Rashed stared at the north wall of the warehouse, clutching his throat tightly with one hand. He felt a cold numbness rush downward through his body. Years had passed since he'd felt pain, and its return amazed him. His thoughts clouded, fading away before they could completely form in his mind.

He stepped closer to the wall, and turned around to lean back against one of its timbers for support. The cold line across his throat ran all the way through to the back of his neck.

Teesha grabbed his arm, first gently, then her slender fingers squeezed.

"Rashed… what's wrong?"

"Teesha," he managed to whisper.

Her childlike hands grabbed his tunic firmly, steadying him. When he began to slump, he felt her arms shove him back up to his feet again. She was as strong… stronger than any man in the warehouse, though no one else knew this. She put an arm around his waist, supporting him, and hurried him out a side door away from suspicious eyes. Outside, he struggled to help her by remaining on his feet. He felt her hands touch his face, and he looked down into her worry-filled eyes.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Sorrow washed over him in a wave, and then anger. A white face with sunken eyes and cheeks glowed in the dark of his mind's eye. Then it snuffed out and vanished. He found himself staring out over the tops of buildings to the forest and skyline in the northeast.

"Parko's dead," he said in a hissing whisper, too shocked to speak loudly, too angered to voice it clearly.

Teesha's smooth brow wrinkled in confusion. "But how do you know this?"

He shook his head slightly."Perhaps because he was once my brother."

"You've never felt such a strong connection to him, even before he left us for the Feral Path."

Rashed lowered his eyes to hers, anger taking hold above all other sensations.

"I felt it. Someone cut his head off and… something wet… running water."

She stared at him, frozen in the moment, and through her hands he could feel the shudder run through her small frame. She quickly pulled her hands from his face, as if repulsed by what he'd described, then leaned her forehead against his chest.

"No. Oh, Rashed, I'm sorry."

His eyes lifted again toward the northeastern skyline, and a chill like cold water over living flesh washed through him again. It was unsettling in a forgotten way, as it had been decades since he'd felt anything akin to cold.

"We have to find out who did this. Where is Edwan?"

"He's nearby." Teesha closed her eyes for a moment. "My husband says he is sorry, too."

Rashed ignored the sympathies.

"Send him out. Tell him to find whoever did this and bring me a name. Tell him to look northeast." He raised his gaze inland again. "Tell him to hurry."

A soft glimmer wavered in the air near the two, almost nothing more than the light cast from a lantern's cracked shutter. Teesha's face turned in its direction and her lips moved as if speaking, but not a word was heard. The light vanished.

"We'll have to stop soon," Magiere said tiredly, running a hand across her face. "It's getting dark."

The sun was setting over the ocean off the coastal road of Belaski, illuminating the land with a dusky orange glow that made it appear less gloomy and hopeless than in full daylight. Leesil always liked dusk, and he stopped for a moment to watch the fading light over the water. The coastal road they followed south from Bela, the country's capital city, was reasonably fast and clear, much easier traveling than the five days' trek west out of Stravina.

It had been twelve days since the death of the mad villager, and Leesil had yet to ask any hard questions about what had really taken place that night on the shore of the Vudrask River. Magiere had provided scant details about what had happened to her and Chap. There still remained the puzzles of why Chap had attacked without orders, and why Magiere appeared so enraged and shaken. It was something beyond the killing of the villager. Neither of them broached the subject, even when they stopped at a village to purchase a donkey and cart to carry Chap-which should have raised questions about the reason for the dog's injuries. His wounds appeared mostly healed by then, but Magiere insisted he needed rest.

"Let's make camp," Magiere said.

Leesil nodded and strolled off the road. He watched Magiere run her hand across her forehead again, trying to push a few strands of hair dulled with road dust off her face. He knew she hated being dirty.

"Maybe we should slip down to the shore," he said. "Seawater's not the best bath in the world, but it'll do in a pinch. Though it's no good for washing out clothes, unless you like wearing salt crust."

She turned a suspicious glare on him. "Since when did you care about clean clothes?"

"Since always."

"Stop trying to humor me." She let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "I know what you want, and you'd better forget about it. We're not going to swindle even one more village. I'm through." She started to follow him off the road, then paused and looked back.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not sure." She shook her head. "Since dusk, I've had an odd feeling that someone is…" She trailed off.

"Someone is what?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired." She shrugged… "Don't put us too far from the road. It's too hard to get the cart through the brush."

Leesil's own cloak was beginning to feel thin in the rapidly cooling air, and he quickly chose a clearing in the trees. Magiere unpacked a dented cooking pot, loose tea, dried meat, and apples, while he cleared a space of ground and got a small fire going.

Despite his outer calm, his thoughts were still troubled. Once again, they had fallen into simple routine, going through daily motions without really talking, and there were several subjects beyond tonight's dinner that he wished to discuss.

"Do you need help getting Chap?" Magiere asked suddenly.

"No, he can walk on his own."

Leesil went to the cart and wrapped his slender, tan arms around the dog's neck. "Hey, there. Time to wake up and eat something."

"How is he?" Magiere called.

Chap's eyes opened instantly, and he whined before lifting his silver-gray muzzle to lick Leesil's face. He pulled free of Leesil's arms and hopped out of the cart, heading toward the cooking fire.

"See for yourself," Leesil answered. "And I think he's about as bored as he could get with riding in the cart."

Leesil always found her attitude toward Chap a bit odd. She never petted the dog and rarely spoke to him, but always made sure he ate and was well cared for with what little comforts could be offered. Leesil, on the other hand, enjoyed the dog's companionship immensely. But in the days before Magiere, Chap had often hunted up his own supper because his master simply forgot.

Leesil unhooked the donkey and tied it in an area with sufficient grass, then returned to the fire.

"We passed a side road half a league back," he said absently, taking a waterskin off the ground and pouring water into the cooking pot for tea. "Might lead off to a village."

"If you wanted to stop, you should have said something," Magiere answered just as casually.

"I didn't want to…" Finally angered by his partner's polite front, he snapped, "You know exactly what I mean! Maybe this isn't Stravina, but the nights are just as dark in peasant villages here. We're passing profit by for no reason other than you don't feel like working. You want to buy a tavern? Fine, but I don't see why we have to leave the game nearly coinless."

"I'm not coinless," Magiere reminded him.

"Well, I am!" Her serene attitude infuriated him. "I've only a share from one village, and you didn't give me any warning. If I'd known we were backing out, I would have made some plans."