White Road

away from the noise of the street. The room’s single window overlooked a cheerless yard with sheets drying on a line stretched between the back of the inn and the sturdy shed that served as a slave pen. Beyond that, a low wall blocked what appeared to be an alleyway.
    “What about these?” the man asked, jerking a thumb at Alec and the others. “I can take them out to the pen for you, if you like, and see that they get a decent meal.”
    “In a bit,” Micum replied. “I need them for a few things first.”
    “Ulan has a house near the waterfront,” Micum told them as soon as the man was gone.
    “Then it’s time to get rid of our unwelcome follower,”Seregil said. He leaned out the window for a moment, then turned back to the rest of them. “There’s no one around right now.”
    Slinging on their packs, the four of them went out the window and over the wall. Micum grunted as Alec gave him a leg up.
    “I miss the days when I didn’t need the help,” he muttered. Fortunately the wall was low enough for him to drop down on the other side without assistance.
    The alley was littered with rotting fruits and vegetables that stuck to their shoes and sent up a sour stink. At the far end was a marketplace full of farmers’ carts and booths. They scuffed their shoes clean against the cobbles, then doubled back to the waterfront and the street Micum’s idlers had pointed him to. There was no sign of the man who’d followed them.
    “Who do you suppose set him on us?” Micum wondered, still keeping his voice low and a sharp eye out. “No one knows we’re here. Even if that man at the alchemist’s house got a good look at you, there’s no way he’d know you in that getup.”
    Seregil’s grey eyes were serious above the veil. “I don’t know, and I don’t like it.”
    “If he did, he’d probably have set the slave takers on us, rather than following us,” said Alec. “How are we going to get the horses back?”
    “They’re safe for now,” Micum replied. “Once it’s dark, we’ll go back and claim them.”
    With Micum in the lead, they strolled down the quays to a street that ran along the harbor’s edge. The houses here were like the walled villas of Wheel Street, except that the dressed stone walls were much higher, hiding the houses inside completely. Two guards wearing the sen’gai of Virésse flanked the gate of a house midway down, on the water side. Ulan’s pennant fluttered on a short pole set into the stonework.
    “So there you are, you old fox,” muttered Seregil.
    “He must be held in high esteem, to be safe staying here so close to the slave markets,” Rieser whispered back.
    “Virésse trades with Plenimar. Always has. I didn’t expect him to have a house here, though.”
    Ulan was in the library, recovering from a particularly bad coughing fit, when Ilar came in without knocking and closed the door behind him. Ulan quickly balled up his bloodied handkerchief and kept it hidden in one hand.
    A hectic flush colored Ilar’s cheeks as he stood shaking with barely contained excitement. Closing the door, he hugged himself and whispered, “They are here, Khirnari! Your man at the north gate saw them come in this afternoon.”
    “Do they have the rhekaro with them?” Not even the pain still lingering in his chest could spoil this heartening news. It was the first news he’d had of them since his spy aboard the
Lady
had gone silent.
    “No, but Alec is there, with Seregil and the red-haired Tír. The other ’faie is still with them, too. The spy is certain it’s them.”
    “What did he say?”
    “There’s no mistaking them. Alec’s hair is brown now, but the eyes are the same—a most distinct dark shade of blue. The spy got a good look at him and the red-haired Tír when the guards searched them. The Tír is playing the master.”
    “Clever boys. How long ago did they arrive?”
    “No more than two hours. Your man followed them to the waterfront and heard them asking about you. Some men told the Tír about this house. They didn’t come this way, though. He followed them to an inn in a street called Irsan. He waited to see if they came out again, but they didn’t, so he came back.”
    “No matter. We know that they’re coming,” Ulan said with a smile of satisfaction. “Ilar, I must ask you to be my watchman. There is no one else whom I can trust with the task. No one else must know of the books.”
    “I understand, Khirnari, but what if they see me?” Ilar