Zvain wasn't gone long and came back with a typical village handcart plus a basket of food-and a scant handful of ceramic bit coins that he counted carefully into the dwarf's powerful hand, a degree of honesty that gave Pavek another twinge of doubt. A twinge that faded abruptly when he saw a final bit palmed.

Akashia had fallen asleep while Zvain was scrounging in the market. They tried, and failed to awaken her.

"It's a good thing," Yohan said as he prepared to hoist her over his shoulder. "She feels safe enough now to sleep. She couldn't very well let herself sleep where she was."

But it was disconcerting to see her arms dangling down Yohan's back, limp and lifeless, as he carried her from the bolt-hole to the alley where the cart was waiting.

In the weeks following a Tyr-storm it wasn't uncommon to see people who'd been blinded by the blue-green lightning or maddened by the howling winds. Akashia seemed no different than any other storm victim-or a Laq victim. Pa.s.sersby averted their eyes and twisted their fingers into luck signs as the cart rolled past, but they approached the walls without attracting significant attention.

"You said getting into Urik was the easy part and getting out again would be more difficult. Now, how're we going to get out?" Ruari whispered anxiously to Pavek when the western gate and its complement of templar guards loomed before them. "We didn't register at a village. We didn't come in through a gate gate so we didn't so we didn't give give our thumb-prints to the guards?" our thumb-prints to the guards?"

"We're citizens of Urik, aren't we?" Pavek asked with a grin. "We have the right to visit any village we choose, whenever we choose, for whatever purpose we choose. We'll just smile at the templars as we leave the city, and then just not come back."

Ruari's eyes widened. "That's all? That's all? all? Why does anybody going in either direction ever bother to register? Just say you're a citizen and be done with id" Why does anybody going in either direction ever bother to register? Just say you're a citizen and be done with id"

"Well, well have to bribe them, too," Pavek admitted and fell back a pace to walk beside Yohan. "How much silver have you got left?"

"How much do we need?"

Pavek rubbed his chin. "One silver piece for each of us should be enough. One silver piece for each of them-" he indicated the knot of templars, "and an inspector's likely to offer to pull the cart for us."

Yohan grumbled but dug out seven silver pieces. "I can pull the cart"

The coin purse was nearly flat when four loaded kanks left the open pen of the borderland homestead. Zvain proudly, but somewhat anxiously, rode by himself with the provisions on the fourth kank. Akashia rode behind Ruari. She had not awakened at all during the long, hot walk from the city to the homestead, nor when they lifted her onto the kank's back and contrived to tie her to the saddle like so much precious cargo. With her cloth-bound head resting against Ruari's back and her hands resting limply against his thighs, she was no trouble at all.

And no help either.

"Which way?" Pavek asked.

The sun was sinking in front of them; Urik and the homestead were behind them. They'd gotten this far simply by retracing their steps along the Urik roads. Now Pavek looked out at the wilderness. Nothing looked wrong-how could it when everything looked the same? Nothing felt quite right either, and there was a dark hole in his memory where his home-Akashia's home-should have been.

"You don't know the way?" Zvain sputtered. "You're taking me out into the middle of nowhere to die?"

Ruari answered first: "We know the way. We just can't remember all of it. Grandmother hid the knowledge away when we left for Urik. When we get to the Sun's Fist, then we'll remember."

Zvain seemed satisfied with that answer. Pavek wasn't. He thought Telhami could have trusted him at least as much as she'd trusted a half-wit sc.u.m who'd tried to poison him and then destroyed the zarneeka stowaway.

They guided the kanks in a wide arc to the north and east. The sun set and they made camp. A crackling fire kept the night chill away and turned the food Zvain had provided into a simple feast. Yohan untied the cloth covering Akashia's eyes-over Zvain's objections that firelight would be enough to start the Laq burning behind her eyes again. But the savory aromas that set their mouths watering and made them impatient with each other and the cookpots had no effect on Akashia. Her eyes were open again, but she didn't seem to see the fire or anything else.

"She ate bread last night when I gave it to her," Ruari grumbled when another piece of journey-break slipped unnoticed to the ground between her feet. "She's getting worse, not better."

Zvain nodded. "Laq," he said. "It doesn't take much sometimes. How far do we have to go? How much longer until we get there?"

