"Uncle was concerned about your young hostage."

Ruadh's lips pursed and he peered into the depths of his cup. "Hostage?"

"The girl, Iseabal."

"Ah, the little Wicke, you mean. How did your uncle know about her? He'd left Nairne-"

"Surely her capture wasn't a state secret. That sort of intelligence does tend to slip out."

"To the concern of Iobert Claeg?"

"We delivered the girl to Halig-liath ourselves. We're concerned with her welfare."

"Ah. Most people around here are concerned about Daimhin's welfare. Consorting with Wicke has never been popular with the Feich Elders. It makes them nervous. Well, you've good reason to be concerned, I think."

Saefren tensed. "Has anything happened to her? Is she well?"

Ruadh's laughter was false. "My cousin happened to her. I haven't seen her for above a week, myself, though Daimhin sees her a good deal more than is probably good for her. Under the circ.u.mstances, I can't believe she's well. I only know she's not dead . . . yet."

Saefren tried to ignore the tight, cold lump that sat in the pit of his stomach. "Where is she?"

Ruadh gestured at the ceiling with his cup, which sloshed its contents down his arm. He seemed not to notice and Saefren realized he drank something stronger than cider. "Up there, somewhere."

"Somewhere."

"Her room adjoins my cousin's. I understand that's going to change soon."

"Can you take me to her?"

"Should I take you to her?"

"I only want to make sure of her health."

"You were looking for my cousin. If I take you to the girl, chances are you will find him."

So much the better, Saefren thought and caressed the hilt of his sword.

Ruadh did not miss the movement. "Or, he could be with our other auspicious prisoner. The Abbod Ladhar is a Taminist, did you know that?"

"I very much doubt that. Ladhar is ruthless when it comes to their persecution."

"Found one of their books on him."

"One he probably lifted from the hand of a dead Taminist."

Ruadh watched the firelight trace bright tracks in the etched silver surface of his cup. "I read some of it."

Saefren did not react.

"Have you, ever?"

"No. I've heard some of their . . . doctrine, if you will. But read, no."

Ruadh merely nodded.

"The girl?" Saefren prompted.

Ruadh rose from his chair, only a little unsteady, and led from the room.

"I noticed a lot of activity in the outer ward," Saefren remarked as they negotiated the chill halls. He didn't remember Mertuile being quite so cold and dark. "Are you still planning on trekking into the Gyldan-baenn?"

"Have to. Daimhin promised we'd get them back their little demi-G.o.d."

"Isn't that foolhardy?"

"Oh, but you forget-or perhaps you don't know-my cousin is fey. Kissed by the aidan, overflowing with Eibhilin energies sucked from his wickish lady-friends, his enemies, and probably every other living thing within a twenty mile radius. Cousin Daimhin can now have whatever he wants, which makes it his right, I suppose."

That had an ominous sound even to Saefren's ears. He forced a chuckle. "I see. Will he fly over the Gyldan-baenn, then?"

"Ah, yes. On the back of a raven, I believe," Ruadh said cryptically and fell into a thoughtful silence.

Saefren could think of nothing more to say to him, and wished he had Aine-mac-Lorimer's aidan so he could divine the other man's thoughts.

Once on the second floor, they traversed the Royal wing. The widely-s.p.a.ced doors hinted at the size of the apartments behind the tapestried and paneled walls. At the end of the broad main corridor Ruadh stopped and nodded toward a heavily ornamented door.

"That's it. He's not here. He usually posts guards when he's . . . consorting with one of his Wicke."

"Can you open it?"

"No key. Cousin wears it. Like a jewel. Around his neck."

Saefren stepped forward and tried the door. Indeed, it was locked.

"Iseabal?" he called softly. "Iseabal-a-Nairnecirke, are you there? Are you all right? It's Saefren Claeg."

There was no answer and Saefren felt a chill of dread trickle like ice down his back. He put his ear to the door, ignoring Ruadh Feich's opaque stare.

"Daimhin isn't a very gentle man," Ruadh commented almost absently. "Never has been. Oh, he starts out that way-soft-spoken, caressing. But somewhere between wanting and having . . . it's as if a demon takes him. Demon-Daimhin. I've heard women call him that. Those were the willing ones."

Saefren rattled the door with no result. "d.a.m.n. Look, Ruadh, I need to talk to the Regent. Have you no idea where he is?"

"Behind you?"

Saefren turned. Daimhin Feich was indeed standing behind him, flanked by two armed men in Feich colors. He shook his head, made a clucking noise with his tongue.

"I come to visit my lovely guest and what do I find-she's attracted other admirers."

"Saefren was merely concerned about the good health of your lovely guest," said Ruadh dryly. "He seems to feel some personal responsibility for it."

"Uncle was concerned that the girl not come to any harm," Saefren offered.

Daimhin Feich smiled. "Charming. Concerned about the health of a virtual stranger-a Wicke, at that. Imagine how concerned he'll be about you."

Before Saefren could react to that obvious threat and draw his sword, Feich's men were all over him, forcing him against the wall and relieving him of his weapon.

Ruadh stumbled out of the way, a stunned expression on his face. "Cousin, what in the name of-!"

"Good work, Ruadh. You've helped me capture a traitor." Feich peered into Saefren's face. "All Claeg are traitors. All Jura, all Graegam, and all Gilleas. You, sir, are also insurance. If your uncle or any of his cronies put themselves in my way, I will have you dismantled, piece by piece, and the bits sent to your family." He glanced at the guards. "Take him to the first level dungeon. There's a tiny cell there with his name on it."

