Aurian

27 Revelations — and Betrayal

Anvar’s captors bound his hands tightly behind him, with cords that cut painfully into his wrists. The soldiers were far from gentle, leaving him with a new set of bruises to replace the ones that the Mage had Healed, but Anvar had more to concern him than his growing discomfort. What had they done with Aurian? How badly was she hurt? Were these the Prince’s guards? Had he repented of his hosp’i-tality? Why had he tried to attack them back at the slave camp? The Mage had had no time to explain. Anvar wished she had been able to finish her tale. As it was, he had no idea what was happening. But he had time enough to worry about it. They left him in Aurian’s chambers, guarded by two grim-faced, taciturn soldiers, and there he remained for over an hour, with only his fears for company.

Xiang swept regally into Harihn’s audience chamber, arm in arm with his Khisihn, and surrounded by an entourage of guards. Seating himself in the Prince’s gilded chair, he motioned for someone to fetch a seat for Sara as the captain of his guard approached with a deep bow, and began to make his report. ^

“The palace has been secured, Your Majesty. The Khisal is in our custody, and his sorceress has been disabled by our bowmen. We have her below in the dungeons, unconscious, but under heavy guard.”

“Well done.” Xiang smiled his approval. “You have captured the Demon?”

The captain nodded. “Indeed, Sire. It cost us several men to overcome it, but we have it unharmed as you ordered. It too is imprisoned below, awaiting transport to the Arena.”

“Excellent! And the slave?”

“My men are bringing him now, Your Majesty.”

“Very well. You may bring in the Khisal, also.”

The Khisu settled back in his son’s chair, smiling triumphantly. As soon as the message from his Slavemaster had reached him by carrier bird, he had put his plans into action. Harihn had overplayed his hand this time! What a fool the boy was, to free the sorceress from the bracelets, and allow her to practice her evil arts before witnesses! And all to save the slave who, according to the Khisihn Sara, had kidnapped her from her native land. It had all been part of some plot to overthrow him, Xiang had no doubt. Harihn was in league with the two foreigners, but he had underestimated his father, and now he would pay! For releasing the sorceress, he had put himself under automatic sentence of death. Xiang wondered whether to keep his son alive for a while, to suffer the terror of the threat hanging over him. The sorceress, of course, would be executed as soon as possible. Unfettered, she was too much of a threat to be left alive.

There was a stir at the doors of the chamber, and the guards dragged Harihn into the room and cast him, white-faced and trembling, at the Khisu’s feet. Xiang smiled with cruel enjoyment, savoring the terror in his son’s eyes.

At last the soldiers came for him. Dragging Anvar through a long series of corridors, they thrust him between a pair of huge doors inlaid with bronze. The vast, high-ceilinged room beyond seemed filled with soldiers. The young man that Aurian had identified as Harihn was cowering before a man enthroned on the low platform. If Harihn was the Prince—this could only be the King!

Then all thoughts fled from Anvar’s mind at the sight of the golden-haired figure seated to one side of the throne, regal and resplendent in jewels and fine silken robes. “Sara!” he shouted joyfully. He struggled to reach her, but the guards held him fast. The cold aloofness of Sara’s demeanor did not waver as Anvar was hurled to the floor by the Prince’s side. With his hands bound behind him, he was unable to save himself, and his forehead cracked against the marble floor. As he staggered to his knees, blinking to clear the exploding lights that obscured his vision, the King began to speak, addressing Harihn.

“Well met, my son,” Xiang said, sneering. His eyes gleamed with triumph. “I am informed that you have laid yourself open to a charge^efe treason, by releasing a known sorceress from the bonds that constrained her power, against the laws of this land. What answer do you make to this charge?”

