"Yes, well, the body I have in mind-if you'll pardon the expression-will be heavily guarded and I'll need you to help me get close enough to make the transfer. When that happens, your brother will have his body back."

"What happens to the life from this new body?"

"Why should you care?"

Why should she? As long as Bannon got his body back, what difference did the death of one stranger make? "Who is it?"

"Prince Otavas."

The youngest of the Emperor's four children, Prince Otavas, at seventeen, had just begun to take his place in public life. His coming of age had been celebrated across the Empire and the Sixth Army had happily drunk a river of beer in his honor. Pounding heads made for a silent parade the next morning, but the swearing of allegiance had rung out with enough volume to echo off the garrison walls lest word get back to the Emperor that the Sixth Army was less than sincere in their support of his son. Vree, her own head eggsh.e.l.l fragile, had shouted as loudly as the rest although she'd aimed her voice directly at Bannon, who'd turned a pale green at the noise.

"No."

Bannon/Aralt smiled. "Aren't you being just a bit hasty? Don't you think you should talk it over with your brother first? I mean, you do realize what your alternative is..." Picking up one of her daggers, he tested the point against the ball of his thumb and frowned at the crimson bead of blood. "Very sharp."

"Vree..."

"No. We swore an oath to serve the Imperial House. We've been serving the Imperial House all our lives. Don't ask me to break those oaths, Bannon." She tried to swallow around the sudden obstruction in her throat that seemed to have edges sharper than her dagger. If he asked her, she'd have to do it and then there wouldn't be anything left of her at all. She'd already given him the army, surely he couldn't want her honor, too.

"Do you think I could break those oaths so easily?"

"I...".

His mental voice held equal amounts of hurt and anger. "I've served the Imperial

House just as you have. I've killed for them. I've bled for them. What makes you

think your oaths mean more to you than mine do to me?"

Vree closed her eyes, shutting out the distraction of Bannon/Aralt. "He has your body." It was the only answer she could give him.

"And that's all he's getting."

"I'm sorry. I should've known."

"Yeah. You should have." He sounded as though he'd been betrayed.

She was too tired to react, too tired for that underlying accusation to cut as

deeply as it would have under other circ.u.mstances. Given the way she felt- physically drained and emotionally flayed-a quick death looked almost inviting. She only wished they could have died in battle. "I wonder if we'll get stuffed into the same crow."

"What?"

"Because we'll die in one body," she explained, wondering why he hadn't understood. It'd seemed obvious to her.

"We're not going to die."

"Bannon, I'm tied like a festival goose. What am I supposed to defend myself with? Spit and a prayer?"

"Lies."

"What?"

His grin lit up the inside of her head. "We're going to lie to him. It's a long way to the Capital and the prince, and we'll be chewing at his defenses the whole time."

"And if we can't get through?"

"Vree, there're two of us to one of him. And we're the best. There's never been a defense we couldn't get through. Has there?"

"No..."

"So we agree to give him the prince, but we get my body back before we have

to."

"He'll think he's safe because I won't hurt the body he's in, and he doesn't think you're strong enough to push him out."

"That's the only reason he would have made the slaughtering offer." His tone

held an approving nod. "The arrogant carrion eater."

"I'm waiting for a decision."

Vree opened her eyes. "We'll help, on one condition."

"Vree!"

"Shut up, I'm trying to make this believable."

"I hardly think that you-either of you-are in a state to be imposing conditions,

but what is it?"

"After you're in the prince and Bannon has his body back, we're to be given time to get away. No yelling for the guards."

"And what makes you think you can trust me?"

She lifted both brows and layered silent sarcasm onto her response. "The same

thing that makes you think you can trust us. We have something you need."

"You won't after I'm in the prince."

"I won't be tied then." Vree dropped her gaze pointedly to her weapons. "After

all the trouble you're going through to become the prince, I'd think you'd like to live a while longer."

"If you kill the prince..."

