

## Brotherhood of the Throne

## Book 1

## Thief

## Jane Glatt

Copyright © 2012 Roberta Jane Glatt

Jane Glatt Enterprises Inc.

www.Janeglatt.com

ISBN 978-0-9880291-3-2

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved worldwide under the Berne Convention. No part of this document or the related files may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

one

Her mother would be furious but she climbed up onto the roof anyway. Tomorrow was her sixteenth nameday and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it from coming. But she wasn't sixteen yet so she was going to enjoy her last night of childhood, her last night of freedom, the last night she could do as she pleased. She was going to the one spot in her world where she felt completely safe.

Brenna hunched over as she scrambled across the cold slate tiles. The biting wind whipped mountain snow across the roof. She paused to blow on her hands in an effort to keep them warm and supple. She'd made this climb at least once a week since she was eight and she knew which shingles were loose, knew where the pigeons roosted, knew where lamplight shone when the Duke and his household were awake in the night. Like now.

She shielded her eyes against the glare from the window and watched, grateful for her ability to see well in the dark, a trait she shared with her mother. After a few minutes of nothing but night Brenna eased across the patch of light. When she was in the shadow below the window she breathed out once, a dim cloud in the cold air.

"Brenna."

She whirled and reached one hand out towards the voice. Her hand closed tightly on an arm and she wrenched it against her chest. Her other hand wrapped over a mouth and clamped down and she pulled the smaller body up against her, the head chin height.

"I told you to stay inside tonight brat," Brenna hissed. She removed her hand from his mouth.

"But it's your last night."

"And I told you to stay inside." Brenna released her grip and sighed. "Beldyn this is the one night when he'll be much harder on you than me if we're caught." She turned him around until she could peer down into his eyes. "Brat you know he needs me whole and sound for tomorrow. He'd take it all out on you."

"I don't care." Beldyn leaned into her and she ruffled his hair, her hand gliding from his head to the back of his finely knit wool tunic.

"But I do. That stubborn streak will get you into trouble," Brenna said. She shook her head, recognizing her mother's words, her mother's fears. "And how many times do I have to say good bye to you? Time for you to go back to your rooms."

"I don't want you to leave." Beldyn stepped back from her and she saw the glint of tears. "He's the one I want to leave."

"You know that won't happen. He's the Duke and this estate belongs to him." By right of legitimate birth, Brenna thought, and she pushed the old anger back down, hard. "Besides, you'll forget all about me in a few weeks."

"You know I won't." Beldyn looked up at her and she was surprised by the fierceness in his face. "You've been my only friend. You've treated me better than my own mother."

"She has her own demons to deal with," Brenna said. Even after all she'd seen and heard she was unwilling to demean the mother in front of the son.

"And I'm on my own now. At least I always had you."

"We both know I'm not leaving because I want to."

"I know. It's him. He did this. I wish he were dead."

And Brenna, shocked at the hatred she heard in the boy's voice, grabbed Beldyn's shoulders and pulled him to face her.

"Brat you can't let him make you mean, do you hear me? If you do you'll be just like him. And where would that leave me?" She heard the desperation in her voice and stopped, trying to settle the knot in her stomach. "You're my hope, brat. I need you to look out for my mother. And when you're older and he is dead I need you to come find me. That's what we talked about - my safe place for your promise to find me when he's gone."

"I remember," Beldyn said.

His head rubbed against her shoulder as he nodded into the cloth of her coat.

"I won't ever forget Brenna."

"Good. I need you to survive him, Beldyn. For both of us." Brenna straightened up and ruffled his hair again. "Time to get back inside before anyone notices you're missing."

Beldyn nodded and turned back toward the window. He reached up to the ledge and jumped. His hands gripped tightly while his foot found the toe hold Brenna had gouged into the stone years ago. When he pulled himself up to sit on the window ledge she nodded, satisfied.

"Are you going up there now?" Beldyn asked. "To the safe place?"

"Yes. It seemed like the best place to spend my last night."

"I'll miss you Brenna. May the One-God keep you." And then the boy slipped into the darkened room.

Brenna, alone on the cold rooftop, murmured prayers to her own gods, the old gods, into the icy wind. She tucked her hair behind her ear and blew on her hands, once, twice, before she moved on.

A few short minutes later Brenna folded herself into the gap between two stone blocks. The old blanket was where she'd left it, some straw still tucked under it, saved somehow from the fierce winds that blew down from the mountains. Brenna piled the straw and sat down before she pulled the blanket up and over her head. She wished for better made clothing, like the fine wool Beldyn wore rather than coarse, heavy cotton. Then she was settled and out of the wind and her physical discomfort faded in the face of her fear of what the morning would bring. A morning that would see her sent away from the only life she had ever known, away from her mother, the only person who truly loved her. All because of the circumstances of her birth, all because she was the illegitimate child of an indentured servant.

Brenna looked directly out across the rooftop to the large window in front of her. An overhanging gable kept her position completely in the shadows yet allowed her a clear view of the room and its occupant. Tonight, as always, the room was lit with so many lamps and candles that she could see straight through to the door at the far end of the room. Just for a moment, her heart raced and she felt the panic start. Then she saw him and she calmed, her eyes fixed on the figure seated by the fire.

Her safe place was a cold perch on top of a roof. But it was safe because she could see him, she knew were he was. Safe because when he was in there and she was out here, he couldn't reach her. Now it would become Beldyn's safe place, where he too could be safe from Duke Thorold, where he too could be out of his reach - at least for a few moments.

She started awake and was half standing before she remembered where she was. A quick look showed her only a dim glow in the dark squares of the Duke's windows. Brenna sat back down and pulled the blanket even tighter across her shoulders. She should go down now while she had the chance, she knew. Her mother would be looking for her on this, her last night.

But she stayed were she was because it was after midnight and she was sixteen now, by law a woman full grown. But there would be no celebration for her nameday; she would see no pride in her mother's eyes today. No, Brenna would see only fear and sadness and worry when she looked at her mother for what might be the very last time in her life. So it had been for her mother when she turned sixteen and had been sold into Duke Thorold's household, so it would be for Brenna as she was sold into servitude.

Reaching into her pocket, fingers clumsy with cold, Brenna searched until she found the small pouch she kept her herbs in. She pulled it out and loosened the leather thongs. She needed to stay awake now with dawn so close. Her hand closed on the knobby ginseng root and she pulled it out and took a bite, feeling the sharp tang on her tongue. She retied the pouch and shoved it back in her pocket, waiting for the ginseng to take away the worst of her weariness.

Brenna tracked the time not by the stars as they moved across the sky, nor by any brightening of the winter sky. She tracked the time by the glow of firelight coming from Duke Thorold's bedchamber window. When the glow increased she knew the servants had come to start the Duke's day. Carefully she stood and stretched her cold, stiff muscles. Then she folded the blanket and tucked it back into the niche. With an eye on the windows above her she brushed straw off her black breeches and backed away down the roof. In less than fifteen minutes she was back on the roof of the stable. She inched herself over the eave towards the window of the small loft she shared with her mother. She toed open the shutter, planted her feet on the window sill, and swung down.

"Brenna, there you are."

Brenna crouched in the window frame then jumped softly to the floor. "I've been seeing my nameday in, Mama."

"I can see that. Here," Wynne Trewen took the blanket from her shoulders. "I've been sitting by the fire, I'm warm enough."

"Thanks Mama," Brenna said as she wrapped the blanket around her. She breathed in deeply, savouring the smell of wood smoke layered over top of the scent of her mother, spicy and sweet with the lingering odours of the many herbs she used in her work as a healer.

"I thought you'd be angry with me," Brenna said. She huddled down on the floor next to the small fire. She looked up when her mother took the single stool across from her and her chest tightened when she saw the sadness on her mother's face.

"I thought I would be too." Wynne shook her head. "But you are a woman grown now and you must do what's right for you. Although I had hoped ..."

"I told you I wouldn't run away," Brenna said, angry now. "Not and leave you here to take the blame. He'd kill you!"

"Quite likely."

Brenna squeezed her eyes shut at the pain and sadness and grief in her mother's words.

"But you would be away from here, you would have a chance at a better life. It would be worth it to me."

"But not to me! How could I leave knowing that it would cause your death?"

"But it wouldn't be you who killed me, remember that." Her mother's voice was little more than a whisper. But it was an old argument, one that her mother knew she would never win.

"Mama I told you about Beldyn's promise to me. He will do it. He will."

"Yes. The promise of a ten year old boy who has been terrorized more than you could possibly know."

Brenna opened her mouth to reply but her mother's sad smile stopped her.

"I know that Beldyn means what he says, daughter. But it's many years until he is a man and with that father who knows what kind of man Beldyn will become?"

Brenna dropped her head to her knees and let her long hair fall over her eyes, hoping to shield her tears from her mother. Beldyn had to survive, he had to come find her, he had to. She couldn't let go of that faint hope because without it she had none.

"I'm sure he will do as he says," Wynne said gently. "Now, let's go over the prayers and passages that my mother taught to me. There is little enough of her that I can pass along, so I need you to remember. After that we'll go down to the workshop and make sure you have all the herbs you'll need. Cook's son hears that the lady of the house you're going to is heavy with child and ill with it."

Brenna sighed. She straightened up and shrugged the kinks out of her shoulders. "Let's start with the one for my eyes," she said. "That's the one I need the most." And she wondered, as she did every time she said the short prayer, why it was her grandmother had taught her mother this particular prayer when her mother clearly had no need of it.

"You mustn't forget to say it Brenna, every morning." Wynne gripped her arm hard and Brenna nodded. "And remember not to let anyone hear you."

"I know, the old gods aren't welcome everywhere."

"Nor are witches."

"But we're not witches."

"There are those who would call us that because we know the ways of healing."

"And because of my eyes," Brenna added. Not for the first time she wished she'd been born with her mother's eyes - two clear blue eyes filled with kindness and intelligence.

"Yes, because of your eyes," Wynne agreed. "Say the prayer now; I can see a little green showing in your eye already."

"Wise Ush," Brenna began her voice a low whisper. "Let all see what is not. Two brown eyes and no trace of one green."

"Good," Wynne peered at Brenna's eyes again. "They're both the same brown now. Finish with the other passage and meet me in the workroom. I have a present for you."

As she watched her mother climb down the ladder to the stable below Brenna quickly started to mumble the second phrase. "Brothers by the throne ..." The words came automatically, with no sense to them that she could make out. Her mother claimed no more understanding of it than she had, but said her mother, Brenna's grandmother, had insisted she learn it and pass it down to her children. Brenna had not heard her mother speak the phrase for years - she claimed she could no longer form the words – but she knew them well enough to know when Brenna had made a mistake. Wynne had schooled Brenna harder in the two prayers than she had in the arts of healing. And she'd been a firm taskmaster for that.

Brenna put her one dress into her pack and slung it over her shoulder. She was still in the dark tunic and breeches she'd worn on the roof and she saw no reason to change. She wanted her new owner to see her as a youth, a non-woman whose only value was her healing skills. She hoped not to share the fate of her mother - forced into the bed of her lord and master. It was a faint hope she knew. Duke Thorold's glances at her told her he had noticed her passage into womanhood. No doubt the only thing stopping him from taking her to bed was his belief that he had sired her.

Brenna stepped out over the edge of the loft and placed her foot on the ladder rung. This was the last time she'd ever do that here, she thought sadly. Likely the last time she'd share a space with her mother. She paused for a moment then spied the blanket she'd discarded by the fire, the one that smelled so much of her mother. She stepped back onto the loft floor, scooped up the blanket and tucked it into her pack. She hoped Mama wouldn't mind, hoped she wasn't consigning her mother to months of cold, but she needed to take her smell with her, needed to wrap herself in her mother's essence.

"Where's the whelp? She was to be ready at dawn."

Brenna froze at the sound of the duke's voice booming in the quiet of the stable. She couldn't hear what her mother said in reply but she recognized the soft tone, the slow cadence designed to placate and calm. She'd heard her mother speak to Duke Thorold in that same manner countless times.

"I don't care that this is your last day together, witch. She's not yours and has never been yours, as you'll both truly know after today. Now where is she?"

"I'm sorry my Lord Duke. I'm coming." Brenna tried to keep her voice steady as she hurried to the ladder and took the steps two at a time.

When she reached the floor of the stable she hefted her bag onto her shoulder. Then she turned towards the door to the workroom. Duke Thorold's bulk filled the doorway, the fine rich silks and furs no doubt keeping him warm despite the cold air.

He took a step toward her, his glare making her duck her head, but after a moment she lifted her head and met his eyes. She knew it would enrage him but she hoped it deflected the Duke's anger from her mother to her, gambling that he wanted to hand her over to her new master unmarked.

"You insolent child," Duke Thorold took another step toward her and still Brenna held his gaze. "How dare you taunt me?"

Brenna could see her mother's worried face behind him, her head shaking no as she looked on.

Finally Brenna lowered her head. It would help neither of them if she pushed Thorold into a rage. "I'm sorry my Lord Duke, I thought you might want to confirm that I am free of blemishes or marks."

Duke Thorold took one more threatening step and Brenna saw Wynne slide out behind him.

"I apologize as well my Lord," Wynne said as she dropped into a low bow. "It was I who delayed Brenna's parting. I have one more thing to give to her but I needed to fetch it from the workroom."

"And what is it you wish to give her?"

"Just my work knife, my Lord," and as Brenna watched Wynne held up her sheathed knife to the Duke. "It was my own mother's gift to me before I came here."

"Your knife." Thorold snatched it out of her hand and drew the blade. "Since I own you, anything you own is mine."

"But it was my mother's. The only thing of hers that I have." Wynne's voice was so quiet Brenna could barely hear her, but she saw her mother's back sag as her head dipped lower.

"This is a very fine knife, witch," Thorold said. He ignored Wynne's bent form as he held the blade up to the torch light. "You should have given it to me long ago. I shall punish you for that, my dear."

"No!" Brenna hadn't meant to speak it out loud, hadn't meant to give that single word so much force, but as Duke Thorold drew himself to his full height and turned all his attention to her Brenna breathed in, almost in relief. She slipped her bag off her shoulder and let it fall to the dusty stable floor. Then she looked him straight in the eye.

He would kill her. She knew it by the anger she saw fill his eyes, the cold smirk he wore as he stepped over her mother, who had sunk to the ground, eyes round with fear.

"No my Lord, please no," Wynne sobbed and clutched at his leg as he moved past her. Thorold shook his foot free and then kicked out, the toughened leather of his boot thudding against Wynne's shoulder and spinning her backwards to land hard against the door frame.

"Leave my mother alone!" Brenna shouted, her fear burned away by her rage.

"And what will you do about it?" Thorold stopped three steps from her and laughed. "She's mine, as are you. I could kill you both and no one would care."

"You'd kill your own flesh and blood?"

"My dear wife has been insisting I get rid of you for years. I don't think she much cares how I do it." He held up the knife, her mother's knife, so it flashed in the torch light. "I think this will work nicely, don't you?"

Despite her fear, despite the clammy sweat she felt trickle between her breasts, Brenna stayed where she was, head up, eyes on him as he took one step, then another, towards her. Now he was close enough that one long-armed swipe with the knife would open her throat, but still she didn't move, didn't drop her gaze from his. If he was going to kill her she wanted him to remember the anger and hatred in her eyes, wanted the way she died, without fear of him, to taunt him always.

"Ah such a brave child. Such a foolish, brave child," Thorold said. "Too foolish to realize that there are so many ways to create fear." And then he quickly stepped back and grabbed Wynne by the arm and yanked her up.

"No!" Brenna reached forward and her hand brushed her mother's arm for just a second before Thorold wrenched Wynne away.

Holding her against his chest, he backed up into the doorway of the workroom. After a brief flash of panic, Wynne Trewen stopped struggling and lifted her head.

"Good," Thorold said as she quieted, unaware of the determination on his captive's face. He smirked at Brenna. "I see the fear in your eyes at last. I was going to let your mother watch you die but now I see it will be much better this way." Then he reached around and placed the knife against her mother's throat.

"Run Brenna," Wynne Trewen said, her last words ever before the knife bit into her neck. With a cry Brenna lurched forward as blood fountained from her mother's throat. Thorold yelled and stumbled backward into the workroom. He let go of her mother, who slumped to the floor, then he tripped and sprawled beside the old worktable.

"Mama, don't die." Brenna dropped to the ground beside her mother. She grabbed her mother's shawl and pressed it against the wound, trying to stanch the blood even as the healer in her recognized that it was too late - her mother was already dead. Brenna gently wiped the blood from her mother's face and laid the soaked shawl across the spreading stain, covering the gaping wound in her throat. Her head bent, a great sob lodged in her chest and tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and looked up. The Duke's prone form lay on the hard packed dirt, her mother's bloody knife a few feet from his hand.

"I'll make you pay for this," Brenna said. She staggered to her feet and took one unsteady step towards the Duke. Even as she wondered why he was on the ground, why he was so far away from his victim, he sat up, eyes dazed, and reached wildly for her mother's knife. His fist closed on it and Brenna stopped. Knife held towards her, he got to his knees.

Brenna's chest heaved with grief and pain and hatred. As much as she wanted to hurt Duke Thorold, she knew she was no match for him physically. And her mother had told her to run, had sacrificed her life so that Brenna had this chance. She must take it, must make her mother's death have some meaning.

"Guards!" Thorold's voice was as a croak. He lurched to his feet, blade pointed at her.

She couldn't retrieve her mother's knife. Not now.

"I will make you pay," Brenna said as she backed away from him. "Someday."

With a quick look behind her she stooped to pick up her pack. She took a deep breath and looked at her mother's face, relaxed and peaceful in death, before she turned and headed for the loft. She'd go out the window and across the roof to the woods. The dogs would have a hard time picking up her scent if she stayed high until she was into deeper snow. Then she'd head to Kingsreach and away from Duke Thorold's lands. It was the largest city in Soule and she was good at hiding. Thorold's men wouldn't find her there.

two

Brenna slipped in through the window, careful not to open one of the shutters too widely. She'd spent the better part of two days assessing the inn and knew that the leather hinge on the left-hand shutter was weak and caused the wood to scrape the windowsill. It was less than three hours before dawn and any noise would sound loud in the quiet night.

From the window ledge she carefully eased one soft-soled foot after the other onto the floor. She took a quick look back at the courtyard. The stables sat silent, doors shut tightly against the cool, spring air. A weak light spilled into the night below where the kitchen backed out onto the courtyard. No doubt the baker was getting bread ready for early travelers. She saw no sign of the inn guards – good, she'd not been noticed.

She gently nudged the shutters back in place, careful to make sure they were in the same position she'd found them. The guards employed by better inns, such as this one, were former Kingsguard. They were well trained and observant. But so was she. Brenna had never been caught in her six years as a thief.

She listened to the steady breathing of the room's single occupant and slowly matched her own breathing to his as her eyes adjusted to the near darkness.

The room was on the second floor - one of the middle rooms - so there was only the one window that faced north. The narrow bed was pushed up against the east wall and a small dresser topped with a washbasin was wedged between the bed and the door.

To her right was a small chair laden with what smelled like well-worn clothes. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. So much for priests being closer to the One-God than the rest of us - the man's clothing smelled like a mule wet down with cheap wine.

The room's occupant had left his pack leaning against the door, a country trick to try to foil anyone bent on opening the door. Brenna gave a silent snort of derision. Someone in the hall could snatch the bag and be gone with it in two breaths.

Nothing in the room looked out of place so she focused on the sleeper. It seemed her information about this priest was correct and he'd overindulged in drink, as was his habit. His breath smelled sour and an empty bottle lay on the floor by his bed. A cup with a few drops of dark liquid still clinging to it stood on the washstand.

She silently padded over to the bed. By the throne! The priest was sleeping with one hand curled around the object she'd come to collect. He must be very determined to make this delivery to the High Bishop. But why was the High Bishop was collecting this for Duke Thorold of Comack?

In the six years since she'd fled to Kingsreach she'd been prying into the duke and his affairs and according to her information he'd been quietly collecting similar weapons for a while. She had yet to figure out how to make him pay for her mother's death, but she would, one day. For now, she stole goods destined for him. It was only a minor irritant for the duke, but Brenna had a secret satisfaction knowing he'd be furious if he learned that she was responsible.

Eryl's description of the object was accurate, as always. She could clearly see the cracked red leather of the scabbard and the shine - pure gold, according to Eryl - of the knife hilt. On the crosspiece two red rubies winked dimly even in the dark room. Something about the knife felt old, ancient even, which Eryl had not mentioned. She briefly wondered if the other weapons Duke Thorold had collected were old as well. It was something to think about later, after she'd stolen this one.

Brenna stood still and breathed softly in concert with the sleeping priest. She had only another hour or so before the pre-dawn sky lightened. She had to find a way to get the knife without disturbing the sleeper.

The priest snorted softly and Brenna rocked back on her heels until he resettled himself. Her luck was holding – the slight shift of the sleeper had moved his grip from the knife hilt to the scabbard. She should be able to slide the knife out without waking the priest. She might lose some of her commission but that was a small price to pay for successful retrieval of the knife. Let Duke Thorold have the scabbard.

After another silent twenty minutes without any movements by the sleeping priest, Brenna reached out to grasp the hilt of the knife.

A shock of warmth ran up her arm and the hilt under her hand started to glow with a clear, white light. Startled, Brenna stumbled back, but instead of letting go of the knife she pulled the cursed thing from its scabbard. Eyes wide she raised the blade, which now shone brightly enough to illuminate the room. There was a muffled gasp and she turned and met the terror-filled eyes of the priest.

Brenna recovered first. She dropped the knife to floor and immediately the room plunged back into darkness. She swore at herself for losing her composure, but how could she have known what would happen when the knife was out of its scabbard? She carefully backed away, feeling her way in the dark room. The window must be right behind her now.

"Guard! Guard!!" The priest had recovered enough wits to sound an alarm. "Help!"

Brenna heard the rustle of cloth as he got out of bed.

Eyes not quite adjusted to the dark after the blinding glow of the knife, Brenna fumbled the shutters open, wincing as one shutter scraped loudly along the wood. Brothers! She was making too much noise!

With a quick prayer to Jik for protection she peered out over the courtyard. No sign of any guards there but she could hear loud steps coming up the stairs. She glanced back to find the priest struggling to move his pack and open the door. One final look and her stomach tightened - a single guard blocked the light that spilled in from the hallway. That meant the other two were somewhere else. Brenna slipped onto the sill, crouched, and reached to grab the roof ledge.

A hand grasped her right wrist, painfully.

"Got him!"

She was hauled up and onto the roof and then dumped at the feet of one of the inn guards.

Brenna swore under her breath as she looked up at the scowling guard. She hoped Eryl would honor their deal and buy her bond.

Kane shifted his weight and listened as Thomas Valden, the High Bishop of the Church of the One-God, petitioned King Mattias. The king slouched on an ornate chair, his gold shirt and deep blue vest only serving to emphasize the sickly yellow pallor of his skin. Brown hair and beard trimmed short, he leaned his chin on one pale hand. Even though it was still the early part of the day, his watery blue eyes were half closed with weariness.

The High Bishop, resplendent in a black silk robe trimmed in silver, sat with balled fists resting on the table in the king's council chamber.

The council chamber was a relatively small room situated behind the great hall. The king faced his councilors across a round oak table polished by years of sweaty hands and diligent housekeepers. Kane, as always, stood between the King and his councilors, his back straight and his face impassive.

"We must ensure the safety of my priests, Your Majesty." Valden said. His fist pounded softly on the smooth wood of the table to emphasize his point. The man's short graying hair was slick with sweat where it escaped his red silk skullcap and his lips were pinched together in a scowl.

"I agree with the High Bishop," said Duke Thorold. As the head of one of the three duchies, he along with the High Bishop and Kane, who was Captain of the Kingsguard, made up the King's Council.

"I think we all agree that we must ensure the safety of all of my subjects, including your priests," King Mattias said.

The High Bishop flushed red at the king's words, then quickly looked down at the table. His back rose and fell with rapid breaths and Kane wondered if the man was finally going to lose all control and go too far. Duke Thorold leaned over and whispered into the High Bishop's ear and the man nodded and relaxed his hands.

Kane relaxed and unclenched his hand. He and his Kingsguard were the only ones allowed to wear weapons in the presence of the king, and part of him wanted an excuse to draw his sword on the High Bishop. He professed to be a man of peace but Kane had heard rumours to the contrary. Businesses threatened with boycotts unless they did what the church wanted, families forced to give over their homes in order to obtain salvation. The church denied everything, and often those wronged were either too cowed or too controlled to protest.

Then there were the High Bishop's ongoing attempts to have the King declare his priests legally superior to the common folk they ministered to. The High Bishop felt that the priests' dedication and service to the One-God should translate into special privileges and rights. Kane's opinion was that if they were closer to the One-God they'd receive their reward in the afterlife. Let the ordinary people of Soule have equality on earth.