Anvar managed a sidelong glance at the Prince and saw the young man’s face contort with shock and panic. “No!” he howled. “It isn’t true! I did not release her! She escaped from the bonds herself—”

“You lie.” The Khisu’s voice cut through his son’s terrified protestations, and Anvar saw sweat break out on Harihn’s forehead. “Furthermore,” Xiang went on, “you have stolen one of my slaves—a rare specimen from the Northlands. My Khisihn has told me that this creature was responsible for kidnapping her from her home, in league with your sorceress. I can only assume that you are consorting with the Khisihn’s enemies for one reason—to bring about her overthrow, and mine.” He turned to Sara. “Is this the slave, my Queen?”

The words hit Anvar like a death blow. “Queen!” he shouted, too horrified to consider the consequences. One of the guards hit him hard across the mouth. “Silence!” he roared. Anvar went sprawling, tasting blood in his bruised mouth.

Sara’s gaze flicked contemptuously over her former lover. “That’s the one,” she said coolly.

“Very well,” Xiang replied. “What shall we do with him, beloved? The choice of his punishment shall be yours.” Sara shrugged. “Kill him,” she said offhandedly. Anvar went cold all over, numb with shock at her words. He could not, would notjpelieve that she had so callously ordered his death.

“Wait!” Harihn cried. “The slave is mine!” “What did you say?” Xiang’s voice was grating and cold as a knife against stone.

“Your informant lied, Your Majesty,” Harihn said. “I own the slave.” Tearing an arm free from the grip of the guards, he produced a crumpled parchment—the deed of ownership for a slave. “I bought him from your Slavemaster with good gold, not three hours ago—and with good reason.”

“You have already been condemned as a traitor,” the Khisu snapped. “Your ownership counts for nothing!”

“Father, hear me out,” Harihn shouted, his voice cracking with strain. “I did this for your benefit! This slave is the living proof that your Khisihn has betrayed you, and must die! She is his concubine!”

Anvar gasped.

“No!” Sara shrieked. “He’s lying!”

“Silence!” the Khisu roared. His face was livid. “Now,” he growled at his son, “I will have the truth of this, before I end your miserable life. Where did you get such a preposterous tale?”

Harihn trembled as he faced his father. “From Aurian— the sorceress. Did you not think it strange that the Khisihn wanted her death so badly when she fought in the Arena? It was because she knew the truth—as well she ought. This man is her husband.”

Anvar, already reeling from the revelations of the day, was stunned. Aurian had told Harihn he was her husband? Why had she lied to the Prince?

The sound of the Khisihn’s mocking laughter echoed shrilly through the room. “She said he was her husband?”

“You deny it?” Harihn suddenly seemed less sure of himself.

“Of course,” Sara replied calmly. “She lied to spare herself a traitor’s death. This man is not her husband—he is her servant, her accomplice in my kidnapping. Do you think I, the Khisihn, would lower myself to lie with a mere servant?”

The scorn in Sara’s voice went like a knife through Anvar’s heart, and he missed the look of shock and outrage on Harihn’s face. He steeled himself against the pain, telling himself that she didn’t mean it—that she was at the Khisu’s mercy, and only trying to save herself.

The Khisu turned his glowering gaze on Anvar, and spoke ro him in the Northern tongue. “Well, slave? What say you? On the one hand, my son says that the Khisihn is your concubine. She, however, accuses you of being her kidnapper. Weigh well your reply, for lives depend on it—including your own miserable existence!”

Anvar hesitated, so confused by this tangle of betrayal and lies that he didn’t know what to say. If he supported Sara’s story, it would mean his own death, not to mention Aurian’s and the Prince’s. On the^other hand, Sara’s life was at stake . . . He wavered, trapped in the dilemma, only knowing half the facts and unable to make a choice.

“See?” Sara shrilled triumphantly. “He can’t say I’m lying! He’s only keeping silent to protect his mistress! My Lord, be- j lieve me. I would never betray you! But your son would— \ indeed, he already has, by conspiring with the sorceress against both of us!”

A look of relief crossed the Khisu’s face, and he smiled at his Queen. “You are wise as you are beautiful, beloved. How could I doubt you?” He gestured to his guards. “Kill these traitors. Then I will deal with their sorceress.”

