The Dark-Eyes War

Chapter 10

Besh couldn't remember the last time he had slept so soundly. The Qirsi shelter, this z'kal, as the Fal'Borna called it, was remarkably effective in keeping out the cold and wind of the plain, and the pallet on which he lay was as comfortable as his bed back in Kirayde. For the first time in a turn, he had slept through the entire night, untroubled by visions of Lici and her plague. He would gladly have slumbered for another several hours, but Sirj had already left the shelter, and Besh could hear that others in the sept were up and about.

Reluctantly he threw off his blankets, pulled on his britches and shirt, and stepped out into the brisk morning air. Sirj sat on a stump of wood beside the shelter looking out over the sept.

"How long have you been up?" Besh asked, inhaling deeply and stretching his back.

"Not long. An hour, maybe."

Besh nodded. "Have you seen the Forelander?"

Sirj merely shook his head. Looking at him again, Besh realized that the younger man wasn't merely gazing out at the settlement. His eyes were alert and he wore a grim expression.

"What's the matter?" Besh asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Sirj said. "Try not to appear alarmed. But take a casual look around. It seems to me that we're being guarded, but they don't want us to know."

Besh nodded again. His pulse now was racing, and his stomach began to knot. He glanced about, trying to appear relaxed. It didn't take him long to see what Sirj meant. There were at least a dozen Fal'Borna warriors nearby, all of them with blades on their belts, several of them holding spears as well. Some of them were standing; others sat. But they had formed a loose ring around Besh and Sirj's shelter. There was no way for the Mettai to leave the area without encountering at least one of them.

The Qirsi didn't seem to be watching the two men, but there was something a bit too studied in their demeanor.

"Damn," Besh said under his breath. "You say that you haven't seen Grinsa?"

Sirj gave a quick shake of his head. "Not yet."

"What about Q'Daer?"

"Not him, either."

"Have any of them said anything to you?"

"They've barely even looked at me. I think they were told to keep watch on us, and that's all. But I don't like it. If they're watching us, that means they don't trust us. They're halfway to deciding that we're the enemy."

"Grinsa won't let that happen. We healed him, and Q'Daer, too. We made them immune to the plague."

"Yes. You killed Lici, too. They don't seem to care about any of that. And I don't think that Grinsa can help us much. He's not Fal'Borna."

"He's a Weaver," Besh said. But he knew that Sirj was right. From all he'd heard about the Fal'Borna, it seemed that they were distrustful of Qirsi from every other clan in the Southlands. He could only assume that they would be even more wary of outlanders. "All right," he said a moment later. "Let's assume Grinsa can't help us. What do we do?"

Sirj shook his head. "There's not much we can do. Even if Mettai magic was a match for Qirsi magic, we're only two against an entire sept." He looked up at Besh. "If they decide to make us their prisoners, or worse, if they decide to kill us, there's nothing we can do to stop them."

"Well, then," Besh said, taking a long breath, "we need to find out what their intentions are."

Sirj looked at him with alarm. "What are you going to do?"

"Nothing I hadn't been planning to do anyway," Besh told him, starting toward the heart of the settlement. He glanced back over his shoulder. "It's morning and I'm ready for my breakfast."

There were two Qirsi in front of him, both of them standing, both of them bearing spears. As soon as they saw him coming, they planted themselves in his path. They held their spears ready, but they didn't actually point the weapons at him.

Besh didn't break stride, but rather walked right up to the two men and stopped in front of them. He heard Sirj hurrying to catch up with him.

"Where are you going, Mettai?" one of the Fal'Borna asked him.

They were both young men, powerfully built, with golden eyes, long white hair, and bronze skin. Strange as they appeared to him, they were also beautiful and forbidding. It almost seemed to Besh that all Fal'Borna warriors resembled these two. Looking closer, he could see that the man who had spoken had a rounder, softer face than the other, and that his eyes were more widely spaced. But the differences were subtle. It was as if Qirsar himself had reached down and created these people in his own image.

"I was on my way to speak with my friend Grinsa," Besh told the men, offering his most disarming smile. "He and I have matters to discuss. And I have to admit that I'm also hoping he'll have a bit for me to eat."

The two men exchanged glances.

"Is there a problem?" Besh asked, looking from one of them to the other, as Sirj stopped beside him.

"You're to stay here," said the first man. "Both of you. We can have food brought to you."

Besh's smile faded. "I was led to believe that we're guests of your a'laq. Was I wrong? Are we in fact prisoners?"

