"That isn't what I meant."

Carina looked at him closely, as if taking his measure. "What you did... in the fire... using magic to throw that beam... Have you ever done that before?"

"No," Tris replied uncomfortably. "But my granny was a hedge witch." Tris begged the forgiveness of Bava K'aa's spirit for the gross understatement. "I need to learn... to understand... how to control my power before I kill someone, and how to block out the spirits before they drive me mad."

"Come inside," Carina said, gesturing for him to join her in her tent. He'r voice was brusque with exhaustion but not unkind, and Tris imagined that she was often besieged by questions from the curious. She motioned him to be seated and nudged a small clay teapot closer to the fire in the center of the tent floor. "Why do you think I can help you?"

"I don't know where else to go," Tris said, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "When I was young, my grandmother taught me some of her magic—like lighting a fire without a spark. But now, it's like a floodgate opened," he said, his growing desperation clear in his voice. "Every time I dream, I remember something else she taught me. I can feel the magic, but when I touch it, I'm not sure whether I'm using it or it's using me." He paused. "Carina, when did you know that you could do what you do?"

Carina paused before answering. "I think at some level, I've always known," she said quietly. "But I didn't start to train for it until after—" S he stopped abruptly. "Until I was in my teens."

"But how did you know?" Tris pressed, and she looked at him for a moment before she spoke.

"I just... knew," she answered quietly. "I can't describe it. Maybe it's different for different people. I felt the power, but I didn't know what it was for, or how to make it do anything. Then once, when my favorite horse was hurt, I was caring for him and I was thinking about what it would take to heal him, and things happened." She smiled. "Scared me half to death."

"How did you know where to go, to learn more?"

Carina's face hardened and she looked away. "That wasn't a problem," she answered, her tone cold. "It was taken care of."

"I'm sorry," Tris said gently. "I didn't mean to pry."

Carina shook her head. "It's all right; It's just that, where I come from, people are superstitious. They don't like mages." She gave a sad smile. "In fact, they like them even less than they like twins."

So that was why such a talented healer and an expert swordsman traveled with an obscure caravan, Tris thought.

"Look, Tris, there isn't anything else I can tell you," she said, uncomfortable, as if she'd said too much.

"It's not that simple," Tris said, shaking his head stubbornly. "When the bandits attacked, right before I got hit, I saw the bandits die," he said, the words tumbling out, "I saw their spirits rise up out of their bodies," he confessed in a whisper. "I thought I was going mad. It happened everywhere I looked, until one of the raiders smashed me over the head," he said, ruefully touching his wound.

Carina frowned, and Tris sensed that she was suddenly taking him seriously. "You saw... the spirits rising out of the bodies?" she repeated slowly.

"If you can teach me nothing else, teach me how to block it out," he begged. "Surely, you have to know how to block out pain to do your duties. Otherwise, I am no help to my friends and little use to the caravan."

"Have you spoken of this to anyone else?"

"About the battlefield? No," he said, looking down. "The friends I travel with—they know I have some power, but they have no idea how little I can control it. I haven't said anything else. People would think me mad. I think the hedge witch suspects."

"Yes," Carina said thoughtfully, "Alyzza would suspect," she said. "She was court sorceress for a minor noble when her powers failed to save the noble's only child. The child's death nearly drove her mad and the court no longer wanted her. And so, she is here," Carina said, gesturing to the fair beyond the tent. "Like all of us, somewhere we never expected to be." She was silent again, and just when Tris began to fear she was going to turn him out, she spoke.

"I will help you as much as I can," she said slowly. "I will ask Alyzza to help as well. But you must be careful," she warned. "Say nothing about your magic to anyone else. You might attract more interest than you desire."

"Thank you," Tris said, as he got to his feet.

Carina smiled sadly. "Why don't you wait to thank me until I've helped you?" she said. "Come back after your sword practice, if you have the strength."

Thoughts full of a hundred questions, Tris slipped outside the tent. "Just remember, I saw her first," a voice came at Tris's elbow. Ban Soterius gave him a wry grin. "I'll give you credit for courage, Tris," he added, "considering Cam's size. I wouldn't want to face him to come courting."

Tris gave Soterius a dry look. "With the way you change companions, I'd be scared if I were you, too."

Soterius grinned. "Just my way of spreading sunshine," he replied, slapping Tris on the back. "No reason to overwhelm one and make all the rest miserable. You could take a few pages from my book, you know." He lowered his voice con-spiratorially. "And now that you don't have any official entanglements to worry about, you're free to choose for yourself, no one's business but your own," he added.

"Remind me of that if we make it to Dhasson in one piece," Tris replied. "Really, Ban. That's been the furthest thing from my mind."

"I know," Soterius replied. "That's the trouble with you. Too serious. The right woman could lighten you up." He smiled wickedly. "Of course, so could the wrong woman."

Tris gave him a good-natured punch on the arm as they walked toward the main camp area.

Before the supper fires were lit, they were pressed into service on a variety of jobs dismantling the camp, and when Tris finally grabbed a trencher of dinner and found a place near a fire, he dropped wearily onto his log seat.

Harrtuck had promised that life on the road would toughen him up, Tris thought, and rubbed a sore muscle ruefully. Since they joined the caravan, Tris discovered that muscles he did not know existed could ache enough to keep him awake at night—loading and unloading tents, equipment and merchandise, straining with guy-ropes to erect the large tents and sledgehammer the stakes that supported them. And then, after he was already bone weary, sword practice with Vahanian. Tris sipped the mug of ale and wolfed down the rest of his stew. All of this activity might be the making of a swordsman, but it was likely to be the death of a prince. Carroway joined him looking equally exhausted. "I'm going to be dead long before we reach Dhasson," the minstrel complained, digging into his food. "If it's not a full day of entertaining for the audiences, it's this bloody sword work at night." Carroway stretched and groaned. "Are you sure Vahanian's not secretly out to get us?"

"Ready for tonight's practice?" Vahanian asked, dropping down beside them with a steaming trencher of food. The mercenary grinned as Tris groaned his reply.

"That excited, huh? Must be doing a good job then."

"Couldn't you at least look tired?" Carroway complained as he finished his ale.

"What's the point?" Vahanian replied with his mouth full. "Doesn't make any less work."

"No, but it would give me a lot of satisfaction," Tris answered. "Where are we going next?"

"Further north," came a reply from Tris's other side. "And if you ask me, it's a mistake."

Tris turned to see Kaine, looking tired and dirty. "Nothing but trouble up north." Kaine swigged his ale. "'Course, seems to be a lot of that goin' around, if you take my meaning," he said, with a sidelong glance at Vahanian.

"I'm not sure I do," Tris answered carefully.