Kane himself followed the old gods, as his family had done for untold generations. There was a time when he would have reminded the king that not all his subjects followed the One-God. But no longer. The High Bishop was also obsessed with having the king declare the Church of the One-God the one true religion of Soule and Kane was very much afraid that one day the king would be too tired or too ill to care any longer and simply accede to the High Bishop's request.

Kane said a quick prayer to Jik, the ancient god of balance and order. If the High Bishop had his way on that the country would be divided and plunged into chaos and civil war.

"But Your Majesty this theft was an attack on the Church itself," the High Bishop said, his voice getting louder. "We cannot tolerate this in any way. Where is the justice? A commoner terrified and threatened a simple man who has dedicated himself to serving the One-God. We must make an example of this thief. At the very least he must die."

"She," Kane interjected. "And there is absolutely no evidence the priest's life was ever threatened. I have personally interviewed the priest and the inn guards, as well as the Kingsguard who were summoned. The thief was not armed and she tried to run as soon as the good priest woke and gave the alarm."

"Not armed? How can you say she was not armed?" The High Bishop turned to Kane. "She was in possession of a knife, a very fine relic that was being delivered to me personally by my priest."

"Kane is this true?" King Mattias' face was lined with the strain of his illness. "We cannot allow thieves to threaten anyone, let alone priests."

"No we certainly cannot," Duke Thorold agreed.

Kane let out a breath, slowly. Now that Thorold had entered the discussion he would need to tread even more carefully. Where the High Bishop was all bluster and rash comments, Duke Thorold was measured and patient. If Thorold truly wanted to win this debate, in all likelihood he would, eventually.

Kane focused on the now smug High Bishop.

"I agree completely Your Majesty," Kane said. "But the weapon was the object of the theft and the thief dropped it as soon as she was discovered. Nor did she have any other weapon on her. She had plenty of opportunity to slit the priests' throat while he slept if she'd wanted to, instead, even with a knife in her hand, as soon as he woke up she tried to flee. The usual punishments should be handed out - in this case a bond price of two hundred crowns or the equivalent in time worked as an indentured servant." He'd better ensure the jailer received the full bond price. Anything less and the High Bishop might learn of it and use it in another argument.

"That's simply not acceptable!" The High Bishop's face was now an ugly shade of red. "I insist that this thief die. I will not allow my priests to become easy prey for any and all of the common element."

"Your Majesty." Kane bowed to King Mattias. "If you kill this thief I believe there will be repercussions. Two hundred crowns is the standard bond price for a case like this. We simply cannot change the laws at will. If penalties are inconsistent thieves may decide they're better off leaving no live witnesses. It will not, as the High Bishop believes, make priests and nobles safer."

Kane had no reason to believe that the High Bishop would accept what he said as truth this time, just as he'd refuse to accept it all the other times Kane hade made this same argument. The High Bishop simply refused to recognize that unpredictable laws and punishments had the potential to create uneasiness in Soule. With King Mattias ill and with such a loose grip on the throne Kane feared anything with the potential to destabilize any part of the population. If only the other two members of the King's Council spent more time in Kingsreach. That would help limit the High Bishop's influence.

"I agree with Kane on this point Your Majesty," Duke Thorold said. "The commoners must be given consistent laws they can understand. The consequences of breaking the laws must be equally clear. However," he nodded in High Bishop Valden's direction, "I agree with the High Bishop's concern that we are letting acts against the church and the nobility go relatively unpunished. I suggest at a later date we look at how we can strengthen the laws in this regard."

"Good. We can leave the immediate issue in Kane's capable hands," King Mattias replied. "Thank you Captain." Mattias nodded in Kane's direction. Taking this as his dismissal Kane bowed before turning sharply and heading for the door.

From the council chamber, Kane headed immediately to the jail. He needed to talk to Jervis, the jailer. This thief's bond price could not be bartered down. The High Bishop would not forgive. Or forget.

Kane had no wish to be counted among the High Bishop's enemies. The man was petty and mean spirited, but he'd become more cunning in the last year or two. With the power of the church behind him he would be dangerous if not handled correctly. And now he was collecting old steel. Kane needed to know why.

He might as well take a look at the thief while he was here. He was curious about how she was caught. By all accounts she was one of the best in the city, not likely to make a mistake, but the priest had woken up and called the guards. According to the reports from the inn guard, the priest's description had been accurate even before the thief was brought back before him. The inn guard had also sworn that the room was dark when he arrived. So how had the priest been able to see the thief?

The jail was on the lowest level and as Kane strode through the castle halls he nodded to Kingsguardsmen along the way. Dressed in their neat, dark blue uniforms, they kept watch in the corridors of the castle. As he often did, he paused briefly outside the Great Hall and peered in to view the ancient tapestry that depicted King Wolde. The first king, Wolde had united all the minor lords and chieftains to create Soule over two thousand years ago. The tapestry showed the newly crowned King, arms outstretched, as he stood above a crowd of bowed and kneeling figures. Faded but still visible along the top of the tapestry, the five old gods looked on, expressions of approval on their faces. Kane often wondered if High Bishop Valden's sight was failing him. Surely if the man knew the treasured tapestry depicted the old gods he would attempt to alter it. Kane had no doubt the High Bishop would alter history itself if he could.

Kane's boots clacked on the stone floors as the sumptuous furnishings and thick tapestries gave way to older and more worn items the further he traveled from the king's apartments. As he moved through less-traveled areas of the castle, the guards were fewer and farther apart, but all snapped to attention as he came upon them. Soule had not been to war for generations and the castle itself had not seen any conflict for even longer, but Kane kept his guards ready just the same. Weapons' training was thorough and he rotated his men to patrol the border in northern Fallad. Skirmishes with bandits from Langmore helped keep their skills sharp, but he knew he could never compensate for the lack of real battle experience. He did what he could to keep his men ready, as had his uncle before him, and he consoled himself with the thought that war while he was captain was very unlikely.

He'd assigned Andel to guard the thief. His guards were loyal to the king and to him as captain, but the Church's hold on people, including some of his guards, had become much stronger in the past few years. Like him, Andel followed the old gods and so viewed the High Bishop's actions more critically than the Church's followers were wont to do.

Kane nodded to two more guards and entered the jail proper. The outer room held only Jervis, the jailer, and a table and some chairs along one wall. A solid oak door banded with black iron was opposite the entrance that led into the room that held the cells. This door was always kept locked and there was always at least one guard in with prisoners. More guards could be assigned if needed, but it was unusual to hold anyone for any great length of time. Most prisoners for smaller crimes soon had their bonds bought out, either by friends or someone looking for cheap labor. Serious crimes, such as murder, were punishable by death.

"Jervis." Kane nodded to the man as he rose from a chair at the table. "I have orders regarding the thief. The one caught stealing from the priest."

"Aye, Captain." Jervis said.

"Her bond price has been set at two hundred crowns," Kane said. "I must ask that you hold firm on the bond price. It's very important."

"That I'll do, Captain. I'll make sure my men all understand that as well."

"Good. Thank you," Kane said. Now that he'd completed that small piece of business it was time to get a good look at the thief.

"I want to take a look at her," Kane said. "You've got just the one prisoner today?"

"Aye," Jervis said. If he thought Kane's request odd, it didn't show. He simply grabbed a key from the large ring at his side and fitted it into the lock. With a twist, he opened the door for Kane.

"And not much of a prisoner, if you ask me," Jervis said and stepped aside to allow Kane to edge past him.

Kane ducked through the door to enter the cell room and nodded to Andel, who stood to one side of the open door. Jervis relocked the door once Kane was inside, the click of the lock echoing in the enclosed space.

Seven barred cells, each inset with a door, ringed the small space in which he and Andel stood. Walls and ceiling were all cut stone and seven of the cells were swept bare. Old odors still clung to the stone but the air was less rank than one might think. Kane expected the cells to be as clean as the Kingsguards own barracks, and so they were.

In the cell on the left along the back, a layer of fresh straw had been piled against the far wall, covered with a light blanket. On the blanket sat the thief.

She looked small, dressed all in black, with her knees tucked up under her chin and her arms wrapped around her legs. She watched him warily through half closed eyes, but when she opened her eyes wide for a moment, Kane sucked in his breath. Witch eyes, they were, one green and one brown; why hadn't anyone mentioned this? Surely the High Bishop would have used this to make his case for her death? High Bishop Valden despised those who committed crimes against his priests, but he hated witches. A blasphemy against the One-God, he called them. This despite the fact that the Duchess of Aruntun, one of the King's councilors, was descended from a long line of witches.

Other than the eyes there was nothing remarkable about the girl. Woman, he amended, as she looked to be past twenty. Short brown hair curled slightly around a plain dirt-streaked face. Her chin and nose were rather ordinary, as were the rest of her features, even down to the thin, slightly underfed look about her. She wore a black shirt, a well-worn black leather vest and black breeches that were rolled up to reveal slim ankles and supple-looking black leather slippers. He was amused when she deliberately looked him up and down. Her eyes flicked from his head to his boots before they rested on his face. Kane's amusement faded and he twitched his shoulders when he met her solemn gaze. He had the feeling she'd seen more than he wanted her to with those witch eyes.

He bent to Andel. "Why was there no mention about the witch eyes do you think?" he asked softly. Witch eyes were so rare surely someone would have noted them? There had been three inn guards, two of his own Kingsguardsmen, not to mention the priest. All would have been able to see this thief's eyes.

"I gotta tell you, I'm a little relieved Captain, I was starting to think I was seeing things - you're the first person that's remarked on them." At Kane's raised eyebrow, Andel continued. "Even old Jervis there," he nodded towards the door to the other room, "him that's always throwing salt over his shoulder and givin' the sign when he thinks anyone's looked at him crosswise, even he didn't have any reaction to the lass."

Perplexed, Kane looked at the prisoner again. Except for the eyes, physically she was completely unremarkable. He supposed that came in handy for a thief. Maybe that's why she was a thief. He loved Kingsreach and its people, but he knew it was unlikely anyone in town would hire a woman with witch eyes. Maybe in Aruntun, but not in Kingsreach.

He stepped closer to the cell and motioned for her to stand. With a slight sigh, she did, carefully brushing some straw and dirt off her breeches. Kane figured her nose was about even with the top of his shoulder, an altogether average height - all in all, nothing outstanding about this woman in any way. But for the eyes he'd bet most people could watch her steal their purse and not be able to pick her out of a crowd an hour later.

"So," he leaned in towards her. "Why is it no one has remarked on your eyes?" Her only reaction was a small frown and an increased wariness in her eyes. "And why was the priest able to see you so clearly in a dark room yet even he missed those eyes?" Kane was sure her reaction to his last question was fear. Was it because of the priest? The reports he'd read described the priest was a simple country cleric who felt favoured by the One-God when asked to deliver the knife to the High Bishop. Maybe it had something to do with the knife? There was much they didn't know about old steel.

Kane himself wore a sword of old steel, passed down for generations in his family. The sword was his - he felt it in the way it fit his hand, in the perfect balance, and in the soft hum that ran through his body when he wielded it. Every time he took up another weapon he felt the difference. Could she have reacted to something like that? He remembered the first time he'd handled his sword. Even though he'd been expecting to feel something he'd been startled. Perhaps the knife belonged to her family and the thief had a right to it?

"Andel, please have Jervis come in," Kane said and Andel stepped to the door and banged on it three times – the signal for Jervis to unlock it.

"I'm going to interview the prisoner in her cell." Kane told the jailer once he opened the door. It was an unusual request but Jervis simply nodded. He unlocked the cell door and stood aside as Kane stepped through it.

"Jervis why don't you wait in the other room? Andel will let you know when we need out - and I really don't think I'm in any danger from this lass." Kane kept his eyes on the prisoner while Jervis closed the other door on his way out.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Kane took a step in her direction. "But I need to get some answers."

She eyed him warily, her back against the wall.

"I'm not sure I have any answers." Her voice was quiet. "But I'll co-operate." She shrugged and gestured to the cell. "I'm not going anywhere until my mates buy my bond."

"Good." Kane relaxed slightly. She was willing to answer his questions - he hoped she was willing to tell him the truth. "This is what I know. You tried to steal a knife from a priest. He woke up in a dark room screaming for the guard and you were caught going out the window. Correct?" She nodded hesitantly. "But something's missing. Both guards at the inn swear the room was dark when they arrived yet the priest described you perfectly. How did he get a good look at you?" Kane stared at her until she swallowed and looked away.

After a few seconds, she spoke. "Maybe the guards were mistaken about a light in the room."

After she stopped talking, she fidgeted with a bit of straw stuck to her shirt. There was more to this, he was sure.

"Possible, but unlikely. I know these guards well. They used to be under my command and I'm sure they would not be mistaken about something as obvious as a light. And only an unskilled thief would enter a lit inn room at night." Kane held up his hand when it seemed she was about to say something. "You don't strike me as unskilled. So the question again is how did the priest see you in the dark room?"

He studied her as she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. Then her mismatched eyes darted to his sword. There was more in that look than the usual healthy regard for a weapon, even for a thief. As Kane slowly drew his sword he felt the familiar tingle that always accompanied its release from its scabbard. The thief's eyes were fixed on his sword. He gripped the pommel tightly with his right hand and with the sword pommel up, took a step towards her. She shrank back from him and hugged her arms tightly to her side.

"I won't hurt you," he said. "I just want to try something." He reached out with his other hand and grabbed her wrist. She was much stronger than she looked but after initial resistance, she relaxed. He covered her right hand with his left and then pushed them both down on the pommel of his sword.

Kane gasped and almost dropped his sword. Heat crept up his sword arm and settled into every nerve and muscle and sinew of his body. It was similar to the tingle he usually felt when wielding his sword - but magnified ... ten times ... a hundred times. And the light! His sword glowed with a brilliant blue-white light that illuminated every inch of the cell. Eyes wide, he looked into one green eye and one brown eye and he wondered that her face did not reflect his own surprise.

Kane dropped her hand and took a quick step back and the light went out. His hands shook when he slid his sword into its scabbard and he focused on getting thoughts under control. By Jik, what had just happened? All his years in the Brotherhood and never once had he heard of old steel reacting in that way. Even now his sword hummed in a way that it never had before. Had the knife the thief tried to steal hummed as well?

"I know how the priest could give such a good description of you." His voice was still a little shaky. A quick look over his shoulder told him that Andel had also seen what had happened.

The thief backed away from him until once again she stood with her back against the cell wall. She mumbled something under her breath and Kane took a step closer, thinking his nerves were strung so tight he must have misunderstood. "What did you say?"

"It was nothing, just an old saying my mother taught me."

"Repeat it!" Kane was now only two steps away from her. "Now."

"Why? Oh brothers, er, all right. It doesn't even mean anything. Brothers by the throne."

Kane looked back at Andel, who simply stared at the woman, eyes wide.

"Finish it!" He realized he'd been harsh when her body tightened defensively.

"Please, do you know the rest?" He was reeling but forced himself to be calm.

"The rest?" The two differently coloured eyes looked past him to Andel and then settled back on Kane's face with a puzzled expression. "You mean this? Brothers by the throne look to me to save the line?"

Kane closed his eyes and concentrated on keeping his breathing even and quieting his racing pulse. She had rushed the words, there was no sense she'd understood the meaning at all, but the words ... they were all there. When he felt under control he opened his eyes and looked at her face - a plain face that, except for one green eye and one brown, he wouldn't notice in a crowd. Yet this woman, this ordinary, unremarkable woman, had just changed the whole course of his life.

Kane turned to Andel. "You know what this means?"

"Aye, it means it's finally come, what we been waiting for all these years." Andel turned a lopsided grin towards the prisoner. "I'll be truthful lass, I coulda done without this on my watch."

"As could I," Kane agreed. "Even though as a boy I wanted this more than anything." Kane turned back to the thief. From the puzzled look on her face he was sure she had no idea of the importance of the phrase she'd just uttered. Interesting that she had no idea.

"I should introduce myself. I'm Kane Rowse, Captain of the Kingsguard, and you are?" Kane stretched his hand out in formal greeting, not sure she would actually respond. She searched his eyes at length before replying.

"Brenna, I'm called. If you must have a last name, make it Lightfingers." She crossed her arms and hugged them to her chest.

Kane nodded and his hand dropped to his side. It would have to be enough for now, though there was certain to be some discussion of her real name and background. Speaking the Call and her reaction to old steel were enough for him, although he knew that after all these years, all these generations, some would need more.

"Brenna," he spoke to her softly, "you are now under the protection of the Brotherhood. I'm not sure this will mean anything to you so I ask that you have some faith and trust in us. Andel, I'll have Greig and Connell take over for you later. I imagine you'll need to swear witness at the meet. I'll get word to you of the details once I've spoken to my uncle. I'll have Dasid coordinate the guards in here. We'll need two at all times. Ask Jervis to come let me out." Kane sent an apologetic glance Brenna's way. "Unfortunately we'll need to keep you in here overnight, at the very least. Nor can we offer you more than the usual comforts, I'm afraid. We don't want to rouse any suspicions."

Kane glanced at the prisoner once more before Jervis led him from the outer room. He had often, as had all youngsters first brought into the Brotherhood, dreamed that he would be the first to hear the Call. He had never once conceived of anything as unlikely as this. He must report to his uncle at once.

three

Brenna eyed the captain – Kane Rowse, he'd said his name was – as he left the jail. Brothers! What was going on? The sword and the knife from last night- why had they both glowed when she held them? Kane Rowse had clearly had some idea of what he was looking for when he'd put her hand on his sword, but he'd been surprised by the intensity of the light. And she'd felt that tingle, that warmth, spread through her body, and after she'd felt somehow connected to him through his sword.

She frowned and shook her head in disgust. The Captain of the Kingsguard was the last person a thief wanted to come to the attention of. She didn't like it. And he'd been able to see her eyes! No one had ever seen through her mother's prayer before.

Brenna eyed the single guard as she paced the small cell. Kane Rowse had said she was under the protection of the Brotherhood, which must be the "Brothers" in her saying. But what did the old saying mean? Who's throne? What line was to be saved? Although her mother had insisted she learn the phrase, she'd claimed no understanding. Wynne Trewen had been taught it by her mother, who had also claimed ignorance.

She sighed and sat down on the straw, pulled the blanket over her shoulders and huddled under it, worried. Too many strange things had happened in the last day. The knife and sword lighting up – and then there were her eyes. She quickly muttered her prayer of concealment. If folk could see her witch eyes she'd have a hard time going back to her old life.

At least from Kane's comments it sounded like this Brotherhood was going to get her released. As long as they didn't try to buy her bond and indenture her, she'd let them. She'd do anything to keep from being indentured - her mother had died buying her freedom and she would never betray her sacrifice by submitting to another's will ... ever.

The rest of the afternoon Brenna puzzled over the knife, sword and verses but she didn't get any closer to understanding what it all meant. Every so often she'd look up and catch the guard watching her with a look of awe, which set her to scowling. She could not afford to be some sort of pet of the Kingsguard.

She leaned back against the wall and once again said the prayer for her eyes. She'd been faithfully saying it every day for as long as she could remember. She didn't know why it had failed now. Could it have something to do with his sword? But Kane Rowse had noted her eyes before she touched his sword. When she was caught last night no one had mentioned them so why could Kane Rowse see her eyes? If it was only him she could go back to her life in Thieves' Quarter.

Duke Thorold leaned back. When the High Bishop settled into the chair across from him, his black silk robed whispered as it swept the stone floor. The two most powerful advisors to King Mattias often met here in Thorold's study. It was a small, square room well furnished with heirlooms from his ducal ancestors as well as expensive gifts from nobles from across Soule, and Langemore to the north. Duke Thorold appreciated his comforts but he also felt it useful to display his wealth, connections, and family history.

"Lord High Bishop." Thorold poured a glass of red wine and offered it across the table to Valden. "I am glad that you sought me out."

The High Bishop nodded and took the glass. He took a small sip and a blood red drop of wine clung to the corner of his mouth.

"I fear I must remind you," Thorold's voice hardened, "of the need to be discreet. There was no reason to make so much of the thief in front of both the king and the captain."

"But it's an outrage." High Bishop Valden's voice rose in anger. "The church and her clerics do the One-God's work and the law needs to recognize that. The fact that a commoner, a thief, is allowed to defile the holy work being done is intolerable. That girl should be handed over to me so I can ensure she gets the salvation she so obviously needs."

Duke Thorold could imagine what kind of 'salvation' the thief could expect at the hands of the High Bishop. The man had no desire to spare the bodies of those whose souls he saved and Thorold knew of more than one subject who had been tortured to death while undergoing salvation. No matter, he found the High Bishop's inclinations very useful. His knowledge of them ensured the High Bishop would remain his staunch ally.

"I agree that the church and nobility should be above commoners when it comes to the law," Thorold said. "But we must tread carefully. I hate to admit it but Captain Rowse made some valid points. If the consequences are too severe criminals may decide that it's better to leave no live witnesses. We must think carefully before we change the laws. In the meantime we have the knife." Thorold paused and twisted his ducal ring on his finger. The High Bishop had handed the knife in question over to him as soon as the Kingsguard had released it and it was now safe and secure in the study of his Kingsreach estate.

"As for the thief," Thorold continued. "There are other ways to ensure she does not go unpunished. Now, I want to review the statement from your priest. He claims he could see the girl as clear as day, which is quite an accomplishment for an elderly man with failing eyesight in a darkened room. How do you interpret this?"

"Of course there can only be one reason." The High Bishop leaned back in is chair, a self-satisfied look on his face. "It was truly a gift from the One-God for the good priest to be able to see clearly in his time of need."

"Yes, of course." Thorold kept the contempt he felt from his voice and his face. That was one the many things that he despised about the High Bishop. His hold on his church was admirable, but the man's faith in the existence of both heavenly and magical powers was at times far too literal.

Oh, there certainly was magic, but it was not as widespread as people thought, at least outside of Aruntun. Thorold had spent a good part of his life investigating witches and he'd only ever come across one. Even then she hadn't used her powers for the sixteen years that she'd been in his household and even his bed. But in the end she'd used it to help her brat, his bastard daughter, escape her fate. He'd killed her before she could do him any serious harm, thank the One-God. Perhaps that had been divine intervention.

If Thorold ever found the girl he'd kill her too, as he should have when he'd had the chance. It was a pity he'd not known about the magic earlier though, when the girl was younger. It would have been easy to make a small girl, his bastard daughter, grateful to him for being generous and kind to her and her mother. He could think of dozens of uses for a pet witch - but it was too late now.

"While I do understand your request for caution," High Bishop Valden said. "I still feel we should ..."

"Thank you High Bishop," Thorold cut him off with a wave. "I do know your position. You've been quite clear on that, but you'll have to excuse me. I must attend to some other duties and no doubt you have your own affairs to conduct."

The High Bishop nodded. Then he picked up his wine glass and drained it.

Thorold smiled when the High Bishop shut the door as he left. He was well pleased with how he was managing the king's advisors. High Bishop Valden was well in hand. Duchess Avery of Aruntun, who rarely came to Kingsreach, seemed content with the reports he sent her way. Young Duke Ewart of Fallad was acclimating himself to his new roles of duke and husband and Thorold doubted Ewart would be in Kingsreach before the fall.

That left Kane Rowse. The captain was proving to be more trouble than Thorold had expected. He had hoped that when Feiren Rowse stepped down as captain he'd be able to suggest someone more to his liking, but King Mattias had not listened to reason. There had been a Rowse as Captain of the Kingsguard for generations and Mattias would not be swayed from his choice. The only good thing was that, like his uncle, Kane was careful to limit his influence to issues that concerned the guard and the protection of the king and country. The Duke of Comack smiled to himself. The king's health was failing more rapidly and when he finally succumbed to his illness there would be a new Captain of the Kingsguard.

Kane moved to his place near the front of the hall, looked across at his Uncle Feiren and nodded. He'd just let the last of the expected Brothers in and had made sure all exits were sealed and guarded.

The hall was in fact a cavern. It sat directly beneath the Rowse property and had been used as the meeting place for the Brotherhood of the Throne for centuries. Long ago, fast-flowing river waters had scoured out the large cave and the various tunnels that fed into it. Water had smoothed and rounded the rock walls and in the time since then, the floors had been polished by generations of Brotherhood feet. To this day some of the tunnels spilled out along the banks of the Seven River which, in early spring, flowed angrily through the center of Kingsreach, filled with runoff from the Seven Sisters mountain range.

Tonight, as head of the council, Feiren Rowse had gathered as many of the Brotherhood as possible on such short notice. Besides the council of five, who stood behind the high wooden table facing the room, there were some thirty Brothers gathered in clumps, voices low as they exchanged theories of why the meet had been called. Feiren and the council had already discussed the recent events and now they were going to explain it to their membership.

