White Road

chilled.” Alec got the rest of Seregil’s wet things off him and got him under the covers, then found dry clothing for himself among the things they’d left on board.
    Seregil was dozing when Micum and the healer returned.
    “How is Rieser?” asked Alec as Konthus set to work looking Seregil over.
    “Not well, I’m afraid,” the young drysian replied. “The arrow struck under the left collarbone and went through to break his shoulder blade. It’s a painful wound, and will be a slow one to heal.”
    “Konthus had to cut out the arrowhead, but Rieser never made a sound,” Micum told them.
    The arrow in Seregil’s side had lodged between two ribs, breaking one but not penetrating to the lung. Seregil gritted his teeth as the drysian worked the arrowhead free and packed the wound with herbs and salved linen. When he was finished, he had Alec help Seregil onto his stomach anddeftly sewed up the gash across his back with linen thread. He bandaged both wounds, then splinted the broken finger and said several healing spells over Seregil.
    “That’s all I can do for now,” he said, washing his hands in the basin and going to the door.
    “Thank you,” Seregil murmured, relaxing as the magic took hold.
    “Send one of your friends for me if you need help with the pain. Maker’s mercy on you.”
    “Rieser wouldn’t let the fellow magic him,” Micum said when he was gone. “Wouldn’t say why, but I suppose it was too Tír for his liking.”
    “No doubt.” Seregil pulled weakly at the collar still around his neck. “This off. Now.”
    Micum drew his knife and carefully slid it under the edge of the collar at the flanges. Holding the collar steady, he sawed through the lead rivet and pulled the collar open far enough to slip it from Seregil’s neck.
    “A free man at last!” Seregil said with a hoarse laugh.
    The metal had chafed a bit, Alec saw, leaving a band of reddened skin on Seregil’s neck. It made him think of Ilar, who’d worn a collar so long the skin under it was worn white. They’d left him there in Plenimar without a collar, or any slave marks, but his scars would surely give him away.
    You know what they’ll do to me!
    Alec knew. “Maybe we should have gone back for him,” he muttered aloud.
    “Ilar, you mean?” Seregil asked. “It would have been suicide. Why didn’t he stay with Ulan? Or ride out after us?” He closed his eyes again, but not before Alec caught a fleeting look of regret. “I thought he’d be safe with Ulan.”
    “Perhaps he still will be,” said Micum, but he sounded less than convinced.

CHAPTER 32
Curious Allies
    R IESER had left Nowen in charge. It should have been easy duty, watching Sebrahn and looking out for anyone traveling this way.
    The last of the Tír magic had worn off; Sebrahn was as pale as Hâzadriën, with the same silver-white hair, neatly cut and braided now. She’d shaken her head over the ignorance of the ya’shel, to feed him every day. He was a beautiful little thing, but for the lack of wings, and seemingly devoted to Hâzadriën, as the older tayan’gil was to him. The two were inseparable. It was not uncommon for tayan’gils to flock together, but this one called Sebrahn was almost childlike in his manner. He climbed into Hâzadriën’s lap whenever he sat down, and curled up next to him with his head in Hâzadriën’s lap at night, saying “Sleeping,” in his strange raspy voice. If anyone tried to make him leave the tayan’gil’s side, he said, very distinctly, “No.” It sent a shiver up Nowen’s back every time he spoke.
    Tayan’gils were—apart. Or they should be. Back home she seldom saw them, and when she did they were little more than a curiosity unless a healing was needed. The Hâzadriëlfaie valued them deeply for that ability, knowing the price. Every one of the creatures had been born of suffering and servitude, and no Hâzad liked being reminded of that. The fact that Sebrahn acted more like a real living being only made this more obvious.
    But she had other, more troubling concerns right now.
    “Did you see any of them?” she asked Rane and Sona, who’d just come back from a hunting expedition.
    “Yes, and there are more today.”
    Day by day, the answer was the same. Nowen had never had any bad experience with the Retha’noi; they kept mostly to their peaks, and when they did descend to trade and barter, they were usually friendly and bothered no one. Turmay and Naba had been instrumental in