Before he could think better of it, Calen glanced down. They were still up at a dizzying distance, but that wasn't the only thing that made him gasp sharply. He could see the tiny tops of trees, and what had to be another clearing in the woods, but there were also a" shapes a" moving below them. He looked at Meg; she was staring down in confusion. "What are those things?" he shouted. She only shook her head, still staring.

They were big, whatever they were. As Jakl dropped closer, Calen kept expecting the dark moving shapes to resolve themselves into something recognizable, but they did not. He was beginning to get a bad feeling.

He leaned close to Meg, putting his mouth beside her ear.

"I think we should go!" he shouted. Meg nodded slowly, her eyes still locked on the scene below. Jakl was circling now, no longer descending but not yet moving on, either.

Suddenly a terrible scream pierced the air around them. Meg sagged back against him. "Oh, G.o.ds, no," she said. She spoke softly, but her face was close enough to his that he could make out her words clearly.

"What is it?" he asked. "Meg, what is it?" The sound of the scream still lingered in his ears, in his mind, like an oily residue. He had never heard anything make a scream like that. He did not wish to hear it again.

"It's the thing from the garden," she said. "The monster. Another one. But there are so many. . . ."

Calen felt his eyes widen. If each of those lumbering dark shapes was one of those terrible creatures . . . A horrible thought occurred to him. "Meg, they can't fly, can they? That thing that attacked you. Did it have wings?"

She stared at him. "No. I don't think so." He saw her struggling to remember. "No. It didn't have wings."

They looked back down toward the ground. Now that they knew what they were seeing, they could make out heads and bodies. There were smaller shapes a" people? a" mixed in among the larger ones. Some of the larger heads seemed to be looking up.

Looking up at them.

"Time to go," Calen said. "Time to go right now."

Meg nodded again and leaned forward. She didn't say anything, but Jakl began climbing once again, moving quickly toward the layer of clouds. Another terrible scream sounded from below. Calen couldn't help it. He twisted around to look over his shoulder.

One of the shapes had separated itself from the others. As he watched, transfixed by fear, it unfurled long, black wings from its misshapen body. They glistened slickly in the sunlight. The wings slowly pumped once, twice, and then the thing lumbered awkwardly into the air.

"Meg," Calen managed. "Oh, G.o.ds, Meg. This one has wings."

She didn't hear him, couldn't hear above the rush of wind, but then the thing screamed at them again, a challenge, and Jakl turned to meet it. "Jakl, no!" Meg started, then broke off in horror when saw what was coming for them. The dragon arched his neck and back, bringing his legs up before him. "Hold on!" Meg shouted. Calen didn't need to be told. He was already clutching her desperately, praying that she had a tight hold on the dragon, or they would both be lost. He felt the dragon's abdomen swell beneath them. Jakl inhaled deeply and then let loose a spray of steaming, clotted spittle. Meg was shaking her head. He thought she was crying. It was too early; Jakl didn't have his fire yet. They were all three going to die.

The thing from the ground was close enough now that Calen could see its awful face, a lumped-together heap of flesh and teeth and tiny red eyes. It opened its mouth to scream again, and Calen buried his head against Meg's back. The sound tore through the air, through them; he could feel the vile a.s.sault of it like a knife, like a hundred knives, and his fingers wanted to go slack in their grip from pain and terror. He forced them to hold on and screamed himself, in fear, in defiance, in prayer, spitting out the dirty strands of Meg's hair he'd inhaled to scream again. Meg was screaming too, but her screams had words to them. "Don't let it touch you!" she was screaming. "Don't let it get you with its claws!" She was thinking of the poison, he supposed. Personally he was more concerned about the teeth.

Jakl roared a warning at the approaching monstrosity, but it had seen his lack of fire and was not afraid. Calen lifted his head, compelled to watch their quickly closing doom. Even if he could clear his racing mind enough to work a spell, there was nothing useful he could cast. Lighting candles and slamming doors were one thing, but a" He caught his breath suddenly. Candles. Lighting candles. Why hadn't this ever occurred to him before? He had fire of his own. Maybe not the devastating stream that Jakl would have one day, if he survived long enough, but at close range, even a little flame could cause a bit of damage.