"You're Mettai," the man said, as if that answered the question. "We're at war with your people. You are guests of the a'laq. If you weren't, you'd be dead by now."

"We were declared friends of the Fal'Borna by an a'laq named F'Ghara," Sirj said. "That must count for something."

Besh still carried F'Ghara's white stone in his pocket. He pulled it out now and held it up for the man to see.

The Fal'Borna cast a quick look at the necklace, but his expression didn't change at all. "I don't know anything about that," he said. "I was ordered to watch you, and to keep you here. The rest is up to the a'laq."

Besh turned to Sirj, who stared back at him bleakly. After a moment the younger man shrugged and shook his head.

The old man faced the warrior again. "I'd like to speak with your a'laq."

"The a'laq decides who he'll speak to. If he chooses to see you, you'll be summoned."

Besh felt himself growing angry. If this was what it meant to be a guest of the Fal'Borna, he would have hated to be their prisoner. But he knew that railing at this man would do no good, and that defying him might well get him killed, and Sirj, too.

"Food, then," he said thickly. "We'd like to eat. Please. And we'd like to speak with the Forelander."

The warrior nodded, then looked at his comrade, who turned and started toward a cluster of shelters. There was nothing for the two Mettai to do but make their way back to their shelter.

"This isn't going to end well," Sirj said under his breath as they walked. Besh merely nodded, knowing the younger man was right.

They think Besh and Sirj made it up?" Grinsa asked, hardly believing what Cresenne was telling him. She nodded, watching him. She looked pale and frightened and lovely.

She had found him wandering the empty grounds of the marketplace, where he'd gone after his conversation with E'Menua. Bryntelle was with the young Fal'Borna women who cared for the sept's children, and Cresenne had been at the tanning circle where she usually spent her days. He'd been surprised and pleased to see her, but that had quickly given way to alarm when she began to tell him what she'd heard. They had walked beyond the horse paddock, where they were unlikely to be disturbed. They gazed out over the plain as they spoke, holding hands once more. Even now, angry and afraid for the two Mettai, he couldn't be with Cresenne without touching her. They'd been apart for too long. It was almost as if he needed to assure himself that she was real, rather than a dream or some conjured illusion.

"Is it possible?" she asked after a lengthy silence. "I know you trust them, but you have no proof that their spell will protect us from the plague, do you?"

He looked at her, pained by the question. She shook her head and lifted his hand to her lips.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But F'Solya… she sounded so sure of herself. And she said that the only way to test the spell was to put our lives at risk, which is true."

"I'm alive," he said. "So is Q'Daer. That's my proof."

"Don't be mad at me. I was just… I don't know anything about these men except what you've told me. And most of what I've heard about the Mettai-the plague, their alliance with the Eandi-doesn't lead me to trust them. I know that they saved you, and for that I'll forever be in their debt, but if F'Solya can make me wonder about them, imagine how easy it will be for I'Joled and the others to convince the rest of the sept that they're our enemies."

She had a point. E'Menua had made clear that he wasn't ready to trust them; what F'Solya had said to Cresenne was quite similar to what E'Menua had told him. And he had to admit that he had doubts of his own. None of them had anything to do with Besh's and Sirj's motives. He trusted the two men completely. But Cresenne was right: How did they know that the spell had made Grinsa immune to another onset of Lici's plague? How did they know that he was able to pass that protection on to Cresenne and Bryntelle and the others?

"Grinsa?" she said, her forehead furrowed with concern. "Say something."

"There's not much I can say, except to admit that you're right. E'Menua voiced similar suspicions. Once the Fal'Borna have made up their minds about an enemy, there's very little chance of convincing them otherwise."

"But we have to try," she said. "Don't we?"

He looked her in the eye and smiled. "Yes. So let's start by convincing you."

"What do you mean?"

"Come with me. We'll go and speak with Besh and Sirj. Once you're convinced, maybe the four of us can think of some way to win over the others."

She smiled in return and they started back toward the settlement. As they neared the shelters, Grinsa changed directions, drawing a puzzled look from Cresenne.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"If we're going to have any chance of changing E'Menua's mind, we'll need Q'Daer's help. He should be part of this conversation."

She frowned deeply.

"You disagree?" Grinsa asked.

"No. But this sounded much more pleasant when it was just going to be the four of us."

Grinsa laughed. "Well, I can't argue with that."

