"I came out to show you where to get washing water, but clearly you knew where to look."

"Hoffyd told us of your customs and showed us the cistern at the guest house.

I a.s.sumed it was the same here." I was fl.u.s.tered and stumbled over the words.

She walked slowly up the steps to the house and paused before opening the door. "And did he also tell you his name, and the prayer we say as we draw water?"

She didn't wait for my answer, but went in and confronted Aleksander, her cheeks and eyes blazing with more than the fire. "I brought you here tonight to learn more of one who bears the feadnach. I could not reconcile a prince of the Derzhi marked with the light of destiny. You told us you were sent here by a slave, and you allowed us to believe it was a youth, a lost one of our own, whom we believed incapable of such a discovery. You lied to me, but it seemed only a small thing compared to the truth of what you carry and your demon enchantment. But I was not easy with it." She tightened her lips and shook her head. "So I decided you should speak to someone else, someone wiser than I, who might unravel the lie. But now I've uncovered another lie, and before we go further, I must know how far I've been deceived."

She faced Aleksander first, closed her eyes, pressed a clenched fist to her breast, and said, "Lys na Catrin." Then she did the same to me. And then she waited, eyes closed. Listening.

"What does she want?" whispered Aleksander.

I sighed and accepted what had always been inevitable. I spoke without whispering. "She has given you an immense gift, my lord-the gift of her name, and the trust and kinship that such a gift bears among Ezzarians. You are her guest, and if you wish to answer in kind, you must do the same."

"But I already told her my name. There's no more of it."

"Give it again-with your unspoken oath that you will never use her name to betray her. Do it here, in this way, and she'll know that you mean it truthfully.

Once done, you will not lie to her."

With his eyes and hands he asked if he should make the same gestures as she had done, and I nodded. So he clenched his fist before his breast, closed his eyes, and said, "My name is Aleksander Jenyazar Ivaneschi zha Denischkar."

Then it was my turn. She had not yet moved. I lowered my hood, closed my eyes, and clenched my fist until I thought blood might drip from it. "Lys na Seyonne," I said. "Forgive me."

There was no need to list the offenses for which I needed forgiveness. I had brought my corruption to her home, eaten her food, touched her things, lied to her. But it made no dif- ference if I laid out my faults. She would not hear. When I opened my eyes, Aleksander was watching curiously. The lady's back was disappearing through the inner door, and my heart was stone.

"I must go before she comes back," I said.

"You were wrong," said the Prince. "She saw you very clearly. And it was not with hatred or disgust or anything you expected."

"It was shock. Surprise. She won't slip again. I only hope I've not hurt your chances for their help. I have to leave."

Aleksander shook his head. "It was not that kind of shock. I think you should stay."

There were steps beyond the doorway, and I was in a frenzy to be gone.

"Please, my lord. I cannot stay here."

"And where do you think to go, a boy like you, incompetent, ignorant, imperceptive, and ill-suited to your most considerable ... ah, Verdonne have mercy ... your most considerable gifts?"

In the doorway, leaning on Catrin's arm, was an old man. A shock of unruly white hair stuck straight up above a square face that was bounded by the most stubborn jaw anyone ever owned. He wore a dark red dressing gown and the bent posture of age, but his dark eyes snapped with everything of life.

"Master Galadon." I whispered the name, then held up my hands between us, palms spread wide as if I could hide behind their meager shelter. I could not bear for my beloved mentor to see what I had become.

"Is it you, boy? Come here to me." Catrin eased him into the chair by the fire.

"Gaenad zi," I said, averting my eyes.

"You are most certainly disobedient, but I alone will judge whether or not you are unclean. Now, come here."

I looked to the woman for help, but her eyes, glistening with love and tears, were on the old man. Catrin. Galadon's granddaughter, the dark-eyed sprite who had watched every agonizing step of my training, who had brought me water and sweets when I was exhausted, and who had told me I was strong and marvelous when I would go three days without doing a single thing right. She had been only eleven when I was taken. How could this luminous young woman be Catrin?

Galadon pointed to the rug in front of him. "Here would be a good place."

I knelt on the rug in front of him and kept my hands, palms outward, in front of my face. "Master, it is the blessing of my life to see you, but I must go. I don't belong here."

His face was lined with age and sorrow, but his eyes were lifetimes younger and shed such joyful warmth on me as to melt my frozen soul. Gently grieving, he brushed the scar on my face and touched the slave rings on my wrists, then he took my hands in his warm wrinkled ones. "Tienoch havedd, Seyonne. Vasyd dysyyn." Greetings of my heart, Seyonne. Welcome home.

