"Then make the right one," Byrd argued. "I know who to see and what questions to ask. And someone has to stay here, in case they make it back."

Leesil remained poised to force his way past Byrd. His father's old "friend" was right, which only angered him more.

"Then go," he said.

Byrd left, and Leesil reluctantly latched the door behind him.

When dusk finally came, anxiety turned to panic, and Leesil paced through the common room. Twice he found himself leaning on the bar, staring over it at the wine and ale casks behind. He was on the verge of grabbing his cloak again when he heard a creak from the kitchen. He jerked the doorway curtain aside as Byrd came through the back door alone.

"Where are they?" Leesil asked.

"Calm down," Byrd said, but his stoic expression had no such effect. "I can't get a straight answer from any of my contacts, but there's been gossip among the townsfolk about a skirmish near the bridge. Soldiers chased a tall woman and a wolf through an eastside tavern. No one knows what happened after that."

"What?" Leesil grabbed Byrd by his thick wool vestment, and anger and fear made his stomach burn. "You're the one who was all for her going to Darmouth!"

Byrd's expression darkened as he tried to pull away and step past.

Leesil shoved him back. Too many things had gone wrong since they'd come to Venjetz. For all Byrd's cunning-plotting against Darmouth and still serving him, allied with the anmaglahk yet still alive and unsuspected-why did this man always know so little when it mattered most?

The back door slammed open, and Magiere and Chap rushed in.

Her hair had broken loose from its thong, and both she and Chap panted from exertion. Leesil released Byrd and grabbed Magiere in his arms. She let him hold her for a moment and then pushed him back. Her face was smudged, and her clothes marred with dirt and strands of hay.

"They took Wynn," she said. "You were right. It was a trap… and they caught her instead of me."

Leesil hadn't thought of Wynn amid his relief over Magiere's return. "How long ago?"

Magiere shook her head. "Not long after we left. We had to run, and I sent her the other way, thinking the soldiers would follow me. I heard her call out but couldn't go back for her."

Chap's sudden growl startled Leesil. The dog wrinkled his jowls, half exposing clenched teeth as he inched toward Byrd. When Leesil lifted his eyes again, he found Magiere's irises had flooded black.

"You two-faced bastard!" she snarled, and lunged around Leesil.

Leesil heard the crack of her fist before he could turn his head. Byrd reeled into the kitchen's hearth, then pivoted around, raising heavy fists before Magiere closed again.

"You sold us out!" Magiere shouted.

Leesil grabbed Magiere's waist but only slowed her enough for Byrd to shift out of her reach. Chap circled around the table's other side, blocking Byrd from reaching the kitchen doorway.

Byrd's innkeeper persona vanished. All emotion drained from his face, and the blinks of his eyes came further apart as his gaze hardened upon Magiere. He slid his left foot slightly back so that he was angled well enough to charge at either Magiere or Chap. Byrd slipped his right hand behind his back where Leesil had once seen the man pull out an infighter's fist-knife from under his shirt.

"Darmouth is strangling my people," he said, "but I wouldn't give you up to him. It would gain me nothing."

"How else would he know?" Magiere continued shouting. "Wynn is Darmouth's prisoner. And you're in league with those murdering anmaglahk. I won't swallow any more of your lies!"

Byrd held his guard, watching Magiere and Chap, but his answer was to Leesil. "I told you before, my goals have nothing to do with you."

"Faris knows about Leesil," Magiere continued. "He may even know where Leesil is… and that means Darmouth knows. Why else would his men try to take me, except to get to Leesil?"

Leesil didn't know how Magiere had learned all she knew, but events were starting to add up. He'd halfheartedly tried to believe that Byrd wasn't using him-yet. He'd dragged Magiere, Chap, and Wynn into danger. Even when he'd wanted to get them out again, he'd given in to their risky plans on the thin hope of finally learning what had happened to his parents. And Byrd was the one who'd pushed for that plan to proceed.

Leesil ached inside as he felt his past bleeding into the present. His selfish weakness had put Wynn into Darmouth's hands. But there was also more at stake than a search for two long-missing people. Much more.

"You think killing Darmouth will help anyone here?" Leesil asked, now that Byrd was forced to listen. "You'll start a bloodbath. The other provinces and even his own officers will tear one another apart to take his place. Are you prepared for 'your people' to get caught in the middle? Warlords and petty tyrants fighting each other at the front gates of Venjetz? You're deluded if you think you can stop it. As bad as things are, Darmouth holds this province together."

Before Byrd answered, someone rattled the inn's front door as if trying to open it. Loud banging followed. Byrd started for the curtained doorway, but Chap snarled until he stopped.

"We're getting Wynn back," Magiere said. "And you're going to help."

"And if she dies," Leesil added to Byrd, "so do you."

Magiere glanced his way. Even with irises deeply black, Leesil saw her anger falter.

"I need to see who's come," Byrd replied flatly, unaffected. "It might be news of your friend."

Leesil hesitated, then motioned Chap out of the way. The dog reluctantly backed up and Byrd headed out. Leesil followed to the curtain, watching through the crack.

Byrd paused at the front door with his hand on the latch. "Who's there?"

"Baron Emel Milea," a muffled voice answered. "I have a message for someone here."

Byrd unlocked the door, and a slender man stepped inside. His open cloak exposed a green tunic and a straight saber sheathed on his hip.

Leesil knew him.

Older now, with thinning hair, this red-haired nobleman had chased him through the forest beyond the city walls. Eight years ago, Leesil had barely eluded the baron among the night trees. He also remembered Emel leading the mount of a young girl given to him by Darmouth-an orphaned fifteen-year-old girl. Hedi, the only survivor of Leesil's first service to Darmouth, had been Emel's reward for constant loyalty.

"You are the proprietor?" the baron asked.

Byrd nodded.

Tentatively, Baron Milea held out a folded parchment. Byrd took it and, upon opening the first fold, stopped to read something. He then opened the sheet completely and read further what was written on the parchment's full page. The barest hint of surprise crossed his features.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Lady Progae. She is held at the keep… for her protection. Explain what this is about."

"Leesil, Magiere," Byrd called. "Get out here."

Leesil pushed the curtain aside, and Magiere and Chap followed him into the common room. Clover Roll perched on a table and only blinked as Chap passed by. At the sight of Leesil, Emel's mouth opened slightly.

"You?" he breathed.

"This is Baron Emel Milea." Byrd gestured toward his guest. "He brought us something interesting."

"I know who he is," Leesil answered with a glare. "Lady Progae- Hedi Progae-is your mistress."

Magiere glanced at him in alarm. Perhaps she remembered the name Paris had spoken before Leesil's night of madness.

Baron Milea nearly snorted in disgust. "Do not feign concern for her welfare. I can guess what you are."

Leesil jerked a stiletto from his left wrist. "You won't have to guess."

"Both of you stop it!" Byrd stepped between them, but it was Leesil he faced. "Magiere, make him see some sense… if you want to help your little sage."