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he just ran away. We might as well have killed him.”
    “Could you have done that, Alec í Amasa?”
    He thought about it, then shook his head. “No. He was too pathetic and—well …”
    “Let me tell you something that you’re probably too young to have learned yet. Love and hate aren’t so far apart.”
    Alec shook his head, remembering. “Seregil told me heused to love Ilar, and now he loves me, but that there was no one else in between, among all the people he bedded. And I could tell that Ilar wanted to make things up with him.”
    “And did Seregil let him?”
    “No.” Alec didn’t want to think about his own jealousy and doubts. He didn’t want to remember the sight of Ilar naked and trying to kiss Seregil by the stream that day, or the way Seregil had appeared unable or unwilling to stop him.
    Mydri smiled and patted his hand. “You can’t change his past, Alec. Neither can he. Let it go and turn your thoughts to the journey home. Now, please listen to your healer and stop throwing yourself around.”
    When she was gone he disregarded her admonition and went back to the window seat, bored and wondering where everyone else was. Sebrahn climbed into his lap. The rhekaro still had the doll, and he picked curiously at it as he rested his head against Alec’s chest.
    Alec rubbed his cheek against that cool, silken hair and stared out the window. It had finally stopped raining, but the sky remained dreary with low, dark clouds. The harbor beyond was nearly empty today; the fishermen were taking advantage of the break in the weather. Adzriel’s ship, a sleek caravel, rode at anchor like a dark swan.
    “Bôkthersa!” he murmured with a thrill of excitement that swept away all the dark thoughts. He’d forgotten to ask if Adzriel would keep him locked away there.
    That afternoon Seregil, his sisters, and Micum came to his room. Micum caught Alec’s eye and gave him a warning look. Seregil and the women looked like they’d been arguing. Seregil’s mouth was set in a stubborn line, and Mydri seemed furious.
    Adzriel closed the door behind them and locked it.
    Mydri was glaring at Sebrahn; it was as if their gentle conversation earlier had never happened. “Adzriel told me about the rhekaro’s true powers, Seregil.” She turned on Alec. “And you said nothing, either!”
    “I meant for them to tell you once we were under way,” Adzriel explained, interceding for them.
    Mydri was not mollified. “Adzriel, how can you possibly bring something so dangerous to our own fai’thast?”
    “Seregil is our brother, in blood if not in name. Since Alec is his
talímenios
, he’s our responsibility, and through him, Sebrahn.” She gave her sister a stern look. “Whatever Sebrahn is, he’s theirs, and thus ours. Isn’t that so?”
    “Well, yes, but—”
    “Then it’s settled. They’ll be safe there, and can take what time they need to discover more about Sebrahn.”
    Mydri stood up, angry now. “Adzriel, as your sister, and as a ranking member of the clan, I protest. I love these two as much as you do, but—”
    Adzriel gave her a look that cut her off midsentence. “I don’t speak now as your sister, or his, but as your khirnari. And I say that it is safer by far to have this rhekaro within our control than to lose him to those who would use him for ill in the world. I have spoken!”
    It was amazing to see Mydri cowed. Alec was a bit shaken himself, and Micum, too. No wonder Adzriel had been elected by her clan, in spite of her relative youth.
    “As you wish then, Khirnari,” Mydri said, throwing up her hands. “I only hope you don’t come to regret your decision.”
    So do I
, Alec thought, sending up a silent prayer to Illior.
    “So, what route are you planning?” asked Micum, deftly changing the subject.
    “We’ll put in at Chillian and ride from there,” said Adzriel.
    “We can cut the ride by half if we go north to Half Moon Cove and go by way of Smuggler’s Pass,” said Seregil.