Chapter 23.

There was very little to be said between Galadon and me. I would not speak to him of the corruption I had lived, and he had no need to tell of sorrows that time and logic had already revealed to me: my father's death and my sister's, the abandonment of Ezzaria and rebuilding here in the wilderness, the fact that my betrothed wife was married to my best friend. I made one tentative query as to Ysanne's well-being, but he refused to speak of her.

In truth, no words could equal the blessing of his greeting. I held it in my ears and in my heart, unwilling to let anything of mine displace it, but afraid the law of silence would yet overtake his lapse of age and grief. "Master," I said softly, pulling my hands away from him. "I must leave you before someone sees. Forgive my coining."

He raised my face to look on his own, allowing me to see tears that no student would ever have believed him capable of shedding. "You have committed no offense, son of my heart, save waiting so long to come back to us."

"The law has not changed," I said, knowing he would not contradict me, even while yearning that he might.

"What law is worth a beetle's ear if it condemns-"

"Please, Master Galadon. If you would do me one service in memory of what has been, then I beg you listen to the Prince's story and warn the others of what it means. Did she tell you-Catrin-did she tell you of the Khelid?"

The old man leaned back in his chair and scowled. "I am to believe this Derzhi's tale? A despicable demon carrier who believes he can own another human being? One who's done these wicked things to you?" He flicked his eyes to Aleksander in disgust, and he could not hide his distress when his glance came back to me.

"I am no matter," I said. "And, yes, you must believe him. We were wrong, Galadon. All these years we believed it was the Derzhi warned of by the Eddaic Prophecy. We thought we had time before they became one with the demons. But I am convinced that the conquerors from the north are the Khelid, not the Derzhi. I have seen the Gai Kyallet and watched it involve other demons in its plotting. And this Prince .. ." In the moment of my speaking, my budding theories blossomed into conviction. "... master, he could be the Warrior of Two Souls."

"Impossible!" Age had done nothing to quiet Galadon's bellow.

Catrin had taken Aleksander across the room and was showing him the weavings hung on the walls. The Prince was listening to her attentively, his hands clasped behind his back. Neither of them took note of Galadon's outburst.

"Look inside him, master," I said, keeping my own voice low. "Even with no power I was near blinded by his fead-nach. Even while living in the shadow of what he is, I have seen the promise of what he could be. I know it's difficult to believe, but it's so clear to me. If ever a man had two souls, it is Aleksander."

But Galadon would not be soothed, nor his long-held convictions shaken.

"You are the Warrior of the prophecies, Seyonne. I've known it since you were a child climbing trees, breathing melydda before you even understood what it was. The Derzhi came down from the north as the Seers foretold, and the First Battle was lost. I know that the Second Battle comes-when the demons will show themselves in the fullness of evil-and you must be ready.

All of us must be ready. We've been preparing, waiting, hoping.... It's why I knew you weren't dead as some among us claimed. All these years I've trusted holy Verdonne to bring you back. She would not leave us without the Warrior.

It's made me rethink everything: the law, the prophecies, our ideas about power and corruption."

"Master, I've been through the Rites. I have nothing-"

But he heeded me no more than a mountain heeds a gnat. "My plan is ready, the groundwork laid, secrets kept and held close, waiting for you to come back and walk the path laid down for you when the world was young. You believe your power is lost. But I believe that you have been forged anew by your suffering-and you will find that the past was but a shadow of your glory."

"Ah, master ..." I would have given my eyes to believe him, but I had lived too long with the truth. "Examine the Prince and tell me what you see."

Aleksander laughed just then, and Catrin, her dark eyes sparkling in the lamplight, laughed with him, a harmony of life and beauty in the sound of their youthful voices.

"Verdonne be merciful," said Galadon. "You care for him. How is that possible?"

"Examine him, master."

The old man glared at me as if I'd put a gutted rabbit in his lap. "Catya, bring me the supplicant."

If I had been a student again, the steel edge to Galadon's tone would have had me running for shelter. Aleksander didn't know anything of likais.

"So what were you arguing about? I thought you two were going to set me bawling like a Suzaini granny with your sweet reunion, and then, after the old buzzard turns me inside out and leaves me feeling like a puddle of spit, you start yelling at each other."

"I wasn't yelling."

"Well, he was yelling enough for both of you, and it was you he was aiming at."