It was time. Kane stepped over and took a place beside a solemn and serious Andel. They'd be called upon to swear witness soon enough.

"My Brothers." Feiren Rowse's deep voice brought silence to the low murmurs that had been echoing around the large room. "The Brotherhood of the Throne has at last been Called. The prophesy is in motion!"

The room erupted in chaos - shouts and cheers echoing in the large cavern. Feiren slammed a palm onto the table and the crowd fell silent.

"If we can have silence we will hear from those who are here to swear witness." Feiren gestured to Kane and Andel. "My own nephew, Captain Kane Rowse of the Kingsguard, whose lineage in the Brotherhood can be traced back to the reign of Wolde, and Guard Andel, also of the Kingsguard, whose family has belonged to the Brotherhood since the reign of Marto. Kane if you would give us a full report? I ask you all to hold your questions until the end."

Kane stepped in front of the table and began his account, starting with the revelation that the High Bishop was collecting old steel. As he described the events he'd witnessed he looked out over the faces of those assembled, seeing the same mix of emotions he'd felt over the past few hours - surprise, fear, excitement, disbelief. He finished by recounting when the thief, Brenna, had spoken the Call, the old passage that had been handed down through the Brotherhood for generations, the words they had been waiting two millennia for. Kane stepped aside and Andel reported what he'd seen.

"And where is this thief at present?" The scorn in Marcus Brunger's voice was a counterpoint to the awed whisperings that had started once Andel's report was complete. "Still in jail I assume. Are we to believe that the Brotherhood of the Throne has been waiting in secret for two thousand years to save a common thief? Where is the proof of her royal bloodline?"

"My apologies, Guild Master Brunger." Kane's voice rang out in the cavern. "I fear I wasn't clear enough in my testimony. She obviously is not a common thief or old steel would not react to her, nor would she know the Call. And what exactly would you expect of the one who raises the Call? Clearly someone of low birth or questionable background would be the most likely to need the Brotherhood. A rightful heir to the throne would have no need of us."

"I agree." Feiren Rowse once again took center stage. "Whether or not the proof witnessed here satisfies every one of us, I am convinced, and the council agrees with me, that the prophesy is in motion. The reason for the Brotherhood's existence has come and we must respond." The rest of the council, three men and one woman all nodded their agreement.

"I trust my nephew's testimony completely," Feiren said. "As well, I've been expecting that our time to act would be soon." Feiren held his hand up once again to quiet the sounds of surprise that followed his statement. "We have on the throne a king who has been ill for a very long time. A king who is now heading into his middle years with no heir of his blood, and no inclination to marry and sire one. His advisors, with the exception of my nephew, seem to have no desire for the king to marry."

"Why would they, when he's named the Duke of Comack's son his heir?" The shout came from the back of the room.

"Precisely," continued Feiren. "Why would they? But Beldyn of Comack has but one of the four bloodlines. If he becomes king then Soule may be in peril. So the Call was not unexpected, at least by this council. We still need more information about this thief, Brenna Lightfingers. How is it she has the bloodlines of Wolde's children running through her veins? We don't know and truthfully, we may never know. But as the head of the council of the Brotherhood of the Throne I declare that the Call is true. We will send word to all chapters of the Brotherhood at once, as well as arrange for a full meet."

Kane and Andel were quickly surrounded by Brothers eager for more information about the Caller. Marcus Brunger and a few of the older men hung back and Uncle Feiren headed towards them. Kane turned to answer a question from Laclan Galloway. Uncle Feiren would be able to convince any doubters, Kane thought, because it was the prophecy - all members of the Brotherhood must embrace their destiny. He looked at Andel's grinning face; of all the youngsters who dreamed of being the one to receive the call, it was they who had heard it.

"I'm assuming we'll be buying her bond?" Kane rubbed his tired eyes. He was seated across the desk from his uncle in Feiren's study. The meet had finally ended and late though it was, Kane knew his duties were not yet finished for the day.

The room they sat in was paneled in dark oak and on the walls, flickering in the firelight were some of the family's most treasured heirlooms - a shield from the Kivvan wars, eight hundred years ago; a halberd that had belonged to the first Rowse to be Captain of the Kingsguard, over two hundred years old. But the most prized possessions were the old steel weapons. In addition to Kane's own sword Feiren had an old steel sword from the time of Wolde, the first king. The wall held three knives and another sword from King Marto's time, made just before the old ways and the old gods were swept away on the tide of the One-God. Worship of the One-God had been imported from Langemore along with King Marto's wife. No king had followed the old gods since.

Feiren Rowse was a large man just into his fiftieth year. The trim form kept firm by years of active duty in the Kingsguard had diminished only a little in the years since his retirement. He'd allowed his thick salt and pepper hair to grow slightly since his military days and it now reached just to the collar of his white cotton shirt.

Beside Kane sat Dasid Addems, second-in-command of the guard, as well as a member of the council for the Brotherhood of the Throne. Dasid was a wiry man with closely-cropped sandy blond hair. At thirty-six more than half his life had been spent in the Kingsguard. Once he was named captain, Kane had inherited Dasid from his uncle and had been gratefully accepting his advice since.

"I think we need to keep out of this," Feiren said. "For the girl's sake it's best if neither the Rowses nor the Kingsguard show any particular interest in her." Feiren took a sip of his wine before continuing. "But I feel responsible as it was I who commissioned the theft of the priest's knife in the first place."

"And I who made the arrangements," Kane said softly. "So I'll make sure she gets out. I'll contact Eryl, the thief I hired to acquire the knife."

"Good." Feiren nodded to Kane. "Now we know the High Bishop is collecting old steel weapons. What we don't know is why, or if he even realizes the significance of them."

"I don't think I realized the significance of them either," Kane said. "Is there anything in the histories that describes the effect the Caller has on old steel?" Kane could still feel his shock and surprise at seeing his sword shining under his and Brenna's hands.

"There might be," Dasid said. "I remember reading something in one of the old texts, a reference to a light of some kind. At the time it seemed to have little relevance, but now..." he shrugged.

"Yes, well, we'll need to go back over some of those texts in light of recent events," Feiren said. "In the meantime Kane must arrange to have our lass's bond bought out."

Kane nodded at his uncle's words. It meant a trip to Thieves Quarter. It was almost midnight so he expected the Quarter to be a hive of activity.

A few minutes later with a couple of heavy purses tucked close to his skin, Kane left his uncle's house by one of the secret passages. This one turned him out into the center of Kingsreach, well away from his uncle's house and only a few blocks from Thieves Quarter.

Kane entered the Crooked Dog, his hat pulled low on his head. He'd been here before dressed as Master Arlott. His finely made but well-worn shirt, vest, and breeches blended in well enough with the downtrodden patrons of the pub. When he scanned the room his eyes burned slightly in air made thick by a drafty fire and cheap tallow candles. One of the two customers looked up at him and then, seeing no threat, went back to staring at the tankard in front of him. Kane walked warily over to the barkeep and placed a copper on the stained wood.

"I need to speak to Eryl." At the barkeep's nod towards the back Kane slid the coin all the way across the bar, then headed to the door the barkeep had indicated. Two quick raps, then three long ones – the signal Kane had been told to use before – and the door opened a crack. A dark brown eye peered out at him.

"I'm here to see Eryl about a delivery that's been misplaced."

The door opened and a beefy man shifted his bulk just enough to allow Kane to squeeze past. The small room had a round table covered with wine jugs and empty glasses, a few hard wooden chairs pulled up to it. Eryl Fentin, self proclaimed Master Thief, sat at the table. Besides the man on the door, two more members of his gang, these two obviously the worse for wine, were also in the room. One man, head down on the table, his cheek dipped into a puddle of wine, snored softly. The other was stretched out on a bench along the back wall, an arm dangling limply onto the filthy floor. The door closed behind Kane and he settled his gaze on Eryl.

"Master Arlott. Good eve to you," Eryl said. "You were not expected." Small-boned and fine-featured, the man addressing Kane had the dark hair and eyes of one from the Falladian plains.

"And good eve to you, Eryl Fentin." Kane sat down across from Eryl. "We have business to discuss."

"Ah, I see you did not receive my message. We've had an unfortunate setback in regards to our efforts to make a certain delivery to you."

"Hah!" The drunk lifted his head off the table as he spoke. "Like as not she'll give us all up to the Guard. Never did understand why ye fancied that witch."

Eryl sent the man a stern look. "That's enough Millen. We have company. As I said, Master Arlott," the thief turned back to Kane. "We've suffered an unfortunate set back."

"Which is why I'm here," Kane said. And what exactly had the drunk meant by his comment about Eryl fancying Brenna? "My patron is aware of the circumstances you and your, er, associate find yourselves in. He's asked that I come on his behalf to make amends." What if Eryl and Brenna were coupled up?

"Despite the fact that the delivery was never made," Kane continued, "the recent turn of events has been of some value to my patron,"

"Has it now?" Eryl's dark eyes glittered and he sat up straighter. "That is good news. Mayhap he'd want to be appreciative about that."

"So he has told me," Kane assured him. "No doubt others would look to take advantage of the situation, but as I told you before, my patron is looking for dependable contacts for now and the future. He feels the least he can do his pay the girl's bond price." Kane had the attention of all four men in the room now and he watched warily as the two 'drunks' straightened up and eyed him soberly. Interesting. Eryl and his gang weren't as undisciplined as they wanted him to believe.

"He'd do that?" Eryl asked. "Pay her bond? Why? And don't give me none of your fancy speeches about your patron's honour. We both know that powerful men don't do nothin' without some payback for themselves."

Kane leaned back in his chair. He'd obviously hit a nerve. Eryl had slipped into street talk. "Let's just say that my patron does not want the girl to fall into the wrong hands."

Eryl nodded slowly at this.

"And be very clear that my patron means for her to remain free." Kane hardened his voice. "So if he hears you have used his coin to indenture her to you, he will not be pleased." Although if Brenna and Eryl were a couple, Kane didn't need to worry about that. But what if there were children? He looked around at the squalid room. No, not possible. The Brotherhood could accept a woman as the Caller, but one with a child? That might be more than even his uncle could manage. Kane pulled a purse out from beneath his vest and tossed it to Eryl.

"That will cover her bond price," Kane said. He pulled a second, smaller purse out and hefted it in his hand, the noise of the coins muffled by cloth. "There is more business to discuss. My patron feels quite responsible for this girl and would like to be kept advised of her whereabouts."

Eryl eyed the second purse speculatively. "I'm not sure I can do that to Brenna. Spying on her wouldn't sit right."

The drunk, Millen snorted. "She'd skin ye if she found out," he said.

"I'm not asking you to do more than let me know if she finds herself in trouble." Kane swept his gaze from Eryl to Millen before he settled it on Eryl. He placed the second purse on the table in front of Eryl. "My patron is concerned for her safety, as well as mine, and recent events may bring unwelcome attention to her. We can't allow her actions to be traced back through you, to me." Eryl wouldn't even consider spying on Brenna if they were a couple. Unless he was simply angling for the extra coin?

Eryl exchanged glances with his men and then nodded to Kane.

"Agreed," Eryl said. He reached out and dragged the purse towards him. "We'll keep a look out on Brenna in case some trouble's been stirred up by this whole mess."

"I will also be watching her at times," Kane said. "I ask that you keep my presence a secret from her." He held his breath, not knowing if they would agree to this last request. He needed to know if the church was after her. On behalf of the Brotherhood, he was now responsible for her safety.

"We'll keep quiet about you," Eryl said as he leaned across the table. "But only if we see no harm to Brenna in this. If we think you've brought her danger we'll make you wish you'd never heard of us."

"That's acceptable." Kane stood up, not wanting to give them time to reconsider. He didn't doubt Eryl's sincerity. Brenna obviously meant a lot to him. He hoped it didn't become a problem for the Brotherhood. In all the years he'd been a Brother, he'd never once thought about the Caller as a real person, leading a real life. Kane felt foolish that he'd overlooked something so basic. Of course the Caller would have a past - of course the Caller would have people in their life. But what that would mean to the Brotherhood?

At the door he turned back to Eryl.

"The bond should be paid at dawn," Kane said. "And I warn you not to barter the bond down. My patron has his own reasons for this request and it's more important that Brenna be out as soon as possible. Remember, this is not your coin. If my patron wishes to pay the bond in full it's none of your concern."

"I ain't gonna take any chances with Brenna," Eryl said.

Kane met Eryl's brown-eyed gaze before he turned and left. He thought the thief could be trusted, in this anyway; Eryl seemed to want Brenna out and safe as much as he did. With a sigh Kane headed out through the pub and into the night. It was very late and he still needed to report to his uncle and change into his uniform before he could finally head back to the castle. He planned on being on hand at dawn; he just hoped Eryl did too.

four

Brenna hugged the worn blanket tighter to try to ward off the chill of the cell. At least she had the extra blanket. She was being given special treatment because of this Brotherhood the captain had spoken about and she wasn't sure she liked it. The fine stew and extra blanket were welcome but she didn't trust any of this. Everything had a cost, she thought. She'd learned that hard lesson when her mother had sacrificed her life for Brenna's freedom. What could the Brotherhood possibly want with a thief?

But the knife and sword had lit up when she'd touched them. She idly rubbed her hand, the one Kane had placed on his own, his sword underneath. What had happened? She'd felt a tingle, a warmth and then the weapon had lit up. And afterward she'd been keenly aware of Kane Rowse and his sword. In some odd way she'd felt connected to them. Oh not that she knew his thoughts, not anything like that. But she was sure she'd felt ... something ... when he'd sheathed his sword, and then again when he'd left the cell. But it had happened so quickly and what he'd told her had surprised her so completely that it might just be her imagination.

At least the two guards on watch now pretended not to be studying her. The other one, the one who'd seen the sword glow, had openly stared at her. He'd only looked away when she'd asked him questions about this Brotherhood. And when her dinner had been delivered and the guard had apologized because the stew wasn't better, Brenna had almost dropped the bowl. That had frightened her almost as much as anything else. She was his prisoner and yet he was apologizing to her. She did not need the Guard in her life like that. Brothers! And that stew had been better than what was served in most inns in the Quarter. Much better than the swill they served at the Crooked Dog - this stew had actual pieces of meat in it, not just the memory of it.

At the thought of the Dog, Brenna frowned. She hoped Eryl would come through for her. By now he'd know what had happened to her - not much went on in the Quarter that Eryl didn't find out about. She'd made him promise years ago that if the Kingsguard ever caught her he'd buy her bond. But that was back when they'd been bedmates. Now all she could do is hope he kept his word.

He'd want to, but Eryl had a hard time keeping coin in his pocket. If he showed up she'd tell him where she'd hidden her own coin. She wasn't sure it would be enough, though. For stealing from a One-God favored priest, no doubt her bond price would be high. But Eryl had to show. She would not be indentured to anyone ever again. She'd rather be dead, like her mother.

Brenna felt her grief rise at the thought of her mother. Six years and the pain felt as raw as the day of her death. She brushed a tear from her eye and grabbed a pebble, scraping furiously at the stone wall of the cell, trying to do something, anything, to push back her grief and anger.

Her mother had not deserved the mean life she'd been forced into. Sold into Duke Thorold's household and forced into his bed, Brenna's mother had never had much happiness, except for her daughter. And even then Brenna knew there was always fear. Fear of Duke Thorold's anger, fear for Brenna's future, fear that as bad as things were he would make their lives so much worse if he found out their secret - that Brenna wasn't his child. Wynne had used her healing and herb knowledge to ensure she bore the child of the man she loved, Thorold's eldest son. But Alastair had died in a hunting accident before he learned he was to be a father, leaving Wynne with no hope for her child unless everyone assumed Brenna was Thorold's bastard. Luckily, Wynne had said, Brenna had her grandfather's jaw. It had been obvious, even when she was a baby that she was of Duke Thorold's bloodline.

Brenna sucked in a breath as her knuckle scraped along the stone and a bead of blood well up. Then Thorold had killed her mother and Brenna had escaped, had become free, just as her mother had always hoped. She would never be anyone's slave again, she promised herself as she absently smeared her blood along the stone wall of the cell.

It was just after dawn when the outer cell room door opened. Stretched out on her blanket, Brenna peered through lowered lids as her two overnight guards left and the jailer entered with two more Kingsguard. She knew, even before she saw him, that one of them was Kane Rowse. He was wearing his sword \- the one that had lit up at her touch. She could sense it, somehow – that same connection she'd felt yesterday. She closed her eyes and concentrated. It was almost like seeing something from the corner of her eye. She knew something was there, but she couldn't catch more than a vague impression of it. And the more she concentrated, the more elusive it was. She wondered if Kane Rowse could feel it too.

"All right Jervis," Kane said. "The paperwork is all in order. Here's the seal of the clerk for the payment of the bond and here's the order to release the prisoner to her bond holder."

Brenna quit feigning sleep and stood up and stretched. The jailer examined two pieces of paper. It must be Eryl. Let it be Eryl who'd come for me.

"Looks all right Captain. A bit unusual to have the bond paid up so fast like, but mayhap she were missed last night, if you catch my meaning." The old jailer cackled as he trudged over to the cell door. The keys jangled as his fingers searched through them.

Her cell door swung open and Kane took her arm. Brenna definitely felt a tingle from the sword reach her through his hand, and when she looked up at him she saw a flicker of puzzlement in his blue eyes.

"This way," Kane said.

His grip tight on her arm, Brenna had no choice but to match his stride as they walked quickly away from the jail. They climbed one short flight of stairs and passed two sets of guards before they reached an arched wooden door flanked by two more guards.

Kane nodded and a guard pulled the door open. Then she was out into the morning, squinting against the bright glare of the day.

"Your friend was here at first light in order to pay off your bond," Kane said and released her arm.

Brenna blinked in the early morning sunlight. Then she saw him.

"Eryl, thanks be to Jik." She hugged him with a surge of relief. "I was hoping you'd come."

"Course I'd be here, Brenna. I gave you my word years ago." Eryl stepped back and gave her a worried look. "Are you all right?"

Brenna's chest tightened and her heart raced. Did he see her eyes? But no, instead of shock or fear, all she saw on Eryl's face was concern.

"I'm fine," Brenna said. Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled. "Let's get out of here."

Brenna let herself be swept along with him as he steered them away from the castle gate and into the quiet dawn streets of Kingsreach. With a last glance back she saw Kane Rowse, face turned away, re-enter the castle.

Brenna and Eryl made their way towards the Crooked Dog. She didn't much like the Dog. The tavern was one of the more run down establishments in Thieves Quarter, but Eryl never was one to pay too much for a bed and a roof over his head. When they'd been bedmates Brenna had paid for their room from her share of their takings, insisting on a clean place to sleep. As soon as they parted ways Eryl had taken a cheap room at the Dog and he'd been there ever since.

They took a winding path through the early morning city streets, sidestepping merchants who were opening up their shops and carts. Anxious, Brenna looked behind, afraid she'd see the blue uniforms of the Kingsguard, but as they traveled further from the castle and the shops became smaller and closer together, she started to believe she really was free. She stepped over a drunk who'd either fallen or been tossed into the street the night before. A cart owner was trying to dislodge him but he simply waved his hand and muttered as he lay face down on the dirty cobbles.

Despite the increasing grime in the Quarter Brenna's shoulders loosened and her hands unclenched as she walked the familiar streets. Now that she was back in her own territory she felt in control. A few blocks from the Dog and she finally stopped worrying about the Guard.

She followed Eryl through the rough wooden door, past the dingy tavern room and up the stairs. Once inside Eryl's room she collapsed on the bed with a huge sigh. She looked up when he held out a parchment to her. She quickly opened it and read the few lines. Her heart sped up and her eyes widened. So much!

"Keep it, it's yours," he said.

Brenna took the parchment – her bond – and flattened it before she tucked it into her vest, next to her pounding heart. Two hundred gold crowns! How could she ever repay that?

"By the gods Eryl, I'm sorry. I have some coin set aside but the rest I'll have to pay off over time. Were you able to barter?" She couldn't remember a higher bond price being paid. And if he'd bartered them down? Brenna felt fear clutch her guts. How much was that cursed knife worth anyway?

"You don't owe me nothin' Brenna," Eryl said. "Weren't my crowns that bought you out. It was the noble who made the original contract. He came by late last night saying how his patron felt responsible. Before I could say anything he ups and gives me a purse with the full amount of your bond - I can't say how he knew the exact amount - and tells me to go get you at dawn and not to barter. I have to tell you," he shot her a wry grin. "That's one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'm sure I could've talked them down forty or fifty crowns. I hate leaving coin on the table like that."

Brenna's stomach unclenched a little, but her fear didn't disappear completely. She didn't like being important enough for someone to pay two hundred crowns for and she didn't like feeling obligated to someone she didn't even know. Was this more meddling by the Brotherhood?

"It doesn't make sense. Why would someone pay two hundred gold crowns to get me out of jail? They were only paying thirty crowns for the knife - and now they don't even have that. Did they tell you why?"

"The noble, Arlott he calls himself, implied that the circumstances had brought his patron more benefits than expected. My guess is they uncovered some information they don't want no one else to know. If they make sure you aren't indentured then whatever they found is more secure. You got any idea what that might be?"

Brenna kept her face as still as possible even as she remembered the glowing sword.

"Who is this patron?" she asked.

"I've only dealt with his man Arlott," Eryl said. "I've not heard bad about him, but not much is known in the Quarter. And nothing about his patron, if he exists at all. Don't seem like trouble, though."

"Except he paid two hundred crowns to give me back my bond." Brenna looked at Eryl but he simply shrugged.

She needed to find out more on her own. She needed to get home, where she felt safe, to think about it. Did this mysterious patron know what had happened when she held the knife and the sword? Only the two Kingsguard had seen that - and the priest. Brothers! The last thing she needed was the church after her. They had a nasty reputation of getting what they wanted and an even nastier one of leaving dead nonbelievers around. And what about what Kane, the Captain of the Kingsguard had said to her? What was this Brotherhood and why would she be under its protection?

Abruptly she rose and headed for the door. "I have to go Eryl. Thanks again. You know where to find me." She quickly left his room and the Dog, heading back out into the streets of Thieves Quarter.

She planned on keeping her head down for a good while. She'd concentrate on her respectable business, healing teas and poultices and such. It didn't bring in a lot of coin so she'd need to dip into her savings but she needed to keep off the streets for at least the next few weeks. Most importantly she needed to find out more about this Brotherhood and their weapons. And how Duke Thorold fit into this. Everyone seemed to want the same old weapons, but why?

Kane tensed his legs and then relaxed them. He'd been standing for over an hour while the High Bishop's complained about the lack of justice for the church. After he'd seen to Brenna's release he'd sent word to his uncle. Then he'd had to attend the king in his council chambers.

Despite the early hour he'd found King Mattias at the mercy of High Bishop Thomas Valden. The High Bishop seemed to have forgotten yesterday's agreement that the matter of the thief was to be left with Kane and was trying to get the king's assent to have Brenna turned over to the church. With heartfelt thanks to the old gods that he'd already seen her safely freed Kane, had stepped in to remind the two of their previous agreement. When he'd mentioned that the thief had already had her bond paid in full and been released the High Bishop had been almost apoplectic.

As he stood in front of King Matthias and High Bishop Valden, who were seated at the round council table, Kane silently cursed his uncle. When he'd been Captain of the Kingsguard, Feiren Rowse had begun the practice of standing during council sessions. He claimed it reminded the other council members of his position as an active soldier, responsible for the safety and security of king and country. As well, he'd told Kane, it was his own reminder to never relax.

"And so I insist we deal with this thief forcefully." High Bishop Valden said. He looked expectantly across the table at King Mattias.

"My Lord High Bishop," Kane said. "I'm aware you feel the church has been mistreated but once again I assure you that the letter of the law has been followed. The maximum bond price was demanded and the maximum was paid in full. There was no lawful reason to keep the thief."

"Then we should change the cursed laws." Valden glared at him "I find it unconscionable that a man of the church, a man who has committed his life to helping others, a man who was simply performing his priestly duties, can be victimized to the point of terror and there is no recourse except that shown to any common man."

"And yesterday the council agreed to look at these laws in the future and not to change the current punishments," Kane reminded him gently, concerned now that High Bishop Valden's hostility seemed to be directed at him. If Valden and the church took too great an interest in him, it could lead them to the Brotherhood. Now that the Caller had finally been found, they could not afford to be exposed. Kane would need to be very careful with the High Bishop. He could not put two thousand years of secrecy at risk.

"Yes, yes," the High Bishop said. "But I've been thinking of nothing else all night and I feel this case must be dealt with. I will not have my priests threatened. I demand that you pick up that girl at once."

