She leaned in even closer and Silverdun could smell the wine on her breath. "Now, you must tell me, Silverdun. If I recall correctly, the last I heard you were ... indisposed."

There it was. Lady Amecu knew all about him. She was letting him know that she carried his fate in her hands and that he was now completely at her mercy.

"You know how rumors get started," said Silverdun helplessly. "In point of fact I've been here in the East managing some old family lands. I just had to get away from it all, you know. I see that my enemies at court are spreading slander, as I suppose they must."

"So, you mean to say that you were not convicted of treason and shipped off to Crete Sulace?"

It was out on the table now. There was no way to avoid it.

"What do you want?" he said.

"Oh, I think you know what I want," said Lady Amecu. She pressed her more than ample bosom against his arm and Silverdun suppressed a groan. "I'm drunk and you're handsome and I believe I hold your very life in my hands, do I not? I'm told that can make a woman quite attractive."

Silverdun had to admit she had a point.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said.

"Of course."

Silverdun took Faella by the arm and marched her quickly over to where Satterly and Raieve sat, at a small table in the corner of the room. Raieve was scowling and Satterly looked as though he'd rather be just about anywhere else. "Look after her for a moment," said Silverdun, sitting Faella next to Raieve. "There's a bit of business I must attend to."

"What's going on, Silverdun?" said Faella, her face awash in hurt.

"I won't be but a moment," he said. "Save the next dance for me."

When it was over, Silverdun found his way to the washroom and stripped naked, washing himself from head to toe and then looking at himself in the mirror.

"The things I do for Queen and country," he said.

Ah, well. He'd done worse.

That night Silverdun and Faella made love again, and the unpleasant business with Lady Amecu finally faded from his mind. With a few glasses of wine he found himself able to return to the daydream he'd experienced on the dance floor.

"I had no idea," he said afterward, "how powerful a thing it was to be on a stage. It was intoxicating."

Faella turned to lie on her side and looked at him, tousling his hair in the firelight. "More intoxicating than I?"

"Impossible," he said. He kissed her elbow.

"You're right," Faella said. "There is no feeling like it. I was hoping you'd think so."

"Were you?"

"Of course. Think of it, Perrin. Faella and Lord Silverdun together, on stage. We could ditch the rest of them and continue as a duet. I don't want to perform in these tiny places anymore. I want to perform in Sylvan, Selafae, the City Emerald!" She rolled onto her back. "I would even travel to the city of Mab and perform in the Queen's tent itself. As a goodwill gesture."

"That sounds like a lovely idea," said Silverdun. He held her tight.

"I'm serious, Perrin." Faella rolled back on her side and looked into his eyes. "I want to do this. With you. Now."

Silverdun laughed. "You move quickly, darling! Why don't we worry about tonight and take the rest as it comes?"

Faella sat up. "Forgive me, Lord Silverdun, but I thought this meant something, you and I."

Silverdun's laugh faded. "It does mean something. It's lovely. But it's not something you want to base a career choice on."

Faella's face grew pinched. "But Perrin, it would be so wonderful. Just the two of us. Say you'll come with me."

"I can't, Faella. I have a duty to perform."

"I don't care about that."

"But I do."

She took her dress from the floor and worried at the hem of it. "I thought I thought I would be yours."

Silverdun sighed. "You belong to no one."

Faella stood and began to dress.

"Wait, darling," said Silverdun. "Don't be upset. Not everything is meant to be. I'm sorry if I've misled you. It wasn't my intention."

She sat back down on the edge of the bed. "No, you're right. I was just being silly."

"Good," he said, reaching for her. "Come back to bed and forget all that."

Faella smiled, her eyebrows raised, and crawled beneath the covers next to Silverdun.

When he awoke in the predawn of the following morning, Silverdun found himself alone. He stood and dressed in the pale light, washing his face in the basin. All of Faella's things were gone.

He looked in the mirror and there was something on it, red lines over the silvered surface. Silverdun flared witchlight from his fingers and read it. It was a message from Faella, written in scarlet rouge. "Be as ugly out as in."

Silverdun refocused his eyes on his own reflection. The man staring back at him was not Perrin Alt, Lord Silverdun. His proud chin was now sunken and pitted with scars. His cheeks were pale. His nose, once straight and patrician, had become a short, bent thing that huddled on his face. Scowling, he reached deep within himself to let loose whatever glamour Faella had placed on him. He felt around his face for the loose threads of illusion and could not find them. There was nothing there. It wasn't a glamour.

how silverdun appears.

Why would I believe that you're Silverdun?" said Raieve, frowning from behind her raised sword. She stood at the entrance to the public stable, where inside the others were preparing the horses. "You don't look a thing like him, and you don't sound like him either."

The man in front of her wore a dark scowl that certainly reminded Raieve of Silverdun, even if his unpleasant appearance wasn't a match.

"It's me, Raieve. Lower your blade." The man made a lowering motion with two outstretched hands. "Faella did this to me. We had a disagreement, and I suppose this is her crafty method of punishment."

"If it's a glamour, then remove it."

"I can't. It's not a glamour."

"Then we have a problem."

Satterly, Mauritane, and Gray Mave appeared at the wide stable door, leading all five mounts by the reins. The morning was dawning misty and gray, the sun buried somewhere behind the ash-colored sky. Even so, the temperature had risen above freezing during the night, and the streets were infused with the sound of melting snow and ice dripping onto the cobblestones.

