He had understood the slap Brelan had given him even if his brother had not. He had seen the wild gleam of horror the moment the blow had come. There had been so much between the two men over the years. So much animosity, so much unwillingness to see into the other's heart, that now, so many years away from the rivalries of childhood, Conar could see what both he and Brelan had been denying so vehemently over the years-their love for one another.

It was there when Brelan first saw him. It was there in the way Brelan's voice cracked. It was there in the actions of that day. Conar had understood in a moment of painful clarity.

And he had understood his own feelings, as well. That love was there in the forgiveness even before the deed had been done, the first blow struck. It had been there in the sorrow he had felt that Brelan had to be the one to hurt him. It had been there in his heart like a seed coming to life after a harsh winter thaw.

And he could feel it growing.

Lying on Xander Hesar's examination table as his hands were bandaged, Conar willed his attention away from the throbbing, burning pain in his hands. He turned from Roget's concerned face and Shalu's blank one to the door where Sentian stood. He saw Heil glance behind him, frown and step hesitantly out of the way of the man entering the hut.

There was a stiffness in Brelan's voice, a cutting edge that denied his compa.s.sion. "How long will it be before he can use his hands again?"

The Healer looked up at Roget. "You may leave, du Mer."

"I..." Roget began.

"Do as he says," Brelan ordered. He looked at Sentian. "All of you go back to your huts."

Shalu glanced at the Healer, then nodded. He took Sentian's arm and propelled the arguing young man out of the hut with him. With a glare at Brelan, Du Mer followed. "He won't be able to use his hands for several weeks, Lord Saur," Xander said. "His fingers were broken before he ran away and they've never healed properly. The Commandant has ordered him locked in his cage until they do."

Brelan's eyes, and temper, flared. "What cage?"

"The one he has spent much of his time inside since being brought to this wretched place." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "You've seen the chicken coops? That's where he was kept."

Brelan took three quick steps to the Healer's side. His face flamed red with fury. "I will not have any prisoner caged like an animal! I have the Tribunal's authority, and the King's authority, to make any necessary adjustments I feel need making! I am Chief Warden. If I see inmates being mistreated, I will handle it!"

"Like you did with Ching-Ching?" Xander asked quietly.

Brelan stared at the man.

"I saw you, Lord Saur. I've been here a long time, but I recognize Gerren McGregor's whelps when I see them." He shrugged. "You look more like your mama than you do Gerren, but you have that unmistakable McGregor stamp on you." He picked up his bandages and ointments and carried them to a cabinet on the wall. "I saw you when you were here last and when you left. It's a funny thing, Lord Saur. When you left, three men disappeared from the colony." He grinned. "You wouldn't have seen where they went, would you?"

"And yet you didn't report it."

The Healer nonchalantly pursed his lips. "I don't report everything I see. Just as I will not report the talk you are about

to have with your prisoner."

Brelan blinked.

"I'm an old man. Sometimes I have difficulty with my hearing." He shut the cabinet and walked to the doorway. "But

my eyesight is perfect. I can keep watch for you."

"Why would you?"

The Healer stood with his back to Brelan. "Let's say I owe a debt to someone."

"Who?"

"That's unimportant."

"Why should I trust you?"

"It's up to you, but I know why you're here, Lord Saur. Unless I miss my guess, there'll be a few men disappearing from this colony about the time you leave again." He looked at Brelan. "One in particular, I would imagine." He smiled and turned his back again.

Conar had been carefully following the conversation between the two men. He knew they could trust the Healer, for the man had cared for him over the years with as much compa.s.sion as he had been allowed. He hoped Brelan could see the truth of the man's honor.

"He needs his rest, Lord Saur." The Healer's voice was growing disdainful. "If you're going to interrogate him, do so before he falls asleep. I gave him a sedative." Brelan ground his teeth, but then he turned his attention to Conar. "Don't look away from me!" Brelan hissed, gently lifting Conar's head. "Don't you dare lower you eyes to me!"

Conar's gaze shifted to Brelan's, wavered, then darted away. Not out of shame or conditioning, but because Brelan's was so dear at that moment, he felt like crying. He was all too aware he was trembling. His head jerked as Brelan shook him.

