"We should have no problem being hired on as extra guards," Vahanian reported. "There's been 'trouble' in the north, although no one would say exactly what. Bandits, for sure, that's part of it." He shook his head, pausing to bite into the rabbit Tris offered him. "But there's something more. Wouldn't be surprised if there was border trouble. There are some pretty wild clans out beyond the northern ridge who have always been hard to keep at bay."

He paused and stared at the fire. Harrtuck looked at him skeptically. "There's more you're not saying," the other soldier prodded. Vahanian shrugged.

"Just a funny feeling about what they did say," Vahanian admitted finally. "People are afraid, and some of the people in the tavern weren't the type who scare easily. I had the feeling there's some dark magic involved, or at least," he added, "people suspect it."

"That's just great," Soterius replied as he returned from the horses. "Bandits you can fight. We're not going to be any protection against magic."

Tris shifted uncomfortably as Vahanian gave him a pointed glance.

"If the tavern information was right," Vahanian continued, "the caravan's heading our way. We can wait for them to catch up to us," he said, "but our rations are running a little thin. Or," he added, "we can ride toward them. We'll backtrack, but once we find them we won't have to forage for provisions." He paused. "We'll just have to watch for guardsmen."

"Since I always vote with my stomach," Carroway said, "I say go looking for them."

Tris grinned at his friend's quick analysis. "It sounds reasonable."

"I'm glad you said that," Vahanian replied as Harrtuck chuckled. "Because riding suits me better than sitting around. We'll leave in the morning."

Late that night, when the fire burned down to embers, Tris wrapped his cloak closer around himself, ready for his turn on watch. It was unseasonably cold, and frost covered the leaves, chilling him to the bone. Despite the late hour and his aching muscles, Tris was wide awake as he awaited Vahanian's return from walking the camp perimeter. Finally, he came into view and Tris mustered his nerve as he rose to meet the mercenary.

"Goddess take anyone fool enough to be out on a night like this," Vahanian cursed, stomping wet leaves from his boots. His breath fogged in the chill air. "I don't envy you the next turn." "You look like you were in a fight." Vahanian shrugged. "There was someone out there. Tackled him once but he got loose, damn his soul." Vahanian shook his head. "Might have just been a bandit, but then again, could be a spy." He looked pointedly at Tris. "Keep your eyes open. He might be back."

"There's something I need to ask you, Jonmarc," Tris said as Vahanian turned back toward the camp.

"How about tomorrow, huh? I doubt I can get warm tonight, but I'd at least like to lie down."

"Teach me to fight."

Vahanian looked up at him, then paused a moment before answering. "Yeah, sure. You're going to have to learn if we're gonna earn our keep with a caravan."

"That's not what I mean. I need your help. Harrtuck says you're the best."

"Does he, now?" Vahanian chuckled. "Don't believe everything you hear." He paused. "Although, in this case, Harrtuck is right."

"Then you'll do it?"

Vahanian laughed harshly. "This isn't some high-priced salle and I'm not your fencing instructor. If I weren't this good, I'd have been dead a long time ago. I learned what I know one fight at a time. I can't teach that, and you can't learn it any other way."

"I want to kill the man who killed my family," Tris said, surprised how flat the words sounded when he actually brought himself to say them.

"And that will bring them back, right? Forget it. Nothing brings them back. Forget it and move on." "I can't bring them back, but I can stop Jared, make him pay for what he's done."

"All by yourself," Vahanian mocked. "Kill the beast, save the princess, be a real hero."

"That's not what I said."

"I've known a lot of heroes," Vahanian returned. "Buried them myself."

"I'd like a fighting chance. If you're so good, you could give me that."

"I don't give anything," Vahanian replied, turning away. "I'm paid. Well."

"Then I'll pay you. Double."

"Double?"

"Yeah, double. As soon as we get to Dhasson."

"Dhasson's a long way away," Vahanian replied skeptically. "You could be dead by then."

"So could you. Guess we'll both have to take our chances."

Vahanian smiled coldly. "Then you have a teacher. Be ready at dawn. Miss one day and the deal's off."

Tris nodded, feeling his stomach tighten.

"Good enough."

"Now let me get some sleep, will you?" Vahanian grumbled, heading toward the bed of pine branches he had fashioned earlier. "I've had enough for one day."

Tris watched him go, then drew a deep breath and headed out on his own patrol. He had the uneasy sensation that things were starting to come together, like being swept up in a swift current. Oh Kait, he thought. I'm sorry I let you down. He reached out in his mind in the darkness and felt a tingle of her familiar spirit, far away. Kait's spirit blurred, as if something powerful were holding it back. He felt a glimmer of her presence, and sensed her terror. The image was gone as quickly as it came, like a heavy door sealing out the light. Tris opened his eyes, shaking at the contact.

Something imprisoned Kait's spirit, something strong enough to keep her from coming at his summons, evil enough to frighten even the dead. The image of the glowing orb in Arontala's chambers flashed into his mind. The only way to free Kait's spirit would be to find the Soulcatcher and destroy the Obsidian King's soul. And the only way to do that lay in destroying Arontala.

At dawn, Tris nudged Vahanian with his boot.

"Go away," Vahanian grumbled, rolling over.

Tris nudged again, and Vahanian opened one eye and groaned. "It's dawn," Tris said, taking perverse delight in the mercenary's reaction. "Let's go."

With a curse, Vahanian grimaced and sat up. "All right, all right," he muttered. "There's a clearing over there," he said, pointing. "Let's go."

Tris followed him to the clearing, his hand already on his sword. When they reached the open space, Vahanian stopped, and folded his arms across his chest. "Draw your sword," the mercenary said, all traces of sleep gone. "Let me see your stance and grip."

Tris complied, and Vahanian circled him, appraising. "Not bad," the fighter said after a moment. "At least you've had some training."

"I need to know more than what they teach at the salle."

"Well, if you've figured that out, you're smarter by half than most of the aristocrats I've met," Vahanian muttered from behind him.

Tris had only the briefest warning, a rush of a sword slicing through the air. His reaction was more instinct than cunning as he wheeled, deflecting the blade at the last second, barely averting a nasty gash. The intensity of Vahanian's attack made Tris wonder if the mercenary truly meant to harm him, as Tris parried blow after blow. But the determination in Vahanian's eyes told Tris that the lessons had begun.

At the first clash of steel, a cry went up from the camp. Before Tris and Jonmarc had traded half a dozen blows, the others joined them at a run. While Vahanian's advance absorbed Tris's complete attention, out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Soterius's sword was at the ready, suspecting the worst.

"Just an early lesson," Vahanian called to them, and Tris realized as he wheeled to parry that Vahanian was not even out of breath. On the other hand, Tris thought ruefully, it was taking his complete concentration to avoid getting hurt.

Vahanian's sword whistled past Tris's ear. Tris felt his heart pounding as he parried, knocking the blade away. If I Jive through my first lesson, I might learn something, Tris thought, clearing sweat-soaked hair from his eyes.