"Gun," she said finally, handing him the cup. "Maybe we should try to get out of the city."

He looked at her, their fingers touching on the cold metal of the cup. "But you wanted to tell them, the Wolfshead, I mean, and Lionsmane."

She nodded, lower lip caught between her teeth. "We've been sent away from Mercenary House twice now," she said. "What if we don't get a chance to tell them?"

"Tell them what, Lady Mar?"

Like anyone who'd commanded troops, he was a good judge of character. The girl looked nervous, he thought, and a little too pale. But her jaw was firm, and her mouth a resolute line. She was tougher than her n.o.ble birth and her town fostering might lead some to believe. After all, she'd come over the Antedichas Mountains with two Mercenaries, met the Cloud People, and lived to tell of it-not to mention surviving those particular four days in Tenebro House. Karlyn looked to the Scholar.

Though he was a few years older than Mar-eMar, Gundaron was likely the younger in experience-that being the trouble with book learning. The boy was frankly terrified, in Karlyn's opinion. Where the girl was pale, the boy was white-faced; where she was firm and resolute, he held himself so stiffly he had a slight tremor in his hands. And he blinked too much. But for all that, Karlyn thought, impressed almost against his will, Gundaron was keeping his fear firmly in check. What could have frightened him so badly? This was the first real emotion Karlyn had ever seen in the boy. What had woken him from his Scholar's daydream? Was it the girl? Or something more sinister?

"We didn't harm the House," Lady Mar said, breaking into his thoughts. "I know you have no reason to believe us, but we didn't."

"Perhaps I have no reason," Karlyn said, "but I believe you. What decided you to leave when you did?"

Lady Mar took a deep breath. She was wearing the same clothes she'd had on when she'd arrived with the Mercenary brothers, now much creased and dirty. But she seemed not to notice any discomfort. "I'd been used," she said, a bitter twist to her mouth. "I didn't know how badly just at first. I knew I'd been lied to, though, and I couldn't stay where there was no one I could trust."

Tough, all right. Tougher than some other cousins of the House he could name. Karlyn turned to Gundaron. The Scholar clamped his jaw, not like someone determined not to speak, Karlyn thought, but like someone who expected the words to burn on their way out. The Lady Mar put her dust-grimed hand on the Scholar's arm. Tougher than some other cousins of the House he could name. Karlyn turned to Gundaron. The Scholar clamped his jaw, not like someone determined not to speak, Karlyn thought, but like someone who expected the words to burn on their way out. The Lady Mar put her dust-grimed hand on the Scholar's arm.

"I know you have no reason to believe me," Karlyn said, deliberately echoing Mar-eMar's words. "But you can can trust me. I did not choose to leave Tenebro House, I have been Cast Out for refusing to hunt for Dhulyn Wolfshead and Parno Lionsmane. I believe we are allies." The two youngsters glanced at each other before looking back at him. Was there hope in their eyes? "What is this you were saying about Mercenary House," he asked them. trust me. I did not choose to leave Tenebro House, I have been Cast Out for refusing to hunt for Dhulyn Wolfshead and Parno Lionsmane. I believe we are allies." The two youngsters glanced at each other before looking back at him. Was there hope in their eyes? "What is this you were saying about Mercenary House," he asked them.

"We've amends to make," Lady Mar said, her eyes flicking toward the Scholar. "And information to give. But we can't get anyone to listen to us."

Karlyn nodded. "I believe I I can," he said. "Let's get you cleaned up. I believe they might listen to me." can," he said. "Let's get you cleaned up. I believe they might listen to me."

"You're not afraid of the blade, which is good," Dhulyn said, stepping forward as Parno retrieved his sword. "But you kept your own too low, and too far off the central line. Watch." She took the Tarkin's place and came at Parno slowly, her movements exaggerated in such a way that Tek-aKet Tarkin would have no trouble following. She held her sword so that the sharpened tip sagged below her waist. As she advanced on Parno, he once again turned the blade aside with the palm of his hand.

"Do you see?" Dhulyn said. "Your blade was off-center, and at an angle that made it easy for him to turn it aside, even without another weapon of his own. Now watch where I have mine." Dhulyn executed almost the identical move, except this time Parno was able to turn her blade aside only by sacrificing his own forward momentum, and losing any chance to turn the move to his advantage. She and Parno lifted their points and stepped back.

"Did you see, Lord Tarkin?"

Tek-aKet nodded, brow furrowed. "I thought I'd had good teachers, but you've shown me things-" He lifted his shoulders and let them drop. "I didn't think to watch his bare hand."

Dhulyn sheathed her sword and extended both her hands to show the fine scars on the palms. "When it's life and death, and not for show, everything everything is a weapon. Kill or be killed, all battles come down to this." is a weapon. Kill or be killed, all battles come down to this."

