She stepped out beside him.

A great river ran below them, glinting in the summer sunshine. It ran through rich farmlands, the fields golden with the ripening barley, and she saw that butterflies were rising in clouds from the flowery meadows beside the road. The sun was hot on her arms; she raised her face to it gratefully, closing her eyes and seeing only a red heat, smelling the dust and some pungent crushed yarrow in the hedge.

When she opened them again he was gone, walking back to the following coaches, swishing his stick, speaking a pleasant word to Lord Evian, who climbed out and mopped perspiration from his red face.

And the Realm stretched before her to the distant misty heat of the horizon, and she wished for a second that she could run into its summer stillness, escape into the peace of the empty land. Somewhere no one else would be.

Somewhere she would be free.

A movement at her elbow. Lord Evian stood there, sipping from a small wine flask.

"Beautiful," he breathed. He pointed a plump finger. "Do you see?"

She saw a glitter miles away in the distant hills. A brilliant diamond-white reflection. And she knew it was the sunlight on the roof of the great Glass Court.

KEIRO ATE the last scrap of meat and leaned back, replete. He drank the dregs of beer and looked around for someone to refill the tankard.

Attia was still sitting by the door; he ignored her. The tavern was full; he had to call twice to get attention. Then the alewife came over with a jug and as she filled said, "What about your friend? Doesn't she eat?"

"She's no friend of mine."

"She came in behind you."

He shrugged. "Can't help being followed by girls. I mean, look at me."

The woman laughed and shook her head. "All right, handsome. Pay up."

He counted out a few coins, drank the beer, and stood, stretching. He felt better after the wash, and the flame-red jerkin had always looked good on him. Striding between the tables he ignored Attia as she scrambled up to follow and was halfway down the dim alleyway before her voice made him stop.

"When are we going to find them?"

He didn't turn.

"God knows what's happening to them. You promised ..."

Keiro swung around. "Why don't you get lost?"

The girl stared back. She was a timid little thing, he'd thought, but this was the second time she'd confronted him, and it was getting annoying. "I'm not going anywhere," she said quietly.

Keiro grinned. "You think I'm going to desert them, don't your

"Yes."

Her directness threw him. It made him angry. He turned and walked on, but she came after him like a shadow. Like a dog.

"I think you want to, but I won't let you. I won't let you take the Key."

He told himself he wouldn't answer her, but the words came out anyway. "You have no idea what I'll do. Finn and I are oathbrothers. That means everything. And I keep my word."

"Do you?" Her voice slid into a sly copy of Jormanric's. " I haven't kept my word since I was ten and knifed my own brother. Is that how it works, Keiro? Is that how the Comitatus is still with us, inside you?"

He turned on her then, but she was ready for him. She leaped, scratching his face, kicking and pushing him so that he staggered and crashed back against the wall. The Key fell out, a clatter on the filthy cobbles; they both grabbed for it, but she was quicker.

Keiro hissed with anger. He caught her hair, dragged it back savagely. "Give it to me!"

She screamed and squirmed.

"Let go of it!"

He pulled harder. With a howl of pain Attia threw the Key into the darkness; instantly Keiro let her go and scrambled after it, but as soon as he picked it up, he dropped it with a yell.

It lay on the ground, small blue lights traveling inside it.

Suddenly, with alarming silence, an image field sprang up around it. They saw a girl dressed in a sumptuous dress, her back against a tree, lit by a glorious brilliance of light. She stared at them both. When she spoke, her voice was sharp with suspicion.

"Where's Finn? Who the hell are you?"

THEY HAD given him a meal of honeycakes and some strange seeds and a hot drink that bubbled slightly, but he had been afraid to taste it in case it was drugged. Whatever he was going into, he wanted a clear head.

They had also given him clean clothes and water to wash in. Outside the door of the room two of the Crane-men stood, leaning against the wall.

He crossed to the window. There was a long drop. Below was a narrow street, crowded with people even now, begging and selling and setting up makeshift camps in the street, sleeping under sacks, their animals wandering everywhere. The noise was appalling.

He put his hands on the sill and leaned out, looking up at the roofs. They were mostly straw, with some metal patched here and there. There was no way he could climb out on them; the house leaned outward as if it would fall, and he certainly would. For a moment he wondered if it might not be better to break his neck here than have to face some nameless creature, but there was still time. Things might change.

He ducked inside and sat on the stool trying to think. Where was Keiro? What was he doing? What plan did he have? Keiro was willful and wild, but he was a great plotter. The ambush of the Civicry had been his idea. He was bound to think of something good. Already Finn missed his brashness, his utter self-certainty.

The door opened; Gildas squeezed in.

"You!" Finn jumped up. "You've got a nerve ..."

The Sapient held up both hands. "You're angry. Finn, I had no choice. You saw what would have happened to us." He sounded grim, went and sat heavily on the stool. "Besides, Fm coming with you."

"They said only me."

"Silver coins do much." He grunted tetchily. "Most people try to bribe their way out of being taken to the Cave, it seems, not in."

There was only one seat in the room; Finn sat on the floor among the straw and wrapped his arms around his knees. "I thought I was on my own," he said softly.

"Well, you're not. I am not Keiro, and I will not desert my seer."

Finn scowled. Then he said, "Would you desert me if I saw nothing?"

Gildas rubbed his dry hands together, making a papery sound. "Of course not."

They were silent a moment, listening to the babble of the street. Then Finn said, "Tell me about the Cave."

"I thought you knew the story. Sapphique came to the Citadel of the Justices, which must be where we are. He learned that the people here pay a Tribute every month to a being they only know as the Beast—the tribute is a young man or woman of the town. They go into a cave on the mountainside; none ever return."

He scratched his beard. "Sapphique came before the Justices and offered himself in place of the girl whose life was due. They say she wept at his feet. As he went out all the people of the town watched him go, in silence. He entered the Cave alone, without weapons."

Finn said, "And?"

Gildas was silent a moment. When he went on, his voice was lower. "For three days nothing happened. Then, on the fourth, news went around like wildfire that the stranger had emerged from the Cave. The townspeople lined the walls, threw open the gates.

Sapphique walked slowly up the road. When he reached the gates he lifted up his hand, and they saw that the index finger on the right was missing, and that the hand bled into the dust. He said, 'The debt has not been paid. There is not enough of me to pay the debt.