Alec picked at the shred of cloth, then shook his head. "This was cut, not ripped. See how the weave is still straight? With this loose-woven cloth, the threads would be all ragged if anyone pulled on it hard enough to tear it. I'd say this was sent as a token, like the last one. Maybe Torsin went to the Vhadasoori to meet someone. A Viresse."

  "Possibly," said Seregil. "But if Nyal is right about how the poison works, he was dying before he got there. Then again, judging by the difference in the symptoms he and Klia have shown, it was probably his lungs that killed him, after all. The poison just hastened the inevitable."

  "What I felt from the Cup of Aura bears that out," Thero agreed. "Still, he couldn't have known how ill he really was, or he'd have asked for help getting home."

  Alec held up the tassel. "If we're right about this being a signal, he may have had reasons for wanting to go out alone."

  Seregil examined the puncture again. "If this is apaki'nhag venom, then he was most likely poisoned at the banquet. If he and Klia were poisoned at roughly the same time, which seems likely, then perhaps our poisoner miscalculated its effects, given Torsin's condition."

  "Maybe they even intended for suspicion to fall on the Haman the way it did," Alec speculated. "It was no secret that we were hunting with them."

  "And yet here we have evidence of the Viresse," said Thero, indicating the tassel.

  "And they traffic with Plenimar," said Alec. "I'll bet you a gold sester that if we find the device our murderer used, it will be Plenimaran."

  "I'd back your side of that wager," Seregil said. "I'll ask Adzriel if she can smooth my way to searching the house of Ulan i Sathil. Thero, if I do find the object used, you might be able to divine who used it."

  "Or the missing warding charm," said Alec.

  "What?" asked Seregil, eyes narrowing.

  "He's missing a warding charm," Alec told him, pointing at the dead man's left wrist. "Torsin had a warding charm just like mine, remember?"

  "It was to warn of ill-wishing, wasn't it? I see yours is gone, too."

  "It's a long story, but I know Torsin still had his a day or two ago. I remember seeing him fiddle with it when we were greeting visitors on the final day of mourning."

  "If we could find that, it could tell us who poisoned him," Thero said hopefully. "I've been talking with our Akhendi friends. People of that clan can sometimes sense details from the spent charms."

  "He could have taken it off, in which case it's probably here somewhere," said Seregil.

  A thorough search of the room turned up nothing, however.

  "Maybe he lost it," Alec suggested, giving up. "Or someone took it. I say we look for it at Ulan i Sathil's house." He held up the tassel again. "They certainly have reason to want Klia out of the way, they had her and Torsin in easy reach, and they'd know about that snake poison."

  Seregil tapped a finger against his lips, frowning as another thought occurred. "The same might be said of most of the eastern clans. The Ra'basi, for instance."

  Alec groaned. "Oh, Illior, are we back to that again?"

  "Back to what?" asked Thero.

  "Maybe nothing, except that I haven't quite trusted Nyal since we met," Seregil explained, taking little pleasure in the thought. "The Ra'basi aren't exactly neutral parties in the negotiations, and as Alec just pointed out, they'd have knowledge of the poison in question."

  "Anyone could have known," Thero pointed out.

  "Yes, but who else has come and gone here freely from the start? With the exception of the Bokthersans, what Aurenfaie has had closer contact with Klia and Torsin?"

  "And Beka," Alec added unhappily.

  "But he's the one who alerted you to the poison!" Thero exclaimed.

  Seregil shrugged. "He wouldn't be the first murderer to cover his tracks by bustling in helpfully after the damage is done. He's been everywhere Klia has the past day or so. He knew Torsin was ill, and how the poison worked."

  "But that seems like all the more reason not to tell us what it was," Alec insisted. "Go slowly with this, Seregil. Accusing him falsely won't hurt just him. Think of Beka."

  "Yes, but what about his tragic romantic attachment to Amali a Yassara? You once said you thought I disliked him because he was too much like myself. If you're right, we have good reason to distrust him. How many times do you suppose I've ingratiated myself with a mark, or gotten into a place to spy by way of the bedchamber?"

  Alec gave him a humorless smirk. "More often than I want to know about, obviously."

  "The Akhendi could be his next targets for all we know," mused Thero.