The shock of this realization distracted him momentarily from the horror approaching, and Calen made full use of his sudden feeling of detachment. He focused inward, and in a blink his mind was clear and ready. The monster was close now, and Meg was still screaming warnings and instructions at her dragon, but everything was muted and far away as Calen studied the problem before him. There, he thought. Long, pointed, whiskerlike quills sprouted from several surfaces of the thing's head and face. He picked one and stared at it, blocking out everything else. It's a wick. A long, ugly wick, and lighting wicks with flame was the first lesson I ever learned. A glance, a thought directing the energy, and it was done. The quill ignited, bursting into flame that rose up before the creature's eyes. He hoped it could feel the pain through its tough-looking leathery skin, but even if it couldn't, the shock of suddenly being on fire was at least enough to distract it.

Jakl seized his advantage, striking out with his front talons and swiping at the thing's head. The monster dodged, reducing the strike to just a glancing blow, but it fell back, still shaking its head in an attempt to clear the flame.

"Fly!" Meg screamed. "Jakl, fly! Go now! It can't match you for speed!"

She had to be right. Calen had seen how awkwardly it flew, as if still figuring out how to use its thick, uneven wings. Jakl turned and shot into the sky like an arrow, straight and true. When the thing behind them screamed again in rage and fury, the sound was faint and lacking most of its paralyzing force. It was a long time, long after they were sure they had left the creature behind, before Jakl sought the ground once more.

MEG WALKED SLOWLY THROUGH THE COURTYARD, keeping to the shadows and trying to be both invisible and silent. This was not at all the triumphant return she had envisioned. Soaring through the sun-bright sky on her dragon's back, she had pictured them landing right before the main gates, in full view of everyone, then bursting into the throne room to announce Sen Eva and Wilem's villainy before her parents, the guards, and any visiting pet.i.tioners who happened to be present. She imagined all the listeners' horrified faces, her parents' expressions turning to grim determination as they sent soldiers to collect the traitors. Sen Eva would be sobbing when they dragged her in, Wilem pleading for his life, but it would be no use. She would have watched, smiling, as they were executed on the spot.

Calen had made her see that it was, perhaps, not the best plan. She smiled ruefully in the dark. For someone with no political experience whatsoever, Calen admittedly had thought things through far more carefully than she had. For one thing, it seemed best not to let Sen Eva and Wilem know they had returned. Better to let them go on believing their secret was safe and not give them any warning that their plot was about to be revealed. If Sen Eva really was a mage, and Calen seemed certain that she was, there was no telling what she might resort to if she knew her plans were ruined.

For another thing, Calen had pointed out that now didn't seem the best time to reveal Jakl to her parents. With the murder plans and all, they would have enough to occupy them without throwing a dragon into the mix. Meg was more than happy to agree with that. She would wait until after the wedding, when things had calmed down.

Meg couldn't help chafing at the idea of letting more time go by a" it had taken them through the night and most of the next day to get back as it was a" but she knew that Calen was right. And so they waited until full dark, and then a few hours more for good measure. Jakl had let them off outside the castle grounds then headed back to the Hunterheart forest. Calen had set off for Mage Serek's chambers to alert his master about Sen Eva. Which left Meg to cross the shadowy courtyard alone, heading for the kitchen entrance and desperately hoping no one stopped her to ask where she was going or what errand she was returning from. In the darkness, she thought her soiled dress might pa.s.s for servant's clothing as long as no one examined her too closely. All she had to do was make it to her family's chambers without being challenged. And then she could tell her parents and sisters everything, and they would know what to do.

Despite the lateness of the hour, the kitchen was still warm and brightly lit. In her frequent excursions as Mellie, she had learned that there was some sort of cooking or washing or preparing or cleaning up going on at nearly all hours of the day and night. Tonight was no exception; the cook's a.s.sistant was supervising several scullions at their duties at the far end of the room, near the fire. Servants often stopped in to grab something to eat at odd hours, especially if their jobs kept them busy during the normal mealtimes, and no one usually batted an eye at one more serving girl pa.s.sing through the room.

