There was a sudden quiet when he passed that door. She stopped in her own rushtoward the hall, terrified that there was something going on, rushed on, wavingfrantically at Shiey, who appeared be-aproned and floured in the doorway."Food?" Shiey asked.

"Wait on the Mistress," she hissed. "When the Mistress comes." And then sheeased through that dining room door where a great deal of quiet had fallen. Thelast-come stood still in the doorway, the Commander was at the other end of thehall, and the two were staring at each other.

"Straton," Tempus said. So she knew who it was; she felt the cold; she heard thethunder rumbling over the roof and these great men with their swords all abristle with some offense that had to do with this man and his presence. OnlyTasfalen stood nonplussed, holding his wine glass and staring at Tempus as if hehad suddenly realized he was in very dangerous and exclusive company.

"Commander." Straton came unfixed from the doorway and walked into the room. Itwas all slipping out of control. Moria took a quick step forward, her throatparalyzed with fear and her wits with doubt.

"Our hostess," Tasfalen said, and swept in to seize her hand. She drew a greatbreath, strangled by the lacings of the gown, and the air felt thin and strainedand charged, her head swirling with sleeplessness and the smell of wine she hadnot even drunk. She took a hesitant step with Tasfalen clasping her hand.

"Please," she said. Her voice came out a hoarse breath. "Please sit down. Shiey" No, no, one did not shout for Cook in a formal party. She struggled to freeher hand. "Please."

Tempus moved. A mountain might have moved at her wish and amazed her no less.She saw to her dizzy relief all the men moving toward their seats, all of themmoving in on the double tables which did, miraculously, have room enough and tospare....

Tempus took a seat. Tasfalen led her inexorably forward, past the rows ofchairs, toward the head of the table. Straton- Her Straton-walked on the otherside of the tables, got as far as Critias and Tempus, slung his cloak onto apile of others in the comer, and quietly stood behind a chair he chose. Notlooking at them. Or at her. She might have been walking the edge of a chasm.

Tasfalen delivered her to the place centermost of the head table. She shook herhead furiously, desperately, with Tempus standing next to that chair, theMistress's chair; she belonged at the door, she had forgotten to take theircloaks, they had draped them off in the comer in a pile on an unused bench orhung them over the backs of their chairs; Cook delayed with the food, she had togo back to the kitchen and get Cook into motion....

Eyes shifted from her toward the door. She turned, clutching the finials of thecarved chair, and saw Ischade in the doorway-an Ischade without her cloak; in adeep-necked gown of deepest blue; the sparkle of sapphire at her tawny throat,her black, straight hair in upswept elegance.

Straton left his place, walked through that vast silence and offered his hand toIschade. Quietly she took it, and he walked her the whole long distance up thetables in mortal silence. Moria caught a breath, having forgotten to breathe.The effort strained the limits of the corset and dizziness tightened her handson the chair as Tasfalen's hand left her waist. Ischade had paused in herwalking to offer her hand to him, leaving Straton's. The silence trembled there,and Moria desperately transferred her grip to the next chair over, displacingTasfalen to endmost. She caught the edge of that glance: Ischade's nostrils werewhite about the edges and her mouth set in an anger carefully controlled.

He's Hers, Moria thought, weak-kneed. Tasfalen's Hers- with all that meant. Withabsolute terror that stole the strength from her knees and made her wish thatshe could bolt from the room. She felt the feather ride between her breasts withevery breath. Felt-something terrible in the air. Straton stood there,motionless, his face frozen. No one had moved.

"Lord Tasfalen," Ischade said, and turning that glance smoothly to Moria andreaching out her hand. "Moria, my dear." Ischade's hand closed on hers. Drew herclose, closer, so close that the musk of Ischade's perfume was in her nostrils,Ischade's hand firm on hers, Ischade's lips dry and cool on her cheek. "Howsplendid you look,"

Moria swayed on her feet. Ischade's hand ground the bones of her hand togetherand sent pain through her; Ischade's eyes caught hers and for a moment gulfsopened at her feet.

Then Ischade released her hand and offered it past her toward Tempus. Moriaturned her head, clutched the chair again, staring in helpless terror as she hadview of Tempus's face and the terrible delicacy with which he lifted Ischade'ssmall hand in his. Power and Power. She felt the hair rise on her nape as if thewhole air were charged.

"I owe you thanks," Tempus said. "So I'm told. In the matter of Roxane."

There was the smallest delay, another prickling of storm. "Welcome to Sanctuary,Commander. How fortunate your arrival."

0 my gods-

But Ischade turned then and let Tempus and then Straton draw her chair back. Shesat. Everyone settled into chairs. Moria fumbled weakly at hers before realizingTasfalen was drawing it back for her. She gathered her skirts, sat down as herknees went to water.

Tasfalen seated himself and slipped his hand to hers beneath the table and heldwith firm strength. Straton passed to Ischade's other side, took the chair atTempus's left, next to Critias. By some mercy, men had started talking to eachother. Then by a further one, the kitchenside door swung open and food startedcoming.

Tasfalen's hand rested on her thigh. She failed to care. She stared down thelong tables, listened to Tempus and Ischade speaking quiet banalities about wineand food and weather-

0 gods, get me out of here! Haught!

She would have hurled herself even into Stilcho's arms.

"I don't know where she is," Ischade was saying, again, in a voice not meant tocarry. "I've searched. I've spent the night searching. I had hoped for betternews."

"How much do you know?" Tempus asked.

A pause. Perhaps Ischade looked his way. Moria drank a mouthful of wine andtried not to shiver. "I know," Ischade said. And reached for Moria's hand againbeneath the table.

"Who told you?"

Another profound silence. "Commander. I am a witch."

Thunder rolled and cracked overhead. "Damn," Tasfalen said.And reached forMoria's hand again beneath the table.

Gentle man, she thought. Gentleman. He doesn't understand this. He doesn'tunderstand what he's into, he's as lost as I am-Ischade invited him, she musthave. Oh, what are they talking about, priests and searching and a demon? 0gods, where's Haught? It was a lie about the lock, he's not off on any errand,not now, with Her like this and the storm and the house full of Rankan soldiersWhy was Stilcho with him? What could he have to do with Stilcho?

She took another glass of wine. A third when that ran out. The room swam in ahaze, and the voices buzzed distantly in her ears. She picked at food and pickedat another course and drank another cup until she could stare about the roomwithout more than a distant trepidation. The conversation about the hall grewmore relaxed. Tasfalen whispered invitation in her ear and she only blinked andgave him a dazed look at close range, lost for a moment in blue eyes and amasculine scent unlike Haught's, whose clothes always smelled of Ischade.

Doomed, she thought, damned. Dead. Gods save this man. Gods save me. And sheheld his hand until his closed on hers with painful force.