White Road

we’re home free.”
    Seregil had been thinking the same thing, but for later, not now. It had been madness to think that they could take Sebrahn back into Plenimar without someone noticing him. Thero’s disguise was fading away more rapidly now. In the morning light Sebrahn’s skin was blotchy and his hair was more silver than brown. If the Hâzad wanted to look after him while they were gone, he couldn’t think of better caretakers—if Sebrahn let Alec leave. He glanced at Sebrahn ahead of them, riding contentedly on Hâzadriën’s saddlebow. “Maybe he won’t be so quick to defend Alec anymore, now that he’s found another of his own kind.”
    “Don’t let Alec hear you say that. I think he’s heartbroken already.”
    Seregil sighed. “Bilairy’s Balls! Why does he have to love the damn thing so much?”
    “Wouldn’t you if it had your face?”
    “No, I would not!” Seregil whispered.
    “Can you love Sebrahn, who has Alec’s face?”
    “I wish I could. I care for Sebrahn, but keeping him is simply impossible for so many reasons. Alec knows that as well as I do. He just can’t admit it to himself yet.”
    “He’s softer hearted than you.”
    “Soft headed, more like it,” Seregil muttered. It wasn’t the best trait in a nightrunner, but Seregil had to admit it was one of the things he admired about Alec. Still, it wasn’t going to make things any easier when they came back with the book and had to face the inevitable.
    That night they camped beside a small waterfall. As Alec scavenged for firewood, he noticed that there were handprintscarved into the trees here, as there had been at the western end of the trail.
    “This must mark the end of Tamír’s Road,” Seregil said.
    Alec’s heart sank lower; this meant they were that much closer to parting from Sebrahn. He knew Seregil was right about the risk of taking him, and the thought of Sebrahn being torn apart by another alchemist made him sick.
    But what about when we have the book and come back?
Of course Seregil would barter Sebrahn for him; Alec even felt the pricking of guilt. He’d had to choose between the two of them once before; he’d chosen Seregil. He believed he would again, but hoped to hell he didn’t have to.
    They reached the edge of the forest early the following morning. Rolling foothills fell away to a plain, and Alec could just make out the thin blue line of ocean on the horizon.
    “We’ll reach Beggar’s Bridge by tomorrow,” Seregil told them.
    “It’s a Tírfaie town?” asked Rieser.
    “That’s right.”
    “Then my people will go back to the waterfall and make camp there.”
    “We’ll be needing our weapons back,” said Seregil.
    Nowen and Rieser exchanged a look, and the captain nodded.
    Their weapons were returned. Alec smoothed a hand along his bow’s smooth limbs, checking for damage. It was sound, as were the arrows, thank the Light.
    Alec stole a glance in Seregil’s direction, looking for any sign that they were going to fight their way out of this or make a break for it. He’d stayed close to Hâzadriën and figured out half a dozen ways to get Sebrahn away from him when the time came.
    Instead, Seregil turned in the saddle and offered Rieser his hand.
    “Will you keep our bargain now, Bôkthersa?” asked Rieser, ignoring it.
    “We will if you will,” Seregil replied.
    “The tayan’gil will be kept safe, and my people will be here when we return. I swear it by Aura, and so do they.”
    Seregil turned to Alec. “Well?”
    It was tempting to refuse. He even thought of letting Seregil and Micum go without him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that, either.
    “Alec?” Seregil gave him an apologetic look.
    There didn’t seem to be any way out. Dread settled in the pit of Alec’s stomach. “But if they aren’t here, if Sebrahn is gone, then I’ll kill you, Rieser í Stellen, and I’ll track down the others, too. I swear
that
by Aura.”
    Rieser smiled, almost as if he approved. “I know you would, Alec í Amasa.”
    “You should take off your sen’gai here,” Seregil advised. “Aurënen ships often put in at Beggar’s Bridge. Your pattern isn’t one anyone will have seen before. And if you’re caught with it in Plenimar, there’s bound to be trouble.”
    The man unwound the long length of blue-and-white cloth and handed it to the woman named Nowen, who carefully tucked it away in her saddlebag.
    Seregil gave Alec a look that said clear as words,
There’s no help