"Why are you so damned cheerful?" I growled.

His smile broadened. "Why do you think, girl? This day I am free of the pain that has afflicted me since before you were born. Do you have any idea what I have been going through?"

"Hideous torment, I hope," I replied.

"Knives," he hissed, all his lightness gone in the instant. He leaned towards me and I swear I could feel his hatred beating against my skin. "I have lived with knives stabbing into my leg, sleeping and waking, for more than twenty years. Pain at rest, pain in movement, pain in every step I have taken every day of the world, since I paid for the Farseer I never got to use, thanks to your dear mother. Yes," he said, straightening up, the manic edge coming back into his voice and manner, "you will do nicely."

"Stop wittering and help me," commanded Berys. Marik went to help him set up what looked like an altar on the hard bed, putting candles in holders, lighting the coals in a small brazier. My heart dropped like a stone and I struggled desperately against the manacles. I might as well have saved my strength.

Berys started so chant, quietly, and Marik wandered back to me. He came right up to me, fascinated by something. Far too close for comfort in any case.

His eyes never left mine as he said, "Do you know, Berys, I have been learning things again. I do believe you will find my latest information interesting."

"I don't give a damn what you've learned," snapped Berys. "Not now! Draw back her sleeve, I need a sample."

Marik, stung by Berys's scorn, sneered and muttered, "Then I shall save my news until it pleases me to tell you."

Dear Goddess, he hasn't told Berys yet that I'm pregnant. I sent a wordless prayer of thanks winging to Mother Shia for that strange mercy. It could not last long, surely, but every moment of my tormentor's ignorance was precious.

Turning to the guards, Marik snapped, "Hold her fast." He pulled back the sleeve of my grubby tunic and the dingy linen shirt underneath—and suddenly a knife appeared in Marik's hand and he sliced my arm open. I cried out, in pain and shock, while he told the guards to hold me still as he collected in a brass cup the blood that flowed freely from the deep wound.

"You fool," said Berys crossly. "We only needed a small sample." He gestured again with his right hand, as if he were throwing something at me—a bolt of dark blue Healers power, shot through with black, struck my arm. For the first second it felt like Healer's power, but the instant it began to work I started screaming in earnest. The pain of the wound was nothing to the pain of this "healing"—it was as if he had applied a poultice of concentrated stinging nettle to my open wound. My blood flowed even more freely, as if to wash off Berys's attempt at healing, and somehow that helped. Berys frowned and gestured to Marik, who against his inclination wrapped my arm tightly. The bright blood bloomed through several thicknesses of bandage, but eventually it slowed enough to content Berys.

"What in the name of the Goddess do you need that for, anyway?" I asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the pain in my arm.

"I do nothing in the name of the Goddess, but if you must know, girl, I am preparing a great work," replied Berys. He seemed to have picked up something of Marik's mood and added cheerfully, "I simply need to know that all will go smoothly. You are going to be part of history. You should be honoured."

"You should rot in the deepest Hell, but that isn't happening either," I snarled. Berys laughed and turned away, starting to chant again.

And now Marik stood directly before me, still staring. He seemed to be looking for something in my eyes. I was determined that he would find only disdain and anger. Never fear. Never despair.

"Proud of yourself, are you, Marik?" I sneered. "So, I'm finally to be given to the demons. So impressive. It's only taken you, what, twenty-four years to find me? And now you have me, chained and helpless, one woman against you and your pet demon-master, and your—trained bears." The guard still didn't move a muscle, damn it. "Very brave. Well done. What will you do for your next astounding feat? And do you honestly think Berys is going to let you live long enough to manage it?"

Berys started moving his hand and his stump to make figures in the air above the altar. Marik leaned closer to me and spoke quietly. "Oh, you have no idea, girl. In a few hours the Healers in every outpost of the House of Gundar, throughout the Four Kingdoms, will turn the world on its head. Every city, every town with enough folk to make it worth my while, will soon be full of people in constant fear of what evil a nasty Healer might do. Even those we didn't manage to influence will be shunned, as there is no way of knowing the difference." He grinned, a wild, unbalanced grin, no more than one step from insanity. "When brave King Marik comes to rid them of this terrible demonic oppression they will hail him as their new master. With delight. I shall come to the throne of the Four Kingdoms on a wave of acclamation."

He was very near now, relishing his power over me, and floating into my mind came Jamie's voice, clear as if he stood beside me, from those midnight sessions where he taught me to defend myself without a weapon. If there's a man you need to drop fast, Lanen...

"You'll come to the throne bloody well limping," I growled. My arms were bound and held, but my legs were free. I lifted my knee as hard and fast as I could. He doubled over and fell to the ground, turning his back to me. Amazing. Just what Jamie said would happen. I aimed my kick just to one side of his backbone, between the hips and the ribs, and by luck managed to hit the place Jamie had told me about. It was wonderful. He appeared to be in agony, which suited me just fine.

The guards, bless them, were slow to react, but they finally thought to drag Marik away. Berys, turning, didn't seem in the least concerned. "Put him in the far corner, she can't reach him there," he said, disgusted. 'Then leave us."

They laid Marik gently on the stone floor and covered him with the blanket. He was gasping with pain, but his great friend Berys turned to look at him, said, "You'll live," and turned back to his altar.

Whatever he was doing, it appeared to be working. He threw a few lansip leaves on the little fire, and for an instant there was a most incredible scent in that horrible place, the very smell of the Dragon Isle itself. I closed my eyes and inhaled. Just in time, as it happens, for the next moment a terrible reek and a great cloud of smoke arose from his little brazier, and the figure of a demon appeared. This one had huge eyes to go with its outsized mouth. It also appeared to be wrapped in a chain.

'Tremble, mortal, for I am—" began the demon, but Berys tugged at the chain and the thing screamed.

"You are in my power. Don't be stupid. You have the simplest of tasks. Taste this blood and let me know if it will be acceptable to—" Here he said something that I thought might be a name, but I couldn't understand it.

"Will it be offered in full or in part?" the thing asked, gazing hungrily at the cup in Berys's hand.

"In part, at first," said Berys.

"Give," the demon demanded, and yelped again as Berys twisted the chain around it.

"You obey me for the price," he said, and the thing bowed. "Take," he commanded, and offered it the brass cup full of my blood.

The demon took it and drank it all down at once, whereupon it screamed far louder and more convincingly than it had at Berys's hands. It didn't stop screaming, and as it didn't seem to need to breathe, the noise was appalling. It was obviously in agony. I couldn't tell, exactly, but it looked as though it was trying to rid itself of the blood but couldn't. It finally managed to say the words "broken" and "contract," and Berys yelped. He sent what looked like black fire towards the thing—a kind of reversed Healer's light—and a stream of blood, presumably mine, flowed out of its mouth onto the stone floor. It finally stopped screaming.