"I'm sorry High Bishop," Kane said. "I cannot. Her bond has been paid and she has been freed according to the law. As much as we all want to allay the fears of the victim, jailing her again for the same crime would break the laws I'm sworn to uphold. I'm sure you are not suggesting I do that?" Kane didn't doubt that the priest had been terrified but it likely had more to do with the glowing knife than any threat Brenna posed.

"Of course not," Valden said. "I'm simply saying that victims should be allowed compensation directly from the person responsible for injuries or losses suffered. Perhaps a few years being indentured to the wronged party would help these criminals reform. We ought to change the law to reflect that." Valden smiled smugly at the king.

Kane withheld a sigh of annoyance. The current system was set up precisely to stop that from happening. Indentured servants had it hard enough as it was. It would be many times worse if they were forced to serve those they'd tried to cheat and steal from. And the chance for vengeance could prove too great a temptation for some of the victims. Kane had no wish to push angry or scared citizens that far. Murder was punishable by death, even the murder of someone who'd stolen from you.

"That is of course entirely up to the King and his council." Kane bowed to King Mattias. "As Your Majesty has already agreed."

"Yes, that's correct." King Mattias sighed and tiredly leaned forward. "High Bishop, please work with my seneschal to set up a meeting of the council to deal with this issue. Captain, I'm sure you have other duties to attend to." Mattias looked at each of them. Valden opened his mouth to protest but instead rose and bowed to the king.

Kane also bowed and gratefully left the council chamber. He could almost feel the waves of malevolence coming from the High Bishop as he followed him out of the council chamber. How was he going to stop Valden from twisting the laws to suit his own purposes? Kane already had unsettling reports from Comack that the process of indenturing was being used to permanently enslave the common folk, rather than as a punishment with a specific duration. He would not allow that to happen in Kingsreach.

Once clear of the king's formal chambers Kane headed directly to the lower part of the castle in search of Dasid. The older man was seated at the desk in what was officially Kane's office. As the Kingsguard's second-in-command most of the daily tasks of managing the guard fell on Dasid's shoulders. As well, as the king's illness worsened, Kane found himself spending more time in the council chambers. As a result he was more accustomed to sitting in the chair facing the desk, so he sat there.

"It seems we got our girl out just in time," Kane said. He dragged a hand across his tired eyes and slumped lower in the chair. He'd have to get some rest, and soon. He couldn't afford to let his exhaustion cause him to miss something critical.

Dasid looked up with a start, his green eyes worried. "Is there a danger?"

"The High Bishop believes crimes against his priests must be considered crimes against the church and as such require more severe punishments. That would include indenturing the criminal to the church." Kane frowned as he spoke. "But I'm not sure that's all of it - we still have no idea why the old steel knife was being delivered to him." Kane kept his voice low. "Has my uncle been able to come up with anything more on that?"

"No, although he tells me he still has some ideas on how to find out more." Dasid set aside the sheet of paper he had been working on. "I've put the word out to the Brotherhood about the Caller. I'll need a little more time to work out the details and get the coverage balanced right, but until then there'll be more Brotherhood watchers than thieves in the Quarter. I should have something more permanent to discuss with you later."

"Good." Kane nodded thoughtfully. "I think in light of the church's position I'll check on Brenna as soon as possible. If I think she's in danger I'll contact her." Kane stood to leave. "I'll be in the city for the rest of the day. Why don't we meet at my uncle's for dinner and we can discuss anything else?"

"Of course, Captain." Dasid smiled. "Shall I inform your uncle we've invited ourselves to dine with him?"

Kane laughed. "Tell him it was my idea - he's used to it." With that, he left the office.

It was late afternoon when Kane finally found his way back to the Crooked Dog. The weak daylight that entered through the grimy windows allowed him a good view of the dirt and various stains that covered both the interior and the patrons. Kane wore Arlott's customary brown cloak and hat. The clothes were worn, but, thank the gods, they were also clean. He'd have a hard time explaining how the Captain of the Kingsguard ended up with fleas.

"Is Eryl Fentin in?" Kane asked the tavern keeper. The man nodded and gestured towards the room Kane had visited last night. Kane knocked on the door using the same pattern as before and was quickly let in.

"Master Arlott," Eryl said. "I'm surprised to see you again so soon. This visit may not be wise."

"This will be my last visit to you for some time." Kane said. He was relatively certain his disguise would hold but the church would know Eryl had paid Brenna's bond and might be watching him. He couldn't afford to be recognized by the church. "I need to renegotiate our agreement of last night. I need to personally ensure safety of our mutual friend."

"Your patron is being unusually considerate." Eryl leaned forward on the table. "Her bond has been paid and she's safe."

"For now," Kane said. "But I need to know her exact location."

Eryl's eyes narrowed and his lips tightened as he slouched lower in his chair. "No, I can't do that. I'll not snitch on Brenna unless you give me a good reason."

"I need to find out if she's being watched. And if she's in danger I want to make sure she understands how much and from whom." He held out a small purse. "The owners of a certain item my patron hoped to obtain are unhappy - they feel the One-God did not receive justice." He met Eryl's gaze and held it until the other man finally gave a single quick nod.

"The church is a ruthless enemy." Eryl said. "If I've put Brenna in their sights she'll slit my throat. And since she's the finest healer in the Quarter I'd not likely have anyone to mend me, would I? And that's all I'm going to say on the subject of Brenna."

Kane tossed the purse to Eryl, who caught it and quickly hid it in his clothing. With one last tip of his hat, Kane turned and left. In a place like the Thieves Quarter he should have no trouble finding a healer named Brenna. Kane smiled as he exited the tavern. This was much safer than asking for a thief - anyone could have need of a healer.

Kane watched the seamstress shop from a wine seller's across the street. Slightly better than the Crooked Dog the wine seller had a few benches and tables set up outside. From one, he had a clear view of the seamstress shop.

He checked the sun's height in the sky. It was late afternoon and there hadn't been any unusual activity around the seamstress shop. The only watcher was the Brother with the fruit cart on the corner, which was a relief. He had to assume that the church did not know where Brenna lived. Satisfied that all was quiet Kane left a copper for the serving girl and stood. If he left now he could get to his uncle's on time

Brenna eased back from the window and settled the heavy curtain in place. He'd finally left. She wasn't certain that the man in the brown cloak and hat had been waiting for her, but she'd had an uneasy feeling. There was something familiar about him - the way he moved or the angle of his head. Both healing and thieving required that she notice small details that others would overlook. She couldn't quite place him but she'd trusted her instincts and stayed inside while he sat out there.

She'd wait another half hour, just to make sure he'd really left. And she'd keep an eye out for him in the next few days. Because if he was looking for her, he knew where she lived. Brenna didn't like that thought at all.

She'd always felt safe enough in her rooms. Once in the shop, you had to pass Mistress Dudding in order to reach the back stairs that led up to her rooms. The third step from the top creaked and she'd added a solid lock to the door at the top. She'd lived here for more than two years. Mistress Dudding had been a patient - Brenna had made a salve for the seamstress's arthritic hands. On her second visit she'd been offered the rooms over the shop.

They were small and plain – the chair she sat in was only a few steps across from the door and close enough to the window that she could peek out from behind the thick white curtain. A large table – strewn with books, scrolls and old parchments - was squeezed in beside the window and the fireplace, a simple hearth that also fed the heat from the kitchen below through the room. Along the back of the table, up against the wall, she'd filled some old wooden crates with her tools - mortar and pestle, dried herbs and leaves, bottles of viscous liquids - as well as a small pack that held her lock picking tools.

A separate sleeping chamber was accessed through the small wooden door opposite the fireplace. A tiny room with a sloped ceiling, it had a single window that was just big enough for her to squeeze through, as she'd proved when planning an escape route.

Brenna pulled the curtain aside and looked out onto the street again. The man was gone - perhaps he really had been having a simple glass of wine? She grabbed her cloak off the wooden peg by the door and pulled it around her shoulders, locked her door and headed down the stairs. After a quick greeting to Mistress Dudding, she went out and headed for the local fruit stand.

"Hello Pater, what's the best eating today?"

Pater the fruit seller had been a fixture on this street of the Quarter for as long as Brenna had been around. A grizzled man with silvery gray hair and beard, his smile was contagious despite some missing teeth.

"For my best customer I'd suggest a sweet peach, the first of the season from the southern lands in Aruntun." Pater said. Then he stopped.

Brenna looked up to find him staring at her oddly.

"What's wrong?" Brenna looked around. Maybe the man from the wine sellers was still around?

"Nothin' lass," Pater said and shook his head. "Nothin' at all. Here, this is for you." He picked up a plump peach and handed it to her. She fished in her purse for a coin.

"No." The old man smiled at her and seemed to relax, finally. "You keep your money today. That poultice you gave me for my sister's youngest sure enough did the trick and the lad's up and back at work these past two days already. My sister thought for sure he'd need to be off that foot for another seven days."

"If you're sure? You paid me for the poultice already."

"I'm sure. Wouldn't have no peaches if the boy weren't back at work. He's the one who dealt with the Aruntian traders. Besides, that tea you brought me last week helped ward off the chill." Pater smiled as Brenna put her purse securely under her vest. "Where're you off to lass?"

"Just going over to the collegium. I came across a new plant that's supposed to be good for reducing fevers and I want to check for any other properties it might have." Bren took a bite of the peach and smiled at the sweetness of it.

"Well I guess that's why ye be the best healer in town." Pater shook his head. "Ye're always off to the library finding things out."

With a final wave Brenna headed down the street. She grinned - Pater didn't know the half of it. It was amazing what she could find out in the library, especially with help from her friend Randell. He knew where everything was and tended not to notice when she asked for unusual things - such as the original building plans for inns and fine houses - very useful information for a thief. Brenna certainly did a lot of research on plants but she often wondered why Randell never questioned her choice of research materials. But then he was one of those frightfully scholarly people, always with his head between the pages of a book or his nose to a scroll. Who knew what kinds of things he was interested in? His list of reading materials probably made Brenna's seem innocent. She finished the peach and licked the sticky juice off her fingers as she made her way towards the center of town and the collegium library.

"The Brotherhood of the Throne." Randell's brown eyes got that far away look that meant he'd come across that subject before. "Now where would that be? Ah, of course!" Randell headed out of the room where he'd been reading from a stack of dusty books piled high on a long wooden desk.

Brenna grabbed a lamp and followed the small man through a maze of laden bookcases. She'd long ago given up trying to understand the organization of the books. Randell had explained it to her more than once and she was more than capable of figuring her way around the books about plants and healing and such, but the rest of the library was an incomprehensible jumble of books, charts and hand written tomes.

Randell slowed down a little and Brenna caught up to him. He was a small, wiry man who was past his middle age, but he could still move quickly when he wanted to.

"Brenna, pull that light a little closer please."

She held the lamp up high enough to illuminate the upper-most shelf of books. From the layer of dust all around, Brenna figured they were in one of the least used areas of the library.

"What is this section?" She pulled out a book and tried to read the inscription of the cover, but the lettering was too faint to read so she put the book back on the shelf.

"It's not really a section, yet." Randell gave her a sheepish look. "I need to get it sorted out but every time I try to start in here I end up taking a book away with me and reading it cover to cover. It's where we keep all the oldest books. Many of these are from the earliest days of the Kingdom of Soule and have accounts of the first kings as well as the old gods. There was one book that contained the story of King Wolde. I think that's where the Brotherhood was mentioned. Ah, here it is." Randell reverently brushed the dust off the book cover and lifted it from the shelf. With Brenna still following him he stepped over to a nearby table and laid the book out. He scanned the pages as he leafed through the book.

"Yes, this is it." Randell let his finger hover over the text as Brenna leaned over the book to decipher the ornate, hand written passage.

"And as King Wolde came unto his dotage he became ever fearful that his line would weaken and so plunge Soule once again into the chaos of war and conflict from which he'd raised it." Brenna paused and leaned closer to the book.

"It is said that his daughter Aruntun had Seen this herself, and asked her father to protect the land. And so was the Brotherhood of the Throne formed. Those closest to the King they were, noble and peasant alike - Swordsman and cook, farmer and advisor - all swore that they and their descendants would stand watch over Wolde's bloodline. And Aruntun had another true vision that she recorded thus. "When the blood of Wolde is weakened and the line of kings is broken, one will come who reunites Wolde's blood." The Brotherhood of the Throne awaits the one foretold by this prophecy, who will Call in their time of need, " she continued. "And none but the Brotherhood and the true line of Wolde know the Call." Brenna finished reading. Was this Call the simple verse her mother had taught her?

"So who would have the blood of Wolde?" she asked Randell.

"Wolde's eldest son Tustain became king after him and his other three children, Comack, Aruntun and Fallad, he created the duchies for, so it would be the ruling families of the three duchies and the king."

Brenna shivered - she had two of the four bloodlines.

The prophecy echoing in her head, Brenna waited while Randell looked for more passages about the Brotherhood. Soon enough he'd exhausted all his likely searches, so before he started looking in the unlikely places - which from experience she knew could take days - she thanked him and headed out of the library.

She had left the Collegium behind and was deep into the adjacent streets before she noticed that she was being followed. A man was shadowing her, taking each turn she did and she cursed herself for her carelessness. It was full dark and she was in an area of town she was not completely familiar with - her inattention had put her in danger.

Brenna fought the urge to run. Instead she walked slowly and kept her actions as predictable as possible. In this unfamiliar part of town it would be easy for her pursuer to trap her in a dead end. But she had to lose him as soon as possible.

At the third intersecting street she ducked around the corner and with light feet, ran to an alley half a block down. Her breath rasped loudly in the silence of the night as she looked down the alley. A dead end, but it was empty. Brenna edged into the alley and dropped to the ground. She ignored the over-ripe scents of moldy food and instead concentrated on calming her breath as she lay in the muck.

She eased her body forward until she could see around the corner. In the middle of the street she'd just left, a man walked quickly, his head moving from side to side as he scanned the shadowed doorways of the buildings that lined the street.

No doubt he'd come into her alley. She'd need to hide, and quickly. She rose to a crouch and retreated further back into the alley but was stopped at the end by a wooden fence, warped and splintered by the elements. A board was loose and she tried to pry it up enough to squeeze through, but then her pursuer was at the mouth of the alley and all she could do was sink down into the shadows created by the wall and the fence.

Eyes half closed in case they caught the light and gave her away, she waited, heart pounding, as he seemed to look right through her. He took one step, then two, towards her and Brenna clenched her fists and rose slightly from her crouch. She'd let him take another step or two and then she'd rush him. If she caught him by surprise she might be able to slip past.

There was a noise from the street and her pursuer turned, distracted. Two drunks were walking past the mouth of the alley, singing loudly. Then one stumbled into the alley, his hands reaching towards his breeches. Brenna straightened up, ready to run, ready to take advantage of the drunk's urge to piss. Then, just as her pursuer turned back towards her, the drunk darted forward, one hand raised towards her pursuer. The man turned and cursed the drunk and tried to bat his arm away, but he was too late. Brenna glimpsed a white cloth in the hand of the drunk and then her pursuer slid to the ground. The second drunk backed into the alley, alertly watching the street. The two of them lifted her pursuer and draped his arms around their shoulders. With him upright between them, feet stumbling, they headed back out into the street. One of the drunks looked back over his shoulder. She saw his head dip in a slight nod, and then he opened his mouth and started to sing, off key, a common drinking song. The other drunk joined in and they turned the corner and were out of view.

Brenna exhaled a long, slow, shaky breath. Their noisy singing had faded away before she relaxed and unclenched her hands. She'd been helped, but by whom? The Brotherhood? Had they been following her the whole time and she hadn't noticed?

A few minutes later Brenna crept towards the mouth of the alley. At the spot where her pursuer had been grabbed, she stopped and sniffed the air. Her nose wrinkled at the acrid odor that still lingered. Essence of alegria, she was sure of it. The two 'drunks' had been prepared. It was a powerful potion that would render a person docile while still allowing them to remain on their feet. She resisted the urge to look around but she couldn't suppress a shudder as she left the odor behind her. Her skin crawled with the feeling of being watched.

Brenna took her time finding her way home. She kept to back alleys and yards and by the time she reached the seamstress shop she was extremely foul smelling and dirty. But she was safe. For now.

five

Kane rubbed his hand across his eyes. The lack of sleep over the past two nights was taking its toll. He'd been at his uncle's until the early hours again, this time in response to a message from Dasid. Brenna had been followed and the Brotherhood had had to intervene. They'd had to wait a few hours until the drug wore off the man they'd caught, but he'd seemed no more than a hired footpad. Hired by a priest of the One-God, he claimed. The priest had been disguised, but the rogue had been confident. His instructions were to follow Brenna and report her movements back to the priest in two days time, but he said it was clear he would be paid more if he delivered Brenna herself. And her condition on delivery wasn't a concern.

The footpad did not know where Brenna lived and had felt lucky when he'd stumbled across her in the street. Lucky until he'd been caught by Mallen and Hollier, that is. The disguised priest's only lead had been Eryl Fentin, as the one who had paid her bond.

But now that the church was looking for Brenna the Brotherhood had no choice - Kane would have to get her to a safe place.

When Kane entered his office he found Dasid hunched over the desk. The older man also looked worse for wear, but when their eyes met Dasid's sparkled with excitement.

"You look like you're enjoying this." Kane stretched before he sat across from Dasid. "I wish I could say the same thing. I haven't had to go this long without proper sleep since I was a recruit."

"I'm tired as well. It's been at least ten years longer since I was a recruit, and I am feeling every one of those years." Dasid looked up and grinned. "But I'll admit this takes me back to when my father first told be about the Brotherhood. I was ten at the time and all I could think of was the adventure of it all. He tried to discourage me - after all, it had been two thousand years - there was no reason to believe that anything would happen in my time. But here we are. And now we find out that it's a fair lass we're out to save."

"Hah!" Kane's answering grin belied his gruff tone. "Some fair lass." He leaned over the table. "Don't you know she's a thief?" he whispered.

"Yes, but then again, the Brotherhood have never disparaged someone's ancestors or their chosen line of work. All can be used to further the cause."

Kane nodded his agreement. The Brotherhood had been keeping records of its member families for as long as it had existed. They had documented proof that nobles didn't always start or end as nobles. It was as likely that a current lord was descended from peasants as it was to find the original lord's descendants sweeping out stalls in a stable. Kane's own family's fortune had been up and down many times in the past two thousand years. For the past six or so generations they'd managed a legacy of soldiers and Captains in the Kingsguard, but in another six generations, Kane reasoned, they could be fisherman or farmers - or for that matter, thieves.

Kane, in his Master Arlott guise, searched the street in front of the seamstress' shop. He nodded to Pater at his fruit stand and the old man headed his way, leaving the stand in the hands of a youth. Last night Dasid and Kane had decided it would be much better to approach Brenna Lightfingers with someone she knew, so Pater had been conscripted for the job. Kane knew the man only slightly - his attendance at Brotherhood meetings was infrequent and he usually kept to himself. Kane hoped it was simply the natural reticence of a man who lived and worked in a part of town where everyone kept to their own business.

"Pater, I trust Dasid spoke to you?" Kane touched the rim of his hat. "And I hope you're comfortable doing the talking?"

"Yep, not sure I'd have agreed otherwise," Pater said. "I made him tell me about the run-in over to the Collegium and everything. Brenna now, she's a good sort, despite her being a thief and all. She'll be all right as long as we tell her the truth." Kane met Pater's accusing gaze steadily. "She done all kinds of good things for the poor folk around here with her healing and such. Lot's of folks can say that they're still around 'cause a Brenna the healer. And she don't never charge more'n you can afford, but she always charges somethin' so you never feel like she's givin' charity." Pater grinned. "And she drives a mean barter, as well."

Kane hid his surprise. He wasn't sure what he expected, but a kind hearted healer wasn't it. He had to admit, he did prefer to think of Brenna as a healer rather than as a thief. His naive idealism about the Caller hadn't completely disappeared.

"But I'm not sure about them eyes a hers," Pater continued. "I've known Brenna for years and until yesterday she'd always had two brown eyes, same's me. And then yesterday I see she's got one brown one and one green one. Never seen the like afore. Do you think it has somethin' to do with her bein' the Caller?" he asked. "When I heard about the old steel I think maybe it's all related, like. I didn't say anything to her about it. I figure it's Brenna same as always, and I know she's the Caller, but ..."

"That is odd," Kane said. "I wondered if her eyes were the reason she became a thief, but you say no one could see them before."

"No." Pater shook his head. "It would be remarked on. Seems like most folk don't see the change, neither." He looked at Kane then shrugged.

"It could have something to do with the prophecy," Kane said. "But she didn't go from having two brown eyes to having witch eyes. She knew about them." But why were her witch eyes only showing now, and not to all people? "I'll need to see what can be found out about that. But for now, let's go find this healer."

The two walked across the street and entered the seamstress's shop. Pater removed his hat as he approached a middle-aged woman sitting by the light of the window doing needlework.

"Good day to you Mistress Dudding," Pater nodded to the woman. "This gentleman here is in need of a healer. Now when he asks me, I say to him, 'there's no better healer in all of Soule than the one lives over the seamstress Dudding's shop.' So here we are. If it please, could you let Brenna know there's someone here to see her?"

Mistress Dudding smiled and pointed to a set of stairs behind her. "Seein' it's you Pater, why don't you go on up. You'll make sure this gentleman does right by our Brenna, I'm sure."

"Thank you, Mistress." Pater said and Kane followed when the old man headed towards the stairs. The door was closed at the top, but at Pater's knock, Kane heard some muffled steps.

"Who is it?" came softly from the other side of the door.

"It's Pater, lass."

Kane heard the bolt slide open and the door opened just enough for him to see one green eye staring out.

"Pater, good to see you." Despite the warmth of the words the door didn't open even another inch.

"I've brought a gentleman to see about some healing." Pater leaned towards the door and lowered his voice. "It's about his two brothers. Seems the two of them got drunk last night and ran into an old friend out by the Collegium. So now his brothers need a cure for their aching heads. "

At the girl's sharp intake of breath, Kane swore under his breath. Pater had no right letting the girl know they were behind the incident at the Collegium. What was he thinking? Dasid shouldn't have even told the old man this information.

The door opened a little more and Kane watched as one green eye and one brown eye fixed on him, then widened in recognition.

"Get in here." Brenna practically pulled him through the door. Pater scurried in and she firmly closed and bolted the door before she turned to the older man.

"What do you think you're doing bringing the Captain of the Kingsguard here?" she hissed. "The whole Quarter will know in less than a day."

"Calm down Brenna. Does he look like the Captain of the Kingsguard to ye?"

Brenna glared at Kane. Her eyes traveled over his well-worn cloak and battered hat. "No, I guess not." She still didn't look happy.

"I assure you," Kane bowed with a flourish, "Master Arlott is a known figure in the Quarter. And none would be surprised to hear he had visited a healer here rather than one in a more prosperous part of town. It's well known he has a patron with more ambitions than money."

"You're the one who wanted the knife." Brenna's voice was flat with suspicion. "And the one who gave Eryl my bond price. What do you want with me? I warn you, I own my bond and you can't take it back now."

"The lad doesn't want any such thing, Brenna," Pater said and her gaze flitted to the older man. "We want to make sure you are safe and free more than you know. We've all sworn to keep you safe."

"You too, Pater?" Brenna asked. "You're part of the Brotherhood?" She dragged a hand through her hair and her shoulders slumped. "I need to sit down."

They followed her into a small sitting room. Brenna took a seat on a chair by the window and motioned for them to get comfortable as well. Pater leaned back against the table. Kane took up a position near the door and stood, relaxed yet ready, much as he did in the King's council chamber.

"So, this is because you think I spoke this Call?" Brenna asked. "The one from Aruntun's vision?"

"Yep," Pater said with a chuckle. "I shoulda known you'd start to figure things out yerself."

And Kane wondered how she'd known about the vision. Had it been passed down to her with the Call? That could be even more proof of who she was.

"It's barely been two days," Pater continued. "And already ye know some of our secrets. Aye, I'm part of the Brotherhood too. There's more'n ye might think and from all walks of life. I'm sure the captain here could give ye more of the why's an whatnots, he's more at the center of the whole thing, but my family's been a part of the Brotherhood for as long as any of them. That's one of the reasons the captain and me have come to see ye. Ye need to know about the Brotherhood, and ye need to know that ye could be in danger." Pater met her gaze. "Someone followed ye last night. Someone other than the Brotherhood."

Brenna nodded. "Yes, it was over near the Collegium. I wasn't paying enough attention, so I don't know when he first found my trail. Then two drunks came along. Brotherhood?" She turned to Kane. When he nodded she continued. "They used alegria on him."

"How do you know?" Kane frowned. Not more than four or five Brothers knew that.

"I'm a healer. I know the effects of many, many plants, both good and bad. And the more dangerous ones I know by smell."

"But my reports say that you weren't very close when they used it," Kane said.

