Tears welled up in Laera's eyes and no matter how rapidly she blinked, they wouldn't go away. Veseene turned wet and blurry. Laera wiped the back of a hand across her face. "Veseene! I thought you were on my side!"

"I'm on the side that doesn't want to see you make a stupid decision, Laera." The old woman put a trembling, feather-light arm around her and held her close. "I wouldn't trade my life for any other. I love performing. I love the people I've met and the places-all of them- I've been. I love the magic that I found along the way. But a bard's life can be ugly and confusing. You saw just a little bit of that last night." Her hand stroked Laera's hair. "Forget Tycho. Forget your father. Forget me. You need to ask yourself one thing: if you could somehow turn back the hours to yesterday afternoon, would you leave your father's house again?"

Laera gulped and stared in silence at the fire. Veseene continued to hold her and stroke her hair. After a little while, she began to speak.

"A good many years ago," she said, "not too long before I came to Spandeliyon for the first time and met Tycho in fact, I was in Two Stars, about as far east in Thesk as you can go before you're in Rashemen. Now, Two Stars was then and is now ruled by a family called Gallidy. While I was there, I made the acquaintance of a younger son of the Gallidys and he invited me to stay in his family's castle-"

"A castle and a prince?" Laera couldn't hold back a smile. "I thought you said a bard's life wasn't easy or romantic?"

Veseene only gave her a disapproving glance. "He invited me to stay in his family's castle, which is positioned precisely astride the crossroads of the Golden Way leading east and west and the Cold Road leading north and south. I wasn't the only guest in the castle, of course. There was also a Red Wizard of Thay, a group of elves, and, most important, a party of Nars, the rough folk who dwell at the north end of the Cold Road. As it happened, there was a young Nar man among them, the son of a chief, who was of an age with my host. The Nar's name was Eiter, my host's Dain, and while I was there, they grew very close and became fast friends."

"When the season drew to a close and it was time for the Nars to leave, Dain and Eiter and I went on one last carousing binge around Two Stars-"

Laera twisted around and stared at her. "Veseene! How old were you?"

"I haven't always been a shaking invalid," the bard said haughtily, "and even a lady of quality should never ask a woman her age. Let's say I was young at heart, but old enough to know better."

"Late that night, when both Dain and Eiter had fallen well into their cups, they decided that they needed to seal their friendship. With me as a witness, they cut each other's right palm and pressed their wounds together, mingling their blood and binding them in a Nar blood-oath. The next day, the Nars left."

"On their way north, brigands attacked them. With his right hand wounded, Eiter couldn't fight properly. He was killed."

Laera gasped, but Veseene continued her story. "Eiter's father sent word back to Two Stars-and a demand for restitution. Blood for blood. Dain was responsible for the wound that killed Eiter."

"That's not right!" choked Laera. Veseene's eyebrow rose.

"Isn't it? If Dain hadn't cut Eiter's palm, he would have been able to fight and he would have survived the attack."

"What happened?" Laera begged. "What did the Gal-lidys do?"

"Dain and his family could have ignored the demand, but that would have strained relations with the Nars and drawn their integrity into question. They could have tried to make restitution with coin, but that would have made a mockery of Dain's oath to Eiter. In the end, Dain saddled a horse and rode north alone along the Cold Road to meet the Nar chief. His oath to Eiter would accept no less."

Laera sighed. "That's heroic!" she said. "It's just like what would happen in a ballad!"

"Oh?" Veseene asked. "Then how would the story end in a ballad?"

She thought for a moment and frowned. "Dain found the bandits on the way north, slew Eiter's real killer, and took his body to… No." Her frown grew deeper as she thought a little more. Veseene wouldn't be asking if the ending were so simple. Laera tried to imagine how the tale would fit into a ballad, tried to imagine Tycho singing or reciting it. She began again. "Dain reached the Nar chief and showed him the scar on his palm. When the chief saw how deeply Dain had loved Eiter, he declared that blood for blood had been satisfied-and Dain took Eiter's place as his son. He lived, but never saw Two Stars again." She looked at Veseene.

The old woman nodded. "That would make a good ballad," she said. "It's actually very close. Dain did show Eiter's father his scarred palm." Laera smiled-until Veseene added, "And because he had taken the blood-oath with Eiter, Dain was considered a member of the tribe and no tribe member could take the life of another, even in revenge. But there was a punishment for murder. Some merchants found Dain a tenday later, staggering south along the Cold Road. The Nar punishment for murder is exile-and disfigurement. The Nars had hacked off Dain's left hand, the hand that inflicted the wound that killed Ei-ter, and branded their sign for death on his cheek."

Laera shrank back in stunned shock, pulling away from Veseene's arms. "No! You made that up!" Veseene shrugged.

"Why would I?" She reached for Laera's hand. Suddenly her frail, trembling grip seemed cold and clawlike. Laera swallowed. Veseene shook her head. "Laera, life is no romance. Every decision you make has a consequence. If Dain and Eiter hadn't taken a blood-oath… if Dain hadn't gone north…" She patted Laera's hand. "Think carefully before you decide to leave your father's house for-"

Abruptly, there was a shout out in the street. A heartbeat later, the slam of the building's door echoed up the stairwell outside Tycho and Veseene's rooms. Laera jumped up. "Tycho?"

Heavy footfalls hit the stairs. Veseene flinched. "No," she said, "it isn't!" She pointed sharply. "Laera, hide in the back room." Laera blinked and stared. "Do it now!" Veseene snapped.

Laera turned and darted for the door to the dark second room. She caught a glimpse of Veseene grabbing the linen bag that held her special tea and stuffing it into her shirt, and then the door was closed behind her. She leaned against it.

The footfalls on the stairs were thunder. They stopped-and a splintering crash seemed to shake the entire building. Veseene shrieked, gasped, and choked, "You-!"

"Olore again, Veseene." Laera recognized that rich, warm voice. Brin! Her breath stopped. The door she leaned against wouldn't stop him-or whoever was with him. The footsteps on the stairs had been too heavy for just a halfling. She could feel a blade on her throat again. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape, a hiding place.

The window. Tycho had left his rope tied to the bedpost; she had pulled it up and coiled it neatly after he and an invisible Li had climbed down. As massive footsteps moved in the outer room, she ran for it and heaved the heavy coil out. It slapped against the side of the building.

"The back room!" snapped Brin and the footsteps moved faster. Laera twisted her body over the windowsill, wrapped her hands around the rope, and let herself drop.

The rough fibers burned her palms and fingers like grabbing hold of a blazing torch. She hit the ground before she could cry out, though, and new agony flared through her right ankle. She slammed down into the melting snow and icy muck of the alley just as a door slammed open in the room above.

There were shadows. A crooked niche where this building and its neighbor came together. Ignoring the pain in her palms and ankle, Laera scrambled for the niche and jammed herself into it. She choked her whimpers into silence. Distantly, she heard footsteps and a grunt of frustration from up above. A moment later, there was a slither of rope on wood. Tycho's rope being pulled up again? Being dropped into the alley? She didn't dare to look. Above her, the footsteps moved away. Voices, too indistinct to make out-until Veseene shrieked again. And stopped.