Q'Daer and L'Norr were still outside the a'laq's shelter. L'Norr's face colored slightly at the sight of Cresenne, but he said nothing.

"Can we have a word with you?" Grinsa asked Q'Daer, taking care to keep his voice low.

Q'Daer looked sidelong at the entrance to E'Menua's z'kal, as if the a'laq were standing right there. After a moment, he nodded. He climbed to his feet and followed them a short distance from the shelter.

Before Grinsa could say anything, Q'Daer told him, "The Mettai wish to speak with you."

"Did they tell you what it was about?"

Q'Daer shook his head. "I didn't see them. One of their guards came to me and asked where he might find you."

A chill went through Grinsa's body. "One of their guards?" he repeated. "They're being held prisoner?"

Q'Daer's expression soured. "They're being watched, Forelander. And before you say anything more, you should ask yourself if you have any reason to be surprised by this. I tried to tell you that the Mettai didn't belong here. We should have sent them back to their lands when we had the chance. Now…" He looked away, shaking his head.

"Now, what?" Grinsa demanded.

"It doesn't matter. What is it you want to discuss with me?"

"This!" Grinsa said. "We came to you to talk about the Mettai. There are people saying that they can't be trusted, that their spell hasn't done anything to protect us, and that they're the enemy."

Q'Daer didn't look at him, and for a moment Grinsa thought he'd refuse to talk to them and walk away. But then the young Weaver nodded once. "I've heard talk of this."

"And have you told people that they're wrong? Have you explained that Besh and Sirj saved our lives?"

At that Q'Daer met his gaze. "No, I haven't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not exactly sure what happened that night. I know how it seemed at the time. To both of us. But those who say that it all worked out too well for them may have a point."

Grinsa wanted to scream. Could Fal'Borna distrust of all Eandi truly run so deep? But he held his temper in check. Q'Daer hadn't said that he agreed with I'Joled and the others. He had merely admitted to having his doubts. So Grinsa started with the simplest elements of the events on the plain that led to their illness.

"Do you believe that they sickened us?"

The Fal'Borna twisted his mouth, looking like a small boy. "No," he finally said. "I believe Torgan did that, just as I believe that he killed the other merchant."

"Do you believe that Torgan was working with them?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't believe that, either."

"Then you don't believe that Besh and Sirj meant to do us harm."

"I suppose not," he said, grudgingly.

"And you can't deny that they healed us."

"I said only that the others had a point!" Q'Daer told him. "You don't need to speak to me like I'm a fool."

"That's not what I'm doing, Q'Daer. I'm trying to figure out what you believe and what you don't. And it sounds to me like you don't think the Mettai are enemies of… of our people, but you're also not certain their spell actually has made us immune to the witch's curse. Is that right?"

The Fal'Borna was scowling again. It seemed to Grinsa that his face didn't relax into a smile as most people's did, but that this was his most natural look. He nodded once more. "Yes, that's about right."

"Come with us, then. Cresenne and I were on our way to speak with Besh and Sirj. The three of us are their only friends right now."

"I'm not their friend," Q'Daer said quickly.

Grinsa took Cresenne's hand and the two of them started walking in the direction of the Mettai's z'kal.

"You don't believe they want to kill us," he said over his shoulder. "Right now, that makes you as good a friend as they have among the Fal'Borna."

He hoped that Q'Daer would follow, but wasn't certain he would until he looked back and saw the young Weaver walking behind them, muttering to himself, his eyes trained on the ground.

Grinsa noticed the guards well before they reached Besh and Sirj. At first he saw only the two directly in front of them. But as he started looking for them, he spotted several more. They were keeping their distance from the Mettai, but they were there just the same, and he had no doubt that Besh and Sirj had noticed them.

The two Mettai were sitting on the ground in front of their shelter, eating. Besh saw Grinsa first and quickly got to his feet. Sirj did the same.

"Are you both all right?" Grinsa asked as he, Cresenne, and Q'Daer drew near to the two men.

"We're prisoners," Besh said flatly.

"You're guests of the a'laq," Q'Daer told him, before Grinsa could respond.

Besh glared at him. "I don't know what that means. We're being watched by armed guards. We're surrounded by them. That I understand."

"Do you understand as well that your people and mine are at war? Do you understand that we're under attack by Eandi and Mettai alike? How do you expect to be treated?"

"Like the men who saved your life," Besh said, his voice as cold and hard as Grinsa had ever heard it.

