She realized her voice was rising with every word, and she quickly lowered it so as not to draw outside interest. “I can’t sew. I hate serving in taverns. I have no learning or talent. I cannot be a witch, and I won’t be a berserker. There is little left for someone like me in Immilmar. How can I make you understand?” She ended her tirade and leaned against the mare, breathing heavily.

“I am trying to understand,” Kanlara replied sadly. “But please stop before something happens to you. I couldn’t bear to lose you. You are the only family I have.”

Something in Kanlara’s tone rang true to Teza. Nonplused, she left the mare’s stall and walked into the next without looking.

To Kanlara, the stall looked empty. But Teza found more than she bargained for. Her foot caught on something solid and heavy on the stall floor, and she stumbled forward into the manger. “By Mask! What is that?” she gasped. She squatted down and pushed the straw off a dark form.

Kanlara hurried in and the two women knelt together in the straw. They carefully rolled the form over onto its back. The strong smell of fresh blood filled their nostrils. Their hands slipped in the warm, dark fluid that covered the man’s neck and chest.

“Oh, gods, he’s been stabbed,” Kanlara cried. “We must get some help. Run to the inn and have someone summon the guards.”

“What?” Teza yanked her hands away and frantically wiped them on cleaner straw. “The guards,” she hissed, appalled at the very suggestion. “Don’t be a fool. We have to get out of here, now!”

Kanlara stiffened. “There’s been a crime committed,” she said firmly. “We have to report it.”

“Like the Abyss we do. One look at us, sneaking around where we don’t belong, blood all over our hands, and they’ll arrest us without a blink.” She grabbed her friend’s arm to pull her to her feet. “Come on!”

Kanlara yanked free. “Don’t be ridiculous, Teza. There is nothing here to tie us to this. We simply found the body.”

“You are so naive. I have lived in the thieves’ world all my life. I know how this will look to the Elders. We must go…now!”

A sudden call outside the door brought Teza to her feet like a panicked horse. “Kanlara,” she begged, “please! He’s a fyrra, a lord. Look at his clothes. We are riffraff to him, and the guards are not well known for their far-reaching intelligence. They will convict us on the spot.”

Footsteps crunched on the snow outside.

“Kanlara, come on!” Teza cried one last time.

The wizardess stood still, staring down at the dead man, then she lifted her eyes to Teza’s. Before either could react, someone pushed open the wide front door. Lanternlight spilled into the stable.

Teza’s will broke. Like a fox bolting for cover she whipped around the stall door and fled silently into the shadows and out the back door. She did not hesitate a step until she was well back into the trees. Belatedly, she slowed. She turned, against all her instincts, and angled toward the road and the front of the inn. Through the trees she could hear the uproar of voices and the blare of a horn as a guard signaled to his captain.

The sounds of authority approaching and the noise of the angry crowd were more than Teza wanted to face. Let Kanlara handle it. She could explain far better than Teza. The guard would question her and let her go. Teza decided to go home and wait. Kanlara would surely be along soon.

But she wasn’t.

By midmorning the next day, Kanlara still had not returned and Teza had paced and worried to the point of nausea. As angry as Kanlara probably was, if she was able, she would have come back by that time.

Just before noon Teza tied her hair into a tight braid, piled it up on her head, and pulled a loose fur hat over the whole thing. She dressed in a pair of men’s pants and boots and strapped a dagger to her side. Her smooth cheeks were dusted with a shadow of charcoal dust and, to finish off her disguise, she added a false mustache carefully crafted from horse hair. It was a disguise she had used successfully before and one few in Immilmar had seen. With luck it would get her safely where she wanted to go.

Teza hurried outdoors and strode just a few short blocks to the communal longhouse. The morning was overcast; the air cold and biting. Quite a few citizens were out on their daily business, and quite a few more were heading in the same direction as Teza, for the daily kohrtar, or charging of criminals, at the loughouse.

The squat longhouse sat on a short hill overlooking one of the main roads leading to the busy docks on the Lake of Tears. It was a large, if rather plain building used by the citizens of Immilmar for all the meetings of the Elders who ran the city, as well as gatherings of various guilds and parties. Every day at noon, or when needed, the Elders held the kohrtar to charge suspects of crimes and to hold trials for those already charged.

Teza knew if Kanlara had been arrested for the murder that she would be brought before the judges this noon. Keeping quiet, Teza mingled with the crowd moving through the open doors. Obviously, word of the murcler had already spread through the city, and curious onlookers were coming to have a look. The young woman squeezed into an open space by the back wall and waited, her heart in her throat.

In just a few minutes a Fang guardsman slammed his sword on his shield to signal the arrival of the Elders. The noisy room fell silent. At the far end of the long room, three Elders practiced in the rudiments of Rashemi law (and law in Rashemen was rather rudimentary), entered and took their seats at a table placed on a dais. A fyrra, wearing the emblem of the Vrul clan stood to one side, his hawk glance fastened intently on the proceedings.

A second Fang guard read the day’s charges from a roll of parchment. Several minor infractions were quickly dealt with by imposing fines or several days in the Iron Lord’s dungeon.

At last the guard announced, “For the murder of the Lord Gireth StoneHamtner of the Vrul Clan we hold the outlander, Kanlara. She was found beside the body with blood on her hands. Although she claims innocence and, as yet, no weapon has been found, the court feels there is enough evidence to try her.”

A shock of guilt and fear jolted through Teza. “This can’t be,” she groaned. But she had predicted it herself.

At the sound of the sword clashing on the iron embossed shield, Kanlara was led in between two more armed guards. Her bright red hair stood out like a lick of flame among the black-haired Rashemaar.

Teza stared at her friend’s face and she felt her hands begin to shake. Kanlara’s beautiful features were slack; her bright gaze dulled. She walked with the stiff, uncaring motions of a lich between her two guards, going where they pushed her, stopping when they pulled her to a halt.

“The sewer scum,” Teza spat. “They’ve put a feeblemind spell on her.”

“Of course,” said the woman beside her. “She’s an outland wizardess. It’s a wonder she’s been allowed to stay here at all. Usually the Witches send other magic-wielders running for the border.”

“Yes, and look what happened-one of our own murdered. There’s good reason for keeping strange wizardesses out of Rashemen,” observed a second bystander.

Teza bit her lip hard to keep back a retort. She did not dare draw any more attention to herself. Instead she left the wall and pushed a little closer to the front where she could see Kanlara better. The wizardess’s face was pale and her dress was torn and stained with blood. Bruises discolored her wrists where guards had tied her hands with too much enthusiasm.

The horse thief thrust her hands into her pockets and clenched her fingers into tight fists. Not once in her ill-begotten life had someone she loved suffered the consequences of her actions. Now, the thought that she might lose her friend because of her own cowardice hurt more than she ever believed possible. If she had only stayed with Kanlara to talk to the guards…