  "I say we keep quiet until we have more proof," Alec warned, still doubtful. "Beka's already given orders to keep out anyone but Bokthersans. Can't we let it go at that for now?"

  "We're a long way from making any accusations yet," Seregil admitted, running a hand back through his tangled hair. "In the meantime, I don't want him to guess we suspect him. Just make certain he's not left alone with Klia."

  "All the same, there are still too many other possibilities," said Thero. "If Klia and Torsin were both poisoned at the Viresse banquet, which seems as good a theory as any, then it narrows our field of suspects down to—"

  "Just about everyone in the whole damn city," Alec finished for him. "There were hundreds of people there."

  "Except Emiel i Moranthi," said Seregil.

  "We're standing on smoke," Alec muttered.

  "Yes, we are," Seregil agreed. "But this is a start toward something more solid." He took a last look at Torsin's hand; with the dark blood cleaned away, the puncture mark was practically invisible again. "I want you to keep this discovery to yourselves for a while. Act as if you think his death was a natural one."

  "What about Nyal?" asked Thero.

  "Tell him we found nothing. If he or someone else knows otherwise, sooner or later they may let it slip." Arranging the dead man's

  hands on his chest, Seregil turned for the door. "Let's go see what our helpful Ra'basi is up to now."

  They didn't have far to go. Emerging from Torsin's room, they met Nyal and Mydri in the hall, accompanying Klia as she was carried to her bedchamber on a litter.

  Dread washed over Seregil, seeing the pallor of death in her face. Only the slight rise and fall of her chest showed she still lived.

  "An infusion of black tea steeped in brandy may help her breathing," Nyal advised. "Otherwise, there's little to do but keep her warm and wait for it to run its course."

  Looking up at Seregil, he raised an expectant eyebrow. "Was Torsin poisoned, do you think?"

  "No. It's as we thought, a failure of the lungs."

  The Ra'basi seemed to accept this. Even as he surreptitiously watched him, however, Seregil felt a twinge of regret, thinking again of Nyal's kindness to him after his ill-fated walk in Haman tupa. In spite of everything else he might suspect, somewhere along the way, he'd begun to like the man.

  When Klia was settled in bed, Alec showed them a tiny spot of blue between her fingers. Even with the lissik, it was just a pinprick surrounded by a patch of bleached flesh.

  "It's spreading," Nyal said, frowning as he pressed at the white skin.

  "This is what apaki'nhag bites look like?" asked Seregil.

  "Yes, but not until after the person has already sickened. The venom slowly kills the flesh around the bite. This area will turn black soon and may have to be cut away, if she survives."

  No wonder they'd missed the bite on Torsin, thought Seregil. Not only was the hand bloated from being in the water, but Torsin had died too quickly for the telltale signs to appear.

  "If?" Alec croaked. "But she's made it this long—"

  Nyal placed a hand on his shoulder. "There are many kinds of apaki'nhag, some more venomous than others. The symptoms are the same, only the result differs. Some victims survive unscathed. Others are left blind or crippled."

  Seregil pressed a hand to Klia's moist brow, then bent close to her ear. "No matter what happens, I'm not leaving Aurenen
until I know who did this to you, and why."

  He straightened and looked at Nyal a moment without speaking.

  "What is it?" the older man asked.

  "This is a dangerous time for us here. Your own clan may fall under suspicion before I'm finished. Will you stand by us?"

  "As long as I can act with honor," Nyal assured him earnestly. "What of Beka's order, though? I'm not even supposed to be here."

  "Keep to the barracks for now. I'll sort it out when she gets back. If you need to go out, be sure to let someone know in case Mydri needs you."

  "I'll do whatever I can." With a last sad look at Klia, Nyal went out. Seregil counted to three, then peered around the doorframe in time to see the Ra'basi meet Sergeant Mercalle and several of her riders on the back staircase. They spoke briefly, then Nyal continued down.

  Seregil stepped out to meet Mercalle.

  "We're here to relieve Rhylin," she told him.

  Mydri came out to join them. "Seregil, would you ask one of the cooks to send up a honey poultice, hot water, and clean rags? I'm going to do everything I can to save that hand."