The last thing Grinsa wanted was for Q'Daer to express his doubts about whether the Mettai really had saved them.

"This isn't helping any of us," he said, before Q'Daer could answer. He turned to Besh and Sirj. "We need to find some way to convince E'Menua that the two of you aren't threats to the sept."

"I would have thought that the spell we cast protecting all of you from Lici's plague had done that already."

Perhaps there was no way to avoid this conversation.

Grinsa looked at Cresenne. "Tell them."

She gazed back at him, clearly reluctant.

He took her hand again. "It has to be you. Coming from Q'Daer, it'll sound too belligerent. And I'm not the one who spoke to F'Solya."

Cresenne nodded and raked her free hand through her hair. Grinsa couldn't help but smile at the gesture-it was so familiar, and yet it had been so long since he'd last seen her do it.

"What is it you want her to tell us?" Besh asked.

"Many in the sept don't believe that your spell will protect them," Cresenne answered, facing the two Mettai. "Some think that the magic simply won't work. Others…" She took a breath, her eyes flicking briefly in Grinsa's direction. "Others wonder if you're trying to trick them into risking their lives. They think you want them to believe that the spell will protect them, but-"

"I understand," Besh said, despair in his dark eyes.

He stared off to the side. It took Grinsa a moment to realize that he was looking at one of the guards.

"So the fact that I killed Lici means nothing?" the old man asked after a lengthy silence. He faced Grinsa again. "The necklace given to us by F'Ghara means nothing?" His voice rose as he spoke. "The spell we cast to cure you and Q'Daer of the plague means nothing?"

"You were given the necklace before we knew of the coming war," Q'Daer said, surprising Grinsa with his tone, which was as gentle as Besh's had been harsh. "And there are those who would believe that you sickened us and then cured us to win our trust."

Besh let out a bark of laughter, high-pitched and abrupt. "Whose mind works that way? Who would do such a thing?"

"Lici," Sirj said in a low voice. "She would have done it."

This was met with another silence, though after a moment Besh gave a small nod, as if conceding the point.

After some time Besh raised his eyes to look at Cresenne. "The person who voiced these doubts to you, does he wield much influence with the a'laq?"

"It was a woman," she said. "And no, neither she nor her husband has much influence with E'Menua. But I believe that the doubts she voiced to me are fairly typical. They've been kinder to me than have most people in this settlement, but in other ways they're very much like the rest of the sept."

Besh nodded again, looking from Cresenne to Grinsa and finally to Q'Daer. "So," he began. "Do you think that we cursed you with the plague and then healed you so that you'd trust us?"

"I'm certain that you didn't," Q'Daer told him. "It was Torgan."

"Have you said as much to your a'laq?"

Q'Daer hesitated, then shook his head.

"Why not?" Sirj asked.

The Fal'Borna cast a dark look at Grinsa before answering. "Because while I'm sure that Torgan made me sick," he said, "I'm not entirely convinced that you hadn't intended to do the same thing."

Grinsa gaped at him. "What?"

"Don't look so surprised, Forelander. I told you again and again that they might band together against us. The Mettai may wield magic, but their eyes are dark. Their blood is Eandi."

This was true. Several times after Besh and Sirj joined their company on the plain, Q'Daer voiced concerns about the Mettai or the merchants striking at them, or even joining forces against them. At the time, Grinsa had dismissed the Fal'Borna's suspicions. He believed then, as he did now, that Besh and Sirj were sincerely interested in stopping Lici and her curse. But with an army of Eandi warriors and Mettai sorcerers now advancing across the plain, he could see why Q'Daer would be even less inclined to trust these two men.

He'd urged Besh and Sirj to leave the plain while they still could. Now he wished that he'd insisted.

"I'm sorry," Q'Daer said to the Mettai, frowning deeply. "I didn't want to say any of this, but the Forelander wanted me to come here with him, and I didn't feel that I should lie to you."

"I didn't make you sick," Besh said, sounding angry. "Neither of us did. We've left our home, our family, just so that we could keep Lici's plague from killing any more of your people. And now you think-" He looked away, his lips pressed thin, his chest rising and falling. "We never wanted to hurt anyone."

Q'Daer shrugged. "Our people are at war."

"Sirj and I aren't."

The Fal'Borna started to reply, but then stopped himself. Grinsa thought he could guess what he'd intended to say. To the Fal'Borna, clan was everything. Q'Daer could no more imagine these two Mettai refusing to follow their people to war than he could imagine himself marrying an Eandi woman.

