"You like?" a tribesman said, leaning toward Merria and smiling broadly.

She nodded. "They're pretty. How much are?"

"Do you have any finer gems?" Dannyl interrupted. "Or ones set into jewellery, or other objects?"

The man gave Dannyl a piercingly direct look, then shook his head. "People here not like our way of setting."

Dannyl smiled. "We are not from here."

The man grinned. "No, you are not." He looked from Merria to Dannyl, then beckoned. "Come inside."

They moved around the table and entered the shade under the roof covering. Watched by his frowning companion, the tribesman opened a dusty old bag and drew out two large bands. He lifted them up so Dannyl and Merria could see. They were made of some sort of unpolished, darkened metal, lined with leather. Gemstones glittered within crude settings. Small metal tags hung from holes around one edge of each band.

"They go here." The man pointed to a place just above the knee. "And more here and one here." He touched his skin above the elbow and then the cloth wrapped about his hips. "For ceremony we rub," he mimicked a circular motion, "so they shine. But let go dark other times so not so ..." He waved at his face, widening his eyes. Dazzling Dazzling, Dannyl translated.

"That must look wonderful," Merria said.

The man grinned and nodded at her. "We dance. If we dance well women choose us."

"Wouldn't be the first time a woman married a man for jewellery," Merria remarked, glancing at Dannyl. "What do women wear?" she asked the man.

The tribesman shook his head. "Just belt. Very plain. Over cloth ..." He gestured in a sweeping motion from neck to knee.

Merria looked disappointed. "No jewellery? No gems?"

"Gems on belt."

"I'd love to see one of these ceremonies." Merria sighed wistfully. "Is this expensive?" She nodded to the leg bands.

"This one not for sale. But we bring one that is next time? Maybe belt, too."

"I'd like that." She glanced back at the table of gems. "So ... how much are they?"

They returned to the table and a bit of haggling followed. Dannyl suspected that the tribesman let her beat him down to a lower price than he would usually accept. As the transaction finished, Dannyl decided that he could not leave without asking after the tracker.

"Do you know Unh?" he asked. "He works as a tracker."

The man's grin vanished, then returned looking unconvincing and forced.

"No." He glanced back at the other tribesman, who was now scowling. The man shook his head. "No."

Dannyl nodded and shrugged, then thanked them for showing Merria the bands. The pair replied with fixed smiles. Dannyl led Merria away.

"Who is Unh?" she asked, when they were out of earshot.

"The tracker who helped us search for Lorkin."

"Ah." She glanced back. "Is it only me that got the impression they do know him, but don't like him very much."

"Not just you."

"How interesting," she murmured. "I hope this doesn't mean they won't bring some of those bands for me."

They turned a corner and started down the next row. Dannyl looked up and came to a halt as he saw what lay before them.

Stalls filled with books, scrolls and writing implements lined each side of the aisle. He looked from side to side, his eyes drawn to piles of promising old tomes. Suddenly he knew why there had been a slight hint of smugness in Tayend's tone when suggesting a market visit.

It wasn't just that he'd suggested something I hadn't thought of. He knew I'd find this. He's probably been here already, what with his fondness for silly or exotic trinkets, and he probably guessed that I hadn't. He felt a pang of fondness for his former lover, but it was followed by a mix of guilt and annoyance that was growing familiar since Tayend had arrived in Arvice. He felt a pang of fondness for his former lover, but it was followed by a mix of guilt and annoyance that was growing familiar since Tayend had arrived in Arvice. I'm going to have to thank him for this. I wish the prospect didn't fill me with doubt and dread. I'm going to have to thank him for this. I wish the prospect didn't fill me with doubt and dread.

"I may take some time here," he told Merria apologetically.

She smiled. "I thought you might. It's fine. Anything you want me to look for?"

CHAPTER 6.

A WARNING.

As Lorkin paused in his work, he noted that more than half of the beds in the Care Room were occupied, though most of the patients would probably leave once they'd seen Kalia. Nearly every person had the same or similar illness. Even in isolated, remote Sanctuary, people came down with sniffles and coughs each winter. They called it "chill fever".

