Zella took the hand that lay on the outside of the thick feather bedcover. "Here I thought that, once we were back in the Dome, all our troubles would be over. I would rather have you well, than all the thrones in the world."

Tek squeezed her hand and she thought she saw him smile.

"It is only a headache, Zella," he said. "The Mercenary Knife said, from the knock on my head. It will pa.s.s."

Zella nodded, smiling. "Dal-eDal is suggesting that you show yourself to your men, and to some of the other Houses, now that you are awake. They need to know that you are well, and Tarkin again."

"I'm so tired." And indeed, his voice was lower than she had ever heard it, even the time that he'd had the coughing sickness and had lost his voice for three days. There had been no Healer then, either, now that she thought about it.

"I thought perhaps a short audience," she said now. "It would have to be in the throne room itself, I'm afraid, but we could get you seated before inviting your n.o.bles in . . . And we could be careful of the light, so long as they could clearly see you."

"No Mercenaries," he said. "Not Dal-eDal."

Zella licked her lips, hesitating. Dal had been a great help to her while Tek was unconscious, and she well understood that without the help of the Mercenaries, neither she nor Tek-nor their children-would be alive to have this discussion.

He seemed to take in what she left unspoken.

"It's the appearance," he said. "I-we. We mustn't look as though we were relying on paid troops, no matter how respected the Brotherhood is. And even if Dal has not yet been confirmed as Tenebroso, his attendance might send the wrong message."

Zella nodded, relief making her smile come naturally. Tek was talking and thinking like his old self. "I see, that's well thought out," she said.

"Get Gan to arrange it."

Zella felt her face go stiff. "Gan-eGan is dead, my heart. Don't you remember?"

"Trying to tickle me?" she said, aiming a blow at his left shoulder which he parried, making her duck under a cut to her head.

Parno grinned. "And why, exactly, shouldn't I tickle you?"

"Because you know what tickling leads to." She saw her opening, slapped his sword aside with the palm of her hand against the flat of the blade, and stepped into him, taking his wrist in her left hand and throwing her sword arm around his neck. She kissed him, light touches on cheeks, chin, and lips, as he laughed. "And we have company." She made to step back, but his arms had gone around her, so she turned in their circle and smiled her wolf's smile at the two men approaching from under the arches of the arcade along the north side of the courtyard.

Parno whistled softly next to her ear as he let his arms fall away, releasing her. She gave Dal-eDal and Karlyn-Tan a short nod before turning to the stone bench where they'd left their other weapons. She tossed Parno his shirt and slipped her vest on over her breastband.

"I see we're not the only ones left uninvited to Tek-aKet's audience," Parno said, as he wiped the sweat off his face and arms with his shirt.

Dal-eDal shrugged, tilting his head to one side. "I could see how my presence might be awkward, but I was surprised when I heard that you were also excluded."

Parno grinned. "Politically, it's an astute move. Now isn't the time to remind the Houses that the Tarkinate was restored by a handful of Mercenary Brothers."

"You were always more politically aware than I," Dal-eDal said, with a short bow. "And that is why I have come to you. I felt you should be told. The Tarkin has sent word that he will confirm me as Tenebroso four days from now."

"You don't need my my permission." permission."

Dal shook his head, lips pressed tight. "Nor do I ask for it. But I find that I would like your . . . your approval."

"You have it." Parno's voice was low and cool.

"The reason for your Casting Out has been removed, and I would like to offer you the shelter of the House once more. So that you are Tenebro again."

Dhulyn's heart thundered in her ears as Parno remained silent a long moment. Would he give the same answer here, in front of others, that he had given her?

"Don't take offense at what I'm about to say, Dal," Parno finally said. "But I want you to remember that I didn't leave the House. Do you understand? It was taken from me. I was Cast out." Karlyn-Tan's head came up, and he looked sharply at Parno. "I have another House now, one that I can never lose. And I have a Partner. Not even death will release me from that bond." He looked down at Dhulyn and touched her cheek with his fingertips. "In Battle," he said.

"And in Death," she answered, forcing her voice through the barrier in her throat. in Death," she answered, forcing her voice through the barrier in her throat.

