The pa.s.sageway was sh.o.r.ed with timber and brick-paved. Nothing moved around them but their shadows, and there was no sound but the whisper of shoe leather against the bricks and Ilar's labored breathing.

Seregil had ample time to study the rhekaro as they went, or at least the back of it. Its thin legs looked bone white in the candle's wavering glow. A lock of hair had escaped from the scarf; it hung below the thing's waist and shimmered like silver.

What in Bilairy's name are you? he wondered, thinking of the writhing pile of dirt, stained with Alec's blood. No good could come of that! Why was Alec so adamant on having it? he wondered, thinking of the writhing pile of dirt, stained with Alec's blood. No good could come of that! Why was Alec so adamant on having it?

Because it looks like a child, of course. And Alec had seen one tortured to death. No wonder he'd refused to abandon this one. And Alec had seen one tortured to death. No wonder he'd refused to abandon this one. Trust me, Trust me, he'd said. And Alec had never given him reason not to. Ilar was a different matter, and Seregil kept a close eye on him. he'd said. And Alec had never given him reason not to. Ilar was a different matter, and Seregil kept a close eye on him.

The way ran more or less level for some time, and then began to slant up sharply. Seregil guessed they'd gone nearly a mile by the time the pa.s.sage ended at a door similar to the one they'd left behind. The lock was the same and Seregil soon tickled it open.

"Put out your light."

When it was dark, he softly opened the door a crack and peered through. It was just as dark beyond, but a slight breeze carried the smell of horses.

A shaft like the one in the workshop led up to a trap door. Seregil pushed it up just enough to see. It was heavy, and the smell was much stronger now.

They were in a large stable. A flyspecked lantern on a nail illuminated the glossy haunches of several horses in stalls. s.h.i.t apples and straw covered the floor and the trapdoor. Bits of muck fell down the shaft, eliciting mutters of protest from below.

He lifted the trapdoor up a little further, braced for an outcry, but heard nothing but the night sounds of the horses.

"Stay down," he whispered to the others, then pushed the trap all the way back and climbed up.

The stable spoke of money and t.i.tle, and the horses were good ones. Treading softly, he discovered a young ostler asleep with a jug in a stall near the door. Seregil could smell the wine on him from two yards off.

He crept back to the shaft and motioned the others up. Ilar came first, then Alec, straining a little now under the slight weight of the rhekaro.

Seregil pointed to the drunken ostler, and then motioned for them to follow him out. He kept a close eye on the drunkard, poniard at the ready, but the man never stirred.

Outside they found a well-kept farmyard and corral, and a slope-roofed little cottage with darkened windows. A larger house stood on a nearby rise-a hunting lodge, perhaps, and also dark. This Yhakobin fellow was well prepared for a hasty departure should he ever need to make one.

Wary of watchdogs, Seregil led the way across a small onion patch and an herb garden, and into the shadow of a small orchard just beyond. A few apples still hung from the branches. They paused here and picked a few, letting the juice soothe their dry throats.

Ilar plucked nervously at his slave collar as he ate, as if the weight of it pressed on him more now that they were fugitives. Alec unwrapped the rhekaro from its sling and set it on its feet. It hunkered down beside him, completely still.

Seregil wanted more than anything to grab Alec, check him for damage, and never let go. After all the weeks of uncertainty and abuse, he ached to hold him and be held. If Ilar and the rhekaro hadn't been there, he probably would have, and d.a.m.n the danger.

It hurt a little that Alec seemed more engrossed in caring for the unnatural creature. Seregil watched jealously as he bit off a small piece of apple and offered it to the rhekaro. The creature just stared at it, as if it had never seen food before.

As Seregil watched, Alec took out his knife and nicked the end of his own finger, then held it out. The creature grasped it eagerly and sucked it like a teat.

Seregil grimaced. "It eats blood?"

"His name is Sebrahn."

"Oh lovely. You've named it."

"That's right. And it's my blood he eats. Just mine. That's why I couldn't leave him. He'd starve. It's all right, though. He never needs very much. See? He's done."

The rhekaro sat back and licked a last dark smear from its colorless lips. Its tongue looked grey in this light.

"Bilairy's b.a.l.l.s." Seregil leaned over and pulled off the rhekaro's head scarf. Silvery white hair tumbled down its back, so long it brushed the ground behind it. "More hair to cut."