"I smelled it when I walked past after they left." She fixed him with her two-colored gaze. "So, do you have any information to share with me on my pursuer? Since you've told me I'm under the Brotherhood's protection, I'll assume this other person was a threat?"

"Um, yes, well, we've not been able to determine for sure who this man was working for." Kane really didn't want to go into too much detail. His task was to keep her safe not tell all of their secrets.

"Pah, I told ye man, ye need to be honest with her." Pater glared at him. "Brenna's a smart lass, she'll make the right decision."

"I'd listen to Pater if I were you," Brenna said. "He's known me a lot longer than you have. He also knows I can disappear and that you won't find me unless I want you to."

Kane met Brenna's gaze. Her chin lifted and she raised a single eye brow. He sighed. He recognized that look. He'd seen it on many a recruit, just before they dug in their heels and did something they regretted later. The last thing he wanted was for her to run. Not after the Brotherhood had waited so long for her. He remembered what Uncle Feiren had said, that if Duke Thorold's son held the throne, Soule could be in danger. That was the root of the prophecy, after all, safeguarding the country. This meant that Brenna, as the Caller, had to trust and believe in the Brotherhood.

"We believe the Church of the One-God hired the man who was following you. That's what he thought anyway." Kane wasn't sure how much to tell her, but Pater glared at him again so he continued. "The instructions were to gather information only, nothing else, but the footpad had the impression he could get a better price if he handed you over. And it didn't seem to matter to him if you were still breathing." He watched as Brenna's lips narrowed into a thin line.

"What else."

"That's it." He met and held her gaze for a few seconds.

She frowned and stood up.

"Get out." Brenna unbolted the door and started to open it. "Thanks for the warning, but I can look after myself." She waited by the door as he slowly rose from the chair. He stood facing her as she glared up at him.

"What else do you want me to say?" Kane asked. "Brenna, you are in danger, believe me." He couldn't let her make him leave. Two thousand years and he was about to lose her for the Brotherhood - it might take them years to find her again.

"Oh I believe you," Brenna said. "But I don't believe you've told me everything. If you want to stay then you need to tell me the rest. I will not let you or the Brotherhood use me as a tool."

Kane looked from Brenna's angry face to Pater's grim one and nodded. "I deserved that," he said. "The Brotherhood has been waiting for the Caller for so long it seems some, including me, have forgotten that you are a real person, with a life of your own. And if the prophecy is to be fulfilled then it stands to reason that you must be intelligent and resourceful." And be a natural leader who the Brotherhood would willingly follow.

Brenna nodded and slid the bolt back across the door. Kane relaxed and smiled in relief.

"You have one last chance." Brenna leaned against the door and eyed him warily. "What else?"

"Ever since you were caught the High Bishop has been looking for your blood." Brenna nodded as though she'd been expecting it. "He's taken it personally that you would try to steal from one of his priests. And it doesn't help that the knife was being brought to him, at his personal request. It adds weight to one of his favourite arguments. The High Bishop and Duke Thorold of Comack are adamant that crimes against priests and nobles must have more severe penalties than crimes against others."

"I can imagine the duke would like to be above the law." The bitterness in her voice surprised him. "And the knife wasn't destined for the High Bishop. Duke Thorold's been collecting similar objects for the past few years, but until now, I'd not seen one."

"How do you know this?" Kane asked.

"Let's just say that sooner or later everyone needs a healer. And it's known that I take information as a trade." A grim smile flitted across her face. "I like to know what the duke is up to. Does Duke Thorold know about me?"

"As far as the theft, yes. Other than that, I'm not sure." What her interest in Duke Thorold of Comack? Did she know him personally?

"The Brotherhood," Kane continued. "Believed someone else was behind the church's acquisition of old steel, but our information never pointed to anyone in particular." At Brenna's puzzled look, he explained. "Old steel was created long ago when only the old gods were worshipped. The Brotherhood's records say there are specific methods to create it as well as rituals that imbue it with strength and powers beyond normal steel. From personal experience I know it will not break or shatter the same as normal weapons. Both the knife and my sword are made of old steel."

Brenna sent a wary glance towards his sword. He had to admit he didn't look at it exactly the same any more either.

"My granda said all families in the Brotherhood had old steel weapons." Pater spoke from across the room, where he still leaned against the worktable. "But some families came on hard times, or lost the old ways and started believin' in the One-God. Then old steel was sold off or lost. Me, I got a nice knife. Gave it to my sister's son when we brought him into the Brotherhood. Don't think any is made new these days."

"That's right," Kane nodded. "The Brotherhood has lost the ability to forge old steel weapons. We think the secret was held by only one family but for some reason our records are unclear about which one. But in light of how old steel reacts to you there obviously is more we need to understand about it. Maybe you can help us with that?"

"No. " Brenna shook her head decisively. "You may think I'm some long lost descendant of kings, but I don't believe it. And I work alone. It's much safer that way."

"But the Brotherhood can keep you safe," Kane said. It was hard to keep his growing panic and frustration from his voice. He had to get her somewhere where they could protect her. The Brotherhood couldn't lose the Caller after waiting so long. He couldn't lose the Caller. He'd taken an oath when he'd joined the Brotherhood and he had no intention of not honouring it.

Brenna shook her head again. "Having the Brotherhood around will only make me a bigger target. I've spent far too much of my life trying to go unnoticed to be comfortable with that." Kane started to speak but she held up her hand to stop him. "I know you think you've got good people, but it's the difference between a predator and prey. The predator hides and watches and thinks they are completely invisible, but the smart prey, the prey that grows old, they know where the predator is, how long it's been there, what its last meal was. Thieves Quarter is full of people who have been prey all their lives. If you put watchers on me someone will notice. Eventually someone will decide that knowing that the healer is being watched is worth something. And the information will be passed on and on, and sooner or later it will get to someone who will find it very interesting. Like your High Bishop, or Duke Thorold. I won't help you put a bigger target on me. If I keep my head down and stay out of trouble this will all be forgotten in a few months. But not with the gods know how many Brothers watching me. So call off all your men and stay away from me."

"Well, that were better'n I expected," Pater said. They were back outside at the older man's fruit stand.

"Really? In what way?" Kane was exhausted. On top of his lack of sleep, his discussion with Brenna had been tiring. If he'd thought about what it must have taken a woman to become a thief, and survive in the Quarter, he might have been better prepared. Of course she resented strangers coming in and trying to tell her what to do. He would too.

"Well, she heard us out, for one." The old man laughed. "Though for a bit there I didn't think she would. Don't be so hard on yerself, lad. We did what we went to do. We warned her about the danger she's in, we let her know who was behind it, and we offered her more help. Just 'cause she don't want our help today don't mean she won't want it tomorrow. Besides, you don't know her like I do. Brenna's smart as they come. She's real good at staying out of trouble."

"I hope you're right," Kane said. With the kind of trouble that was following her she could end up dead.

Brenna peered out the window and watched Kane stride off down the street. Pater was back at his cart and when he looked up at her window, she let the curtain drop back into place. Slowly she paced her small room. She was angry - angry with Kane and Pater for trying to get her to give up her whole life and fall in with the Brotherhood - angry at the situation she found herself in - but most of all she was angry that Kane's offer of safety tempted her.

Last night, when she was followed from the library, she'd been afraid. Now that Kane had confirmed that the church was looking for her, she was even more afraid. She shuddered. She knew what the church of the One-God did with those they had grievances against.

Last summer she'd seen the body of a woman who had disappeared after the church had come to question her. Brenna had been on a roof across from the church waiting for the occupants of a nearby house to settle for the night when the church doors had opened. Two men had been carrying something between them and a strong gust of wind had lifted the cloth cover. In the light from the street lamps Brenna had seen an arm, limp and pale and streaked with blood, or so she'd first thought. But as one of the men fought to pull the cloth back over the arm she'd realized in horror what she was actually looking at. It wasn't a streak of blood - it was raw flesh where a strip of skin had been peeled away. When the men had deposited their burden in the bed of a waiting cart, a third man had come from the church, a bundle of cloth in his arms.

"Burn this too," she'd heard him say as he shoved the bundle into the cart. And at the top of the bundle was a scrap of material with a blue and yellow checked pattern. A perfect match for the scarf the missing woman was last seen wearing.

Brenna paced her room. She'd just be extra careful. She couldn't let her fear get the better of her. She stopped at her work table. She needed a distraction, needed to do something. She selected some herbs and quickly measured them into her mortar. She ground them into a powder then dug her hand into a jar and scooped out some beeswax. The familiar actions of mixing the salve for Mistress Dudding's arthritis calmed her, and after a few moments Brenna felt her breathing slow and her shoulders relax. She would stay out of sight, even if it meant locking herself in her rooms for a few weeks. The church would not find her so there was no reason to accept Kane's offer of protection. Besides she didn't believe she was the prophesied one. How could she be? She was a healer and a common thief. And that suited her just fine.

six

Duke Thorold glared at the lad who had brought the message. Fridrick, his most learned scholar, had sent him with word that he'd not made any progress in his search to understand the ancient weapons Thorold had been collecting.

The youngster was literally shaking, head down and afraid to look up at him.

"Boy," Thorold said. "Tell Master Fridrick that I will see him at once. And tell him I will accept no excuse for delay." When the boy hesitated Thorold bellowed. "Go!" He watched in satisfaction as the boy hastily backed away, then turned and ran from the room. Fridrick should know better than to send a servant with his report. It was a mistake the scholar would regret, he'd see to that. A few minutes later Master Fridrick entered his study. Duke Thorold deliberately ignored him. Finally the scholar coughed slightly to make his presence known.

"You wished to see me, my Lord?" The old scholar was wearing a long gray tunic with various smudges and ink stains. His hair was plastered to his head and pale scalp showed through as Fridrick stood before him, head bowed low.

"Yes, I did." Thorold said.

Fridrick straightened but kept his eyes on the floor in front of him. Thorold smiled and gazed steadily at his scholar until the man swallowed nervously.

"Do you know why I've called you here?" Thorold asked.

"You wish to discuss any progress I've had on the ancient weapons?" Fridrick's voice trembled slightly.

"Correct. And I wish to hear it from you! Not some stuttering youngster."

"I'm sorry, my Lord. There was nothing new and I thought not to waste your time." The scholar bowed low again.

"I will decide what wastes my time, not you."

"Yes my Lord Duke. I assure you, I am doing all I can to uncover the secrets to the ancient weapons. Since we found that family history that referenced the Brotherhood of the Throne, I've had no luck finding any living relatives. It seems that the old man who died of the fever truly was the last of his line. None of the interviews with his neighbors has turned up anything of interest. As I indicated previously, the weapons that have been collected all seem to date from the time of King Wolde to about the time of King Marto."

"And you think that there is some significance to this?"

"I must do more research, my Lord, but it seems that all these weapons were forged before the Church of the One-God was present in Soule."

Thorold nodded at the scholar. "Made for followers of the old gods, yes, that fits. Especially since a few of these weapons have been found in the hands of Aruntian witches." And one of the oldest weapons they'd found was the knife he himself had taken from a witch.

"Exactly so, my Lord."

When Fridrick sighed with relief, Thorold smiled at him. "That was not so tedious, was it Master Fridrick?"

"No my Lord Duke. I will not send a servant in my stead again." Fridrick bowed to him and backed away.

"Good." Thorold waited until the scholar was almost to the door. "That boy you sent, who is he?"

Fridrick looked up quickly. "He is my niece's son, my Lord."

"As a reminder to you of your failure he is now my indentured servant," Thorold said.

Fridrick closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped.

"I will, of course, allow him to serve you for as long as it pleases me."

Fridrick bowed his head. "And if I may ask, my Lord, what price is his bond? I must inform my niece."

"Can't you guess my good scholar? The price of the lad's bond is the solution to the puzzle of the ancient steel. Now, be off. I'm sure you are eager to get back to your tasks."

After the scholar shuffled from the room, Thorold looked at the cache of weapons on the wall behind his desk. These were among the oldest of the ancient weapons he'd been collecting. And then there was the first one he'd collected, the one hidden in his desk drawer. He opened the drawer and flicked the catch to release the false bottom. He idly traced a finger over the hilt of the knife that lay in the drawer. It was very old, and magic. He'd felt that magic himself, used against him. But the knife had killed its owner effectively enough in the end. He supposed he should thank the witch, in a way. It was her knife that had started him down this path.

It was over six years ago. And though at first he'd simply wanted to find a weapon with magic that he could use, the discovery of that family history had changed his plans. If the old man's sword hadn't been of interest to him he'd never have bothered with the documents. But he needed to find out more about this Brotherhood and the significance of the ancient weapons - he had a feeling they were important. If possible, he would use them to cement his grip on the throne. With enough information, he could use this story to back his son Beldyn's claim to the throne. But if the group still existed and got in his way, he would need to destroy them.

Brenna rubbed the grit from her eyes. Brothers, but she'd slept poorly. It was early, at least for her, though she could hear the sounds of the Quarter's morning commerce outside her window - carts making the first deliveries of the day, shopkeepers greeting each other, shutters banging open against the sides of buildings. Usually she slept straight through these sounds, but not today. She'd gone to bed unusually early last night and as a result had woken up early.

Brenna had long been one of the night folk of Thieves' Quarter, sleeping until well into the afternoon in order to be rested in the small hours of the night. Thieving was best done under cover of darkness, of course, and her busiest times as a healer were also during the evening hours. People left alone with their illnesses and thoughts seemed to worsen when the sun went down. But now she needed to stay close to home, and with no requests for her healing skills last night, she'd simply scrounged a cold supper and gone to bed early.

She pulled on her cleanest breeches and shirt and quickly gathered up her dirty laundry. At least she could get her clothes washed early. She'd need to be careful, but really, who would expect her to be up and out at this hour?

Brenna twisted the breeches to wring the last bit of moisture from them. She'd been lucky. She'd arrived at Tork's laundry just as Mistress Tork had pulled open the shutters. As soon as the woman had settled into her sturdy chair by the front door, it seemed as if the whole Quarter had descended on them. But Brenna had been first inside and had been able to secure one of the big washbasins. Now she was in the process of wringing out her clothes before she took them back to her rooms to hang.

Mistress Tork had lines strung up behind her shop for drying, but Brenna wasn't going to chance using them. One time she'd hung her laundry and then left to pursue other chores. She'd returned to find that her clothing had been trampled into the ground and required another wash. What was still there, of course. Her best shirt had mysteriously disappeared. As in all things in Thieves' Quarter, even the simple act of doing laundry had risks.

Brenna flattened the breeches on top of the rest of her damp clothes and scooped them into her arms. She trudged past the lines of customers waiting to use the washbasins and squeezed between two stout women carrying heaps of bed linens. Brenna glanced up and looked directly into the brown eyes of a young woman. The young woman's face paled and her eyes went glassy and lifeless. Startled, Brenna stopped.

"Are you all right Mistress?" Impossibly blue lips formed the words.

"I, uh ..." Brenna groped for words as she tried to understand what was happening. Had a dead woman just spoken to her? But she'd been the picture of health just a moment ago.

"Keep moving," someone said and Brenna felt a push from behind. She blinked. Now the young woman's face glowed with health.

"Do I know you?" Brenna asked, terrified that the woman's face would change again - that she'd be looking once more at a death mask, pale and lifeless.

"No, I don't believe so." The reply was soft and hesitant.

To Brenna's surprise the woman dipped her head in a bow. Near her own age, her long brown hair was pulled back with a string. She lifted her head and looked at Brenna with worried eyes.

"I've just arrived in town. I'm hoping to get the worst of my travels out of my clothing."

Brenna was shoved from behind and then she was past the young woman. She craned her neck and glimpsed her in the throng by the washtubs. What was going on? She knew what she'd seen. As a healer Brenna had seen her share of death and that's what she'd seen on this woman's face - death. But she'd never experienced this before. The girl was obviously healthy. Brenna shivered. So why had she seen her lifeless face?

Confused and worried Brenna hurried back to her rooms. She hadn't seen anything. She couldn't have. She trudged up the stairs to her room and eased inside. There was nothing to see. The young woman was very much alive. What's more, she looked to be in perfect health. Brenna hung two wet shirts on the pegs by the door. She wasn't going to spend any more time thinking about it - right now she would finish hanging up her wet laundry.

Brenna paced her room, frustrated that she was imprisoned in her own home. She'd always been proud of her rooms and happy to have them as a refuge from the Quarter. Not now, though.

She peeked out the window. The streets were dark and the shop keepers had all packed up and gone home for the day. Now the residents who gave Thieves' Quarter its name were starting to take to the streets. Pearl and Rosetta, a couple of whores from the Red Dragon strolled arm in arm in front of the brothel, advertising their wares. Brenna traded her healing skills for information they learned from their clients.

Over by the wine seller's shop one of Eryl's young runners slipped into the alley, no doubt looking to lift a skin or two of wine and earn some respect from the older lads. She'd done much the same more than a few times.

She stepped back from the window and dropped into the chair. It had seemed so easy when she'd told Kane and Pater to leave her alone, but after only a few days of inactivity she wanted to jump out of her own skin.

Mistress Dudding had heard that word about Brenna's scrape with the Kingsguard and the church had traveled quickly. Since no one in the Quarter wanted to chance a run-in with either one of those powers, her healer trade had dried up. She had to get out. She stood up and grabbed her cloak.

An hour later, Brenna entered the kitchen of the Wheat Sheaf tavern. At least three people had trailed her when she left her rooms and it had taken some time and effort to lose them in the twisting back alleys and dead end streets of the Quarter. Her clothes were a little disheveled after climbing two fences and a tree, but she'd lost the last man more than twenty minutes ago. They had to be Brotherhood - Kane Rowse knew where she lived and no doubt had assigned them to follow her for her protection. Well, she didn't need their protection, hadn't she told him that? She knew how to be careful, how to take care of herself.

The Wheat Sheaf, the most respectable inn in the Quarter, was Eryl's second headquarters. The Sheaf was where Eryl usually started his evenings. He met with prospective clients here before arranging for quieter, more private discussions later at the Crooked Dog. Brenna wanted to find out exactly what Eryl knew about the Captain of the Kingsguard.

"Heya, Mistress Mundy." Brenna lifted a hand in greeting.

The gray-haired woman held the end of a thick wooden spoon and stirred a large pot of stew by the fire.

"Rabbit or mutton today?" Brenna asked. The stew at the Sheaf was legendary in the Quarter. It came in two versions and everyone had their favourite.

"Brenna, dear." The large woman wiped her hands on her apron and enveloped Brenna in a huge hug. "I haven't seen you for a while." She lowered her voice. "I heard about you and the Guard. You're all right?"

"I'm fine," Brenna said. "I need to stay out of sight as much as I can, though." Brenna leaned over the pot and sniffed. "Mutton, yum."

"Ah, that's why you came in the kitchen door," Mistress Mundy said. "I was surprised to hear Eryl came through for you. Lucky for him he did. He'd not be welcome here otherwise. And I told him just that."

Brenna laughed. "I think Eryl surprised himself. I am short on coin just now though. Do you have any discreet customers looking for a healer?"

"I'm sorry, dear," Mistress Mundy said. "But you seemed to have enough of your own troubles, and Eryl said you planned on keeping out of sight, and I wasn't sure if you were even going to stay in town, I, er..." The woman twisted her apron in a knot before continuing. "Well, there was this lass as said she had healer training, so I've been sending all that trade to her. I am sorry, Brenna."

"Not to worry," Brenna said. "It's good to know a healer is looking after the people of Thieves' Quarter, even if it's not me." And probably for the best, what with the church looking for her. But she'd be out of coin soon if she couldn't make any money.

"Is Eryl here?" Brenna asked.

"Aye, he's in that small private room he likes to commandeer. Here." Mistress Mundy took a ladle from beside the fire pit, scooped out a portion of stew and plopped it into a nearby bowl. "Have some stew. And no payment needed, on account I've been sending your business away and all. Just don't tell anyone I'm letting you eat free. Especially not Eryl."

"Thanks, Mistress." Brenna took the bowl from her and grabbed a spoon and mug from the table near the door to the main tavern room. Time to talk to Eryl. She headed down the hall to the room where he usually held court and pushed open the door.

Five heads turned her way as she placed her stew and empty mug on a scarred oak table.

"So, what news since we last spoke, Eryl?" Brenna asked. She pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Brenna," Eryl said. "I thought you were going to stay out of sight?"

Besides Eryl and his two thick-necked bodyguards, Larkly and Millen, the room contained a couple of younger lads Eryl let hang around. He nodded at the two younger boys, who then scrambled out of the room.

Brenna grabbed the pitcher of ale on the table and poured herself a mug.

"I got tired of staring at the same four walls." Brenna scooped up a spoonful of stew and blew on it. "Even seeing you seemed better than more of that." She and Eryl had been bedmates for almost two years and sometimes she could hardly believe it herself. When she'd been new to the city, Eryl had provided her with protection. Sharing his bed had seemed a very small price to pay. Looking back, she still thought so.

She hadn't grown up with the view that a tumble without marriage was a sin against the One-God, or that she was somehow evil and wanton if she wasn't chaste. Her mother had taught her a practicality that was almost ruthless - you traded what you had for what you needed. There was no shame in a trade freely made, no matter what that trade might be. Brenna had always felt guilty about stealing, but she tried to balance it out with her healing.

"Yeah, well, you need to be careful," Eryl said. "Someone might be watching me."

Eryl's expression was serious and for a moment Brenna felt guilty. She might be putting him at risk just by being here. But it was his fault. His commission had started it all. And Eryl was good at looking after himself. That was one thing she could count on. But he was right that someone, most likely the church, could be watching him. She'd need to be extra vigilant when she left.

"I need to know about Master Arlott," Brenna said. "I've got who knows how many people looking for me, including the church. I need as much information as I can get if I want to keep breathing."

"I told you all I know," Eryl said.

"But you've seen him since. You must know more."

A quick nod from Eryl sent Larkly and Millen out of the room, one through each of the two doors. "They'll signal if there's trouble," Eryl said when they were alone. He met her gaze and leaned back in his chair. "Arlott hasn't been back since he gave me your bond."

He was lying. She'd always been able to read him. "I know you've seen him," she said. "I need to know if he asked about anything else. Was he looking for information on anyone or anything other than the weapons?"

"Like what?"

"The church," Brenna stated flatly. "He warned me two days ago that the church, and in particular the High Bishop, didn't look kindly on anyone trying to steal from them."

"Arlott came to see you?" Eryl looked guilty. "Bren, did he threaten you? I promise I'll get him if he did."

"And why would you feel responsible if he did threaten me?" When she looked over at him, Eryl dropped his eyes to the table and slumped in his chair. "No wonder we went our separate ways." She shook her head in disgust. "I just can't trust you. You told him where to find me, didn't you?"

"No, but I told him you were a healer. He seemed safe enough." Eryl shrugged and looked back up at her. "And he'd paid up two hundred crowns for you. I really didn't think he meant any harm."

"No, I guess not. Besides, he would have found me eventually. He's got the men behind him for it."

"What do you mean?" Eryl asked.

"Arlott is the Captain of the Kingsguard," Brenna said. Eryl's eyes widened and she smiled. "Kane Rowse is his real name."

"Bren, I never would have told him where to find you if I'd known. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said. "Think back to when you paid my bond and met me at the castle. Did you take note of the Kingsguard who brought me out?"

"By the gods, you're right." Eryl said. "What's he want with you?"

"I know what he thinks he wants with me. It's safer if you don't know," Brenna said. And it was safer for her if Eryl didn't know about the Brotherhood. Or that she'd been caught because the knife had glowed when she'd picked it up.

"What about the knife?" Brenna asked. "How much information did he have about it? Has he asked you to find other knives like it?" She remembered how Kane's sword had glowed under her hand. "Or swords. Anything you can tell me might help."

Eryl picked up the pitcher of ale and refilled both their mugs.

"Arlott had the information about the knife. Said he wanted to commission its theft," Eryl said. "He told me his patron was looking for a long-term arrangement. He also wanted to know about any other old weapons I came across. I was to tell him where they were and he'd let me know which ones he wanted." Eryl looked at her. "I wondered why he didn't just nab all the weapons and get rid of the ones he didn't want. Much safer than getting a look at them before hand."

"A matter of ownership, maybe," Brenna said. "It's strange enough that the Captain of the Kingsguard has commissioned any theft. I suppose he can't steal from just anyone. Maybe he feels this patron of his has more right to the weapon than the church?" Would Kane be able to identify which weapons belonged to the Brotherhood? He'd said they were different than normal weapons - stronger.

"Or maybe the church stole the knife in the first place," Eryl added.

"That's possible," Brenna replied. "And that's all you know?" At Eryl's nod she sighed. It wasn't much, but it was more than she'd known before.

Brenna drained her mug as Eryl got up to knock once on each door. Larkly and Millen re-entered the room.