"I understand." Dal-eDal swallowed. "But I will will consider you my cousin. A Tenebro." He looked at Dhulyn. "Both of you. The task of being Tenebroso will be difficult enough without you." consider you my cousin. A Tenebro." He looked at Dhulyn. "Both of you. The task of being Tenebroso will be difficult enough without you."

"Want my advice?"

"Always."

"Just ask yourself, what would Lok do? And do the opposite."

Dal-eDal joined the laugh, but Dhulyn thought his eyes were not smiling.

"All's well, my soul?" Was it possible that the woman was still worrying about Dal-eDal and the lure of House Tenebro? Would this uncertainty haunt her forever?

His heart froze as she looked up the short distance between them, frowning, her blood-red brows drawn down in a sharp vee.

"I don't like Tek-aKet's behavior," she said. "I don't like our being excluded."

Parno let out his breath slowly. After all this time, he still expected her to react like a civilized woman-as his mother or sisters might have done, wanting to talk it over, rea.s.suring themselves again and again. Was he ever going to know her well enough to know what she was thinking? Did he want to?

"Tek's position is logical, politically speaking."

"There is no such thing as logic, politically politically speaking." speaking."

"Ah, so young to be so cynical."

She shook her head, lips pursed. "There's something off. Something wrong."

Parno pushed the door open and let Dhulyn precede him into the baths before he answered. "Let me see if I understand. We've killed Lok-iKol, restored the rightful Tarkin to the Carnelian Throne, we're valued guests of the Tarkinate . . ." He imitated Dhulyn, shaking his head, pursing his lips. "No, I can't say that I see a problem."

Parno doubled over, gasping, as Dhulyn poked him in the solar plexis with stiffened fingers, and stepped around him to shut the door against the cooler air of the corridor. "You've forgotten the Green Shadow."

"Well, I was trying trying to, yes." Parno dragged in a ragged breath, fully aware that he didn't sound as lighthearted as he was pretending to be. "Unlike some overeducated Outlanders of my acquaintance, I don't like to dwell excessively on the negative. As I said before, evil defeated, Tarkin restored, Mercenaries luxuriating in well-appointed baths of Carnelian Dome-no, I see no difficulties here." to, yes." Parno dragged in a ragged breath, fully aware that he didn't sound as lighthearted as he was pretending to be. "Unlike some overeducated Outlanders of my acquaintance, I don't like to dwell excessively on the negative. As I said before, evil defeated, Tarkin restored, Mercenaries luxuriating in well-appointed baths of Carnelian Dome-no, I see no difficulties here."

Dhulyn sat down on the cedar wood bench just inside the door and pulled up her right foot, but made no other attempt to remove her boot. "I hope you're right," she said. "But, somehow, I'm not so sure about evil's being defeated." After a moment she looked up, her eyes still focused inward. "Zelianora tells me that other than the b.u.mp on his head, Tek-aKet has no injuries."

"And so?"

Dhulyn sighed, shutting her eyes. "Why are you being so stubborn? If his arm was not broken, why did the man scream when I touched him?"

"What are you saying?"

"Has anyone noted the color of his eyes?"

He knew there were some among the staff and Carnelian Guard who hadn't thought that well of Tek-aKet Tarkin, who'd maybe been a bit pleased when he was gone. But there were few-very few-who had found they actually preferred Lok-iKol Tenebro. For the last three days the halls and corridors had been filled with smiling faces, Rab-iRab, the Tarkina's lady page, was practically dancing in her work, and altogether everything, Tel thought with satisfaction, was once again as it should be. few-who had found they actually preferred Lok-iKol Tenebro. For the last three days the halls and corridors had been filled with smiling faces, Rab-iRab, the Tarkina's lady page, was practically dancing in her work, and altogether everything, Tel thought with satisfaction, was once again as it should be.