"So what happens now?" Grinsa asked, looking at Q'Daer.

"What do you mean, what happens? We'll be riding to war before long. The Mettai will remain here."

"As guests," Besh said, a bitter smile on his lips. "How fortunate for us. How long will it be before your a'laq decides to execute us as enemies of your people?"

Q'Daer's mouth twitched. "I don't know."

"But you think it's possible that he will?" Grinsa demanded. The Fal'Borna exhaled, then nodded. "Yes."

Grinsa glanced at Besh, who was already regarding him, looking grim. "I tried to tell you to go home," Grinsa said.

"If we'd gone when you told us to, you'd be dead." Besh looked sidelong at Q'Daer. "Both of you would be."

"What can we do?" Grinsa asked the Fal'Borna.

"Nothing. If the a'laq decides that the Mettai are to be killed, they'll die."

"Right. And I'm asking you what we can do to convince him not to make that decision."

Q'Daer's expression hardened. "Have you listened to anything I've said? I don't trust these men!"

"Mind-bending."

Grinsa and Q'Daer both looked at Cresenne. "What?" Grinsa asked.

"One of you could use mind-bending magic on them. Force them to tell you the truth about what they did and what their intentions are."

"I've had mind-bending used on me before," Sirj said, looking doubtful.

"By F'Ghara. I wouldn't be eager to have it done again. It's… unnerving." Besh laid a hand on the younger man's arm. "I'll do it," he said.

Grinsa turned to Q'Daer. "Would that convince you?"

The man frowned. "I've… I've never used that magic. I wouldn't know how, and I don't want to… to damage him."

Besh paled.

"Then I can do it," Grinsa told him.

"You could make him say anything."

Grinsa threw up his hands. "So you don't trust yourself to do it, but you don't trust me, either."

"I trust the a'laq."

"No," Grinsa said, shaking his head. "I don't trust him. He'll bend Besh's words just to spite me."

"D'Pera, then," Cresenne said. "The n'qlae."

"I haven't had many dealings with her," Grinsa said, discomfitted by the suggestion. "Do you trust her?"

"I think so. I don't like her, but I think she'd be fair. And E'Menua is far more likely to be convinced if she wields the magic."

Grinsa couldn't argue with that. He turned back to Besh. "What do you think?"

"I'd rather the Fal'Borna simply let us go," the Mettai man said. "But if my choice is between subjecting myself to this magic and being executed as an enemy of the clan, I'll take my chances with the magic."

"The a'laq will never agree to this," Q'Daer said, shaking his head. "You can't go to him and suggest that the n'qlae use her magic on the Mettai because you don't trust him to deal with you honestly. I'm offended by the idea of it. He'll be outraged."

"He'll agree," Grinsa said. "And he'll have no right to be angry, since he will have insulted me first."

Early on, when he and Cresenne first arrived in the sept, Grinsa had felt that the a'laq was always one step ahead of him, anticipating his every attempt to win their freedom. He'd allowed himself to be drawn into the demon's bargain that had almost forced him to remain with the Fal'Borna when his search for Lici failed. A few turns later, he and Cresenne had yet to find a way to leave the sept, but at least now he knew what to expect from E'Menua.

He started their discussion with an earnest appeal to the a'laq to trust Besh and Sirj. "They saved my life," he told the man, again. "They saved Q'Daer. Why don't you believe they're our allies?"

"Because," E'Menua said, so predictable it was almost funny, "their kind have marched to war against us. They are no better than the dark-eyes with whom they've allied themselves."

"With all due respect, A'Laq, I believe you're wrong about them," Grinsa told him. "These other Mettai might have cast their lot with the Eandi, but Besh and Sirj are different. They're our friends. F'Ghara acknowledged as much when he gave them his stone."

"F'Ghara is a fool. He leads a sept with no Weavers. And even the Mettai admit that he gave them his stone before the war began. The war changes everything."

"I can prove to you that they can be trusted," Grinsa said. "Let me use mind-bending magic on them. We can ask them whatever you want; they'll have no choice but to tell us the truth."

E'Menua frowned. Apparently he hadn't expected this. All the better. "No," he said.

"Why not, A'Laq?"

"This is a waste of time. I need to be preparing my warriors for battle, not arguing with you about these two dark-eye sorcerers."

"All the more reason to do what I'm asking of you. Right now you have a dozen warriors posted around their z'kal. Those men should be readying themselves for war. We can settle this in just a few moments, if you'll let me do this."