She had planned to walk right through without stopping, but the smell of food when she entered the kitchen a.s.saulted her senses with an overpowering intensity. She could not clearly remember the last time she had eaten; all she knew was that the hunger pains that had faded to a dull constant ache inside her flared into full life again, and she couldn't see what harm it would do to take some bread and a bit of cheese and meat on her way through.

She had sliced off the end of a loaf of bread and was just cutting one more hunk of cheese from the table when she heard giggling. Looking up, she saw a kitchen maid and a well-dressed youth sitting in the corner, their heads bent close together. It could have been anyone a" there were bound to be dozens of young men that age in the castle this close to the wedding a" but she knew instantly, even before she heard his voice murmuring in the girl's ear, that it was Wilem. Fear and hatred rose up within her until she felt herself shaking with suppressed emotion. She looked at the knife in her hand. He was so close. She could walk over and plunge the knife into his back before anyone would realize what she was doing. Meg felt she had never wanted to do anything as much as she wanted to go over right now and kill him. It took her several seconds to coerce her clenched fingers to relinquish their hold on the knife. When she was finally able to let go, she clutched her bread and cheese and turned to leave, but not before her still-shaking hands knocked the cheese platter to the floor with a resounding crash.

Her heart stopped as everyone turned to look. Don't see me, she begged him silently as she bent to retrieve the fallen items. Don't see me a" it's not me a" you don't see me, please, please, please, you traitorous b.a.s.t.a.r.d, please. She tried to look sheepish and embarra.s.sed rather than terrified, but she had no idea how well she was succeeding. She heard someone mutter, "Clumsy oaf," and several other people laughed. As she rose back up to return the platter to the table, she kept her head bent forward, her hair covering most of her face. Then she ran, hoping they all saw the same mortified, clumsy serving girl and that no one recognized the tatters of her fancy dress or caught a close look at her frightened, furious face. More laughter followed her out into the hallway, and she kept running until she turned the corner. Then she froze, straining to hear. No footfalls sounded on the stone floor behind her. Finally, she swallowed and moved on.

The bread was soft and delicious. Meg ripped off a huge bite with her teeth and chewed angrily as she walked. There were so many painful emotions swirling around inside her that it took her a moment to realize one of them was jealousy. Stupid, she told herself contemptuously. All she should feel for him was hatred. Besides, he was probably only sweet-talking the maid for more information about the wedding night. She took a bite of the cheese next and was momentarily distracted by how good it tasted. She had never before truly appreciated the pure enjoyment of eating. If it weren't for all the other, far more pressing concerns, she would have gathered up a much larger collection of food items and found some quiet corner where she could sit and eat and properly focus her full attention on each tasty morsel.

Except for the kitchen, the castle seemed quiet; it was late enough that many people had retired to their chambers. On the few occasions that someone else appeared in the hallway, Meg hid her face in her hair and kept her eyes down until they had pa.s.sed. Finally she reached the narrow staircase of the southwest tower and began to climb. Almost there. At least she knew she would not run into Wilem in some dark stairwell corner, since he was probably still trading gentle whispers with the kitchen maid. And surely it was too late for a n.o.ble advisor like the distinguished Sen Eva Lichtendor to be skulking about the castle. Still, Meg would be glad when she reached the safety of the royal family suites at last.

Soft footfalls suddenly sounded on the steps above her a" someone headed down. Meg glanced around and then hid behind her hair again. She was too far from the next landing to get there without being seen. Better to pretend she had nothing to hide. She hugged the wall and waited respectfully for the other person to pa.s.s.

The footfalls stopped. Meg waited, trying not to fidget. The person was just standing there, looking at her. It couldn't be Sen Eva. It couldn't. She'd be able to feel the waves of evil coming off the woman if it were. Besides, Sen Eva would have killed her by now. And it couldn't be Wilem unless he had dashed out of the kitchen without her hearing, circled around to run up another staircase, and then run down to meet her here. Why didn't the person speak? Probably he or she was wondering the same thing about Meg, she supposed. b.l.o.o.d.y Hunter, she swore finally to herself, and looked up.