The treatment was so trusted and familiar that few questions were asked. Kalia's examination of those claiming to have the illness was perfunctory, and she rarely needed to explain the cures she handed out.

This was Kalia's area of expertise. Lorkin was given the task of looking after anyone who came in with other injuries or illness. No sufferer of chill fever ever approached him. If Kalia was occupied, they settled onto a bed and watched her patiently, only occasionally glancing at him in curiosity.

The main cures were a chest rub and a bitter-tasting tea. Children were given sweets to suck if they wouldn't drink the tea. The sweets were still quite strong and unpleasant, so that only those who truly had the sickness and whose sense of taste was dulled could tolerate them. Enough tea and sweets were handed out to last patients a few days. They had to return to be examined again, if they needed more.

It was the first time he'd seen the Traitors so strictly rationing their supplies. He knew that food stores would have to be monitored and controlled in order for the valley's produce to sustain the people through the winter, but so far he hadn't seen any tough restrictions coming into effect. They were talked about, however, and anyone seen to be eating more than was considered reasonable was treated with a teasing disapproval, but also an underlying tone of warning.

No magicians had come to the Care Room with chill fever, since they were naturally resistant to illnesses, so Lorkin was surprised to see one of them entering the room, her nose and eyelids a tell-tale shade of red. He turned back to the task of re-bandaging the ulcerated leg of an old man. The man chuckled.

"Thought she was a magician, didn't you?" he croaked.

Lorkin smiled. "Yes," he admitted.

"No. Her mother is. Sister is. Grandmother was. She isn't, but she likes to pretend she is."

"In the Allied Lands, all magicians have to wear a uniform so everyone knows what they are. It's illegal to dress as a magician if you are not one."

The old man smiled thinly. "Oh, they wouldn't like that here."

"Because it would make it obvious that not everyone is equal?"

The man snorted. "No, because they don't like being told what to do."

Lorkin laughed quietly. He secured the bandage and slipped the old man an extra dose of pain cure. What will I do if we run out of it, and other cures? What will I do if we run out of it, and other cures?

He could start to Heal patients, but the timing would not be good. If I'm forced to use my Healing powers it should be for a better reason than because I let us run out of cures. If I'm forced to use my Healing powers it should be for a better reason than because I let us run out of cures.

"Have you ever been to the old viewing rooms high above the city?" the old man asked.

"The ones that were made long before the Traitors discovered the valley?"

"Yes. A friend of yours told me she was going there. Said to tell you."

Lorkin stared at the old man, then smiled and looked away.

"She did, did she?"

"And I need help getting back to my room."

Kalia didn't look suspicious when Lorkin told her the man wanted his help, but she did tell him to return as quickly as possible. Once they had walked a few hundred paces, the old man told Lorkin he was fine to continue on his own, but Lorkin insisted on accompanying him all the way to his room. Only then did Lorkin hurry away to the viewing rooms. He had to climb several stairs to get there, and by the time he arrived at the door to the first room he was breathing heavily.

Once he had passed through the heavy door his exhal ations became billowing clouds of mist. The air was very cold, and he quickly created a magical barrier around himself and warmed the air within it. The room was long and narrow, the only furniture some rough wooden benches stacked up against the back wall. Glassless windows were spaced along the length.

A woman leaned against the window edge, and this time his heart flipped over at the sight of her. Tyvara smiled faintly. He managed to restrain the urge to grin in return.

"Why don't they fill them in with glass?" Lorkin asked, waving to the openings. "It would be a lot easier to heat the space."

"We don't have the materials to make that much glass," she told him, walking forward to meet him.

"You could bring some up here from the lowlands."

She shook her head. "It's not important enough to risk discovery over."

"Surely you've brought materials up here before?"

"A few times. We prefer to find out how to make things ourselves, or do without. We don't do without much, really." She beckoned him over to a window. The valley below was now covered in snow, the cliff walls rising stark and grey above the spread of white. "Did Evar tell you that we grow plants in caves lit and heated by stones?"

