White Road

on, then led the horses into an alley and left Rieser there to guard them while he and Micum kept watch for Seregil. It was cloudy tonight; Alec couldn’t see the stars to judge how long Seregil had been gone, but it felt too long now.
    Seregil paused in the hallway just long enough to snuff out the nearest night lamp. Then, bracing himself for a sudden dash, he carefully opened Ulan’s chamber door and slipped inside.
    There was no night lamp, a fact Seregil was instantly grateful for when he heard the rustle of bedclothes and an old man’s whispered, “Who’s there? Urien?”
    “No, Khirnari, just Ilar,” Seregil whispered back, trying to match Ilar’s slightly tremulous timbre.
    “What is it, dear fellow? Why aren’t you on watch?”
    Seregil took a cautious step forward, following the sound of the man’s voice. “I thought I heard something.”
    There was more rustling and the creak of the bed ropes as Ulan sat up. “Why didn’t you alert Captain Urien?”
    “I thought the sound came from your room, Khirnari. I just wanted to see if you were safe.” Seregil could tell he was nearly within arm’s reach of the man. There was an unhealthy smell in the room; Ulan was sick.
    And needs a rhekaro to heal him
. It must be something serious for him to take such risks.
    “Ah, well then, I’m fine. Go back to the library, Ilar.”
    Seregil reached out and grasped the old man’s thin hair. Placing the edge of his knife to Ulan’s throat, he brought their faces close together and hissed, “I have other plans, Khirnari.”
    “Seregil?” Ulan sounded less surprised than Seregil would have liked. “So I suppose you’ve killed Ilar and now you mean to kill me?”
    At this distance, the sickly sweet smell of his illness was strong—something in the lungs, perhaps.
    “I’d rather not,” Seregil replied. “All I want are the books.”
    “What do you need with them? You have the rhekaro.”
    “You know why, Khirnari.”
    “It would be comforting to think you meant to use them as I do, but that isn’t so, is it? You want to destroy them, and all the knowledge they contain.”
    Seregil wrinkled his nose at the sickly smell on the man’s breath. “You’re dying.”
    “By inches. I don’t have long. Not without the rhekaro’s elixir.”
    Elixir?
thought Seregil.
Does he really know so little about them, even with the books?
“I know the books are in here, and I know where. I’m going to ask you to keep very quiet while I take them, otherwise I will slit your throat.”
    “It seems I underestimate you, even now,” Ulan whispered.
    “Let’s just say I’m here to collect a debt on behalf of my talímenios. One it would not do for your people to hear about, eh?”
    “Or yours.”
    Seregil wished he could see the man’s face now, not liking his tone.
    “You know what would happen if your sister learned of my actions toward you and Alec,” Ulan went on.
    “You’re actually willing to risk a war to save your own life?”
    “Not my life, my clan! Give me the rhekaro and you can have the books. I swear by Aura, I will never trouble you or your talímenios again.”
    “I don’t know what your word is worth these days, old man. Not that it matters. We don’t have the rhekaro anymore.”
    For the first time Ulan’s voice betrayed a hint of alarm. “Where is it?”
    “Far from your grasp. I swear by Aura, too, so give up any hope of that. How long do you have? A handful of months?”
    “Less than that. Weeks perhaps.”
    “Do you really think that’s long enough to find someone else to work that filthy magic for you?”
    “With the books, I can work it myself. Alchemy isn’t our sort of magic; it’s simply joining the right elements in the right manner.”
    “The most important of those elements being Alec’s blood. No, Ulan. Give it up.”
    A cold hand closed around Seregil’s wrist. “You may keep the brown and the blue books, and Alec; I’m willing to accept the rhekaro and the red book.”
    “No. The rhekaro is a living creature. He feels pain, and Alec told me what Yhakobin did to him. But it’s a moot point anyway. I told you, we don’t have him.”
    “You’re lying.”
    “I’m assuming you’ve had us watched. Did any of your spies see a child with us?”
    “You’ve hidden him!” Just then a violent coughing fit seized the old man, and he dug his fingers into Seregil’s wrist until it passed. It was brief, but when he wiped his lips on the edge of the white