I woke, groggy, with no idea what time it might be. There was no hint of moonlight, though whether that meant she was yet to rise or had passed me by, I didn't know.

I cursed to myself as I sat hunched on the hard bed, staring into the darkness and wondering with a kind of detached dread what Berys might have done while I slept. I felt no different, and to be honest, I suspected there was not a thing I could do about whatever it was at this stage. I ignored the possibilities as best I could, and quietly blessed my ignorance of demon matters. If something awful was going to happen that I couldn't do anything about, I'd rather not know.

I found, as my eyes adjusted to the low light, that there was a tray on the floor with food on it—bread, cheese, cold soup, and water. I was starving and ate every scrap. I knew absolutely that it wasn't poisoned. Berys would never be so kind.

For all that, I only just managed to keep it down. Thank the Lady, it wasn't the deadly sickness Vilkas had healed me of— sweet heaven, was it only a week past? a little less?—just the normal sickness most women have to put up with in pregnancy. It was quite a deal less bothersome today than it had been the last few days. I didn't know if that was because something was happening with my babes, or because after days of enforced fasting I'd had two meals this day, or if it was just the natural time for that kind of illness to end. I tried to remember what I knew of childbearing, but the little I could recall was that there seemed to be us ninny different reactions as there were women.

"Damn," I said out loud—at least, my lips and tongue moved, and my throat shaped the sounds, and air rushed through, but nothing came out.

Alone in silence. Again. Still.

At least now I knew how Berys had discovered that I could speak with the True Dragons, the Kantrishakrim, in their Language of Truth. Bloody Marik must have told him.

O blessed Shia. I turned cold in an instant, head to toe. Marik, who knew I was pregnant, and was only waiting for the advanta geous moment to tell Berys. O Mother of us All, I begged, blessed Mother, as one to another I beseech you, protect my babes. Let there be no good time for my unnatural father Marik to tell Berys what he has learned. Let Berys curse Marik six ways in a se'ennight if it will keep my babes from the evil one.

I couldn't even hear my prayer myself. Berys's spell was strong and solid—I had tested it day and night ever since I had been taken, but as far as I could tell I was still held silent on all levels.

I cannot imagine how he managed to silence the Language of Truth. Until a few months past I'd only ever heard of it in legends, and now I missed it as I'd have missed a lost arm. There on the Dragon Isle where I first heard my beloved's voice in my head, and replied without thinking, Varien had told me that I was the only human he had ever known who could use it.

At least until now. I had shouted in truespeech and Marik had heard me, curse him.

What a damnable twist of fate. Shikrar and Akor, attacking Marik's mind, had opened it to truespeech. Which had been taken from me just when it would have been bloody useful.

Something caught in my throat and I coughed, silent still. Hells take it. Somehow the fact that I couldn't even hear myself cough made me furious. I screamed aloud, just because I had to, for the sheer frustration of it.

Nothing.

I managed to stop myself this time, before I yelled my throat raw. I'd done that the first day of my captivity, after Berys had left with the marks of my hands on his misbegotten neck. Nothing had worked, and eventually I had grown weary of the effort. Anger is a wonderful tonic, but even anger could not let me forget that I was alive only through Berys s distraction with other matters, and only until he got around to accomplishing my damnation. At best it would only be a matter of hours.

And what in all the merry Hells had he meant by saying I was become precious to him? Obviously because of my changed blood, though what it might mean to him I could not imagine. Kantri and Gedri mixed—yes, that was what I had agreed to when Vilkas saved my life. My babes had been killing me, for their blood was Kantri and Gedri blended and they all unwitting fought for their lives nearly at the cost of my own. I would surely have died if not for Vilkas, that tall, dark, reserved lad with so great a well of kindness in him. Vilkas and his comrade Aral put forth more power than I knew existed, and with my consent changed me into a creature neither truly human nor truly dragon. I yet reeled from that deep change; I yet knew not what it might mean for me in the march of time; but to my heart it mattered not a whit. My babes were safe, my body was able to support them, and that would do for now.

I tried to breathe deep, tried to relax, but it was no use. My heart began to race, my breathing quickened, as if I could hear the tramp of the guard through the thick blanket of silence that covered me. I think what bothered me most was that I could not rest. Every instant I expected the door to fly open, every moment that passed I waited for Berys to return and accomplish my damnation. Whatever that would feel like. Surely I would no longer be myself. A body without a soul, like a breathing doll, no volition, no intelligence... I shuddered again, from fear, from cold. The first gleam of moonlight had stolen through the high grating, reminding me of passing time. It couldn't be long now.

I forced myself to calm down and drew in a deep, shuddering breath. If I stopped to think about Berys and what was surely going to happen, I wouldn't have the courage to breathe at all.

Start small, Lanen. You're still alive, don't give up yet.

I had no idea how Berys had brought me to this place, but it had happened in the blink of an eye. As far as I could tell I had been imprisoned two, maybe three days. Maybe four. My beloved husband Varien and I, and the Healers Vilkas and Aral, had all been exhausted after we brought the Lesser Kindred to their new life. We all could barely stand from weariness and had taken a moment after that day and night of work to rest, when suddenly the air had turned thick with demons. I had been torn from Varien's side to be dropped at the feet of a man I'd never seen before, but whom I guessed from his association with demons must have been Berys. I had heard of him and knew that he was older than my mother, but this man looked barely older than me. He had grabbed me, stepped onto a small platform made of rock, and suddenly we were here.

It all seemed a great deal of trouble to go to. And why in the Hells was my peculiar blood so useful to Berys?

Back to that again, around and around my thoughts trudged like a dog turning a spit.

I shook myself, there in the cold darkness. Think of something else, girl!

Oh, yes. Something else. What will it be like to be a body walking about without a soul, once mine is stolen away. Where would I be? Tormented by demons for all time? Or somehow aware of my empty shell being put through its paces by Berys the Damned?

I shivered harder in the gathering cold. Goddess help me. Either one sounded terrible beyond belief.

Marik must hate me desperately, to hand me over to Berys.

Well, it was mutual now, and all the Hells mend him because

I surely wouldn't. He knew about my babes, and he would surely tell Berys eventually if he had not already. For that alone I would kill Marik if I had the chance. It occurred to me that I should feel some kind of guilt at having tried to murder my father, but to speak truth I felt only anger at myself for having failed.

I had spent most of my life blessedly ignorant of all of this. I had known nothing of my true father and had been abandoned by my mother after little more than a year. My dear friend and heart's father Jamie had raised me as best he could, but it seems that even he could not keep my fate from finding me. For reasons best known to himself, Marik had chosen last autumn to make good his promise to the Rakshasa, and had hounded me across the western sea to the Dragon Isle.