Traitor's Moon

38 TRAITOR'S MOON

Seregil put off going to his sisters until nightfall, though they were never far from his thoughts. He and Alec had made most of their stealthy preparations separately, ostensibly to avoid notice. The truth was, he'd needed some small part of this leave-taking to himself.

Alone in the bedchamber that afternoon, he found himself working too quickly as he gathered what little he needed for the journey: his mail shirt, warm Aurenfaie clothes, a water skin, his tools.

Corruth's ring bumped gently against his chest as he worked. He paused a moment and pressed a hand over it, knowing he'd thrown away any chance he might have had to wear it with honor. He was already an outlaw.

A sudden wave of dizziness forced him down on the edge of the bed. It had been easy enough to keep up a front for the others; dissembling was one of his greatest talents. But alone now, he felt something inside break, sharp and hurtful as one of the shattered glass orbs from his visions. Pressing a hand over his eyes, he fought back the tears seeping beneath his tightly closed lids.

"I'm right. I know I'm right!" he whispered. He was the only one Korathan would listen to.

But you 're not so certain as you 've let on that he'll agree, are you?

Shamed by his momentary weakness, he wiped his face and pulled his poniard from his bedroll, savoring the familiar weight of its hilt against his palm. Beka had kept this and his dagger for him since they landed in Gedre. He tested the edges of the slender blade with a thumbnail, then slipped it into the knife pocket in his boot; another proscription broken.

If he failed? Well then, his failure would be gloriously complete. He hadn't protected Klia. He hadn't caught the assassins. Now he was probably throwing away his life, and Alec's in the bargain, to forestall Phoria's insane act of aggression.

Even if they did succeed, what awaited them in Skala? What sort of a queen ruled there now, and how glad would she be to see her sister safely home?

Another question lurked below all the others, one he had no intention of examining until he was well away from Aurenen—

forever

– a question he planned to spend the rest of his life avoiding.

what if—?

No!

Tossing his pack on the bed, he made a quick circuit of the room, focusing on its remaining contents. Whatever he left behind he wasn't likely to see again. No matter. He was about to go when the soft glint of silver caught his eye amid a pile of clothing next to the bed. Bending down, he fished out the vial of lissik the rhui'auros had given him.

"Might as well have something to show for my troubles," he mumbled, slipping it into a belt pouch.

The first lamps were being lit when he finally slipped next door. Alec hadn't offered to come, bless him, just given him a quick, knowing embrace.

Both Adzriel and Mydri were at home. Taking them aside into a small sitting room, he shut the door and leaned against it.

"I'm leaving Sarikali tonight."

Mydri was the first to recover. "You can't!"

Adzriel silenced her with a glance, then searched her brother's face with sorrow-filled eyes. "You do this for Klia?"

"For her. For Skala. For Aurenen."

"But it's teth'sag if you leave the city," Mydri said.

"Only for me," he told her. "I'm still outcast, so Bokthersa can't be held accountable."

"Oh, tali," Adzriel said softly. "With all you've done here, you might have won your name back in time."

There it was, that question he'd buried alive.

"Perhaps, but at too high a price," he told her.

"Then tell us why!" Mydri pleaded.

He gathered the two women close, suddenly needing their arms around him, their tears hot against his neck.

O Aural he cried silently, clinging to them. It was so tempting to let them convince him, to take it all back and simply wait out the inevitable here, as close to home as he was ever likely to get in this life. If Klia were taken hostage, perhaps he'd even be allowed to stay with her.

It hurt. By the Light, it hurt to leave that embrace, but he had to, before it was too late.

"I'm sorry, but I can't explain," he told them. "You couldn't maintain atui if you had to keep my secret. All I ask is that you say nothing until tomorrow. Later, when everything's sorted, I'll explain, I swear. But I promise you now, by the khi of our parents, that what I'm doing is honorable and right. A wise man warned me that I'd have to make choices. This is the right one, even if it's not what I'd hoped."

"Wait here, then." Adzriel turned and hurried from the room.

"You little fool!" Mydri hissed, glaring at him again. "After all it took to bring you here, you do this to her? To me?"