Aleksander and I were hurrying down the snowy forest path, back toward the village. Catrin had been planning to escort us, but her grandfather was exhausted and needed her care. Galadon could be not a day less than eighty, and though his stubborn spirit refused to admit it, his body clearly knew. The moon was up and full. We weren't going to get lost.

I was anxious to get back to the guest house, where I could sit in the dark and think. I needed to clear the muddle Galadon had made of my head. It hadn't helped that he'd started setting me to recite things for him as if I were ten years old again: a poem about ships, the words to a song, the spell to ripen fruit, the second propheey of Meddryn, five hundred other snippets of information. I dredged them all out of my head, stumbling over words and inflections, trying to refuse him nothing, who had tried to give me everything.

It went on so long, I couldn't keep all of it straight. He never gave me time to catch a breath ... or to ask him all the questions I longed to have answered.

His plan was set, and he did not deem it necessary to enlighten me as to its details.

"So what was the argument about?"

"It's all bound up in a prophecy," I said, as much to keep the Prince from pestering me with more questions as anything. "For centuries our Seers have predicted that a race of warriors from the north would destroy the world.

There were to be two battles. The first would leave the people wailing in terror, and the world reeking of blood and destruction. The Second Battle would be worse, for the warriors from the north would ally themselves with the demons. The only hope would be another warrior-the Warrior of Two Souls-one destined to return his people to greatness. This person would challenge the Gai Kyallet, the Lord of Demons, and in single combat they would determine the fate of the world."

"And you believe this kind of gibberish?"

"We saw the race of warriors come from the north. And there was no denying the blood or the wailing."

The Prince halted in the middle of the moonlit path. "You think your prophets foretold our coming-the coming of the Derzhi?"

"So my people believe," I said wearily, trudging onward, craving the fire and the blankets that awaited us at the guest house. From houses deep in the trees, I glimpsed flickering firelight. Faint voices and laughter wafted by us on the chilly breeze. There were so many of the lights, I had the pa.s.sing thought that there were more Ezzarians here than Llyr had told me.

The Prince caught up with me and stopped me again, this time holding onto my arm. "But you think something else." How could he be so annoyingly persistent after the past tiring days?

"Don't be offended, my lord, but I think the Derzhi were incidental. Prophecy or no, the Khelid are the real danger. They are the conquerors from the north with no souls. We must face them, and the ranks of the Ezzarians are already decimated." Only three Wardens left, Galadon had said. Only three. Two of them untried students, and the third one Rhys. My friend, who had struggled through his training and come close five times to ending it, had pa.s.sed his testing at last. I had been one of ten experienced Wardens. How was Rhys able to keep up with the burden? "We thought we had time before the Derzhi became one with the demons. That we would have ample warning. But the Khelid are already merged with them. If there is such a being as the Warrior with Two Souls, we'd best find him."

"Sounds a confusing mess-two souls. I can't seem to deal with one properly, according to you. So what of this Galadon? Can he get rid of my curse? He wouldn't answer when I asked him."

"He told me it would be very difficult." Galadon had told me it was impossible, that the damage already done was too severe. Attempting to excise the enchantment would destroy Aleksander, and it might draw the demons' attention just when we could least afford it. Galadon claimed that his plans-including myself-could not be risked. That had been only one of our disagreements. "But someone will take care of it. You will be healed. It is necessary. Critical. They'll see it."

"d.a.m.n. You're not thinking to convince them that I am your Warrior of Two Souls? Is that what this feadnach foolishness is?"

"I don't know what to think. I can't think. I'm not sure I want to think." I pushed his hand away as if it was not a hand that could take my life at any instant. "Galadon has very different ideas than mine." And budging the stubborn old man seemed impossible.

"Well, whatever you're thinking, keep me out of it, Ez-zarian. I am not here to prance around, pretending I believe in any barbarian prophecies. I might as likely believe in the warrior on the tapestries the woman just showed me-a warrior with wings fighting a monster with only a knife and a looking gla.s.s. I will deal with the Khelid the moment I can hold a sword again."

"It seems foolish, doesn't it?" I tried to put it all out of mind. "Whatever comes, please don't mention any of this to the Queen in the morning. Nothing of Galadon or Catrin. If anyone finds out I'm here and they've spoken to me, their lives will be very hard. It is a violation of their law."

Aleksander shook his head. "And you call the Derzhi cruel! I don't understand this kind of punishment. Invisibility. Wouldn't a good beating or a nice hanging suffice?"

"Trade places with me for a day, my lord, and tell me which beating is a good one and which hanging is nice."

"I stand by my point."