Maurel was staring at her, wide-eyed, her mouth open in a shocked little circle. "Meg? Oh, G.o.ds, it is you. At first I thought someone had stolen your dress and got it all dirty, and I didn't know what that meant they had done to you or whether I should say something or run and get Morgan. . . ." She trailed off, bewildered. "What happened? Where did you go? We were looking everywhere a" poor Maerlie even made them open up the secret pa.s.sage in the cellar so she could check the cell down there that they found Lysetta in that time. . . ."

Meg grabbed her sister in a rough, tight hug that made the younger girl squeak with surprise. Somehow it hadn't really seemed like she had made it home until this moment.

Maurel bore it gracefully for several seconds before she began to squirm. "Ugh, Meg, you don't really smell very good," she said, pulling away. "I think you need to take a bath."

"I'm sure you're right," Meg said, grinning like an idiot. Maurel probably thought she'd lost her mind. "But a" wait a minute. What are you doing up at this hour? Oh, never mind. I'm just so glad to see you. And I don't have time to scold you; there are some important things I need to tell Mother and Father." Her grin slipped. "And Maerlie."

"But they're not here," Maurel protested. "What things? What happened?"

Meg barely stopped herself from grabbing the girl again. "What do you mean they're not here?" That couldn't be. They had to be here.

Maurel took a cautious step backward. "Mother went with Maerlie and Queen Carlinda for the bridal retreat. The wedding is in two days, remember? And Prince Ryant asked Father to come for his last hunt, so Morgan is looking after us and . . ." She peered worriedly into Meg's face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Meg sat down heavily on the steps. They weren't here. The burden of everything she had learned fell back upon her with the weight of a thousand stones. What was she going to do? She hadn't thought any further than getting home and revealing Sen Eva's plot to her parents. She tried to force herself to be calm and think. If the wedding was in two days, that meant everyone would have to return tomorrow. There was still time. As long as Sen Eva and Wilem didn't discover that she and Calen had returned. He hadn't recognized her in the kitchen. She was sure of it. Almost sure.

She looked up at Maurel. "Where's Morgan?"

"In her rooms. Come on, I'll take you." She reached down and pulled on Meg's hand. Meg followed numbly, grateful that her sister had stopped her endless stream of questions. It would be all right. She would tell Morgan, and Morgan would help her figure out what to do. She thought Maurel could be trusted to keep her return quiet. Her parents would be home tomorrow, and there would still be plenty of time to warn them before the wedding. It would all be fine. Meg wished she knew why she still felt such a strong sense of foreboding. She wished she was certain that Wilem hadn't recognized her. She wished she could climb back onto her dragon and fly away, leaving these problems for someone else. She tried to wrap her sense of him around her, warm and safe, like a blanket.

Maurel knocked on the door to Morgan's rooms and then pushed inside without waiting for a response. Morgan glanced up from her desk, where she sat busily writing. "Maurel, I hope you have a very good reason for being out of your bed at this a"" She broke off, eyes going wide as she saw Meg. She was out of her chair and across the room in a blink, grabbing Meg's arms and staring into her face. Meg flinched; her sister looked more angry than relieved, her eyes practically throwing off sparks. A stern lecture would be forthcoming if Meg didn't start talking first, and there wasn't time for a lecture right now.

"Maurel, please close the door," Meg said. Maurel did as she asked, then sat down on the floor with her back against the heavy wood. Morgan looked at the door, then back at Meg. She backed off and sat on the edge of a chair. "Tell me," she said.

Meg told her. She realized almost immediately that she would have to tell about Jakl after all in order for the story to make any sense, so she did, ignoring Maurel's shocked gasps from behind her and trying not to notice the way Morgan's neat eyebrows kept climbing higher and higher on her forehead. Maybe she could still manage not to tell her parents that part of it right away. Maybe. She told about her time spent with Calen and how he was helping her with Jakl and finally how they had met in the east wing and gone together into the empty guest suite to watch the tourney workers from their secret window. Most of that was surprisingly easy to tell; the words seemed to flow from her almost of their own accord, casually spilling what had seemed untellable secrets such a short time before. The next part would be much harder.

