Chapter Three.

The rough hemp rope abraded skin as the corporal secured wrist to iron bolt. Her mouth set in a grim line, she muttered, "You both should've known better." as she tied off the last knot.

Head up. Don't let them see you're afraid. At the last flogging, the recruit had blubbered like a baby even before the first welt rose on his back.

A tug against the binding nearly brought panic. It was one thing to know that movement would be impossible and another thing entirely to be held immobile. No. Don't struggle. Don't give them the satisfaction.

So maybe it had been a stupid bet. But they'd been cooped up inside the garrison for far too long; it was time to fly. After all, wasn't this what they were being trained to do? What difference was there between sneaking out of the garrison after lockup and sneaking into an enemy camp?

What difference? Lips twisted into a trembling parody of a smile. Nine lashes.

Wood pressed against shoulders, belly, and thighs, the breezes felt cooler than they should against bare, exposed skin.

Getting out had been easy. They'd danced through the shadows of the town, picked up the proof the bet required, and danced back. The feeling of freedom had been exhilarating; even the night air had seemed sweeter. They'd almost made it.

We should have made it.

From behind, the lash snapped out, striking a practice blow at nothing.

Swallow with a throat gone suddenly dry.

Shake off the comforting clasp of fingers. The corporal had bound them together before lashing their inner wrists to the punishment beam.

We would've made it if I'd seen that rotten board. Impossible not to tense, antic.i.p.ating the pain. I should've ...

... seen that rotten board. Vree struggled to pull herself out of the memory before the lash could fall. She'd gone through it once when she was fourteen and had no intention of going through it again. And then she realized. That hadn't been her memory. "Bannon?"

"No..."

"Bannon!"

"Vree?" She could almost feel him pulling himself together, drawing all the scattered bits into a confused and fearful whole. "What...?"

They realized they were bound at the same instant and for a moment their combined memories of pain and humiliation threatened to overwhelm them. Only exhaustion kept their struggle against the binding from tipping over into panic.

A frenzied throbbing that threatened to smash the bones of her skull dragged Vree out of the gestalt. Fighting the instinctive urge to push Bannon away, she clung to herself and finally forced her body to still.

"That's better. You haven't a chance of breaking free."

The tone was urbane, amused. The voice was almost familiar.

Gritting her teeth, Vree heaved her eyelids up.

Bannon-not Bannon-stood watching her from a double-body length away. He'd put on a pale green robe that didn't quite fit and his expression contained more curiosity than threat. Beside him, piled on the end of the bed, were not only the weapons she'd been forced to carry in her makeshift pack, but also every weapon that had remained on her body.

s.h.i.t.

Not that it really mattered because she was obviously going to be given no chance to use them. She'd been tied, with what appeared to be silk scarves, to the heavy, northern-style chair she'd seen from the doorway. Although bruised from the fight, the greatest amount of damage seemed to have been caused by the sudden desperate grab for her brother's life. Her head still rang as though all seven armies were marching through it.

"You must be the sister."

It was so weird hearing the timbre of Bannon's voice changed by a stranger's inflections. Vree flinched as long, cool fingers took firm hold of her jaw and raised her head.

"You look very much alike. Do you know that?" Bannon's lips smiled. "Of course you do. I have to admit, I never thought to meet you-although you were close to the surface of your brother's thoughts, he believed himself to be alone and I certainly didn't expect you to be following so close behind. Had I known, I'd have lingered long enough to take care of things." He released her and wiped his fingers fastidiously on the billowing folds of his robe as he straightened. "Mind you, I couldn't possibly have expected you to gather the poor boy to your bosom, metaphorically speaking, and come trotting after me determined to shove him back into his fleshy sh.e.l.l. If asked, I'd have declared it an impossible situation. Obviously, I would have been wrong." His eyes narrowed. "That doesn't often happen. I don't like to be wrong."

"Say something, Vree."

"Say what? He doesn't seem to need any encouragement from me."

The man who had been Governor Aralt walked over to the pile of weapons and prodded it gently, then he turned to face her again. "Vree. A diminutive of Vireyda. But no one calls you that, do they? Tell me, Vree, after this morning's little adventure, are you still sane?"

"Yes." The question surprised an answer out of her.

"Is he?"

"I'll soon show you how sane I am, you thieving son of a diseased pig!"

"I know you're still holding him. I felt you drag him back from the brink of

oblivion."

"He's sane." Vree spit the words from between tight lips.

"This is fascinating." Bannon's body folded itself gracefully into a cross-legged

position on the end of the bed. "Absolutely fascinating."

"He'll find it fascinating all right, with a dagger shoved up between his ribs!"

"Try to remember that they're your ribs." She clamped her will down on her left

arm, stopping its futile struggle against the russet scarf that bound her to the

wooden arm of the chair. "And stop doing that."

"You're talking to him, aren't you?" Bannon/Aralt leaned forward, elbows braced against his knees. "Your eyes develop an inward cast and..."