  Kheeta hurried up the front stairs. "Is Alec here? Saaban and the others are waiting out front."

  "I'm here," Alec said, coming out to join them. "I'll be there in a moment."

  "You'd better wear your sword," Seregil said.

  Alec glanced down in surprise. "I've gotten out of the habit. It's upstairs."

  Seregil clasped him by the shoulder. "Good hunting, tali, and be careful."

  Alec smiled slightly. "I was about to say the same to you. I've got the easier task, I think."

  "Probably. I doubt Ulan will be glad to see me again so soon."

  He watched Alec out of sight, then went out the back way toward his sister's house.

  Alec retrieved his sword belt from the bedpost and buckled it on as he hurried back down. In his haste, he nearly fell over Beka, who was sitting alone on the stairs just below the second-floor landing. She shifted closer to the wall but remained where she was, the picture of exhaustion.

  "When did you get back?" he asked.

  "Just now. I'm on my way up to see her, but I needed a moment alone. This seemed as good a place as any."

  "There's no change."

  "So I heard. It's good news in its way, I guess."

  "Have the Haman done anything interesting?"

  "Not a thing. Steb told me about Seregil's run-in with Emiel last night. Is he all right?"

  "Oh, yes. Seems more his old self than he has for days, in fact." Alec hesitated, then said quietly, "About Nyal—"

  "You think he has something to do with all this, don't you?" She looked down at her clasped hands.

  "Seregil does, but so far it's just a hunch."

  She sighed. "I've asked him to come back to Skala with me."

  Alec blinked in surprise. "What did he say?"

  "He asked me to stay. I can't."

  "Are you—I mean, I heard—" Alec broke off, feeling himself blushing.

  "Pregnant?" Beka favored him with a dark look. "Heard about the bounty, did you? It wasn't an order, just an opportunity. Kipa and Ileah think they may be. It's not the road for me." She yawned suddenly, pressing a hand over her mouth. "You'd better get moving."

  "And you'd better get some rest." Alec started down, then paused a few steps below her and reached to grip her by the knee. "Just— well, be careful."

  She gave him a sour scowl. "I'm not love blind, Alec. I just hope Seregil's wrong."

  "So do I."

  33

  Backtracking

  A sizable entourage awaited Alec in front of the house. Saaban and Kheeta had half a dozen kinsmen with them, all with swords and bows. Braknil and his decuria flanked them, dressed for battle.

  "Have you something of Klia's for me?" asked Saaban, his long face graver than usual beneath his dark green sen'gai.

  Alec handed him the tunic Klia had worn to the hunt, still stained with dirt and blood. Saaban held it between his hands for a moment, then nodded. "Good. The feeling of her khi is strong. I can even sense her illness. If she touched some object that caused her harm and it is there, I should be able to sense it. It does take great concentration, however. I can't just ride along picking things out of the air."

  "But if I show you where she fell, you could check the immediate area, couldn't you? Emiel may have dropped the ring or whatever it was into the stream."

  Saaban shrugged. "It is possible."

  Possible. Alec sighed, doubting they'd come back anything but empty-handed. "All right, then. Let's get going."

  They followed the same route as before, riding hard for stretches, stopping when Alec recognized places they'd halted the previous day.

  This was the first time since his arrival that he'd had the opportunity for any extended conversation with Saaban, and it occurred to Alec as they rode that if not for the standing ban against Seregil, he and Saaban would be calling each other kin.

  The man's quiet demeanor made him easily overlooked at banquets. Today, however, he proved to be a valuable companion, a skilled and patient tracker. He reminded Alec of Micum Cavish, and the similarity was underscored by the sword at Saaban's side. The hilt was worn with use, the scabbard scarred and weathered.

  "I've been meaning to ask you something," Alec said as they combed a site together on foot. "Killing is forbidden, and murder is rare among the 'faie, yet your sword has clearly seen some use."

  "As has yours," Saaban replied with a knowing look at Alec's scabbard. "We fight Zengati raiders, mostly. The slavers grow bolder by the decade."

  "I thought Seregil's father made peace with them?"

  "With some, not all. They're a tribal people, not controlled by any one ruler. Rather like the Aurenfaie, I suppose," he added with a fleeting smile.

