 
Gifted Avenger

An Ilvenworld Novella

by

Nicholas A. Rose

Copyright 2013 Nicholas A. Rose

Smashwords Edition

Cover: Joleene Naylor

Editor: Stephanie Dagg

Other novellas:

Gifted Apprentice

Gifted Hunter

The Markan Empire Trilogy:

Markan Throne

Markan Empire

Markan Sword

***

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Normality

Chapter 2 - Sword Practice

Chapter 3 - Quarterstaffs

Chapter 4 - Anguish

Chapter 5 - New Room

Chapter 6 - The Interview

Chapter 7 - Leaving Marka

Chapter 8 - Riding South

Chapter 9 - The Hooded Falcon

Chapter 10 - Gaining Ground

Chapter 11 - The Wild Sylph

Chapter 12 - Passing Through

Chapter 13 - Captured

Chapter 14 - Unexpected Surprise

Chapter 15 - Selim

Chapter 16 - Darkwood Forest

Chapter 17 - Blackwood Halt

Chapter 18 - Closing In

Chapter 19 - Waiting

Chapter 20 - Vengeance

Chapter 21 - New Beginning

***

He watched the watcher. Oh, the man would be unaware of his employer's close observation, and have even less idea why he merited such attention.

At least the watcher managed to keep his wits about him, and remained discreet. If the boy became aware of his presence... The boy. Such peculiar talents had manifested themselves in him, talents he expected more from a sorcerer than one of the Gifted.

Siranva would have reasons for granting such talents at this precise time. Ignorance of those reasons grated, and this was the reason for employing the men who now planned out their attack in detail.

The boy refused to use some of the talents granted to him. He had a weakness: he seemed unable, or perhaps reluctant, to kill. Fighting and weapons skill yes; but that killer instinct, the desire to survive above all else, was missing.

Or more likely suppressed.

The watcher had his own plan. The boy would be tested and, with luck, turned.

But the watcher's employer knew first attempts at turning almost always failed. The watcher's plan appeared good. Extreme emotion always destabilized people, and this boy would be no exception. And, once he became emotionally vulnerable, he became weak.

The boy would be turned. If not this time, then the next, or the one after.

The watcher's employer waited. He had time, all of time.

***

**Chapter 1 - Normality**

Sallis ti Ath set down his spoon, leaned back and patted his stomach in contentment. Ulena and her husband, the rather solidly built Oban, watched silently, while their daughter Pelim emulated Sallis. Their son Kerran, a slow eater, worked through his porridge and pretended nothing else happened at the table.

"Excellent porridge as always," announced Sallis.

Surrounded by four people with dark blue eyes, he felt the outsider with his brown ones. Not many native Markans had brown eyes, though plenty of outlanders living in the city did.

Pelim, the maker of the porridge, blushed.

One other in the room didn't have dark blue eyes and she now stepped forward. Since another of Ulena's daughters had married, Westin's work had brought her indoors from the stables. Not even human, Westin belonged to the sylph race, blue-skinned and blue-blooded servants used almost everywhere on the mainland for menial work. Ulena owned two infertile sylphs; Westin's litter-sister still worked in the stables.

Long silver hair tied back and silver-gray eyes sparkling, the sylph offered the alovak can around the table. Only Oban accepted and Westin's long earpoints twitched in concentration as she poured the dark liquid. Done, she stepped back to hide in the shadows again.

"A ride this morning, is it?" asked Oban, settling back in his chair. Though fond of Sallis, he regarded him expressionlessly. "With Pelim."

"A ride into the forest," said Sallis, "followed by sword-practice with the City Guard."

"And don't forget to collect those blankets on your way back," urged Ulena. "They're too heavy for the sylphs to manage."

"Consider it done." Sallis grinned and turned to Pelim. "Ready?"

"I should give a hand with the washing up," protested Pelim, gathering the used crockery.

"I will do it," announced Westin, snatching the used bowls from Pelim's hands. "You can be away earlier now."

Pelim smiled her thanks at the sylph. Sallis had never worked out if the two sylphs encouraged Pelim or himself the most. Either way, they loved the growing romance and bent over backwards to help him enjoy more time with the only daughter still at home.

"Let's see if Errim's got Glyder ready yet," said Sallis.

"She's been out there long enough," grunted Kerran, who ran the stable with Westin's litter-sister.

"The City Guard won't have forgotten to prepare a horse for me?"

"Of course not." Sallis smiled at Pelim. "They're always looking for people they can trust to exercise their horses."

"They hardly know me," protested Pelim.

"Well, they think it's me doing the borrowing," admitted Sallis. "But you'll be with me, so I'm sure they'll understand."

"And if they don't?"

"Then you can ride Glyder and I'll walk," replied Sallis.

Pelim and Sallis crossed the yard to the stable together, enjoying the warm spring sunshine. The cruel late winter wind had only recently dropped away to nothing, and they had about four weeks before summer's heat began to build.

Coming from an offshore island with a maritime climate, Sallis had still not fully adapted to continental weather, which made today ideal in his opinion.

Glyder gave Sallis a welcoming whinny and a near-identical copy of Westin looked up from where she finished tightening a girth strap. Errim's earpoints twitched forwards in pleasure. She wore shirt and breeches, and smudges of dust darkened her blue skin.

"Everything is ready," she announced.

"Good girl."

The sylph arched her back and giggled as Sallis tickled her earpoints.

"Stop it!" whispered Pelim. "You know Mother doesn't like you doing that."

Errim blinked and gave Pelim a level look before her attention returned to Sallis.

"It does her no harm," replied Sallis, trying and failing to twine an earpoint around his forefinger. "She's not a breeder."

He had always felt a little closer to Errim. Some sylphs could sense Sallis's talents; Westin sometimes scuttled away from him for no apparent reason, wide-eyed and her earpoints bolt upright in shock. Moments later, she always returned to her normal friendly self, but she startled Sallis every time she leapt away. Errim never behaved like that, for which he was grateful.

He turned away from the sylph and quickly checked Glyder's tack, satisfied that the work had been done properly. Few sylphs enjoyed working around large animals, and even Errim only trusted two horses: Glyder of course, and Rence, the large carthorse the family rented out. He was currently away, working in the forest hauling timber. Sometimes, like now, the carthorse earned more money than the rest of the family.

Sallis patted Glyder and led him out from the stable.

"We'll walk to the Gate," said Sallis. "I wonder which horse they'll give you today."

Despite the relatively early hour, the streets already heaved with activity. People dashed from their homes to workplaces, many disappearing into the industrial quarter, with its stinks and manufactories. Most Markans - human _and_ sylph - spent long working hours in that part of the city.

Others were sylphs on errands, darting this way and that through crowds of people with other destinations in mind. The blue-skinned sylphs were adept at twisting their way through crowds. People were generally tolerant of their presence and sylphs seemed to have some sort of taboo against touching strangers.

And beggars. Every city had a few, but Marka attracted people from all over the known world, and not everybody made a success of their new life. Every corner and disused doorway displayed evidence of shattered dreams and crushed hopes.

Sallis's heart always twisted whenever he saw a grimy blue hand pushed out from a ragged bundle, or earpoints sagged in defeat. Humans could make their own choices - even the worst failure could always return home - but sylphs had fewer choices than most.

The city's rulers really ought to do more for them.

After a stroll along Marka's central tree-lined boulevard, they reached the north gate, where the day watch had just relieved the night watch. Sallis passed Glyder's reins to Pelim.

The City Guards greeted him - all the guardsmen knew Sallis, as he had given them three years of reliable service as a bounty-hunter - and one led him to the stable beside the guardhouse.

"Which one?" asked Sallis.

"Sabre," replied the guard, a man named Cullist who neared retirement. He snapped his fingers at one of the stable-boys, who leapt to Sabre's stall.

Sabre turned out to be a dappled gelding, ready for his morning ride. Sallis made friends with him as quickly as he could before leading him out from the stable.

The north gate already stood open, but it was nowhere near as busy as its southern twin, so Sallis and Pelim were able to mount up in the courtyard.

"You all right with him?" Cullist asked Pelim, as she scrambled into his saddle. Cullist kept a hand on Sabre's bridle.

Pelim patted Sabre's neck. "Looks like it," she smiled.

Cullist released the bridle and stepped back.

"Enjoy your ride," he said.

Sallis ti Ath touched Glyder's flanks with his heels, then gently increased the pressure. The horse knew the command and broke into a gallop, brown mane and tail streaming, his blazed nose pushed forward to help with breathing.

Brown eyes alight with delight, Sallis looked over his shoulder and laughed as he watched Pelim on the borrowed Sabre fall behind until she too touched her heels to Sabre's flanks. Moments later, she rode alongside him.

Sabre had been bred and selected for speed, but Sallis knew Glyder would win any race over distance. He was not the fastest, but only the largest carthorses and warhorses could surpass Glyder's endurance.

But for the moment, Sabre held the advantage.

Sallis kept up his speed, following Pelim as she plunged into the forest surrounding Marka, turning off the road where Sallis had marked one of the trees. The faint path, safe for horses to gallop along, eventually led to their favorite spot, a glade deep in the forest with its own babbling brook, where they could be blessedly alone.

Sallis and Pelim kept their relationship quiet and unhurried. A couple of years older than Sallis - well, three to be exact - she and he had always been friendly. Not _that_ friendly, at least in the early days, but friendships can develop and this one had.

Sallis had thought about proposing more than once. After all, he was eighteen now, and old enough to make all of his own decisions, and yet not _quite_ courageous enough to ask the question.

He had faced down murderers and thieves, brought a good few criminals to justice, fought against guardsmen and stood his corner when it came to work. But faced with this young lady, all his bravery deserted him.

The worst that could happen was her saying no.

Her sparkling dark blue eyes looked into his own and it was as if she had read his mind.

"I'm not sure mother would approve of me marrying a bounty-hunter," she said. "After all, few could keep me as well as my own family."

And _that_ was yet another of Sallis's worries. Not being a bounty-hunter, but the nature of his work. It demanded his full attention at times, and also his absence.

Oh, he felt certain Pelim could look after herself and any family perfectly adequately without him. But bounty-hunters made enemies, and enemies rarely rested. He'd already lost a couple of rivals (who, he had to admit, had also been friends) to revenge attacks.

Except there would be no family. He really should tell Pelim, or at least remind her.

And yet, and yet.

Sallis smiled. "I'm not most bounty-hunters," he replied. "I'm heir to a large farm on Re Annan..."

"Sheep," interrupted Pelim and waved a languid hand, though she grinned as she spoke.

"...And those sylphs I sent home are bound to be breeding by now. Not to mention a good chunk of reward money in the depository."

"Your gold is no good to me _there_ ," she said, sliding off Sabre's back and loosening straps so the animal would feel more comfortable. "How can I spend it for you when it's hidden away?"

Sallis laughed. If anything, Pelim took even greater care of her own money. He should ask and be done with it. He swung out of the saddle, taking care to avoid the sword and quarterstaff strapped to one side. He would be practicing with the City Guard later, always a good way to pass a couple of hours when between commissions.

Though in his opinion, _this_ must be the best way of all to kill time.

They stared into the stream's tumbling waters for a few minutes, hoping to catch a flash of silver where a trout suddenly turned, but the pools were deserted today. One problem with this rivulet was that its pools were too small for bathing. Even if drinking the water instantly refreshed the drinker.

"Father is home," said Pelim, as if Sallis had not noticed Oban's hulking presence at the breakfast table. For a man in his middle sixties, Oban remained surprisingly fit.

"A hint?" Sallis smiled. "And I thought I must ask your mother."

Those blue eyes sparkled with inner laughter again. "She might say no, but Father cannot wait to see me go."

Sallis pursed his lips. "Somehow I doubt that," he replied. Oban's loyalty to his family was as impressive as his size. "It is not your mother's rejection I fear."

Pelim giggled.

The apparent childishness of this did not fool Sallis. Pelim's eyes also held a certain gleam he recognized all too well. He must step carefully. "At least we can enjoy some peace and quiet here," he said.

He lifted the spare saddle blanket down and spread it on the ground beside the stream.

He and Pelim sat side by side, leaving Glyder and Sabre to munch contentedly on the grass.

"A shame we can't stay here all day," murmured Pelim.

"We might yet," said Sallis, with a grin. As he lay back on the blanket, he glanced at the weapons strapped to Glyder. Practice with the City Guard later. Oh, and he must remember to leave Glyder in the City Guard's stable, as he had promised Ulena he would collect some repaired blankets on his way back. "Then again, perhaps not."

"Did you mean what you said about being too shy to ask?" pressed Pelim.

"Of course. You've got no idea how shy I am."

Pelim laughed.

"What's so funny?" demanded Sallis, sitting up. "You think I'm not shy?"

"I can't imagine you doing the things you do and being shy." Pelim shook her head. "Perhaps little me intimidates you."

"That's part of it too." Sallis grinned and lay back again.

"Anything else?"

"You must remember that I'm Gifted."

"I wish I could forget."

"If you want children, you must marry another," said Sallis. "Even the Gift comes at a cost."

Pelim paused. "I cannot understand why the Gifted can't have children," she said, eventually. "It seems so cruel of Siranva. Why ever not?"

Sallis winced at the casual use of the Father's name. Continentals seemed much less reticent to use it, except for sylphs, who believed it blasphemous.

"Elvallon never told me why not," he replied, "only that it was so. But I don't think any of the Gifted know why, except for a few like Sandev."

"Why not ask her?"

Sallis blinked. "Some questions should never be asked," he replied. "We might not like the answer."

Pelim sniffed and looked away. "There are always orphans and foundlings to adopt," she said, after another moment's pause. "Raise them as our own and they can even inherit."

"On the mainland," agreed Sallis. "Not so sure about Re Annan, though."

"Let one of your sisters inherit the sheep farm. You stay here."

"And ask to marry you?"

"Don't leave it too long, else another may win my hand."

"Hmm. Maybe I should ask you today."

"You have my full attention right now."

Sallis rolled onto his side and looked directly into Pelim's sparkling eyes.

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

"Very blunt," she replied, before looking away. "And you didn't plead. Or make rash promises you probably could never keep anyway."

Sallis smiled and waited.

"Well?" he asked, as the silence grew between them.

Pelim sniffed. "A girl needs time to make a decision on this subject," she said.

"You pretty much forced me to ask!"

Another laugh. "I had to make sure you would," she replied. "Let me see now. I suppose I could fit you into my busy life at that."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

Pelim turned her attention back to his face and they shifted closer.

The two horses feasted on the lush grass, while Sallis and his betrothed shared a lingering kiss.

***

The watcher stared at the building. An unassuming place, with only the one lodger. Stables around the back, for the moment empty of horses as the family carthorse had been loaned out. The son and a sylph would be in the stable. The man and woman somewhere in the house, and the man at least looked like he could take care of himself. And another sylph working at chores.

No other visitors.

He expected the girl to return soon, and he already knew she would be alone. The boy would linger, playing with weapons he did not need, and where only the exercise would be of any benefit. By the time the boy had done playing his games with the City Guard, he would be finished here.

The fool should have changed his lodgings. A wise bounty-hunter always regularly changed his accommodation. This one was an even bigger fool because he acted as if these people were his family.

A bad, bad mistake.

The watcher shifted in anticipation.

***

**Chapter 2 - Sword Practice**

After promising not to forget about the repaired blankets, Sallis sent Pelim home on their return to Marka. One of the stable-boys helped Sallis lead Glyder and Sabre around to the stables.

Once inside the warm gloom, with horses poking long noses over stall doors in the vain hope of attention, Sallis checked both mounts. He ensured no small stones had caught in their hooves, and evicted any parasites hoping to make new homes for themselves. He stripped both animals of their tack and began to brush them down, working quickly and methodically.

The same stable-boy danced around him, distressed that Sallis had usurped his work.

"You can clean and polish that little lot if you feel left out." Sallis pointed to the tack, before returning to currying Sabre. Once done, he gave Glyder his full attention. When he straightened again, he looked directly into the dark blue eyes of a guardsman, who leaned nonchalantly on one of the massive wooden roof supports.

"Hello Crallin," said Sallis.

Crallin pursed his lips for a moment and looked Sallis up and down. "A new stable-boy? Aren't you a little old?"

"Found any decent rivals today?" countered Sallis. "As I doubt you'll be fighting me."

"I'm on duty." Crallin even managed a small smile as he gestured towards his uniform and polished boots.

Sallis didn't believe he and the guardsman would ever be called friends. At best they were polite to each other. Crallin had always mistrusted bounty-hunters - in most cases with justification, to be fair - but he had never forgotten nor forgiven Sallis besting him more than once.

"That's a shame," retorted the bounty-hunter. "I know how much you enjoy our sparring sessions."

Crallin gave the merest of shrugs. "I'm sure Oston will oblige you," he said.

"Good."

Unlike Crallin, Oston had at least modified his view of Sallis, helped by his successes. The hunt of a thief also accused of murder, followed by more victories in what was, essentially, a game of chase, had brought first respect, then perhaps friendship from the squat, powerfully-built guardsman.

Even better, Oston could fight well. If not for Sallis's unwanted gift, Oston would be the better swordsman.

Not any gift, but _the_ Gift. A blessing, and a curse.

"He has a new friend with him," added Crallin. "You're not the only Gifted in Marka."

Sallis smiled. "Another fighting Gifted? Sort of rubs against the principles of the Gift, I'd say."

"Like you do?" retorted Crallin. "Sorry, I forget the reason you refuse to abide by Gifted principles is because they rejected you."

Sallis's smile became more fixed as Crallin scored a hit. "Surprised you aren't studying for your next promotion. Oh, it seems you're not the only forgetful one."