Seregil caught her hand and pressed it over his heart. "You're a healer. Tell me what you feel," he challenged, meeting her anger with his own. "Is it joy? Betrayal? Hatred for you or my people?"

She went still, and he felt heat spread slowly across his skin beneath her palm. "No," she whispered. "No, Haba, I feel none of that. Only resolve, and fear."

Seregil laughed a little at that. "More fear than resolve just now."

Mydri pulled him close again, hugging him hard. "You're still a fool, Haba, but you've grown into a fine, good man in spite of it. Aura watch over you always and everywhere."

"Our other sisters will hate me for this."

"They're bigger fools even than you," she said with a tearful laugh, pushing him away. "Adzriel's the only one of the five of us worth a peddler's pot."

Laughing outright, he thanked her with a kiss.

Adzriel returned with a long, slender bundle in her arms. "We

meant to give you this when you left. It seems the time has come, if a bit sooner than I'd anticipated." Folding back the cloth wrappings at the upper end, she presented him with the hilt of a sword.

Seregil reached without thinking, closing his hand around the leather and wire-wrapped grip. With a single smooth motion he pulled the blade free of its scabbard.

Polished steel caught the light like dark silver. A grooved fuller ran down the center of the blade, making it both strong and light. Tapered cross guards curved gracefully toward the blade, good for catching an opponent's sword.

Seregil's breath caught in his throat as he hefted it. It moved perfectly in his hand, just heavy enough, and balanced by the weight of its round, flat pommel.

"Akaien made this, didn't he?" he asked, recognizing his uncle's hand in the sword's clean, strong lines.

"Of course," Adzriel replied. "We knew that you wouldn't want Father's, so he made this for you. After seeing how you lived in Rhiminee, I suspected you wouldn't want anything too ornate."

"It's beautiful. And this!" He smoothed a thumb over the unusual pommel, a large disk of polished Sarikali stone set in a steel bevel. "I've never seen anything like it."

No sooner had he said it, however, than he had the strongest sense that he had seen something very much like it, though he wasn't certain where.

"He said it came to him in a dream, a talisman to keep you safe and bring you luck," Mydri explained.

"Luck in the shadows," he murmured in Skalan, shaking his head.

" You know Akaien and his dreams!" Mydri said fondly.

Seregil looked up at her in surprise. "I'd forgotten."

He sheathed the blade and ran his fingers over the fine leather scabbard and long belt, fighting the temptation to put it on. "I'm not supposed to carry a weapon here, you know."

"You're not supposed to be leaving, either," Adzriel said with a catch in her voice. "With all Alec and Beka have told me, I was worried that you would not accept it."

Seregil shook his head, bemused. His hand had known this weapon from the instant he'd touched it; it hadn't occurred to him to refuse it.

"I promise you this." Unsheathing it again, he put the hilt in Adzriel's hand and set the point against his heart, leaning into it until it dented the front of his coat. "By Aura Elustri, and by the name I once had, this blade will never be drawn in anger against an Aurenfaie."

"Then keep your temper and protect yourself," Adzriel advised, handing it back. "What shall I say when they find you gone?" Seregil smiled crookedly. "Tell them I got homesick."

He hid the sword in the stable, then took the back stairs two at a time. Resisting the urge to look in on Klia one last time, he hurried to his room, taking care to inform several servants he met along the way that he and Alec were retiring for the night.

The bedchamber was in near darkness, lit only by one small lamp. The balcony shutters were closed tight. The tunic and trousers he'd stolen earlier lay on the neatly made bed, together with an Akhendi sen'gai.

"Alec?" he called softly, hastily changing his clothes.

"Over here. I'm just finishing up," a voice said from somewhere beyond the bed.

Alec stepped into the light, still toweling his wet hair. Seregil halted, unexpectedly moved by the sight of his friend wearing Aurenfaie clothing. It suited Alec, making him look more 'faie than ya'shel. He'd always had the slender build and carriage—Seregil had recognized that the first time he'd laid eyes on him—but somehow it was more apparent now. As Alec removed the towel, the resemblance became that much stronger. Thanks to a walnut-shell concoction they'd brewed up earlier, his yellow hair and brows were now as brown as Seregil's.

