He watched Balustrus carefully; and though the metal-master gave no overt signof betrayal, Walegrin became anxious. Strangers came more frequently and thecripple made journeys to places not even Thrusher could find. When questioned,Balustrus spoke of the Lizerene who tended Jubal and the bribes he needed topay.

On the morning of the eighth day, a rainy morning when the men had been glad tosleep past dawn, Walegrin finished his planning. He was at the point of rousingThrusher when he heard sound where there should have been silence beyond thewall.

He roused Thrusher anyway and the two men crept silently toward the sound.Walegrin drew his sword, the first Enlibar sword to be forged in five hundredyears.

"You've got the money and the message?" they heard Balustrus say.

"Yessir."

Balustrus' crutches scraped along the broken stone. Walegrin and Thrusherflattened against the walls and let him pass. They'd never get the truth fromthe metal-master, but the messenger was another matter. They crept around thewall.

The stranger was dressed in dark clothes of unfamiliar style. He was adjustingthe stirrup when Walegrin fell upon him, wrestling him to the ground. Keeping afirm hand over the stranger's mouth and a tight hold on his arm, Walegrindragged him a short distance from his horse.

"What've we got?" Thrusher asked after a cursory check of the horse.

"Too soon to tell," Walegrin replied. He twisted the arm again until he felt hisprisoner gasp, then he rolled him over. "Not local, and not Nisibisi by thelooks of him."

The young man's features were soft, almost feminine and his efforts to freehimself were laughably futile. Walegrin cuffed him sharply then yanked him intoa sitting position.

"Explain yourself."

Terrified eyes darted from one man to the other and came to rest on Walegrin,but the lad said nothing.

"You'll have to give him a search, eh?" Thrusher threatened.

"Aye-here's his purse."

Walegrin ripped the pouch from the youngster's belt, noticing as he did that theyouth carried no evident weapon, not even a knife. He did, however, have somelarge heavy object under his jerkin. Walegrin tossed the purse to Thrusher andsought the hidden object. It proved to be a medallion, covered with a foreignseeming script. He had made nothing of the inscription before Thrusher yelpedwith surprise and a dazzle of light flashed between them.

As Walegrin looked up a second flash erupted. Their prisoner needed no more timeto effect his escape. They heard the youth mount and gallop off, but by the timeeither man could see clearly again the trail was already becoming mud.

"Magic," Thrusher muttered as he got to his feet.

Walegrin said nothing as he got his legs under him. "Well, Thrush-what else wasin that purse?" he asked after several moments.

Thrusher checked it cautiously again. "A small ransom in gold and this." Hehanded Walegrin a small silver object.

"One of the Ilsig links, by the look of it," Walegrin whispered. He looked backtoward the villa. "He's up to something."

"The magician wasn't Rankene," Thrusher offered in consolation.

"That only means we have new enemies. C'mon. It's time to find my sister. She'llmake at least as much sense as the metal-master."

The rain had kept the bazaar crowds to a minimum, but so close to the harborthere was fog, too, and Walegrin got them lost twice before he heard the soundof Dubro's hammer. Two mercenaries, a Whoreson pair by the look of them, waitedbeneath the awning. Dubro was mending their shield.

"You're putting in more dents than you're taking out, oaf," the younger, tallerof the pair complained, but Dubro went on hammering.

Walegrin and Thrusher moved closer without being noticed. A rope was tied acrossthe doorway, usually a sign that Illyra was scrying. Walegrin tried to find thescent of her incense in the air but found only the smell of Dubro's fire.

There was a scream and a crash from the inside. Dubro dropped his hammer andbumped into Walegrin at the doorway. A third Stepson yanked the rope loose andattempted, unsuccessfully, to bully his way past both Dubro and Walegrin. Thesmith's hands closed on the Stepson's shoulder. The other pair reached for theirweapons, but Thrusher already had his drawn. Everyone froze in place.

Illyra appeared in the doorway. "Just let them go, Dubro," she asked wearily."The truth hurts him more than you can." She noticed Walegrin, sighed andretreated back into the darkness.

"Lying S'danzo bitch!" the third Stepson shouted after her.

Dubro changed his grip and shook the small man. "Get out of here before I changemy mind," he said in a low voice.

"You haven't finished with the shield yet," the young one complained, but hiscompanions hushed him, grabbed the shield and hurried into the rain.

Dubro turned his attention to Walegrin. "One might expect you to be here whensomething like this happens."

"You shouldn't let her see men like that."

"He wouldn't," Illyra explained from the doorway. "But that's the only kind thatcomes anymore-for mongering and scrying. The Stepsons scare anything else away."

"What about the women you used to see? The lovers and the merchants?" Walegrin'stone was harsh. "Or did the S'danzo not give them back?"

"No, Migurneal was not untrue. It's the same everywhere. No woman would venturethis close Downwind anymore-and not many merchants either. They don't need me totell them their luck if they run afoul of the Sacred Band."

"And you need the money because of the babes?" Walegrin concluded, then realized

he didn't hear the normal infantile sounds.

Illyra looked away. "Well, yes-and no," she said angrily. "We needed a wetnurse-and we found one. But it's not safe for her or the babies here. They'rebullies. Worse than the hawk-masks were-those at least stayed in the gutterswhere they belonged. Arton and Lillis are at the Aphrodesia House."

It was not uncommon to foster a child at a well-run brothel where young womensold their milk. Myrtis, proprietor of the Aphrodesia, had an unquestionablereputation. Even the palace women kept their children in the Aphrodesia nursery.But fostering wasn't the S'danzo way and Walegrin could see Illyra had agreed toit only because she was scared.

"Have you been threatened?" he asked, sounding like the garrison office he hadbeen.

Illyra didn't answer, but Dubro did. "They make threats everytime she tells themthe truth. She tells them they're cowards-and their threats prove it. 'Lyra'stoo honest; she shouldn't answer the questions men shouldn't ask."

"But I'll answer your questions now, Walegrin," she offered, not facing herhusband.

The incense holders were still scattered across the carpets. Her cards had beenthrown against the wall. Walegrin watched while she set her things in order andseated herself behind the table. She had recovered from the birth of the twins,Walegrin judged. There was a pleasant maturity in her face but otherwise she wasthe same-until she took up the cards again.

"What do you seek," she asked.

"I have been betrayed, but I am still in danger. I wish to know whom I shouldfear most and where I might be safe."

Illyra's face relaxed into unemotional blank-ness. Her expressionless eyesstared into him. "The steel brings enemies, doesn't it?"

Though he had seen her in scrying trances before, the change chilled Walegrin.Yet he believed totally in her gifts since she had read the pottery fragmentwhich had led him to the ore. "Yes, the steel brings enemies. Will it be thedeath of me? Is it the final link in a S'danzo forged chain?"