He returned her sad smile. "Will you reassure Elka that I can't help this?"

"She already knows," the Abbess said, nodding gently with encouragement.

There was nothing else to say. He gripped the iron ring, twisted it and pushed the door open. It was dark and cold inside. When he turned to say something, the Abbess had gone. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside, wondering why they would keep this woman in such dark surrounds.

I have no need of light, a tetchy voice spoke into his mind. Surprised, he staggered backward, grabbing for the door. The voice laughed. I startled you. You shouldn't think questions so loudly if you don't want them answered.

"Quirin, I'm sorry for acting afraid. I don't know what to expect."

What? You've come here and now you've got nothing to say? she demanded.

Of course-she was deaf! He frowned in concentration and thought his response to her. Forgive me. I said I was sorry for acting afraid.

He heard her chuckle, not unkindly. So they've given me a man. She made a sound of plea sure. I haven't heard one of your kind since I was a young woman. How old are you?

I don't know. He was getting the hang of how to think his responses even though it was tempting to answer in the more natural way.

Guess.

I would estimate I am in my third decade, though where in it I cannot say.

Come here. Let me feel you.

He obediently moved forward gingerly, with no real idea where he was headed. He must have thought his uncertainty because a flame suddenly erupted and a single tiny candle was lit.

The owner of the dislocated voice was hunched in robes, her head covered by a caul. She felt her way along a wall, back into the gloom of the shadows, and sat down.

Is that easier?

Yes, thank you.

You have a nice voice over the seam.

The seam?

That's what we call speaking across minds.

How am I able to do this?

Because I permit it. You are drawing on my power.

Then I thank you again.

You are a polite man. Raised well. Noble, perhaps?

I have no idea. Do you have a name?

He could hear the smile in her mind-speak. I did once. You are the first person to ask me for it in a long time.

I would have thought the nuns would know it.

I am older than most of them. They know me simply as Quirin. But Quirin is a title, not a name. And names are so important, aren't they? They unlock secrets.

Yes, he said, my name is very important to me.

I know. I have been told of your predicament. So come, let me touch you.

He approached her. Why do you hide yourself?

Because I frighten people with my appearance.

You do not frighten me.

You have not looked upon me. You will need to bend down, my friend.

He went down on his knees so she could reach out and feel the contours of his face. They both fell silent as she touched his cheekbones and chin, felt the length and texture of his hair, which hung loose today.

Finally, she sighed. A beard, so you are not so youthful but you are hardly an old man. I think you are right in your estimation, although I would place you at twenty-seven or twenty-eight anni. And you are handsome but I don't believe you've had many lovers.

He cleared his throat. Why would you assume that?

I am told you have lived with the Davarigon folk for ten anni. Before that you would have been a young man, still a youth almost. Not enough years beneath your belt for much sexual adventure-although I suspect you are no virgin. He knew he reddened, could feel the heat on his cheeks. She was right. But living with the mountain folk probably means you haven't engaged in much- None.

Why?

I have not felt inclined.

A man of twenty-seven or-eight not inclined to- Hush, Quirin, you make me blush.

He heard her amusement. She sighed, as if making a decision. My name is Vervine and I like your discomfort. I am blind but I see no pretension in you. And your embarrassment is like a small gift to one who has been starved of the opportunity to flirt.

How old are you? he said, his tone filled with bemused wonder.

Now she laughed deeply in his mind. I will help you, Gavriel de Vis. Ask me your questions.

Gavriel rocked back. As soon as she spoke it, he knew the name was correct. It was as if a door had been unlocked and pushed open the tiniest crack. Through it he could see a thin glow of light. All the answers lay behind the door. All he had to do was push it open.

Where do I belong? he asked.

And Vervine began to speak.

Twenty-Two.

Kilt Faris was rounding the same bend in the road that Lily had only a day or two earlier. As Woodingdene came into view, he was struck by the beauty of the town. What the ancient Valisars had begun, Brennus had continued here but Faris hadn't seen the region in the last six or seven anni and it seemed Loethar was the ruler who had made the real difference. All the buildings looked cleaned, freshly painted, and generally in such good repair that he stopped his horse, shocked, to gaze upon what had once been a village struggling to become a town and was now a thriving town destined to become a city. With the weather moving into easily the most temperate and enjoyable time, the sun made the pastel-colored buildings sparkle. Faris smiled in spite of his mood.

He immediately looked for the inn, recalling it had once been called the The Golden Coin. It had been re-named The Emperor's Head and displayed a portrait of a man, presumably Loethar, on its sign. Funny, he'd never seen the emperor in all these years. He cocked his head, wondering if the depiction was a true likeness; if so, it intrigued him with its strong jaw, dark looks and serious expression. He left his horse at the stable, paying for her to be rubbed down, fed and watered and for his saddle to be oiled.