Darkness. A cold, damp floor beneath her. Agony in her right shoulder, spreading fire down her arm and side. Nausea clutching at her throat. Aurian caught her breath against a moan. There must be guards about. Better if they believed she was still unconscious. No one could see her in this black hole— not without Mages’ sight. She had recognized the livery of Xiang’s soldiers, and could hazard a fair guess at what must have happened. Aurian lay very still, facedown on the hard stone floor where she had been carelessly tumbled. With her extra Healer’s sense, she checked first on the child within her. To her relief, all seemed well. The mite must be hardy indeed to survive all that had recently been happening to its mother.

Mother. It was the first time she had used the word, even in her thoughts. Despite her pain and discomfort, despite her peril, Aurian’s lips curved in a smile. She had accepted the child at last, and her love and pride for this tough little survivor heartened her considerably. It was taking after its indomitable father, she decided, and the thought of Forral strengthened her resolve. She turned her attention to the wound on her shoulder, and began to control the searing pain. Without that to impede her concentration, Aurian set about repairing the damage. She would be needing to use that arm, her sword arm, she thought grimly.

It was more difficult than she had expected. Aurian had never tried to Heal herself, but she knew from her lessons with Meiriel that there was considerable risk involved. Healing took a great deal of energy; partly from the Healer, but partly from the patient. That was why magical Healing was so debilitating to both parties. In Healing herself, she had only her own strength to draw on, and she knew that unless she was very careful, she stood in grave danger of burning herself out completely, and killing herself. There were precedents. But oh, it was difficult to school herself to patience, to proceed with care, stopping frequently to rest. Aurian was keenly aware that time was very much against her. What was happening up above? How long had she been unconscious? Not long, she comforted herself. The blood from her wound had still been fresh and flowing. But Harihn had said that his father sought his death, and if Sara was involved, Anvar’s chances of survival were slim. Forcing herself not to think about it, Aurian returned to her work. It was her only chance of helping them. Step by step, working as fast as she dared, she set the damage to rights, painstakingly reconstructing the torn flesh and muscles, knowing that a mistake made in haste could cripple her arm for good.

Done at last! Aurian moved the wounded arm and shoulder experimentally, wishing she had time to rest the repaired tissue. Never mind. It would do. Not quite as good as new yet, but it would serve her purpose, and improve with time. But there was no doubt that the work had taken its toll. She felt limp with exhaustion, only wanting to lie where she was on this filthy, freezing floor and sleep until her body had recovered itself. Well, no chance of that. Mindful of the risks of overtaxing herself and being unable to return to her body, Aurian extended her consciousness carefully outward, Peeking the sparks of human awareness that would mean guards.

She had gone no distance—no distance at all—when Aurian encountered a set of thoughts that made her heart leap with joy. Shia! The great cat was imprisoned in the next cell!

Shia’s thoughts were scorching with fury. “There were too many of them! They used nets!”

Aurian could feel her friend’s pain as she struggled against the entangling bonds. “Patience,” she soothed her. “I’ll get you free—only stay still, and don’t attract attention.”

“Very well,” Shia grumbled reluctantly. “But when you do —those men are my meat!”

Aurian had no quarrel with that.

Now—how to gee out of the cell? The Mage regretted that her powers had been weakened by the Healing. Impelled by her growing sense of urgency, she’d have liked nothing better than to demolish the heavy door in a single blast! However . . . Again, she sought for the guards. Ah. Over a dozen of them, but in true mercenary style they were all congregated in the guardroom on the upper level, away from the damp, noisome chill of the dungeons. There was only one on this floor, stationed at the bend in the passage by the foot of the stairs, ready to give the alarm if anything stirred. Even better, she could sense the angry, frightened presence of other captives—a good number—occupying other cells farther down the passage. She fervently hoped they were Harihn’s guards, imprisoned down here ouc of che way.

Aurian crept to the door of her cell. Instead of blasting it, which was not only physically impossible for her at this time, but would bring all Xiang’s guards down on her, and possibly the low ceiling as well, she turned her remaining power to manipulating the lock, feeling for the worn, stiff tumblers with her Healer’s senses much as she would probe a wound for damage. Ah. Pressure here—and there. The Mage gathered her will and—pushed.

