She said nothing, but gathered up her white himation and arranged it to fall in graceful folds. “I’m ready.”

They were escorted by six of the Swords of the Lord, all armed. Giliahna wondered if they were so afraid of her, and realized they were, when she saw one old woman back away making a sign against demons.

The Reverend Father’s house was an impressive dwelling, grand enough to house the lord of a small duchy. She was brought inside to his study, where they found him sitting in a richly carved chair, his small, pudgy hands tight on its leather-padded arms.

“So this is the sorceress. No wonder she has bespelled you, Stefanohs. You were always weak when it came to women. She is beautiful.” He spoke dispassionately, as if discussing a vase or some other objet d'art.

“Her beauty has nothing to do with it. 1 gave her my word that she would be treated with respect, as we would wish one of our own to be treated if she was a hostage.”

“And how would your people treat one of my sacred warriors?” the priest asked her.

Giliahna said nothing. The man’s shield was tight as a barrel sealed with pitch. She could pick up no thoughts at all. But she did not need to. The malevolence and hatred that burned in his dark eyes spoke loudly enough.

“They’d torture my fighters until they broke—but the Lord’s chosen do not break! This time we will beat you, and drive you into the sea. We will cleanse this land of your unbelieving filth—”

He stopped himself. “Would your Milo Morai give up a portion of his land for your life?”

She said nothing. There was nothing she could say.

“Will you admit you are a demon-worshiping sorceress and repent your crimes against the Lord?’ ’

Giliahna laughed.

She knew he wanted to hit her, but he was restraining himself, with an effort.

“Your kind tried to break me once. I preferred to die.” She said it calmly, conversationally. “But know that my death will bring the Confederation down upon you. I sent a messenger to Bili of Morguhn, and sooner or later he will find you, and we’ll see who does the cleansing then.”

It was late, and Stefanohs could not sleep. If he was going to act, it would have to be very soon, while there were still hours of darkness to cover their escape. He had sat through the council meeting, listening to the self-congratulatory speeches of his grandfather and the others, trying not to let what he felt show on his face. For one moment, when the Reverend Father had ordered Giliahna to be held under guard in the temple, his mask had slipped, and Stefanohs had been able to see into his mind, and it was like staring into a cesspool. What he had planned for Giliahna was not to use her as a hostage, but to give her as a sacrifice to the Lord—to save her soul by killing by inches, knowing that as an Undying her body would heal itself within minutes.

He could not let that happen. He had given her his word, and he owed her his life. He had added a colorless liquid to the watered wine that would be brought to the guards with their evening meal. It would put them into a sound sleep. There were advantages to being a scout and a spy after all; an ordinary warrior wouldn’t have known of the potion nor thought to use it. By now the guards should be fast asleep.

The shadows hid him as he made his way through the courtyard to the temple. The side door was less conspicuous, so he went in that way, slipping by the guards. No one noticed him. The whole Stronghold, except for those on duty, were still celebrating—madly. He had drunk his share, but had retired early, pleading exhaustion from the last few days of hard traveling. After kneeling for the Reverend Father’s blessing, he had left them to their revels. Their shouts covered any slight noise he might make.

Giliahna was bound with leather thongs to a chair in the sanctuary. Her eyes widened when she saw him, but she made no sound because of the gag. He pulled it free, made a shushing noise, then sawed through her bonds. Then he gave her breeches and a jacket in dark cloth.

“Put these on. You can’t ride in a gown.”

She didn’t waste time with modesty or foolish questions but pulled on the garments. He had a brief glimpse of full breasts and white thighs before she had the breeches on, and then the jacket.

“I’m ready. Where?”

“How good are you at climbing stockades?”

“You should ask Tim that. He taught me when I wanted to be out riding with him instead of sewing. We both had our behinds blistered, but I spent more afternoons riding than I did at my needle.”

“Good. Come on.”

They exited by the side door, and he led her around past the house of the junior priests, who were mostly passed out from the copious amounts of wine they had drunk earlier, judging from the snores. Then he boosted her over the wall and scrambled up beside her. They jumped to the ground, landing hard and rolling.

“Pray the guards don’t hear us.”

“They won’t. I drugged them.”

“Which way?”

He pointed, and together they darted past the outbuildings to the place in the woods where he had managed to tether two horses earlier, while the guards had been distracted. Again he blessed his years of getting revenge on larger enemies by stealth and craft. It had made him a good spy. Now it was helping him to escape.

He looked back over his shoulder for one last look at the Stronghold. He had grown up there, but he had never belonged there. Even to his mother he was an unwanted reminder of rape. The only thing holding him had been ties of faith, and Zakareeohs had shown him how misguided he had been.

But he did see the Stronghold one last time. Halfway through the following day, they ran into one of Bili’s patrols, who recognized Giliahna from her visits to Morguhn Hall. They brought her as quickly as possible to Bili’s camp, where Stefanohs was shocked to see that hard warrior wipe away what looked suspiciously like a tear as he embraced his sister.

He was even more surprised when Bili, who was known for his loathing of anything Ehleenee, did not have him placed under guard but treated him as an honorable prisoner— once Giliahna had told him her story. Bili’s face darkened with rage at the way Zakareeohs had abused her—he had had her beaten while she was under his care, before he had had her taken to the temple.

“For that alone, he deserves to die.”

“It’s nothing to what he would have done if Stefanohs had not come to my aid.”

“It was my doing that put you in his hands in the first place,” Stefanohs said.

“Enough apologies from both of you,” Bili thundered. “We must move against them at first light. Giliahna, can you give us directions to the place?”

“There’s no need. I’ll guide you there,” Stefahohs said. Bili looked at him silently for a long moment, probing for a lie, but Stefanohs allowed him free access to his mind. “I see you have reason to turn against your own.”

“They were never my own. I just didn’t know it until now.”

“I can’t ask you to take up arms against those of your blood.”

“Why not? Zakareeohs did.” His smile was grim.

Giliahna called him to the tent Bili had had vacated for her. It was small, but there was warm bedding to sleep on, and after her recent trials it looked like a palace.

“What do you want, High Lady?”

“Three friends were looking for you.” Three triangular faces appeared out from beneath a camp stool. “They must have followed us here, somehow.”

We came to thank the two-legs for aiding us. Though I would have done fine in just a few minutes. It was the arrogant little male.

Giliahn held out a hand to him, and he padded forward to sniff it, then curl up beside her contentedly. She scratched his chin, and he made a contented sound deep in his throat.

“Can foxes purr?” Giliahna wondered aloud, and then she glanced up from the kit to see Stefanohs watching her with hunger in his eyes. She pushed the kit to his feet and shooed him back to his mother. She patted the pile of blankets on which she was sitting. “Sit down beside me.”