"I understand," Krystin said, "but wouldn't he have left Calimport by now? Or at least found a hideout that he knew was secure? We could spend days trying to find him-"

"She has a point," Erin Shandower said, breaking the long silence that had suffused the others.

"I agree," Ord said as he turned to look at Krystin. "Our mission is not to capture and punish common thieves. My mother and father did not give their lives so that we could waste the time they purchased for us with their blood."

For a time, no one spoke. Ord's words had struck deep within the hearts of Myrmeen, Shandower, and the Harpers. Krystin felt an elation that was difficult to hide when Myrmeen finally hung her head and whispered, "We shouldn't have made it so easy for the thief in the first place."

Reisz frowned and looked away. "Let's move on. We'll be more careful next time."

The group remained together in a tight formation as they made the journey back to the inn, where their mounts were tethered. The streets already were filled with people, and Krystin wondered if there ever was a time when Calimport truly slept. The people of the city seemed to maintain shifts to keep the busy trade streets bustling at all times. The Harpers merged with the crowds whenever possible. On a barren street they would have attracted attention, but here they were invisible.

They passed street performers who sang of sad, mournful times, then collected the guilt and sympathy of the crowds in the form of their loose change. A contortionist executed a bone-snapping arrangement of his limbs that had the two dozen men and women gathered about him clapping and shouting in approval. Krystin watched a dark-skinned young man place a series of towering obstacles in his way. He approached them with a running start and vaulted over them, one after another, without touching them with any part of his body. The display was impressive, and Krystin felt a slight flush in her cheeks as she watched the young man's sweaty body as he spiraled in midair and surmounted each obstacle with matchless grace. Moments later the boy walked past her and the musky scent of him made her weak for an instant.

She did not know why the sight of him had affected her so strongly. She had never felt much of an interest in boys; most of those she had met were not worth her time. Nevertheless, since Ord had been paying her such close attention, Krystin had found herself thinking about them with increasing regularity.

Krystin suddenly felt a sharp tug at her waist. She looked down in time to see a curved blade slicing at the golden threads of her waist sash with practiced ease.

"No!" she shouted, realizing that she was about to fall victim to one of the city's many thieves. Twisting away from the blade, not caring if she was cut by its razor-sharp edge, Krystin unwittingly helped the thief slice open her waist sash. There was a slight ripping noise that was absorbed by the sounds of the crowd in the marketplace, and the fistful of gold that she had sewn into the lining rained down to the paved street. With a cry of agony, Krystin dropped to her knees, searching desperately for the emerald locket, which might have fallen as well.

"Krystin!" Myrmeen shouted in genuine distress. All she had seen was Krystin doubling over, as if she had been stabbed. From the periphery of her vision Myrmeen thought she had seen the pale gray arc of a steel blade slicing through the air like a hawk closing in for the kill.

Then she saw the gold at Krystin's feet. A frenzy had already begun. Strangers coalesced on the spot, dropping to their hands and knees to snatch at the gold pieces that were scattered on the ground. Hanging from the girl's sash was the emerald locket that Myrmeen had refused to purchase the day before. Myrmeen snatched the locket from her daughter's waist. Krystin looked up and parted with a wail of sheer agony that brought the crowd to an abrupt, eerie silence.

"Come with me," Myrmeen said. Grabbing Krystin's limp body by the arm, she lifted the girl into the air and set her on her feet as if she were a child just learning to walk. The Harpers tried to hurry away from the pocket of rapidly swelling attention that they had caused. Only the intervention of the swarthy-skinned acrobat had kept the people from following them as if they were the newest attraction.

"Another show," he announced, his gaze following Krystin. She was too grief-stricken to respond with anything more than a tear-filled nod of gratitude. Within minutes the Harper group was far from the crowd, but Myrmeen had no interest in talking to the girl until she had her alone. They arrived at the stables and Myrmeen ordered the others to remain behind while she dragged Krystin inside and found a recently vacated stall. The stench of dung rose to Krystin's nose and made her cough.

Myrmeen held up the locket as if it were a totem of her power over the young woman. "Explain this."

"Give it back," Krystin said, her gaze riveted to the emerald surface. All of her strength was suddenly devoted to restraining the urge to leap at the woman. The palms of her hands became clammy.

"This means so much to you," Myrmeen said in a tired, distant voice. It was the same voice that had pronounced death, life imprisonment, or worse in her tribunal of justice.

Krystin recognized the tone in her voice. Myrmeen had become detached. "I'll tell you where the rest of your gold is buried if you give me back the locket."

"Why don't you try taking it from me? You took what was mine without a second thought last night. Why should this be any different?"

"I had to have it," Krystin said. "You don't understand."

"You're right, I don't."

"What is it you want?" Krystin said, amazed by the tears that were leaking from the corners of her eyes. "If you want me to leave, I'll go. Just give me the locket."

"This bauble is more important to you than learning the truth?"

Krystin was suddenly struck with a new vision, one of a scarred, black-haired man with rotten teeth. He raised the shattered leg of a table over his head and was about to bring it down on her face. Instinctively, she backed away and cowered, her hands rising up to ward off the blow in the manner of a frightened child, not a trained warrior.

"I'm not going to hit you," Myrmeen said.

Suddenly Krystin remembered where she was. The disquieting vision had faded. Myrmeen handed the locket to Krystin. "Take it. If it means so much more to you than the trust I've placed in you, then go ahead."

The young woman did not hesitate. She snatched the locket from Myrmeen's hand. The metal was surprisingly cold and offered little comfort as she watched Myrmeen walk away. The sight infused her with a sudden panic. She did not wish to be left alone.

"I'll retrieve the rest of the gold," Krystin said.

Myrmeen did not stop.

"Just give me a chance. I'll go to the owner of the Bloodstained Sword and confess," Krystin pleaded.

"As you will," Myrmeen said, her voice hollow. She had not slowed.

Clutching the locket, Krystin hurried after her. "I won't lie to you ever again!"

Myrmeen stopped dead, her body tensing. "Two out of three, child. I'll believe two out of three."

They walked on in silence, the fragile bond between them strained almost to breaking.