He'd urged Besh and Sirj to leave the plain while they still could. Now he wished that he'd insisted.

"I'm sorry," Q'Daer said to the Mettai, frowning deeply. "I didn't want to say any of this, but the Forelander wanted me to come here with him, and I didn't feel that I should lie to you."

"I didn't make you sick," Besh said, sounding angry. "Neither of us did. We've left our home, our family, just so that we could keep Lici's plague from killing any more of your people. And now you think-" He looked away, his lips pressed thin, his chest rising and falling. "We never wanted to hurt anyone."

Q'Daer shrugged. "Our people are at war."

"Sirj and I aren't."

The Fal'Borna started to reply, but then stopped himself. Grinsa thought he could guess what he'd intended to say. To the Fal'Borna, clan was everything. Q'Daer could no more imagine these two Mettai refusing to follow their people to war than he could imagine himself marrying an Eandi woman.

"So what happens now?" Grinsa asked, looking at Q'Daer.

"What do you mean, what happens? We'll be riding to war before long. The Mettai will remain here."

"As guests," Besh said, a bitter smile on his lips. "How fortunate for us. How long will it be before your a'laq decides to execute us as enemies of your people?"

Q'Daer's mouth twitched. "I don't know."

"But you think it's possible that he will?" Grinsa demanded. The Fal'Borna exhaled, then nodded. "Yes."

Grinsa glanced at Besh, who was already regarding him, looking grim. "I tried to tell you to go home," Grinsa said.

"If we'd gone when you told us to, you'd be dead." Besh looked sidelong at Q'Daer. "Both of you would be."

"What can we do?" Grinsa asked the Fal'Borna.

"Nothing. If the a'laq decides that the Mettai are to be killed, they'll die."

"Right. And I'm asking you what we can do to convince him not to make that decision."

Q'Daer's expression hardened. "Have you listened to anything I've said? I don't trust these men!"

"Mind-bending."

Grinsa and Q'Daer both looked at Cresenne. "What?" Grinsa asked.

"One of you could use mind-bending magic on them. Force them to tell you the truth about what they did and what their intentions are."

"I've had mind-bending used on me before," Sirj said, looking doubtful.

"By F'Ghara. I wouldn't be eager to have it done again. It's… unnerving." Besh laid a hand on the younger man's arm. "I'll do it," he said.

Grinsa turned to Q'Daer. "Would that convince you?"

The man frowned. "I've… I've never used that magic. I wouldn't know how, and I don't want to… to damage him."

Besh paled.

"Then I can do it," Grinsa told him.

"You could make him say anything."

Grinsa threw up his hands. "So you don't trust yourself to do it, but you don't trust me, either."

"I trust the a'laq."

"No," Grinsa said, shaking his head. "I don't trust him. He'll bend Besh's words just to spite me."

"D'Pera, then," Cresenne said. "The n'qlae."

"I haven't had many dealings with her," Grinsa said, discomfitted by the suggestion. "Do you trust her?"

"I think so. I don't like her, but I think she'd be fair. And E'Menua is far more likely to be convinced if she wields the magic."

Grinsa couldn't argue with that. He turned back to Besh. "What do you think?"

"I'd rather the Fal'Borna simply let us go," the Mettai man said. "But if my choice is between subjecting myself to this magic and being executed as an enemy of the clan, I'll take my chances with the magic."

"The a'laq will never agree to this," Q'Daer said, shaking his head. "You can't go to him and suggest that the n'qlae use her magic on the Mettai because you don't trust him to deal with you honestly. I'm offended by the idea of it. He'll be outraged."

"He'll agree," Grinsa said. "And he'll have no right to be angry, since he will have insulted me first."

Early on, when he and Cresenne first arrived in the sept, Grinsa had felt that the a'laq was always one step ahead of him, anticipating his every attempt to win their freedom. He'd allowed himself to be drawn into the demon's bargain that had almost forced him to remain with the Fal'Borna when his search for Lici failed. A few turns later, he and Cresenne had yet to find a way to leave the sept, but at least now he knew what to expect from E'Menua.

He started their discussion with an earnest appeal to the a'laq to trust Besh and Sirj. "They saved my life," he told the man, again. "They saved Q'Daer. Why don't you believe they're our allies?"

"Because," E'Menua said, so predictable it was almost funny, "their kind have marched to war against us. They are no better than the dark-eyes with whom they've allied themselves."

"With all due respect, A'Laq, I believe you're wrong about them," Grinsa told him. "These other Mettai might have cast their lot with the Eandi, but Besh and Sirj are different. They're our friends. F'Ghara acknowledged as much when he gave them his stone."

"F'Ghara is a fool. He leads a sept with no Weavers. And even the Mettai admit that he gave them his stone before the war began. The war changes everything."

"I can prove to you that they can be trusted," Grinsa said. "Let me use mind-bending magic on them. We can ask them whatever you want; they'll have no choice but to tell us the truth."

E'Menua frowned. Apparently he hadn't expected this. All the better. "No," he said.

"Why not, A'Laq?"

"This is a waste of time. I need to be preparing my warriors for battle, not arguing with you about these two dark-eye sorcerers."

"All the more reason to do what I'm asking of you. Right now you have a dozen warriors posted around their z'kal. Those men should be readying themselves for war. We can settle this in just a few moments, if you'll let me do this."

E'Menua shook his head.

Come on! Grinsa pleaded silently. Say it! You know you want to. He kept silent, though, watching the a'laq, an expectant look on his face.

When E'Menua didn't say anything more, Grinsa tried to give him one last push.

"Suit yourself then," he finally said, turning as if to leave E'Menua's shelter. "I'll question the men myself. I'll have Q'Daer with me. He can tell you what they said."

"It won't mean anything," the a'laq told him.

"Why not?" Grinsa asked, his back still to the man.

"Because there's nothing to stop you from twisting their words."

There it was. Grinsa smiled, then quickly schooled his features and faced him again.

"You think I'd lie to you about this?"

"Not lie," E'Menua said, seeming to choose his words with care. "But you'll be controlling them. You can make them say whatever suits your needs. You want to save their lives, and you might be inclined to keep them from saying anything that would lead me to execute them."

"Then what would you suggest?"

The a'laq grinned, as if he already knew what Grinsa would say. "I could question them using my magic."

"And how can I be sure that you wouldn't make them say what you want to hear?"

"What would that be?" E'Menua asked.

"Whatever it would take to give you an excuse to kill them."

The a'laq gave a small shrug. "I don't suppose you can be sure. As I said, this is a waste of time."

He didn't rush to it; he didn't want to give E'Menua any indication that he'd been thinking along these lines from the start. Once more he made as if to leave, going so far as to push aside the piece of rilda skin covering the entrance to the z'kal. But then he stopped himself.

"What about another Weaver?" he asked, looking at E'Menua again. "What about the n'glae?"

The Fal'Borna narrowed his eyes. Clearly he hadn't expected this, either. "D'Pera?"

"We both trust her. She wields the magic. Why not?"

"When would we do this?" E'Menua asked, suddenly wary.