was dead, then the blood was on her hands.
She looked closely at her palms and rubbed them together, not liking the thought. Still, if it proved true, then only blood could wash away blood.
She started down the corridor at a casual pace that hid her real purpose. There was no safe for her in the palace, nor in all of Mirashai. She could do Aki no good at all if she were imprisoned. Nor was Thogrin her real enemy, she suspected. If that old man was truly a wizard, the eyes watching her might not be detectable.
She went to the kitchens and sampled the morning's fare with an approving nod. In the quarters of the palace guard, she inspected weapons and chastised an improperly clad sentry, all with barely concealed haste. In the courtyard, she sniffed the flowers. Two guards stood watch at a gate in the wall. She knew them and stopped to chat. Apparently, word of her confinement had not yet spread. They made no attempt to stop her when she wished them a good day and passed out into the street.
Beyond the wall, she dropped her pretense and headed at a brisk walk to where Tras Sur'tian was waiting. With each step she thanked her Esgarian gods that no guard accosted her. Her sharp ears were alert for a cry of âHalt!â or the marching bootsteps of an armored patrol.
The streets were full of people, merchants spreading their wares for the day's trade, beggars and urchins, the rare noble out for a morning's stroll. She pushed her way through them, making no apologies, speaking to no one.
She spied the eastern gate and looked around for sentries, saw none.
Just beyond it, an old man waited clad in the dirtiest of rags. A patch covered one eye. The disguise was good, but she knew Tras Sur'tian at once by the size and shape of his body and by the beautiful black beast that stood at his side.
The creature's name was Ashur, and Frost smiled when she saw him. His mane was thick and lustrous. His proud tail brushed the earth. But to Frost, his most beautiful features were the two eyes which were not eyes at all, but pools of unnatural flame that burned hotter according to the animal's temper, and the glistening horn, long as a man's arm, that sprouted from his forelock.
Ashur was a gift from the same wizard who had given her Demonfang. There was no other such creature on all the earth. To normal eyes Ashur appeared just a horse, although a big and unusually strong horse. Though his speed was no greater, no earthly steed could match his endurance.
But for the rare few who possessed the true-sight, the power to see through mere appearance, or for a man on the very brink of death, the illusion dissolved.
Wilder than the winds was Ashur. None but Frost could ride him.
Tras Sur'tian moved like a crippled old man. He stepped forward, waving a dirty bowl. She dropped a coin into it and moved past him to hug Ashur.
âYour sword and a few provisions,â he whispered, âthere by the wall. You're late. Trouble?"
She threw back a dusty blanket that covered her sword. She strapped the blade on her right hip. âI think so,â she answered.
Tras Sur'tian frowned.
âThere's an old man with Thogrin. Do you know him?"
âNo, I saw him this morning for the first time."
She was grim as she fastened a cloak about her. âYou may see more of him than you like. I tell you, he's the true power behind Thogrin Sin'tell. Together they're responsible for Aki's disappearance."
âHave you proof?â he whispered.
âI feel it in my heart of hearts,â she answered.
âNot proof."
She shot him a look as he echoed Thogrin Sin'tell's words. Then she looked away and spat in the dust.
A group of merchants approached the gate headed for the city's bazaar. Mindful of his disguise, Tras Sur'tian slumped against the wall, squatted on his haunches, and extended his bowl. No coins came his way.
âMay you sleep with diseased women!â he called after them as they passed. Then, to Frost, âIf you
She looked closely at her palms and rubbed them together, not liking the thought. Still, if it proved true, then only blood could wash away blood.
She started down the corridor at a casual pace that hid her real purpose. There was no safe for her in the palace, nor in all of Mirashai. She could do Aki no good at all if she were imprisoned. Nor was Thogrin her real enemy, she suspected. If that old man was truly a wizard, the eyes watching her might not be detectable.
She went to the kitchens and sampled the morning's fare with an approving nod. In the quarters of the palace guard, she inspected weapons and chastised an improperly clad sentry, all with barely concealed haste. In the courtyard, she sniffed the flowers. Two guards stood watch at a gate in the wall. She knew them and stopped to chat. Apparently, word of her confinement had not yet spread. They made no attempt to stop her when she wished them a good day and passed out into the street.
Beyond the wall, she dropped her pretense and headed at a brisk walk to where Tras Sur'tian was waiting. With each step she thanked her Esgarian gods that no guard accosted her. Her sharp ears were alert for a cry of âHalt!â or the marching bootsteps of an armored patrol.
The streets were full of people, merchants spreading their wares for the day's trade, beggars and urchins, the rare noble out for a morning's stroll. She pushed her way through them, making no apologies, speaking to no one.
She spied the eastern gate and looked around for sentries, saw none.
Just beyond it, an old man waited clad in the dirtiest of rags. A patch covered one eye. The disguise was good, but she knew Tras Sur'tian at once by the size and shape of his body and by the beautiful black beast that stood at his side.
The creature's name was Ashur, and Frost smiled when she saw him. His mane was thick and lustrous. His proud tail brushed the earth. But to Frost, his most beautiful features were the two eyes which were not eyes at all, but pools of unnatural flame that burned hotter according to the animal's temper, and the glistening horn, long as a man's arm, that sprouted from his forelock.
Ashur was a gift from the same wizard who had given her Demonfang. There was no other such creature on all the earth. To normal eyes Ashur appeared just a horse, although a big and unusually strong horse. Though his speed was no greater, no earthly steed could match his endurance.
But for the rare few who possessed the true-sight, the power to see through mere appearance, or for a man on the very brink of death, the illusion dissolved.
Wilder than the winds was Ashur. None but Frost could ride him.
Tras Sur'tian moved like a crippled old man. He stepped forward, waving a dirty bowl. She dropped a coin into it and moved past him to hug Ashur.
âYour sword and a few provisions,â he whispered, âthere by the wall. You're late. Trouble?"
She threw back a dusty blanket that covered her sword. She strapped the blade on her right hip. âI think so,â she answered.
Tras Sur'tian frowned.
âThere's an old man with Thogrin. Do you know him?"
âNo, I saw him this morning for the first time."
She was grim as she fastened a cloak about her. âYou may see more of him than you like. I tell you, he's the true power behind Thogrin Sin'tell. Together they're responsible for Aki's disappearance."
âHave you proof?â he whispered.
âI feel it in my heart of hearts,â she answered.
âNot proof."
She shot him a look as he echoed Thogrin Sin'tell's words. Then she looked away and spat in the dust.
A group of merchants approached the gate headed for the city's bazaar. Mindful of his disguise, Tras Sur'tian slumped against the wall, squatted on his haunches, and extended his bowl. No coins came his way.
âMay you sleep with diseased women!â he called after them as they passed. Then, to Frost, âIf you
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