"Can I ask you something?" Vree broke in before he could begin another monologue.

He spread his hands. "Ask."

"Why haven't you killed me? Us."

"A good question. You intrigue me. And there isn't a lot capable of that

anymore." He grinned, and the familiar expression plunged her into confusion. "My turn. Did you have any idea of the risks you took, or did you act in total ignorance of the danger?"

"What danger?"

"Insanity. Loss of self. Death. When you allowed him to jump into your mind- and I a.s.sume you allowed it, he didn't just force himself in?" He read the answer off her face. "Yes, well, when you allowed him in, you should have been pushed out. Destroyed. Your life sacrificed for his."

"I trusted him."

"Very commendable," His voice picked up a sardonic edge. "I trusted someone once. But what made you think that you could hold two lives in one frail sh.e.l.l? No, wait." He raised his hand as a thought occurred to him. "You didn't think, did you? It was the only thing to do, so you did it. Blind faith succeeds where reason would have failed. That's so touching it makes me ill."

Vree leaned back in the chair, subtly testing the knots that held her. "So now what?"

"Another good question." Aralt/Bannon stared down at his foot as though fascinated by the strength and flexibility of his toes. "You could still go insane."

"I don't think so."

"How would you know?"

"I'd know." She ground the words out through clenched teeth, and he smiled.

"Yes, I believe you would." He leaned forward suddenly, and for the first time, his eyes met hers. "If I let you live, you'll continue trying to push me out of your brother's body, won't you?"

"Yes!"

"Bannon, no!"

But he wasn't listening. She felt him throw himself forward over the fragile bridge of her gaze, felt him slam into an impenetrable barrier, once again had to grab him and drag him back.

This time, at least, she remained conscious. When her vision cleared, Bannon/ Aralt was standing over her. "You can't," he said simply. "I've done this too often. I'm far too strong."

Her head felt like it was being ground between two large rocks. "Then you'll have to kill me. Us." At the moment, death didn't look so bad.

"No. I have a better idea. I have something you want. Something you need." He spread his hands. "This body. Which, I might add, is a fine physical specimen- young, strong, handsome. I'm sure we can come to some sort of an agreement."

Vree glared at him. "And what do I have that you want?"

"Skill. Training. Experience. How old are you? Your brother is twenty, so you'd be twenty-two? Twenty-three?" He sighed and shook his head. "You're not going to tell me, are you? No matter. You're a military a.s.sa.s.sin and a very good one if you've been doing it since you were fifteen."

"Twenty-one."

"Why are you telling him?"

She winced as Bannon's protest drove yet another spike of pain into her head.

"What difference does it make? We need him to deal."

"We don't need anything from him.""Except your body.""Which I'll take back!""How?""Children..."n.o.body spoke to her like that. Not if they wanted to live to see morning. After everything else that had happened; after discovering Bannon in a dying body not his own; after finding the precarious balancing point that let them both exist in her head; after tracking Aralt; after confrontation and capture-that smug patronizing tone was just too much. Vree's eyes narrowed and she began working her strength against the scarves securing her; if the silk wouldn't give, perhaps the chair would. All at once, it became very easy not to see her brother in the man sitting on the bed.

"Vree, stop it. You'll hurt yourself."

She could see his mouth moving, white teeth flashing between curved lips, but she couldn't hear what he said over the roaring in her ears.

"Vree, let it go. It isn't worth it. Listen to him."

"You said we didn't need anything from him." Rage clipped each word to its bare essentials.

"I was wrong." She felt him sigh. "He has my body. We have to deal." "How come you're so slaughtering composed all of a sudden?" "Because you aren't?" Bannon's laugh still held a hint of hysteria, but his thoughts felt clearer than they had. "We're a team, remember. I see the dangers you don't. You spot the dangers I miss. I want my body back, Vree, as much or more than you want me out of your head. I, I can't force my way in..." He hated to make the admission-Vree could feel him struggle with it. "... so we have to listen to him. We don't have a choice."

She drew in a long breath and managed to unclench her teeth before she slowly let it out. "Maybe I should've fallen apart hours ago."

"Maybe."

"You haven't been listening to me, have you?"

"No." With the fury gone, Vree sagged against the scarves.

Bannon/Aralt shook his head and sighed. "Family matters? No, never mind." He

raised a cautioning hand, a gold signet gleaming on his second finger. "I don't really want to know. I shall present the case once more. This time, I suggest you pay attention." Steepling his fingers, he leaned forward slightly, the action at odds with the flesh he wore. "As admirable as this body is, it comes with none of the little extras that make life worthwhile, and I have no wish to remain in it for very long. So, did you stop to tell any of your comrades about what happened in Ghoti or did you rush blindly after me?" He read the answer on her face and smiled. "Good. You will use your skills to help me get another body."

"One with extras?"

"Precisely."

"What kind of extras?"

"Wealth. Power. Position."

"Why do you need me? Us? You seem to have managed fine so far."