Traitor's Moon

home, all crushed under the Plenimaran’s unchecked onslaught. Words from his vision came backwith new resonance:
You are the bird who makes its nest on the waves
.
    Could that have been a portent of their failure? And what of Seregil? Sent to guide and protect, could there be redemption for him on either side of the Osiat Sea?
    By the time the river came into sight Alec’s muscles were cramped and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. Urging his horse across the ford, he pushed on, leaving all but Ariani behind. Swiftest of the pack, the Urgazhi scout whipped her foaming horse into a gallop and raced ahead as vanguard.
    Seregil was helping Sergeant Mercalle treat a lame horse in the stable court that afternoon when the chilling wail of an Urgazhi battle cry rang out in the distance.
    The sergeant looked sharply in the direction of the cry. “That’s Ariani!” Whirling to face the startled riders lounging in front of the barracks house, she barked, “Raise the alarm! There’s trouble!”
    The cry came again, closer now, and the sound of it raised the hair on the back of Seregil’s neck as he ran for the street. Kheeta, Rhylin, and the men of the current watch stood on the upper steps, shading their eyes.
    â€œHere she comes!” Rhylin shouted.
    Ariani came into sight down the street, her blond braid flying. Reaching them, she reined in sharply. “A Haman attacked Klia!” she cried as her lathered horse wheezed and sidled. “Alec’s bringing her. They’re right behind me. By the Four, send for a healer!”
    Kheeta dashed off.
    â€œHow bad?” Seregil demanded.
    â€œOne of the Haman tried to strangle her.”
    â€œWhich Haman?”
    â€œI’m not sure, my lord, but Alec caught the son of a whore at it.”
    â€œWhere was the captain?” asked Mercalle.
    â€œNever mind that now!” barked Seregil. “There’s a shutter there in the hall. Fetch it, quickly!”
    A small group of riders had come into sight down the street and he saw Alec in the forefront, clutching a limp body against him one-armed. Beka, Nyal, and the Haman khirnari trailed behind him.
    Reaching the house, Alec reined in, his face white with anger or exhaustion. From the looks of his bloodied right hand, he’d fought for her.
    â€œIs she alive?” Seregil asked, gripping Windrunner’s head stall.
    â€œI think so,” Alec rasped, still clasping her. “Seregil, it was Emiel. He did this”
    â€œBastard!” Memories of surrendering himself to the hands of that man hit Seregil like a fresh kick in the gut. He fought them down and helped Mercalle lift Klia down onto the shutter, thankful that the others knew nothing yet of the use it had already seen that day.
    Mercalle and Beka hovered just behind Seregil as he knelt over Klia and pushed the tangled hair back from her face. She was cold and her breath came in tortured gasps. The delicate skin beneath her eyes was tinged an ominous blue. Examining her hands, Seregil saw that some of the nails were thinly edged with dried blood.
    Good for you!
he thought. With any luck, he’d leave a few marks on Emiel himself before the day was over.
    She gave a choked gasp and opened her eyes.
    â€œIt’s all right,” he said, clasping her hand.
    Klia’s fingers closed over his in a punishing grip. Her mouth moved, forming soundless words.
    â€œWhat is she saying?” asked Alec, crouched beside him.
    Seregil leaned down, ear close to her lips.
    â€œNo—no vengeance,” she managed. No teth—”
    â€œNo teth’sag?”
    She nodded. “My order. The treaty—all that matters.”
    â€œWe understand, Commander,” Beka grated out. “I’ll bear witness to it.”
    â€œAnd so will I,” Mercalle rasped, tears coursing down her lined cheeks.
    Unable to move or say more, Klia searched each of them out with despairing eyes, as if to impress her will on them.
    Seregil had once seen a fellow traveler swept beneath the ice of a river. It had been clear but too thick to break through. Still alive, the man had stared up into Seregil’s eyes with the same burning desperation for an instant before the current dragged him away.
    Klia went limp, and he felt anxiously at her throat for a pulse.
    â€œHer heart is still strong,” he told the others, reluctantly letting go of her hand. “Where’s Emiel? Teth’sag or