"We could not say them without risking the wrath of the new Tyr'agar. But here," Jevri said,

removing the first of the skins. "This is water from the lake of the Tor; his ashes were taken by water and wind.

"With these, we can offer the Lady's blessing."

And then, weary, Jevri el'Sol closed his eyes and leaned back into the cus.h.i.+ons that Mareo di'Lamberto had provided for the oldest of his family's serafs. He made no pretense of freedom, did Jevri, although by Lord's law, it was his.

"Thank you, old friend," Mareo told the sleeping man as he rose, and very quietly ran a hand along his eyes. "Thank you for bringing my brother home."

Jevri, sleeping, did not answer.

"I'll speak to you again in the morning, after we have performed the Lady's rites for our fallen."

Again no reply.

But Mareo di'Lamberto knew that Jevri el'Sol, that Jevri kep'Lamberto, was awake because, from beneath the lids of wrinkled eyes that had seen far too much, came a thin trail of tears.

He set Balagar beside the old man, and said, softly, "You guarded this all the way home, Jevri kep'Lamberto. Guard it for one more night."