"Listen!" Saur's voice was strong and compelling, hard and unrelenting. "I'll not have you debase yourself to me. We're family!" His voice went low. "I didn't want to do that to you." "I know, Bre," came the croaking reply. "Then, don't look at me as though I'm about to have you flogged! I'm here to help, Coni. Legion sent me to get out the others. We had no way of knowing you were here, but I'll take you with us. Understand?" He looked up with confusion. "I asked if you understood!" Brelan snapped, aware of the hurt look his question had brought to Conar's pale face. Conar nodded, now unable to look away even if his life depended on it. He met Brelan's angry stare with sorrow. "You don't believe me?" Brelan asked. Conar wanted to answer, but he couldn't trust himself. He looked away. "It's true! I'm here to take the others home. To take you home!" Conar's throat felt raw, his body hot and sticky. He sighed, recognizing the onset of another fever. He could feel it spreading, claiming him again. Fleetingly, he wondered if he would ever be free of it. "Say something!" "I'll never leave here, Brelan."

Brelan drew in a sharp breath. Just hearing his brother speak with such hopelessness made him want to kill the men who had dared hurt him so badly. Hearing what he had said hurt like a knife thrusting into his gut. "Don't say that! Don't even think it!'

"They'll never let me leave here alive. They can't." "Whatever I set out to do, I do! Do you think I'd leave you here?" "Why not?" "Because you are my brother! I won't let anything happen to you!" "There was a time you felt differently." Brelan's face flamed red. "That was a long time ago. A lot has changed. I've changed." "And I," Conar said softly. The pain in that statement tore through Brelan's heart. "Through no fault of your own." "Look at me," Conar told him. "If I were to go back, don't you think the sight of me would hurt those I left behind?"

Brelan knew who his brother meant. "I see a man who has spent six years in h.e.l.l and survived. A man who came back from the dead. Those he left behind will care only that he's alive."

"No one need ever know. The man they remember died long ago. It is best he stay dead."

Brelan cupped Conar's cheeks in his hands. "I will take you home whether you want to go or not! And I will see to it you are treated like a human being from now on."

"You shouldn't interfere."

"If you think I'm afraid of that fat slug, you don't know me very well, brother!"

"They'll find a way to hurt you and the others if you help me. I don't want to be the cause-"

"They won't do anything more to you! I swear on Papa's grave!"

Conar's breath caught in his throat.

Brelan could see his sudden pain. "Oh, my G.o.d, no one told you?"

Tears crept silently down Conar's cheek as his lips trembled.

"I'm sorry," Brelan whispered, his voice thick with misery. "I thought..."

"When?" Conar asked, his throat closing with grief.

"Right after your..." He stopped, unsure if he should tell Conar about his son, Corbin. "After Wyn left with Holm van de Lar." He saw immediate concern in his brother's eyes and rushed to rea.s.sure him. "Wyn's safe. He's with Holm. So are Coron and Dyllon, and their ladies are safe with Aunt Dyreil in Chrystallus."

Conar let out a wavering breath of relief. His throat was so sore, now, his head throbbing with blinding pain. He could see red blotches appearing on his arms. "Is my lady safe?"

Brelan nodded. How much should he tell Conar about Liza? He didn't know where to begin. Conar's words stopped him from even trying.

"I don't want to know anything else," he whispered.

"But-"

"Nothing else," he repeated, feeling the sedative claiming him.

"You can't hide from reality, Conar."

His right eye felt as though someone were stabbing a red-hot poker into it. He brought up the back of his right hand to wipe at it, wincing as the pain in his palm tore through his arm. "I just want to be left alone," he mumbled, his words beginning to slur.

The Healer came to stand beside them. "Let him sleep, now."

"You can't give up, Conar!" Brelan snarled, ignoring the Healer. "You can't just tuck your tail between your legs and slink away every time they come after you!"

"You don't understand," came the weary answer.

"Lord Saur, let your brother rest-"

"Is that what you've been doing all along, Conar. Letting them hurt you because you were too much a coward to fight back?"

Conar hurt all over now and, despite the sedative, he was getting sicker by the minute. He had difficulty focusing on Brelan's angry face. "I just can't do it anymore."

"Do what?"

"Fight them. They've knocked the fight out of me."

Brelan drew up his brother, ignoring the Healer's rush to the doorway to keep watch. "I won't accept that!" Brelan

said, cradling Conar against him. "You can fight and you will!" Conar forced his eyes to Brelan's. "What more do you want? I have nothing left. I can't do this alone anymore." "You won't have to! Youaren't alone! I'm here, now!" He dragged Conar into his embrace. "You will never be alone again!"

"Lydon Drake's heading this way!" Xander hissed.

Brelan saw the concern on the Healer's face and lowered Conar to the cot. "If I have them chain you inside my hut, do

you think you could stand it?"

