"Justice was not your thought," Alyzza sniffed. "You were thinking of revenge. You want, more than anything, to be the instrument of his death."

"Yes," Tris whispered, closing his eyes and bowing his head. "You're right. Goddess help me, I do."

"You must decide," Alyzza said archly. "No good can come of vengeance. If that is what you seek, then the dark magic will consume you and you will work such evil that their deaths are trifling by comparison," she said, her hands twitching within her robes. "But there is another way."

"Tell me," Tris begged, raising his head.

"Let go of your family," Alyzza hissed. "Even you cannot bring them back." She placed a hand across his shoulders, and her sleeve brushed his throat. "There is a greater evil at work in the Winter Kingdoms than their deaths. Fight against it. If you permit the darkness to fill you, you will be consumed."

Carina watched wide-eyed as Tris buried his face in his hands. "Goddess Bright," he swore, his voice choked. "Help me," he begged. "I want so badly to punish him... By the Virgin and Whore, if you could have seen how they died." He dragged his sleeve across his eyes. "And now, Kait's spirit..."

"Alyzza, is this necessary?" Carina began, but the crone waved her still.

"In all things there is a time to decide," the witch rasped, her lips almost touching Tris's ear. "All of your roads branch from this moment. Choose."

"Sweet Mother and Childe, help me," Tris gasped. "I cannot... will not... be like that."

"Very good. You speak the truth," Alyzza said, straightening, and as she removed her arm from across Tris's shoulders, he could see the gleam of a knife blade in her palm.

"What?" Carina asked in shock as Tris's eyes widened. "You had that at his throat," the healer whispered.

Alyzza nodded soberly, sheathing the knife once more in the voluminous folds of her robe. "Aye. And even the most powerful mage could not have stopped it from slitting him ear to ear."

"Why?" Carina gasped.

"Because I could not let him live had he chosen darkness," Alyzza replied matter-of-factly. "Now, let's get on with our lessons," she said, settling her robes around her.

" Identify yourself!" Soterius challenged the darkness, as the hoof beats drew closer at the perimeter of the camp.

"By the Whore," Vahanian cursed as he stopped his horse just within view. "Just let me get to bed." He dismounted and stumbled, nearly falling.

"Let me go," he growled as Cam and Soterius rushed forward. Vahanian knew there was no hiding his injuries. Blood caked his right leg, seeping from beneath a makeshift bandage. His face was bruised, his lip split and, from the feel of it, one eye was beginning to purple. From the way it hurt to breathe, Vahanian knew the guardsman's staff had broken a few ribs.

"I'll get Carina. Help him back to his tent," Cam offered, rousing another guard to take his watch as Soterius slipped his shoulder under Vahanian's arm.

"No, don't do that..." Vahanian protested, his voice trailing into a weak curse as Cam disappeared.

"Not too anxious to be healed, Jonmarc?" Soterius chuckled. Vahanian groaned, resigning himself to his fate and accepting the help Soterius offered.

"I wouldn't mind the healing if it didn't come with an opinion," he muttered darkly.

"You know, Carina doesn't do that to just anyone," Soterius replied. "I've found her to be quite pleasant. And she gets along very well with Tris," he added. "Very well." "Oh yeah? How did I get so lucky?" "Don't know. Maybe she likes you." "You've got a real sense of humor," Vahanian replied, attempting not to limp and then giving up the effort. "That's as likely as a visit by the Goddess herself."

"Stranger things have happened," Soterius laughed. "Of course, it's always possible that you just annoy the hell out of her."

"More likely," Vahanian replied. "Much more likely."

They reached Vahanian's tent and Vahanian eased himself onto his bed. Soterius found a lantern and soon, Vahanian had light sufficient to survey his injuries. "Meet up with an old friend?" Soterius asked.

Vahanian shifted and winced. "An old business acquaintance, if you really want to know," he said, using both hands to straighten out his wounded leg and pulling at the bandage to expose the deep knife gash beneath. Soterius poured water into a pitcher and reached for a clean rag. He wrung it out and handed it to Vahanian, who began to dab gingerly at the wound, cleaning away the worst of the caked blood.

"There are easier ways to settle accounts," Soterius replied, leaning back against a tent post. "Like changing your name, for starters."

"Very funny," Vahanian replied dryly. He tore the cloth back from his wound and dabbed at it again. Soterius reached under the cot, rummaging until he found a flask of brandy and a cup, and poured Vahanian a long draught.

"How'd you know where it was?" Vahanian asked, licking the strong brandy from his lips.

Soterius shrugged. "Didn't figure you'd travel without it, and since I didn't see it, where else would it be?"

Vahanian chuckled. "Has anyone ever told you you're smarter than you look?" he jibed.

"Funny, I've heard the same about you."

From beyond the tent, they could hear footsteps and Carina's voice. "This is what you interrupted us for, Cam?" Carina protested, stopping in front of the tent. "What was it? A tavern brawl? Sell some bad brandy to a guard? Knife in the back from a lady friend?"

"Look, he's hurt bad," Cam said in his most persuasive voice, and without even seeing them, Vahanian could imagine Cam mustering his best boyish grin to win over Carina. He didn't need to see Carina to imagine her response.

"I'll bet Jonmarc sent you because he knew what I'd say if he came himself," Carina said darkly. "Didn't he?"

"Come on, Carina," Cam wheedled engagingly. "I know you two don't always see eye to eye. But look at it this way—you'd heal one of the horses, even if it nipped, wouldn't you?"

"That's going too far," Vahanian muttered. "I've gotten over worse, without help," he said, scowling. Returning his attention to his leg, he dripped a few drops of brandy into the wound, then stiffened, gritting his teeth with an expression that drew a chuckle from Soterius.

"Give up, Jonmarc," Soterius said. "Nothing can save you now."

They heard running bootsteps as a third person joined Cam and Carina. "What happened?" Maynard Linton puffed. "The guard sent word that Jonmarc came in looking like he'd been dragged by a wagon. Oh good, Carina, you're already here. Come on," and with that, Maynard pushed into the tent, pulling Carina by the wrist, with Cam bringing up the rear, a bemused smile on his face.

"Goddess of Light, Jonmarc," Maynard exclaimed, shaking his head as he took in Vahanian's state. "What did you stir up this time?"

"Just a little friendly conversation," Vahanian deadpanned. Even Carina's disapproval softened as she surveyed the extent of his injuries.

"Lie down," she said dryly. He winced as he leaned back on his elbows, then lowered himself onto his back. Carina frowned as she examined the gash in his leg, motioning Cam to bring the lantern closer. Cam handed her the bag of medicines and poultices he carried from her tent, and she rummaged through it, selecting a handful of herbs and a vial of blue liquid.

"What happened, Jonmarc?" Linton asked as Carina began to work on Vahanian's leg.

"Like I said, I ran into someone I knew from a while ago—ouch!" Vahanian replied, stiffening as Carina poured a few drops of the blue liquid onto his wound. "What is that stuff, fire?"

"Not anything a mercenary of your renown should find troubling," Carina replied coolly, and Linton stifled a snicker.