Recently passed over for promotion to sergeant for being "too young and inexperienced", Crallin's face darkened and he turned on his heel to leave. Sallis barked a laugh and patted Glyder's nose.

"Let's get you fed," he told the horse. "I'll take out all my frustrations on Oston and his friends."

***

Sallis walked slowly towards the gates, carrying just his sword and quarterstaff. Oston and two guardsmen, all dressed in casual clothes rather than uniform, waited beside the gates, together with a third man Sallis had never seen before. Oston's dark eyes showed that he, in common with Sallis, had outlander origins. He grinned as Sallis joined them.

The younger man nodded politely to the guardsmen - Sheyne with his mop of blond hair and the totally bald Jerret - and managed a small smile for the stranger. The new man watched impassively as Oston gestured towards him.

"This is Gamal," said Oston, by way of introduction.

Gamal inclined his head, but his hazel eyes held a thoughtful look. "You must be Sallis ti Ath," he said, voice quiet. "I've longed to meet you."

Sallis noted the man's calm stillness, yet an air of wariness, of _awareness_ , clung to him. In common with the others, he carried a sword; only Oston also carried a staff.

"Well," said Sallis, "I've got other things to be doing today, so shall we go?"

The three guardsmen gave him level looks, but Gamal grunted a laugh. Sallis watched this man closely. Crallin claimed that Gamal was Gifted, but Sallis sensed nothing from him. He remembered Elvallon's warning that some could hide their talent, if not always for the best of reasons.

The Gift. Elvallon.

Sallis would rather forget about both. He could do things with the Gift that ought to be impossible. His advantage in fighting wasn't just thanks to hours of practice, but because of something that only manifested itself while learning to use the Gift.

And thanks to his talents being... different... Elvallon had eventually refused to train him further. Sallis and the Gift terrified all others who were Gifted. So Sallis had decided to put those talents to use for the benefit of all in his own way.

Being able to track people was a common skill. Everybody left something behind, some hint of passing through. Except Sallis could do it using the Gift. By opening himself to the Gift, and touching something belonging to that person, he could "see" where they had been. As the skill developed, he could even tell where they had been most recently. The skill would stir by itself if someone else handed that something to him.

Once triggered, he could follow until he touched his prey. Or the individual died. Not even he could follow the dead. Even so, this skill had proved useful both to Marka's City Guard and Sallis's own gold deposits.

But that was not the reason why Elvallon had refused to continue his training.

Sallis and his companions reached the training ground. All five of them stretched, arching their backs and lifting legs from the ground. Sallis drew his sword of good Re Taura steel and began to warm his wrist muscles through.

He saw Gamal smiling at him. Sallis would be careful around this man until he had a measure of him. A sensible precaution.

Remembering the first time he had been put through his paces here, Sallis glanced up at the walls. Sure enough, a couple of guards lounged against the crenels, hoping for some entertainment.

"Swordplay first," suggested Oston, "then me and Sallis can practice with our staffs."

"You don't need staffs," said Gamal. "Not with swords."

Oston gave a quick laugh. "There are times when you don't want other folk to see a sword," he replied. He and Sallis exchanged a look. They both knew the truth.

Sheyne and Jerret were still stripping off their shirts as Gamal came for Sallis. The younger man, who had never believed in stripping off before a fight since criminals never gave such opportunities to their opponents, turned to meet the other man's blade.

Steel clashed against steel and Sallis stepped back. He met the other man's probes and fought defensively.

"Not bad for a youngster," said Gamal, "but further east there are boys younger than you rotting in the earth because they couldn't handle themselves."

Sallis sidestepped another thrust. "The war between the Vintners doesn't affect us here."

"You think?" Gamal bared his teeth in a half smile. "What d'you reckon they're fighting over, then? When one beats the other, their attention will turn to Marka."

Oston, resting on his own sword, gave a mirthless smile. "Strange how the only honorable branches of the Vintner family spend more time fighting each other than the other claimants."

"Comes of 'em being neighbors," remarked Gamal, before making a lightning lunge at Sallis.

Seeing the older man stretch, Sallis twisted his own sword and watched as Gamal's spun from his hand.

"How'd you manage that?" Gamal looked genuinely surprised.

Sallis grinned. "Practice," he replied.

Gamal failed to hide his snarl as he bent for his sword, one eye on Sallis, wary of any tricks. He straightened...

... and Sallis launched straight into an attack, sword probing this way then that, flicking forward and retreating again almost immediately. Gamal moved with commendable speed, fending off every attack and sometimes replying with one of his own.

Oston and the other two guardsmen stopped to watch as first Sallis, then Gamal, moved forward and drove the other back. Even the watchers on the walls looked impressed. The swordsmen turned on the grass and their blades clashed. Gamal moved faster and faster, pressing Sallis hard.

The Gift beckoned.

To Sallis, it seemed as though the world continued in slow motion, though he knew that he moved faster through time itself. Blade met blade, and Sallis pushed, stepping forward to crack his hilt against the other man's wrist.

Normality returned.

Gamal's hazel eyes were still widening in shock as he staggered back. "It's true," he gasped. "You really _can_ manipulate it!"

Sallis nodded.

The ability to move through time had been the first talent to manifest itself in Sallis. It had terrified his tutor, probably because the man failed to understand why his pupil might need such a skill.

But that was not the reason why Elvallon refused to teach him.

"An unfair advantage," mused Gamal.

"Hardly," retorted Sallis. "We must all learn to use whatever talents we have. A farmer without a weapon can complain about men with swords. The answer is to use his own skills. In common with all the others who are Gifted, I never asked."

"True." Gamal stepped back, keeping out of the way where Oston and the two guardsmen were warming up. "I heard the tales, and had to see for myself." He raised his sword to Sallis in salute.

Sallis nodded before stepping aside. He leant on his sword to watch the three guardsmen practice against each other. Gamal stood beside him. The older man tapped his wrist.

"I'll have a fine bruise there," he remarked.

Sallis smiled. "We sometimes play rough out here. If it troubles you, see a healer."

"The Gifted are supposed to be healers," murmured Gamal.

"Some are," agreed Sallis, turning his head to look at the other man. "But we all have different talents."

"You cannot heal."

Sallis narrowed his eyes. "No."

He turned his head away.

"Somebody told me you had that talent," remarked Gamal.

"Then you were told wrong."

How did this man know? How could he know? Elvallon had believed the ability to heal also burned in Sallis. Except that when Sallis wove the Gift to heal, his touch brought only death.

His training had been ended that very day.

Unseen by Sallis, Oston defeated both his fellow guards and turned with a triumphant grin.

Sallis was Gifted, but his gift brought death. Other Gifted shunned him for that very reason. So why did this man seek him out?

"What are your talents?" he asked.

Gamal stared and recovered his smiling composure quickly. "Who says I'm Gifted?"

"Crallin told me."

Gamal shrugged. "I said I had gifts, that's a different thing."

"If you want that bruise sorting, you must ask another of the Gifted," replied Sallis. "Though I think I can remember how to make up a poultice, if you prefer."

Gamal's smile returned. "I'll see one of your fellow Gifted."

Sallis nodded.

"All right." Oston sheathed his sword. "Ready for the quarterstaff, Sallis? Let's show these boys what we can do."

Sallis sheathed his own sword and stooped for his quarterstaff. "Ready when you are," he said.

***

The watcher was almost ready to make his move. He knew everything he needed to know about escape routes and who worked where in the house. He must move quickly and silently. Everything must appear completely normal until the last second, when it would be too late.

He stepped up to the door and rapped on it sharply with his knuckles. As the door opened, he smiled warmly at the woman with dark blue eyes standing within.

"I understand you have rooms for hire," he said.

Moments later, he stood on the inside. Time to begin work.

***

**Chapter 3 - Quarterstaffs**

Gamal and the two guardsmen watched as Oston and Sallis readied their staffs. The watchers on the wall remained in place, still waiting, or perhaps hoping, to see someone get seriously hurt. Bored guardsmen must find their entertainment from every possible source.

Sheyne and Jerret had sheathed their swords, while Gamal leaned on his, massaging his bruised wrist.

"Sticks of wood aren't much use," called Gamal. "I know farmers like them and they even get lucky against swordsmen, sometimes."

"Always," muttered Oston, remembering a lesson from Sallis years before.

Sallis grinned and brought his staff up to the ready.

"No tricks," warned Oston. "Remember, I'm a learner, so play fair."

"Everything's fair when it comes to fighting," chuckled Sallis.

A moment's pause, and the younger man launched into his first attack. Thrust, parry, turn. Oston blocked, his gaze flickering everywhere, trying to see from the set of Sallis's arms where he might attack next. Because Sallis had not stripped off his shirt, muscle tension that might have betrayed his intentions remained invisible.

Thrust, parry, turn. Sallis went for head, torso, elbows and knees, unafraid to tap directly down with one end of his quarterstaff, aiming for an unwary foot.

Oston danced, his movements somewhat less economical than his opponent's.

"C'mon," urged Sallis. "Attack me!"

Oston obliged and even managed to drive the younger man back for a second or two. "You're not even trying," he complained.

Sallis grinned. "Want me to?" And increased the tempo of his attacks.

Even Gamal watched thoughtfully, fingers of his good hand caressing his injured wrist. Oston yelled something rude before throwing his staff aside, clutching at a bruised elbow. Sallis came upright.

"Now you know why I keep my shirt on," said the younger man. "Watch where I'm looking as well as what I'm doing with the stick."

"I want to see how well you do against a swordsman," said Gamal, whose wrist seemed to have made a miraculous recovery under massaging fingers.

"He does well enough," grumped Oston.

Sheyne and Jerret both gave warning shakes of their heads as Gamal raised a questioning eyebrow in their direction.

"Rather you than me," said Sheyne, lifting his hands defensively.

"A silver standard on it?" asked Gamal, a fat silver coin flickering across his fingers. "And I'll be fighting with the wrong hand."

Sallis grunted a short laugh. "I've no wish to take your money," he said.

"That's a shame." Gamal's smile hardened slightly. "I mean to take yours. Well, a standard of it, anyway."

"Take the bet," urged Oston. "If Gamal wants to throw his money away, let him."

Gamal spread his hands. "Your friends seem convinced you cannot lose this bet. A silver standard, twenty little uncas."

"I don't carry that around with me," protested Sallis.

"Sounds like you don't need to," retorted Gamal. "I'm sure you're honest enough to pay up should you lose."

Oston flourished some coins. "I'll stand security for that bet," he announced, "for half your winnings, Sallis."

"All right." Sallis moved his quarterstaff in two lazy circles and stepped forward again.

"Good lad." Gamal pulled his sword free from the ground with his left hand and came to the ready.

Sallis fought off the first few attempts, turning the sword and managing to keep his opponent well away. Gamal's sword thudded uselessly against the wood a few times, then the man began to probe Sallis's defenses, increasing his tempo. His sword flickered here and there, met each time by Sallis's staff.

Gamal pushed forward, realized he was getting nowhere, then began to fall back. Sallis moved from defense to offense and began to look for ways to earn his silver. He wanted to end this fairly quickly; he had other errands to run yet.

As they turned, Sallis noticed that Gamal's left foot was unprotected. A weakness, or a trap? The man moved as if unaware of this weakness in his defense. When they turned the other way, the same place was left unprotected.

Sallis noticed Oston's suddenly intent gaze, which meant the stocky guardsman had also spotted the error.

They turned, and Sallis flicked down with his quarterstaff, but Gamal moved quicker. His left foot kicked the staff to a horizontal position in Sallis's hands, and the older man's sword sliced forcefully down, cutting the wood in half.

As Sallis stumbled forward, pain lanced up his arms from the vibration of cracking wood. Gamal's sword lay across his neck.

Oston and the other two guardsmen looked on in shock, but the watchers on the walls applauded, before turning away to resume their slow patrol.

"I believe we agreed one silver standard," said Gamal softly. "If you don't like gambling, consider it payment for the lesson."

***

The watcher looked around the stable. He'd completed the worst part. These people had done him no wrong personally, but the boy treated them as family, which had proved to be their misfortune. The boy would suffer on his return. Shock and grief would overwhelm him, leading in turn to irrational behavior.

And when the Gifted became irrational, they were always easier to turn. He wanted the boy to follow and try to exact revenge.

The watcher had worked out what to do.

He left the two in the stable where they had fallen.

He arranged the man and woman so they faced each other, mugs of cold alovak set before them. He carefully placed the sign between them, so anyone stood in the doorway would see it.

Where the stairs turned near the top, the indoor sylph leaned into the corner. He sat her cross-legged, because he had no time to wait for death's rigor to set in, when it would be easier to leave her in the more natural crouch used by her race.

He left the last body in the boy's room, arranged on the bed in a manner intended especially to enrage him. His attention turned to the board, painted black and washed clean for the moment.

The watcher carefully removed the piece of cloth from his pocket and used it to wipe his brow. Using one of the boy's own metal nails, he pinned the cloth to the exact center of the board, before picking up the powder crayon and writing four words under the small square of wool.

Time now to play the game.

***

**Chapter 4 - Anguish**

Once paid for winning his bet, Gamal sloped off the moment he realized collecting blankets involved more work, and Oston only agreed to help Sallis because he wanted repayment of his silver standard.

The draper helped Sallis and Oston load Ulena's handcart (left at the draper's when Sallis and Kerran had brought the blankets) with two bundles secured with rope.

"You should tell Ulena that sometimes it is cheaper to buy new blankets than repair old," said the draper, looking at Sallis down his long nose.

"Ulena hates waste," replied Sallis. "You ought to know that by now, Melcer."

Melcer nodded, though his slightly disapproving expression did not change. "Business is business," he agreed, though he may have been referring to the sale of new blankets, rather than the cost of repairing old ones.

Sallis quickly secured the two bundles in the handcart, lashing them down with rope in case anything broke free when a wheel bounced in any of the many holes found in the paving, even at the edge of the industrial quarter.

Sallis rarely liked coming here, with its random stinks and greasy feel to the cobbles under his feet. Ulena insisted on bringing her business to Melcer, because everything was cheaper in the industrial quarter, away from the more exclusive places elsewhere in Marka.

Buildings hemmed in the roads almost oppressively, and Sallis was always pleased to return to more genteel parts of the city, where the spring sunshine warmed them again.

They dodged people who crowded the streets, Oston helping to clear a path for the handcart. Habit made Sallis turn into the alley leading to the stables at the back of his lodgings. In fairness, it also made for a slightly shorter distance.

Sallis banged on the wooden door.

"Only me!" he called, straightening from the cart's handles.

Silence.

"Kerran, Errim? Quit playing games and open up!"

"Looks like you're no longer welcome," remarked Oston. "Or do they know you intended to lose that bet? I want my money."

"I intended to lose nothing," retorted Sallis, not wanting to be reminded of his recent defeat at Gamal's hands. "Open up!"

"Nobody's coming," said Oston.

Sallis glanced on the ground and finally snatched up a small piece of twig. "Hope this is strong enough," he muttered.

"Ho." Oston grinned. "Our principled bounty-hunter is turning thief."

"How can I be a thief?" demanded Sallis, poking the twig between two slats and feeling for the latch. "I live here."

"Quicker to go to the front door," continued Oston, who enjoyed every opportunity to poke a bit of fun at the younger man. "You-"

"Ah." Sallis leaned back and the door swung open. "In we go."

Sallis led the way into the yard, pushing the handcart ahead of him, and Oston pulled the door shut behind them, dropping the latch back into place.

"Thanks for nothing guys," Sallis called, as he passed the closed stable door. "Don't worry, I'll see myself in, I know the way."

He turned his head as he passed, stopped in his tracks, and let the handcart stay where it was.

"Oh no," he cried, reaching for his sword.

"What?" demanded Oston, before he too saw red blood smeared around the stable door handle. "Careful!"

Sallis ignored Oston's cautionary warning and pulled the door open, leaping inside with sword at the ready. He took everything in with a single glance. "No, no, no!"

Oston followed more cautiously, sword also drawn. His gaze flickered around the stable while Sallis fought for composure.

Kerran lay sprawled on his back amid spilled tack, eyes closed and looking peaceful, if the gash that split his mouth and opened his chest could be ignored. Behind him, the sylph Errim looked a lot less peaceful: her eyes were wide with shock and disbelief, though her earpoints had completely relaxed in death. A blue patch on her brown tunic suggested she had died quickly from a stab to the heart.

Sallis leaned forward and touched Errim's corpse gently. Cooling, almost cold. He gave Kerran's body a compassionate look, before another thought came.

"Inside!" he yelled, leaving the stables and sprinting to the house. "Pelim!"

"He might still be in there," warned Oston, referring to the killer.

"I bloody hope so," retorted Sallis, yanking the kitchen door open and leaping into the large family room where he had shared so many meals.

Oban and Ulena faced each other, mugs of cold alovak set before them. From smudges of red blood on the tiled floor, Sallis knew they had been deliberately sat at the table. Their clothes were torn and blood-soaked where they had been stabbed, but they had died elsewhere in the house.

"A sign," remarked Oston, unnecessarily.

A word had been scrawled on a square piece of wood with charcoal.

UPSTAIRS.

Sallis's face contorted with rage and grief. "Revenge attack," he growled.

"Who have they upset?" Oston wondered.

"They gave me somewhere to live," snapped Sallis. "This is aimed at me, not them." He lifted his head. "Pelim!"

"Wait!" Oston's caution was ignored again.

Sallis left the kitchen, stepping into the hallway and wincing as he saw the pool of blood there. Someone had opened the door to the killer. Another pool of blood in the parlor, on Oban's favorite chair. Sallis looked up the stairs and fresh grief twisted inside.