"Did it work?" Alec asked, running a comb through the wet strands.

"It certainly did. I hardly recognize you myself."

Alec pulled something from his belt—another sen'gai. "I hope you know how to wrap these things. I haven't had much luck and didn't dare ask anyone for help."

"A good thing, too. Where'd you get these?" Seregil fingered the brown-and-green-patterned cloth with misgivings. Wearing false colors was a crime.

Alec shrugged. "Off a laundry line this afternoon. I just happened to be in the right place with no one else in sight. 'Take what the god sends and be thankful, right? What are you waiting for? We've got to get moving!"

Seregil smoothed the cloth between his fingers again, then placed the midpoint across Alec's brow and began weaving the long ends around his head to form as good an approximation as he could manage of the Akhendi style. Tying the long ends off over Alec's tattooed ear, he stepped back and looked him over with approval. "The

Akhendi have enough ya'shel among them that you shouldn't draw much notice anyway, but you could pass for pure just as easily."

Even in this light, Seregil could see the faint blush of pleasure that darkened his friend's cheeks.

"What about you?" Alec asked, belting on his sword.

Seregil glanced down at the remaining sen'gai lying untouched on the bed. "No. If I ever do put on one again, it will be one I have a right to."

Thero slipped in and closed the door behind him. "I thought it must be time. Are you ready?"

Seregil exchanged a quick look with Alec, then nodded. "You go ahead and make sure the way is clear. We'll be right behind you."

The unlit stable yard appeared deserted. Thero stood a moment, then motioned for Seregil and Alec to follow. Sending a silent thanks to Beka, Seregil strode across to the stable.

Inside, a lone woman was saddling a horse with Aurenfaie tack by the glow of a lightstone. Two other horses, one Aurenfaie, one Skalan, were ready to go. She heard them come in and turned, pushing back the brim of her helmet.

"Bilairy's Balls!" Seregil growled.

It was Beka. She'd traded her captain's gorget for a dispatch pouch and wore the worn tabard of a common rider. Her long red hair was bound up tightly at the back of her neck.

"What are you doing?" Thero hissed, equally surprised.

"Going with them as far as need be," she whispered back, handing Alec and Seregil the reins of the Aurenfaie horses.

"You're needed here!"

"I've been wresting with that all day," she said. "This is a command decision. Right now, nothing is more important than stopping Korathan. Rhylin and Braknil can manage here until we get all this sorted out. And if we don't—well, it may not matter."

Seregil laid a hand on the wizard's arm, forestalling further argument. "She's right."

Frowning, Thero gave in. "I can shield you until you're out of the city," he offered, drawing his wand.

"No, you'd better not. There are too many folk around who'd smell your magic on us. We'll manage, with two of us—" He gave Thero the quick, subtle sign for "Watcher."

Alec saw and nodded at Beka. "Perhaps it's time we made it three? I think Magyana would approve."

"I believe she would," Seregil agreed. "A bit sooner than we'd planned, perhaps, but there's no doubt of her worth."

"You mean it?" Beka breathed, wide-eyed.

He grinned. The Watchers were a strange, fractured group—even he did not know who all the members were—but Beka had seen too much growing up not to have formed some ideas of her own.

"Do you understand what it means, Beka, to be a Watcher?" asked Thero.

"Enough," she replied, confirming Seregil's suspicions. "If it means serving Skala as Seregil and my father have, then I'm in."

"There's a great deal more to it than that, but we'll deal with that later," Seregil said, hoping she wouldn't have cause to regret this hasty decision during the dark days ahead. "Do it, Thero."

Thero pulled an ancient ivory dagger from his belt and set it spinning inches from Beka's face. This was the test of truth, and one that allowed for no mistakes. Beka stood unflinching, her gaze fixed on Thero.

The sight brought a lump to Seregil's throat. This same knife had belonged to Nysander. It had spun in front of his own face when he took the oath as a very young man. Years later, Alec had felt its threat and passed the challenge.