The rusty lock grated open. Aurian froze, her body tensed for combat. Had the guard heard? Apparently not. Disgust at his inattention warred with her relief. Forral would not have tolerated such laxity! Opening the door only enough to squeeze herself through, lest the rusty old hinges betray her with their squeak, Aurian sidled afohg the low, arched passage on silent feet, suppressing a wish for her warrior’s clothing. Not only would this thin robe be awkward in a fight, but it was useless against the piercing cold of the dungeons, which was already stiffening her muscles and eating its way into her very bones.

Aurian could see the profile of the guard silhouetted against the yellow torchlight at the bottom of the stairwell. The fool’s eyes were turned away from her to look longingly up the steps toward the warm guardroom, instead of down the corridor he was meant to be guarding. Serves you right! Aurian thought, as her arm went around his throat in the quick, lethal throttling hold that Maya had taught her so long ago. But she had never killed with her bare hands before, and was unable to suppress her shudders as he slid soundlessly to the floor, his windpipe crushed and eyes staring wide with shock. Clenching her teeth, the Mage quickly rifled the still twitching corpse for sword, knife, and keys, trying to avoid the accusing stare of those horrid eyes. Then she ran, as quickly as she could, back down the corridor to Shia’s cell, feeling keen relief at leaving her grisly handiwork behind.

As Aurian sliced through her restraining bonds, the great cat exploded into motion like an uncoiling spring—and fell heavily to her side, her numb limbs refusing to support her. “Shh!” Aurian warned, and knelt to rub the cold legs and paws. Though curses seemed not to be a part of the cat’s mental vocabulary, Shia’s tirade of low, spitting snarls sounded so much like a stream of human invective that the Mage had to smile. “Listen,” she told her friend, “once you’re on your feet, go to the bottom of the stairs and guard this corridor. Wait for me there, while I free the other prisoners.”

“Those men?” Shia’s eyes blazed with a savage light.

“Not those men,” Aurian said firmly. “Once I’ve freed the good men, we’ll deal with the bad ones, I promise.”

“What good men?” Shia sulked.

“Trust me.” With a hug, Aurian sent her out, taking the opposite direction herself, toward the other cells.

A low, nervous murmur of voices betrayed the presence of the men occupying the cell. “Who’s within?” Aurian called softly, and the sound ceased abruptly.

“Yazour, captain of the Khisal’s guard. Who are_yo«?” The voice was young, but firm and strong,-despite the fact that the owner was imprisoned to await the dubious mercy of his cruel king.

“The Lady Aurian, the Khisal’s sorceress,” Aurian whispered back. At her words, a frightened muttering broke out among the men in the cell, and she heard Yazour hushing them hastily. “Lady, can you release us? His Highness has dire need of our help.”

Wasting no time, Aurian opened the door, struggling a little with the heavy lock. She belatedly remembered that the men would be unable to see in the dark passage, and spotting a burnt-out stump of torch affixed to a bracket on the wall, she lighted it with a careless wave of her hand.

“How did you . ^—.-iLady, that is forbidden,” a stern voice chided her. The captain of the guard, recognizable by his shoulder insignia, stood before her, his brows knotted in a disapproving frown.

“If you want to save the Khisal, this is no time to be particular,” Aurian said flatly, approving the way that he accepted her words with a brusque nod. Taking the bunch of keys from the lock, he sent one of his men along the passage to open the other cells. A practical man, then. Like his Prince, he seemed young for his responsibilities. There was no gray in the long black hair that was tied neatly back from his face, but his stern demeanor and the honest, level gaze of his dark eyes promised to Aurian a fund of courage and common sense. She had no time to register more, for at that moment a hulking figure thrust to the front of the soldiers, elbowing them effortlessly aside.