Westin, the sylph who had been so pleased to serve indoors instead of working in the stable, sat cross-legged near the top of the stairs where they turned. Her head and earpoints were slumped, and hope flared momentarily in Sallis's heart. That hope died the moment he touched the sylph. Sat in a puddle of blue blood, her life had clearly ended where she had been placed.

Also cooling, almost cold, and a hint of stiffness as he touched the corpse.

"Why did he take time to move them?" Sallis wondered aloud.

His heart pounded; he only had one more to account for.

Oban and Ulena's room: empty. Kerran's room: empty. The girls' room, though only Pelim's bed was slept in these days: empty. The two other letting rooms: empty.

Sallis pushed the door open to his own room. He took one look and dropped to his knees.

"No!"

Oston followed. "Ranva's breath!"

Pelim lay on Sallis's bed, dark blue eyes staring accusingly at the ceiling. Her hands lay at her sides, but her killer had left her in an indecent posture, with skirt pushed up and legs parted. Her jugular had been cut; her blood sprayed across one wall.

Sallis screamed in denial again.

Oston caught the bounty-hunter just in time.

"Don't break your own rules!" he hissed. "The killer didn't have time to do more than kill."

"He _touched_ her!"

"No he didn't," retorted Oston. "He's trying to enrage you, he's trying to cloud your judgment."

Sallis dragged his gaze away from Pelim. His eyes burned into Oston. "Go and fetch the City Guard. Now!"

"Don't touch anything," Oston warned him, before leaving.

Sallis waited until Oston had left and turned towards the board Kerran had painted black for him what seemed like so long ago. He blinked away tears, unheeding as they streamed down his cheeks. He hoped his companion had not noticed what was on the board which, thankfully, stood end on to the doorway. Had Oston's attention focused solely on Pelim?

Someone had pinned a small square of wool to the precise center of the board.

And four words were chalked below.

COME AND GET ME.

Opening himself to the Gift, Sallis leaned forward and snatched the square of wool off the board. Images formed almost immediately; he knew he could follow the killer's progress through the house and work out the order in which his second family had been murdered.

More importantly, he could now follow the killer to anywhere in the world, a niggling sense that would not leave him until the killer either died, or else Sallis touched him.

He eyed the words on the board again, slightly blurred as fresh tears welled. He reached for the other cloth he always kept beside the board, and erased the chalked message, so only a powder smudge remained.

His voice barely shook as he spoke.

"I'm coming," he promised. "I am coming."

***

**Chapter 5 - New Room**

Senator Olista kept Sallis waiting two days before seeing him. Sallis called on Melda, his rather austere secretary, twice a day in case of any cancellations, but she rebuffed him each time.

Oston, keeping an avuncular eye on the emotionally-wrought Sallis, stayed with him on each visit, in case grief spilled into anger.

"Olista's more concerned with chasing one of those vacancies on the Supreme Council," grumped Sallis, after being rejected by Melda for the fourth time.

Two high councilors had decided to retire within weeks of each other, and five senators chased the openings those retirements had created. Olista was one of the five.

"He's not neglecting his other duties," replied Oston, reasonably. "That's not Olista's way. You'll see. Stop worrying, he'll see you tomorrow."

"And every day's delay means the murderer is getting further and further away," retorted Sallis. "I - we must catch him!"

Concern shone in Oston's dark eyes. "You've always taken pride in standing for justice," he said. "Has that changed?"

Sallis looked at Oston for a long moment, stroking his sword hilt. He said nothing in reply.

"Another day won't hurt," said Oston. He grinned. "And I'm coming with you."

Sallis grunted, but finally stepped back and nodded. "All right, I'll see him tomorrow."

"And come to the practice ground," continued Oston. "It might be the last chance you get."

***

Olista Dovna Allert, senator with responsibility for the Guard and legal matters in Marka, never seemed to change. His unlined face and dark blue eyes, framed by a good head of medium-brown hair, gave the impression of wisdom beyond his years. Of course, coming from one of the wealthiest families in Marka, his education had probably been second to none, but he had spent his entire adult life in public service.

Eight years as a lieutenant in the Guard had seen him become one of the few blade grandmasters in Marka, but for most of the past thirteen years he had been in direct charge of nothing more offensive than a desk. However, he held the power to commission bounty-hunters for those tasks falling outside the Guard's usual remit.

When Sallis arrived for his appointment, with Oston in tow, the young hunter eyed the faded gilt lettering on the outside of the door. The name Nelsten Jasin Olfank still adorned the door, though as three centuries had passed since that senator had died, the words were barely legible.

Melda looked up, nodded recognition, and ushered Sallis and Oston into the inner office before withdrawing again. Olista began by offering his condolences.

Sallis mumbled an acceptance, then came straight to the point. "You do know the killer has fled Marka," he said, "and that he expects me to follow?"

"You seem sure." Olista smiled. "Your instincts are usually good, but I'm certain the Guard will learn all they can."

"I'm hoping for one of those letters with the black sealing wax," said Sallis, ignoring Oston's horrified stare.

"I'm sure you are. But you're not getting one."

"Why not?" The young bounty-hunter glared at the senator.

"I respect your frankness, Sallis, so I'll be equally blunt with you." Olista gave him a small smile. "You're too emotionally involved to justify giving you the commission. Your eagerness to accept it is confirmation enough."

"So which bounty-hunter _is_ getting this one?"

"None of them." Olista picked up a quill and fiddled with it. "The Guard can deal with it."

"Who's in charge?"

"None of your enemies." Olista smiled. "You are aware that the Guard will want to interview you?"

Sallis gave an offhand gesture. "When they have, I may as well go home."

Olista leaned forward and his voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Go wherever you like. But I will not and cannot grant you this commission." He leaned back again in his chair. "Do not leave Marka until _after_ your interview."

"Like I've got any choice." Sallis sounded bitter. "Those vacancies are more important to you."

Oston failed to restrain his sigh.

"The Supreme Council beckons, yes." Olista's voice firmed and his eyes hardened. "You have my deepest sympathy, but I suggest you don't upset the few friends you still have in this city."

Sallis barked a laugh. "Like I ever had any." He stood. "I would thank you for your time, but I'm not sure you deserve that."

"Suit yourself." Olista's attention switched to Oston. "Take good care of him."

Oston bobbed his head. "Will do that, Sir." He turned and followed Sallis out from the office, hurrying to catch up.

***

"Are you insane? That was Olista you were talking to!"

Sallis nodded as he ran down the steps from the coronation building. "I noticed. The man's playing games again."

"Just ambitious, nothing more." Oston shrugged. "There are only two places free on that council and he wants one of them."

"I'm not talking about the council," retorted Sallis, who had words of wisdom to share about politically ambitious people. Another time. "He's playing games with _me_."

"What do you mean?"

Sallis restrained a sigh. Why did people always miss the obvious? "He told me to stay in Marka until after the Guard interviews me. He knows I'm leaving the city."

"To go home."

Sallis grimaced. "Olista doesn't believe that."

"Neither do I," grinned Oston. "How do you know the killer has left Marka?"

"I just know he has," said Sallis. His fingers felt for and found the square of cloth that, with luck, nobody realized he had taken from his old room.

Oston looked at his companion and nodded. "Now what?"

"Let's see if your fellow guards will let me into my room now. I've got some things to pack, and then I'll go to Captain Elleyn and demand he gets my interview out of the way. Then I'm going home." Sallis gave Oston a humorless smile.

Oston nodded. "I'll check to make sure my leave has been granted. I've always wanted to see Re Annan and this farm of your father's."

"Still coming with me?"

"You bet. Trips out with you are usually fun."

Sallis firmed his expression. "This one won't be," he promised.

Oston changed the subject. "Need a hand carrying your gear to your new place?"

Sallis considered. "I'm only taking what I need. The rest can be put in storage somewhere; I'll never stop in one place for long again."

Oston nodded. "Who do you think is responsible for this? Any strong contenders?"

Sallis shrugged. "All the violent ones I've captured ended up hanged. That tends to prevent revenge attacks. As for the rest... Well, I can't see it being any of them."

"Someone driven to insanity," remarked Oston. "And who wants to get back at you."

"Nobody I captured lost their family because of me," continued Sallis.

"But some families of those who ended up hanged might well have lost their breadwinner," said Oston. "Might be a relative of someone you saw off."

Sallis almost stopped walking. "I hadn't considered that. But why wait until now?"

"Might have taken them this long to plan it out," replied Oston. "Or to grow old enough to be able to take you on. Perhaps they needed training. I know it feels like longer, but you've only been here three years."

"If they needed to learn a skill, whoever murdered them could have taken me on directly," said Sallis. "What's the point of taking it out on Ulena and her family?" _Taking it out on Pelim._

Oston shrugged. "I doubt very much if the killer has traveled to Re Annan for you to chase after."

"Probably not." Sallis gestured. "Here we are."

They halted outside the building which Sallis had made his home for the past three years. Sallis sighed and fought fresh emotion that welled and threatened to embarrass him in public. A single guardsman stood outside.

"Ganner." Oston inclined his head and the guard responded in kind. "Can we get in yet? The lad needs to collect his gear and move to new lodgings."

"Yes you can," nodded Ganner. The look he directed towards Sallis displayed sympathy. "You can probably get more from in there than we ever could."

Sallis's fingers closed around the square of cloth in his pocket.

"Probably," he said, and stepped inside.

It no longer felt like home.

The bodies had been taken away, but nobody had attempted to clean up the bloodstains. The dead had departed in more ways than one, and the building already felt as if nobody had ever lived here.

Sallis pushed the feeling away and bounded up the stairs and to his room. He pointedly ignored his bed, where he had found Pelim.

"How much stuff have you got here?" asked Oston, from the doorway.

He glanced from where Oston stood, to the board, and back again. No, the man could not have seen the cloth the killer had pinned to it.

"Enough for us to make two trips," replied Sallis.

Oston nodded. "Then we'd better get started."

***

"You can have this one for nothing," said Lyane, "but I'll charge you for any meals. I expect you to be in before the city curfew and you can't bring friends back to your room."

Sallis inspected the small attic room and nodded to himself. A single, narrow bed, an ancient wardrobe that looked like wood beetles had dined on it, and a single scrap of rug were its only furnishings. The tiny window set into the roof looked like it only got cleaned when it rained, and was too small to let in much light even then. But the room itself was spotless, if rather plain.

"It'll do," he said. He did not intend staying long.

"Oston tells me you don't spend much time in the city sometimes."

"I'm planning a trip away," said Sallis.

"Well, you'll be wasting no money on meals you won't need. You can also store your belongings here."

"Yes, I'll take it." Sallis nodded again.

Lyane's dark blue eyes regarded Sallis solemnly for a moment longer, before she finally turned away and left.

Oston half-jumped onto the bed and grinned at the younger man. "It's a dive," he said, gesturing with an arm.

"I won't be staying long," growled Sallis. "Just until I get my interview out of the way."

"You'd better tell Elleyn where you're living then. Else he might never find you, assume that you've run away and send someone after _you_."

"If you were speaking of Vayburn, then I'd believe you," muttered Sallis.

Oston scowled. "Vayburn's not the monster you seem to think."

"Someone happy to let someone else die for a crime he never committed is what makes Vayburn a monster. He already _knew_ the man was innocent, which is worse."

"Only if the man had actually swung for it," countered Oston, swinging his booted feet up onto the bed linen.

"Just thinking about that case disgusts me," replied Sallis. "And take your feet off my bed."

"All right, so you and Vayburn aren't exactly firm friends." Oston sat upright, feet now firmly on the floor. "Want me to hurry the Guard up a little? Get you interviewed so we can go and see Re Annan?"

"Please do. And while you're doing that, I'll unpack."

A grinning Oston took the hint, made his excuses, and left.

***

**Chapter 6 - The Interview**

Oston had called Sallis's new room a dive, but the same could not be said about the rest of Lyane's home. Her other guests were peddlers and small merchants, people who passed through regularly and rarely stayed long. But who also returned again and again. Lyane and her staff kept the entire building spotless and Sallis suspected his room had been offered free thanks only to relative neglect.

Perhaps once it had been used for storage.

Two young men named Aul and Chom, who might have been relatives, ran Lyane's stable block. Lyane did explain the link, but lost Sallis after a few moments. Cousins of cousins, he thought they might be, through her late husband's mother's side. Something like that, anyway.

Lyane also employed a cook named Ronnard, a middle-aged man Sallis suspected might be more than just an employee. There were also Jelina and Manelle, housemaids who claimed to be sisters, but who obviously weren't, and a sad-faced infertile sylph introduced as Rena. The sylph stared at him like he had sprouted a second head and fled immediately she learned his name.

Lyane smiled at Rena's reaction. "You have earned a reputation, young man," she told him.

Sallis thought the sylph had more likely sensed his Gift, and that had frightened her away. He doubted if sylphs would fear someone who helped uphold the law.

Sallis spent the rest of that day kicking his heels in his new room, hoping to be interviewed soon, but Oston did not return until the next morning, wearing uniform.

"Captain Elleyn will interview you today," he said. "Now might be good."

"The top man himself. I'm honored." Sallis's smile never reached his eyes.

"And this is my last watch," added Oston. "I'm officially on leave, so I can come and see Re Annan. Unless Elleyn arrests you as a murderer instead."

"Very funny." Sallis grimaced. "But knowing how the Guard so often conducts its business, that wouldn't surprise me in the slightest."

Oston ignored the dig and led Sallis through Marka's streets and to the main gatehouse.

"Crallin's not involved, is he?" asked Sallis, before they went inside.

Oston grinned. "He's at the west gate. Well out of your way."

Led deeper into the guardhouse, Sallis ignored those who gave him curious looks, though most must know why he was here. Movement caught his attention and he turned just in time to see a familiar female sylph quickly step back out of sight.

Oston rapped at a door, didn't wait for an answer and stepped inside.

"Sallis ti Ath," he announced.

"Send him in," said Elleyn.

Oston opened the door wide. "On your own from here," he murmured to Sallis.

"I'll survive," retorted the younger man, before going inside.

"Sallis," Elleyn greeted him, "come and sit."

The room was sparse, with a table and two chairs. Two mugs sat beside an alovak can on the table. A small stack of paper secured with a string tag sat to one side. A pen rested beside a jar of ink. Sallis took the chair opposite the commander of Marka's City Guard.

"Thank you for seeing me so quickly," said Sallis.

"I know you're addicted to this stuff," said Elleyn, hefting the alovak can and pouring out two mugs.

Captain Elleyn sat in his shirt and breeches, jacket slung casually across the back of his chair, four golden knots of rank showing on one shoulder. His dark hair was noticeably graying, and receding from his forehead. Unlike most other native Markans, Elleyn's eyes were a pale blue, and he regarded Sallis with a friendly air.

Sallis thanked the captain for the alovak and gestured toward it. "I take it you believe I'm not the guilty party."

Elleyn shook his head. "Two of my men on the walls were watching you fight more of my men. Not even you can be in two places at the same time."

"Unfortunately," muttered Sallis. "It would be a useful skill."

"Well, I have to see you," continued Elleyn, "despite all the good work you've done for us. A mere formality, of course."

Sallis tried not to grind his teeth. "Nobody can be above suspicion in these cases," he said, aloud.

"Luckily for you, we have witnesses who spoke to Ulena _after_ you left that morning, and even your friend Crallin says he saw you at his guardhouse. So we know you weren't there."

"But," said Sallis.

Elleyn sighed. "Yes, but. We cannot find any motive why anyone would want to do this. The family had no enemies-"

"I have," interrupted Sallis. "Whoever did this wanted to get at me."

His fingers closed around the scrap of cloth and he fought tears as he remembered Pelim, indecently arranged on his bed.

Elleyn kept his voice gentle. "They've always come for you before now. Nobody in that family even remotely looks like you."

"I know."

Elleyn took a careful swallow of his alovak before sitting back in his chair. "When I was a young guardsman, we had a maniac on the loose. He murdered people for absolutely no other reason than for fun. Some sort of lunacy affected him. He was a frenzied killer, which is how we eventually managed to catch him. But he only ever killed one person at a time. I must ask: if this is aimed at you, why kill all of them?"

Sallis silently thanked Elleyn for not mentioning Pelim by name.

"That's what I would love to discover," he said.

Elleyn leaned forward again. He took one sheet of paper, covered with handwritten notes. "This official documentation clears you of involvement," he said. "It contains witness statements and only requires your signature. All the original documents are in here." His hand rested on the small stack. "You are free to read them all before you sign."

"Yes please," said Sallis, holding out his hand.

Elleyn blinked before pushing the papers across the desk.

"Oston tells me he is traveling to Re Annan with you," he said, making conversation as Sallis began to read.

"That's right," grunted the bounty-hunter, speed-reading the papers.

"I know you must have the killer's trail," said Elleyn, quietly.

"Senator Olista refused to grant me the commission," replied Sallis, as he turned the sheets over. He saw nothing to deter him from signing.

"So he did, so he did." Elleyn took another swallow of alovak. "I'd be very surprised if the killer is still in Marka."

"Me too." Sallis lifted his alovak mug and drained it. "This looks fine; I'll sign."

Elleyn pushed the pen and ink across. "We'll probably never find him," he continued.

Sallis dipped the pen and signed his name. "Probably not." He blew on the wet ink, encouraging it to dry quicker.

"A young man," said Elleyn, "romantically involved with the daughter of a family he lives with. People he has grown to respect and perhaps even love. Then someone comes along and slaughters them. Just to make a point. And you're merely going _home_?"

"That's right." Sallis forced a smile, hoping all his rage and grief remained hidden. "I didn't get the commission, so I'm going home to sulk. Are we done here?"

Elleyn smiled back, though it didn't touch his pale eyes. "We are, Sallis ti Ath, and thank you for your time."