"You'll have already killed the prince!" she snarled."Very well. If you kill the prince's body, the palace guards will kill you. Both of you."

She shrugged. "We're not afraid to die."

He stared at her strangely and murmured, "But I notice you're choosing life, regardless."

"I said we weren't afraid, not that we wanted to. Besides, if we die after you've taken the prince, at least we'll have the satisfaction..."

"The pleasure!"

"... of taking you with us."

He studied her as if weighing her sincerity, then he smiled. "I think I can meet that condition."

"Then you have a deal." Except that he'd be dead and out of Bannon's body long before they reached the prince. Bannon was right. There'd never been a defense they couldn't breach together. "Now, if I'm, we're, going to help you, you can start your part of the bargain by cutting me free."

"Of course. Pardon me." The dagger he chose was the long, slender blade she'd carried into the room. He slid it between silk and skin, and she shivered at the caress of the chilled steel. The silk parted like water around stone, flowing away from the edge.

"Very sharp," he repeated approvingly, turning the knife and offering it to her, hilt first.

His fingers laid warm pressure against hers during the exchange.

"Is something the matter?"

Vree shook her head. "No." Safest to stick to single syllables. Or maybe not. "Just so you know..." The dagger whispered promises as she slid it back into the thigh sheath. "... I know twenty-seven ways to kill you with no weapons at all."

The theatrical recoil was so Bannon it was difficult to remember that it involved Bannon's body alone. He clutched a handful of the robe over his heart. "You're scaring me to death."

She c.o.c.ked her head thoughtfully. "Twenty-eight." Two could play at that game.

Impossible not to laugh with him. With Bannon's body. I'm so tired.

"You need to sleep. Come, there's a guest room just next door you can use. I'm afraid you'll have to share..."

"Vree, that's not funny."

"Sorry." She swallowed a chuckle, recognizing how close she was to losing control-a very bad idea when trapped in enemy territory-and scooped up the rest of her weapons. "What will you tell the servants?"

"That my traveling companion has joined me and we'll both be leaving in the morning." He waved the signet ring under her nose as he pushed open one of the louvered doors and led the way out into the courtyard. "Governor Aralt prepared the servants for my arrival."

"How will you explain me just appearing? I didn't come in through the front door, you know."

"I'm sure you didn't, but you'll agree there's no need to tell them that." The next room was identical to the one they'd just left except there was no desk, no chair, and no pile of knotted scarf fragments. "If you insist on journeying in the heat of midday, you have to expect a lack of a welcoming committee when you arrive. Fortunately, I'm a light sleeper. I heard and I brought you in."

"And they'll believe you?"

"As long as I'm wearing this ring. There's a pot in that small chest if you need it."

She paused just inside the room, toes curling against the raised pattern in the braided straw mat. "What do I call you? Obviously you're not Aralt anymore. At least not here."

He stared at her for a long moment and she had the oddest feeling that he was actually seeing her for the first time. "You may call me Gyhard," he said at last. "Gyhard i'Stevana."

"Gyhard i'Stevana? That's a strange name."

"Perhaps. But it's the one I was born with." He sketched her a courtly bow. "I haven't used it for some time."

The gla.s.s mirror had cost him a great deal, but from the moment he'd seen the clarity of the reflection they cast he'd wanted one. The artisans who knew the secret of joining liquid mercury, tin, and gla.s.s lived in one small, but very wealthy city on the sh.o.r.e of the Fienian Sea. He'd gone there himself in the time before he became Governor Aralt, risking the dangerous overland route and paying nearly everything he had for an oval mirror no larger than a man's hand.

It was very important he be able to see clearly who he was.

"Gyhard i'Stevana." His reflection looked young and confused. "Why did I give her that name?" He hadn't used that name in... A quick frown knitted in the high arc of the brows as he counted back. He hadn't used that name in over ninety years.

He'd just jumped into his third body, had just used his ability deliberately for the first time. He'd been haunted and lonely when high in the Cemandian Mountains he'd met someone in infinitely worse shape.