“Bohan! Thank the Gods you’re all right!” Aurian reached up on tiptoe to hug him, and saw his face break into an astonished but delighted smile. Sword cuts on his body and bruises on his arms and face showed that he had sold his freedom dearly, but his strength seemed undiminished as he returned her hug with bone-cracking force.

“Someone comes!” Shia’s warning thought rang clearly in Aurian’s mind.

“Deal with him,” she told the cat. “Quietly, if you can.” “My pleasure!”

There was the sound of a scuffle along the passage, then silence. “What was that?” Yazour demanded sharply.

“My friend the Demon from the Arena, dealing with one of Xiang’s guards. You had better warn your men that she’s on our side!”

“By the Reaper!” Yazour muttered, his eyes very wide. The struggle in the guardroom was bloody, but brief. Aurian sent Shia in first, and the cat erupted into the room in a whirlwind of teeth and claws, wreaking havoc among Xiang’s horrified soldiers. Aurian followed with Yazour and his men, the latter arming themselves quickly from fallen bodies, or weapons stored within the room. Then they began to work their way up through the corridors of the palace, fanning out as they went to deal mercilessly with any enemy that they encountered along the way. It was vital that no one remained alive to carry word to Xiang. At last they reached the main levels, and the long hallway that led to the audience chamber, and discovered why they had met with so little opposition thus far. The corridor was bristling with guards. “Xiang must be within,” Yazour whispered to the Mage, after a quick glance around the corner.

“Now what? We’ll never get through that lot without them raising the alarm,” Aurian said, groaning. Weary as she was, it was easy to feel discouraged. She was sickened by the bloodshed that had already occurred, and was finding the great curved scimitar with which she had armed herself difficult and awkward to handle after being used to the straight, two-sided blades favored by her own people. It was no easy matter to learn an entirely new technique when your life was at stake.

Bohan tugged urgently at her arm, pointing back the way they had come. Aurian frowned, trying to decipher his gestures. “You mean there’s another way in?” she asked him. The mute nodded vigorously.

“Of course!” Yazour muttered. “The kitchens! A passage leads to the back of the audience chamber, so that food can be brought there easily.”

Swiftly they made their plans. Aurian, with Bohan, Shia, and a small group of soldiers, would take the back rout£ and storm the chamber. Yazour and his men, when they heard her signal, would mount a frontal attack on the guards at the doors. Aurian quickly assembled her party and they slipped away, with Bohan leading.

In the kitchens, the terrified servants were being held by some half-dozen of the Khisu’s guards. If Aurian had expected any help from them, she was quickly cured of the notion. As soon as the fighting started, they took the opportunity to flee, keeping the widest possible distance between themselves and the tall, flame-haired warrior and her ferocious Demon. Occupied as she was with two soldiers who were bent on hacking her to pieces, the Mage could only hope they wouldn’t flee toward the throne room and give the game away. Panting, she backed toward the door, defending herself as best she could with the clumsy scimitar. Then the looming figure of Bohan appeared behind her assailants, and a great hand closed around each of their necks. Shia moved in to finish them, her claws ripping through flesh and guts. “This is fun!” she told Aurian.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Aurian replied faintly, taking a much-needed minute to catch her breath. The place looked like a charnel house, and the ridiculous, flimsy robe in which Harihn had clad her was drenched with blood. The Mage made a quick tally of corpses. Good. All the enemy dead—and two of their own, she realized sadly. “Come on,” she summoned her remaining men, and they followed Bohan through the low doorway that had been hidden in the shadows of an alcove at the back of the kitchen.

There was no door at the far end of the passage—the flight of steps up to the throne room ended in an archway, screened by a hanging curtain. Carefully, Aurian moved it aside, just enough to peer through a small crack. She was almost directly behind the throne, and could see Harihn nearby, held firmly between two guards and looking sick with fear. She need not have worried about being noticed, for the eyes of everyone in the room were fixed on the clear space at Xiang’s feet. Anvar knelt there, bound, his eyes tightly closed, his face bloodless with terror. Over him stood a black-clad figure with an upraised sword, and—

“Now!” Aurian yelled. Shia sprang past her, reaching the Khisu in a single leap and crushing him to the floor beneath her as her powerful jaws closed around his throat.