Sallis nodded. He stood, turned and reached for the door handle.

"Whatever you do," said Elleyn, hands clasped before him on the table, "don't bring him back here."

Sallis looked over his shoulder. "I don't know who you mean." Despite his words, he saw disbelief in the other man's pale blue eyes.

"You know very well to whom I refer." Elleyn's smile had gone now. "Good luck, Sallis."

The younger man nodded and left the room. Free to go, he strode towards the door out from the guardhouse. He paused and opened his mouth to ask for his sword back, but he quickly grew aware of strengthening sinabra, the natural odor sylphs emitted. He'd forgotten the familiar sylph he'd espied on his way in.

"I'll pick the sword up in a few minutes," he said.

The old sergeant at the desk nodded.

Sallis turned. "Hello, Geyn," he said.

" _Donenya,_ " Geyn acknowledged him. " _Anya_ would like to see you."

"Now?"

The sylph nodded, strands of silver hair on her earpoints swaying as her head moved. "She is through here."

"All right." He followed Geyn through to another small room, where a woman with light brown hair and sparkling sapphire blue eyes waited.

"Hello Sallis," she said, "come and join me. Only for a few moments."

"Sandev." Sallis inclined his head. This close, he could sense the Gift from her and wondered how Geyn managed to tolerate it. Or perhaps she had grown used to the feeling that usually caused sylphs so much discomfort.

Though Sallis was also Gifted, few shared his particular talents, and even fewer wished to associate with him. Sandev tolerated his presence in her city, but after one meeting when he first arrived in Marka, she had never actively sought him out.

Sallis took the chair beside her.

"I am sorry for your loss," said Sandev.

"Did you See it coming?"

"No." Some of the light left Sandev's eyes.

"You came here just to pass on your condolences?" Sallis rarely saw any reason to be overly polite with the Gifted who, in his opinion, were tainted with more than a little hypocrisy.

Geyn bristled at the rudeness towards her owner.

Sandev looked away and back again. "You're going after the killer," she said.

"I'm going home."

"Good," muttered Geyn. "Insolent boy."

A small smile showed on Sandev's lips. "All right. The reason I came to see you is because you've come to the Malefic Sephiroth's attention."

"Oh? Isn't it a bit late for them to try and recruit me?"

"Sadly, it's never too late for that," replied Sandev. "If only it were so. But you must be especially vigilant. Why they've chosen now to take a closer look at you, I have no idea."

"How do you know they're looking at me now?"

"Not only the City Guard have spies," replied Sandev. "My own network is extensive."

"Are they responsible for the deaths of my friends?" _Pelim_. He forced away the tears threatening to surface.

Sandev shrugged. "I wish I could give you the answer you need, but they are usually more subtle. It's possible they are involved somehow."

_Either way, I'll be finding out soon enough,_ reflected Sallis, again touching the small square of cloth in his pocket. "Why are you so concerned for me?"

"You're one of us," replied Sandev. "Why wouldn't I be concerned?"

"I've felt like one of you ever since I arrived here." Sallis failed to keep a trace of bitterness from his voice.

"Now you're acting like a sulky boy," remarked Sandev, outwardly unruffled. "Naturally, we have let you run your own way; nobody I'm aware of completely shares your talents. But to suggest you've been sidelined, forgotten about or excluded is unfair."

"You weren't around when my friends were getting butchered," countered Sallis.

Sandev winced. "If only I could be there for everybody," she said. "But not even the best of us can See everything, and much of what we _do_ See are things that might happen should a particular course be followed."

"I forget that you have no control at all."

"The Malefic Sephiroth exists to confuse, obscure, sabotage and disrupt everything we do. Can you think of any reason why your adoptive family had to die?"

"To get at me," replied Sallis.

Geyn gave him a sympathetic look and her earpoints wilted.

"To provoke a reaction," said Sandev.

_They'll be getting one of those soon enough,_ reflected Sallis.

"It is unlikely that I could have Seen this, even had I wanted to."

Sallis nodded. "It's my own fault," he mumbled. "I ought to have moved more often. I should never have gotten so emotionally involved."

Sandev gave him a sharp look. "Do not say 'never' again," she cautioned him, "or you will lose part of your humanity."

Sallis said nothing to that.

Sandev stood.

"I wish you the best of luck for the future," she said. "Safe journey home."

Sallis nodded.

At the door, Sandev turned back to face him. "Don't lose yourself," she said. "They will find a way to exploit you. Be on your guard at all times."

"I'll pass on your best wishes to Elvallon," said Sallis.

Sandev smiled. "Of course you will."

***

**Chapter 7 - Leaving Marka**

Freed from the stables after a couple of days, Glyder pranced for a few moments before settling down. The horse could barely contain his excitement as he eyed weapons and bedroll, panniers and spare blankets, all of which spoke of a long journey ahead.

Finally satisfied that everything was as it should be, Sallis swung up into the saddle, the hood of his long brown cloak pushed back from his face. He managed a small smile at Oston's attempts to clamber onto his black gelding.

"Try swinging your leg over the saddle," he said, helpfully.

Oston growled something unintelligible.

"You didn't have this trouble last time we rode out," remarked Sallis. "Are you getting fatter?"

"It's Hammer getting taller," Oston snapped back. "He's still a growing horse."

"Aye, and you're still a growing lad," said bald Jerret, leaning on his spear, "except Hammer's growing upwards and you're growing outwards."

The guardsmen beside the gate burst out laughing.

Sallis remained silent. Perhaps Hammer _had_ grown some, but he could hardly tell the difference. The gelding's mane and tail, both with a reddish tint, had been braided.

"Ready Oston?" he asked.

Oston, red-faced through exertion or anger or both, nodded. "Lead on."

Sallis rode Glyder out through the south gate. As soon as they were clear, Oston brought Hammer alongside Glyder.

"Nobody believes you're going to Re Annan," said Oston.

"I noticed."

Now free of the city, Sallis took deep breaths of cleaner air and looked around. Most fields here were given over to arable crops, the first shoots already pushing through the dark soil. Pigs, sheep and cattle wandered across fallow land on the other side of the road. Forest-cloaked hillsides, the source of Marka's wood, surrounded the farmland except to the south.

"Hardly recognize that place," said Sallis, nodding towards the remains of a building.

"Mermack's," said Oston, as if Sallis did not already know. "He moved back into the city."

Little more than the foundations remained of Senator Mermack's villa, with most of the stone carted away for new buildings elsewhere. Sallis felt a twinge of sadness; after all, he had caught the trail that eventually established his reputation here.

A thief had been driving Marka's plutocrats insane with fear for their wealth, and Sallis had been set on his trail after a murder at one rich man's villa. Then the thief robbed Mermack's out-of-town villa: one last crime before heading south for home and safety.

And, for the first time, Sallis had found something belonging to that thief, which ultimately led to his capture. Better for him - but worse for the City Guard - he then knew for sure that thief and murderer were two people, and not one.

And because men like Vayburn of the City Guard were prepared to lump theft and murder together, Sallis ended up protecting the thief from a noose, and cleared his name of the murder charge.

Not that Kein had ever showed much gratitude for the service.

"Wonder if it was that Kein," said Oston, as they passed the abandoned villa. "He did threaten you with revenge."

"Not his style," replied Sallis. "If he came after me, then mayhap, but not... not them."

"Maybe Pusila's family?" pressed Oston.

"I'm sure they would have acted before now," replied Sallis. "Besides, they are all in Marka, and we are out here."

"Only because you're going home," said Oston. He turned in his saddle to look back at Marka, already seeming to shrink as they moved away. Small dots showed where people entered and left the city. He turned back and his eyes narrowed. "You're following a trail!"

Sallis almost smiled.

Oston shook his head. "You aren't going home to Re Annan at all. You're going after the killer!"

Sallis shrugged. "Maybe."

"What did you take from the room?" Oston shook his head again. "You took something after you promised me you wouldn't!"

"This." Sallis flourished the small piece of cloth. "He pinned it to my board, and wrote me another message."

"Which you erased." Accusation thickened Oston's voice.

"Yes. The Guard has not always been open with me, so now it's my turn to return the favor."

"What did the message say?" Oston grinned at the prospect of a new chase.

"Come and get me," replied Sallis.

"So you _are_ going after him?"

Sallis gave his companion a wolfish grin. "What do you think?"

He turned to look ahead again, and pulled the hood of his brown cloak forward to obscure his face.

Touching heels to Glyder's flanks, he leaned forward as the horse broke into a gallop.

Oston thinned his lips before copying Sallis's lead and urging Hammer to catch the other horse.

He'd known. Everybody had known. No way could Sallis just walk away from whoever murdered friends who had looked after him the past three years.

The chase was on.

***

**Chapter 8 - Riding South**

Oston reined Hammer to a halt, leaned on his pommel and gestured with his free hand. Trees and small copses dotted the scrubby land, grazed by semi-feral goats and sheep.

"Calcan road's along that way," he said.

"I know." Sallis smiled as he rode slowly past the turn, only a little less rutted than the road south.

"So we're off to Istwan?" Oston grinned at Sallis's cloaked back. "Sure we're not after Kein?"

"Kein doesn't come from Istwan," replied Sallis. "And like I said, I'm not after him. Thieving from families is his style, not murdering them."

"Men change," pointed out Oston.

"Still isn't Master Kein's way," insisted Sallis. "This is something different. And Kein is no killer. I saved him from the accusations of murder, remember?"

"And you got him banished from Marka."

"The _court_ banished him from Marka; I thought he would go to prison. So in revenge for being banished by someone who's not me, he decided to risk his liberty by returning to Marka, murdering people who weren't me, leaving me messages and melting away again?" Sallis shook his head. "That makes no sense. I doubt very much if I've ever come across this killer before."

Oston snorted. "So someone randomly happened across the wrong family?"

"This was planned. The killings were aimed at me." Sallis kept his voice quiet. "But the killer wanted to provoke me, not exact revenge."

"That makes no sense either," protested Oston.

Sallis pondered Sandev's words. "Maybe not," he said. Perhaps she had told him the full truth, after all. "But we'll never find out staring at the Calcan road." He pointed south. "The killer went that way."

"I hate it when you're always so certain," grumbled Oston, touching Hammer's flanks with his heels.

"You should know by now," replied Sallis.

He glanced over his shoulder, looking north.

Oston gave him a quizzical look.

Sallis shrugged and pulled himself together. "Just a feeling," he said, answering his companion's unasked question. "Daft, but it feels like we're being followed."

"Wait till later," said Oston, "and we can check our backtrail. Just in case."

***

Sallis applauded Oston's choice of campsite. Set just off the road, trees and bushes sheltered it from the worst the wind could offer - from most directions anyway - and gave them considerable privacy. Sallis doubted if many people actually moved at night, as only sylphs could see really well in the dark and they tended not to drive caravans and carts.

They checked the two horses quickly, and tethered them to a tree branch, in case either was tempted to wander after their riders.

Sallis and Oston laid out their bedrolls quickly, built and lit a small fire, then took their swords as they left the small camp.

Oston wandered back the way they had come in the gathering gloom of evening, while Sallis scrambled part way up a tree to see further. Both road and countryside appeared completely deserted. Copses and lone trees provided plenty of cover for anyone hiding out there, but Sallis saw no hint of anyone following them.

And yet the feeling persisted.

"Nothing," said Oston, when he returned.

Sallis dropped out of the tree and shrugged. "We'll still keep watches," he said. "Safer that way."

Oston nodded agreement at the sense of this. "There are always lone travelers prepared to thieve off others," he said. "No guardsmen out here to protect the innocent."

"There used to be," said Sallis, quietly.

"Back when the lands were one empire," said Oston. "A pity we can't have the security without authority."

"Balance," said Sallis. "A question of balance. Authority is fine provided it obeys its own rules. The problem is when authority becomes abusive and restricts the freedom of people to act in their own interest."

Oston shrugged. "But surely some restriction is necessary, else authority could never keep the peace."

"Some." Sallis shrugged. "But it is always better to apply restrictions at the behest of the people, rather than against them."

"Thought for supper?" Oston grinned. "Come on, else it'll be tomorrow before we eat."

***

**Chapter 9 - The Hooded Falcon**

Walking into the taproom of the Hooded Falcon, Sallis felt that he had never been away, and the intervening three years had never happened. He felt almost as he did the last time, chasing after a thief accused of murder.

Half the patrons, who were sipping ale or eating meals, seemed vaguely familiar, and the two sylphs stood deferentially beside the barrels of ale he definitely recognized. They had reached their full height since he had last seen them.

A woman in a dazzling white apron and long gray dress straightened from where she had been wiping tankards dry. Her hazel eyes fixed firmly on his face.

"Good afternoon, Sallis ti Ath," she greeted him.

"Mistress Ranessa." Sallis forced a smile of recognition. "You have a good memory for names."

"Aye, and putting them to faces." Ranessa returned the smile. "Rooms again, young master?"

"For one night, yes please." Sallis winked at the two infertile sylphs. "And you are Fessan and Mellan," he said. "You've both grown well."

The two sylphs flushed a brighter blue and bobbed their heads.

"Work well too," said Ranessa. "Go look after the customers."

" _Se bata_ ," both sylphs murmured together, before moving away to watch the room again.

"Just you?"

Sallis shook his head. "I brought Oston with me again," he replied. "He likes a run out from Marka."

"Is he sightseeing?"

"I left him outside with the horses."

Ranessa nodded. "Can you remember the way around to the stables?"

"I can. Shall we meet you there?"

"Yes, I'll tell Yadder and Gord to expect you."

Sallis inclined his head and turned to leave the bar. His gaze flickered casually across the patrons, but nobody seemed to pay him any attention. The way he liked it.

"Have we got rooms?" Oston sat on his saddlebag and looked up at Sallis as he left the building.

"I have," replied Sallis. "She's putting you in the stable."

"Right." Oston's dark eyes glittered with amusement. "I'm sure Ranessa would eat a barrel before letting a customer sleep in the stable."

Sallis and Oston led their horses around to the Hooded Falcon's stables, where the familiar Yadder met them. They remembered each other (or perhaps Yadder remembered Sallis's coin), but the boy with him was unfamiliar.

"This is Gord," said Yadder, by way of introduction.

Gord, a smaller version of Yadder, wore shirt, breeches and boots. On the cusp of his final growth spurt into manhood, his bare arms were corded with sinewy muscle, and his broad shoulders added to an air of capability.

"No Guyle?" asked Sallis, recalling that a male sylph used to work out here.

"Returned," replied Yadder. "That's going back; he was only here on loan."

Sallis and Oston stripped the tack from their horses and then Gord began to clean it. He also offered to look after the two animals, but Sallis shook his head and began to check Glyder's hooves for small stones caught in the shoes. After that, he brushed the horse's coat and ensured he had plenty of oats to carry him through.

Gord worked quickly on the tack and satisfied Sallis that he knew his work. Sallis should not think of him as a boy; Gord looked only a handful of years younger than he.

Ranessa came into the stable.

"No wonder my servants are growing lazy," she said, seeing her guests currying their horses.

"It's all right," said Oston, "we prefer to look after our own animals. And that's no comment on your lads."

"Well, you'd best come inside, and I'll show you to your rooms."

Sallis and Oston, hefting their saddlebags, followed Ranessa back into the inn and up familiar stairs, where a single light-crystal lit an otherwise dingy corridor surrounded by doors to the letting rooms.

Wealthier by far than when he last visited, Sallis had paid for a larger room, and it had windows looking out over the town, rather than the back of the neighboring building.

"I'll set the sylphs to preparing your baths," said Ranessa. "One will come up when they're ready."

Sallis thanked her, before dropping his bag beside the bed he intended to claim for his own.

"Better than last time we were here," observed Oston, kicking off his boots and reclining on the other bed, head resting on his clasped hands.

Sallis opened the outer door and checked to ensure nobody had an ear pressed against it.

"You're getting jumpy," murmured Oston. "More than before."

"I'm wondering if whoever is following us knows we'll come here," said Sallis.

"Still sure someone is following?" Oston sat up. "We found nobody."

"That doesn't mean that nobody is there," countered Sallis. "Just that if someone is, they know what they're about."

"Even so, how many inns are in Istwan?" Oston leaned back again. "They've got no chance of finding out which one we're staying in."

Sallis pondered Sandev's warning again. "They might not be alone."

"I'm starting to think you need locking away for your own good," retorted Oston. "You sound like you're losing your mind."

"Not yet." Sallis grimaced. "But the people I'm worried about rarely work alone."

"If someone's following us, they're probably far behind," said Oston. "Relax and enjoy that bath. The best in Istwan, as I recall."

Sallis looked at the only painting in the room, a calming forest with clouds scudding across an otherwise blue sky.

He knew, no matter what Oston said, that someone had followed them from Marka. And that someone was anything but friendly toward them.

***

**Chapter 10 - Gaining Ground**

Breakfast was every bit as filling and wholesome as Sallis remembered from his last visit. Hot oatmeal with fresh cream - something he suspected the infertile sylphs were fed on here - preceded slices of cold meats, a selection of fowl, beef and mutton, with fresh bread rolls and creamy butter to finish off. Not to mention several mugs of strong, steaming alovak.

Fessan and Mellan waited on with a lot less fuss then he remembered from last time. Though, in fairness, both sylphs had been relatively new to their duties then. They had probably enjoyed plenty of practice since.

Sallis and Oston were not the only guests, though they were first down to the large dining table. A merchant appeared next, followed by a peddler, both looking as if they had imbibed perhaps a little too much ale the evening before. Oston had enjoyed a mug or two before bed, but Sallis always avoided drinks that might slow his reactions.

After saying goodbye to Ranessa (and furtively slipping the two infertiles slivers of choca, gratefully received and consumed less than a second later), Sallis led Oston to the stable, where both Glyder and Hammer were saddled and ready to go.

