"Maybe we shouldn't have left," Fayonne finally said, drawing her son's gaze. "Maybe we can never escape the curse. It was placed on our ancestors and they've passed it to us, and it's possible that no matter how far we go, we'll always carry it in our blood and in our magic. But no spell is perfect. We're far from the Companion Lakes, and we increase that distance every day. Mettai magic is blood magic, but it's also earth magic. Look around you, Mander."

He did, taking in the great expanse of the plain.

"Our blood may be the same, but this is different earth. Maybe the curse will be weaker here. Maybe that's why the Eandi soldiers were only wounded by the wolves."

The look on Mander's face told her that he hadn't considered this before. He nodded thoughtfully.

"We'll still have to be careful," he said.

Fayonne managed a smile. "Of course. But perhaps it can work to our advantage. The wolves killed those poor children, but they also killed white-hair warriors, even after the marshal told us to call them back. Without meaning to, we've brought the Curse of Rheyle to the Fal'Borna. Maybe it's a weapon we can use."

Clearly Mander hadn't considered this, either.

I should be tanning rilda skins," Cresenne said lazily, making no effort to leave the warmth of their blankets.

Grinsa had his arm around her, and her head rested on his shoulder. Their fingers were laced together.

"Maybe you should go then," he said, in the same languid tone. "Hmmm."

They kissed and then Grinsa lay back once more and closed his eyes. They had made love for much of the night, until their pent-up passion for each other was finally sated. They'd dozed off, awakened before dawn and made love once more, and then had fallen asleep again. Grinsa felt quite certain that the a'laq would be looking for him soon enough, but until then he had no intention of going anywhere.

Bryntelle was awake on her small pallet, chattering to herself. Occasionally she glanced Grinsa's way and let out a small laugh, as if she couldn't believe that her father was actually there.

Grinsa couldn't believe it, either.

He could hear voices outside the z'kal. Others had been up and about for some time now. And with war coming, he knew that the haven he and Cresenne had carved out for themselves over these few precious hours wouldn't last much longer.

He'd said as much to Cresenne the night before, when he told her that E'Menua had agreed to recognize the legitimacy of their joining, and that he had pledged himself to fighting alongside the Fal'Borna.

"I know that we're not part of their clan," he had said. "Not really, at least. But I couldn't-"

She held a finger to his lips, then kissed him. "I know," she whispered. "I expected no less. I don't want to stay here, and I don't like E'Menua, but if the Eandi attack these people, I'll fight, too." Suddenly her brow furrowed and a slight smile touched her lips. "He's willing to accept that I'm your wife?" she asked, as if finally realizing what Grinsa had said moments before.

He smiled. "Yes."

"How did you get him to agree to that? I thought he'd go to Bian's realm thinking of me as your concubine."

"Well, he might. But he understands now that he can't control me with magic or threats. And he knows that I'm capable of humiliating him in front of all his people if he tries."

"Grinsa, you don't want to make him afraid of you," she said, clearly unnerved by this. "That's every bit as dangerous as making him angry. If he thinks you're a threat to him, he'll find a way to kill you."

"It'll be all right. He's not going to kill me. He's not even going to make the attempt."

"You don't know what he's capable of doing. He's… cruel. He likes to control people, just for the fun of it, just for the satisfaction of knowing that he can. If you defy him…" She shook her head. "You need to be careful."

Grinsa narrowed his eyes. "What did he do to you?"

But Cresenne shook her head. "Not now." She kissed him again. "I'll tell you tomorrow, but I don't want to talk about him tonight."

Neither did Grinsa, of course, and he gladly gave himself over to his hunger for her. Now, though, as the sept awoke, and the sounds of morning beckoned to them, he asked her about it again.

This time Cresenne didn't put him off, though her expression darkened, as if just thinking about it made her angry.

"He didn't really do anything to me," she said. "Remember when we first arrived in the sept, and every morning the Fal'Borna brought us food and firewood?"

Grinsa nodded.

"Well, they didn't do that for us so much as they did it for you, because you're a Weaver." She shrugged. "That's how they treat their Weavers."

He understood immediately. "So once I was gone, they stopped bringing you food and wood."

"The wood I could find on my own," she said. "I had to gather it each day after I finished tanning, but I didn't mind so much. The food, though; we didn't come here early enough to plant crops or hunt rilda. We had nothing."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Grinsa asked. He rolled onto his side so that he could look her in the eye.

"I knew how angry you'd be. And there was nothing you could do. You were looking for the cursed baskets and the woman who made them." A smile lit her face. "Besides, I handled it."

He smiled in turn. "How?"

"F'Solya convinced me to go to E'Menua and ask for his help."

"F'Solya is your friend who tans the skins with you, right?"

She nodded. "She's been a good friend. But of course E'Menua saw this as an opportunity to split you and me apart. He wouldn't let me buy food from the sept. Instead he made L'Norr share his food with me; I was to go to his z'kal for my evening meals."

"L'Norr?" Grinsa repeated. For a moment he couldn't imagine why the a'laq would send her to the young Weaver. He didn't know L'Norr well. The man was Q'Daer's closest friend, and as one of the sept's Weavers he wielded some influence in the settlement. But he hardly struck Grinsa as someone who would willingly take advantage of Cresenne's misfortune. But then it occurred to him why E'Menua would have chosen this man to share his food with Cresenne. L'Norr was young, handsome, and he had not yet been joined to a Weaver. By forcing the two of them together in the middle of Grinsa's lengthy absence from the sept, the a'laq hoped to foster a romance between them. E'Menua was as clever as he was devious.

"I guess the a'laq wasn't satisfied with you being only my concubine," he said, grinning. "He wants you to be L'Norr's, too."

She didn't look amused. "It's not funny. L'Norr has a concubine already, and she accused me of trying to steal her man. For a while there everyone in the sept believed her. Even F'Solya."

"I'm sorry," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "What did you do?"

"I convinced her that she was wrong," she told him, clearly pleased with herself, "and that L'Norr was in love with her."

Grinsa laughed, drawing a delighted shriek from Bryntelle. "And was he?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think he is now. But I convinced her that she had nothing to fear from me. That's all that mattered to me."

He shook his head, still laughing. "I think that you're more dangerous than E'Menua."

But thinking this, he looked toward the entrance to the z'kal, his laughter fading. After a moment, he stood, pulled on his britches, and walked to the flap that covered the entryway. Peering outside, he saw that the ground around the z'kal was hare. No wood; no food.

He turned to face Cresenne, who was pulling on a shirt.

"It seems I did make him angry," Grinsa told her.