"I'm not sure it will do any good."

"Oh?"

"Things-grow back."

The child-like thing was watching Seregil now, its eyes white and blank as a corpse's in the starlight. Seregil's every instinct warned him to get Alec as far away from it as possible.

"Why didn't you kill the ostler so we could steal the horses?" Ilar whispered, eyeing them both as if they'd gone mad.

"If I wanted to leave no doubt of where we'd been, that's exactly what I'd do," Seregil snapped, taking it out on him. "Next you'll be leading us back to the seaport to find a ship. And eat that apple core or bury it. They'll have trackers on us soon enough."

"Where are we going, then?"

"Let me worry about that."

"You still don't trust me? I helped you!"

Seregil bit back an angry retort. If it had been just the two of them, he could have just stuck a knife in the man and been done with him. Ilar had served his purpose, after all. He was nothing but useless baggage now. Still, hiding the body would be a bother, not to mention the time it would take to calm Alec down.

"We've got to get as far as we can tonight and find a good place to lie up. And get these off." He tugged irritably at the iron collar around his neck. "Is there any magic in them?"

"Not that I know of," Ilar replied. "But you won't find a smith who'll do the job."

"I'm pretty handy with a chisel. We just need to find the tools. And what about these?" He pulled his sleeve back, uncovering the brand. "I suppose we could cut them off. Or burn them over."

"That's the first thing a slave taker looks for. When a slave is freed, that mark is branded over with another, larger one, to prove he's free."

"What sort of mark?" asked Alec.

"The crest of his master."

Seregil ran a hand back through his ragged hair. "No easy solution there, then, unless we can find one to steal. Stay here, both of you."

Leaving Alec to keep Ilar under control, Seregil made his way back the way they'd come. After some searching, he found the tools he needed in a lean-to next to the cottage. If there were dogs here, they certainly weren't worth much as guards.

He returned to find the rhekaro curled up beside Alec with its head in his lap. It wasn't sleeping, though. Its eyes followed Seregil as he approached, shining like a cat's.

"These will have to do," he said, holding up the small mallet and a cold chisel. He waved the mallet at Ilar. "You first." If he was going to make any serious mistakes, it wasn't going to be on Alec's neck.

Seregil found a suitably large rock and had Ilar lay his head on it, bracing the loose part of the collar against the crude anvil.

"Hold still," he warned as he set the chisel point against the riveted seam in the metal.

The hammerblows were dangerously loud, but he struck well and severed the joint in three tries without doing any significant harm to Ilar. It took him and Alec together to wrench it open enough for Ilar to slip out of it. There was a ring of pale, shiny flesh around his neck where the golden collar had rubbed for so long, and a wider band of reddened skin from the new one.

Seregil had a fleeting urge to smooth his fingers over it.

Ilar raised a hand to his throat. "It feels so strange, not having it there. Thank you."

"It had to be done," Seregil replied gruffly. "You next, Alec."

When that was done, he handed Alec the tools and held his breath as Alec struck off the hated metal band. When it was off he rubbed gratefully at his own neck. "That's better!"

Ilar was still doing the same, but now he looked more frightened than grateful.

"What's the matter? Do you miss it already?"

Ilar was trembling. "If we're caught without these..."

"If we're caught, that will be the least of our worries."

He left Alec to bury the broken collars and took the tools back where he'd found them, not wanting to leave the slightest clue behind. As he made his way back to the orchard, he found himself picturing Ilar's grateful smile again.

What is wrong with me?

They set off again, striking east, away from Riga.

"What are you doing?" Ilar demanded, balking almost immediately. "Mycena is north, and the coast that way! You're just leading us deeper into Plenimar."

"Then stay here," Seregil muttered. "Of course, I'd have to kill you."

As he'd expected, Ilar fell into step behind them, walking in sullen silence.

Alec caught Seregil's eye and made the hand sign for "Aurenen." Seregil nodded. If they could make it to the Strait and steal a boat, they could cross to Viresse, or better yet, coast along to Gedre, where they were a.s.sured of a warmer welcome.

He shot the rhekaro a dark look. And what will they make of you? And what will they make of you?