Today he was so happy that he wasn't really listening very hard to the conversations behind him. After the first few they were pretty much the same. The first House into the room had been Fen-oNef Penrado, no surprise there. His support for Tek-aKet Tarkin had been unwavering. The second was was unexpected. It was Jor-iRoj Esmolo's daughter whom rumor had promised to Lok-iKol. Either the rumor had been false, or the Esmoloso was anxious that Tek-aKet believe it so. After that bit of excitement, the conversations had been boringly repet.i.tious. If everyone was so glad to see Tek-aKet in what they all referred to as his "rightful place," how had it been so easy for Lok-iKol Tenebro to sit in it? unexpected. It was Jor-iRoj Esmolo's daughter whom rumor had promised to Lok-iKol. Either the rumor had been false, or the Esmoloso was anxious that Tek-aKet believe it so. After that bit of excitement, the conversations had been boringly repet.i.tious. If everyone was so glad to see Tek-aKet in what they all referred to as his "rightful place," how had it been so easy for Lok-iKol Tenebro to sit in it?

Tel stood straighter to attention and p.r.i.c.ked up his ears. Old Fen-oNef was approaching the throne again, and since he'd already paid his respects, this meant that he had some other business with the Tarkin, business that might require the Tarkin's Runner.

"My lord Tarkin," the old man was saying. "I see there are no Jaldeans present this afternoon."

A little surprised, Tel glanced around the room. No, there weren't any of the recognizable dark brown robes. How had he missed that?

"They are saying, my lord, that the Jaldean Shrines are shut, and pet.i.tioners are being turned away."

"Is this so?" The Tarkin sounded tired. Tel hoped the audience would be over soon.

"My men tell me that one of the shrines has been broken open by discontented believers, and found empty, not a priest or acolyte in sight."

Tel carefully kept his face from showing his surprise. He knew that Lok-iKol had stopped supporting the New Believers as soon as his particular friend the priest Beslyn-Tor had become ill, but he hadn't been aware just how far the fortunes of the Jaldeans had fallen.

"My lord." Old Fen-oNef was still speaking. "If you would take the frank advice of an old ally, let me remind you what your father would have done in these circ.u.mstances." Fen-oNef waited for the Tarkin's nod before proceeding. Old family friend he might be, fool he was not. "Once or twice it seemed that the Houses had lost confidence in Nyl-aLyn Tarkin." Here the old man smiled, brushing back his long mustaches with the back of his hand, but Tel managed to keep his face straight. He knew that with his "once or twice" Fen-oNef referred to the near-rebellions that Tek-aKet's fierce father had suppressed. "At those times, you may remember," the old man continued, "your father held a Ceremony of Dedication, where each House reaffirmed its loyalty and support. Why not do the same? If nothing else, it is a marvelous excuse for a banquet."

At this Tel did smile, almost squirming at his post in excitement. He'd been too young to be a page when Tek-aKet became Tarkin, but a Dedication was almost as good as an Anointing.

"An excellent suggestion, Fen," Tek-aKet said, his hand straying up to his left cheek. Tel frowned. He'd seen that gesture once or twice already, and if the Tarkin's head still pained him, this audience should be cut short.

"It will take some organization, I know," Fen-oNef said. "But I'm sure Gan-eGan has left able a.s.sistants, and, if I may, I would advise this as soon as possible."

The Tarkin tapped his mouth with the first two fingers of his right hand as he considered this. "I agree," he said finally. "Preparations can begin immediately, but I would suggest the ceremony itself wait for the arrival of the Mesticha Stone. That should serve to quell any fears felt by the Jaldeans and appease their faction."

The Tarkin and the Penradoso went on speaking, but their words were drowned by the buzzing in Tel's ears. The Mesticha Stone? Tel had almost forgotten about it, even though he himself had helped the Steward of Keys arrange with a representative of the Jaldeans for the Stone's arrival. One of the small rooms behind the throne had been designated as the artifact's resting place, though as yet no changes had been made.

But it had been Lok-iKol who had asked for these arrangements, not Tek-aKet. He risked a glance over his shoulder at the Tarkin. What did Tek-aKet know about this? How How did he know? did he know?

It wasn't until after the evening meal that Telian-Han decided he would, after all, speak to someone about what he'd overheard.

