"I want you to take Hedi and Korey north for me," he said quietly. "To the fief of Lord Geyren. His people know us and will protect them for me."

Magiere pulled away from Wynn to sit up on the log again. "What about you?" i am staying. You were wise to leave Omasta alive. I will try to get him to listen."

"Are you mad?" Magiere said a little too loudly. "He'll execute you on sight."

"I do not think so. Lord Geyren is in Venjetz even now. He's young but a good man, and we can both give credence that Omasta is Darmouth's son. Most of the soldiers will be desperate for someone to follow-anyone with a true claim as heir. If we act quickly and keep our heads, we might avoid civil war and stand against what comes at us from outside our borders."

Wynn sat upright. "Omasta is Darmouth's son? How many know of this?"

"Not many, but enough. Most of the officers."

"Careful, Emel," Magiere warned. "Make certain Omasta learns all this before you get near him. I suppose he's preferable to his father. And you might curtail a civil war."

She looked over at Leesil, wondering whether he'd heard them.

"Both of you get some sleep," she said. "Emel… you, Hedi, and Korey take one tent. We'll take the other. Go on to bed, Wynn. We'll be along soon."

Wynn nodded. She left Magiere the blanket and followed Emel to the tents.

Magiere sat by the fire awhile longer, watching Leesil. She finally got up and headed through the camp. As she passed Chap, still pacing, the dog whined and huffed twice. She crouched and put her arms around his thick neck, then leaned her head into his.

"I know," she whispered. "You lost Nein'a and Gavril, just as Leesil has."

Chap pulled away, snapping out two sharp barks for "no."

Magiere didn't know how to make Chap accept the loss. Or how she could deal with Leesil's grief in the face of what he'd done in that crypt.

She stood up and headed for the tree, coming up beside it to look down at a man she still loved but was no longer certain she truly knew. She knew only that when he suffered, she suffered as well.

Magiere sank down along the tree. She reached over to grasp his face, and leaning close, held his head to hers. Then she gently touched the bundle he held.

"I am sorry," she whispered, "for this."

Leesil trembled. He buried his face into Magiere's neck in silence. She felt his tears against her skin as they ran down across her collarbone.

Chap watched Magiere hold Leesil while the half-elf trembled in small, steady intervals. Chap's anger grew upon one name stuck in his mind.

Brot'an'duive… Brot'an… the elder Anmaglahk in the crypt.

Chap could recall any memory he had seen and bring it back to the surface of the owner's mind. A crude way to communicate-or influence-that gave Leesil fits of anger. But he could not give the memories of one person to another, and Brot'an's memories had revealed much.

For the first time Chap truly longed for the power of speech. Elvish was more subtle and useful than Belaskian, but there was so much to relate. A frustrating amount depended on Wynn's translation. Even attempting to explain the truth would require a long night of pawing at the hide.

Brot'an had triggered Leesil's vengeance with a lie.

Chap padded softly up behind the tree, drawing ever closer to Magiere and Leesil. Before either noticed him, he swerved around the trunk and snatched the bundled cloak in his teeth. With a quick lunge, he jerked it from Leesil's arms.

Magiere sucked in a sharp breath. "What are you doing?"

Leesil gasped and clawed after the bundle, but Chap dragged it beyond reach. He shook the cloak until the skulls fell out upon the forest floor and then set his front paws around the one of the elven female.

"Give them back!" Leesil cried.

Chap snarled and added a loud snap of his jaws.

Magiere grabbed Leesil about the waist and pulled him back, staring at the dog in shock. Chap locked his gaze on Leesil's eyes and called forth memories of Nein'a, one after another. He sharply barked twice for "no" as he nosed the skull of the female elf.

"Stop it!" Leesil shouted, and curled into Magiere's arms, cringing under the assault of memories.

Chap could not stop. Leesil had to understand.

When Chap locked gazes with Brot'an in the crypt, the scars on the elder elf's face confused him at first. Brot'an had had no scars on the long-ago night he accompanied Eillean carrying a young Chap across the cold mountains. Disjointed memories twisted through the elf's mind like autumn leaves caught in a whirlwind. And like catching those leaves in the order they fell from the trees, it had taken time for Chap to understand all that he saw therein.

Brot'an had been there eight years ago, the night Nein'a and Gavril fled from the keep…

Eight years in the past, Brot'an'duive walked out of the Crown Range beside Eillean and entered the woodland foothills of Darmouth's province.

Aoishenis-Ahare, Most Aged Father, had grown impatient with Cuirin'nen'a and requested that she be returned. Brot'an and Eillean had been sent to Venjetz to bring her home-along with her half-blood son.

The request had been quick and sudden-with a hint of challenge.

Brot'an feared that Most Aged Father now questioned his allegiance and that of Eillean. He said as much to her once on the journey. Her reply was a glower laced with concern.

Disloyalty was unheard of in their caste. No Anmaglahk was ever doubted for the sacrifice each made in service to their people. Alone in faraway places, they relied on their own judgment to solve any complication in their assigned tasks. Brot'an knew he now walked a line as thin as a web's strand and half as fragile. There was no choice but to comply.

The journey was long, and passage through the mountains was bitter. Winter was not far off, and the return home through the hidden ways of the Crown Range would be worse. On the fifth night after entering the foothills of Darmouth's province, he stepped across the road running south to the gates of Venjetz. Amid the trees beyond, he quickly held out a hand for Eillean to stop.

Harsh footsteps moved fast and stealthless through the forest. He glanced at Eillean, saw that she heard them too, and they separated to hide within the forest's underbrush.

From out of the trees came Cuirin'nen'a and a human male, both sweat-soaked and breathless. Brot'an did not understand. Why and how had she run from the city straight to this happenstance meeting?

He stepped out in their way as Eillean reappeared at his side.

Cuirin'nen'a slid to a stop on the forest mulch, a pair of silvery stilettos clenched together in one hand. She stared at them, and her eyes settled upon Eillean as the human male looked frantically back the way they had come.

"Mother?" she said.

"Where is your son?" Eillean asked. "We must take both of you back with us."

Cuirin'nen'a fumbled for a reply. "No! Leesil must never come under Most Aged Father's influence."

"Why are you here?" her mother continued in demand. "Where is Leshil?

"Leesil is gone," the human answered. "And we are pursued!"

A grating snarl rose from among the trees, and a dark form leaped into view, followed by another.

The human shoved Cuirin'nen'a toward her mother. "Go!"

Two great cats with dark, shining coats prowled forward in the moonlight, each as large as a mountain lion. Their eyes fixed upon their prey, but they hesitated at the sight of Brot'an and Eillean.

Cuirin'nen'a's husband crouched with a stiletto in each hand, even as she twisted away from Eillean and separated her own blades. She tried to step in behind him.

Brot'an snatched her cloak and jerked her back toward the nearest tree. One cat leaped for her husband.