“Who is being disciplined?” asked Tier. They wouldn’t pick him, he thought; they were too smart for that. They didn’t need a martyr, they needed an example.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Collarn,” he said. “Or maybe Kissel or Toarsen. But Collarn if they’re smart. If they hurt Toarsen, Kissel won’t stand for it. If they hurt Kissel, Toarsen will go to his brother—and Avar has enough friends, including the Emperor, to hurt the Path. Collarn has no close friends except for me, and he’s the kind of person that people expect bad things to happen to. When it does, it won’t disturb the Passerines much.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Myrceria softly. “I like Collarn. He has a vicious tongue when he wants to, but he’s always polite to the people who can’t defend themselves.”

Tier heard the grief in her voice. “This is more than a caning or a beating,” he said.

“All of the boys are forced to participate in the Disciplining in some way—and the punishment can be anything,” she said. “Telleridge is very creative. Whipping is the most common, but some of the others are worse. One boy they forced to drink water… he passed out, and I think he died. They poured water on his face while he choked and gagged. And when he stopped, they just kept pouring.”

“Can you make sure I know about it before it happens?” he asked.

She kept her eyes averted, but nodded quickly. “If I know in advance. I don’t always.”

“Can you get word to Collarn?” If they could warn him…

“Tomorrow,” she said after a moment. “I have to do it myself—I can’t trust any of the girls with a message like that. And I can’t leave the Path’s rooms anymore than you can. Tomorrow should be soon enough.” She spoke those words quickly, as if she could make it true just by saying so. “It should take a day or two for them to arrange to get word to everyone anyway.”

“Right,” he said. “Tell him to find a reason to leave town for a week.”

She nodded, started to get up to leave, but then settled back, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Would you play something for me? Something cheerful so I can sleep?”

He was tired, but she was tired, too, and no more than she could he have slept—not with the knowledge that the Masters had decreed that one of his boys was going to suffer for what Tier had done.

“I’m not going to sleep anytime soon either,” he said. “Music would be nice.”

He sat on the other end of his bed and started to tune his lute again. He’d just finished bringing the second course of strings in accord with the rest, when the door opened unexpectedly.

Tier’d grown used to the respectful knocks of his captors—even Phoran knocked. It was too early for a visit from Phoran. Tier opened his mouth for a reproval but stopped, shocked dumb when Lehr entered the room wearing Tier’s own sword.

Joy lit Lehr’s face, then dimmed a bit when he looked past Tier and saw Myrceria. He made a move to block the door—perhaps Tier thought with a touch of amusement that threaded past his astonishment, to allow Tier to assume a less compromising position. Did Lehr actually think that his father would take a leman?

But the door popped open wider before Lehr could reach it, and Jes took two full strides into the room. The comfortable temperature of the room plummeted until Tier could see his own breath, and Myrceria let out an abortive squeak.

Tier got to his feet slowly, because it was never smart to move too quickly around Jes in this mode, and opened his arms. Jes’s glance swept the room comprehensively. But he apparently didn’t see anything too threatening in Myrceria because he took two steps forward and wrapped his arms around Tier.

“Papa,” he breathed as the room warmed. “Oh, Papa, we thought we’d never find you.”

“Of course you did.” A woman’s voice, deep, rich, and beloved filled the room like the sound of a cello. Tier looked over Jes’s shoulder to see his wife enter. “Ever since Hennea told us that he’d been taken alive. Are you well?”

Seraph looked so much like the empress-child he’d first met that it made him smile. An ice princess, his sister had called her with contempt. Being a straightforward person herself, Alinath had never seen that the cool facade could hide all manner of emotions that Seraph chose not to share.

“I’m fine,” Tier said, and seeing that she was not going to run into his arms immediately, he continued speaking, “and much happier than I was a few minutes ago. Lehr, come here.”

Lehr had grown in the months since he’d seen him last, Tier thought, hugging him tightly. So had Jes for that matter; his oldest son was a little taller than Tier now.

“We missed you,” said Lehr, returning his hug.

“I missed you, too.” He held him for a moment more.

“Lehr killed some people,” said Jes. “He saved Mother.”

Lehr stiffened in his arms, but Tier merely hugged him tighter. “I’m sorry, son,” he said. “Killing another man is not something that should rest easily on your shoulders.”

When he stepped back at last, he looked at Seraph, who’d stayed by the open door. “Is Rinnie out there, too?”

As was her habit with him, she answered the real question he asked. “She’s safe with your sister. Frost, it seems, was the only family casualty of this mess—though we were quite worried about you until just now.”

“They killed Frost?”

She nodded, “To make it look as if the both of you had walked into one of the Blighted Places. We might have believed it if a cousin of mine hadn’t straightened us out.”

She hadn’t looked at Myrceria, but he knew that she didn’t have any cousins. She must have met another Traveler.

“It’s not safe for your cousins here,” he warned.

She smiled like a wolf scenting prey. “Oh they know that,” she said. “I just hope these solsenti of the Secret Path choose to try their tricks again.” Her tongue lingered on “Secret Path,” making it sound childish and stupid, which, of course, it was.

“You know about the Secret Path?” he said.

“We know about the Secret Path,” said Lehr. “They’re killing Travelers and stealing their Orders.”

“What?” said Tier, looking at Seraph.

She nodded. “They take them from the dying Traveler and place them in a stone that they wear on jewelry so that they can use them.”

“How did you find out so much?” he asked.

“Hennea told us,” said Jes helpfully.

“My cousin,” agreed Seraph.

“They have someone in Redern who has been watching our whole family,” said Tier.

“Not anymore,” said his wife coolly.

“Mother killed him.” Jes had found a perch on top of a small table and was playing with the vase that had occupied the table first.

Tier glanced back at Myrceria. “I told you they’d be sorry if they ever ran afoul of my wife. Myrceria, I’d like you to meet my family. My wife, Seraph; my eldest son, Jes; and my youngest son, Lehr. Seraph, Jes, Lehr, this is Myrceria, who has helped make my captivity bearable.”

Jes nodded with the shy manner that characterized him in front of strangers, Lehr made a stiff bow, and Seraph turned on her heel and walked out the door.

Lehr’s smile died, so Tier took a moment to explain to him. “She knows me too well to think I’ve taken a mistress after all these years—as you should. Myrceria is an ally, so be polite. I need to take a moment with your mother.”

He followed Seraph and closed the door behind him softly. Seraph was studying the stone wall of the hall as if she’d never seen stone laid upon stone before. They were safe enough, he thought. Anyone who walked down this hall was coming to see him—and at this hour that meant one of the Passerines. There was time, so he waited for her to show him what she needed from him.

“There is death magic in these stones,” she said. She didn’t sound as if it bothered her.

“They’ve been killing people for a long time,” he said. “There’s a message awaiting you in Redern telling you that I’m still alive. It should have gotten there by now.”