Kalan looked at him in surprise. "You can do that?"

He shook his head reluctantly. "Don't get too excited about the idea, Kal. Calling on the gods for direct intervention comes at a very high cost."

"What sort of cost?"

"Your soul, usually."

She laughed at him, obviously thinking he was teasing her. "Are you telling me you've sold your soul to a god, Wrayan Lightfinger?"

"Every last bit of it. To save your mother, actually."

Kalan's smile faded. "Are you serious?"

Wrayan nodded. "It happened a long time ago. Before your mother was even married to Laran Krakenshield. I accidentally cast a spell on her and had to call on a god to lift it."

"The God of Thieves," Kalan guessed. "Dacendaran."

He smiled. "I had to promise to become the greatest thief in all of Hythria."

"And are you?" she asked.

"I like to think so," he replied smugly.

She smiled. "And if you call on Dacendaran again?"

"Then I suspect Starros is going to have to consider a career change."

Kalan shrugged and looked down at her foster-brother. "That may not be such a big deal, you know. I'm fairly certain he doesn't have a future waiting for him in Krakandar Palace any longer."

"Even so, it's a big thing to ask of someone. My father was a pickpocket. I grew up worshipping the God of Thieves. I made my deal with Dacendaran fully aware of what it meant. Starros doesn't have that luxury, and I'm not sure, in his place, that I'd like to wake up to find my soul's been traded away on my behalf without being consulted."

"Let's see what Rorin can do first then," she agreed, "before we start invoking divine intervention." Kalan glanced up at the rapidly brightening day and frowned. "Speaking of Rorin, I wish I knew what happened up at the palace last night. Damin looked pretty angry when I left."

"Well, you can be fairly certain both your uncle and your brother are still alive."

"How?"

"No bells," he told her. "If anything really awful had happened to either Krakandar's regent or her prince, the city would be ringing with them."

"That's a really comforting thought, Wrayan."

He grinned at her tiredly. "I do try my hardest to help, you know."

The sound of the front door opening put an end to any further speculation about the fate of her uncle or her brother. Wrayan put the tea down beside the smoking candle stub and together they hurried out into the main room to find Fyora carefully locking the door behind her. Rorin was with her, dressed in regular street clothes rather than his black sorcerer's robes-a wise move if one didn't particularly want to be noticed in the Beggars' Quarter.

"Where have you been?" Kalan demanded of Rorin, as soon as she saw him.

"I came as soon as I could," Rorin replied. "How's Starros?"

"Struggling," Wrayan told him. "It's time to find out how much healing knowledge Shananara left you with."

The young man nodded. "I'll do what I can. Have you seen Damin?"

"No," Kalan replied. "Why?"

Rorin seemed more than a little concerned. "I thought he might have come down here last night, after he . . ." His voice trailed off, and he looked at Kalan as if he didn't have the words to tell her what he must.

Wrayan studied him for a moment, reading Rorin's unease simply from the way he was standing, the whole manner in which he spoke, rather than picking up on his thoughts. Whatever news the young man brought, it wasn't good.

"Fee, can you put the word out on the street that Damin might be somewhere in the city? See if anybody's seen him?"

Annoyed by the realisation that she was being sent away, Fyora nodded her agreement reluctantly and let herself out of the small house, muttering about ungrateful wretches who didn't deserve her aid or assistance.

Kalan waited until she saw Fyora's shadow pass by the window facing the narrow street before she demanded an explanation. "After Damin what?" she asked suspiciously.

Rorin looked away uncomfortably. "Damin and Mahkas had something of an altercation, I suppose you could call it."

"What's that mean in reality?" Wrayan asked doubtfully.

"He damn near killed him."

"Mahkas almost killed Damin?" Kalan gasped.

"Damin almost killed Mahkas," the young sorcerer corrected. "I've never seen anybody so furious in my entire life, Kal. I swear, if Tejay Lionsclaw hadn't been there to reason with him, Damin may have actually killed your uncle with his bare hands."