“Drop your weapons! Nobody move, or the Khisu dies!” Aurian shouted. She heard the sound of savage fighting outside as Yazour and his men wejtf into action, and beckoned her own troops into the room to pick up the fallen weapons of Xiang’s guards. Though she wanted to go to Anvar, she stepped up instead beside the stunned Prince and bowed, catching sight as she did so of Yazour, who appeared briefly in the main doorway to signal that all was well. “Your Highness,” Aurian said clearly. “Today you declined the use of magic to win your throne. Now I offer it again—through Mortal means. Only say the word, and you are Khisu.”

Harihn stared at her for a moment, trying to take in the sudden change in events. She nodded affirmation and the Prince, with a sudden smile, walked across to his father. Aurian followed him. Xiang’s face was contorted with terror. All the cruelty of his expression seemed to have transferred itself to the face of his son, and the Mage was dismayed by what she had wrought.

“Well, my father,” Harihn said. “How does it feel to be the victim? My mother would have enjoyed seeing you thus!”

“My son, I beg you—” Xiang, in his terror, had lost control of his bladder, and a dark stain began to spread across the floor. “Please—”

It was plain to Aurian how much that word had cost him.

“Begging, Father?” Harihn’s eyes glittered. “Oh, I like this. Beg some more.”

“My son . . . Please—I’ll do anything—”

Harihn turned away in disgust. “No!” It was as though the word had been wrenched from the depths of his soul. Getting his voice under control with an effort, he turned to face his watchers. “I do not want the throne,” he said flatly. “Today I have learned all too well how power corrupts. The power of sorcery.” His gaze flicked coldly towards Aurian. “Royal power.” He glanced scornfully at his father, then across to Sara. “And the power of one man over another.” He looked down at the crumpled scroll of Anvar’s ownership that was crushed in his fist. “Father, you may keep your throne and your life—if you swear that me and mine will be allowed to leave this land in safety. You have no need to worry, I will not be coming back —ever. Do you agree, and will you swear to this?”

The Khisu nodded—too quickly, Aurian thought. She had seen the flicker of contempt in his eyes. “You have my word,” he said.

“Release him,” Harihn ordered.

“Wait.” Aurian, still staggered by Harihn’s refusal of the throne, placed herself within the Khisu’s sight.

“Xiang,” she said, “I have no confidence whatever that you will keep your word.” His gaze slid uneasily away from hers, and she knew she had been right. Thinking quickly, the Mage assumed the most menacing expression she could manage. “In order to guarantee the Khisal’s safety, I place my curse on you, and all the people of your land.” She heard gasps of horror from behind her.

“What are you doing?” Harihn shrieked at her.

“Only this. While the Khisu keeps his vow, all shall be spared. But if he shoulc}J>jeak it, then his entire kingdom will be consumed in fire, and his people also. Crops will burn in the fields. Eyes will shrivel, and flesh will melt. All shall perish in agony. Do you hear me, Xiang?”

“I hear.” His voice dripped hatred.

“Then mark them well—lest what I say should come to pass.”

The Khisu nodded, glaring at her—but she knew that she had him well and truly frightened now. “Oh, and another thing,” she could not resist adding. “I’ve decided that you must become a better ruler in the future. There will be no more cruel games, Xiang. The Arena will be closed at once, and all the slaves will be freed immediately.”

“What?” Xiang roared, forgetting, in his rage, the peril of his position. At a nod from Aurian, Shia tightened her jaws a fraction, snarling. The Khisu choked, and lapsed back into a sullen silence.

“I’ll be watching, Xiang,” Aurian lied. “No matter how for away I am. Remember, the curse is merely postponed. If you break your vow, it will fall upon you! Let him up, Shia,” she added aloud, for the benefit of the watchers. “He has work to do. Get out, Xiang, and take your soldiers with you. See them off the premises, Shia.”

“You mean I don’t get to kill him?” Shia’s thought was petulant.