As before, Sallis tipped Yadder with a silver coin, adding another for Gord. Yadder bit into his coin before secreting it away.

"Be seeing you again one of these days," he grinned and jerked a thumb towards the two horses. "A pleasure to look after them." He touched Hammer's black nose. "This one's got the look of a warhorse, but not the temperament."

Oston, grateful for Hammer's even temper, smiled and nodded. Marka's City Guard did not have a cavalry, so the horses were more for ceremonial duties than charges against enemies.

Gord opened the yard gate, so Sallis and Oston could lead their mounts out to the alley. The street beyond was already busy and growing busier by the minute.

"Nice and relaxed?" asked Sallis, fingers brushing against the square of cloth in his pocket.

"Yes." Oston nodded. "And my rear doesn't feel as bad as last time I rode out with you."

"When we get out of the city, I'll pick the trail up again," said Sallis. "We'll try to catch up some more today."

"You mean to say you're not on his trail _now_?" Oston stared.

"He didn't come into the city," replied Sallis. "Which is why we're leaving by the same gate we entered."

"He might have doubled back!"

"I doubt it." Sallis's face hardened. "He's expecting me to follow."

"You'd better know what you're doing," muttered Oston.

Sallis frowned. "Have I ever let you down?"

"Gamal breaking your old quarterstaff might be the start of your luck changing," muttered Oston. "For the worse."

Sallis grunted. "The moment I find a decent bit of wood, I'll be making a new one," he promised.

As they wanted to leave the city, rather than enter it, they suffered no delay and passed straight through the gates, barely noticed by even the guards, who were more concerned about those who wanted to come within the walls. The moment they left the city, they mounted - Oston with more difficulty than Sallis - and rode back the way they had come.

"This is where we left the trail," said Sallis. "Here we go, back on it again."

Sallis turned Glyder west, then began to arc south once they were well away from Istwan's walls.

"No road here," said Oston. "And I hope this is grass we're trampling, rather than some poor sod's crop."

Sallis pointed to a line of trees. "We'll pick up the road over there," he said. "Our man's cut across country to avoid the city." He glanced down at the ground. "And this _is_ someone's crop, so we'd best get a move on."

"Naughty us," tutted Oston. He glanced up at the pale blue sky. "Be just our luck to get caught."

"The man we're chasing probably isn't so morally motivated."

Sallis touched his heels to Glyder's flanks and the animal picked up speed.

As Sallis had thought, the trees lined the road, perhaps wide enough for carts to pass each other easily.

"Still with him?" asked Oston.

"I am."

"This is the Selim road," continued the guardsman. "We'll have to stock up on supplies."

"Oh?"

"Two days from now and this road plunges into forest. After that, the going gets hard as we've got a mountain range to pass before reaching Selim." Oston grinned. "There isn't much traffic."

"Which might be the reason our fugitive has chosen this road," said Sallis. "You up for a bit of hard riding?"

Oston nodded. "At least I don't have to stay seated for that. Let's see which of these two can run furthest, fastest."

Sallis snorted, touched heel to flank, and forged ahead, Oston following his lead moments later.

***

Well ahead of the lumbering Oston, Sallis reined in and stood in his stirrups. Cultivated land had been left behind long ago, and they had seen nobody else on the road, now little more than a track, rutted by heavy carts. Copses of low, wind-stunted trees broke up the monotonous view of rough scrub. But in the distance, far to the south-east, he espied mountaintops, white spires jutting into the sky like an impenetrable wall. And a dark line, which must mark the start of the forest.

"Thought you said the forest was two days away," remarked Sallis, as Oston finally caught up. Glyder's stamina had won over Hammer's initial burst of speed, which the animal had failed to maintain.

"Riding at ordinary speeds," grunted Oston. "Not if you intend galloping there."

"The space out here is amazing," said Sallis. "And most of the continent is like this."

"Used to be much busier," replied Oston.

"Where did all the people go?" asked Sallis. "There's no sign anyone ever lived here."

"When an empire collapses, the result is usually messy," replied Oston, after a moment's thought. "Local lords fight each other for dominance, burn each other's crops, and peasants starve as a result. Or are slaughtered."

"Unpleasant," said Sallis. He stared along the path again. "We've gained some ground. We can gain some more before nightfall."

"Not so fast," cautioned Oston. "Hammer at least won't be able to keep up."

"We'll stay together," promised Sallis. "I know how frightened you city boys get when out in the countryside."

"Well, there are things out here to be frightened of," pointed out Oston. "Bears, for one. They like forests without any people. Then there's wildcats the size of ponies. Mountain lions."

"Snakes and spiders," added Sallis, with a wry grin. "Cats of any size tend to steer clear of people, most bears too if they've got any sense."

"But there are always exceptions," frowned Oston.

"Of course. Bears aren't the only creatures who like places free from people. Wild sylphs, for example. And ilven are forest-dwellers."

"Ilven?" Oston hooted in derision. "You been reading faery stories?"

"This is the ilvenworld," countered Sallis. "So ilven live on it. Somewhere."

"But not here." Oston shook his head and snorted. "Ilven!"

"You suit yourself. A quick break here, and we'll ride on."

After resting, more for the horses' benefit, Sallis pushed hard for the forest. The trail seemed brighter, and Sallis knew he steadily gained ground on his prey. Oston sniggered that he only rushed so he might catch a glimpse of the mythical ilven.

"They can't be that mythical," countered Sallis. "A choir of them sang at the coronation of your first emperor."

"So the historians like to say." Oston's smile failed to hide his skepticism. "Ilven don't exist."

Sallis shrugged. Besides, he hurried in the hope of catching the man who had slaughtered his friends and adoptive family.

They pushed on for longer than normal and reached the forest in the late afternoon. Sallis found a likely spot for a camp and Oston quickly had a small fire going, though they had too little time for cooking. They shared hard biscuit and cold water for their evening meal.

Oston unrolled his blankets first. "You're having first watch again?"

Sallis, staring into the flames, nodded. "Until moonrise," he agreed.

But when the moon did rise, Sallis was in no hurry to wake his companion.

***

**Chapter 11 - The Wild Sylph**

Night noises filled the forest. Small animals foraged for themselves and their young. Sudden calls showed where diurnal creatures had been disturbed. Small cracklings in the undergrowth betrayed the presence of furtive hunters and equally furtive prey.

These sounds were often present during the day also, but night dulled a man's vision, so other senses intensified to compensate for the lost input. This increased awareness of sounds, without being able to see, was probably what frightened so many city folk stuck in forests at night.

No city boy, Sallis reveled in the night sounds. That screech belonged to a woodcock, and those rustlings were small rodents grubbing for insects. A short, grunting cough revealed the location of a young wildcat hunting the rodents.

Hoping for more, he did not wait long. The forest quietened; his first warning. At first, nothing seemed different, but a vagrant gust of wind brought a familiar odor.

Sinabra.

Sallis turned his head. The sylph had been clever, approaching from downwind. He decided to speak slowly and quietly, using the sylph tongue. He doubted this creature would have any knowledge of his language.

" _E donkinit_ ," he said, using slightly formal speech. "I am Gifted, and offer you and yours no harm. I am named Sallis ti Ath."

Coming from a direction Sallis did not expect, the sylph entered the circle of firelight cautiously, silvery-gray eyes wary, earpoints laid back in his silver hair. He wore breeches of some sort of spun fiber that came short of his knees, and a shirt with laces halfway down the front. A cape that looked like yellowflax covered much of the rest of him. He carried a short staff and a net.

"Come and join me," invited Sallis. "I am no slaver."

"Yet you are a hunter," said the sylph, keeping his distance.

"Takes one to know one," replied Sallis peaceably, eyeing the staff and net.

"I do not hunt my own kind."

"Very perceptive." Sallis managed a smile. "What draws you so close: knowing I hunt wrongdoers, or that I am Gifted?"

The sylph's eyes glowed as they reflected the firelight, their owner moving sinuously until he stood almost opposite Sallis. He glanced across at the sleeping Oston and stood on the balls of his feet, ready for instant flight.

Sallis offered no reassurance or encouragement. He suspected his words would not influence this sylph anyway.

" _Donkinit, dondurkinit; ab necul vuca_ ," he replied, eventually.

"There is a world of difference between Gifted and sorcerers," said Sallis, stung into defending himself. " _Donkinitul ne durmagula_."

The sylph stared, but looked no less wary than before.

"You hunt now?"

Sallis gave a smile of anticipation. "We chase a killer, yes."

The sylph shuddered and his earpoints wilted before recovering. They still lay back in his hair, shouting mistrust to the world.

"Just the one man," he continued. "I know he passed through. One man alone."

The sylph moved back from the fire and the glow from his eyes faded. His voice reached Sallis from the darkness. "A man of malice and sadness," said the wild sylph. "Yet his heart is not so dark as yours."

"When that man dies, my heart will lighten," promised Sallis.

"No," disagreed the sylph's voice, "only darken further."

"Did you see him pass through? How far ahead is he? Has he left the forest yet?"

Sallis did not know if the sylph heard him or not, but no answer came from the darkness and before long, all the normal forest sounds returned. The wild visitor had gone.

Sallis woke Oston.

"Your watch," he replied. "Wake me before dawn."

Sallis wrapped himself in his bedroll, but sleep was a long time coming.

***

**Chapter 12 - Passing Through**

"When did you go fishing?" demanded Oston, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He stared at the four small fish, gutted and wrapped in broadleaf, sizzling in Sallis's small pan over the fire.

Sallis smiled. "I've not strayed from this spot. We happen to be in wild sylph country and a one of their hunters left us these as a gift."

Oston stared. "I've never heard of wild sylphs behaving like this."

"These do," replied Sallis. "Though I think it depends who's traveling through their lands."

"We're honored guests?"

"More a 'please pass on quickly'," replied Sallis. "Sylphs aren't often fanatical for the Gifted, and wild sylphs even less so. These are ready; don't burn your fingers."

Oston grunted thanks and began to devour the small mountain trout. "So you've antagonized the crowd living here too? Doesn't surprise me."

Sallis gave his companion a tolerant smile. "Wash that down with water, then we'll get on."

Before leaving, Sallis buried the remnants of their fire and scuffed over all traces of the small camp, while Oston saddled both Hammer and Glyder. Sallis felt very aware of patient silver-gray eyes watching every move as he worked. The sylphs did not show themselves, but then he did not really expect them to. Wild sylphs were usually shy of all humans, not only Gifted ones.

Before the fish even had time to settle on their stomachs, they were on the road again, following the rutted track through the dark forest.

"Nearly as bad as night," grumbled Oston.

"Hardly," replied Sallis, as he passed through a ray of sunshine. "There's plenty of plants growing down here and they need light to survive."

Oston changed the subject. "Did you have an enjoyable chat with the wild sylphs?"

"Yes, and their females came along and danced to keep me company before I woke you up. But they prefer dancing for tall skinny humans, rather than short, fat ones."

"Be still, my violent hands," growled Oston. "No need to break his neck just yet."

Sallis laughed.

They did not press hard, as Sallis knew they were catching up with his target. The horses had been ridden quite hard yesterday, so they probably deserved an easier day.

Oston shuddered. "Why does it feel like someone's watching us?"

"Probably because someone is," answered Sallis. Although he had glimpsed no movements, he had the same shivery feeling. "The wild sylphs will be keeping an eye on us."

"What do they think we might do?"

"Turn off and try to find their home," replied Sallis. "Wild sylphs fear slavers above all else."

"Strange creatures. The sylphs I know all seem happy enough."

"A matter of culture," said Sallis. "The sylphs we know were all bred for slavery, but these were born wild."

"But it's what they _are_ ," insisted Oston. "How do the infertiles cope? You know how the breeders treat them; they need _someone_."

Sallis, who had never met a wild sylph before last night, shrugged. "Perhaps they look after each other. Or else wild sylphs treat their infertiles differently from the way domestic sylphs treat their own. Maybe wild parents don't reject them."

"I suspect they do," said Oston. "The same for all sylphs. To them, infertiles are useless mouths, and parents raise them until they're old enough to stand up by themselves, then reject them. All sylphs do that, so I don't see these being any different."

Sallis heard truth in Oston's words. The infertile wound, caused by the pain of separation inflicted by their own parents, was how humans managed to get such docility and obedience from their infertile sylph slaves. Rejected by their own kind, infertiles readily bonded with human owners, willing to accept any attention, even negative attention, that showed they at least belonged.

"Breeders are more independent," he said. "They probably find some use for infertiles."

"They'd better," said Oston. "Infertile sylphs outnumber males and females combined. And I don't see too many wild infertile sylphs passing through our markets."

"You might not be looking hard enough," said Sallis. "Everybody knows a certain number of sylphs in the markets have been taken illegally."

"Only if they're breeders," retorted Oston. "I expect they push surplus infertiles out from their colonies."

Sallis shrugged. "I've never heard of it, but I suppose you might be right. They say a lot of the young males leave their homes and look for other tribes."

"Instinctive, I was told," said Oston. "Helps prevent the bloodlines from growing too close."

Sallis wondered how many of them made it. Sylph males were rare enough as it was, and he suspected a good number of these young wild sylph males found their way into stud farms, never to leave again.

"Enough of bloody sylphs," continued Oston. "Are we getting any closer to him?"

Sallis nodded. "With every step," he said, grimly.

***

**Chapter 13 - Captured**

They were still deep in the forest's gloom when Sallis turned Glyder off the main track to follow a fainter, but still visible, path. Oston paused, then turned Hammer's head to follow.

"Hope you know what you're doing," said Oston. "It's easy to get lost in forests."

"Only for city boys," retorted Sallis. "Some of us know how to follow the sun."

Oston craned his neck and peered upwards. "If you could see the sun."

"The sylphs have no problems," Sallis pointed out.

"But they live here," protested Oston. "They've probably given every single tree its own name."

"Besides," continued Sallis, changing the subject away from sylphs, "the killer went this way. The trail he left doesn't lie."

Oston subsided.

The trees abruptly thinned, and Sallis reined in to stop himself blundering onto a grassy clearing, at the center of which stood a small, wooden house, its roof made from thatch. Smoke tumbled from the lone chimney, but there was otherwise no sign of life.

"Woodcutters?" asked Oston.

"The trail leads directly to it," whispered Sallis. "Wait here, and I'll scout around in a circle, see if it passes out again."

Glyder's reins were thrust into Oston's hands together with a whispered admonition to keep silence, and Sallis melted into the forest. He kept the clearing and the small house in sight as he circled around it, hoping to pick the trail up again.

Well, part of him hoped he wouldn't.

And he didn't.

As he moved, he weighed his options. He suspected the house consisted of a single room, with perhaps a mezzanine over to separate a sleeping area. Though wood was piled to the eaves at the back of the building, he saw no sign of activity. Only the smoke, tumbling from the chimney.

No tools in sight, and no outbuildings. No horse either, which surprised Sallis. The killer must have _some_ transport to have kept ahead for so long. Worse, he found no sign of a horse hidden in the forest.

But Sallis chose to ignore the warning the lack of an animal should have shouted to him. His anger and hatred rose as he realized the killer _must_ be inside the building. He returned to Oston.

"He's in there," he whispered. "No sign of the trail leaving that hut."

"How many windows?" asked Oston.

"One at the back and the one we're looking at."

"Door at the back too?"

Sallis nodded.

Oston took one look at Sallis's face and firmed himself. "We'll have to take it from the sides," he said. "Then through the doors at the same time. D'you think he knows we're here?"

"I hope not yet." Sallis's voice had firmed and his expression grew determined. "He's about to find out."

They secured Glyder and Hammer, Sallis's horse looking most put out that he didn't receive his usual gentle pat as his master stepped away.

"Remember to keep low under the window," warned Sallis.

Oston gave his companion a tolerant look as they parted company. Sallis had opted for the front door, leaving Oston with the back. Once in position, they crept out from the trees, swords drawn. They reached the ends of the small house, where Sallis paused to listen again.

Still nothing. The trail led straight to the hut and did not leave again. The man _must_ be inside. Sallis stuck his head around the corner, spotted Oston at the opposite end, and raised his hand.

Oston withdrew and Sallis knew the guardsman was making his way towards the back door, while he crept towards the front. There was a latched door, which he hoped remained unlocked, because kicking in a door often brought more trouble than it was worth.

Silently, Sallis lifted the latch, pulled the door open and jumped inside, aware of sudden light as Oston did exactly the same at the back. He barely had time to take in a single room, as he'd suspected, and a brilliant fire at the far end, before the world turned black.

***

When Sallis came to, he and Oston were secured to the uprights of the far frame that helped form the small house. Tied tightly, he could not move arms or legs, and he hoped his blood still flowed freely.

An ax hung on either side of the fireplace and Sallis spotted children's toys carelessly pushed into one corner. In the opposite corner, he saw the unmistakable shape of a quarterstaff. Sallis doubted if the real owner would be along to collect it any time soon. Their swords were laid along the wall under the window.

A man sat at the only table and, if he was a woodcutter, Sallis would eat the thatched roof. A mop of shaggy black hair covered a round head that sat atop a squat body. Sallis knew the sort: men, often unfairly classed as unintelligent, used for those unpleasant tasks the criminal classes would rather not do themselves.

But these men, undesirable as they were, had their own code of honor. They did not kill families, they recoiled from murdering children and they would not slaughter sylphs.

Which meant this man was different from the rest.

At his side, Oston stirred and groaned, and the man looked around, dark blue eyes regarding them both solemnly.

"Awake now?"

The man's voice sounded surprisingly normal, and Sallis realized he had expected a low growl or slow speech. He stared back.