Morgan went very still when Meg repeated what she and Calen had heard from behind the curtains. Stupid tears of anger and pain flooded Meg's eyes as she recounted Wilem's betrayal and Sen Eva's blunt discussion of her plans to have Maerlie killed on the night of the wedding. Maurel had gone completely silent behind her, and Morgan seemed frozen behind a wall of denial and disbelief. Meg rushed on, eager to get past this part. She gave her confused retelling of how Sen Eva and Calen had each begun something she couldn't understand and of then awakening in the forest, Calen unconscious beside her, with no idea of what had happened or how they had arrived there.

She skimmed over much of what had pa.s.sed between her and Jakl a" they didn't need to know about that, and she doubted she could explain it in any case a" and only said that Calen had worked out a way to summon the dragon to take them back home. Maurel whimpered softly when Meg told about the army of monsters they'd seen and the flying one that attacked them. Meg cursed inwardly; she hadn't meant to tell that part to Maurel, but it was too late now.

"We thought it might be best not to let Sen Eva know we'd returned," she went on quickly. "Calen went to speak with Serek, and I came straight here. Well," she amended, "straight here by way of the kitchen. I was starving." Meg left it at that. She couldn't bring herself to mention seeing Wilem. She rubbed wearily at her finally cried-out eyes and wished she still had some of the cheese and bread left.

Her tale told at last, Meg collapsed into her sister's comfortable reading chair, feeling heavy with exhaustion but lighter for the sharing of her burden. "So," she said, "what do you think we should do? How should we handle it? I wish Mother and Father were here to decide, but they're not, so it must be up to us." She leaned forward. "Oh, and Calen wanted me to stress that Sen Eva is likely very dangerous. Sending the guards won't be enough. Perhaps we should consult with Serek before doing anything; with luck he will know some way to prevent her from casting any spells to attack us or escape."

Morgan was silent. She shook her head, not meeting Meg's eyes. When she finally spoke, her words were hesitant. And unexpected. "Meg, I think you're getting ahead of yourself. I want to believe what you've told me, but frankly, all together it's a bit hard to swallow."

Meg felt she must have misheard. Morgan wanted to believe? She opened her mouth but couldn't think of what to say. Morgan looked at her with sympathy and concern. Somehow that only made it worse.

"I'm not accusing you of lying, Meg. Truly, I'm not. But your behavior has been so odd of late, and this story . . . well, isn't it possible you misunderstood what Sen Eva and Wilem were arguing about? It doesn't make a lot of sense if you think about it, does it? Why would they want to kill Maerlie?"

Hadn't she even been listening? "I told you, to get revenge for the death of Wilem's father and brother. I mean, I know the part about our father and King Ryllin has to be a lie, but . . ."

"Meg, listen to yourself. You're saying Sen Eva and Wilem made up a lie to give them a reason to kill your sister. Does that really seem logical to you?"

"No, you're twisting it around. That's not how it was." She was getting fl.u.s.tered. That wouldn't help anything. But she knew what she'd heard. "Calen heard it, too! And then she tried to kill us! Did I misunderstand that as well?"

"You don't really know that's what she was doing. Calen told you that, but you said yourself that there was nothing you could actually see."

"Morgan!" She was shouting now, but she couldn't help it. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I have to!" her sister shouted back. She struggled visibly to get her voice back under control. "Meg, please try to understand. Even if you are right, if everything you said is true, what would you have me do? We can't just accuse Sen Eva of murder and treason without a shred of proof. At best, we'd offend King Ryllin and Queen Carlinda. At worst, they would see this as a ploy to call off the wedding and an end to the peace negotiations. They would certainly never believe this story without substantial evidence to support it. Sen Eva has been their trusted advisor for twenty years!"