“I’m afraid not.”

“It’s not fair!” The-cat loosened her jaws reluctantly, her blazing eyes never leaving the Khisu’s face. One of Xiang’s guards, though quaking at the proximity of the Black Demon and the Outland Sorceress, went to help him rise from the wreckage of his chair. A brave man, Aurian thought.

Sara, who had remained silent while the conflict unfolded, rose to follow him, shooting a glare of venomous hatred at Aurian. But Bohan had freed Anvar from his bonds, and he waylaid her, his eyes beseeching. “Sara, wait. You don’t have to go with him. You’re free now. You can come with us . . .” His voice shook with the strain of still hoping to find her innocent in the face of all he had witnessed. Gods, can he not accept it now? Aurian thought despairingly.

Sara turned on Anvar with a look of utter scorn. “You fool,” she said, sneering. “Do you really think I’d go with you, a mere servant—a slave—when I can be a Queen?”

Anvar flinched as though she had struck him. “So,” he said softly, “I was right not to trust you! You were lying when you said you still loved me!”

Sara’s laugh rang out, loud and brittle, cruelly mocking. “And you believed me, you dolt! I knew you would! I planned it that way—because it was expedient, and to pay you back for abandoning me to a butchering midwife and that toad of a merchant. Come with you, indeed! You’re pathetic, Anvar. Go and crawl behind the skirts of your mistress—she appreciates you! As for me, I’ll despise you until the day I die!”

Anvar’s eyes hardened to the chill ice-blue of a winter sky. “Wait!” The word cracked out, harsh and commanding. Sara turned slowly, unwillingly, gaping in astonishment.

“Bad mistake, Sara.” Anvar’s tone was coldly mocking. “In your arrogance, you seem to have forgotten one important detail. Xiang no longer has an heir—and he’ll be looking to you to get him another!”

Sara’s fate blanched to a ghastly greenish-’white. All at once, she began to tremble, seeming to shrink in on herself, her haughty demeanor vanished. Suddenly she bit her lip, held out her hands beseechingly. “Anvar, I—”

“No, Sara, not this time. Not ever again. You got your wish, and it’s up to you to deal with it.” Anvar’s voice was like steel. “Get out, Sara. Go to the King you wanted so much. Start thinking of a way to dupe him, as you duped Vannor and I— only you had better hurry!”

Sara’s face turned ugly with rage. Drawing back like a snake, she spat into his face, then turned, in a swirl of golden skirts, to follow Xiang. As she scurried out, Anvar sank to his knees, his face a mask of grief. Aurian had been both baffled and amazed by his exchange with the girl—but she knew that now was not the time to ask. Instead, she hurried to comfort him, her heart wrenched by the bleak emptiness in his eyes. Anvar tore himself away from her touch. “Please,” he said wretchedly, “leave me alone.” He turned away from her, hiding his face in his hands. Aurian retreated, respecting his mood. When he had repudiated Sara, she had almost burst with pride for him—but she knew how much it had cost him. She sat down beside him on the floor, feeling drained by all that had happened.

The Mage felt a hand on her shoulder. “Aurian!” Harihn stood over her, his expression matching the chill in his voice.

“What?” she sighed, and got to her feet feeling grievously ill-used. Considering that she had just saved his life, he seemed scarcely overcome with gratitude!

Harihn’s fists were clenched, his face scarlet with rage. “Lying bitch! Thanks to your machinations, I’ve lost a throne today!” he stormed. “You ungrateful snake! How dare you deceive me into thinking this lowly slave was your husband?”

Aurian gasped. How had he found out?

“By the Reaper, you’ll suffer for this!” Harihn reached out to seize her, one hand uplifted to strike.

“Leave her alone!” Anvar stepped between them. “She did not lie to you, Your Highness. I am her husband.”

“What!” Harihn choked. “You mean . . . You mean it’s truer

Aurian’s astonishment was no less acute. In wondering gratitude, she sought Anvar’s eyes. He put a possessive arm round her shoulders.