"One of those Tenebro girls came to be a lady page with us last year," Rab had said. "Zelianora Tarkina gave her a three-month trial before sending her home. She won't tolerate any of that type here." Rab had welcomed her Tarkina back with laughter, and not a few tears, and had embraced Mar willingly, all the more so as her fellow senior page had left to be married some few weeks before the night of terror.

Of course, it didn't hurt that Rab had been much impressed by Mar's adventures. "It reminds me of the Tale of Evanian the Carver, Tale of Evanian the Carver," she'd said. "I hope your life has every bit as good an ending."

It was the same excited but serious look that Rab-iRab was wearing now.

"Mar," she said, barely waiting for the door to close behind them. "Is the Tarkina still asleep?"

Zelianora had come back from the audience in the throne room exhausted, her emotional resources worn to thinness by all that had happened in the last half moon. Now that she was finally enjoying a deep and satisfying sleep, Mar was reluctant to wake her, and said so.

"This is Telian-Han," Rab said, indicating the younger boy. "He's one of the Tarkin's pages."

Mar smiled at the boy and he smiled back, though the frown that drew down the corners of his eyes did not go away. "Can your message wait until the Tarkina awakens?"

"It's not a message, Lady Mar," the boy said, clearing his throat as his voice croaked. "It's something that happened in the throne room this afternoon. Something that worried me."

"It won't seem like much," Rab said. "But it made me think of something you'd told me in your adventures. How the Wolfshead said that a scout's report should include everything, even the details that don't seem important because you can't tell what's important until you have all all the details." the details."

Mar looked from one young face to another. The boy was definitely frightened, and desperately hiding it. Rab's flushed cheeks showed her excitement, but her eyes were steady and serious. These two lived here with Lok-iKol, These two lived here with Lok-iKol, Mar reminded herself. Mar reminded herself. And with whatever Lok had become. And with whatever Lok had become. They'd been having their own adventures. They'd been having their own adventures.

"Tell me," she said. "Maybe together we can decide what to do."

Mar could tell from the practiced way he told the story that Tel had given this a great deal of thought. What she couldn't see was why the boy was so frightened.

"The Mesticha Stone is an important artifact," she said. "And it would take time to prepare a Dedication Ceremony in any case, so why not wait for it?"

"It was the way he said it," Tel said. "It . . . I'd heard him, him, the other one, say it just about exactly the same way. The same tone in his voice, the same words. Even the part about 'appeasing the Jaldean faction.' Tek-aKet Tarkin never cared about appeasing Jaldeans," the boy said, his lip curling. "And even less so now, from what we've been told. It was as if I was hearing Lok-iKol speaking with the Tarkin's voice." the other one, say it just about exactly the same way. The same tone in his voice, the same words. Even the part about 'appeasing the Jaldean faction.' Tek-aKet Tarkin never cared about appeasing Jaldeans," the boy said, his lip curling. "And even less so now, from what we've been told. It was as if I was hearing Lok-iKol speaking with the Tarkin's voice."

Lok-iKol or something else. Mar fought to keep the sudden surge of fear from her face.

"What color are the Tarkin's eyes," she asked.

"Blue," said both pages in unison.

"And are they still blue? They don't seem green?"

The two pages looked at one another, looked back at Mar and shook their heads, confusion evident on their faces.

Mar was not rea.s.sured. "I don't think we'll go to the Tarkina with this," she said finally. "Not quite yet anyway." Gun had gone to the Library, and might not return tonight if he found something useful among the books and scrolls. That left only one person she could take this to. Mar rose to her feet and set down the book she'd been reading. "Let's find Dhulyn Wolfshead."

"I thought you were there for the rest of the day, challenging all comers," she said as he caught up with her.

His pipes bleated a mournful note as he tucked them closer under his elbow, freeing his other arm to slip around her waist as they continued down the corridor.

"Pah," he snorted, a feigned disgust wrinkling his lips. "As if there's any contest when the Tarkin's own Chanter gets involved. The woman does nothing all day but play. Small wonder she can best the rest of us."

"There, there, my soul," Dhulyn said, grinning. "There's plenty you can do better than she."