Frozen in a moment of sheer terror, Aine watched Feich's men drag Saefren Claeg away down the corridor. It took all her will not to cry out, not to drop her Cloak, not to give in to desperation and division, but there was Saefren being taken away into the unknown, and there was Iseabal ebbing into aislinn silence just on the other side of that ornately carved door.

She reached for Isha, frantic, wanting to shake her to awareness, but no awareness answered her.

In the instant she hesitated, Saefren was gone from sight and Aine could only stand and quake, desperately clutching her Cloakweave. Tears started from her eyes before she could stop them. She wanted nothing more than to lie down on the dusty floor and weep.

Aine . . .

She dropped the Cloak. Isha?

Aine, you shouldn't be here.

Aine crossed the hall in two strides to press herself against the door of Iseabal's room. I came to see if you were all right. Oh, but Isha, you're not all right. I've got to get you out of here.

The flash of relief from beyond the door was swiftly smothered in concern. Saefren Claeg was with you? I felt . . . You're afraid for him. Where is he?

Aine visualized Feich, Ruadh and the two guards who had taken Saefren away. Her knees began to tremble.

Aine, you must get him out of here. Feich will murder him! What he has done to Abbod Ladhar, to me, to others . . .

You first, Isha. Let me just unlock this door. Let me- "No!" Aine heard that cry with her ears as well as her aidan senses. Aine, no! You must get Saefren away from Feich. Now! Leave me. I can't come with you.

Leave you! No! Why?

The answer was a flood of stinging physical and mental anguish that strangled the breath in Aine's throat.

I'll carry you out. Papa always said I was built like a horse. I'll carry you and cloak both of us.

Aine, leave me. Saefren can't be left here. He's innocent of anything but trying to help us, foolish as he thought it was. Leave me! As long as Feich believes I'm of some use to him, I'll be safe. He'll waste his time trying to drain something from me that he can never use.

Aine cowered against the door, tears burning her eyes, heart twisting in her breast. Oh, Isha, I can't!

Don't ever say you can't.

Taminy's words. She had said them so long ago, it seemed, at Hrofceaster. Now they came, hauntingly, from Iseabal.

I can't find Saefren. I don't know where they've taken him.

You can sense him.

He has no aidan.

Aine, please! The anguish rolled over Aine again, battering her. Taminy is watching over me. The Meri will care for me. She's put you here to care for Saefren.

He didn't want me to come with him. He doesn't know I'm here.

Then he'll be that much happier to see you. Now, go. Please go! And G.o.d guard you.

Oh, Isha, don't-! she began to plead, but felt the connection between them sever.

In the silence of the broad corridor, Aine crouched against Iseabal's door, quivering with fear and loss and doubt. She was not good at praying; she tended to demand things of G.o.d rather than beg them humbly. But now, here in this alien place, in this nest of enemies, she pleaded without pride for Iseabal's protection, for her own courage, for some sense of where Saefren Claeg was. Then she willed her self to inner silence and got to her feet.

She followed the way the guards had taken and found herself at the top of a staircase. Simple enough; she descended and found herself on the landing of a crossing corridor. She paused in the darkness and made her mind and heart be still.

Saefren. She'd divined his thoughts before, knew their texture and tenor. Knowing the dungeons must be somewhere beneath her feet, she turned her thoughts downward, seeing in her mind's eye an aislinn mist, drifting, settling, seeking.

It was Daimhin Feich she chanced on first-a hot, bright furnace of exultation. Shuddering away from his heat, she blocked Feich from her touch.

Fear-she felt that next and reached for it, thinking it must be Saefren, but it was Ruadh Feich she found at the end of that thread. No time to ponder that.

Aine searched further and dipped into a cold void.

Thoughts were fevered here, flinging about like snow in a blizzard. He pondered neither life nor death, but the tiny closet of a cell his captors forced him into.

Aine moved then, ever downward, clasping the strand that now bound her to Saefren Claeg. It led her to a thick door three times the width of a man, half again as tall. It was ajar and voices came to her from beyond and below.

She closed her eyes.

Gray the veil, white the shroud, black the cloud that hides me.

The flush of aidan that swelled beneath the duan told her no eyes could see her. She waited in the hall as the door swung open and Daimhin Feich exited with his cousin and two other kinsmen.

" . . . found ourselves a perfect hostage," Feich was saying. "Iobert Claeg may be a heretic, but he's still a Claeg. He'll do nothing that will spill one drop of his nephew's precious blood." He laughed-an action shared by all but Ruadh Feich, who glanced uneasily at his cousin before following him away to the upper reaches of Mertuile.

When they were gone, Aine swung the great door open and slipped through onto a landing atop a short flight of steps. At the bottom of the steps, she stood in a nearly square anteroom, its torchlit walls broken by a series of doorways. Voices came to her from a doorway to her right-from that place, too, a path of firelight flickered across the rough stone floor. To the left, an arched portal gaped like a black, toothless mouth.

Saefren was there.

She moved into the inky corridor, pausing only long enough to allow her eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom. She felt her way along the silken, aidan fiber until . . .

She turned and knelt at a narrow, barred doorway. So black was it within she couldn't make out Saefren's form, but she could hear his breathing-heavy and rasping. She could feel his fear now, sharp and chill-fear of this dark, stifling place, fear of strangling.

A chill shook Aine from head to toe. Glancing to make sure she could not be seen from the anteroom, she let go the Cloakweave and wove instead a tiny ball of light that sent soft illumination into the cell. What she saw made her gasp. In a deep niche no wider than a doorway, Saefren was forced to stand, caught about the neck by a thick iron collar. Joined to the frigid stone by only a few links of heavy chain, the collar kept him pinned, motionless, head up, neck at an unnatural angle.

"Aine!" he gasped. "What-?"

"Hush! Save your breath. I'll work on the lock."