"Beka, daughter of Kari," Thero whispered. "A Watcher must observe carefully, report truthfully, and keep the secrets that must be kept. Do you swear by your heart and eyes and by the Four to do these things?"

"I do."

The knife tumbled harmlessly into Thero's outstretched hand. "Then welcome, and luck in the shadows to you."

Only then did she betray relief. "That wasn't so bad."

"That's the easy part," Alec told her, grinning as broadly as she was. "Now you're really in the middle of it."

Seregil felt his heart skip a beat as she turned to him, eyes full of quiet triumph. "Whatever comes, I'm with you."

"First the commission; now this. Your poor mother will never speak to me again." Seregil gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, then went to retrieve his sword from its hiding place in the hay.

"Where did you get that?" Alec asked.

"A gift from my sisters." Seregil tossed the sword belt to him and went to sling his pack over his saddlebow.

Alec drew the blade. "It's a beauty."

Seregil took the belt back, wrapping it twice around his waist. Alec gave him the sword and he sheathed it, fiddling with the

scabbard lacings until it hung at the proper, low-slung angle against his left hip. His hands remembered each movement without the need for thought; the off-centered weight of the weapon at his side felt good and right. "Let's go."

"Luck in the shadows," Thero murmured again, walking them to the gate.

"And in the light," Seregil replied. He clasped the wizard's thin shoulder a moment, wondering what else to say… If this all went wrong, this would be their last parting.

Thero covered his hand with his own for a moment. The silence between them was charged with sentiments neither knew quite how to express.

Alec spared them the necessity. "We'll see that your rooms at the Oreska House are aired out for your return," he joked.

Thero's smile flashed in the darkness, then he was gone, barring the gate behind them.

Mounting his horse, Seregil looked up at the black disk of the new moon, just visible among the blazing stars.

Ebraha rabas.

Astha Noliena.

Nyal watched Beka and the others out of sight, then slipped away in the opposite direction, unaware of the rhui'auros who watched him.

Though it seemed a foolish risk, Seregil stopped one last time at the Vhadasoori. Across the dark span of water he could see a few people gathered around the Cup for some ceremony, but this side of the pool was deserted. Driven by some half-formed desire, he dismounted and went to the water's edge. Kneeling, he drew his sword and plunged it into the sacred pool, hilt and all.

"Aura Elustri, I accept your gift," he whispered, too low for the others to hear.

Reversing his grip on the hilt, he stood and offered the weapon to the moon, then let out a soft laugh.

Alec joined him, scanning the surrounding shadows nervously. "What's so funny?"

"Look at this." Seregil held the pommel up; the round, dark stone looked like a second new moon against the stars. "My uncle and his dreams."

"So that runs in the family, too, does it?"

"Apparently." Sheathing his sword, Seregil scooped up a handful of water and drank. He felt edgy, light, a little giddy, the way he used to, just before a job.

It was time to go.

They set off to the north, anxious to get away from the populated streets. The unrest was worse tonight. Angry voices rang out in all directions around them. Alec thought he caught a fleeting hint of the Bash'wai's mysterious scent and remained vigilant, expecting pursuit at any moment.

But most of the people they met paid them little mind, until they reached the edge of the Golinil tupa, where a half dozen youths emerged from a side street to follow them.

"Off to serve your foreign queen, Akhendi?" one of them shouted after Alec. The insult was followed by a hail of thrown rocks. One bounced off Beka's helmet. Another struck Seregil in the middle of the back. The horses shied, but Seregil kept a slow, steady pace.

"Aura bring you peace, brothers," he said.

"Peace! Peace!" came the jeering reply, together with more rocks. One grazed Beka's cheek when she unwisely looked back. Alec reined in angrily, ready to retaliate, but she blocked him with her horse.

"Come on; there's no time for this!" she warned, kicking her horse into a gallop.

The Golinil soon gave up the chase, but the riders didn't slow until they burst out onto the open plain. How far do we have to go before he's breaking the law? Alec wondered as they slowed to a canter under the star-studded sky.

