"What in all the Seven Hells happened?' cried Berys. "It is only blood, there is nothing in it that could—"

"Kantrissshakrim!" the demon hissed. "You fed me blood of the Kantrissshakrrrim! I will dessstroy you!"

Berys stood still as death, staring in utter astonishment. The demon tried to get at him, but the binding held. Berys shook himself and said, "Only your death would break the contract. All is done, you are released."

"Payment!" it cried.

"You were paid with lansip when I summoned you. You have not done as I demanded, you are owed nothing. Go!"

The demon hissed like a cauldron full of snakes and disappeared with a loud bang and a reek of rotten eggs.

Berys turned to me, frowning in frantic calculation, his eyes narrowing as he started to pace back and forth in front of my cell, muttering to himself. "How is it possible? You are human, I know it, your father lies there and your mother was but a vessel made use of. Human born of human. You cannot be other, but you are." He glanced for an instant at the smoke still hovering above the brazier. "Demonstrably."

Then his frown disappeared and his eyes opened so wide I could see white all around. And I thought he looked insane before.

"Kantri and Gedri blood. Can it be? How in the—no, forget how. You! Speak truth!" he cried, and cast a cloud of that darkness at me. I took a deep breath and held it before the cloud reached me. "Speak! Your blood is Kantri and Gedri mixed?" he demanded.

"Go to the deepest Hell and rot there," I said with the last of my air, when I knew I could hold my breath no longer. I was forced to breathe in that blackness—but I could not. It was like trying to breathe soil. I had choked nearly to death when he dissipated it. I knelt, desperately gasping sweet air into my burning chest, as he stared. And then he started to laugh.

That was worse than hearing the demon scream.

Berys laughed loud and long, and eventually came close to me. I shrank as far back as I could.

"I do not know what has changed you, or how, or why," he said, exhilarated, "but as of this moment, you are the most precious creature in all the world to me."

Marik stirred at this. His breathing was returning to normal and he sat up, wincing. "I don't see what's so wonderful about her," he said, his voice rough. "In any case, I'm sure it will still be wonderful when her soul is gone to pay off my demons."

"Hmm—true enough, I suppose. Though it's a bother I didn't need this night," sighed Berys, peeved. "However, I don't need her soul for anything in particular, and she will surely be easier to transport if her will is gone. I will perform the sacrifice this very night before we leave, if only to shut you up about it."

"About damn time," growled Marik, climbing slowly to his feet. He stood before me, just out of reach, his face distorted by the mixture of triumph and hatred. "These are your last hours, girl," he growled, adding in a voice only I could hear, "all of you." Then, louder, "Suffer as I have suffered, sure in the knowledge that before midnight your soul will be in thrall forever to a Lord of Hell." He laughed then, a soul-chilling laugh because it sounded so normal. As if he laughed at a slight witticism rather than rejoicing in the hideous fate he planned for me.

I stood up straight, summoned what defiance I could muster, and responded, "I am alone and unarmed. What you say may indeed come to pass." I forced myself to attempt a smile, anything to plant some seed of doubt in Marik's mind. "But you are, of your own free will, actively sacrificing your only child to the powers of darkness. How do you hope to escape the same fate I shall suffer?"

He smiled. "As long as you go first, I don't really care." He turned and left, whistling. Berys, once his bears had cleared away the trappings of his altar, stopped and grinned at me. "Soon," he said, as he summoned his Healer's power and gestured at me.

"Sleep," he said.

I knew no more.

Well, I admired Varien's dedication, but you'd not get me running down that road in the dark so soon after a decent meal. I'd get a stitch in my side in no time, and I expected he would too. But there, he was following his love.

Well, so was I.

I glanced over at Aral, almost unconsciously sitting beside Vilkas as she spoke with Maran. As though it were her natural place. She chose not to notice that Vil, close as a brother to her, had never indicated that he felt anything other than that for her. I noticed. He had never said... we had never spoken of her in that way, but after these two years I knew them both weD enough. That churning soul, never at rest even in sleep: he did not long for Aral as I did, as a man longs for a woman, but he needed her desperately. It was that she sensed. It can be a powerful attraction for a young woman, knowing that you make a genuine difference in a man's life, that you are truly needed. It is not enough, of itself, to make anything other than friendship, but Aral was very young. I knew she loved him and that he did not return it, and when we had all three been cast by Berys to float on the tides of the world, I had resolved to be with her when she came to need me, for that day would surely come.

I was interrupted by Gair, the landlord and a friend of mine. 'Lo, Willem," he said, cheerily. "You are right welcome, you and your friends who pay good silver in good time!"

I grinned. "Well, if you can't make your hints any broader than that, I'll not pay you until I see you next." To still his spluttering protests I drew forth a small handful of silver and paid the shot I'd run up over the last few months.

Gair took it with thanks, and said with some amusement, "You'll never credit it, but I heard some of the old lads talking about dragons this afternoon! Can you imagine? Dragons!"

I raised my eyebrows and stared at him. "You amaze me."

"Sure as life. They sat out there"—he gestured to the common room—"and said they'd seen dragons—not the little ones, the big ones! Like in the children's tales!" He laughed. "Perhaps I'd best cut the ale with more water next time!"

"Gair, where have you been this day long?" I asked, as innocently as I could. Goddess, it was hard to keep a straight face.

"Cooking all day, since before dawn," he said. "This is my baking day. You're lucky, I made extra bread and those honeycakes on a whim. Mind you, I expected that roast to last me all week. I'll have to start another tomorrow." He looked around. "You don't think all this food just appears from nowhere, do you? It's taken me most of the day, starting when late turns to early. Why, what's been happening?"

"Have you never looked out your door, man?" I asked, stunned.

"Only to look away south and wonder what was keeping the trade away."

I took him by the shoulders and drew him back into his kitchen, trying not to laugh. "Gair, my friend—the old men were right. There are dragons here. Now. Not just the little ones, the Lesser Kindred—though they are come into their own. They can speak and reason now, Gair, the little dragons. They are intelligent."

"Never!" he cried, eyes wide. "Impossible! I've seen the creatures in the woods for years, they're no brighter than cattle!"

"Believe me. Awake and aware and capable of speech." I started to smile, watching his face. "And, Gair—breathe, man, life has changed but all's well enough—the True Dragons are here as well. They arrived this morning."

He went from astounded to annoyed in the instant. "Nonsense!" he scoffed. "It can't be. They're not real, man!"

'Then I've been talking with tales all the day long, aye, and for some days since," I said, trying not to laugh.

"But—but in the tales they're huge, they couldn't come and— not be—seen—Will, you bastard, you've seen them!"