"So, Brenna," Millen said. "There's a new healer at the Sheaf. How do ye like the competition?" He loomed over her, his rank breath making her nose twitch.

"If she wants to dose you, Millen, then I wish her all the luck in the world," Brenna replied.

"She's here now if you'd like to meet her," Eryl said and leaned back in his chair. "She's set certain days and times when she's available for those who need healing. I think you should meet her, Brenna. You two have more in common than just healing." At her arched brow, he continued. "The two of you are like as two peas in a pod, 'cept for her manners."

Millen grinned. "Yeah, she got manners and you don't."

Brenna scowled at him. "All right. I'll meet her."

"I'll go get her," Larkly said and left the room.

Brenna had never had much contact with healers other than her mother. Although they all used the same herbs and potions, healers who worked in the reputable parts of the city would not appreciate her company. Those who had been Collegium trained had no trace of witch tainting them.

Brenna looked up when the door opened - and gasped. It was the girl she'd seen at the laundry. Once again she saw the other woman's face pale and her brown eyes go blank and lifeless. Brenna blinked and the appearance of death vanished. A healthy young woman stood before her, brown eyes worried.

"You," Brenna said as the girl came forward. "I saw you earlier." She felt her stomach flip, her mutton stew now sitting like a hard lump in her gut.

"Yes, I remember Mistress," the other woman said, the concern in her voice apparent. "I'm Sabine Werrett."

"Brenna Lightfingers." Brenna grasped the girl's hand, thankful to find it warm and alive. Sabine's face continued to radiate health and Brenna relaxed a little.

Sabine sat down and glanced nervously at Eryl, Larkly and Millen, who all watched intently. Then she leaned in close to Brenna. "Did you have a vision?" she whispered as she twisted her hands together. "If it was something about me, might I please hear it?"

Brenna started to shake her head but stopped when she looked at Sabine's face. The other woman was terrified. "What makes you ask that?"

"Your eyes, of course, Mistress," Sabine said so softly that Brenna had to lean in closer to hear her. "You have Seer's eyes, and the truest pairing, except for blue and green." Sabine lowered her voice even more. "Although I can tell that you've spelled them, so I'll not give you away."

Her mother's prayer, Brenna thought, the one that helped her hide her eyes. Sabine could see through it, just like Kane could. Was Sabine right about her eyes? Seer's eyes, she'd called them. Did that mean that what she'd seen – Sabine dying – was truly going to happen?

"You must leave," Brenna said quietly. "You're in great danger here in Kingsreach. Go back home."

The girl swallowed and clutched Brenna's hand. Would she do as Brenna asked? She had to, or something terrible would happen to her. Brenna's heart raced. Why was she so certain of that?

"I'll leave immediately, Mistress," Sabine said and stood up. "I'll just go pack my things."

Brenna leaned back in her chair, relieved. She caught Eryl's puzzled look and shook her head.

Sabine stopped by the door and turned back to Brenna. "I'm from Cottle Village in the shadow of the Seven Sisters, Mistress, in the north of Aruntun," she said. "If you find yourself back home, come to Cottle. My family would be pleased to host you." Then she was out the door.

Brenna let out a shaky breath. She could still picture Sabine's face, devoid of life. She hoped Sabine was wrong about this being a vision, wrong about her having Seer's eyes. Brenna had never had anything like a vision before, why would it start now? But she'd never before had a knife glow when she touched it either. Was this ability tied up with Kane Rowse and the Brotherhood?

"Why'd ye have to go and scare the poor lass like that," Millen said. "And what right do ye have to tell her to go home?"

Brenna looked up at him. She was still shaken by what she'd seen when she'd looked at Sabine. "No right at all Millen, no right at all." But she fervently hoped the other woman did leave, at once.

"Why'd ye do it, then?" Millen said. "Was it 'cause she was takin' your healin' trade?"

Brenna shook her head and dropped her gaze to the table. She ignored Millen's question and instead poured herself another mug of ale, trying to keep her hand from shaking. What was happening to her? And what might happen next?

"Pah," Millen said. "I never could figure why ye put up with her, Eryl." Millen leaned back in his chair and the room fell silent.

Brenna picked up her mug and sipped the now flat ale. She knew she should head home, but after her strange experience with Sabine, she just couldn't face being alone right now. She didn't want any of this - not the glowing old steel - not the attention of the church of the One-God - not the Brotherhood and the prophecy - and especially not visions of people dead and dying. She wanted her old life back. It had its own dangers, of course, but she knew those dangers, knew how to avoid them. If only she hadn't agreed to steal that gods forsaken knife from the priest.

A few hours later, just after midnight, a loud whisper and a swift knock on the door brought everyone to their feet. Millen and Larkly flanked the door as it opened to reveal one of the younger lads who had been in the room earlier.

He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. "Gotta get out," the boy said. "The new healer's been killed and the Guard's on its way."

Brenna jumped up and grabbed the boy by the shoulders. "What do you mean, the new healer's been killed? Where is she?"

"The back room behind the bar."

Brenna yanked the door open and headed down the hallway, shouldering her way past fleeing patrons.

The back room was chaos – some patrons huddled in a clump while others tried to edge their way towards the doors.

In the middle of the crowd, Mistress Mundy knelt beside the young healer, her face solemn. "Brenna, over here. See if you can't do something for the poor lass."

The two inn guardsman Brenna stepped past held an old man between them. He wore a rough cloak and ragged breeches and muttered to himself. Fresh blood on his cloak glistened in the candlelight. Something about him seemed odd but Brenna couldn't spare the time to look more closely. She gave him a wide berth and knelt by Sabine.

The knife, still in the girl, was buried all the way up to the hilt, just under her left rib. Brenna's breath caught when she saw the bubbles of blood on the girls' lips. Her lung was punctured, and deeply from the look of it.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Sabine's voice was a gurgling whisper.

"I'm so sorry, Sabine. There's nothing I can do. Do you want something for the pain?" Brenna felt tears prick her eyes as she watched the girl struggle for breath.

"It doesn't hurt much. I thought it would, but it doesn't." Brenna had to lean closer in order to hear her. "Please let my family know what's become of me. They'll worry so if they don't get word." Her sad smile turned into a grimace of pain. "They're in Cottle, remember."

"I remember," Brenna said. Tears trailed down her cheek and she wiped her eyes with her sleeve as Sabine's breathing became more labored. Then the wheezing stopped and just like in her vision, Sabine's face paled and the life faded from her eyes. Brenna brushed a hand across the dead girl's face, closing her eyes.

"She's gone?" Mistress Mundy leaned over her.

Brenna nodded and she felt the older woman's hand on her shoulder.

"Poor thing," Mistress Mundy said. "She was a sweet lass, that one. I'm sorry, Brenna. I know you did what you could."

"But it wasn't enough," Brenna said. She should have made sure Sabine left the inn right away. Then she wouldn't have had to watch the girl die.

"Come on, love." Mistress Mundy helped her up. "I think we both could use a good solid drink to warm us up."

Brenna let Mistress Mundy guide her away from Sabine's body. As they moved past the prisoner he looked straight at Brenna.

"A witch, another witch!" he yelled. "Death to all witches," the priest said. "They work evil against the One-God!" The Guards jerked him back and his voice lowered to a mutter as Brenna and Mistress Mundy left the room.

Again, something nagged at her, something about the way he looked or the smell of his breath, but she let Mistress Mundy steer her into the kitchen to a seat by the fire. She needed the warmth to ward off the sudden chill she felt.

Brenna sipped her second brandy, welcoming the fuzziness it brought. She knew she shouldn't drink any more - between the ale she'd shared with Eryl and the two brandies Mistress Mundy had poured her she was feeling the effects. The last thing she needed right now was to let her guard down, but she kept seeing Sabine's face, her life fading from her, just like in her vision. Her hands trembled when she picked up her glass for another sip.

seven

Kane gently let the woman's head settle back on the floor and stood up. It wasn't her. He dragged a shaky hand across his eyes and exhaled. As the tension drained from his shoulders he looked back down at the young woman's body. She had brown hair, brown eyes, and was apparently a healer. And Dasid's report said Brenna had been seen inside this very tavern tonight. This poor woman's death was more than a coincidence.

"Do we know who she is?" he asked the Kingsguard. The man had been first on the scene and was the only other person in the room.

"Not yet, Captain," the guard said. "From what we know so far, she'd been in the city for only a few days."

"Do we know much of the one who knifed her?"

"We haven't been able to get any sense out of him. It's peculiar. He had time to get away but didn't. According to witnesses, once he knifed the girl he just stood over her and yelled – something about witches and the church - until the inn guards grabbed him. Apparently he quieted down until he saw the other healer, then he started up again. He's been sent to a cell back in the keep."

"And the other healer, she's safe?"

The guard nodded. Kane closed his eyes, just for a moment, in relief. Thank the gods! He should have made Brenna come with him when he'd had the chance, should have forced her ... He shook his head - that would never work - he didn't see how the prophecy could be fulfilled by force. But she could have been lost and it would have been his failure.

"Is she still here?" Kane asked.

"She's in the kitchen with the owner of the inn." The guard kept his voice low. "She tried to help the young lass but t'were too late by then."

"Thank you. We'll need to do something about what the killer said." Kane grimaced as he rubbed his tired eyes with his hand. "The last thing the city needs is a religious fanatic stirring things up. Officially we'll say that the healer couldn't cure his pox and he, half mad with disease, took it out on her," Kane said. "Which way to the kitchen?"

"Through the door on the other side of the bar and then to the back. The owner is a Mistress Mundy."

"All right. Let them in to clean up." He turned and headed for the kitchen.

Kane entered the kitchen of the Wheat Sheaf and looked around. He caught the eye of the inn guard, a retired Kingsguard, and nodded. The man had served under Uncle Feiren and was also a member of the Brotherhood. He could be trusted.

Kane's gaze swept past the guard to the large round table by the fire. Brenna was slumped over it, her hand curled around a half full glass. When she tilted her face, he could see his own fatigue mirrored there, etched in the lines around her eyes.

"Kane?" Brenna said.

She blinked up at him and he pulled up a chair beside her and sat down.

"Right here, Brenna," Kane said. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head and he felt his shoulders relax. He glanced away and met the gaze of a large woman in a white apron. She stood by a window on the other side of the kitchen, the wooden shutters closed and barred from the inside.

"Mistress Mundy?"

"That's right." Her eyes flicked from Kane to Brenna. "And this is my inn." She crossed the room to stand by Brenna.

"I am Captain Kane Rowse. We still need to ask some questions about what happened tonight."

The older woman, with a puzzled look that moved from Brenna to him, nodded. "Brenna is that fine with you?" Mistress Mundy asked. She reached down and squeezed Brenna's shoulder.

"Yes, let's get it over with." Brenna took one last sip from her glass before she straightened up.

"So, Mistress Mundy," Kane said. "You allowed the healer to use one of your rooms?" he asked.

"Yes, Captain. She came by a few days ago, and asked could she use my inn to pick up some healing trade. I let her use the same room as Brenna." Mistress Mundy swallowed and looked down. "I didn't see no harm, since I'd heard Brenna might not be around much, considering."

"Considering what?" he asked.

"Well, you know, considering she'd been caught."

"Ah, that." He looked over at Brenna, who simply stared down at the table. "What else did she say?"

"Told me her name," Mistress Mundy continued. "Sabine, she said, and that she was from Aruntun." Mistress Mundy looked up at him. "She was journeying. She wanted to see some of Soule before settling down as her village healer."

"And she'd only been here a few times?"

"Today was her third night healing," Mistress Mundy said. "She was planning on heading to Fallad next."

Kane turned to Brenna. "Is there anything you can add that I should know?"

"Is it safe to speak?" Brenna said. Her look took in the inn guard and the proprietress.

Kane nodded. "A Brother and former Kingsguard." He eyed the inn owner for a moment. "Mistress Mundy, would you excuse us for a moment?"

"No," Mistress Mundy said. "And I don't appreciate your assumption that my guard will be loyal to you over me." She stood up tall and glared first at him and then at the guard.

"Fair enough," Kane said. "But his loyalty is not to me. It's to a much older pledge of honor. You may stay, Mistress, since I think we all have the same goal in this - Brenna's safety."

Mistress Mundy looked startled at this. "Brenna? What does this have to do with Brenna?"

"I don't think it was a coincidence that a healer matching Brenna's description was slain here, where it's known in the Quarter that she picks up trade." When he met Brenna's eyes he saw that she'd come to the same conclusion. And she was afraid. Good - he was afraid too.

"I met her earlier," Brenna said quietly. "Tonight, when we were in the small room, someone thought it would be amusing to bring her in to meet me. I guess they were hoping for a fight or something." She glanced nervously at him and he nodded encouragingly.

"She was just a nice country girl. Not used to the city at all." Brenna shuddered and looked away. "She said her name was Sabine Werrett, and that she was from Cottle in Aruntun. She asked me to visit if I found myself back home. She assumed I was from Aruntun, which I thought was odd. We didn't talk the same at all. Someone thought we looked very alike, though." Brenna slumped down in her chair. "Enough to kill her, anyway. She died because of me."

Kane watched as she traced the rim of her glass with one finger. He was sorry the young woman had died. She hadn't deserved it. It was her bad luck, or the work of the gods, who knew? He was just thankful that it had not been Brenna. He'd have to take better care in the future, whether she liked it or not.

"Wait. There's something else." Brenna jumped up to pace the room. "Of course, no wonder." She turned to him. "I knew there was something about the man who killed her. I saw him. He was still in the room when I went to try to help her."

"And?"

"He was drugged. I'm sure. He had all the symptoms; slurred speech, so focused on a task that he didn't even try to escape."

Kane nodded. "Then he'll wake up clear-headed in the morning."

"No, he won't." Brenna shook her head. "I'd say he's had a large amount of balendium. It's a very dangerous drug. In small doses it's a powerful pain reliever, but a large amount makes one open to suggestions. They can still function, at least for a while, and if used to reinforce an already deeply held belief ..." Her voice trailed away.

Kane nodded. "Like belief in the One-God. You could dose someone, set them a task then send them out to accomplish it."

"Exactly. Like describing a healer with brown hair and brown eyes and telling him she can be found at the Sheaf."

"You said he wouldn't wake up clear-headed," Kane said. "Does that mean that the effects last longer?"

"You could say that," Brenna said in a flat voice. "I said it was a dangerous drug. If he's had as much balendium as I suspect, once he goes to sleep he won't wake up, ever. Not unless he gets the antidote, and soon."

"Can you make it? The antidote?" Kane asked.

Brenna nodded.

"How much time do you need?" If the prisoner died they had nothing to link this murder to the church. Even with him the link was tenuous; the ravings of an apparent madman.

"It won't take much time," Brenna said. "I have what I need but it means getting into my rooms right away. If someone's out to kill me I'd rather not go home."

Kane couldn't argue with her on that. "Tell me what you need me to do."

"How fast can you wake a Brother?"

It was almost dawn before Kane returned to his room at the barracks.

He'd sent Brothers out to wake up Pater and bring him to the inn. After a quick conversation with Brenna, Pater had gone to her room at the seamstress' shop. Kane had no idea how the old man had done it, but Pater had returned in less than an hour with all of Brenna's healer supplies, as well as some books she'd asked for. All without a single light showing at the shop.

Kane had stayed with Brenna at the Wheat Sheaf while she brewed a foul smelling concoction. He wasn't sure Mistress Mundy's kitchen was going to smell good any time soon, but the woman hadn't complained. Once Brenna was finished he'd sent the antidote off with a guard with instructions to make sure the prisoner drank it all – by force if they had to.

His official report would be that a disgruntled customer had murdered a healer from the Quarter. If it was assumed that the murdered girl was Brenna, then so much the better.

Even with the prisoner alive there wasn't enough evidence to accuse the church of this murder, but High Bishop Valden would realize that Kane knew something so he'd need to be very careful.

The church was turning out to be far more active and deadly than Kane had ever suspected - they were searching out old steel and now they'd engineered a murder. It made him wonder what other crimes the church had committed in the past. If their target tonight had been anyone other than the Caller, he wouldn't have had any reason to doubt the straightforward explanation.

Finally, Brenna had allowed him to take her somewhere safe and when she was settled at his uncle Feiren's, he'd left for his own bed.

Kane nodded to the sentry and pushed open the door to the barracks. Lately he'd become all too familiar with navigating the hallways in the dark. Once in his rooms he stripped and climbed into bed, trying to relax despite the events of the past few hours. Ever since he'd met Brenna Lightfingers he'd been short on sleep. If he were lucky he'd get just enough to take the edge off before he was due in the king's council chamber.

Thorold sat back as the High Bishop gleefully recounted the details surrounding his latest victory.

"Not even one full week since the church was so defamed by an attempted theft and murder of one of its priests," High Bishop Valden said. "And already we've avenged ourselves. The thief is dead."

"Yes, well, congratulations." Thorold had his doubts. It seemed too easy. The thief had enough contacts in Thieves Quarter to have a significant bond paid in full one day after being caught. That meant she'd survived the Quarter long enough to either make friends or acquire enough favours to call in. And despite being caught, by all accounts she was a very skilled thief. She'd known exactly which room the priest would be in and had gained entry into that second floor room from a regularly patrolled courtyard. The actions of the healer who had been killed seemed naïve in comparison. Wouldn't someone familiar with the Quarter realize that some would name her witch? Why set regular days to ply a trade that many looked on with suspicion? It did not make sense to him. But as long as this had no bearing on his plans, he had no objections.

"And you are absolutely certain that this cannot be tied to you or the church in any meaningful way?" Thorold asked.

"Yes, yes." Valden waved a hand dismissively. "The man we recruited to do this will be seen as a fanatic, a madman, I can assure you. I understand he's already been locked up and has yet to speak a coherent sentence. And he won't, ever, my men have made certain of that."

"Good." Thorold nodded. He detested loose ends.

Brenna woke slowly. She was groggy and tired and didn't want to wake up. She stretched and settled back into the soft bed and crisp sheets. Startled, she sat up, eyes wide open. Where was she? And then she remembered. Last night an innocent woman had been killed because she'd been mistaken for her and now she was the guest of Feiren Rowse and the Brotherhood. She sighed. She wasn't going to get any more sleep now. She tugged the covers off and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Wide awake now, she surveyed the room with a thief's practiced eye. The bed itself, while well-made and of good quality wood, wasn't unusually expensive. She pushed a hand into the mattress. But the mattress was a luxuriously thick down fill with a smooth and finely made cotton covering. The bedding was even better quality. Brenna had rarely felt such fine fabric and certainly had never slept on anything like it - the mattress and bedding were probably worth far more than the bed.

It was the same with the dresser, desk and chair. All were finely made, but more sturdy and serviceable than opulent. It was the smaller things that showed the expense - the finely crafted porcelain pitcher and washbasin - the artwork that hung on two walls - the fabric of the curtains that covered the room's two small windows.

She left the bed and padded to the window. She caressed the tightly woven fabric of the curtains before peeling it back to look at the glass window panes. Likely the very finest money could buy - there were no telltale bubbles and the glass was thin and smooth without any distortions. And this was just a guest room - the rooms used by the family would have even finer treasures.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Yes?"

"If it please ye Mistress, breakfast is in the dining room. And the Master would like to know if ye need any extra clothes or such?" Brenna couldn't imagine what the maid thought of her showing up here and possibly requiring clothes, but there was absolutely no censure in the voice coming through the door. Then again, a man like Feiren Rowse would choose his servants with care, no doubt a requirement during his tenure as Captain of the Kingsguard that served him well for the Brotherhood.

"Um, no thanks," she replied. "I'm fine, thank you. Please let Master Rowse know I'll be down shortly."

Brenna hesitated outside the door to the dining room. Feiren Rowse sat at a cloth-covered dining table, facing the door and she could only see the back of the head of the man he was talking to. Was he Brotherhood as well or should she stay hidden? She stepped back from the door, unsure. But the maid had told her to go to the dining room. She hovered in the doorway. Feiren Rowse spotted her.

"Brenna, very good to see you," Feiren said. "I hope the room was comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you," Brenna replied. She took a step into the room and then the other man turned towards her and with relief, she recognized him.

"Pater!" Brenna hugged him. "It's good to see you!" She hadn't been aware how tense she'd been until she relaxed. Somehow Pater being here made her feel safe.

"Good to see ye too, lass," Pater said. "Have ye managed to stay out of trouble since I brought ye yer things last night?"

"I think so," Brenna said. "And I'm sorry about waking you up. I couldn't think of anyone else I could trust to do that. "

"I'm happy ye thought of me, lass," Pater said and they both sat down.

Brenna turned to Feiren Rowse. "Thank you," she said. "For inviting Pater."

"I thought a friendly face would help," Feiren said. "You've been through a lot, after all. Besides, since we need everyone to believe that you're dead, Pater can pick up anything else you might want from your room and settle up with your landlady. Is there anything that was missed last night that you'd like to have?"

Brenna took a slice of bread and some cheese from a platter in the center of the table.

"There's not much I want," she said. "I have my most important books and notes already, but it would be nice to get the rest. Maybe we could simply ask Mistress Dudding to sell them to Eryl? He could send everything to me here." Brenna slathered a slice of bread with butter and topped it with cheese before she took a bite.

"I'll get in touch with the lad as well, Mistress Dudding," Pater said. "Should be able to get yer stuff in the next day or so."

Brenna sighed. So that was it. She was dead as far as Thieves Quarter was concerned. It would be a long time before she could go back to her old life, if ever. She hated to give up her network of informants, but they were the very last people she wanted to know she still lived. They earned their coin selling secrets such as this. Too many people already knew she was still alive. She could trust Eryl with this, but his gang? Millen hated her anyway - no doubt he'd be happy to sell her out. Most of the time in the Quarter loyalty only went as far as one's purse.

"I'll be off then," Pater said. "Can't be away from my cart too long. It'd look odd, even with me bein' Brenna's friend and all. And I'll need to hunt down that scoundrel Eryl as soon as possible."

"Let me know if you need more funds," Feiren said.

"That I will," Pater said. He gave Brenna's shoulder a quick squeeze and then left.

Brenna slathered another piece of bread with butter while Feiren poured himself a cup of tea.

"I'm sure you must have a lot of questions," Feiren said. "Feel free to ask me anything. We also have many old texts and documents about the Brotherhood." At her startled glance, he shrugged. "We are an order committed to safeguarding the bloodline of King Wolde. Our own records are rather meticulous."

Brenna nodded. "All right, first question. How is it that a former Captain of the Kingsguard dines with a fruit seller from Thieves Quarter?"

"As I said, the Brotherhood keeps meticulous records, including our own bloodlines," Feiren said. "The original members of the Brotherhood came from all walks of life, as they do now. However, in the past two thousand years, a single family may have risen to the upper reaches of society and fallen back to poverty many, many times. For the last five or six generations my family have for the most part been soldiers, but it wasn't always the case. That is very recent history when you can trace your family back eighty or one hundred generations. It's very possible that fifty generations ago, my family served on Pater's family's estate. My ancestors were mostly labourers and servants at that time. The Brotherhood takes the long term view of things."

"Yes," Brenna said. "You've been waiting for over two thousand years."

"It means that we don't set much stock on someone's current status and prosperity. To those of us who take it, the Brotherhood oath is much more meaningful than a man's position in society."

Brenna sipped her tea in thought. "Does anyone know about the Brotherhood other than its members? I mean, what if you don't want to join?"

"It's hereditary - most often a son or nephew, maybe a daughter, is brought in."

"A daughter? Are women allowed into the Brotherhood?" Brenna had simply assumed that only men could become members of the Brotherhood.

"Originally, there were no women," Feiren said. "I believe the first woman accepted into the Brotherhood was about one thousand years ago. Her father insisted that she was a much better candidate than his son, and it was either lose that family's allegiance, or allow her in. Years later she became the first woman to lead the Brotherhood. Ever since, we've had women, although they are still outnumbered."

Brenna nodded. Most women would not have time. They were too busy raising children, looking after home and husband, and likely as not working alongside their men in some trade or other. "What about times when a whole family just, well, dies out?"

"That has happened, of course," Feiren said. "Then the Brotherhood tries to acquire the family histories. Unfortunately, we haven't always been successful – we think that's how the old steel weapons change hands. We've been able to recover some of them, and I'm happy to say we've not heard of a family history being discovered. But we're always watchful. Although," Feiren shrugged, "there does seem to be more movement with the old steel weapons now than there has ever been in the past. If you're finished your meal, we can move to my study. I'm sure Kayleen would like a chance to clear the table."

Feiren stood and held her chair as she rose. She followed him down a short hallway to the back of the house, where he opened a door and waited for her to precede him into the room.

She felt it as soon as she entered the room - a gentle tingle, like an itch at the back of her head. Feiren gestured to a chair by the desk and she sat down and automatically searched the room for the origin of her itch.