"A few days." Yohan picked up the journey-break, then threw it in the fire. He put another piece in her hand and, holding her fingers together, maneuvered the food to her lips. Her eyelids fluttered, she took a small bite and, very slowly, began to chew. "We'll make it, Kashi. Grandmother will be waiting for us. She'll take care of you."

Zvain nudged Pavek with his elbow. "Who's this 'Grandmother?'"

"The high druid." He couldn't think of a better description. "She's the one who says when it's time to take zarneeka seeds to Urik. She's the one who can cut the poison off at its root."

"She can heal Akashia?"

"In-" Once again he looked for the word and found darkness instead. "At home, Telhami can do just about anything she wants, Zvain."

"I don't think I want to meet her. I don't think she's going to like me."

"She doesn't like me very much either, but she's teaching me druid magic."

Zvain's mouth dropped open-from awe, Pavek thought, or possibly envy. They'd never talked about such things in the Gold Street bolt-hole. He didn't know if Zvain was one of those who dreamt of magic or one of those who feared it. When Zvain edged away from him and lapsed into morose silence, he decided it must be the latter and wondered if bringing the youth to... home home was a good idea. Faced with a choice between druidry and farming, Zvain might have preferred to remain in Urik. He'd been doing all right for himself mere, apparently. was a good idea. Faced with a choice between druidry and farming, Zvain might have preferred to remain in Urik. He'd been doing all right for himself mere, apparently.

"What did you do after I left?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "Not stealing every day, I hope."

"No, not stealing." The boy stared at his feet a long time, then looked up and said: "I'm tired. I want to go to sleep now."

He curled up in a blanket with his face toward the fire, eyes wide and staring at the flames. He was still staring when they wrapped Akashia in the thickest blanket and settled her between Ruari and Yohan, to keep her warm and to keep her from wandering off in the night.

Pavek laid Dovanne's sword across his lap and took the first watch. Guthay set early. The skies became darker and a handful of shooting stars streaked across the sky.

He leaned over to tell Zvain, to share this small magic with the city-raised boy, but Zvain's eyes were closed now, asleep with his fists tucked childlike beneath his chin and cheek.

The blanket had slipped. Pavek picked up a corner to pull it taut, but Zvain cringed and whimpered when he tried to tuck the cloth beneath those clenched fists.

Not stealing, he'd said. How many ways were there for an orphan youth to survive in Urik? Between what he'd known as a templar and what he'd lived as an orphan himself, Pavek figured he knew them all, and promised himself that he wouldn't ask any more questions. he'd said. How many ways were there for an orphan youth to survive in Urik? Between what he'd known as a templar and what he'd lived as an orphan himself, Pavek figured he knew them all, and promised himself that he wouldn't ask any more questions.

Recalling Yohan with Akashia, he stroked Zvain's hair, murmuring a soft rea.s.surance. But it seemed that his his touch wasn't comforting. The boy started shivering, and Pavek simply left him alone. touch wasn't comforting. The boy started shivering, and Pavek simply left him alone.

They made their way home as steadily as they could when none of them knew exactly where home home was. Akashia was a growing concern, for all, but thanks to Yohan's patience and determination, she neither starved nor grew parched from thirst. Otherwise her condition remained the same: unaware of everything, except sunlight if it chanced to touch her eyes. Then she would flail and scream. was. Akashia was a growing concern, for all, but thanks to Yohan's patience and determination, she neither starved nor grew parched from thirst. Otherwise her condition remained the same: unaware of everything, except sunlight if it chanced to touch her eyes. Then she would flail and scream.

At last, however, the dazzling white expanse of the Sun's Fist flooded their vision with shimmering heat waves, whirlwinds, and a beautiful mirage: a tree-crowned village in the middle of a swaying, green-gra.s.s sea. As the mirage drifted through Pavek's thoughts, into the dark hole, which it filled precisely, he breathed out the single word: "Quraite," He realized he had not spoken alone.

"Quraite?" Zvain asked. "What? Where?"

And they all realized that Telhami had left the mirage strictly for them, to restore their strength and faith, and guide them across the featureless salt flats.

The heat and brilliance of the Sun's Fist was brutal, though not, by his memory, as brutal as it had been the first time Pavek had crossed it, when he hadn't known what lay on the other side. To spare Zvain that anxiety, he'd asked both Ruari and Yohan to describe the guarded lands to a city-bred boy before before they set foot on the salt. they set foot on the salt.