"Kill or be killed," Tek-aKet repeated, his dark brows drawn down into a vee over his clear blue eyes. "I think you have shown me more than a Shora Shora of offense and defense, Dhulyn Wolfshead, I think you have answered a question for me." He looked up at them, the sheen of sweat drying on his upper lip. "I think I must take back the Carnelian Throne." of offense and defense, Dhulyn Wolfshead, I think you have answered a question for me." He looked up at them, the sheen of sweat drying on his upper lip. "I think I must take back the Carnelian Throne."

"There was some doubt of this?" Parno's eyebrows could not raise any higher.

Tek-aKet nodded, his eyes hooded. "I never wanted to be Tarkin," he said, a half smile playing about his lips. "My brother died of a fever, and I had to take his place. It did actually occur to me that this was my chance to take Zella and the children and go to her sister in Berdana."

"And what decides you against that?" Dhulyn said.

"Zella and the children," he said. "My family will never be safe with Lok-iKol Tenebroso on the throne. No matter where we go, what we do, he will see us as a threat until he hunts us down and kills us all. He's been doing exactly that to his own House for years." He lowered his eyes again, and his face turned to stone. "But there is also this. Lok-iKol is not Tarkin of Imrion. Neither by inheritance nor by Ballot. I find it is, after all, that simple. I will not walk away from my throne, my people, my responsibilities, and leave them to that jackal. I must find some place, some fortress or other, that I can use to rally my army. If I move quickly, then many who are now confused will come to us."

"Well," Parno said lightly. "We're looking for work, Lord Tarkin. We'd give you a good rate."

Dal-eDal entered and stepped immediately to one side so as not to present a silhouette in the entrance-and also to let his two guards enter with him. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the relative dimness of the taproom, his chin lifted as he caught sight of Karlyn-Tan. He crossed the half-empty room with a nod at the innkeeper behind the bar and joined Karlyn at his corner table. Karlyn smiled when the n.o.bleman sat down with his back to rest of room-evidently Dal was sure that Karlyn would warn him if there should be any trouble. Or perhaps he was counting on the loyalty of the two guards, now being served at the bar? The young n.o.bleman looked paler than usual, with lines around his eyes Karlyn had not seen before. When his cup of wine arrived, the fingers that turned it around on the tabletop without lifting it to his lips trembled slightly.

"You might have been better to come afoot," Karlyn-Tan said. "You'd attract less attention." He threw a pointed glance around at the patrons of the barroom, only some of whom were minding their own business. Others seemed to think that a well-dressed and mounted n.o.bleman, even with two guards, was was their business. their business.

"I will not be in Gotterang long enough for attention to harm me," Dal-eDal said, turning to sit sideways in his seat.

That was enough to make Karlyn look up once more from his polishing, as Dal-eDal must have known it would.

"My House and lord, Lok-iKol," Dal said quietly, his eyes now idly drifting over the room, "has an errand for me outside the city."

"Lok-iKol wishes you to leave Gotterang leave Gotterang?"

Dal-eDal inclined his head once.

Karlyn-Tan relaxed, allowing his shoulders to rest against the wall behind his bench. No one in the House had thought it strange that this younger cousin had been kept on a short leash. Younger cousins who were part of the succession, even if they had no apparent ambition, were always a danger to heirs, and best kept where they could be carefully watched. This was no less true now that Lok-iKol was calling himself Tarkin. And yet Lok-iKol was now sending Dal away?

Karlyn let his eyes drift over to the two men watching from the bar. "Is he so sure of himself, now that he is Tarkin?"

Dal shook his head impatiently. "It's more than that. He . . ." Dal looked across the table from under his brows. "I've been long a coward, Karlyn-Tan, or so I thought. But yesterday I saw something that makes me understand what fear is. I need help."

Karlyn raised his eyebrows, his lips parting of their own accord. He quickly lowered his own eyes back to the bits of buckle, the polishing paste and rags on the tabletop. Dal had had to be afraid, to say such a thing aloud. to be afraid, to say such a thing aloud.

"I appreciate the help you have given me," he said slowly. "But I remind you that I am no longer a Steward of Tenebro."

Dal stopped turning his wine cup on the table and took a long draw from it, setting it back on the table with a sour twist to his mouth. Serves him right, Serves him right, Karlyn thought. Karlyn thought. This isn't the kind of place you should order wine. This isn't the kind of place you should order wine.

"This is a greater concern than who is Tenebro and who is not. We speak now of the fate of Imrion." Dal wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "You haven't asked about my errand."

Karlyn-Tan waited.

"He sends me to find the Mercenary Brother, Dhulyn Wolfshead. I feel it is imperative that we find her, if only to learn why Lok-iKol wants her. If only to use her ourselves."