The room was large and had a huge window that overlooked an enclosed yard. A door to the left of the window led outside. As in her sleeping chamber, the furniture looked serviceable, but the chair that Brenna sat in was covered with a well-tanned hide that was butter soft under her hands. Another chair that matched hers was placed in front of the desk and Feiren sat in a more worn version of the chair behind the desk. A fireplace took up most of the wall opposite the window, and on the darkly paneled walls were various weapons.

Brenna's gaze focused on the weapons directly behind Feiren - the two swords and three knives were all highly polished and all, somehow, hummed. She felt Feiren's eyes on her and she looked quickly away.

"What does it do to you?" His voice was quiet, gentle almost. "The old steel. What do you feel when it's around?"

Absently Brenna smoothed a hand over the warm, rich leather of the chair. How much could she trust him? Kane had promised her safety and his uncle seemed ready to provide it, but did she really want them to know everything? If she lied and told him she felt nothing would he leave her alone? All she wanted was to go back to her old life. But that life didn't exist anymore.

She looked over at Feiren Rowse. No, he wouldn't believe her if she told him she didn't feel anything. She took a deep breath. She might as well tell him the truth. Maybe he could help her understand what was happening to her.

"It's like someone's humming a tune that I can't quite make it out," Brenna said. "I can tell where it's coming from though. I can't say how, but I know it's coming from the two swords and three knives behind you and not from any of the other weapons on the walls." Brenna gestured to the assorted weapons and shields lining the walls.

Feiren nodded and stared at her with a far away look. "And when you touch them, what happens then?"

Brenna started. Touch them? Like when she touched Kane's sword? She wasn't sure she wanted to do that. Touching Kane's sword and the priest's knife hadn't physically actually hurt her, but it had been unsettling. Did she want to do that deliberately?

"Don't worry," Feiren reassured her. "I'm not going to ask you to pick any of them up, not until we know more. My nephew and Dasid will be here later. Dasid is a bit of a historian for the Brotherhood and he's been searching through the oldest records looking for references to old steel and the Caller. So far he's found only one obscure passage that refers to a light." He leaned back in his chair. "I am curious about what happens though, what you feel from old steel."

"Well it was different both times," Brenna said. Then she stopped and really thought about it. It had felt different the two times she touched old steel.

"The knife," she continued. "The one I was trying to steal. I don't really remember feeling anything other than shock at the light. The two worst things for a thief at night are light and a witness. I got both." She paused. "The second time, in the jail cell, Kane simply grabbed my hand and put it over his on his sword. My whole body tingled. I don't remember feeling that with the knife."

"Hmm," Feiren looked at her through lowered lids. "What do you know about the Call?"

"What, oh not much. Just something I read somewhere."

"Really. Read where?" Feiren asked. He leaned forward and stared at her intently. For the first time Brenna was reminded that he was a military man, with years of command experience. She forced herself to meet his gaze calmly.

"The Brotherhood has spent the better part of two thousand years trying to stay secret," Feiren said. He leaned back in his chair. "We've spent considerable effort to acquire any and all documents and texts that reference us. I'm concerned that we've missed something. "

Brenna hesitated. She didn't want to involve Randell more than she already had. And then she had a terrible thought. What if the church already knew about him?

"I have a friend at the library at the Collegium," Brenna said. "He helped me find an old book that referenced the Brotherhood. It told of the vision of Wolde's daughter Aruntun, and the Call." She paused. "That was on the night I was followed. I was coming back from the Collegium and now I realize I may have put my friend in danger. Is there any way you can send someone to check? Maybe warn him about the church? His name is Randell."

"I'll send someone at once," Feiren said. "I'll be right back."

He left the room and Brenna sighed in relief. She didn't want to be the cause of any trouble for Randell. He'd always been good to her.

With Feiren gone, there was nothing to distract Brenna from the old weapons. They drew her. A low hum - tantalizingly familiar – urged her up and out of her chair until she stood directly in front. Hesitantly she reached out a hand. The closer her hand came to a knife the more her body tingled. She tentatively touched one finger to the hilt.

Immediately the length of the knife blazed with a blue white light. Startled, Brenna snatched her hand back and the light went out. She looked at her finger. There was no mark, nothing to indicate that her touch had caused the knife to light up and she hadn't felt any pain. She wasn't afraid that she would be harmed in any way - in fact, there had been a measure of acceptance, an almost overwhelming sense of rightness. Curious, she took a deep breath and reached for the knife again. This time she was prepared for the way her arm tingled and the knife blazed to light.

With her finger in contact with the knife Brenna examined the effect. The whole knife was illuminated as if from within. Then the illumination spread from the first knife to each of the other four old weapons until they all shone brightly.

As the light spread the humming increased and Brenna found that she could hear and feel differences in pitch and frequency. Each blade had its own distinct note and when she squinted, she could see subtle differences in coloration between them.

Brenna closed her eyes and concentrated on the note from the first knife. She was able to block out all the others until she heard only that single hum. She opened her eyes. There on the wall, only the first knife shone. She removed her hand from the knife and continued to concentrate on that sound, but the light quickly died. A movement from the doorway startled her and she looked over her shoulder into Feiren's amazed gaze.

"That was incredibly beautiful," he said. He came and stood beside her, his eyes on the weapons on the wall. "I've lived with most of these weapons all my life," he caressed the hilt of the knife that she'd touched almost reverently, "and at no time did I ever think they were capable of this." He smiled down at her. "My nephew, although eloquent, still was not able to capture the beauty. He also said he felt something when you both handled his sword. I'd very much like to try that, if you'd care to experiment later. For now," he gestured to the chair she'd vacated and moved around the desk, "I'd like to discuss some other matters. For instance, what makes you believe that Duke Thorold is the amassing the old steel weapons?"

Distracted, Brenna sat down. What had just happened with the old weapons, the old steel, as Feiren called them? She'd been able to control them, just a little. With practice would she be able to do more? And what did this mean for the prophecy? She couldn't really be the heir, could she? That she did not want. It would be far too dangerous, even with the Brotherhood on her side. No, she wanted to go back to her simple life.

"Brenna."

She looked up, startled. Feiren Rowse met her gaze, his mouth quirked up in a smile.

"I'm sorry, Feiren," she said. "I'm a little ... Sorry, what did you ask?" She'd been about to tell him that she was a little unnerved. Now why would she do that? Even if it was true, she didn't want him to know. Even that tiny piece of knowledge could potentially be used against her.

"No worries lass," Feiren said. "I was simply asking why you think Duke Thorold is collecting old steel."

"I have some contacts," Brenna said. "In the Quarter. I'm a healer by training but it's not something you want to make a full time living from in Thieves' Quarter."

"There's not enough payment?" Feiren asked.

"Well there's that," Brenna said. "Folk have little to spare, that's true. But the biggest risk is that you'll be named a witch. Just like Sabine Werrett." A woman who had done nothing except be mistaken for Brenna. She clamped down on her anger and guilt. The church was responsible, not her.

"I know," Brenna continued. "That Kingsreach is not as bad as some of the other duchies - thanks in no small part to the Kingsguard - but the church seems to be targeting people they don't like by calling them witches. It seems to me that calling someone a witch is a church-sanctioned opportunity for theft."

"How so?"

"The church has been so outspoken that it's easy to madden a crowd by accusing someone of being a witch," Brenna said. She'd thought this scenario more likely than what had happened to poor Sabine. "While the so-called witch was running for his or her life someone can move in and take their possessions. Even if the witch escaped the crowd and came back for their belongings there would be no way to recover anything. And likely no help."

Feiren nodded. "So by only occasionally healing you are able to deflect that kind of fear?"

"Yes," Brenna said. "And I've been around the Quarter for a long time. Folk know me more as a thief than a healer. But the interesting thing about healers is that sooner or later everyone needs one. Including those who trade in information."

"Ah, back to your contacts. You trade healing for information." Feiren's look held a glint of admiration. "As you said, everyone eventually needs a healer."

"Yes."

"So what do you do with all this information?" Feiren asked.

"I keep it," she replied. "I piece it together in order to see which way the bigger pieces will fall. Then I make sure I'm not in the way. And I gain favors by tipping a few folk off." She paused. "And sometimes I use the information to target specific items for my own personal gain." Brenna nervously looked down. Feiren knew she was a thief, but still, with his ties to the Kingsguard, admitting it made her uneasy.

"And Duke Thorold, he is a particular target of yours?" asked Feiren. "Kane said you'd told him you make it your business to know what Duke Thorold of Comack is up to."

Brenna nodded to him. "That's right. He's the most powerful man in Soule, even though he's not king. I find it useful to know what he's interested in. " She was not going to tell the leader of the Brotherhood that she had a personal history with Thorold or that he was her grandfather. She could imagine how that would stoke the fires of their beliefs, what with her being of the line of Comack, one of Wolde's sons. It wasn't as though it was proof she was the one prophesied about.

"Useful. Yes, I can imagine it would be." Feiren held her gaze for a second before he turned and focused on the weapons behind him. "How long has he been collecting the old steel weapons, do you think?"

Brenna ignored the question and instead leaned forward in her chair. There was some kind of affinity between Feiren Rowse and three of the weapons; a sword and two of the knives. She wasn't sure what made her think that, but even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it was true.

"The sword at the bottom and the two knives at the top, they're yours aren't they?" she asked.

Surprised, Feiren turned to look at her. "Yes. Those have been in my family for many generations." He turned back to the weapons. "These other two are recent acquisitions. I'd hoped to put the High Bishop's knife beside them. Dasid has been trying to find out what families these belonged to so we might discover what caused them to fall into non-Brotherhood hands." He shook his head. "But he's had no luck. The Brotherhood's records are very detailed when it comes to families, but records of the old steel weapons consist of simple descriptions such as, two handed long sword, or dagger with silver hilt. How did you know these were family pieces?"

"I'm not sure," she paused. "They seem to fit you, somehow. Maybe I knew from when I touched them?" Brenna shook her head. She wasn't sure she could explain it to him, wasn't sure she actually knew anything, not really.

"Something else for Dasid to delve into," Feiren said. "It seems there's much to investigate. Now, back to my question. How long has Duke Thorold been hunting old steel?"

"I first heard about Thorold's collecting over a year ago," Brenna said. "But my sources say his interest goes back about five or six years, although he kept it all within Comack. Only in the last two years has he included the rest of Soule. Apparently he's using the church to confiscate and deliver the weapons to him, both here and in Comack. Since the death of the old Duke in Fallad the church has had a pretty free hand in that duchy. I heard they've had no success in Aruntun. Does the Brotherhood have ties there?"

"That's not an easy question to answer." Feiren placed his hands flat on the table and studied them. "Our records show there should be a great many Brothers in Aruntun, and we do have a few contacts, but they are unwilling to share a lot of information with us. Some of what we do know suggests they've taken a slightly different path in the past few hundred years. We aren't even sure they've stayed true to the prophecy." He looked up at her sadly. "Aruntians don't much trust those of us from the rest of Soule you know."

"And with good reason," Brenna said. "Look at what happened to Sabine Werrett. Besides, I've heard that in Comack anyone from Aruntun is automatically accused of witchcraft and indentured. And you know what they say about that."

"No, I don't."

"Indentured in Comack means you're indentured for life."

Feiren nodded grimly. "Yes, I've heard that too. That's one of the things the Brotherhood wants you to correct once you're declared ruler."

Brenna looked up at that. Being the heir to the prophecy was too absurd for her to even consider it as a possibility. But what could that mean to Soule? If the Brotherhood could put someone else on the throne, oh not her, but someone better suited, they could right a lot of wrongs. She sighed. That was unlikely. Thorold had strengthened his grip on power in the last few years. Beldyn had been named the king's heir and the High Bishop did his bidding. It would take more than the Brotherhood to topple Thorold. She'd like to see him fall, though.

A servant came with urgent business for Feiren and Brenna was left to her own devices for the rest for the morning and well into the afternoon. She wandered the house and grounds for a while, curious about the layout and furnishings.

It was an old house, with many quirky additions made over the years. Downstairs the rooms were open and she entered them at will, but upstairs many doors were closed. She respected that and forced herself to pass by them, despite her curiosity. Curiosity was a trait that made her a good thief. She always wondered what was behind that door or tucked away in that purse. And then she'd figure out how she could see for herself.

It would have been easy to look into each room, locked or not. But she reminded herself that she was a guest. Feiren Rowse had taken her in to keep her safe, never mind that he had his own reasons for doing so.

The garden had a few plants she could dry and use in her healing, but she wasn't sure when she'd use them. It looked like she'd simply traded one prison for another. And though Feiren Rowse's home was much grander than her own two rooms she'd rather be back home in the Quarter.

By the time the spring day turned chill she'd found three secret passageways, besides the one Kane had brought her through last night. She'd also discovered a dusty, hard-to-open cubbyhole hidden in the dining room wall. A small notch carved into the wooden wall panel allowed a perfect view of the dining room table.

And that was just in the public areas of the house. She expected that behind the closed doors upstairs were even more mysteries. In all the nights she'd spent huddled over floor plans at the Collegium Library, she had never seen a house with as many secrets as this one. Brenna wondered if her hosts even knew all of them. Perhaps the records for the house were no more complete than the records of the old steel weapons.

Her inspection of the house finished, Brenna made her way back to Feiren's study. She heard male voices and knocked before she stepped inside the open door.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said.

Feiren sat behind his desk and Kane, in his dark blue Kingsguard uniform, sat in one of the chairs in front. The uniform highlighted the blue of his eyes and Brenna's breath caught when he turned to her. Startled by the intensity in his eyes, she quickly looked away. What was it about him that drew her? Was it the old steel? Even now she could feel the presence of his sword, and through it, him. She didn't want this awareness, this attraction, to the Captain of the Kingsguard.

Her gaze settled on the occupant of the other chair. He was a wiry man with a serious look and blond hair cut so short it stood on end. A jagged scar that ran from the back of his neck up and over his left ear, left a thin furrow on his scalp. He too wore the uniform of the Kingsguard.

"Brenna, come in," Feiren said. "We were just telling Dasid here a little about your situation, but now that you're here he can hear it fist hand."

"Here, sit down," Kane said. He rose and stood aside while she seated herself.

"Brenna, meet Dasid Addems," Feiren said and gestured to the man beside her. "Dasid was my second in command and now serves my nephew in the same capacity. He's also a senior member of the Brotherhood. He serves on the council and as our historian."

"Caller," Dasid said. "It's an honor." He bowed his head to her.

"Please, call me Brenna and I'll call you Dasid?" He nodded and she relaxed. She wasn't used to the formality of Dasid Addems. She hoped the rest of the Brotherhood was less proper. And then she remembered that Pater was part of the Brotherhood and she almost smiled.

Brenna turned to her host "Feiren," she said. "You have an impressive home. The Guard must be a profitable occupation." From behind her she heard Kane's deep-throated chuckle and she looked up and met his gaze.

"If it is no one has mentioned it to me," Kane said.

"I don't see how Master Rowse's finances are any of your concern Brenna," Dasid said.

Brenna glanced at him before crossing her arms and turning back to Feiren. How much would they trust her? If they really believed she was the one their Brotherhood had been waiting for they should have no objections to her questions.

Feiren tapped his fingers on the polished tabletop for a few beats before he nodded. "Actually it is Dasid," he said. "At least the Brotherhood's finances are. Correct?" Brenna nodded and he continued. "After all, we have declared that the Brotherhood believes Brenna to be the true heir to the prophecy. I think Brenna is simply trying to gauge what we are capable of."

"That's right." All day she'd wondered; what could the Brotherhood do to enforce the prophecy? The throne would not just be handed over to them. Or if she needed to escape them, how far and how long would she need to run? Feiren and Kane Rowse, current and former captains of the Kingsguard, were part of the hierarchy. No doubt the Brotherhood was well managed. Add money and men and they would be a formidable foe, if it ever came to that. She'd vowed long ago that she would not be forced into anything, by anyone. Not even if it came with a fine house and more crowns than she'd ever expected to see in her lifetime. She wanted to know what she was up against.

"So far," Brenna said. "I know very little about the Brotherhood. I want to know how far a reach you have in Soule, what kind of resources you have to support the prophecy. And especially what's next for me. Does anything in the Brotherhood's history mention what to do once the Call comes?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Kane said. "Dasid?"

Dasid shook his head.

"So," Brenna said. "The Brotherhood has no plan." She settled back in the chair to wait to see if any of the men would disagree. They didn't and she sighed.

"If you think I'm simply going to wait around here, hiding out until King Mattias dies, you're mistaken."

"I really don't think there's a need to make too much haste, Brenna," Feiren said. "The Brotherhood has been waiting for two thousand years. It will take some time to get it organized for action. Time we have, I might add. King Mattias is yet a young man."

"That all may be true," Brenna replied. "But I remind you that things have happened with much haste recently. Not seven days ago I was a simple healer and thief. Now I'm told I'm the long lost heir to the throne. A throne that you feel will be occupied for a long time, though the odds makers in the Quarter give King Mattias no more than five years. And during that time Thorold will continue to consolidate and strengthen his position, just as he's done for the past half a dozen years." Brenna sat back, a little surprised at her own words. She didn't want this role, so why had she even brought any of this up? But the Brotherhood could make a difference, even without the prophecy.

"She's right," Kane said. "The High Bishop is almost fully under Thorold's control and the King's health continues to decline. The odds makers may even be a little too generous. Now that Thorold's son Beldyn has been named heir to King Mattias, he has even more authority. And Brenna has been revealed to us now."

Feiren sighed deeply. "Yes, that she has. You think it more than coincidence?"

"I don't think the prophecy operates on coincidences," Kane replied.

Brenna leaned back in her chair with a calmness she didn't feel. She'd almost forgotten about Beldyn. Her "little brother" as he'd thought, as she'd let him think, for all those years. What had growing up in Duke Thorold's household done to him? He'd been stubborn as a boy and she'd tried to help him hide it, but it would have been impossible for him to conceal his anger for all these years. And Beldyn was the kings' heir. Thorold would not have wanted that unless he was sure of his ability to control him.

"I think," Kane continued. "That Brenna has been revealed to us with little time to spare."

Feiren sighed and rubbed a hand across his temple. "Aye. No doubt you're right and an old man like me just doesn't want to admit that if the heir to the prophecy is needed, my king has little time left on this earth."

Brenna looked from one grim face to another and shivered. Please Ush, she prayed, keep King Mattias in good health. For good measure she petitioned Jik for peace and order - if the king died soon they would be in short supply.

"Feiren," Dasid said. "I'm not sure the Brotherhood is ready for this. You know there were many at the last meeting who were less than convinced."

"Then convince them!" Brenna said. "You have to. There's no one else who can defy Thorold." And she would do almost anything to help them. She'd watched Duke Thorold kill her mother. He had to pay for that.

"The lass is right, Dasid," Feiren said. "The Brotherhood must move quickly or all could be lost."

By the time the housekeeper called them in for supper, they had the beginnings of a plan. At least the Brotherhood did. Brenna wasn't sure it was what she was going to do, but she couldn't get Beldyn out of her mind. Distracted, she followed the others into the dining room and sat down.

Brenna had thought of Beldyn over the years, of course. And when she'd heard the news that he'd been named King Mattias' heir, her heart had ached for him. Duke Thorold would never have allowed Beldyn to be named the king's heir unless he was certain the boy was under his control. Which meant that the Beldyn she knew was gone; no doubt twisted into a bitter, cruel youth by his father. But still, Brenna felt that she was overlooking something important. She couldn't shake the feeling, nor could she ignore it. No, there was something there, something she'd need to uncover. She'd had hunches like these before and they always turned out to be correct. Brenna shut her eyes tight as she saw Sabine Werrett lying dead. What if her 'hunches' were connected with Sabine's declaration that she was a Seer? She opened her eyes and deliberately put that thought from her head.

There was one thing the Brotherhood wanted her to do - learn how to fight, with real weapons. That was something she'd never considered - that they would teach a former indentured servant how to wield a weapon – and it was worth a few months of captivity. As military men, Kane and Feiren had no idea what a valuable gift they offered her. She'd seen enough tavern brawls get out of hand to know that any training could be the difference between life and death.

They'd also decided that Kane, disguised as Master Arlott, would visit Eryl. Brenna's information network would be handed over to the master thief in exchange for his cooperation. Eryl would find the situation irresistible - the Captain of the Kingsguard asking for his help. Brenna knew Eryl could be counted on to keep his head down and his mouth shut, something she wasn't yet sure Kane could do. Thankfully Kane agreed to let Eryl continue to ply his trade. For his part, Kane had promised to do what he could if the Guard caught up to Eryl.

A plate of food was set down in front of her and she ate, but once the plate was removed Brenna couldn't have said what had been served. The three men had kept up a steady stream of conversation all through dinner, but she easily tuned it out - names of people she didn't know, events that were not familiar. The dishes had been swept away by Feiren's efficient staff and Brenna stared down at the tea that sat in front of her. The silver of the spoon glinted and she picked it up.

"There's something I need to do," Brenna said. Three pairs of eyes turned towards. Suddenly nervous, she looked over at Dasid. She wasn't sure how much he knew about the reaction between her and old steel. "I need to try to figure out more about the old steel. I mean, what happened today, well, I mean ..." She trailed off, unsure of exactly what she was trying to say.

"Brenna and I had an interesting morning," Feiren said. "Brenna knew which of the old steel weapons on my office wall were family pieces and which ones weren't."

"They seemed to have a slightly different feel to them," Brenna explained. "And the light they gave off had a different hue as well, and the humming ..." She stopped talking and rose to her feet. "Here, why don't I just show you?"

Brenna picked up a lamp from the table near the door and without waiting, headed down the hall to Feiren's office. She put the lamp down on the desk and stood directly in front of the wall of weapons, her attention caught by the way the old steel glinted in lamplight. Unconsciously she raised a hand to the weapons. She felt the men crowd into the room behind her and her hand wavered.

"Here's what I did earlier." Brenna let her hand touch the hilt of the bottom knife. Same as before, that knife lit up first and then all the old steel weapons began to glow. She clearly heard the hum of the weapons and through her hand she felt the vibration of the knife she touched.

"Can you see the difference in the hues of the light coming from the Rowse weapons and the others?" she asked softly.

"Yes." The answer was close to her ear and she twisted her head and looked directly into Kane's blue gaze. He had his own sword out and as he held it closer to the others on the wall it too, began to glow. It had the same underlying hue as the other Rowse weapons. Dasid joined them, sword out, wide eyes washed by the greenish radiance of his glowing weapon.

"I can hear it in my head," Dasid said. "A hum. And I can feel it through my hand as well."

"Just wait," Brenna said as she closed her eyes to concentrate on the sounds. Each weapon had a differently pitched hum. And Kane and Dasid were somehow present within the sound - Kane was a deep thrum along her spine, Dasid was a lighter tone. She concentrated on Dasid until she isolated him. When she opened her eyes, only Dasid's sword still shone, its light illuminating the room. The rest of the weapons were dark. Brenna let her hand drop from the knife on the wall and Dasid's sword went dark as well.

"That was very interesting," Kane said. He replaced his sword in its scabbard. "I think we'll need to get the help of a few more families for this. The more different weapons Brenna has to work with I think the more she'll learn."

"Aye. But you'll need to be careful of who you select." Feiren dropped into one of the chairs. "We should choose those most in need of convincing. We'll also need to consider who we give access to the Caller."

Brenna grimaced. She'd rather not be around people who only were there to figure out how to use her. She did well enough in the Quarter, with those who wanted access to a healer. But she doubted she would be a match for a seasoned member of the nobility, or a merchant. She'd seen enough of the politics in Duke Thorold's household to know that it was a blood sport for many.

"Can we invite youngsters?" Brenna asked. "We could call it weapons practice." She could probably handle a group of fourteen year old boys. No doubt they'd be much like Eryl's gang, no matter their social standing. "I'll need someone to train with anyway."

"I like it." Kane smiled warmly at her. "We'll swear them to secrecy. It works for fresh recruits. Makes them feel grown up. Any complaints about access to you can be countered by the fact you've only had contact with youngsters. You'll need to meet the rest of the council though."

Brenna frowned.

"It's only another three, besides Uncle Feiren and Dasid," Kane said.

She smiled and he nodded. He assumed she was simply worried about meeting more people. And she was. The more members of the Brotherhood she met the sooner someone would realize that she wasn't their precious heir. And now they had something she wanted. Now she had a reason to stay. But as soon as she learned how to fight with weapons, she would leave.

eight

Kane stood near the window of his uncle's study. Outside, Feiren corrected Brenna's stance and then raised his practice sword. She raised her weapon and the two flowed through the parry and thrust exercises. Brenna's lithe body was quick and agile, and Kane couldn't help but appreciate her controlled grace. Years as a thief had given her a keen awareness of the way her body moved and the space it inhabited. When she performed an intricate parry with his uncle, his heart tightened in his chest. She was stunning when in motion. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought her ordinary.