But nothing they said erased the shadows of panic that rimmed Zvain's eyes. When they made a quick camp at sundown to water the kanks and themselves, he asked an exhausted-looking Zvain if he would prefer to ride the last leg of the journey with him or Yohan.

"I'll be all right. I'll be fine once I see Quraite with my own eyes."

Zvain got that chance not long after dawn when the mirage and the village merged. The whole village, druids and farmers alike, had turned out to greet them as they approached the fertile green fields.

"This is home," Ruari cried eagerly. "This is Quraite. It can't hurt Kashi's eyes!" And he tugged the cloth down until it hung below her chin and circled her neck.

The half-elf was wrong. Akashia shrieked with pain and terror, but they were within the larger expanse of Quraite now, where the land itself was a living thing, and where the guardian would carry Telhami wherever she wished in an instant.

The kank skittered when Telhami materialized at its side. But a bug's panic was no match for Telhami's determination to see Akashia for herself. The creature trilled once, then stood stock-still. The claws of all six feet dug into the ground as Telhami approached.

Kashi's screams had ceased. She sat motionless in front of Ruari, face buried in her hands, and moaned. Pavek and Yohan jumped down from their kanks and with Ruari's help lowered Akashia to the ground.

"Let me see her," Telhami commanded, and dropped down beside Akashia.

There was no druidry in the old woman's movements as she gathered Akashia in her arms and held her against her ancient b.r.e.a.s.t.s. No magic or mind-bending at all until, in her gentle efforts to move Kashi's fists, she brushed against the knotted cloth around Kashi's neck.

"What is this?"

Telhami's voice was barely audible, though Pavek stood opposite her with Ruari and Yohan flanking him. Taking the linen strip in both hands, she yanked once and the knot undid itself. The ends of the cloth fluttered in a breeze Pavek couldn't feel, then Telhami tossed it aside. With absent-minded curiosity, Pavek bent down to retrieve it.

"Later."

Her voice was still a whisper, but the most powerful and frightening whisper he'd ever heard. The hat turned toward his hand, and he was grateful for the veil that hid Telhami's face. "Help me," she said in the same awesome voice, this time to Ruari, who fell to his knees opposite her and held out his hands.

She called upon the guardian in a series of short, powerful invocations, and it came like a whirlwind rising out of the ground. Pavek's legs vibrated from the force surging through Ruari. Ruari himself cried out as the power whipped through his body, but his hands held steady and, just before it seemed the copper-haired youth would burst, Telhami began a different invocation, and the guardian's shaped energy leapt from their clasped hands to Akashia.

For a heartbeat it seemed that the land itself would open to engulf them all, then, as suddenly as the spellcraft had begun, it was over. Ruari slumped against Pavek's leg-hard-he needed all his strength and determination to keep his balance against the weight.

Telhami sat back on her heels, her hands resting palms-up in her lap, each fingertip shiny with blood. But for all their efforts-hers, Ruari's, and the guardian's-Akashia lay still, peaceful as a corpse.

Squatting on one knee, Yohan extended his hand slowly toward her face and traced the curve of her cheek and jaw. Blue-green eyes blinked open once, twice, and focused.

"Yohan," Kashi said, raising her hand to clasp his before he could withdraw it. "Yohan."

The celebration ended before it had begun. Telhami seized the linen cloth.

"Who did this? Who soaked this cloth in halfling poisons?" That terrible hollow sound was back in her voice. "Who tied this around her eyes?"

"I-I did, Grandmother," Ruari stammered, still sitting on the ground and clearly too terrified to lie.

The half-elf had tied the cloth each morning, but he wasn't the one who made it. Pavek stood, taller even than the kanks, while the others sat or knelt. He could see farthest, and he began to look for the dark-haired boy-who wasn't beside them.

"Zvain made it." He spotted the boy, then, doubled over; on the ground a hundred or so paces away. Zvain's arms were outstretched on the ground beyond his head, pointing toward the trees of Quraite. He seemed to be praying, as well he should.

He shouted the boy's name.

Kashi echoed him and added another name "Escrissar!" as she struggled to rise. She couldn't stand, but she could crawl and growl like some enraged beast in the arena.

