His face showed that it was nothing to him. He had never heard her name before.

"What do you want with Ursa?" Colo took up the questioning again.

"It is not personal with me," the elf said arrogantly. "My mistress has paid well for him. She would pay more for you."

"Who is she?" Kitiara demanded.

"Luz Mantilla. A lady who wants revenge on the persons who murdered her beloved."

"Lady Mantilla!" exclaimed Kit.

"You have heard of her," the elf said with satisfaction. "She is a crazed person who has the money to employ the services of dozens of mages, spies, and assassins. Her life is devoted to finding the mercenaries who waylaid and murdered her fiancйe, an innocent nobleman. There were five of them. We have only ever been able to name four. We don't dare return without the fifth-and that is you, Kitiara Uth Matar."

"Return where?" asked Colo.

The dark elf spoke with an almost sinister glee. "To a small, once-thriving kingdom on the other side of the Eastwall Mountains, now a land of rubble and death and dark magic. A hellish place. I have never been there. Kraven there-" he indicated the dead elf with an unsentimental nod "-he was the contact and the purser."

There was a long, heavy silence.

"I think I know where," said Kit to Colo.

Colo pulled her aside so that they could speak out of range of the elf. They squatted in the moonlight, speaking in low tones. Colo's face was serious. "So you know something about this, after all?"

Kit waited a moment before speaking. "It was one of Ursa's jobs. I tagged along and played a part to trick the pursuers. From what he told me, the job was botched and this Beck, a young nobleman, was killed."

For an instant Kitiara flashed on that night-the memory of Beck, his lifeless face and mutilated body.

"You didn't get the money?" asked Colo.

"Well, I didn't get the money," said Kit with wry bitterness, "but the others did, Radisson, Droopface, Ursa and-" her voice faltered "-El-Navar. They cut me out of the payoff and rode off without me. Ursa gave me this sword as a 'reward,' Beck's sword." She indicated the sword in her hand, whose tip was restlessly prodding the ground.

"Then?" asked Colo.

"Beck Gwathmey was pledged to be married to a gentlewoman on the other side of the mountain," Kit continued. "A road was being built to seal the marriage. When he died, everything fell apart. I got stuck in a place called Stump-town for several months and heard a lot of gossip about what happened. Luz Mantilla went insane, people said, and murdered her own father. He had planned the ambush to prevent the marriage. She vowed to track down the hired killers. Nobody ever knew I was part of that business."

"Except the other four," Colo said.

"Radisson must have died before telling," Kitiara mused. "Nobody knows what happened to the Karnuthian. And now Luz has Ursa…"

"Where is this place?" asked Colo.

"Across the channel, then a week's ride, hundreds of miles, through not one but several mountainous areas."

"The magic wind must have taken them there."

Kit said nothing. Both of them glanced over their shoulders at the dark elf. He stood there, knotted in rope with a tight loop around his neck, staring hatefully.

"They don't know your name yet, that you were part of it," mused Colo.

"Unless Ursa tells them."

"If he is still alive."

"That was so long ago," mused Kitiara. "Three years. I had almost forgotten. Except…"

"Except what?" Colo looked deeply into her eyes.

Kitiara averted her glance. "Nothing," she said.

Colo got up and took a long draw of water out of a tin cup by the campfire, watching the dark elf. He laughed and spat in her direction. She went to their two horses and meticulously riffled the saddlebags, pulling out a few precious items-a heavy purse, some dried food, and a crumpled map that she held up with satisfaction for Kit to examine.

"What are you going to do?" asked Kit.

"What do you think?" replied Colo with annoyance. "I'm going to ride after Ursa. What about you?"

"I-I don't know," said Kitiara.

"Don't you owe that to a man who made love to you?"

"What do you mean?" said Kit, flushed.

"Ursa," said Colo. "I owe him that much. Don't you?"

"I never made love to Ursa," declared Kitiara angrily.

"You're lying."

"No."

Kit met her eyes. Long seconds passed. Colo had just started to turn away when Kit made up her mind.

"I'll come," she declared.

Colo pulled out the dagger she had taken from the dead dark elf and handed it over to Kit. "What about that one?" asked Colo pointedly. "He knows your identity now."

Kitiara hesitated just a moment before taking the dagger and walking to the prisoner. The tall dark elf stared at her, his eyes sour. "Don't expect me to beg," he said coldly.

Kit grabbed him by the hair, yanked his head back, and slit him across the throat. He died without another word.

"That's for Cinnamon," she murmured. And for Patric, she added to herself.

She pulled the knife out and wiped it on her leggings, then handed it back to Colo, meeting her eyes. Kit chose one of the two elven steeds, Colo the other. Both were strong black animals. Droopface's mule, which had served them well, was set free.

In spite of the late hour they bounded onto their horses and rode off.

With feverish speed they headed south and east toward one of the seacoast villages north of Vocalion, where Kit would not be recognized. The dark elf's crude map showed them the most direct route back to the deep valley stronghold of the Mantilla family in the Eastwall Mountains. But first they had to make the crossing of the channel to Abanasinia.

Reaching the coast in the morning, they settled in a sleepy town named Conover, whose harbor was filled with vessels of all types. Taking care not to call attention to themselves, Kit and Colo climbed the gangplanks of a dozen ships, trying to book passage for themselves and their horses. But sea travel slowed during cold months, so most of the ships were moored for the season. And no captain was willing to carry them for the amount of money they could spare.

At the end of a frustrating day on the waterfront, Kit spotted a broad-bottomed cargo ship anchored out in the harbor, away from the dock. They rowed out to speak to the captain, a barrel-chested seaman who was in transit with a delivery of furs and wool. He agreed to take them on condition they pitch in as deck hands, for he was short one sailor, and reckoned two females might make up one man.

Colo was ready to grab him by the throat, but Kit acted first. "Done," she agreed, shaking his hand on the bargain.

His ship, the Fleury, left early the next day. The week's sail was an agony to Kit and Colo-not the hard work, which at least used up the time, but the slowness. When not occupied with duties, they paced the desk ceaselessly, saying little, finding it difficult to sleep.

When the Fleury finally reached the coast, the crew lowered them and their mounts into the waves. Rather than wait to be ferried, one by one, on the loading barge, they swam ashore.

They were at the far edge of Abanasinia and knew from the map that they had to travel west and north, around the spur of the Kharolis, before turning south toward the peaks of Eastwall.

For six days and six nights Kit and Colo rode, sleeping for only an hour or two each night, then rising before dawn to take the saddle again. Stopping periodically only to gulp strong tea and gobble down some dried fruit, they made good time, driving their horses hard. Colo set the pace. She was a natural rider and perhaps had the strongest animal at the outset; but Kitiara was never far behind.