Karlyn-Tan felt himself go perfectly still. And kept perfectly silent.

"How?"

"How else? Against Lok-iKol."

Ah. Karlyn drummed the tabletop with his fingers. The fate of Imrion, indeed.

"Can we rid ourselves of the two men with you? I have someone I think you should meet."

"He does not lie," she said to Tyler Nightsky, the Brother who had called her to the gate. "That is Karlyn-Tan, last seen as Steward of Walls at Tenebro House." She turned to Tyler. "I will speak with Alkoryn. In the meantime, allow him to enter the outer courtyard."

"Dhulyn Wolfshead," he said, taking half a step toward her before remembering his instructions and standing still.

"I did not think it possible that my ears and eyes both should deceive me," she said. "And yet here you are."

"You are not deceived, Wolfshead," he said. "I am here."

"And your Walls?"

"Are mine no longer. I am Cast Out."

For a moment Dhulyn could think of nothing to say that was adequate to what he'd told her. Finally, she nodded. "For whom do you speak?"

"To you, I speak for myself," Karlyn glanced away before returning his eyes to hers. "I rejoice to see you well, and alive. And I bring you warning that Lok-iKol Tenebroso seeks everywhere for you." She bowed toward him. That was certainly no news to her, whatever he thought, but his goodwill in warning her had to be acknowledged.

Karlyn took a deeper breath. "To Tek-aKet, Tarkin of Imrion, I speak for Dal-eDal Tenebro, who comes with news, and brings himself and eight others as a token of the force of allies he can add to the Tarkin's strength."

"You bring messages here here for Tek-aKet Tarkin?" for Tek-aKet Tarkin?"

"I do. Mercenary Brothers helped him escape, and he is either with you, or his whereabouts are known to you."

Dhulyn kept her face still as stone, giving nothing away. Of course Dal-eDal knew they had been in the Carnelian Dome, helping the Tarkin. Did anyone else know? Were the tunnels secure enough for the Tarkin and his family? Alkoryn certainly believed so, but better careful than cursing, Dhulyn thought.

"Does Dal-eDal hope to become Tenebroso? And will you then be restored to your Walls?"

"We have no such hope or expectation," Karlyn-Tan said. "There is too much future for us to see what will come."

Dhulyn narrowed her eyes, but it was clear his words were innocent of any hidden meanings as he continued with his message.

"Our purpose is to remove the usurper Lok-iKol Tenebro from the Carnelian Throne, and restore the Culebro Tarkin, Tek-aKet." He cleared his throat, giving her a chance to respond, but she only smiled her wolf's smile. "If we live, there will be time to see what will follow."

Dhulyn crossed her arms and, with her head to one side, studied the former Steward of Walls. If their House was being watched, no one, not even Karlyn-Tan, could simply enter and not be seen to come out again. Fortunately, Alkoryn had thought of even this contingency when she'd gone to consult with him.

"When the moon has set, bring Dal-eDal to the Fountain of the Rivers. You will be met and taken to the Tarkin."

"There are two others I believe you will want as well, for the information they may have, Mar-eMar Tenebro, and the Scholar of Valdomar, Gundaron."

She raised her eyebrows. They were alive, then, and likely to stay that way if Karlyn-Tan had taken them under his wing. Still, she told herself, she had no wish to see either the Scholar or Mar-eMar Tenebro again.

"The Scholar, at least, was intimate with Lok-iKol, and has information that may be of use."

Dhulyn sighed. Of course he did. And she was a blooded fool not to think of that herself. "Very well, you may bring them."

Instead of a large council table, such as could be found in the public meeting room in the House above them, here were half a score of small round tables, scattered over a floor leveled with sand and inlaid cobbles, each with chairs or stools to allow three or four to sit, making the place resemble nothing more than the taproom of a small tavern. All it lacked were windows and a serving bar. Ganje, water, bread, and dried fruit had already been laid out on the tables.

Dhulyn was alerted by noises in the pa.s.sages behind her to the arrival of Cullen of Langeron, a lean, wiry man with steel-gray hair and the feather tattoo covering the left side of his face. The ceilings did not allow for Cullen's Racha bird, Disha, to ride in her accustomed place on his shoulder, and Dhulyn was intrigued to see that the bird nevertheless accompanied her Partner, walking on the ground almost under his feet in the manner of a playful cat. The Cloud went immediately to Tek-aKet and saluted him with the formal bow of an amba.s.sador.

"Don't stand on ceremony, Cullen of Langeron," Tek-aKet said. "At the moment I'm Tarkin of nothing but this room."