Meg stared numbly at her sister. She wanted to shake her. She wanted to scream. Instead, she took a deep breath and tried to think. Throwing a tantrum was not going to help. "Morgan, please listen," she said at last. "I know this is hard to believe. I didn't want to believe it either. But I swear it is true. Maerlie's life is in danger. I fear that if we wait, you'll have the proof you seek when Maerlie is found dead the morning after the wedding."

Maurel suddenly ran to Morgan's arms. She was crying. The older girl stroked her hair gently and glared at Meg. "I don't want to hear any more about this tonight," she said quietly. "Mother and Father will be home tomorrow. We can discuss it then. For now, I want you to go to your room and get some sleep."

"I'm sorry to have upset Maurel, but that's not a""

"Meg, I mean it. Go now." She made her voice kinder. "You've obviously been through a terrible ordeal. And I'm not discounting your story. But I have to do what I think is best, and for now, that means waiting. If you're right about Sen Eva and Wilem, then we still have time. The wedding is still two days away. There's nothing to be gained by rushing to act now. Please. I'll send for a bath to be brought up to your room, so you can wash and then rest."

Meg swallowed the rest of her objections. Morgan was not going to budge. "Fine," she said, defeated. She started toward the door. "Please send for some food as well."

"Of course," Morgan said. "And Meg . . ."

Meg paused, her hand resting on the door.

"I'm glad you're safe. We were all so worried about you. I'm sorry we argued; you know I love you, and I'm so relieved that you're all right. I just have to do what I think is best. I think if you were in my position you'd do the same."

Meg nodded. She spoke without turning around. "I know. I'm sure you're right. We'll talk more in the morning, after I've had some sleep." She opened the door and stepped into the hallway. She closed the door behind her, shutting out the sounds of Maurel's soft crying and Morgan's gentle, rea.s.suring whispers.

When she reached her rooms, Meg opened the door and dragged herself inside. She was so tired. But there was no time to rest. The serving maid would soon arrive with her bath. Just for a moment, she closed her eyes and slipped deeper into the link, letting Jakl's comforting presence surround her. He felt tired too, and no wonder. She'd have to ask Calen if he'd figured out exactly how far Jakl had flown. Usually the dragon's energy buoyed her up without her even having to think about it, but he was clearly at the end of his reserves. Well, she'd just have to rely on her own strength for a while.

Meg sat at her desk and began to write. Once the note was ready, she folded it carefully and marked it with her seal. Then she walked over to her bed and slid the paper beneath her pillow.

She would take her bath, and she would eat whatever they brought her a" it would be foolish not to eat some more now while she had the chance. After that, though, she would tell the maids she was tired and ask them to leave. And then she would go find Calen.

If something a" happened, if she did not return, someone would find the note eventually. She hoped her parents and her sisters would understand her reasons for doing what she was about to do.

"I'M NOT SURE YOU REALIZE THE seriousness of this accusation."

Serek spoke calmly, as if they were discussing a lesson or an approaching bit of bad weather. But then, Calen reflected, Serek was always calm. Often it was infuriating, but at the moment Calen was glad of his master's lack of emotion. It made the situation seem slightly less awful, as if it were only a challenging mathematics problem instead of a sickening snarl of treason and murder and giant flying monstrosities gathering in the wilderness.

"An unmarked mage is an aberration," he went on. "If informed, the Magistratum would strip her of her abilities, if they did not simply destroy her."

"They can do that? Take away her abilities?"

Serek arched an eyebrow. "The Magistratum can do a lot of things. And yes, that is one of them. The method varies, of course. A lesser criminal might only have a ward placed on him, which would alert the council if he attempted to so much as light a candle. A mage who not only hid her power but also used her magic to deceive her patron, not to mention to kill an apprentice . . ." Serek shrugged. "If she didn't die resisting judgment, she might have her ability seared out of her by a circle of more powerful mages, or maybe her mind altered, rendering her too simple to cast a spell. There are several possibilities."

Calen swallowed. He had never heard any of this before. "Of course, she didn't actually kill me."

"No," Serek agreed. "Not yet, anyway."