"I'm not surprised," Wrayan said. "Damin and Starros were always close. He wouldn't have stood by and let what's been done to his best friend go unchallenged."

Rorin shook his head. "It wasn't about Starros . . ." He hesitated, obviously unsure about how to go on. "I guess there's no easy way to break this to you. I'm so sorry, Kalan. Leila killed herself within minutes of Mahkas telling her Starros was dead."

Kalan cried out in wordless despair and sagged against Wrayan with the shock of Rorin's news.

He caught her in his arms and helped her sit down on the narrow wooden bench by the fire, where she put her head in her hands, sobbing for her cousin, muttering something about it being her fault.

Squatting beside her, his arm around her shoulders, he glanced up at Rorin. "And you don't know where Damin is now?"

"Nobody's seen him since last night when he left Mahkas bleeding on the floor of his study with a severed windpipe."

"Will he live?" Wrayan wasn't particularly concerned for Mahkas Damaran, but he was acutely aware of what it would mean if Krakandar's regent died.

"He'll live," Rorin confirmed. "I healed it as best I could, but I doubt he'll ever speak in much more than a whisper again. Damin punched him in the throat."

"That's got to hurt," Wrayan grimaced.

Rorin nodded grimly. "I imagine it did, given Damin was wearing a spiked battle gauntlet at the time."

"Ouch," Wrayan said, thinking of the pain and the damage a strong gauntleted fist could do to something as delicate as a human throat. "And you say you can't find Damin now?"

"It's like he's vanished completely."

"He won't have done that," Wrayan said confidently. "After you've seen to Starros, I'll see if I can sense him. Given enough time, I should be able to track him down. Failing that, Fee may have some luck. Damin Wolfblade won't get very far in Krakandar City without somebody recognising him."

"I thought you couldn't find a shielded mind?"

"I said I had almost no chance of finding one shielded mind in the vastness of the southern Medalonian plains, as I recall," he reminded the young sorcerer. "Finding someone here in the confines of the city is a different matter entirely. I can't speak directly to Damin's mind, of course, because of the shield, but I should be able to pinpoint every shielded mind within the walls of the city if I try hard enough. There's not that many of them." He turned back to Kalan who was still sobbing inconsolably.

"Come on, Kal," he said gently. "It's not your fault."

She turned and buried her head into his shoulder. "It is my fault, Wrayan," she sobbed, her voice muffled by his coat. "I made Leila believe Starros was dead. She killed herself because she thought he was gone. I know she did. That's why she was so calm, so serene, when I left her. She'd decided to do it even then . . . Oh, gods, if only I'd stayed with her . . ."

"There, there, Kalan," he murmured, like a mother comforting a small child. Wrayan held her close and let her cry, thinking Kalan was probably right. Leila adored Starros. He was the one bright spot in her life, the man who loved her simply for being Leila. "Don't torment yourself. Leila made her own decision. And if anything, we're all at fault here," he told her, holding her close. "Not just you."

Kalan lifted her head and stared at him in confusion, sniffing loudly. "What do you mean?"

"Every one of us who knew about them, all of us who encouraged them, everyone who turned a blind eye to them . . . we're all to blame. There was no way this was ever going to end happily."

"I should have done something," Kalan insisted, wiping away a fresh round of tears. "I should have told Mahkas to go to hell when he made me promise to back him up in his lie."

"And if you had, the chances are Leila would still be dead," Rorin said. "Mahkas was planning to have his way or a funeral. You can't blame yourself for that."

"I wish Damin had killed him," she announced savagely.

"No, you don't," Rorin told her. "The problems that would have caused don't bear thinking about. Under the circumstances, he couldn't do much at all really. No more than you can."

She glared at him. "Care to wager on that?"

Wrayan shook his head in concern. "Kalan, Rorin is right. Don't buy into this. Damin's taken enough vengeance for all of you and now you need to let it go. If not for your Aunt Bylinda's sake, then think of Starros."