“Of course it’s true,” Anvar told the Prince. “Sara lied to everyone. Did you expect her to tell Xiang she had betrayed him? Furthermore, Aurian did not lose you the throne—she offered it to you, and you turned it down! I think you owe my Lady an apology—and your thanks for saving your life.”

The Prince looked utterly deflated. “I—I beg your pardon,” he muttered, his eyes downcast. “I should have known,” he said at last. “The mere fact that you can speak our language as she can . . . Does this mean that you are also a sorcerer?” Aurian gasped. So much had been happening, it had never occurred to her to wonder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anvar turn pale.

“No,” Anvar said hastily, “and I don’t know why I can speak your tongue. I think the Lady may have passed on the talent with the spell that she used to bring me back from death . . . But what will you do now, Highness? Aurian may have frightened your father for the time being, but we can’t expect it to last!”

Aurian gave him a questioning look, but he was studiously avoiding her eye. She frowned. Why had he changed the subject so quickly? Yet . . . Anvar was no Mage! Surely his explanation could be the only possible one?

Harihn was looking at her. “Will you really smite the Khazalim with your curse, sorceress?” he blurted out, fear behind his words. “I have relinquished the throne, but these are still my people. If—if my father had refused to agree, would you really have destroyed them?”

“Bless you, no!” Aurian said. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. But Xiang didn’t know that.” She gave him a wicked grin.

The Prince looked astonished, then relief flooded his face. He burst out laughing. “Why, you . . . You are absolutely outrageous!”

“That’s what I’m always telling her,” Anvar said with a shrug, “but what can I do?”

“Take my advice, and beat her more often. She has a habit of taking control of events that is most unbecoming in a mere woman!”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Anvar growled, ignoring Aurian’s indignant glare. She was even more infuriated when the Prince took him completely seriously.

“Very well,” Harihn said. “I have much to attend to, if we are to leave before nightfall. I believe I will travel north. My mother’s people may take me in—if we get through the land of the Skyfolk. You will come with me, will you not? You will never get across the desert alone.”

“I think that suits us, don’t you, dear?” Anvar turned to Aurian, his eyes glinting, and she realized that he was paying her back for the lie that she had told about him.

“Of course, dear,” she replied sweetly, restraining an urge to kick him. Inwardly, however, she was relieved. Now that she had found Anvar and regained her powers, she could not afford to waste more time in these lands. But she needed Harihn’s help a little longer, and was uncomfortably aware that her debt to him remained unsettled.

When Harihn had gone, Aurian turned to Anvar. “Thank you for supporting me.”

He shrugged. “Jt .was the least I could do. I suppose you had your reasons for lying to the Prince?” There was an edge of disapproval in his voice.

“Of course I did! Harihn decided to make me his concubine—that’s the law hereabouts for an unaccompanied woman. I was badly wounded in the Arena, and he saved my life. I was helpless, without my powers, and I needed Harihn’s help to find you. I was forced to lie. He left me no choice.”

Anvar scowled. “You mean ... I can’t believe it! Did he —did that bastard . . .” He was almost choking with rage.

Aurian laid a hand on his arm. “No,” she said gently. “He didn’t touch me, once I told him about you. I don’t believe he likes it, though!”

“Well, he had better get used to it—fast!” Aurian could not help but smile at Anvar’s fierce expression. “Thank you, Anvar,” she said, touched by his support. “But we must be careful. To get back north, we need Harihn’s help to cross the desert, but with his soldiers to back him, we’re very much outnumbered.”

“Oh Gods, what a situation! But—” Suddenly Anvar looked sick. “Does this mean that Sara was forced to—to . . .” Anvar, I’m sorry, Aurian thought. But for his sake, she had to be brutally frank. “You saw her today. You heard what she said. What Sara is doing is her own choice. I used Harihn to find you. She could have done that through Xiang, but she was too busy furthering her ambition. And if she’d had her way today, you would be dead by now. What sort of woman would do that to the man who loved her?”

Anvar shuddered, and his face grew stern and grim. “That’s what I thought,” he said.