Alec, the better guide outside of a city, took the lead. The clouds were clearing and he kept the stars of the Great Hunter over his left shoulder to keep them going east. He wasn't troubled by Sebrahn's slight weight, or the odd coolness his little body gave off instead of heat. It was the simmering tension brewing between all of them that worried him.

The night air was cold enough that they could see their breath in front of them. It was poor country for shelter or hiding. Trees were spa.r.s.e, and the few villages they pa.s.sed were mean little places.

Seregil was grim, and Khenir wisely kept his mouth shut, though he was obviously in pain. Alec could feel the tension crackling between the two of them. And no wonder, if he'd understood Ahmol and Yhakobin correctly. He tried to keep his mind on the way in front of them, but his heart was in turmoil. This wasn't how he'd envisioned his reunion with his talimenios; Seregil was distant and clearly upset by Sebrahn's presence, as well as his obvious loathing of Khenir.

Alec felt betrayed. Hadn't there been signs enough that Khenir had lied to him? But deep down inside, he was also sorry to have his worst suspicions about the man realized.

When Khenir began to lag behind, however, it was Seregil who fell back and took his arm to support him.

"Are you going to kill me now?" Alec heard Khenir whisper.

"Shut up and keep walking," Seregil growled back.

They'd gone another mile or so when he heard the sound of moving water. Veering to the right, he soon found a small spring. Alec put Sebrahn down to the ground and stretched, easing his stiff shoulders. Ilar collapsed where he was, shaking with exhaustion.

The spring water was sweet and cold. Each drank his fill, then sat a while to rest. Seregil settled beside Alec and hugged him close, obviously not caring what the others might think. Alec hugged him back. Khenir watched them with an almost hungry expression.

Alec glared back at him. "All that time, you knew, and you lied to me."

"I-I didn't dare tell you," Khenir stammered. "Not while we were still in that house. Once Ilban had freed me, I would have explained."

"I'm sure you would have, and enjoyed it, too," Seregil said, in that dangerously calm tone that always boded ill for someone. "There's a lot you didn't tell him, isn't there? Alec, I'd like to introduce you to an old friend of mine. This is Ilar i Sontir."

For a long moment Alec felt numb. Then the pieces began to fall into place. "Then...why is he still alive?"

Seregil sighed. "When I figure that out, I'll let you know."

Alec barely heard him. He jumped to his feet, sword drawn, and advanced on the cowering slave. "Ilar? Ilar? Ilar? You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! The spoon, and those walks...You played with me and lied to me, and all the time..." You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! The spoon, and those walks...You played with me and lied to me, and all the time..."

Seregil caught him before he lunged at Ilar, locking his arms around Alec's chest as he fought to get loose. "Listen to me! Right now we need to find somewhere to hide before the sun comes up." Seregil held him fast and brought his lips close to Alec's ear. "Trust me, too, tali."

Alec lowered his sword, but any compa.s.sion he'd felt for his false protector was gone. Ilar was now his betrayer, too.

Seregil took Alec by the arm and drew him away from the others.

"Let it go, tali," Seregil whispered. "Ilar's a silky customer, and always was. Whatever happened between you-"

"You think something happened?" Alec sputtered, stung by the notion.

"I saw you two down in the garden, by the fish pool," Seregil told him, sounding pained to have to speak of it.

Alec took his hand. "He tried to seduce me. Even though I trusted him then, I wouldn't betray you. I wasn't even tempted."

Seregil raked his fingers back through his shorn hair, the way he did when he was particularly uncomfortable or exasperated. "It's all right. But I remember what he was like-what he's still like."

"And yet you didn't kill him?"

"You stopped me, remember?"

Alec clenched his fists in frustration. "And now we have to anyway, or keep dragging him along so he doesn't betray us."

Even in this light he could make out Seregil's strained little half smile. "I've never been much for killing in cold blood, and neither are you. I suppose we're stuck with him, at least until we're far enough away from Yhakobin that it doesn't matter."

"I still don't understand. You always said you'd kill him on sight!"

Seregil shook his head. "I've seen his scars, tali, and what's been done to him all these years. He's not the man I remember. He's-broken."

"You pity pity him?" him?"

"You're no more surprised than I am. But what could I do to him that his life here hasn't done already?"

Alec paused, trying to take that in. "Were you with him, all the time we were apart?"

"No, not for the first part. There was an old woman who looked after me while I was sick."

"I saw you, on the ship. At first I thought you were dead."