"I can't go back to the palace," she warned, her eyes dangerous. "If I saw Mahkas now, the way I'm feeling, a punch in the throat with a metal gauntlet would seem the least of his problems."

"You can stay down here," Wrayan offered. "I don't imagine you'll be missed at the palace for a while yet." He glanced up at Rorin. "You ready to try a bit of magic on our friend?"

Rorin nodded. "I'll see what I can do," he promised. "But don't expect too much."

"Do what you can," Wrayan told him, jerking his head in the direction of the other room on the ground floor where Starros lay. Rorin took a deep breath and headed into the bedroom, leaving Wrayan alone with Kalan.

She was still sobbing, tormented by the thought that she might have contributed to Leila's suicide. He sat beside her on the bench, gathered her into his arms, and let her cry against him, whispering soothing nonsense words to her that did nothing but prevent the silence and her grief from completely overwhelming her.

Chapter 73.

Wrayan eventually found Damin down in the fens. After scanning the city for the telltale feel of a shielded mind that wasn't at either the palace or the safe house, he located the young prince amid the dense foliage and hidden pools of Krakandar's water supply.

Wrayan had never been to the fens in all the time he'd lived in Krakandar, and could quite easily have got lost when he went looking for the prince, but he had an unfair advantage.

Fixing on Damin's shielded mind and using it like a beacon in the early morning light, he sought him out with the unerring sureness of a man who had the benefit of supernatural assistance.

"You know, for a thief, you don't sneak about very well," Damin remarked, stepping onto the path in front of Wrayan and making him jump with fright. "I could hear you coming half an hour ago when you stumbled through the gate."

The young prince obviously wasn't pleased to see him. Wrayan got the distinct impression he didn't particularly want to be found. He still wore his bloodstained leather armour. He had taken off the gauntlets, though, Wrayan was relieved to discover.

"Not my natural element down here among the wild things," Wrayan said with a cautious smile, wary about Damin's mood. The young man gave no obvious sign of his frame of mind. "You can keep your bugs and spiders. Give me a roof to scramble over any day. Besides, I wasn't trying to sneak up on you."

"You came looking for me, though."

"The entire city is looking for you, Damin. Have you been down here all night?"

"It's the only place in the whole city I've ever been able to hide."

Damin turned and walked back along the path a little until he came to a small clearing. Wrayan followed him, looking around curiously.

"Starros and I claimed this place as our own when we were children," Damin explained. "It seemed as good a place as any to get lost in for a while."

Wrayan could well imagine how the still darkness of the fens would have felt like the only safe haven in Krakandar last night, when Damin had come down here. He would have needed time to calm the rage inside him, time to deal with what had happened.

And what he'd done. The murky darkness would have suited his mood.

"How's Starros?"

Wrayan shrugged. "He's still alive."

"You sound surprised."

"To be honest, I am, a little. Rorin's with him now, but he's not very optimistic. We may find ourselves caught between two equally unpalatable choices."

"What choices?"

"Letting him die or asking the gods to intervene."

Damin looked horrified that he could even suggest such a thing. "Surely it's not a question of choice? If you can prevail upon the gods to help, Wrayan, for pity's sake, why are you standing here? Do it!"

"Even if it costs Starros his soul?"

"Even that! Gods, I thought you were part Harshini! You can't just let him die!"

"Not even if he wants to?"

"Starros isn't the sort to throw his life away on a whim."

"Neither was Leila, I would have thought," Wrayan replied. "But that was her choice when faced with the prospect of going on without Starros. Why do you imagine his reaction to going on without the love of his life would be any different to Leila's?"

Damin glared at the thief and, for a brief moment, Wrayan was reminded that this was Krakandar's prince, not just Starros the fosterling's best friend. "Leila was doing more than giving up, Wrayan," he said with unexpected insight. "She was taking her revenge on Mahkas with the only weapon she had. Her own life. She might have felt she had nothing to live for once she believed Starros was dead, but it was the desperate need to get back at her father that gave her a reason to die."