Time itself slowed as Pavek's thoughts charged toward a single inescapable, yet incomprehensible conclusion. Zvain wasn't praying. Zvain was doing his desperate best to establish a mind-bending linkage between himself and Elabon Escrissar.

It had to be Escrissar; it accounted, justified, explained why Akashia recognized him, why the sight of him filled her with such fear at first and such vengeful determination now.

And it explained the boy's behavior since he'd appeared in the bolt-hole-so eager to please, to be helpful, to make certain that they'd bring him to Quraite, the secret Akashia had suffered so grievously to protect.

And as the toes of his sandals dug into the hard ground, driving him toward that corruption in the form of innocent youth, he had time to dunk, time to remember his now-and-again suspicions, and to remember how expertly Zvain had transformed those suspicions into guilt.

They'd learn soon enough how Zvain had fallen in with Escrissar: for the sluggish moment, all that mattered was that Zvain had mastered the interrogator's insidious craft, and that he be stopped before the connection between his mind and Escrissar's was complete.

Air burned in Pavek's lungs as time's slow movement corrected himself.

He was running recklessly, over-reaching with every stride. Zvain had risen to his knees, his hands clenched high above him.

And Pavek was only halfway there.

He stretched himself to his limit and beyond. The sole of his left sandal skidded on a loose stone; he lurched and twisted to keep his balance-felt muscles tear deep in his side-but his right foot landed solidly, and he kept going until a blast of hot, dry air exploded in his face.

The last thing he saw before his chin struck the ground was Zvain collapsing in a boneless heap under the whirling force that was Telhami's staff.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"I told him!" Zvain shouted, his voice filled with the intense hatred of youth-betrayed. "I told him where you are. He's seen it in my mind. He's coming with an army of ten thousand men and giants. It doesn't matter what you do to me. You're all going to die. Quraite's going to die. Everything's going to die."

His nose and lips bloodied by Telhami's staff, the boy backed away from his druid accusers, directly into one of farmers who had formed a tight and solemn ring around the scene. The woman seized him and flung him back into the circle. He stumbled, but pulled himself together to stand, defiant and terrified, some four paces in front of Telhami and Akashia.

Pavek himself stood a bit to one side, not in the farmer's constraining circle, nor among the outraged druids. Zvain had looked his way more than once with wide, unreadable eyes. He'd met the boy's stare, figuring he owed him that much.

He still didn't know how Zvain's path had crossed Escrissar's or how he'd been seduced into an alliance with the ultimate Laq-seller. Telhami hadn't asked. Telhami wasn't interested in such small details. Quraite had been betrayed, and Akashia had been tormented; that was all that mattered. The laws of Athas, whether in Urik or Quraite, made no exceptions for children. Mercy was a rare gift, and, looking it Akashia's hard, unforgiving frown, not one Zvain was likely to receive.

Nor one he deserved- "Take him to my grove," Telhami p.r.o.nounced coldly. "The guardian will make him useful again."

"Stay away!" Zvain held one hand palm-out, then dug beneath his shirt with both hands. When his hands reappeared, a dull gray powder leaked from one small, shaking fist and a dull brown powder from the other. "I'm a-a defiler! defiler! I know a spell that will destroy you all if you touch me." I know a spell that will destroy you all if you touch me."

Telhami was unmoved. "Take him to my grove," she repeated, nodding toward Yohan.

The dwarf strode forward, his faith in Telhami apparently stronger than his fear of the magic Zvain claimed to command.

Zvain's eyes widened, his lips trembled, then tightened into a pout as he defiantly mixed the powders together.

Telhami did nothing to stop him.

The boy's eyes squeezed shut, and he began to recite dark spellcraft syllables from that other, unfamiliar magical tradition that, by everything Pavek understood, drew its energy and power from the life essences of green plants. Those who were called preservers somehow managed to draw small amounts of energy from many plants without damaging any of them seriously. Defilers left only ash.

Quraite was plants. The most conscientious preserver could wreak havoc without depleting its green-life essence. A defiler's power, even with a small spell, might be unlimited.

And still, Telhami's calm remained.

But Pavek's breath stuck in his throat as Zvain lifted his hands, and the hot wind off the salt flats carried the powder away, and- Nothing happened.

There was no magic.