Just then the Bash'wai scent closed in around him again, strong enough to take his breath away. Reeling in the saddle, he felt rather than saw a dark force surround him, blinding him and roaring in his ears. Then the stars were back, brighter than ever, but sliding sideways.

He landed hard and gave thanks later that he hadn't flung out his arm in time to break or dislocate it. As it was, his ribs took a nasty jar. He lay still for a moment, gasping and tingling strangely all over.

Then Seregil was there, cursing fiercely under his breath as he ran his hands over Alec's face and head. "I didn't realize—I don't feel any blood. Where did they hit you?"

"Hit me?" Alec struggled up. "No, it was just the Bash'wai. That's the strongest I've ever felt them."

Beka loomed over Seregil's shoulder, drawn sword in hand. "What did they do to you? You just swooned over."

"Must have been their idea of saying good-bye," Alec said, grimacing as Seregil helped him to his feet.

"Or a warning," Beka put in darkly, scanning the darkness around them.

"No, this was different." He shivered, recalling the sense of being engulfed.

"You're chilled through," Seregil muttered, pressing a hand to Alec's cheek.

"I'm fine. Where's my horse?"

Beka handed him his reins. "We better go slowly for a few minutes. We don't need you keeling over at a gallop."

Alec glanced back at the city as they set off again, half expecting to see mysterious shapes drifting after him. Sarikali looked deceptively peaceful from here, a dark, jumbled sprawl against the sky touched here and there by the yellow gleam of a watch fire.

"Good-bye," he whispered.

The starlight was enough to see by as they crossed the bridge and rode into the shelter of the forest beyond, following the main road.

As the night wore on Alec reached tentatively out across the talimenios bond, seeking answers to the questions there had been neither the time nor the privacy to ask earlier. Seregil glanced back at him and smiled, but his thoughts were wrapped in silence.

Tall fir and oak massed darkly on either side of the road, leaning over it in places to form an oppressive tunnel. Bats chirped and swooped around them, chasing huge moths with wings like dusty handprints. An owl flew along beside Alec for a moment, some long-tailed prey dangling from its talons. Other creatures marked their passing with a golden flash of eyes or startled yip.

They reined in briefly where a stream cut close to the road and watered the horses. Thirsty himself, Alec dismounted and walked a little way upstream to drink. He'd just bent down when a rank odor hit him. The horses smelled it, too, and blew nervously.

"Get back!" Alec hissed to the others, knowing this was no Bash'wai.

"What is it? " Beka asked behind him.

The horses shied again, then fought the reins as an enormous bear burst from the alders and splashed across the stream toward Alec.

"Don't move," he warned the others, mind already racing down

well-known paths. It was a sow bear, thin from the winter's cub bearing. If they'd somehow gotten between her and her young, then he'd reached his journey's end for certain.

The bear had stopped a few feet away, swinging her massive head from side to side as she watched him. Seregil and Beka were still mounted, able to break for it. With one eye on the bear, he gauged the distance to the nearest climbable tree.

Too far.

The bear let out a loud grunt and lumbered forward to sniff his face. Alec gagged on the hot, fetid breath, then felt himself knocked backwards. Sprawled on his back, he looked up at the bear silhouetted against the sky, its eyes glowing like molten gold.

"You'd better not linger, little brother," she told him. "Smiles conceal knives."

With a last deep grunt, the sow wheeled around and splashed away upstream. Alec lay where he'd fallen, too stunned to move.

"By the Flame, I've never seen a bear act like that!" Beka exclaimed.

"Did you hear it?" he asked faintly.

"Not until you gave the warning," she replied. "It came out of nowhere."

"No, did you hear what she said?" he asked, getting shakily to his feet.

"She spoke to you?" Seregil asked excitedly. "By the Light, Alec, that was a khtir'bai. What did it say?"

Alec bent down and placed his hand easily inside one clawed paw print. It had been no apparition. "Same thing the rhui'auros told you," he replied in wonder." 'Smiles conceal knives. »

"At least they're consistent in their obscurity," grumbled Beka.

"I suspect we'll find out what it means soon enough," said Seregil.

