Traitor's Moon

however, he let out a sharp hiss of suprise as something hot and smooth skittered over his left hand. Before he could pull it back, the unseen creature had clenched itself around his wrist. Needle teeth pierced the fleshy part of his palm just below the thumb, spreading quickly to engulf his entire hand.
    A dragon, and one at least the size of a cat, judging by the weight.
    Seregil willed himself not to move. The beast released him, dropped to his naked thigh, and scrambled away.
    Seregil held still until he was certain it was gone, then cradled his hand against his chest. What was a dragon that size doing so far from the mountains, and how venomous was such a bite? This made him think of Thero, and he choked back an hysterical laugh.
    â€œThat will leave a lucky mark.”
    Seregil jerked his head up. Less than a foot to his left squatted the glowing, naked form of a rhui’auros. The man’s broad face looked vaguely familiar. He had thickly drawn markings on his large hands. His muscular chest was covered with others that seemed to move with a life of their own as he reached to examine Seregil’s wound.
    There was no light; Seregil couldn’t even see his own hand, but he could see the rhui’auros as clearly as if they both sat in daylight.
    â€œI remember you. Your name is Lhial.”
    â€œAnd you are called the Exile now, yes? The Dragon now follows the Owl.”
    This last phrase sounded familiar somehow, but he couldn’t place it, though he recognized the two references to Aura: the dragons of Aurënen, the owls of Skala.
    The rhui’auros cocked his head, regarding him quizzically. “Come, little brother, let me see your newest wound.”
    Seregil didn’t move. This was one of those who’d interrogated him. “Why did you ask me to come here?” he asked at last, his voice hardly more than a hoarse whisper.
    â€œYou have been on a long journey. Now you have returned.”
    â€œYou cast me out,” Seregil retorted bitterly.
    The rhui’auros smiled. “To live, little brother. And you have. Now give me your hand before it swells any more.”
    Baffled, Seregil watched as his hand became visible at the rhui’auros’s touch. A soft glow spread out from the two of them, brightening the tiny chamber and making both of them visible. Lhial moved closer so that their bare knees touched.
    Prodding gently at one of the bruises on Seregil’s chest, he shook his head. “This accomplishes nothing, little brother. There is other work ahead for you.”
    Turning his attention to Seregil’s hand, he inspected the bite. Parallel lines of punctures oozed blood on the lower palm and the back of his hand where the dragon’s jaws had clamped around the base of his thumb. The rhui’auros produced a vial of lissik and massaged the dark salve into the wound. “You remember that night you were brought here?” he asked, not looking up.
    â€œHow could I not?”
    â€œDo you know why?”
    â€œTo be tried. To be exiled.”
    Lhial smiled to himself. “Is that what you’ve thought, all these years?”
    â€œWhy then?”
    â€œTo tinker with your fate, little brother.”
    â€œI don’t believe in fate.”
    â€œAnd you suppose that makes any difference?”
    The rhui’auros looked up with an amused smile, and Seregil recoiled against the dhima wall. Lhial’s eyes had gone the color of hammered gold.
    An image leapt into Seregil’s mind: the shining golden eyes of the khtir’bai gazing at him from the darkness that night in the Asheks.
    You have much to do, son of Korit
.
    â€œI walk the banks of time,” Lhial told him softly. “Looking at you, I see all your births, all your deaths, all the works the Lightbearer has prepared for you. But time is a dance of many steps and missteps. Those of us who see must sometimes act. Dwai sholo was not your dance. I made certain of that the night you were brought here, and so you were spared for other labors. Some you have already accomplished.”
    â€œWas Nysander’s death part of this dance?”
    The golden eyes blinked slowly. “What you and he accomplish together is. He dances willingly, your friend. His khi soars like a hawk from beneath your broken sword. He dances still. So should you.”
    Tears blurred Seregil’s vision. He swiped at them with his free hand, then looked up into eyes again blue and