"No." He felt his curiosity spark. "Is that also how you protect the animals during winter keeping them in caves?"

"Yes, though they are mostly fed grain and we will cull some and freeze the meat once it's cold enough to make ice caves."

"Ice caves. I would like to see them," he said wistfully. "But I don't expect anybody is going to take me on any tours of the caves of Sanctuary for a while."

She shook her head. "No." A frown creased her forehead and she looked away. "I'm not supposed to be talking to you."

"I know. Yet here we are."

She smiled faintly, then grew serious again.

"Have you seen Evar recently?"

He shook his head. "Have you?"

"Yes. But I am worried about him."

Lorkin felt a stab of concern. "Why?"

She looked at him, her expression doubtful. But it wasn't self-doubt, or indecision. She seemed to be weighing up whether to tell him something.

"I have a warning to give you, but I have to be indirect, and I don't want you interpreting it in other ways." She glanced around the room, then leaned toward him and lowered her voice despite there being nobody else in the room. "Women may try to lure you into their bed in the next few weeks. Don't accept any invites unless you're absolutely sure they're not magicians."

He stared back at her, fighting the urge to grin.

"Some already have. I didn't-"

"That's different," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "This is ... they won't be doing it because they like you. More the opposite." She looked at him closely, her expression serious. "Will you heed my warning?"

"Of course," he said, smiling and hoping it looked like one of gratitude rather than glee. She's jealous. She wants me all for herself. She's jealous. She wants me all for herself.

"You're taking it the wrong way," she told him, her eyes narrowing. "There truly is a risk. What they could be planning can be dangerous. It can kill."

At that he felt his smug jubilation melt away and his stomach plummeted as he suddenly understood what she was alluding to: Lover's Death.

"They're planning to assassinate me?"

She shook her head. "No. That is against the law. But if you accidentally died, particularly in that way ..." She let the sentence hang, merely spreading her hands in a helpless gesture. "The punishment is a lot milder."

He nodded and met her gaze, now able to keep his face straight with no effort. "I will not bed any Traitors until you say I can."

She rolled her eyes and stepped away toward the door. "It's only the magicians you have to be wary of, Lorkin. What you do with the rest is not my business. Though it would be appreciated if you did what's necessary to prevent siring a whole lot of children, because we already have a lot of mouths to feed." She looked back at him. "I have to go now."

"And I must get back to the Care Room, too." He sighed. "Not for love of Kalia's company, but I suspect this chill fever is going to get much worse."

She nodded, her eyes warm with approval, but then her expression became sad. "It happens every year. Always kills a few. Usually the old, young, or those who are already weakened by sickness. You had better be ready for that."

He nodded to show he understood. "Thanks for the warning." He smiled. "Both of them."

She smiled in return. Together they headed for the door and the warmth of the stairs beyond. She told him to go first, so that they wouldn't be seen re-entering the city together. He glanced back once to see her staring far beyond the walls surrounding her, looking both worried and determined. He felt his heart lift again. She had come to see him, defying orders to avoid him. He hoped her defiance wouldn't be noticed, and that she would search him out again.

"So when is Lord Dorrien setting out for home?" Jonna asked as she gave the wine glasses a last rub with her polishing cloth.

"Tomorrow morning," Sonea replied. She looked up at her aunt and servant, and caught a strange look on the older woman's face. "What?"

Jonna shook her head, set the wineglass down and scanned Sonea's guest room. She moved to the low table where the evening's meal would be served and began polishing the cutlery. Again. "Nothing important. Just thinking about ways things could have been."

Sonea sighed and crossed her arms. "Are you still lamenting that I didn't marry Dorrien?"

Jonna spread her hands in protest. "He is a very nice man."

Oh, no. Not this again. "He is," Sonea agreed. "But if I had married him I'd have moved to the country and you'd have never seen me." "He is," Sonea agreed. "But if I had married him I'd have moved to the country and you'd have never seen me."