E'Menua shook his head.

Come on! Grinsa pleaded silently. Say it! You know you want to. He kept silent, though, watching the a'laq, an expectant look on his face.

When E'Menua didn't say anything more, Grinsa tried to give him one last push.

"Suit yourself then," he finally said, turning as if to leave E'Menua's shelter. "I'll question the men myself. I'll have Q'Daer with me. He can tell you what they said."

"It won't mean anything," the a'laq told him.

"Why not?" Grinsa asked, his back still to the man.

"Because there's nothing to stop you from twisting their words."

There it was. Grinsa smiled, then quickly schooled his features and faced him again.

"You think I'd lie to you about this?"

"Not lie," E'Menua said, seeming to choose his words with care. "But you'll be controlling them. You can make them say whatever suits your needs. You want to save their lives, and you might be inclined to keep them from saying anything that would lead me to execute them."

"Then what would you suggest?"

The a'laq grinned, as if he already knew what Grinsa would say. "I could question them using my magic."

"And how can I be sure that you wouldn't make them say what you want to hear?"

"What would that be?" E'Menua asked.

"Whatever it would take to give you an excuse to kill them."

The a'laq gave a small shrug. "I don't suppose you can be sure. As I said, this is a waste of time."

He didn't rush to it; he didn't want to give E'Menua any indication that he'd been thinking along these lines from the start. Once more he made as if to leave, going so far as to push aside the piece of rilda skin covering the entrance to the z'kal. But then he stopped himself.

"What about another Weaver?" he asked, looking at E'Menua again. "What about the n'glae?"

The Fal'Borna narrowed his eyes. Clearly he hadn't expected this, either. "D'Pera?"

"We both trust her. She wields the magic. Why not?"

"When would we do this?" E'Menua asked, suddenly wary.

Grinsa didn't want to give him time to discuss any of this with the n'qlae. He trusted the woman to a point, but there could be no denying where her loyalties lay. If E'Menua had the opportunity to turn her to his purposes, he would.

"Now," Grinsa said. "Besh and Sirj are being treated like prisoners and they deserve better. They might even be convinced to help us in this war, but first we have to win their trust."

E'Menua stared back at him, seeming to have recognized too late that he'd been manipulated. For a moment Grinsa feared that the a'laq would refuse to allow D'Pera to question the men. But then E'Menua stood and nodded once.

"Very well. We'll find her now."

Grinsa had been expecting more of a fight, and now he wondered if the a'laq intended to deceive him somehow.

But E'Menua stepped past Grinsa and led him out of the z'kal. Q'Daer and Cresenne were waiting for them outside the shelter. Seeing them both, the a'laq faltered briefly and shot a dark look back at Grinsa. But he said nothing and started across the sept. Grinsa and the others followed.

"What happened?" Cresenne asked in a whisper as they walked.

"The n'qlae will question the Mettai."

Cresenne looked like she might say more, but Grinsa shook his head.

They found the n'qlae near the tanning circle, where she was overseeing the shaping of spears. Grinsa had met D'Pera before, but once again he was struck by her appearance. She was beautiful, with thick, long white hair that she wore unbound, and a hard, hawklike gaze that seemed to miss nothing.

Seeing her husband approach, she stood.

"Has something happened?" she asked.

E'Menua shook his head. "No. I need you to speak with the Mettai. I want you to use mind-bending magic on them. Find out what they intend to do to us." He glanced quickly at Grinsa. "I believe this is the only way we're likely to know if they can be trusted."

D'Pera looked from her husband to Grinsa to Cresenne, and finally back to E'Menua. "All right," she said. "You wish to do this now?"

The a'laq nodded. "Yes, now."

D'Pera looked around, seeming unsure as to whether she could just leave what she'd been doing. After a moment, though, she appeared to decide that she could. She and E'Menua began walking in the direction of Besh and Sirj's shelter. Once more, Grinsa, Cresenne, and Q'Daer could only follow.

"This is too easy," Cresenne said under her breath.

She was right. E'Menua had agreed to all of this too quickly; he'd been too willing to enlist D'Pera's help and approach the Mettai right away. But Grinsa was at a loss as to what they could do about it.

"You may be right," he whispered in reply. "But I started this. We have to see it through to the end."

She nodded, looking tense.