They were seated in Serek's dim study. Serek was at his desk, where he had been when Calen returned earlier that night. Calen was perched on the edge of a table. The chair across from the mage was occupied by Lyrimon, and Calen was too tired to fight him for it. As they talked, Calen fished black olives out of a jar and ate them. He had never cared much for olives, but he was so famished that he would have eaten almost anything at this point, and all Serek seemed to have on hand was jar after jar of olives. Perhaps, once he'd finished the current jar, he'd try some of the green ones.

He hadn't known what sort of welcome to expect when he'd first slipped through the study door. Would Serek be angry? Worried? Indifferent? Undoubtedly he'd want a full explanation of where his apprentice had been. Calen had stalled in the hallway, staring at the tapestries and trying to think of how to explain what had happened. Meg and Calen had agreed that he should tell Serek everything; it was just a question of figuring out how to begin. Finally he'd given up trying to plan it out. He was too hungry to think, anyway. He'd opened the door and walked inside.

"Ah," Serek had said, looking up from his notes. "You live, I see."

Same old Serek. Calen half expected the mage to go right back to whatever he'd been working on, dismissing him, or perhaps to direct his attention to some ch.o.r.es he'd missed while he was away. But Serek had placed his papers carefully to one side of the desk and sat back in his chair, looking at him expectantly. Calen had walked toward the other chair, saw that it was occupied, then made for the table instead, grabbing the olive jar on the way. And then he'd said, "Sen Eva Lichtendor is an unmarked mage and a traitor, and she and her son are planning to kill Princess Maerlie on her wedding night."

After that it had been easy to tell the rest. Serek had listened silently, only asking questions here and there for clarification. His mouth had twitched slightly when Calen confessed to sneaking into the library to read about dragons, but that was all. And now he was calmly discussing Calen's possible death at Sen Eva's hands and the possible awful things the Magistratum would do to her if and when she were caught.

"Well," Serek said finally, pushing his chair back from the desk. "First things first. How certain are you that the woman is a mage? Is there any chance you could have been mistaken?"

"I'm absolutely certain," Calen said.

"And you're sure she was trying to kill you? You did only end up transported, after all. How do you know that wasn't her intention all along a" to simply send you away?"

"Well for one thing, she had just been discussing killing us. Or me, at least, although I suspect she had already decided to kill Meg also. But beyond that, I saw the spell as she was casting a" it was deep red, like the spell for killing weeds, only much stronger. Or the spell you used on that soldier, that first one who was attacked, when you were trying to burn out the poison. Only this was darker, and . . . worse, somehow." Calen shuddered, remembering.

Serek had stopped and was looking at him intently. "You saw the spell?"

"Yes," Calen said, confused. Hadn't he just said that? "I didn't immediately recognize it, of course, since it never occurred to me that she could cast. But once I realized what was happening, it was unmistakable."

Serek was still staring at him. It was unnerving. Had he said something wrong? "Why?" he asked. "Isn't that what red energy does? I could have sworn a""

"And then you crafted a spell in return?"

"Yes." This was so odd. He'd never had to repeat anything for Serek before. The man remembered everything. In precise detail. "I know I'm not supposed to experiment, but under the circ.u.mstances . . ."

Serek waved that away. "How did you decide what spell to cast?"

Calen shrugged. "Well, like I said, I didn't know what I was doing. I saw that red energy coming at us, and there was no time, and I was desperate to stop it from reaching us. I didn't think; I just reacted. Blue energy just seemed right, somehow, as if it could help to block what she was casting, quench the fire a" I don't know." He fell silent. Serek was frowning. Calen waited, knowing better than to interrupt his master when he was thinking. He couldn't be angry, not when Calen had just been trying to defend himself, not to mention Meg. What else could he have done?

Serek seemed to have come to some decision. He stood up. "All right. Let's try something. Watch and tell me what you see." He pointed at an unlit candle and sent a small pulse of yellow energy to the wick. It blossomed in flame.

"You lit the candle," said Calen.

"Brilliant," Serek said. "What did you see?"

Oh. "Yellow energy, just a tiny blob of it. You sent it to the wick, and the wick ignited."