White Road

too busy wondering how many people had been hung in cages and bled to make the white creatures before the prophet Hâzadriël had her mysterious vision.
    “Thero’s right,” said Seregil. “I’ve been up aroundRavensfell Pass. It’s the ass end of nowhere, and about as far from Plenimar as you can get. This must be why they’ve been so insular.”
    “They killed my mother for bearing a ya’shel child, and tried to kill my father and me, too,” Alec told Magyana. “He spent the rest of his life on the move. I didn’t know why at the time, but it must have been to keep them from finding us again.”
    “He never spoke of any of that to you?”
    “No. He wasn’t much of a talker, my dad. And if I asked about my mother, he’d just say it was better for me not to know. As I got older, I wondered if she’d broken his heart, maybe by running off with another man.” He shook his head. “After the vision the Dragon Oracle showed me at Sarikali, I’m ashamed to have thought of her that way.”
    “You had no way to know, dear boy.” Magyana patted his hand. “Your father was a wise man. He must have loved your mother a great deal to risk so much for her. And for you, as well. As for the Hâzad, consider the consequences of a person of their blood finding his way south again.”
    “A dragon oracle, and a dragon child …,” murmured Seregil, wandering over to the window.
    Alec suddenly gave a great yawn. Magyana laughed and held out a hand to Micum and Thero. “There’s nothing to be gained by dwelling on such things now. Come along, you two, and let Alec rest. Thero, you must compose your response to the prince and send word to the captain of the
Lark
that we mean to sail tomorrow.”
    Seregil turned and headed for the door with them. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
    “Where are you going?” asked Alec.
    “To talk to my sister.”
    Before Alec could get more of an answer than that, Seregil was gone again.
    It was still raining, so Seregil brought Adzriel up to one of the rooftop
colos
. Its domed roof kept them dry, but the tall window openings hadn’t been shuttered and the wind off the sea was raw. Sitting down on one of the stonebenches, Adzriel pulled her cloak about her and looked up expectantly.
    “I have a favor to ask of you,” he told her.
    “Are you speaking to me as your sister or a khirnari?”
    Seregil smiled slightly. “Both?”
    She patted the seat beside her and took his hand. The familiarity of it make him feel like a child again, just for a moment. “Go on, then.”
    “I believe that Sebrahn is the child the Dragon Oracle at Sarikali told Alec about.”
    “That would make sense.”
    “Did Magyana tell you what she sees when she looks at Sebrahn?”
    “No,” said Adzriel, “but I assume you mean the strange aura about him. I thought you must know, but since you didn’t speak of it …”
    “Ah. So you see the dragon, too?”
    “A dragon? No, it shifts and glimmers. Can Alec see it?”
    “No, and neither can I. Magyana and Thero just told us.” He paused, looking down at their joined hands. “I’d like to take Sebrahn to Sarikali, since it was the oracle there who foretold it. Perhaps the
rhui’auros
will know what he is.” The temple mystics—the only permanent residents of sacred Sarikali—were renowned for their knowledge and visions, and the Dragon Oracle was theirs—or they were its. No one knew for sure.
    “You know I don’t have the authority to give permission for you to take something as strange as Sebrahn onto sacred ground, little brother, even if I went with you. That would require a vote by the entire Iia’sidra Council, and that could take a year or more.”
    “We can’t wait that long.” He thought a moment, trying to come up with some other option. “Is Tyrus still around?”
    “As far as I know, he’s still up in the hills.”
    “Then, speaking to my khirnari, may I bring Sebrahn to Bôkthersa?”
    Adzriel considered this for a long moment. “I don’t suppose Riagil will let you stay here much longer. It’s clear that Sebrahn scares him.”
    “He’s a smart man.”
    “Then Sebrahn does have some darker power?”
    Seregil looked up into grey eyes identical to his own. “Sebrahn can kill. With a song. He heals with his blood, and he can kill with his voice.”
    She didn’t appear surprised. “Who has he killed?”
    “The men who caught us in Plenimar—Yhakobin’s slave takers.”
    “He killed them because they