White Road

linen sheet, the cloth came away spotted dark. “I am dying,” Ulan told him, wheezing a little. “And I cannot let that happen. Not while Gedre fai’thast remains an open port, draining away our trade. That was never meant to be part of the bargain. The Skalan queen regularly sends emissaries there, and I have reason to believe that she and the Gedre khirnari mean to renege on the pact and keep the port open to Tír trade even when her war is finished.”
    “Surely there’s enough trade for both of you?”
    “Now, perhaps, but when the war and their need for Aurënfaie horses and steel is past, what then? No! We were betrayed and I will not die before my clan is made secure and prosperous again. Charis Yhakobin made that rhekaro for me, and I mean to have it, or another in its place. Or you can kill me now to stop me. The choice is yours.”
    “I may be an outcast, teth’brimash, but I will not spill a khirnari’s blood,” Seregil told him between clenched teeth. “Not even yours. And do you even know what a rhekaro really is? A distillation of the blood of the Great Dragon thatmade us, carried in the veins of a chosen few, the ones who call themselves the Hâzadriëlfaie.
That
is what you sold into the hands of someone like Yhakobin.”
    “One does what one must for the clan.”
    Resisting the urge to shake the old man, Seregil took out the lightstone and tossed it on the bed, then cut the cords of the bed curtains. Ulan’s bones felt brittle as wheat straw as he bound him.
    Ulan’s sharp old gaze never left Seregil’s face as he worked. It was a little unnerving. “You’re a fool, Seregil í Korit. With the rhekaro that is already made, I would have all I need to save my people. No one would have to suffer.”
    “Except the rhekaro.” Who knew what was in those books, what it took to make these elixirs? Seregil suppressed a shudder, thinking of all Alec had told him of what had been done to Sebrahn and his predecessor. He thought of Sebrahn playing with the dragons, fidgeting off his shoes, climbing into his lap like a real child …
    “A small price to pay!” hissed Ulan.
    “You have it backwards, old man. You should be spending these last days grooming your successor, not torturing those weaker than yourself. Everyone dies.”
    And Alec?
Seregil pushed that thought away. That had been Sebrahn’s doing, not his.
    “You will never leave these shores, Seregil. Not alive.”
    Seregil gave him a crooked grin as he gagged him with a blood-spotted handkerchief. “I’m not a man you want to gamble against, Khirnari.” Once Ulan was secured, Seregil went to work finding the books, aware every moment of Ulan’s hate-filled gaze upon him, and his ineffectual pulling at his bonds.
    The bed was built of polished casework, and there were three panels in the headboard. It took only a moment to find the secret latch in the narrow space between two of them and lift it with the point of the knife. The center panel came loose, revealing three books stacked neatly in the dusty space behind. They were large and heavy, and strained the sides of the bag Seregil had brought with him; he had been expecting only one.
    Taking up his lightstone again, he looked down at Ulan for a moment, almost reveling in the fury of the glare directed back at him. “I don’t expect this to be the end of things between us, Khirnari. But I won’t be so merciful next time, if you come after us.”
    Tucking the lightstone back in his tool roll, he went to the door and listened for a moment. “Good-bye, Ulan í Sathil. Pray to Aura our paths never cross again.”
    Alec heaved an inward sign of relief when he saw a dark form slide down the rope. Leaving Micum in the shadows, he stole out to meet Seregil.
    Found it?
he signed, noting the heavy bag swinging against Seregil’s side.
    Seregil nodded and held up three fingers, then signed back,
Go, hurry!
    He followed them up the street to the alley where Rieser waited for them with the horses.
    “Success?” asked Micum, also noting the bag.
    “Yes. Ulan saw me and it probably won’t be long before we have company.”
    “We should leave the horses and steal more when we can,” said Rieser. “That is what I would do. Horses will be too loud and noticeable this time of the night.”
    “So they will,” said Seregil, heading for the narrow passageway at the far end of the alley.
    When the door opened again so soon Ulan thought perhaps the young Bôkthersan had come back to