Knowing what being chained would do to his fever-wracked body almost made Conar say no. Instead, he shrugged,

felt himself beginning to slip into unconsciousness. "I've stood it many times before." Brelan hesitated. "It'll have to be to the wall. I've seen manacle rings there-" "The Commandant wants to know how he is," came a voice from the doorway. Brelan spun around, his mouth set and grim. He eyed Drake with hatred. "Tell the Commandant I'll be along to give him a full report! Don't let me catch you anywhere near this prisoner. Do I make myself clear?" Lydon glared at the new Chief Warden. "Showing a little family support, Lord Saur?" "Get the h.e.l.l out of here, Drake, before I stakeyou out in the courtyard!" Drake smiled; his face was as evil as Brelan's was angry. "Whatever you say, Lord Saur." Later, when two of the friendlier guards dragged Conar's unconscious body to Brelan's hut and manacled him to the wall, no one asked the reason. It had never mattered before. It didn't matter now.

Chapter 9.

Six weeks pa.s.sed. Brelan sat morosely beside his window and stared in frustration at the rain that had come again. He wanted desperately to go to the medical hut, but knew his presence would cause a flurry of curious questions. His nervousness was fast drawing him to the very edge of a screaming fit.

"He'll be all right," Grice said. Brelan turned to the man he had called best friend for almost his entire life. "I hope you're right." Grice looked at the boots he was polishing as part of his job as valet to the now Chief Warden, Brelan Saur. "I hope I am, too." Thinking back to the morning after his talk with Conar, Brelan nearly groaned. He had gone to break his fast after a.s.suring himself Conar was still sleeping, but when he had been intercepted by Xander Hesar who was concerned for his patient's safety, Brelan went back inside with the man.

"I knew it!" the Healer had spat. "He's burning up with fever!" For almost three weeks, it didn't look as though Conar would survive this latest battle with the Labyrinthian Fever, that viral infection found only in the barren wilderness of the penal colony. Fiery convulsions alternated with bone-shattering chills and white-hot delirium. Conar's words, when he could speak, were a jumble of half-formed phrases and whimpers, and had cut through Brelan like daggers.

"He knew he was ill," Brelan said, looking to Grice for understanding. "He knew when he allowed me to chain him to the d.a.m.n wall! Why did he let me?" "He thought he was protecting you." "From what?" "Yourself." Grice looked up. "If you'd known how ill he was going to be, you'd have tried to keep him with Xander. What do you think the Commandant would have thought?"

"I don't give a rat's a.s.s-"

"But Conar did. If you expect to see your plans through to the end, you'd best keep in mind who and what you're supposed to be, Lord Saur."

Brelan drew in a harsh breath between his gritted teeth. "I need someone to be close to him, someone I trust." "Sentian is the ideal choice," Grice grumbled, obviously still disliking the man. "I can't put him near Conar; he's already shown too much loyalty." "Me?" Grice offered. "Why you?" "He's as much my brother as he is yours." Brelan nodded. "There was a time-" "When we were not as we are now," Grice finished. He looked over the compound. "Nor was he what he is now." Brelan understood all too well what that meant. "What happens to him when we go back,?" "What do you mean?" "She's no longer his." Grice lowered his eyes. "She will always belong to him." Brelan flinched and wanted to change the subject. "I suppose the Necroman would be the best choice. Two outcasts thrown together shouldn't bother the Commandant that much." "Shalu really cares for Conar." Grice spat on the toe of the boot he was holding and buffed it with his polishing cloth. "Well, we need someone who will watch out for him, who'll see he doesn't get caught away from camp with that son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h Drake!" "Lord Saur?" came a heavily accented voice from outside the door. Both men jumped, reflexively wondering who might have overheard their conversation. Brelan hurried to the door, relieved to see one of the two men who had accompanied him to the Labyrinth standing on the porch. The older man, a sailor by trade, grinned up at Brelan. "Scared you, did I, boyo?"

Brelan sighed, ignoring the jibe. "What is it?"

"Best be careful like what you be saying." Korbit chuckled.

"I asked what you wanted?" Brelan snarled, stung by the man's warning.

"He's awake and calling for you," the old man said, then turned to spit a brown stream of tobacco over the porch railing. "Healer says he's pretty insistent about who he wants to speak to." The man hitched up his tattered breeches and sniffed. "Reckon you'd best be moseying over there to quiet the lad 'fore someone who ought not to hears him." He dug his hands into the pockets, then ambled off the porch as though he hadn't a care in the world.

Brelan frowned. Holm van de Lar had all the confidence in the world in Korbit, but Brelan found the man slovenly and lazy. He glanced at Grice.