"Who's this?" said Mauritane.

Raieve kept her eyes and her weapon trained on the stranger. "He says he's Silverdun."

"I am Silverdun," the man said. "Faella did this to me."

"How do we know you're Silverdun?" said Satterly, stroking his chin. "Tell me something only Silverdun would know."

"Such as?" said the would-be Silverdun.

"What did I have for breakfast yesterday?" Satterly raised his eyebrows.

"How on earth should I know? Watching you eat is too repellant an act to make a habit of it. Besides, I was busy being scolded by Nafaeel for succumbing to his shrew of a daughter."

"Certainly sounds like Silverdun," noted Gray Mave.

"As I was telling Raieve," the stranger said, "Faella did something to me. It's not a glamour. I can't remove it."

"If not a glamour, then what?" said Mauritane. "Some kind of spirit curse or hex?"

"I don't know," said the stranger, "but it's me, and we're in a hurry, so let's be on our way."

"Just a moment," said Mauritane. "I believe that you are who you say you are, but the nature of our mission requires proof."

"What about the horses?" said Satterly, after a moment's thought.

"How do you mean?" said Mauritane.

" Silverdun's horse should recognize his scent. If the curse, or whatever it is, altered his smell along with his appearance, then it's awfully subtle."

"I agree, but let's get away from the stable," said Mauritane. "I think we're beginning to draw attention."

Indeed, a few of the townspeople had stopped to watch the confrontation. Raieve dismissed them with an ugly look and Mauritane led them away from the stable, into a deserted square near the main spire.

Mauritane leaned close and whispered into Streak's ear. The horse shook his mane and nodded, whispering something back that only Mauritane could understand. Streak nuzzled Silverdun's roan, Adequate, and made a series of chuffing sounds.

"Hold out your hand," said Mauritane.

The man raised his hand to Adequate's nose, and the animal sniffed at it, licked it once. Adequate turned to Streak and let out a single low grunt.

"It's him," said Mauritane. "Or an amazing facsimile."

"Oh, please," said Silverdun. "If I were an imposter, why on earth would I do such a terrible job of copying my likeness? I don't even resemble myself!"

"Maybe you're very bad at illusions," said Satterly. "And this is an elaborate ruse."

"Are all humans as annoying as you?" said Silverdun, pulling his hair back and tying it with a bit of ribbon.

"I'm convinced," said Satterly.

"Enough," said Mauritane. "I'm assured that this is Silverdun. If we discover later that he is not, we're four and he is one. Until then, let's return to our mission. There is much to be done this morning."

"Is the deal arranged, Mauritane?" said Silverdun.

"It is. We're to meet a guard named Edi at the tavern."

"And you got the money from Nafaeel?"

"I did," said Mauritane, patting his sabretache. "And a good thing I got it last night, because this morning there's no sign of him. The entire troupe packed up and left town during the night."

"Really?" said Silverdun. "What a surprise."

The guard Edi was a thick-waisted career guardsman with a scruffy beard and not a single braid in his tousled hair. Mauritane was suspicious of him from the first, perhaps because he'd known a few of the guardsmen in Selafae who were willing to take a bribe, and he wouldn't have turned his back to a single one of them. Still, Edi was a necessary evil, and Mauritane had no choice but to deal with him. Thorough checks were being made at all of the city's exits; even the mestina couldn't have helped them leave.

"I can take you as far as the border," he said. "But if we meet any patrols en route, they'll require something in exchange for looking the other way as well." Edi slouched in his seat. A glass of wine sat on the table in front of him even though the morning bell had only just rung.

"We had a deal," said Mauritane. "One hundred in silver for your help. You never mentioned anything beyond that."

"The one hundred is for my help. Unfortunately, you'll need more than my help to make it out of Estacana today." He sighed. "But if you don't want togo...

"Fine," said Mauritane. "Just know that if there is any deception, my blade will find you first."

Edi whistled. "You must trust, sire. Without trust, where are we?"

Edi led them out of the city through a wide-open aqueduct, a stone channel that began at the city's central cistern and meandered through the city, elevated on arched pilings, then cut through the city wall and into the farmland beyond. The horses splashed in knee-high frigid water, scared of the echoes that reverberated in the curved space.

A pair of guards stationed by the aqueduct's egress from the city paid them no attention as they passed through the opening in the wall, only nodding at Edi as he rode by. The high stone channel angled downward from the wall until it came even with the ground on a gradual slope. Here, high juniper bushes surrounded the aqueduct, and Mauritane could just make out farms beyond them, empty fields lying useless beneath a blanket of snow.

At a break in the shrubbery, Edi nudged his horse up the slope of the canal and through the juniper branches, motioning for them to follow him. They emerged onto a narrow path that skirted the fence line of the farmland, where the snow was broken by several sets of fresh tracks.

"Morning patrol," said Edi, shrugging. "They're friends of mine. It's not a problem."

The path followed the aqueduct for several miles, broken by irrigation canals that extended from the main canal and ran beneath wooden bridges. The horses' hooves made thick, hollow sounds on the wood. Otherwise, the fields were silent.

Mauritane allowed the others to pull ahead, nodding to Silverdun to hang back with him.