Inside the inn, he began his mission of research, first ordering a jug of ale to please the innkeeper at this time of the morning when business for ale was slow. A group of soldiers, bearing tatua, was drinking in the corner. But they were quiet and hardly looked up at his entry. Kilt deliberately didn't let his gaze linger as he took off his distinctive hat.

"You must be thirsty," the man commented as he banged the full jug down.

"Oh, I think my eyes are always bigger than my belly," Kilt admitted, forcing weariness into his tone. "I've been dreaming of this ale for many hours."

"Ah, a long journey then?"

"Yes, I'm up from the south," he lied.

"Do you want a room?"

"I'm not sure yet."

The man nodded. "You let me know."

Kilt poured himself a mug of ale and, although he wasn't in the mood for it, made a big show of swallowing at least half the contents, burping politely but loudly enough that all heard and grinned. "That tastes good."

"That's because it's made here. We don't take that stuff from Vorgaven...that overly yeasty brew," the innkeeper admitted with a conspiratorial air. "We brew right here. Well, the brewery is actually at Overdene just in the next town but it might as well be here."

"It's excellent," Kilt said. In truth, he was unable to distinguish one ale from the next. He and his men were grateful to get any whenever they could.

"How long are you here for?" the man asked, making conversation as he hung up tankards in preparation for the busy evening ahead.

"Again, I'm not sure," Kilt said, sipping again, acting nonchalant. "I'm actually here to find my...er, sister."

"Oh? She's local?"

"No. But I've news from home for her and I believe she passed through here recently. She might still be here if I'm lucky."

The man frowned. "What's her name?"

"Lily Jeves."

The man shook his head. "We've had no one in here of that name-staying, I mean."

Kilt nodded. It had been a long shot and he hadn't expected her to have been a guest at the inn but he hoped she might have been seen or heard of. He had to start somewhere, he told himself, feeling suddenly morose; it didn't matter if his first probe drew a blank.

A soldier came to the counter and banged four mugs on the surface. "One more round, Arwin, and then we'll be on our way."

The innkeeper nodded. "Where are you off to?" he asked the soldier as he filled the mugs.

"Dregon."

"You haven't heard of a Lily Jeves, have you?"

The man shook his head. "Should I?"

"This...er, what's your name?"

"Rik Jeves," Kilt said, only at the last moment remembering that he was meant to be Lily's brother. He swallowed some ale to hide his expression of relief. Then as an afterthought he held out his hand.

"He's looking for his sister," the innkeeper explained.

As the soldier was staring at his proffered hand, Kilt felt obliged to act more eager for information. "Er, long dark hair, about this tall," he said, indicating with his other hand. "Very pretty, although I would never tell her that." The man shook his hand and Kilt, relieved, continued, "Greenish eyes, probably wearing a blue cloak with-"

"I think I have seen her," the man said, frowning, slightly confused.

Kilt's heart flipped. "Really?"

"Yes, well, it could be her. We brought her here, if it's the same woman."

Now Kilt's heart began to hammer. "Brought her into Woodingdene, or to this inn?" he asked shaking his head, deliberately looking muddled, trying to keep his expression even. He knew full well Lily had been to this town. He just needed to know precisely where.

"Into town. She was traveling with a man, right?"

Kilt shrugged. "Probably her-"

"Husband, yes," the man said, his frown deepening.

The mouthful of ale Kilt had just swigged stuck in his throat. He had to force himself to swallow. "Er, yes, probably."

"They were definitely traveling as a couple, this pair I'm thinking of."

"Yes, that's right. She's married," Kilt blurted. Was Lily pretending to be married to Kirin Felt? Why?

The soldier swung around. "Ho, Brimen, what was the name of that couple we escorted here the other day? You know, the one that the Wikken Shorgan was interested in."

Wikken. Kilt's stomach clenched.

The man called Brimen shrugged. "Not sure I caught their names. Ronder will know, though. He spent most of his time talking with them."

"Ronder?" Kilt queried. "Where can I find him?"

The man at the counter shrugged. "He's coming with us later today so I know he's here. He's probably over at the barracks."

"Can I go over there and ask?"

The man nodded. "I don't see why they'd give you trouble."

Kilt smiled and tossed some coins across the counter. "That should cover my jug and the round for these good men," he said with a feigned grin at the innkeeper. "Thank you," he added to the soldier.

The soldier's tatua moved as he smiled in return. "Tell anyone who may try to stop you that Shev said it was all right to let you speak with Ronder."