The man stood and crossed to join them. Well, to join Sallis, because he ignored Oston completely.

"So you can follow," he said.

Sallis's anger flared. "Why did you kill them?"

No reaction at all; no guilt, shame, pride. Nothing.

"Once you touch, that is it," continued the other man. "You can no longer follow." He stretched out a hand, but stopped short of touching Sallis. "Even if unconscious? You've already touched me, when I tied you here."

"Why did you murder them?"

The man shrugged. "To bring you here," he said. "Nothing more." He gestured around the room. "You have caused us so much trouble, Sallis ti Ath. Not only your friends had to die. A family of seven lived here." Finally, some emotion from the other man: a small smile. "And I've taken great care to ensure that nothing of mine has been left behind this time. You may as well relax; he will be here soon."

"Who is he?" demanded Oston.

The man ignored him again. "Poor Sallis ti Ath," he said, his voice holding a slightly mocking tone. "Denied his prey. Seething with hate because he lost his friends, and that hate burns more brightly because here stands the killer. And he can do nothing."

The man turned on his heel, opened the door, and left the small house.

"What is that all about?" demanded Oston.

"Good question." Sallis strained against his bonds, but they held firm. He realized something else. He could no longer sense the other man. He had spoken truly; Sallis had, no matter how inadvertently, touched his target and could no longer follow him.

"Why didn't he kill us?"

Sallis remembered Sandev's words. The only real mystery was why he hadn't killed Oston, but he said nothing. "There's more than one of them," he said.

"This 'he'?"

"His horse must be hidden somewhere, or how else could he have kept ahead of us? But I never found his trail, which I would have. That means someone else hid his horse for him. He claims to have left nothing behind in this room, which suggests someone else tidied it for him."

Oston chuckled. "Vayburn was right about one thing."

"What's he got to do with anything?"

"You really would have made an excellent guardsman."

Sallis gave a skeptical grunt. "You don't pay well enough," he retorted.

Both men continued to struggle against their bonds, in the hope of working a rope loose, or reaching a knot they could work on with their fingers, but their captor knew his work too well.

"The beggar must have been a sailor," growled Oston in disgust. "He's got me tied up too well."

Sallis felt frustration on more than one level. Not only was he secured so he could not free himself, but he had failed to catch the killer. That did not mean he had given up, though. He did not believe in giving up.

They had been struggling for almost an hour, when Sallis saw a shadow pass one of the windows. And both men stilled as the latch on the front door suddenly lifted.

Someone was about to come in.

***

**Chapter 14 - Unexpected Surprise**

Sallis had never expected to see the man who now entered again. Hazel eyes, light brown hair and a lined face.

"Gamal?" Oston recovered first.

"Shush!" Gamal looked over his shoulder and slipped the door shut behind him. "With any luck, he's still looking for your horses."

"How did you find us?" demanded Oston, while Sallis watched thoughtfully.

"Never mind that," replied Gamal, drawing his dagger and working it through Oston's bonds. "I followed you. I've moved your horses somewhere safer, but we must leave quickly. There are two of them."

The rope securing Oston finally parted and the solidly-built guardsman stepped forward and rubbed his arms.

"He said someone would be coming," said Sallis, his dark eyes suspicious. "I did not expect it to be you."

"Me?" Gamal's eyebrows lifted together. "You're lucky I followed you here. You're even luckier I noticed your tracks turning off the main route."

"Then how do you know there are two?"

"Because I've seen the other one in the woods. We must hurry, else he'll be here." He pointed at Sallis with his dagger before beginning work on his bonds. "For some reason he's especially interested in you. Something to do with you being Gifted, perhaps?"

Moments later, Sallis was rubbing his own arms, pleased to note that nothing had gone to sleep. At least his blood flow had not been interrupted.

"Don't forget your weapons!" cautioned Gamal, indicating their swords.

Oston claimed his and strapped the belt around his waist. Sallis picked up his own which was unsheathed, as he always slung his sword belt around his pommel, and leaned forward to touch the staff.

Gamal smiled. "A replacement for the one I broke?"

"Something like that." The moment Sallis's fingers grasped the wooden stave, he nodded in approval. This was a well-made staff, solid and portable. Long, but not overly thick.

"Well, if you feel you might need it, bring it along. Looks like the rightful owner has no further need for it."

"If someone's coming for us, I suggest we disappear now," said Oston, sounding almost cheerful. "Lead on to the horses, Gamal."

Gamal gave a quick nod, and opened the door a crack. Satisfied they were alone, he left, Oston and Sallis almost treading on his heels.

Sallis held his sword at the ready, face exuding cold determination. "Why did you move the horses?" he asked Gamal.

"In case he went looking for them," replied Gamal. "He might have wanted to kill them to slow you down."

Sallis's mouth worked soundlessly. He no longer had the trail; touching his quarry had returned his following talent to quiescence. The man might be anywhere.

Gamal looked at him closely. "You've lost it, haven't you?" he asked, quietly. "Well, you're in luck. Not only do I know who the killer is, but I also know where he lives. Care to come with me on the journey?"

As they entered the trees, Sallis paused. "Why should I trust you?"

Gamal laughed. "Have you got any better ideas? At least with me you have a chance of catching up with the man who murdered your girlfriend's family."

"Do you know the other man, the one interested in me?"

Gamal nodded. "You don't want to be messing about with him. Sorcerers are rarely pleasant people, once they become adepts. And this one is definitely skilled."

Gamal abruptly turned aside to where a couple of trees had fallen against a third, forming a sort of cave. Three horses were within, and Glyder snorted a greeting as he saw Sallis.

Sallis sheathed his sword and ensured all his belongings were still in place, noticing Gamal's face tighten in anger as he did so. Not caring what the newcomer thought of this insult, Sallis led Glyder back into the sunshine.

"The day's drawing on," he said. "If you're going to lead me to this killer, I'm ready when you are."

Gamal laughed. "They did say you were determined."

"What's his name and where does he live?" asked Sallis.

"He's known simply as Rannet," replied Gamal. "And he lives just over the mountains, in Selim."

"And this Rannet is going there now?"

"If not now, then eventually, yes. I'm afraid I do not share this skill of following where someone has already been, but the man has got to return there sooner or later."

Sallis accepted the logic of this and nodded.

"We can get some milas covered before dark," he said. "Time's running on."

***

Sallis rode wrapped in thought, ignoring the chatter between Gamal and Oston. They had rejoined the main road through the forest, but Sallis kept an eye open on their backtrail, worried lest this "second man" might put in an appearance. Who knew what a sorcerer might be capable of?

Too much failed to make sense, unless he accepted Sandev's version in its entirety, something he was very reluctant to do. Despite having something in common with them, Sallis doubted if he could ever fully trust any of the Gifted again. They had let him down.

First Elvallon, dropping him before he was old enough to fully understand why. The Gift might not have worked in precisely the manner his tutor had expected, and today he could understand Elvallon's shock, but it was still _the_ Gift. He had hardly told Elvallon to stick his gift and that he would instead turn to sorcery.

Yet he may as well have said exactly that.

Then there was Sandev. Oh, she had met him when he first came to Marka, but he suspected this meeting sprang more from curiosity than for any other reason. She had certainly never showed much interest in him since.

But she had passed on a warning that he had come to the Malefic Sephiroth's attention. He still doubted that she had his best interests at heart, though she must prefer to keep him on her side than see him go over to sorcery.

So even that motivation had proved selfish.

No, not proved. Only suspected.

Gamal looked over his shoulder. "You want us to ride on till darkness?" he asked. "Looks like a good place to doss down for the night over there." He nodded his head.

Sallis glanced across. "All right," he said, "but I keep first watch."

Gamal grinned. "Suspicious?"

"He's always suspicious," interrupted Oston. "And he always takes first watch."

Gamal shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Gamal had found a good spot for camping out. Large enough to accommodate a trading caravan, the three of them had plenty of space. They saw to the horses first: checking hooves and giving each animal a good rub down, before finding good patches of grass for them to graze on.

Oston built a small fire, while Gamal shared out dried meat he had brought with him.

"Rannet said he wasn't working alone," said Sallis. "How do we know that he and his companion aren't following us?"

Gamal shrugged. "We don't." He smiled around a mouthful of meat. "But there are three of us."

"Is there more than one way through this forest?" pressed Sallis.

Another shrug from Gamal. "Very likely lots of routes, known to woodcutters and poachers. Some may even be quicker."

"The moment you two bed down, we'll put the fire out," said Sallis.

"Suit yourself."

"I will." Sallis gave a half-smile. "I like living."

"Don't we all?" Gamal finished his cold meal quickly, found the best place for his bedroll, and settled down.

Oston glanced at him.

"You may as well grab some sleep too," said Sallis. "I'll wake you before midnight."

While Oston sorted his own bedroll, Sallis kicked earth over the fire, effectively killing it. That done, he spread out his own blankets before sitting on a rock to one side of their small camp, sword at his side and quarterstaff across his knees.

Dusk deepened to darkness, and a gentle snore came from Oston's bedroll.

Gamal spoke. "What will you do to Rannet, when you catch up with him?"

"You should be asleep," replied Sallis. "And you might wake Oston."

Another snore showed where Oston slumbered on.

"I'll sleep when I'm tired," said Gamal.

"When I catch Rannet, I'm going to kill him," said Sallis, voice flat.

"Motivated by revenge." Gamal sounded thoughtful.

"Yes."

"If I may say so, a selfish reason."

"Selfish?" Sallis almost raised his voice, but thought of the sleeping Oston. "He murdered a family."

"And no doubt he's murdered more than one." Gamal paused. "You believe you chase after their killer with some sort of principled justice as an excuse, but in reality you chase after him because you feel, in some small way, guilty."

" _What_?"

"Do you always chase after those who murder families and run them through with a sword?"

"Usually only when commissioned to," grunted Sallis.

"You've not been commissioned this time."

"This time is different. They were my friends and I planned to marry Pelim."

"Different yes," said Gamal keeping his voice low. "But this isn't about them because they are dead, and there is nothing you can do to restore them. Which means it's about you."

"No it isn't." Sallis turned his head to stare at the road, now all but indistinguishable from the trees.

"Of course it is. You weren't there to defend them. You feel guilt that you survive and they do not. You _know_ they were killed to trigger your reaction."

"Get some sleep," said Sallis, who hated that Gamal had hit a target. "It will be a long day tomorrow."

***

**Chapter 15 - Selim**

The road ahead began to zigzag uphill even before leaving the forest. When they finally broke free of the trees to emerge into brilliant sunshine, they stared up at a stony track meandering steeply uphill.

"You can never see any sign of the pass from below," growled Oston, in disgust.

"Best not to see how far you've got to go," replied Gamal, helpfully.

Sallis said nothing. He'd enjoyed little sleep, thanks to Gamal's unsettling conversation. He had never philosophized on his reasons for coming after Rannet. Most of his chases after criminals he could file under "justice", though he had never yet had to kill. This chase happened for precisely that reason; a genuine hunt with an intentional death at the end.

Were his justifications selfish? He'd certainly never considered it in that light before. The man had murdered for no good reason, Marka's City Guard had decided not to pursue the criminal who deserved to die, so Sallis had taken the task on himself.

Justice should not have to operate this way, but sometimes people had little choice, especially in lands with _no_ rule of law.

But who was he to decide which crime deserved death and which did not?

"It would be good to see," continued Oston. "It's not me doing all the work, but Hammer, and it's difficult to judge how easy to go on your horse when you can't see how far you need to travel."

Gamal laughed. "Then let Hammer set his own pace."

"Pah! We'd be here the rest of the year."

Gamal's attention turned to Sallis. "You're very quiet."

"I'm thinking," replied Sallis.

"Good." Gamal gave the younger man a warm smile. "Thinking nourishes the soul."

"Then his soul is overfed," said Oston, using his hat to fan his face. "Thought it got cooler the higher you went. The forest was better than this."

Gamal sniffed. "We won't even reach the snowline," he said. "But it'll be cooler on the far side."

"How do you know?"

Sallis sighed.

Gamal laughed at Oston. "Because we'll be east of the mountains and the sun will be past its meridian. We'll be in shade."

"Oh good."

They took a couple of rests as they climbed to the pass, trees giving way to sparse vegetation with a precarious roothold in the thin soil. Boulders surrounded the way up, and steep scree tumbled away down gullies.

The road followed a shoulder of the mountain and, when even the vegetation had faded to nothing, it contoured across to join the top of a gully.

"Water!" exclaimed Oston. "Hadn't we better stop for the horses' sake?"

"A quick rest," agreed Sallis, aware of Glyder's sweat almost lathering his flanks.

They dismounted and let the horses wander to the stream.

"What a view!" breathed Oston, looking north-west.

Mountain ridges strode away on either side of them, but they stared into the south-east corner of Marka's Outer Prefecture. The valley below, before it opened out into a plain, held the forest they had already ridden through. Haze blurred everything further away.

After a glance at the scenery, Sallis scanned the path below, looking for lone riders, or perhaps two in company. Much of the lower path was hidden behind the shoulder they had just ridden up themselves, so he could not relax completely.

So long as he stayed ahead, and so long as Gamal proved trustworthy. He couldn't decide precisely why Gamal made him so uneasy. Because he had bested him with sword versus quarterstaff? Because Sallis had needed rescuing after this Rannet had captured them?

Those, he knew, were selfish reasons.

He suspected that was the key. Selfishness. Gamal's philosophy seemed oddly familiar, even if Sallis hardly subscribed to it himself. He accepted his reasons for being here were hardly altruistic, but killing the man who had murdered his friends, who had murdered Pelim, _was_ justice. Rough to be sure, but justice.

The Gift did not lie. The man had left a piece of cloth behind and that had led Sallis straight to him. Rannet was guilty, so hardly a need to prove the case in a court of law.

Only... law courts existed for a reason. To prove guilt precisely, clear the innocent, to ensure the authorities followed _some_ sort of process before acting. The alternative, if everybody acted the same way as Sallis, would result in anarchy.

But. He had the Gift, and this talent had been granted for a reason.

Gamal was right: selfishness motivated him.

"Have you ever been this high before?" asked Gamal, coming to stand beside him.

Sallis shook his head. "Back home I liked to climb the hill behind our farm. I could see the sea from it and daydream about faraway places. This is higher, but no sea."

Gamal pointed almost due east. "Alderra and Trenvera are that way; a long, long way before you reach the sea." He then gestured south. "At the far end of Selim is Duning, part of the Trading Council's lands. Just as far to the sea that way too. I shudder to think of the distance if we went west and there are only frozen wastelands if you venture far enough north."

"You sound a well-traveled man," remarked Sallis, tone neutral.

"I've been about," confirmed Gamal. "Born in Trenvera, a proud and independent land. I've been a sailor and seen the Imperial Republic and most ports in between. I was pressed into military service in Sandester and served during the siege there a few years back. Seven years back; time passes quickly when we're not watching."

" _Pressed_ into military service?" Sallis turned his head and looked into Gamal's hazel eyes.

"You have to eat to live and sometimes you must steal to eat. Better than losing my hands."

"So you have a criminal past."

"Only through necessity," countered Gamal. "I paid them back heavily enough. I hope never to see another siege, unless I'm on the outside."

"That bad?" Sallis's voice held a hint of sadness.

"Terrible. You can learn a lot about human nature at such times. I can assure you, we are nothing more than animals once the veneer of civilization is stripped away. We are all selfish."

Sallis opened his mouth to say more, but Gamal abruptly turned away. "We'd better push on. It's hot enough now, but once that sun goes, it gets bloody cold up here."

It did not take very long to travel through the pass. The mountain ridge separating Marka's Outer Prefecture from Selim stretched to either side, but once Sallis noted a stream flowing the same way they traveled, he knew they would soon begin their descent.

The path through was clear to the eye and soon they stared down towards another forest.

"Selim," said Gamal, dramatically sweeping an arm from side to side. "The home of the Founding Mark."

"So this is where he came from," said Sallis, without even pausing Glyder's stride. "So why did he found Marka on the far side of the mountains?"

Gamal smiled. "Marka the City stood at the precise center of the small countries and statelets who had allied themselves with Mark. Of none, yet of all. The First Empire was built from that small beginning. Not even Selim was among those states."

"Which ones were?" asked Sallis.

"Their names and locations are remembered in the thanedoms that form both the Metropa and Outer Prefecture," said Oston.

"That was Marka's first empire?" Sallis laughed. "Not much bigger than Re Annan and you called it an _empire_?"

"Well, everybody has to begin somewhere." Oston sounded a touch defensive.

"When I get my farm, I'll call it the ti Ath Empire," chortled Sallis.

"It doesn't call itself an empire now," pointed out Gamal. "A man's idea of what an empire is has changed in the past seventeen hundred years. The second Markan Empire stretched from east coast to west coast, and swallowed where the Imperial Republic stands today."

Sallis sniffed and stared down at the forest. He could follow the path meandering downhill easily enough, and felt pleased it appeared to be a lot less steep than the one they had so recently climbed.

"We'd better get going," he said. "The forest will give us better shelter."

Gamal nodded. "It will that," he agreed.

"Is it home to many?"

"Not humans," said Gamal. "There is a colony of sylphs, related to those who live west of the mountains."

"No ilven," said Oston, with a mocking smile for Sallis.

Gamal blinked and stared at the guardsman. "No ilven," he agreed, wearing a thoughtful expression. "Not for some time, anyway."

"Let's get down there," decided Sallis, touching Glyder's flanks with his heels. "The sooner this is over, the better."

***

**Chapter 16 - Darkwood Forest**

"Darkwood Forest," said Gamal, as they plunged into near darkness.

