White Road

killed themselves soon after their return. Only the ones who hadn’t been in captivity more than a few months ever really recovered. “What about the rhekaro?” Ulan prompted.
    “Stole it, stole me.”
    “Who did? Seregil?”
    But Ilar did not seem to hear him. “I showed the way. I did!” he cried angrily. “We walked for days and days.” He subsided as quickly as he’d angered, and his gaze began to wander, taking on that vague, glassy look tinged with panic. “It rained so hard! There was no …”
    Ulan quelled an impatient sigh. “The rhekaro, Ilar. What does the rhekaro look like?”
    Ilar shuddered. “The moon. A bone … No, the moon. Alec called him that …”
    “And the wings?”
    Ilar shook his head.
    This was not good news. Yhakobin had been concerned about the first rhekaro he’d made and its lack of wings. It had apparently been useless, and he’d destroyed it. “Tell me more.”
    “It eats Alec’s blood,” Ilar whispered. “And the magic flowers—” He shuddered again as he held out his arm, theone where the brand should have been. “It … Sebrahn! He
hurt
me!”
    “Sebrahn? Is that his name?” It was the Aurënfaie word for “moonlight.” “The rhekaro, Ilar. Tell me more of it.”
    Ilar closed his eyes, as if remembering was an effort. “Silver eyes.”
    “He certainly fits his name,” Ulan said with a smile. “Now, can you tell me how your ilban and his men died?”
    “I don’t know. I ran away and only heard the noise.”
    “What noise?”
    Ilar shook his head. “I don’t know. It was a terrible sound.” He went silent, and Ulan could tell that he’d lost the thread again. “There are always slave takers. Always, and I didn’t have my brand. And they stole my collar, too. I had to wait, then I went back to see.” He paused, eyes brimming with sudden tears. “Like they’d fallen asleep … Just—lying there … Except Ilban. I suppose it must have been Seregil. He—” Ilar paused and wiped his eyes. “Did you really say last night that Seregil is alive, or did I dream that? It’s so hard to tell.”
    “Yes. He and Alec are safe. Why did you think they were dead?”
    “Everyone was dead …”
    Had Seregil and Alec managed to kill Ulan and all of his men? It seemed so, and that they must have been badly wounded. Yet Ilar kept insisting that they looked “beautiful.”
    Ilar wrapped his arms around his chest and rocked miserably. “The birds! I should have known. I should have stayed.”
    “And what about Sebrahn? What happened to the rhekaro?”
    But Ilar just picked at the scabs on his arm, whispering, “I should have stayed. I should have stayed, I should have—”
    “Calm yourself, Ilar. They are still alive, so you might meet them again someday.”
    That got his attention. “Would they come here?”
    “Perhaps.” Not willingly, of course. “We’ll speak more when you are stronger.”
    Ulan left him to rest and made his way out to the balconyoverlooking the harbor. Already the heat of the morning bath was fading away, and the pain creeping back. A cough shook him and he sank into a chair, handkerchief pressed to his mouth.
    If all went well, that would cease to be a problem.

CHAPTER 7
Bôkthersa
    T HE B ÔKTHERSAN FAI ’ THAST encompassed a broad swath of mountains and foothills in the western spur of the Ashek range, and forests that swept from the heights right down to the sea. It was two weeks’ ride to the Bôkthersan capital, but Alec looked forward to it—in part because it was his new homeland since he’d been accepted into the clan by bond, and partly for knowing that Seregil and his uncle had ridden these roads and mountain trails together years before.
    They’d seen no signs of habitation since they’d left Half Moon Cove, and their only road was a succession of twisting game trails. It was just the sort of place to meet up with bandits. Adzriel assured them that there was no cause for worry, but she had brought an escort of twenty men from the ship.
    Seregil’s exile song had truly captured the beauty of this land. There were sweet cold springs along the way, and tumbling cascades that glittered in the sunlight. The forest was a mix of tall evergreens, oaks, beeches, and trees Alec didn’t recognize. The few remaining leaves still clinging to branch tips—gold and yellow, and fiery orange and red—stood out against the dark firs and clear blue sky.
    Seregil was their guide. They slept rough in clearings, singing