. "You're a lot stronger than you look."

"She's interested."

"Shut up, Bannon." "What happened?" Vree asked as they carefully made their way back to the road, the bard's sandals scuffing a track in the dirt.

"You were right about the East Gate." She raised her voice to carry as far as Gyhard but no farther. "Because the old man is on the East Road heading away from the Capital."

Vree helped the taller woman up over the curbstones and back onto the road. "Did the air spirits tell you that?"

"No." Wrapping both hands around her saddle horn, Karlene rested her forehead against the warm leather.

"But they were quite emphatic in their refusal to follow the East Road. The kigh don't judge distance very well, but if I had to guess, I'd say they went more than a day's walk before they came back to tell me they were afraid."

"And he's at least a day's walk beyond that," Gyhard murmured.

"Yeah." She got her left foot into the stirrup and laboriously lifted herself up onto the big bay. "The chestnut was shorter," she grumbled under her breath. The moment she had the energy, she'd send a kigh back to Gabris and rea.s.sure him that she knew what she was doing. They'd have missed her at the Healers' Hall by now and sent a messenger to the palace.

"If he's taking the prince along the road, why hasn't anyone seen them?" Vree asked as she mounted. "They have to be pretty noticeable."

"People have seen them," Gyhard explained, "but the next instant, they deny what they saw. The living can't, or won't, acknowledge the living dead and so they look right by."

Karlene stirred in the saddle. "I didn't. I looked right at them." Pain dulled the terror that memory returned.

"You're a bard."

Sucking her breath through her teeth, Karlene pushed her horse forward into a walk. "Is the old man heading where you thought he was?" she asked as Gyhard and Vree fell in beside her.

Gyhard stared down the road-as though, Vree thought glancing over at him, he could see the end of it. "So far," he said, after a long moment.

"But you're still not certain?"

"It's been a long time."

Karlene wondered how long it could possibly have been given his age, but the pounding inside her head suggested she forgo dealing with a young man's ego. "So all we can do is follow him along the road? a.s.sume he'll stop sometime and hope we can catch up?"

"For now, yes," Gyhard nodded, "that's all we can do."

She thought of Otavas trapped screaming within his murdered body and slammed her heels into the barrel of her horse. Startled, he leaped forward. She swayed but kept her seat and hung on grimly as he settled into a rocking canter, racing in pursuit of the walking dead.

The patterns of light playing against his eyelids woke him, dragging him up out of darkness. Confused and disoriented by the constant motion and the sound of wheels against stone, he tried to remember where he was.

He remembered hearing Karlene sing. He remembered the fight they had. He remembered an alley where the shadows held terror...

Gasping for breath, Prince Otavas opened his eyes.