"On the contrary, Tek-aKet Tarkin," the Cloudman said sharply. "It is precisely because because you are Tarkin of more than this room, that ceremony will be observed." The two men locked gazes, and after a moment Dhulyn saw a loosening of the tension of Tek-aKet's shoulders, a lessening of the darkness in his eyes. you are Tarkin of more than this room, that ceremony will be observed." The two men locked gazes, and after a moment Dhulyn saw a loosening of the tension of Tek-aKet's shoulders, a lessening of the darkness in his eyes. Guard yourself better, Guard yourself better, she thought, she thought, make your thoughts harder to see. make your thoughts harder to see. The Tarkin of Imrion nodded, just once, as if in answer to her thoughts, and gestured to seats at the nearest tables. The Tarkin of Imrion nodded, just once, as if in answer to her thoughts, and gestured to seats at the nearest tables.

"I have just been telling our host that most of the army is away on the borders to the south and west, keeping the Kondrians honest. I don't know how many might come to us."

"I believe we may have time to put that to the test," Alkoryn said. He signaled to Fanryn Bloodhand.

"The latest news," Fanryn began, "is that the Anointing and Dedication scheduled for the new moon has been postponed. Lok-iKol has sent for the Mesticha Stone, and tells people he'll wait for its arrival. What this means, no one knows, but it's only the last and strangest of the changes the latest days have brought us. As we know," Fanryn said, tossing her hair back out of her face and accepting the cup of ganje Thionan had brought her, "the first few days found the Houses of Jarifo and Esmolo coming and going in the precincts of the Dome, giving themselves airs about the court and the city itself."

"It seems there was to be a wedding," Thionan added, "between Lok-iKol and Riv-oRiv Esmolo."

"She's young," Tek-aKet said. "Too young to marry in any case."

"Too young to marry, but not too young to be promised in marriage." Parno drew their attention as he leaned forward, elbows on the table. "It's a good move," he added. "Buys the support of an important House without really committing himself to anything." He shrugged. "A great deal can happen between now and the time the girl can actually marry."

"Well, the wedding's no longer spoken of," Fanryn said. "Now both those Houses have taken down their flags and flowerets, pulled their men off the streets, closed up their enclaves. Like those other Houses who were neither for you nor against you, Lord Tarkin, they now bide their time, waiting to weigh Lok-iKol's power, waiting to see who they should salute. What's changed them, though, that that we can't find out." we can't find out."

Disha the Racha bird suddenly hopped from the floor to the back of an unoccupied chair. As if it were cause and effect, Cullen spoke, his soft voice cool and dry.

"So the Houses are playing their tiles carefully. There's nothing new in that," he said.

"But if the Houses have withdrawn their support, it may be we have a chance to regain the Throne if we act quickly. I've sent out word through the old network," Alkoryn added, "letting people know that you're alive, Lord Tarkin, and that you will return. Soldiers and guards alike are presenting themselves at safe contact points. One who's come to us quietly with no fanfare and on foot so as to draw no attention is Fen-oNef Penradoso. He says to tell you that he doesn't forget his promise to your father, nor yet the one he made to you. If you want Lok-iKol dead, say the word."

Tek-aKet exchanged looks with those around the table, returning Parno's broad smile with one of his own. Tek-aKet's skin looked less bleached, Dhulyn thought, and the muscles of his face had regained their youthful firmness. This was what he needed to hear; that there were those who had believed in him, who were willing to support him still.

"He's a tough old man, Fen-oNef," he said, still smiling. "And I've no doubt that he would try. But it's too dangerous."

"Exactly what I told him. And it's too dangerous for him to house the would-be soldiers who keep turning up. One of the things we must think of, is a place to gather troops."

"What of the Jaldeans," Dhulyn said, leaning forward. "And the Marked?"

Fanryn's eyes flicked at the Cloudman, her question as clear as if she'd spoken it aloud. How much did they know? How much did they know? Dhulyn shrugged. It no longer mattered, she thought. As the Clouds revered the Marked, she was probably safer with them than with anyone besides her own Brothers. Dhulyn shrugged. It no longer mattered, she thought. As the Clouds revered the Marked, she was probably safer with them than with anyone besides her own Brothers.

"There's a mystery there somewhere." Fanryn shook her head. "At first, there was great rejoicing from the Jaldean Shrines, and people were talking about the dream of the Sleeping G.o.d as if they were about to join it.

"But now pet.i.tioners are being turned from the shrines, told to come back, and when they do, they're turned away again with excuses and soft words. There are no services or meditations, and the priests aren't seen in the streets. Beslyn-Tor has not been seen in over two days-not even by his own people-and some others who were believed touched by the G.o.d are also conspicuous by their absence. People are wondering what has happened to the promises the Jaldeans were making before the fall of Tek-aKet Tarkin. The very people who were so quick to support them, are now murmuring against them."