"You must understand. Ezzarians spend their lives battling demons. They have to make sure that there is no possible channel through which a demon may reach them. No evil. No impurity. Our history tells us of horrors that can result when a demon follows a path of corruption back to those who are fighting it. I suppose we took it too far. Perhaps our attempt to protect ourselves has coiled about on its own tail and devours us. I don't know anymore."

We walked in silence until we broke through the edge of the trees. Though the valley lay frosted and still in the moonlight, spring was in the air, a moist earthiness beyond the night's chill that soothed the soul with the promise of warmth and growing. I inhaled deeply.

"Who is this old man, Seyonne? I wouldn't have thought anyone could set you so at odds with yourself."

I laughed. "Haven't you guessed it? He was my likai."

At the very moment I said the word, Aleksander's boot broke through an ice- crusted puddle. He slipped and cracked a knee on a sharp rock. "d.a.m.nation!"

he said, sitting down hard and pressing a gloved hand over his bleeding knee.

Whether it was the sudden injury, the thought of Dmitri, or the combination of the two, in one stomach-wrenching instant I felt evety shred of warmth sucked out of my body.

"Blessed Athos," said Aleksander, clamping his fists to his temples. "Not again." He struggled to his feet and sucked in a harsh breath.

I grabbed his arm and pulled. "Hurry. Come back to the trees." I suppose I held some faint hope that the enchantments woven about the edge of the woods might forestall the demon transformation, but as I helped the limping Aleksander across the barrier, it seemed I only made things worse. His body jerked in tortured spasm, and he cried out. The searing heat that poured off him forced me to drop his arm and fall back. He bent double and sank to his knees, groaning in mortal anguish, his torso stretching into impossible shapes, while his human aspect wavered and faded with agonizing swiftness.

"My lord, you are in control," I said, but the stray beam of moonlight illuminating his terror-filled eyes told me otherwise. No more than three minutes pa.s.sed, and 1 stood facing a maddened shengar, jaws gaping wide as it roared its fury and pain. One paw was b.l.o.o.d.y, and the limping beast began to circle around behind me. Smoothly, slowly, I turned with it. "My lord, take hold of my voice. Keep the door open. Your pain will ease."

The huge cat screamed again in the harsh, bone-chilling cry of a tortured woman, so much more fearful than the throatier roar of larger beasts. I stood absolutely immobile, allowing the restless beast to examine me. I kept talking, but words seemed to make him angrier, so I fell silent, whispering my chant under my breath. "Stay calm, Aleksander. You are stronger than the beast. It is only the pain. The surprise.

The crossing of an unholy enchantment with the weaving of light. I should have known. I'm sorry."

He did not attack. Rather, after a while, he loped off into the dark woodland. I sagged limp against the trunk of a towering fir, praying there were no Ezzarians wandering the forest that night. A shifting wind moved the trees, almost blinding me with the beams of the full moon. Distant laughter floated on the breeze along with wood smoke ... oh, breath of Verdonne ... of course there were Ezzarians out. It was the first full moon of spring-the birth of a new season. The night Ezzarian families built fires outside and told stories until dawn. A night of merriment and excitement for children allowed to stay up late. A night of wonder and companionship. Grabbing a thick branch broken from the fir, I took out after Aleksander, wondering if, after sixteen years, my legs remembered how to run.

I heard him crashing through the brush ahead of me. I leaped fallen trees and ducked under limbs and paid no heed to scrub and branches that tore at my clothes. Occasionally I caught sight of the dark blur leaping with ease over obstacles I had to climb. But soon I smelled wood smoke, and I could no longer hear his pa.s.sing. Perhaps it was only my terror, but I believed I heard the soft snarl of wicked antic.i.p.ation as he slipped nearer the merry fire just ahead. I circled wide and ran toward the fire. "Wildcat!" I screamed.

"Shengar! Take the children and get inside!"

I didn't stop to explain to the five or six yelling adults who leaped from the ground and s.n.a.t.c.hed up whimpering children. I just dipped my branch in their fire, prayed it to catch quickly, and kept my ears focused on the snarl of fury to my left. He was moving. I threw down my still-unlit stick and picked up one the Ezzarians had left poking into the fire to stir the coals. It was too thin and would burn down quickly as I ran, but I couldn't wait. Aleksander was running. As I took after him, I heard a shocked voice from behind me.

"Ver-donne's mercy. Seyonne?"

The shengar had found a game trail. A clearer path, easier to run. But it meant he was faster. Shengars were not like the kayeets of the desert who were the fastest beasts known in the world, fleeter than the graceful dune-runners and sand-deer who were their prey.