As they neared Besh and Sirj's shelter, Grinsa saw that the two Mettai were sitting outside, just as they had been earlier. Two of the Fal'Borna guards stood nearby, watching the men. The guards bowed to E'Menua when they saw him approaching. Besh and Sirj stood.

"Leave us," the a'laq told the two warriors without breaking stride.

"Yes, A'Laq."

The guards bowed again and started to walk toward two of their comrades who stood some distance from the shelter.

Before they'd gone far, though, E'Menua appeared to reconsider. "Actually, I want you to remain here," he called to the men.

They stopped, looking confused, but then quickly reassumed the positions they'd been in before.

E'Menua stopped in front of Besh and Sirj, regarding the two Mettai with obvious mistrust.

"You know why I'm here?" he asked.

Besh's eyes flicked toward Grinsa.

"Don't look at him!" the a'laq said sharply. "When I speak, you look at me!"

"Yes, A'Laq," Besh said evenly, meeting the Fal'Borna's gaze. "I know why you're here. You want to use magic to determine if we're telling you the truth."

E'Menua nodded. "Yes, that's right. The n'qlae will be using her magic on you." It was his turn to glance in Grinsa's direction, a thin smile on his feline face. "The Forelander and I don't trust each other enough to do it ourselves."

"I've never had this magic done to me before," Besh said. He looked pale and small next to the a'laq. The two men were about the same height, but E'Menua was by far the broader and more powerful of the two.

"You have nothing to fear," D'Pera told him. Grinsa heard nothing comforting in her tone. The woman's expression remained deadly serious. "The a'laq will ask you questions. I'll simply use my magic to ensure that you answer truthfully."

Besh didn't appear reassured. "I've heard some say that this magic can… can damage a person, leave them permanently addled."

"That's very rare," Grinsa told him. "And it's most likely to happen when the magic is forced upon a person and he or she tries to resist. You're allowing us to do this, and I'm sure the n'qlae's touch will be gentle. You shouldn't be in any danger."

The Mettai man nodded and smiled weakly.

"Are you ready?" D'Pera asked him.

"Yes."

There was a brief silence, and then D'Pera looked at her husband and nodded once. Grinsa had never watched another Qirsi use mind-bending magic on someone. He'd done it himself several times, but that was different. He now realized that his perceptions of what the magic did to people had been colored by what he sensed in their thoughts. As far as he could tell, nothing had happened to Besh. He looked exactly the same; his expression hadn't changed at all. Granted, D'Pera wasn't attempting to control him, as some Qirsi did with this power; she was merely making certain that he didn't lie. Nevertheless, seeing the magic in this way reminded him of why mind-bending was viewed by many in the Forelands as the most dangerous and insidious of Qirsi magics. A cunning sorcerer could exert control over the unsuspecting with no one realizing it. A merchant could be coerced into parting with gold; a noble could be tricked into condemning an innocent man; a king could be compelled to lead his people to war.

"Where do you come from?" E'Menua asked Besh.

"Kirayde, near the Companion Lakes."

"Why did you leave your village?"

"Lici had gone, and then people started getting sick. I believed that she was responsible for the plague and I wanted to stop her before more people died."

"Where is this Lici now?"

"I killed her. She attacked me and I had no choice."

E'Menua glanced at Grinsa, looking slightly disappointed.

"So you killed this woman," the a'laq went on. "But you stayed here on the plain after she was dead. Why?"

"To find her baskets. They were cursed and I knew that they'd spread the plague."

Grinsa chanced a quick look at Q'Daer, who was already eyeing him. The young Weaver held Grinsa's gaze for a moment, and then gave a quick, small nod. Grinsa had to smile. Q'Daer at least was convinced.

"How did Q'Daer and the Forelander get sick?"

"The merchant-Torgan-he exposed them to the plague. He used a scrap of basket that we'd found in another sept, one that had been destroyed already.

"And you were working with him, is that right?"

"Yes. Sirj and I were going to sicken them ourselves if Torgan hadn't. Then we could heal them and win their trust."

Grinsa felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. He stared at Besh, who looked panicked, his eyes wide and darting from face to face. E'Menua had a harsh, triumphant grin on his face. D'Pera was watching her husband. Grinsa couldn't be certain, but she appeared unnerved.

"And this spell you created that was supposed to shield us from the plague," the a'laq said. "Will it work?"

"No. That was a lie. If you're exposed to the plague, all of you will die."

"Of course. That was part of your plan as well, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Besh said, even as the look in his dark eyes screamed, No!