Pine trees and fir hemmed in the narrow road. So little light reached the forest floor that only dead brown needles covered the ground. A bird fluttered from branch to branch, but in the absence of any wind, everything else remained eerily quiet.

"Worse than the other side," remarked Oston.

"It gets better lower down," promised Gamal. "The trees change and there is more light."

"Oak and ash," said Sallis. "Elm and beech. They all prefer lower altitudes."

"Yes, whatever," muttered Oston, who preferred stone and buildings.

"How large is the sylph colony?" asked Sallis.

"A pretty big one I'm told," replied Gamal. "Thinking of capturing some fresh breeding stock?"

Sallis managed a thin smile. "Hardly. But sylphs see things humans do not. And they are very good at keeping watch."

"Sadly for you, they usually stay well away from the road," said Gamal. "Sensible really."

"Why's that?" asked Oston.

"Harder to catch them that way." Gamal shrugged. "I know, I know; it's illegal. But stud farms are always begging for new bloodlines and you can't get fresher than wild sylph for our stocks. Though they do sometimes trade their infertiles."

"We were wondering about that," said Sallis, remembering his conversation with Oston. "But not their breeders. Is it true that young males travel between the colonies?"

"Some, to try and prevent inbreeding, but not all of them make it to their destination."

"Slavers." A small grimace turned Oston's mouth.

"They can make a fortune from wild sylphs," remarked Gamal. "Though I doubt many surrender their independence readily."

"How much further to Rannet's home?" Sallis decided to change the subject.

"We won't make it tonight," replied Gamal, "but perhaps tomorrow. Certainly the day after."

"You sure he's coming?"

Gamal shrugged. "Eventually. There's nobody else to look after it, so he has to return fairly regularly. And he'll know you've escaped; he can track as well as anybody else." He gave Sallis a sideways look. "Nearly anybody else."

Sallis nodded and fell into introspective silence.

***

As they descended, the nature of the forest changed. Trees grew taller and prouder, spreading leafy branches with plenty of gaps between. Grasses and wildflowers flourished on the ground, and pleasant moss marched up tree trunks and along ancient branches.

"Still called Darkwood?" asked Oston.

"It is," replied Gamal. "Few people live here. They fear it for some reason. Even the traders pass through quickly."

"It can't be too frightening, else no sylphs would live here," said Sallis. "By the way, that looks like a good place to stop."

Somebody had piled large stones to provide a windbreak, and a flat grassy area gave them plenty of room to spread out their bedding. A stream ran through one side and a firepit had been dug in the center.

"They've even left the turf to cover it over," said Oston.

"We'll need to find somewhere to get new provisions," announced Sallis. "I don't fancy hunting for my supper after tomorrow."

"We'll pass through a village when we leave the forest," promised Gamal. "They'll have provisions for sure; even traders need to replace their food regularly. And they don't have time for hunting, either."

"Sounds good."

After another cold meal, washed down with stream water, Sallis spent the time before dark giving Glyder a good brush down. He would take the first watch, as was his custom, and he wondered if Gamal might again hold him in conversation.

Sallis knew Glyder enjoyed his attentions, but he worked mostly so he could think. How far could he trust Gamal?

***

"You've been quiet all day," remarked Gamal, once Oston had settled down to sleep.

Sallis smiled to himself. He had more than half expected another chat from the man, and there must be a reason why he waited for Oston's snores before speaking.

"I am often quiet," he replied. "But I'm still more talkative than your average sylph."

"You've been thinking over what I said last night?" pressed Gamal.

"Yes."

"Do you accept that your motivations are selfish?"

Sallis thought he heard eagerness in Gamal's voice. _Pressing home_ , he thought. _What_ is _his game?_ Aloud, he said, "Not entirely. There must be a degree of selfishness in everything we do, but to argue that selfishness is _all_ cannot be right."

"Cannot?" Gamal chuckled. "An element of doubt from the sounds of it."

"You might say that a man eating food is selfish, but his body still must have that food for him to live. That's necessity, not selfishness."

"He needs the food to enable himself to live," countered Gamal. "Which in turn is about preservation of the self. Which is selfishness - what else could it possibly be?"

"It's reality," retorted Sallis. "We'll be going hungry until we reach this village you told us about, then we shall eat. We must eat to live. The kind of selfishness you talk about is an idea, abstracted from what we _must_ do, and converted into what we would _like_ to do."

"You would like to see Rannet dead. The thought can be as abstract as you want, but Rannet dead is a corpse in actuality. Argue all you like, but the reasons why _you_ want him dead are motivated purely through selfishness."

"So I'm now the villain of the story?" Sallis glanced up as a shooting star caught his attention.

"Only because you still insist selfishness is a bad thing."

The shooting star's moments of glory faded to darkness. "It's certainly not a good thing."

"It is a necessity, the same as food, or air, or somewhere to live. Without self, we are nothing more than animals."

"We're nothing more than animals anyway," snapped Sallis. "A higher form of animal perhaps, and certainly more inventive, but that is still what we are."

"But an animal with choice." Gamal's eyes gleamed in the starlight. "We can decide on where we live, we can vary our diet to live in so many different climates, and we can choose our gods."

"There is only the Father," interrupted Sallis.

"There are many gods."

"Go to sleep, Gamal," said Sallis. "Let me keep my watch in peace."

"Think on my words," said Gamal. "You have much to offer."

Sallis watched the other man until certain he was asleep, then sat back and stared into the night sky, watching for more shooting stars. Perhaps the Ark Star might put in an appearance.

And thinking, always thinking.

***

**Chapter 17 - Blackwood Halt**

The road ran right to Blackwood Halt, set perhaps eight milas beyond the forest. A huddle of houses hugged the road on both sides, surrounding rather more inns and taverns than the size of the place suggested could be supported by the people who lived here, together with several shops offering victuals to the trade.

Small children and a few infertile sylphs ran alongside them, shouting a welcome and begging for candies. Older men and women, too old for the fields, leaned on their porches and nodded to themselves, perhaps pleased to see visitors.

"All the caravans must come through here," said Gamal. "And it's the first place you reach after coming through the pass, not to mention two forests."

"Or the last place before you go through," remarked Oston.

Gamal nodded. "Just so. A good place to rest up."

"How much further to Rannet's place?" asked Sallis, single-mindedly.

"Too far to reach it before nightfall," replied Gamal. "I'd rather spend a night in relative comfort than lying on the ground, so we may as well spend it here."

Sallis looked about at the wooden buildings, gave a single disparaging sniff (aimed more at the idea of waiting than to show contempt for the village) and finally nodded.

"I'll leave you two to choose our lodgings," said Gamal, "while I see what we can get in the way of victuals."

Sallis sat on Glyder for a few moments longer while he watched Gamal saunter away.

"Be very careful here," he told Oston. "We're not among friends."

Oston looked around, smiling down at those clustering around Hammer. "They seem welcoming enough."

"It's not the villagers I'm worried about," replied Sallis, but refused to elaborate further. "Which inn grabs your fancy?"

***

The Broken Crown proved to be a clean and well-run establishment. Two human girls and five infertile sylphs waited on the customers, working under the close eye of the innkeeper, who introduced himself as Corran Myle. The tables, scrubbed almost white, had fresh candles, none of which were yet lit, and the benches boasted comfortable cushions. Fresh straw covered much of the flagstone floor and barrels of ale lined the far wall.

They had it to themselves.

"Seems very quiet, innkeeper," remarked Oston.

Corran smiled, his hazel eyes betraying inner laughter. "No caravans today," he replied, "and it's still too early for locals."

"Rooms for three," continued Oston, "and stabling for three."

"Lead your horses around the back and Don'll look after 'em," replied the innkeeper. "Two crowns, all in."

"Broken ones?" asked Oston.

The innkeeper gave a small smile, as if he had heard the joke thousands of times before.

Oston handed over a single gold crown and counted out twenty silvers. Sallis's expression suggested he felt two crowns was extortion, but passed no comment about the price.

"I'll lead the horses around," he said, leaving the inn.

He secured Hammer's reins to Glyder's saddle, then did the same for Sorrel, Gamal's chestnut mare. He then led Glyder around the side of the building and to the stable.

A dark-haired, dark-eyed man Sallis assumed must be Don, accepted the three animals without a word and helped Sallis strip the animals of their tack. Between them, they groomed and curried the animals. Sallis took care to use his own kit for Glyder, and Oston's kit for Hammer.

Don used his own brush on Sorrel, one that Sallis hoped had not been used on other horses. Then again, Sorrel was Gamal's problem.

Oston came out as they finished. Don took one look and busied himself cleaning and polishing tack.

"We've got a good room," he said. "Wash room attached too, _and_ a sylph to look after it while we're here."

For two gold crowns, Sallis hoped so, but only nodded in response. "Meals?" he asked.

"Corran's wife is preparing one for us now," replied Oston. "Pie and spring greens."

"Sounds good," replied Sallis. "Let's go and sample the ale while we wait for Gamal."

"Sounds even better," grinned Oston.

Gamal arrived while Oston drained his third tankard, though Sallis had barely touched his own. Sallis always preferred alovak to alcohol; one kept his wits sharp while the other dulled them.

And Sallis wanted his wits about him now.

"We have plenty of supplies," Gamal informed them. "Dried meats and preserved vegetables. We will take some with us in the morning, and the rest when we head back for Marka." He took a careful swallow of ale.

"The rooms are pretty good too," enthused Oston. "Our meal can't be far away now."

The innkeeper returned at that moment, carrying one plate and shepherding two infertile sylphs before him who were carrying the other meals. His eyes lit.

"Gamal! A pleasure to see you again."

Gamal smiled and nodded in reply, but seemed embarrassed, if anything, that he had been recognized at all.

"A regular traveler," remarked Sallis, voice expressionless.

"I get about." Gamal smiled. "How is Laureta?"

"Grumpy as always," replied Corran. "But her heart is in the right place."

"Pie smells nice," said Oston, detecting and trying to defuse the sudden tension.

"Steak and ale," said Corran, promptly.

"What else?" replied Oston.

Corran laid Gamal's meal down, the two sylphs following his example. The one serving Sallis gave him a startled look and her earpoints lay back in her hair.

Sallis smiled as he stared into the sylph's wide silver-gray eyes. "You are quite safe," he whispered to her.

Despite his words, she stayed well away from their table after serving the meal.

Gamal wore a secretive smile as he watched the interplay.

"Frightening sylphs is not rated among the pastimes of men," remarked Oston, speaking around a mouthful of pie.

"Not something I do deliberately," replied Sallis, a touch defensively.

"I'm told true adepts can mask their ability," said Gamal.

"And what do you know about it?" demanded Sallis.

Gamal laughed. "I travel a lot. I hear lots of things about lots of things."

"Not everything you hear is true," said Sallis. "And sylphs are sensitive about the Gift. Most of them."

"Not if you can mask the ability," said Gamal.

Oston waved his fork to catch attention. "I think we had better start planning how we're going to deal with Rannet. Where is his home?"

"He likes his privacy," replied Gamal. "He lives in a forest reputedly haunted, though perhaps that is claimed as a way to keep people out of his house when he is away."

"Who looks after it when he is gone?" asked Sallis.

"As far as I know, nobody. Rannet pretty much carries everything valuable he owns around with him. And his gold is secreted away in one of the many banks in the towns."

"Sensible of him," grunted Oston. "Far too many thieves about these days, and I doubt that the situation improves the further you get from Marka."

Gamal snorted. "Most crime is always found in cities," he retorted. "It comes of them being unnatural places for people to live. But a man who lives alone, and who is rarely at home... Let's just say there are few who could resist the temptation to take a look, eh?"

Sallis turned his head to stare at the serving sylphs, who soon moved away and stopped eavesdropping. There were advantages to frightening the blue-skinned creatures after all.

"We need to ensure Rannet doesn't cut ahead of us tonight," he said. "For all we know, he's followed us down the pass and might walk in here any moment now."

Gamal shrugged. "Perhaps. But if he gets this far, he'll carry on home."

"How much do you know about his home?" pressed Sallis. "Have you ever been there?"

Gamal leaned forward and began to tell everything he knew.

***

**Chapter 18 - Closing In**

"The trouble with me always getting the early morning watch," Oston grumbled, as the three of them picked their way upstairs later, "is that I always need to be in bed so bloody early."

"A good night's sleep for you tonight then," said Gamal. "And mine will be uninterrupted, for a change."

Sallis said nothing. As he usually took the first watch, he was not yet feeling at all sleepy. They had left the common room as locals had begun to enter, leaving the fields after a day's hard work. Gamal suggested retiring to their room and Sallis suspected the man had no wish to be identified.

There must be a reason.

Oston flourished the key and unlocked the door to their room.

Sallis stepped inside and grinned. Oston had not lied about the rooms. Uncovered light-crystals threw harsh light over the sitting room, which had plenty of chairs, a table and a deep rug that covered most of the floor. Doors led off to their rooms and, presumably, the washroom.

"Worth every copper," announced Oston, grinning.

An infertile sylph abruptly stood from where she had been waiting in one corner. Gamal drew breath in surprise and even Sallis turned his head sharply. He envied sylphs their ability to remain so still that they almost disappeared.

"Ah yes," continued Oston, waving a hand vaguely in the sylph's direction. "This is Ash. Rowan. Um... Hawthorn?"

The infertile's earpoints twitched in amusement. "Elm," she said.

Sallis saw she was tall for an infertile, and her eyes were a clear silver-gray, with no flecks of gold or brown to mar their polished appearance.

"Knew it was some bloody tree they named you after," grinned Oston.

"Yes." Sallis managed a smile. "Well thank you Elm, but we don't need your services tonight."

" _Se bata_." Elm began to settle down on the cushion in her corner.

"We don't even need you in the room," continued Sallis, holding the door wide. "Have a night off, go and enjoy yourself, whatever sylphs do here for enjoyment."

Elm's earpoints wilted and a hurt expression crossed her face. Offended, she stalked out from the room and Sallis closed the door behind her.

"What you do that for?" demanded Oston. "We've paid for her to be here."

"There's no need for her," replied Sallis, counting off on his fingers. "It's not like we're staying long."

Reaching a count of ten, he snatched the door open, but there was no sign of Elm or anyone else.

"Expecting company?" Gamal grinned.

"Eavesdroppers, yes." Sallis shut the door again and dropped the latch into place. "I'll take the first watch, as usual."

"We're standing _watches_?" demanded Oston. "We're in an inn, for Ranva's sake!"

"I intend staying alive until our business is concluded," said Sallis. He turned to Gamal. "You want an uninterrupted night. That's fine. I'll stay up later and wake Oston earlier."

"You will, will you?" grumbled Oston.

"I'll stand my watch," said Gamal, who sounded almost as offended as the sylph. "I seem to have thrown my lot in with you."

"So it seems," said Sallis.

He dropped his pannier in the corner Elm's cushion usually inhabited and propped his quarterstaff there. He kept his sword with him. "I'll wake you when it's time."

***

After a breakfast served to them in their room by Elm who gave Oston and Gamal warm smiles, but pretty much ignored Sallis, the bounty-hunter chivvied them downstairs and outside, where a still-silent Don was roused to help them leave the Broken Crown.

Oston understood Sallis's hurry and kept silent, though Gamal did suggest they had plenty of time.

"I want to reach Rannet's place and see if he's there yet," said Sallis. "If he is, I can get finished and go home. If he isn't, I intend to wait until he is."

The moment they were saddled, they left the inn, pausing only to collect their fresh victuals. Despite Gamal saying they could leave most until they were returning to Marka, Sallis insisted they took everything they had already paid for.

"We've got no idea how long we must wait," he said.

"Look, if you've followed Rannet this far, then we already know he's heading home," countered Gamal.

Sallis said nothing further to Gamal, but they left with all their victuals.

"Lead on, Gamal," said Sallis. "You know the way from here."

As Gamal on Sorrel led them out from Blackwood Halt, Oston maneuvered Hammer alongside Glyder.

"Are you all right?" asked Oston. "I've never seen you like this before."

"I'm fine," replied Sallis. "Just... readying myself."

"You scared the sylphs back at the inn," continued Oston. "You could have handled Elm a little better."

Sallis thought briefly of two dead sylphs back in Marka. "I handled Elm a lot better than Rannet handled Errim and Westin," he replied. "I want there to be no chance of him getting any warning we are coming. What if he calls in on his way home and all the talk among the sylphs is about our plans?"

"You don't trust the _sylphs_?"

"I don't trust their discretion," said Sallis. "They might not be among the most talkative of the Father's creatures, and they rarely betray anything of their owner's confidences, but the same doesn't hold for strangers. And if someone asks questions, sylphs tend to be truthful in their answers."

"You could still have handled it better."

"Right, I'll remember that for next time."

Oston sighed, and let Hammer fall back.

They did not need to travel far before Blackwood Halt fell behind. Gamal let Sorrel walk at an easy pace, before he turned off the main rutted road, following the line of a tumbled-down wall through the pasture. When they crested the hill, they looked down on a small version of Darkwood Forest.

Gamal halted and nodded towards the trees.

"He lives in there," he said.

***

Sallis suspected the forest had once been several coppices. Some of the trees boasted multiple trunks and were clumped together, with quite spacious gaps between the groups.

Gamal led them along a faint path, but soon turned off towards a stone outcrop.

"We'd better hide the horses here," he said, "and scout ahead to see if he's returned or not."

"Nearly there then," remarked Oston, cheerful as always.

Sallis said nothing.

Gamal led them around the far side of the outcrop, and to a cave all but hidden by trees and plants hanging down from above.

"An old quarry," he said, by way of explanation. "Whatever they built from the stone is long gone, as is the stone itself."

Sallis pushed his way in ahead of them, sword drawn, finding that the quarry didn't reach all that far back and, besides, was well lit and quite open. Even better, he found no signs of recent use.