  "And there are bandits in the mountains, too," said Kheeta, whose scabbard showed considerably less wear. "There's a troublesome band of them who range north of Bokthersa—a real mongrel pack: teth'brimash, mostly, with some Zengati and Dravnians mixed in. They steal, slave, whatever takes their fancy." He tugged proudly at his lock of white hair. "That's how I got this. The first time I went out to fight them, one of the faithless bastards tried to take my head off. I dodged just in time to get away with a nick, then returned the favor, but lower."

  "We may abhor fighting, but those of us who live on the coasts and borders must train our children to the bow and sword as soon as they can hold them," said Saaban.

  "Then it wasn't just life in Skala that made Seregil so good?"

  Kheeta snorted. "No, he comes from a long line of swordsmen: his father, his uncle, their father before them."

  "That's the way it is with our people, too," said Sergeant Braknil, who'd been following the conversation.

  "I've watched you Skalans at your practices," said Kheeta. "I would rather fight beside you than against you."

  "We should put on a demonstration for the Iia'sidra," Alec joked. "Maybe that would sway them to helping us."

  "The final outcome of the vote will have little to do with Skala." Saaban told him.

  "What about what's happened to Klia and Torsin? I thought the harming of a guest was a great crime, especially at Sarikali," said Alec.

  "It is a grievous offense, but it is a matter of atui, not unlike what happened when Seregil committed his unfortunate act. Bokthersa was banned from the Iia'sidra until the matter was tried and teth'sag satisfied, just as the Haman are now."

  "It was only out of respect for the rhui'auros that the matter was settled as it was," said Kheeta.

  "The rhui'auros?" Alec looked at the two men in surprise.

  Saaban exchanged a look with Kheeta. "Then it is true. Seregil has not told you what happened."

  "Not much." Alec shifted uncomfortably. "Just that the Iia'sidra spared his life after he was questioned by a rhui'auros."

  "It was the rhui'auros who saved Seregil from execution, not the Iia'sidra," Saaban explained. "His guilt was c
lear and the Haman demanded the two bowls in spite of his youth. Korit i Solun did not contest the sentence. Before it could be carried out, however, a rhui'auros intervened, asking that Seregil be brought to Sarikali. He was in the Nha'mahat for three days. At the end, the rhui'auros themselves ordered his banishment. Seregil was transported directly to Viresse and sent to Skala."

  "Three days?" Alec recalled how uneasy Seregil had been that night they'd gone there. "What did they do to him?"

  "No one knows exactly, but I was there when he came out afterward," Kheeta replied, suddenly grim. "He wouldn't look at any of us, and wouldn't speak. The ride to Viresse took over a week, and he hardly said a word the whole way. The one time I got close enough to talk to him, he said he wished they'd just killed him."

  "Some say the rhui'auros took part of his khi from him," Saaban murmured.

  "I think it was Ilar who did that," said Alec. "But you said that what's happened here now is somehow the same?"

  "In some ways," the older Bokthersan replied. "As a descendant of Corruth i Glamien, Klia may be able to claim teth'sag. In the meantime, a clan under suspicion cannot vote."

  "And if guilt is not proven?"

  Saaban spread his hands. "Then teth'sag cannot be carried out. How do you mean to proceed, if you do not find what you are looking for in the forest?"

  "I suppose we begin with anyone who had the most reason to hurt Klia. The way I see it, that brings in the Viresse first of all, since they're the ones with the most to lose. Then there are the Khatme, who hate us because we're Tir, outsiders."

  Saaban considered this. "There's sense in what you say, yet you are thinking with the mind of a Tir. This outrage was committed by an Aurenfaie. Their reasons might not be what you suppose."

  "You're saying I should think like an Aurenfaie?"

  "As you are not one, I doubt that's possible, any more than I could think like a murderer. It's madness to kill another. How can one think like a madman unless you are mad yourself?"

  Alec smiled. "Seregil claims that Aurenfaie have no talent for murder. Where I'm from, it comes a bit easier to most—whether they're doing it or just thinking of it."

  They reached the clearing at midmorning and found everything as it had been the day before. The ash in the fire circles was damp and undisturbed. Flies buzzed lazily over the piles of offal left where hunters had cleaned their kill.