"Captain Quentin?" inquired an imperious voice to his left. "I am Hasheth, here on behalf of Lord Hhune."

The man let out a mighty, chalk-scented belch and turned to regard his dreaded passenger. Hhune's apprentice was a young man, probably not yet twenty years of age. Maybe a by-blow of the lord himself judging from that dark hair, though the lad's curved nose and sun-browned skin suggested a bit of Calishite blood. Well, that was common enough in Zazesspur these days, what with the pasha and all. It was fashionable among society folk to keep a southern woman as mistress, or so Quentin had heard tell. He himself Lad to make due with a wife-his own, unfortunately.

"Welcome aboard, lad!" he said with a heartiness he certainly did not feel. "Well be on our way with the dawn. Pick any horse that catches your fancy, then HI show you what's what."

That will hardly be necessary," Hasheth said, his lip curled with disdain. He gestured to a covered carriage pulled by paired chestnuts, beautiful, fine-boned animals whose glossy red-brown coats had been groomed to the sheen of fine sable. The carriage horses were all the more striking for the fact that they were nearly identical, even to the white stars on their foreheads. To add excess to opulence, a magnificent black stallion and a long-legged gray mare were tied behind the carriage.

"As you can see, I have brought my own conveyance as well as additional horses, should I choose to ride. As for your business, you do it well enough to suit mylord Hhune, and that is good enough for me," the lad continued coolly. "I am required to be here as part of my education, so let us strike a deal. If you are asked, you will report that I observed you closely. If I am asked, I will say that all I observed was in order."

There was a slight edge to Hasheth's voice, a shrewd, almost smug nuance that hinted the young man already knew far too much about the caravan's affairs. Quentin darted a look at the lad, hoping he'd heard wrong. In response, Hasheth lifted a single eyebrow in unmistakable challenge.

The banked flame in Quentin's gut flared up hot and high, sending a surge of acid up into his throat. "Agreed," the captain muttered, wishing mightily that he could spit without offending the lordly young man.

Hasheth nodded again to the carriage and to the veiled woman who peeked out from behind one curtain. "You need not bother yourself with me. As you can see, I have brought a diversion to sweeten the journey. Which brings us to another matter. The lady has a delicate skin and a desire to see the marketplace before the heat of highsun. I understand this requires an unusually brisk place, but my own desires would be well served by indulging hers. May I tell her that you will accommodate us?"

Quentin merely nodded, for this throat was feeling too raw for speech. He watched as the imperious youth climbed into the carriage and pulled the curtain firmly shut; then he shook his head and strode away to tend to the caravan. He was not at all certain what to make of this strange encounter or of the young apprentice who saw far too much.

When at last the morning sun broke over the distant peaks of the Starspires, the mighty gate swung slowly inward. By the time the caravan started off on its journey-at an extremely brisk pace, as requested- Quentin was feeling much better. Quite chipper, in fact!

He'd often worried about discovery, but now that it had come he found it to be a relief. Although Quentin took his orders from Hhune's people, he had no window into the lord's affairs and no way of knowing how his own actions might be perceived-or which of them might have come before Hhune's eyes. This Hasheth was bright enough to uncover Quentin's embezzlement. Surely he could also manage to keep it from prying eyes. And better still, the lad was ready to deal. Quentin felt certain that he could persuade Hasheth to provide him a bit of protection, plus maybe pass along a bit of information from time to time that would help the caravan captain gild the inside of his pockets.

Yes, he concluded happily, Hhune's newest apprentice was someone with whom he could do business, to the profit of both!

"Did I chose my man well?" Hasheth inquired in a smug tone.

Arilyn nodded, perfectly willing to give the young man his due. From all that she had seen and heard, Quentin Llorish was a perfect choice, one who would no doubt continue to serve Hasheth in a dependable, if dishonorable, fashion.

In fact, her departure from Zazesspur had gone more smoothly than Arilyn would have thought possible. Every step of the agreed-upon plan had been flawlessly executed. Hasheth was good and getting better by the day.

Why, then, did she feel so ill at ease?

With a sigh, Arilyn leaned back into the cushions and steeled herself for a long morning's ride. She was none too happy about spending several hours in inactivity, with nothing to absorb her but her own troubled thoughts. Too much had happened of late, too many revelations had been thrust upon her-more than she could possibly sort through between Zazesspur and the Sulduskoon.

Arilyn liked to deal with problems as they arose: quickly, cleanly, decisively, with diplomacy if possible and with swift violence when necessary. Yet she had been forced to ignore her nature, her accustomed methods, and her own better judgment to tend to the elven queen's commission.

So here she was, bound for the elven forest and burdened with someone else's problems, while her own life was in utter disarray. Her ancestor slept in some rich man's vault, and Arilyn had done nothing to redress this dishonor. Danilo had declared his love for her, and she had decked him and sent him packing without so much as taking time to consider what her own eventual response should be. Then there was the matter of the elfshadow, and the bleak future that it foretold.

Arilyn could not forget for a moment the destiny inherent in the moonblade she carried and the unwitting vow she had made so many years ago when first she drew the elven sword. The half-elf had never before feared death, but she could not help but feel her mortality. She was headed toward an extremely dangerous mission, bearing a sword that would, in all likelihood, claim her in eternal servitude. To say that this added a note of urgency to her quest, Arilyn concluded dryly, was something of an understatement.

All told, the half-elf was in no mood to parry Hasheth's inevitable advances with anything approaching diplomacy. Indeed, it would take every shred of self-control that she possessed to keep from tossing the young man out onto the roadside with his first manipulative compliment, his first double entendre.

But either the gods took pity upon her, or Hasheth was beginning to learn in this matter, as well. The morning passed without incident. Indeed, Hasheth kept Arilyn so busy with his questions that she had no time to contemplate the troubling path before her.

The young prince was full to overbrimming with questions about Harper ways and the foes that the Harpers faced. He was also eager to learn everything of Tethyrian history and politics that Arilyn had to share, and was curious about the affairs of other lands, as well. Apparently the palace saw no need to include matters of state in the education of a thirteenth-born son.

Arilyn gave each question a terse but complete answer, and she noted that Hasheth listened well-an important skill for a Harper informant. It was plain that the young man enjoyed taking part in the activities of this clandestine group, and that he reveled in intrigue and secrecy. He was also justly proud of his growing skill in devising and putting into place complex plans. But Arilyn was also aware that Hasheth's main tie with the Harpers was not personal conviction or even a respect for the Harpers and their ideals, but a sense of obligation to her and to Danilo. Now that they had both left the city behind, she was not so certain that Hasheth would continue in this role.