"Hope Rannet doesn't stable his own horse here," said Sallis.

"No horse droppings," observed Oston, as Gamal shook his head.

"We'll risk it," said Sallis. He strapped his sword around his waist and hefted his newly acquired quarterstaff. Tight-lipped, Gamal regarded the wood with a hint of condescension.

They took some food as well, after hobbling the animals so none wandered off.

"We'll come back later to feed them if needs be," said Oston, giving Hammer a friendly pat.

Sallis said nothing, but followed Gamal as they returned to the path and fanned out, advancing steadily.

Birdsong filled the small forest, and insects flew past occasionally. As they neared another open space, Gamal slowed and stopped.

"Up ahead," he whispered.

Sallis moved forward for a better look.

Rannet's home looked better than he expected. Built from wood, with a stable attached, a single shuttered window and a door faced them. The wood looked like it had been treated with something, possibly oil, and the thatch looked almost new. Sallis felt a man such as Rannet would live in something that looked abandoned.

He clearly made a good living from his trade.

The door and shutters looked secure and no smoke rose into the sky from the single chimney.

"We could approach from the stable side for a closer look," whispered Gamal.

"I'm not getting caught out that way again," replied Sallis. "The man knows what he's about."

"If we come from this side, he'll see us for sure, if he's in."

"Let's see what's around the other side," said Sallis.

They crept through the trees, until they could see the far side of the wooden home. Another set of shutters and another single door. The stable doors were shut, which suggested nobody was at home, but Rannet might have hidden his own horse. He might even have hidden it in the stable. Part of the stables had firewood stacked up to the eaves.

Still no sign of anyone at home.

Sallis waited, in case the man was a heavy sleeper and wanted a long sleep. Such as after a ride through the night.

Nothing. No sound of a restless horse. No clatter of pans. No hint of a fire.

The stable side of the building, where there were no windows or doors, and no way of being seen from the house, offered the best approach.

But what if the man lurked in the forest, waiting for them? No, he believed himself safe. He had touched Sallis and broken the link the Gift bestowed.

"Oston."

Sallis kept his voice quiet, but the stout guardsman joined him in a moment.

"Approach from the stable. See if anything is in there. Then risk the window. See if you can get in, but be careful!"

"Give me a minute." Oston left, moving with surprising silence, given his bulk.

"Is this wise?" asked Gamal, moving to join Sallis.

"We must find out whether he's in or out," replied Sallis. "He knows Oston least."

He waited for a correction from Gamal, but the man said nothing.

Oston moved quickly across the open ground, reaching the side of the stable in moments. He paused there, listening for anything out of place. Sallis watched as the man turned the corner and deftly undid the latch securing the upper stable door. Oston let that swing open and paused again, giving anyone inside a chance to react.

Nothing.

Cautiously, Oston poked his head into the gloomy interior before opening the lower door and entering the stable, reappearing moments later. The guardsman shook his head at Sallis.

"Nobody in there at least," Sallis remarked to Gamal.

"He might have hidden his horse in the forest," replied the other man.

"If he's expecting company, and if he's wise," added Sallis.

Oston glanced at the woodstore, checking for concealed hiding places, and was clearly satisfied there were none. At this side of the house, he reached the door before the window and he paused there again.

"Here comes the real test," murmured Sallis.

Oston straightened, stood before the door and rapped smartly on it with his knuckles.

"What's he doing?" demanded Gamal.

"Even Rannet might have visitors now and then," replied Sallis. "A man alone is hardly a threat."

Whether or not Rannet waited within, nobody answered the door.

"After knocking on someone's door," continued Sallis, "the natural thing to do when there's no reply is to check the window."

"Many places consider that rude behavior," muttered Gamal, as Oston crossed to the window and peered through the shutters.

Oston returned to the door and tried to open it, but it stood firm against his tentative efforts. Moments later, he rejoined them.

"Saw nobody inside, though I couldn't see _everywhere_ ," he reported. "The house has got more than one room and an upstairs. No horses or domestic animals here, either."

Sallis nodded. "Then we wait," he said. "But do we wait out here, or inside? What's the lock like?"

Oston pursed his lips and shook his head. "For a man who is often away and who appears to live alone, there's nothing complicated about his locks."

"Obviously a man who can sort out intruders his own way," remarked Gamal.

Sallis reached a decision.

"We wait inside," he announced.

***

**Chapter 19 - Waiting**

Oston pulled a loose knot from the wooden door and used the tip of his dagger to lift the latch on the inside. He muttered something about "fools who don't use proper locks" as the door swung open.

"Lucky for you that knot was loose," said Gamal.

"Lucky nothing," retorted Oston. "It's an old peasant trick; just a shame the strawheads haven't moved on from three thousand years ago."

"We don't even have that on Re Annan," said Sallis, drawing his sword. "But then, you can't run far on a small island."

Sallis stepped inside.

"Not a lot to steal," said Gamal. "So why bother with locks?"

Thanks to the wooden shutters, a comfortable gloom had settled inside. Gamal had not lied. A wooden chair sat in one corner, before an open fire range that took up most of one gable wall. A solitary cushion rested on the chair, though there was also a three-legged wooden stool. A blackened kettle and a couple of pots sat on one side of the range, a small stack of wood and kindling on the other.

Sallis's boots scraped on the stone-flagged floor as he opened the door leading through to the second room, which looked like somewhere to store food. He glanced at the rickety wooden stair before he climbed into the eaves. There, he found a pile of blankets and nothing else.

"Not even a bed," he said, returning downstairs and sheathing his sword.

"Looks like our man doesn't stay here for long at a time," said Oston. "We need to work out how we're going to play this."

"We do. Oston, I'd rather you stayed outside and kept an eye on the approach path and the horses. Gamal, you watch the back and I'll keep the front covered."

"Signals?" asked Oston. "I can hardly run ahead of him to give warning."

"Bird calls?" suggested Gamal.

"I can do a duck," replied Oston, "but I don't think this is a suitable place for ducks."

"Follow him to the house," said Sallis. "We'll be watching and waiting anyway."

"You want me out there all bloody night too? While you two stay snug in here?"

Sallis forced a smile. "Dawn till dusk. I doubt if Rannet can see in the dark any better than us; if he can, his horse can't. We'll keep watches through the night, if he doesn't return today."

Gamal eyed the chair and stool as Oston left the thatched cottage.

"I'll bow to your greater age and let you have the chair," said Sallis. "I prefer to stand."

Needing no further urging, Gamal dragged the chair across to his window and relaxed into it, making sure it remained far enough back to be invisible to the casual observer outside. The shutters helped of course.

"I'm glad Oston's outside," he remarked, as Sallis took position beside the opposite window. "I've been wanting a word with you."

"I know," replied Sallis. "That's why I sent him out there."

"Your revenge is at hand," said Gamal, keeping his voice quiet. He didn't whisper, as that sound had a habit of carrying further than a low voice. "A quick death, or a slow one?"

"No idea."

Gamal snorted a laugh, immediately cutting it short. "A refreshing answer."

"Why are you so interested?" Sallis kept his own voice quiet.

"Because revenge, like selfishness, is among the basest of emotions, even if instinctive and natural. Born from love, it has life and motion of its own." Gamal's hazel eyes glittered in the gloom.

"It is also born from duty," Sallis pointed out.

Gamal nodded. "It is. But then the person carrying out the revenge acts on behalf of a third party. Not the case today, though."

"True." Sallis's attention returned to the window.

"So are you here today because you love those Rannet murdered, or to salvage some self-respect because you weren't there to protect them?"

Sallis kept his attention on the window and outside, but he blinked.

"Born from love, or from a sense of failure?" Gamal kept his tone gentle. "You're certainly not here because of duty, are you?"

"Possibly all three," replied Sallis.

"I wonder if you will be savage when you kill, or cold and clinical."

Sallis gritted his teeth. "I'll do what must be done."

"One thing to win a fight in a practice yard," said Gamal, "quite another to literally kill someone. You've never killed before."

"There's a first time for everything."

Gamal chuckled. "Indeed there is. Though nobody knows whether or not you have the fire for it. Don't say anything! Nobody knows until the moment is upon them. Nobody. We all know what we'd _like_ to believe, but the first kill is the hardest."

"Well, soon we'll find out," said Sallis.

His head shot around and he stared outside again. His heart began to pound in nervous anticipation and he shifted his grip on his sword.

He had heard the unmistakable sound of a horse's whinny. He soon heard hooves as someone led a horse up the narrow woodland path and towards the wooden cottage.

***

**Chapter 20 - Vengeance**

Sallis applauded Rannet's caution. He instantly recognized the shaggy mop of black hair and the squat body. The assassin moved out from Sallis's sight, though he left his horse to crop the fresh grass. Sallis knew the man would be moving around his house, looking for anything out of place.

The man thought he was good, but his first mistake had been approaching the house directly, instead of at an angle. Sallis leaned towards Gamal.

"Whichever of these doors opens, move to stand behind it, so you're out of sight when he comes in."

Gamal nodded to show he had understood.

Rannet returned to his horse and gathered the reins, leading it around to the stable. Sallis heard the stable door open, followed by silence as, he assumed, Rannet groomed his animal.

"Keep your eyes open!" Sallis cautioned Gamal. He kept watching the front, seeing no sign of Oston who, sensibly, kept his distance.

Gamal gestured towards his door, before moving away from the window, so he would stand behind it when it stood open. Sallis crossed the floor to join him.

But Rannet did not enter through that door. A moment's silence, then the front door opened and the assassin, framed by sunshine, stood where Sallis did not expect.

Rannet saw them both, and clearly recognized Sallis, but he concentrated first on the older man.

"Betrayer!" he yelled at Gamal, drawing his sword and striding across the room.

Sallis hoped the man was used to striking from the shadows, or unexpectedly, and rarely fought protracted battles. Whoever landed the first blow should win the fight. He brought his own sword to the ready and flowed to meet the assassin.

Rannet sneered and blocked Sallis's opening move, leaning forward as the blades locked.

"They want to turn you," he whispered.

"You murdered people I loved," hissed Sallis, "and that is the only reason I'm here."

"Kill him!" urged Gamal.

Sallis heard Gamal doing something with the door, but could not see what. He pushed away from Rannet and narrowly avoided falling over the stool. The swords flashed and locked again, the small room not allowing either fighter to move with full freedom.

Sallis had time to see Gamal cross the floor and bend the latch on the front door, effectively preventing anyone else from entering. Locking Oston outside, unless he managed to pry a way through the shutters.

"Kill him!" repeated Gamal, stepping clear of both men.

Sallis stepped forward, feinted one way, then spun his sword the other. Even caught in the confined space, Rannet kept both sides covered and Sallis was forced to try again.

The blades locked again as Rannet blocked another thrust and his sneer returned. Sallis increased the tempo, turning his sword best he could in the small room.

Rannet thought he spotted a weakness, leaned forward to exploit it, and exposed his right side. Sallis slid his sword into place, sheathing it in Rannet's torso.

The squat man's dark blue eyes blazed hatred and he lurched forward to reach Sallis, impaling himself further. But before he could do anything, the light left those eyes and Rannet fell backwards, Sallis's sword still jammed in place.

Sallis spun on his heel to face Gamal.

"Feel the release," whispered Gamal, hazel eyes glittering. "Isn't the vengeance so very, very sweet?"

"He called you 'betrayer'." Sallis's voice was quiet, emotionless.

Gamal smiled. "You have proved yourself. You can kill. Cold, detached... You've done it."

"You were working with him," continued Sallis. "You are with... them."

"Come and join us," invited Gamal. "The so-called benefic lot rejected you, pushed you aside. With us, you can be exactly what you were always meant to be."

"You planned all of this with him." Sallis jerked his head sideways, towards Rannet. "You are as responsible."

Gamal hefted his own sword which Sallis had not seen him draw.

"Join us," he said. "Join us, or die."

Sallis knew his sword was jammed in Rannet's body, probably caught on a bone, so he snatched up the quarterstaff. There had been little enough space to swing swords, and the staff would be even more difficult.

Gamal laughed. "Another stick," he sneered. "Always, you choose to crawl low instead of flying high."

"I fly high enough," replied Sallis, bringing his staff to the ready.

Gamal probed with his sword, turning the staff, meeting Sallis's thrusts, but maintaining a defensive posture, keeping his back to the wall. Staff and sword met, Sallis turning it away from any chopping blows, the way Gamal had destroyed his last quarterstaff.

He fought anger as well as the other man. Anger at Gamal, anger at the casual way in which his friends had been murdered, anger at himself for being taken in. Was he really so stupid?

Never again though. Never trust again. Never extend his emotions, never fall in love. Never grow close. Pain lay down that path.

Emotion led to danger.

Sallis turned aside Gamal's increasing thrusts and forced his emotions into a tiny ball in the back of his head. Sallis had fought Gamal before, on the practice field. Gamal was good. Gamal had defeated him.

But Sallis always learned from his mistakes.

He held his staff straight, knowing his opponent would seize the chance to cut through it again. Gamal raised his sword...

Sallis grasped the Gift, stepping forward, moving more quickly through time. The staff cracked against Gamal's left kneecap and, before the other man could react, Sallis raised his staff and jabbed him in the throat.

Time returned to normal for Sallis as he released the Gift. Gamal dropped his sword, hands going to his ruined throat, scrabbling at it, fighting for air. He tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound escaped.

"I will never turn," said Sallis. Temptation to stand back and watch Gamal die beckoned, but Sallis knew he could not leave the man to suffer. He leaned forward again, his hand touching Gamal's chin gently. "You thought I had the gift of healing," he whispered, "but this is what happens when I heal."

He opened himself to the Gift, wove it as if he intended to Heal, then touched Gamal with it. The man's eyes opened, then the light left them and he lay limp.

Sallis felt soiled. He had used the Gift to kill.

Now it was over, Sallis finally freed his sword from Rannet's corpse, and opened the front door to Oston's insistent banging.

"Well?" demanded Oston.

"Vengeance is mine," said Sallis.

Then shock set in, sudden shudders running through Sallis's body.

"You'd better lie down for a bit," said Oston.

***

**Chapter 21 - New Beginning**

"You stay there and rest!" Oston called from where he worked inside Rannet's house.

Sallis wanted to say he felt much better, now that the shakes had passed and he'd recovered from his shock. Yet he felt quite comfortable on the springy turf, with the sun warming him, dappling through the oak leaves.

And watching Oston work was a sight better than working himself.

Oston had brought all the wood from the store into the cottage, building a pyre around the two bodies, stuffing kindling into every gap he could find. He piled everything in there: blankets, bedding, wood, lantern oil...

Four horses, tethered to keep them away from the building, grazed the grass surrounding them. Sallis didn't know Rannet's horse's name, but the chestnut gelding looked happy enough with the other three.

Finally satisfied, Oston crossed the ground to join Sallis.

"I'll use your firebow," said the solid guardsman. "It's quicker than mine."

"Whatever you like. Look, I'm fine now. Very all right."

Oston gave him a critical look. "How did you know Gamal worked with Rannet?"

"Apart from him trying to turn me every evening after you'd gone to sleep? He knew Rannet, knew where he lived, pretty much knew what he did for a living. Do _you_ believe in coincidence?"

Oston shook his head. "Feel better now you've had your vengeance? Satisfied?"

"No," replied Sallis. "On that score I feel no different."

"Good. Long may that feeling continue."

Sallis changed the subject. "There's a third man involved."

Oston sighed. "I think you've caught up with all those you're going to. What makes you think there's someone else?"

"Gamal joined us from behind," said Sallis. "Yet someone had tidied the place where Rannet held us. I had nothing to follow from there. And though Rannet recognized Gamal, he was not the second man he waited for."

"You might be wrong," said Oston. "We have no proof Gamal followed us. For all we know he left Marka before we did."

"It's possible, but I don't think so." Sallis smiled, albeit weakly. "He followed because he was meant to make certain we found Rannet. Rather than run into him. They wanted to use my frustration at losing Rannet's trail to help them turn me."

Oston grunted.

Sallis shook his head. "Why don't I feel any different?" He gestured towards the cottage. "I feel nothing for them, but surely there should be some sort of closure now?"

Oston looked suitably sympathetic. "I'm sorry, but only time will grant you any closure. And maybe not even then."

Sallis grimaced. "People like us shouldn't have families, adopted or otherwise. Far too painful when it goes wrong."

"Are you recovered enough to ride?" asked Oston.

Sallis nodded.

"Pass me your firebow and we'll get done here."

Sallis looked back at the building. "Then we can go home," he said.

"Re Annan?" asked Oston.

"No," replied Sallis. "Marka."

***

Endpiece

He watched and waited. His man had failed, as he had half expected. He knew from long, bitter experience that, unless caught very early, the Gifted were difficult to turn. The younger they were the easier the task, and the less experience they had the better.

This failure did not matter. The reason for Siranva granting the gifts he did remained unclear. The boy had grown tougher now, yet also more brittle. He had learned to bury his emotions deep, something that could cause as many problems as the extreme emotion he had hoped to trigger and nurture.

But an emotionless Gifted could be as dangerous as one already turned. He still had time to turn this boy.

He had time, all of time.

***

***

The End of **Gifted Avenger**.

**Nicholas A. Rose** is the author of the Ilvenworld novels. He enjoys everything to do with the sea, the outdoors and the mountains, which he finds inspirational. Nicholas also enjoys the rather more sedentary pastimes of chess, reading, real ale and, of course, writing.

Also by Nicholas A. Rose on Smashwords.com:

More Sallis ti Ath Novellas:

Gifted Apprentice

Gifted Hunter

Markan Empire Trilogy (full-length novels):

Markan Throne

Markan Empire

Markan Sword