Fog seeped up from the ground as they rode, collecting beneath the dark boughs and dripping coldly from the ends of long evergreen needles. Spiderwebs were woven across narrow places in the trail; they were all soon coated in sticky wet strands.

Just after midnight they reached a sizable village next to a small lake.

"The first change of horses for the dispatch riders is here, in a byre just beyond town," Beka whispered. "Do we dare make a change here, or cut around?"

Seregil slapped absently at a spider on his thigh. "We need the

horses. Dressed as we are, and at this hour, we should be safe enough. I doubt there's even a guard posted."

Just past the last small house they found a sagging lean-to, its cedar-shake roof thick with moss. Three sturdy horses were stabled inside. Dismounting, they shifted their saddles over, working by the light of Seregil's lightstone.

As they led the new mounts out, however, a sleepy young face appeared out of a pile of hay at the back of the byre. Beka grabbed quickly for Seregil's light, waving the others outside. Holding the light high to keep her face in shadow below the brim of her helmet, she faced the boy. He was sitting up now, regarding her with groggy interest; not a guard, just someone left to tend the horses.

He mumbled something, and she recognized the word for "messenger."

"Yes, sleep again," Beka replied in her broken Aurenfaie. Her knowledge of the language had improved, but she still understood more than she could say back. "Ours we leave."

"Is that you, Vanos?" the boy asked, craning his head for a look at Alec.

Alec whispered something back and quickly disappeared.

The boy squinted back up at Beka as she turned to go. "I don't know you."

Beka shrugged apologetically, as if she didn't understand, then pocketed the light and led her horse out.

The hay rustled behind her and she heard the boy mutter, "Cheap Skalan."

Just like home, Beka thought with amusement. Pulling a coin from her wallet, she flipped it in his direction.

"Now we've been seen," Alec muttered as they set off up the road again.

"Couldn't be helped," Seregil said. "He mistook us for the usual riders, and we'll be long gone before anyone comes looking for us."

"I hope you're right," Beka replied doubtfully.

Thero prowled the halls after Seregil and the others left. Only Braknil and Rhylin shared his vigil; as far as the others knew, Beka was on duty with the princess. Klia remained unconscious, mercifully oblivious as Mydri checked her mutilated hand repeatedly through the night, debating whether or not to cut more away.

From the beginning, their little delegation had rattled about the cavernous place like seeds in a dry gourd. Now, with so many missing or dead, the sense of emptiness was palpable. Thero strengthened the warding spells he'd laid about the place, then retreated to the colos. The fragrant night breeze across the back of his neck felt good as he took a lump of candle drippings from his pocket and set about warming it between his fingers. When it was soft, he divided it in two and took out his wand. Slipping off the two long strands of hair—one Seregil's, one Alec's—knotted around it, he kneaded each into one of the wax balls until it disappeared. Speaking the appropriate spells, he covered them with netted designs he made with the tip of his dagger. A red glow flared briefly at the center of each soft lump when he finished. Satisfied, he tucked them away for future use.

It was well past midnight now; a few scattered pinpricks of firelight glimmered in the distance. Imagining groups of friends or lovers awake together in the glow of those lights, he was suddenly overcome by a wave of loneliness. The people he trusted most were already miles away. Those whose trust he needed, here in this strange land, he must lie to, breaking honor to serve his princess.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, he settled himself more comfortably on the stone seat to meditate. Instead, his unruly imagination took him back to the mysterious vision he'd experienced during his first visit to the Nha'mahat. He absently smoothed the lap of his robe; the dragon bite had healed, but the marks left behind remained as an impressive reminder of that night's half-realized enlightenments.

Something landed on the back of his hand, startling him badly. Looking down, he saw that it was a little dragon no longer than his thumb. It clung to his knuckle with tickling claws and regarded him curiously.

He sat very still, wondering if the creature would bite. Instead, it folded its delicate wings against its sides and went to sleep, its smooth belly radiating welcome heat against his skin.

"Thank you," he murmured to it. "I can use the company."

The dragon's warmth spread up from his hand, warming him through. Smiling, he settled into a quiet meditation. When the inevitable uproar began, whatever form it took, he would need his wits about him.