Despite her strength and agility she'd started too late to ever be a master with a sword, but she continued to work hard and in a few more weeks she'd be effective enough. Certainly good enough to hold off a single skilled swordsman long enough for help to arrive, which was the most you could expect for a trainee her age.

He'd been surprised to find she was just past her twenty-second birthday - she'd seemed so much younger than him when he'd first set eyes on her. He smiled ruefully. Now at times she seemed as old as his uncle. She had a perceptive understanding of the underlying workings of the town that he, in his position as Captain of the Kingsguard, only rarely glimpsed.

His uncle and Brenna exchanged formal bows, weapons up, and then they lowered the practice swords to the ground in the small courtyard. Low sounds of laughter reached him as they each dipped a cup into the water bucket and drank their fill. It was a glorious late spring day, about a month since Brenna had come to stay with Uncle Feiren, and the sun shone brightly overhead despite it being late afternoon.

Brenna and Feiren each took up short wooden knives and faced each other again. In two steps they were both on the attack. Kane sucked in his breath. By Jik, he hadn't seen her with the knife in almost two weeks and her improvement was extraordinary.

After thirty minutes, Uncle Feiren had been able to best her only three out of four times and Kane knew he'd need to make more time for her training himself, if she kept at this pace. He sighed and rolled his shoulders. He'd been worried she'd never be able to defend herself, but it looked as though she could handle herself with a knife. And considering the risks she'd been taking lately, that was a relief.

His uncle didn't know, but the Brothers he'd posted to watch the house reported that Brenna had been leaving by hidden exists every fifth or sixth night. He had no idea how she'd found so many of the exits so quickly, but he had to convince her to take fewer chances. What if she was recognized? What could be so important that she would risk the church knowing she was still alive? So much was riding on her and yet she didn't seem to realize it. No, she realized it, she just didn't care. Not about the Brotherhood, anyway. In all the years he'd been in the Brotherhood, he'd never once considered that the heir, when found, might not want the task. He couldn't blame her, not really. But despite what Brenna wanted, the Brotherhood, and all of Soule, needed her. And it was up to him to convince her. He sighed. Something else he'd need to find time for.

When the two outside finally put down their knives, Kane opened the door and stepped out into the courtyard.

"Uncle Feiren, Brenna," Kane greeted them. He had to shade his eyes to see them in the bright sun. "I see you've been making good progress with the weapons training. Especially the knife work." Brenna looked up at him and smiled and his heart stopped, just for a moment. Flustered, he looked at his uncle.

"No offense, Uncle Feiren," he said. "But she'll soon be beyond your training skills."

"I can't be offended by the truth, can I?" Feiren grabbed a cloth and wiped his forehead. "It's been a very long while since I was Weapons Master and the knife never was one of my best. I always preferred the longer reached weapons, like the sword and staff. If you want to take over the knife, I'll be more than happy to step aside. She's much too young and nimble for my old bones to keep up with."

"You're not old." Brenna said. "You're just ..."

"Fat?" Feiren asked. He patted his still flat stomach. "Lazy?" Kane opened his mouth to comment but his uncle scowled at him. "You stay out of this, lad."

Brenna looked Feiren over critically, her eyes alight. "Let's just say you're distinguished," she said. "But it might not hurt to leave off Cook's dumplings for a bit." With that, she grabbed up her practice weapons and entered the house. She turned to close the door and looked at Kane. "I'll get cleaned up and be back down in a quarter hour."

The door closed behind her and Kane, his breath caught in his throat, simply stood and stared at it. Uncle Feiren cleared his throat and Kane turned to him.

"Be careful, lad," Feiren said as he walked towards him "She's the Caller. I dare say we're all a little bit infatuated with the lass." He smiled wistfully. "And that might be part of the prophecy. But we can't let our emotions cloud our judgment. Or hers."

"I know." Kane returned his uncle's smile with a sad one of his own. He feared that what he felt for Brenna went beyond infatuation - but she was not for him, no matter how much he might hope. Brenna would need to make a political match when she wed. And it was quite likely that he would need to help her make that decision. Perhaps it was part of the prophecy - for he was truly bound to her, as cruel and bittersweet as it was. He'd never expected to lose his heart to the Caller.

Kane sat in front of Feiren's desk while his uncle leaned back in his chair behind it. When Brenna entered the room the weapons on the wall flared to life. She looked up at them and they went dark. Kane fingered the pommel of his sword - it didn't seem to constantly react to Brenna's presence the way the weapons on the wall did.

"Does that happen every time you come across old steel?" he asked.

Brenna frowned and sat down in the chair beside him. "I don't think so. I've been working with these, so maybe I'm attuned to them?"

"But you've been working with mine and Dasid's swords and they don't seem to react the same way." He concentrated on his sword. He could hear and feel an underlying hum when she was close, but there had been no flash of light.

"Oh, yes, but they're just part of your song so I know them," Brenna said.

Kane looked over at his uncle. They both continued to struggle with Brenna's description of old steel. She'd explained that each weapon had a specific tone or resonance that was distinct and connected with the Brotherhood family who'd had them forged. When the weapon was wielded by someone from that original family, together they created what Brenna called a song. But when Kane and Dasid had tried wielding the other old steel weapons, the ones that were not from their own families the song, Brenna had explained, was off key.

"Do you unconsciously recognize and accept them?" Kane asked. "Or is there something you do on purpose so they don't react?" He leaned closer. "This could be important, Brenna."

"Well, I'm not sure. I've never tried to figure it out. How is it important?"

"If all old steel reacts to you," Kane said quietly. "And comes to life when you're close, you could put Brothers at risk when you wander around town."

Her eyes widened in understanding. Just last night she'd walked past a Brother whose knife had flared up at her presence. Thankfully the weapon had been well concealed, but if it happened with a long sword in a crowded street at night, there could be serious trouble. The Brother would certainly draw attention to himself and he could even be accused of being a witch.

"So," Kane continued. "I ask that you find a way to scan for old steel and make sure it doesn't react to you. And I'm going to insist that you don't leave this house until you can do that." Kane ignored his uncle's frown and concentrated on Brenna. Finally she nodded and he smiled.

"Good," Kane said. "I'll help you practice this in whatever way I can. I'll also step up your knife lessons. It's time you worked with a real blade. Once I'm satisfied with your progress, when you leave this house, I want you armed." He smiled. "I'm curious to see how you fare with an old steel knife. I don't think family ownership will matter at all."

"So, lass, pick one." Feiren gestured to the three knives on the wall behind him. "Even the Rowse knife - take whichever one feels best to you."

Brenna smiled slowly. She closed her eyes and soon one of the knives glowed softly. Brenna stood and slowly walked to the wall. Almost reverently, she took the weapon down and pulled it from its scabbard.

It was Kane thought, the oldest knife of the three. It was older even than the Rowse knife, if he was any judge. Steel coiled around the grip and the pommel ended with a round ball. The scabbard was a well-worn leather case that fit the five-inch blade perfectly. All in all Kane thought it a nice size for Brenna. When she hefted it in her hand, he saw from her smile that she liked the balance and weight as well. The light from the knife slowly grew brighter then went out quickly. Brenna returned the blade to the scabbard.

"So you've found one you like?" Kane asked. He smiled at her obvious pleasure in the weapon.

"And one that likes me as well," she replied without taking her eyes off the knife.

Brenna leaned back in her chair and sighed. Dinner was, as usual, excellent. She'd never in her life eaten so well. It was a good thing she spent so much time at weapons practice, otherwise she'd quickly get too big to climb through windows. And she needed to be able to that when she went exploring. As it was, the shoulders of her tunics were snug, which meant her balance was likely different than usual. Weapons practice helped her cope with that change but she was determined to keep her thief's skills honed or she'd risk losing the touch.

Not that she'd actually been stealing on the nights when she left the house. At first, bored and restless, she'd simply explored the tunnels of the house. She'd found a large cavern-like room that must be where the Brotherhood met. From the dank smells of the earth she assumed it was near the river. Eventually one of the passageways she'd followed had led outside.

She hadn't gone far. It had been enough to be outside of the house, alone, for the first time since the night Sabine Werrett had been killed. She'd been watched – by the Brotherhood, based on the weapons they carried. The next time she exited the house she'd headed for the Quarter and she'd lost those trailing her before she was even four streets away.

On her first three forays into the city she'd kept to the Quarter. She knew those streets best and felt safest there. It eventually dawned on her that she was known best there too. That's when she'd decided to investigate other parts of town. She'd started with the area around the Collegium. The night there had a much different feel to it than in the Quarter. The few taverns emptied of trade and shut down just when run-down taverns like the Crooked Dog would be getting busy.

Kayleen placed a cup of tea on the table in front of her and Brenna murmured her thanks. It was nice to be well fed, but she worried that she wouldn't be able to leave this behind. She breathed in the slightly spiced scent of the tea and watched Kane out of the corner of her eye. Ever since his comment that she must learn better control over old steel she'd been expecting him to take her to task for going out at night. It was clear that Feiren didn't know about her excursions and she felt guilty about that. She'd never known her father but she could imagine him being like Feiren, kind and generous to his family, friends and staff. Her father must have been good, after all her mother had loved him.

Brenna also felt guilty that she'd put Brothers at risk. She didn't want them to follow her, but that didn't mean she wished them harm. She thought she could already do what Kane wanted - check for old steel and make it not react to her.

"So Uncle," Kane said. "I think we're set to have the youngest Brothers come train with Brenna."

Brenna straightened. She knew they were coming, but already?

"Good," Feiren said. "We can start in two days. How does that sound to you Brenna?"

"I think that should be fine," Brenna said. She thought her reply was calm, even though she didn't feel that at all. "How many of the youngsters are there?" she asked Kane.

"Six," he said. "Four boys and two girls. All have fourteen or fifteen years. It ended up being a good cross-section of families as well. We were even able to include the daughter of the Guild Master. He's been very vocal about his doubts about the Call and you as the Caller."

"So if I convince his daughter she'll convince him?" She didn't like that part of the plan - what if his daughter was more doubtful than her father? "That's a tricky age," Brenna said. She was nervous - other than Eryl's gang she'd never spent much time with youngsters at all. And she'd never spent time with girls, not even when she was that age herself. Her worry must have shown because Feiren and Kane exchanged smiles.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Kane said. "Uncle Feiren can keep the boys under control."

"Aye. A lad that age just needs a knock to the head and a threat to his stomach," Feiren said. "That's always worked with new recruits for the Kingsguard."

Brenna calmed a little at that. It was not so different from Eryl's lads.

"And the girls will take care of themselves, I have no doubt." Kane's said.

"And likely take care of me as well." Feiren laughed. "I think they can be a bit bossy at that age."

Brenna detected a hint of nervousness behind Feiren's laugh. Maybe he didn't have any more experience with girls than she did?

Kayleen called Feiren away and Brenna and Kane were left alone. They moved to the sitting room and Kane poured them each a brandy. Kane fingered the base of his glass before he looked up into her eyes.

"So, the knife suits you?" he asked. She followed his gaze to the scabbard that sat at her waist. She nodded. Though she'd never worn a knife before in her life, it felt natural, as if it belonged there.

"You've a knack for knife work that's for sure," Kane said. "You're not yet a match against years of hard training and experience, but take the knife with you if you insist on going out."

Brenna swallowed at his serious tone and glanced away. For some reason the intensity in his blue eyes disturbed her tonight. Nor could she look away from him for long. She felt unsettled. Even the old steel seemed on edge.

"Are you going to tell your uncle?"

"No. Not right now. But feel free if you want to." Kane smiled briefly. "I'm not sure what you're looking for Brenna," he said, a serious expression on his face. "But the Brotherhood might be able to help. I don't want you taking unnecessary risks."

"And I don't," she said, her chest tight. "Are you going to tell me not to go out?" She didn't like deceiving Feiren - he didn't deserve it from her, not after he'd opened his home to her. But being able to leave the house meant she didn't always feel so trapped. It meant she was able to cope with the rest of the days and nights she spent inside these walls. She wasn't sure either Kane or Feiren would understand.

"I don't think it would change your mind," Kane said, his gaze locked on hers. She shook her head and he sighed. "Can I at least know what's so important that you need to go out at night?"

"It's my business," Brenna said and she saw his back stiffen and knew she'd spoken too harshly. "Sorry, it's just that I have no privacy here, not really. I appreciate what you and your uncle have done, but sometimes I just need to get out and feel in control of my life. I'll be careful," she promised softly.

"And the old steel? Will you be able to dampen it?"

"I think so. I'll try with the youngsters." She grimaced and he laughed. Brenna smiled at the sound. Lately Kane's visits were rare and usually so hurried that she hardly ever heard him laugh. She realized that she'd missed it.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine. My uncle spent over thirty years with the Kingsguard, many of those years dealing with fresh recruits not much older than these youngsters. I doubt he'll have any trouble." He laughed again. "At least not with the boys."

"Exactly. He'll expect me to know how to handle the girls. I don't know anything about girls that age." Brenna dropped her head into one hand and slumped down in her seat.

"Of course you do." Kane seemed surprised by her answer. "You used to be one. You must know what girls that age are interested in."

"When I was that age I worried about my next meal and making sure I didn't end up indentured. I doubt these girls have those concerns."

Any reply he might have made was interrupted by Feiren's return.

In bed but unable to sleep, Brenna thought about how different her life had been compared to the boys and girls she would meet in a few days. What would it have been like to grow up in a house that had been in your family for generations? Even before she was on her own Brenna had never had a secure home. To be indentured in Duke Thorold's household meant you lived in fear of him, as all his servants did. But even so, the worst of his temper was saved for those closest to him - his sons, his wife, his advisors, and her.

Believing her to be his illegitimate daughter, the duke had been particularly hard on her. But instead of breaking her, his rough treatment made her more determined to defy him. That's why she'd started to spy on him but she soon discovered that when she knew his plans, she could keep out of his way. Then she'd seen Thorold belittle and terrorize six-year-old Beldyn.

She'd started protecting Beldyn in part because it gave her a sense of control over Duke Thorold's world, but once she understood the dread the boy lived in, she'd done it for his sake. Beldyn's mother was herself so cowed that she often seemed relieved when the duke's anger was turned on her older child, rather than her and her baby boy. And so it was that the duke's heir spent almost four years secretly trailing her. When she looked back on those years, Brenna knew that's what set her on the path to becoming a thief.

The first thing she ever stole was a pastry. It was midwinter feast and Beldyn had described one of the tarts he'd eaten for lunch; a flaky, buttery pastry filled with plump raisins and rich nuts drizzled with a thick sweet cream. Brenna had never been allowed such treats but her younger self reasoned that if she took one for Beldyn, it would be all right if she took one for herself as well. From then on Brenna ate almost every treat made in the kitchen, although she was careful to take only what wouldn't be missed. She had no wish to bring Thorold's wrath down on any of the servants.

As she got older chores and learning the healing craft from her mother took more of her time, so she and Beldyn had spent less and less time together. But she'd always thought of him as her little brother. Now he was a tool for his father. She wondered what Beldyn would say if he knew the Brotherhood had plans to put her on the throne instead of him. Did he want the throne? The boy she'd known would not have wanted it, but the past six years might have hardened him and made him cruel like his father.

Brenna swallowed nervously as she peered out the window. She knew she had to go out eventually but truth to tell, she was afraid. Besides, it looked like Feiren had everything well in hand. The former Kingsguard captain had decided on a show of obvious authority and wore one of his old uniforms. He did look impressive. He'd retired more than two years ago but still looked trim in the dark blue jacket and breeches.

Six young members of the Brotherhood fidgeted in the practice yard. Each of them had an old steel weapon and it looked like a few of them had never touched a weapon before in their lives. Even though Kane had said they were all fourteen or fifteen Brenna was surprised at the differences in them.

One lad looked to have his full man's height but his weight had some catching up to do - he was as tall as Feiren but Brenna thought his lanky frame would fit through spaces even she couldn't squeeze through. Another boy had yet to see any type of growth spurt at all. Small with light brown hair and a slightly pinched look about him, his head didn't quite reach Feiren's shoulder. This boy reminded her of the lads in Eryl's gang. A third boy already had the beginnings of a beard and the girth of one who spent too much time at table. The fourth boy was about her height with a crop of unruly blond curls that fell into his eyes. He looked the most comfortable with his weapon, a sword that he'd clearly been taught how to use. These boys weren't very intimidating.

It was the girls who scared her. Actually, it was just one girl. The small girl in breeches with the plain knife seemed unlikely to be a problem – but the one dressed in the fine clothes with the haughty attitude? She worried her.

When she was young, women in the higher classes had teased Brenna because of her poor dress and station as a servant. With her rich clothing and elaborate hairstyle this girl looked much like the ones she'd served on Duke Thorold's estate. She was dressed as though she was visiting nobility rather than being trained by a former Guard. She too had a knife, but she touched it as if it were a thing to be loathed, rather than a cherished family heirloom. With a sigh, Brenna stepped back from the window and headed to the door. She'd be better to just get it over with. She opened the door and stepped out into the yard.

"Hello Feiren," Brenna said. She reached out to the old steel and stopped it from reacting to her. The seven people in the yard all turned to face her.

"Ah Brenna," Feiren said. "You made it. I trust all is well and there will be no other delays? "

Brenna heard the dry tone in his voice and deliberately refused to meet Feiren's gaze.

"Yes, well. Here I am," she said. The six youngsters stared at her wide-eyed. Well, five of them stared at her. The sixth, the well-dressed girl, looked everywhere except at her. No doubt to make sure Brenna knew that she wasn't impressed.

Brenna grinned. This could be fun after all. She'd dealt with many folk who thought they were above her, and in most cases she'd been able to get the better of them. They may not have known it was her, but they certainly missed the purse or scarf when they got home.

"Lads, lasses," Feiren said. "This is Brenna Lightfingers, the Caller." Feiren bowed to her and she nodded back. "Brenna, this here is your training squad. Colm." The blond boy bowed. "Owen." This was the boy growing the beard. "Gram." The tall lanky one. "Jemma." The girl in breeches gave her a shy smile. "Martyn." He was the smallest boy. "And this is Carolie." The well dressed girl, Carolie, sniffed.

"You don't look like you carry the bloodline of Wolde," Carolie said. "What makes you special?"

Brenna eyed the girl thoughtfully for a few seconds and then she reached out to the old steel in the yard. With a quick mental nudge she let the weapons flare briefly, just enough to get their attention then snuffed them out.

"I can do that," Brenna said. Some of Carolie's haughtiness was replaced with unease. "I think that's special, don't you?" Brenna looked at the others. She hadn't wanted to frighten them, just let them know there was a reason she was here. Thankfully they seemed more excited than afraid. She paused, her gaze on the smallest boy. Martyn, his name was. There was something familiar about him and his knife. She reached with her mind and touched his knife.

"You're Pater's nephew aren't you?" Brenna stepped over to him and smiled.

"You know my Uncle Pater?" He looked up at her in surprise.

"That I do," Brenna said. "I bet you're the lad who hurt his foot. That was one of my poultices you used for it."

"You're Brenna the healer?" At her nod he continued excitedly. "Uncle Pater says you likely know more about healin' than anyone else in Kingsreach, not just the Quarter. He says you could set up shop and treat only nobles and such, but you prefer to stay in the Quarter treatin' folks who really appreciate it."

Brenna laughed and squeezed Martyn's shoulder. "It's true; I do like the people of the Quarter."

"Huh," Carolie said. "Who ever heard of the heir to the throne being a healer living in Thieves Quarter? If you really have royal blood why aren't you living in the castle with the king?"

The girl was annoying. Brenna ignored the comment and turned to Feiren. His shrug told her that he had yet to figure out a way to handle her.

"Don't be thick." This was from Colm, the only one of the boys who looked to be Carolie's social equal. "She's the long lost heir. Makes sense she wouldn't be living anywhere fancy, otherwise she wouldn't be lost, would she? And why not a healer? If the old prophecy is true she's partly descended from Aruntun and she was a healer."

Brenna caught Feiren's wink as she turned to hide her smile. Carolie's huff followed her as she walked over to Feiren, but the girl didn't say anything more.

"So Weapons Master," Brenna said. "Please don't let me interrupt the lesson any more than I already have. What were you working on before I joined you?"

Brenna sighed as she wrapped both hands around the warm mug. She closed her eyes and breathed in the steam from her tea. It was only early afternoon, but she was already exhausted. They'd spent the morning running through some of the drills Feiren and she had been working on. This let Feiren get an idea of how experienced each student was in terms of their weapons training. After the noon meal, she'd worked with each one of them separately, trying to understand the individual songs. She frowned. Carolie's knife was not a match for her. In addition to the girl's haughty manner, she'd had to deal with mismatched old steel. Footsteps sounded in the hall and then the door creaked open. Feiren stood before her, face weary.

"How did Carolie's father take it?" she asked.

Feiren ran a hand over his short hair. "I don't think it was a surprise." He grinned. "Carolie decided that her father was saving the better weapon for her younger brother and she made sure he knew she wasn't happy."

"I think that she'll show up here tomorrow with whatever was promised to her brother," Brenna said.

"Aye, I think so too. When I explained that you could tell the knife wasn't original to the family, aside from being embarrassed, her father was impressed so that was well done. Guild Master Brunger has been vocal in opposing you as the Caller and his position in the guild means his opinion carries weight. When I met his daughter this morning, I feared we'd not be able to make any headway, seeing that she was at least as hard headed as her father, but you've shown him that you do have special sense about old steel. He'll not forget."

"I doubt Carolie will allow him to forget," Brenna said.

The next few weeks fell into a routine. Two days out of every seven, Brenna practiced with the young members of the Brotherhood. Carolie did indeed show up with a knife that was a better match for her. It was very plain, which explained why she'd been given the other one in the first place, but now that the girl knew it was more of a family treasure than her first knife, she made much of it.

In very little time Brenna was able to stand outside a room and know who was in there, just by sensing the old steel. Once, Feiren had her six training mates trade weapons. Not only did Brenna know that they didn't hold their own weapons, but she could tell whose weapon they held.

She knew she should treat all of the youngsters the same, but Jemma, the only daughter of a weaver, quickly became her favourite. The girl was quiet and serious when with the others, but alone, Jemma had a quick wit and wry sense of humor. Brenna and Jemma often sat apart from the rest while they waited their turn in the practice yard. Jemma seemed content to let Carolie flirt and giggle with the boys while she and Brenna discussed other matters.

Already apprenticed to her father, Jemma had a good grasp of how politics shaped and affected her particular trade. Brenna listened uneasily to Jemma's thoughts about Comack. Duke Thorold's reliance on his mines for wealth combined with his obsession with developing feed and pasturage for his horses meant that southern Aruntun, not Comack, now produced most of Soule's cotton. As the church of the One-God gained power in the king's council the possibility of trade disruptions with Aruntun became more likely. If that happened whole trades could disappear.

"As a weaver I would likely be fine," Jemma said. "I can still work wool and such. But it's not just the growers who would lose trade. The cotton merchants and the ship owners and caravans that transport it would be hurt, as well as the dyers and those who collect and grow what's used in the dyes. Some dyes are only good for cotton and can't be used on wool. And all because the church won't tolerate the old gods."

Brenna shivered. Trade would be disrupted, just as Jemma outlined, she was sure. Was this another vision? Maybe not, but Duke Thorold rarely did things by accident. If he'd been encouraging his farmers to grow grain rather than cotton, there was a reason. She shivered again. What had the cotton displaced on the Aruntian farms? Wheat? Corn? Would Aruntun be able to feed her people if trade with the rest of Soule dried up?

Most days the mental work with old steel combined with the physical activity of weapons training left Brenna exhausted - those nights she slept deeply and did not venture out into the city. On the nights that she did take to the streets she always wore her knife. She followed Kane's advice and worked hard to keep old steel quiet. It wasn't long before she could pinpoint Brothers when they were blocks away.

Testing for old steel became second nature. Brenna was confident that she was no longer being followed. At least by the Brotherhood. Of the church, she saw no sign, but kept to the shadows and rooftops just in case.

She also kept to the better parts of town. She was much less likely to be recognized outside of the Quarter. Especially once she'd come across some student's clothes left outside to dry. The disguise suited her well enough. She'd even worn it into the odd tavern in the hopes she could glean information about Thorold's activities. She might be Feiren's guest and the Brotherhood believed her the heir to their prophecy, but she had not lost sight of her promise to her mother. She would find a way to make Duke Thorold pay for her death.

News was rare but one night at a small out-of-the-way tavern she was able to slip unnoticed into a booth beside a former informant. Messengers from abroad had visited Thorold's estate after dark, he told his companion. And one message had been intercepted. Duke Thorold's son Beldyn was to wed the King of Langemore's daughter.

As she crept out of the tavern Brenna wondered what other correspondence Duke Thorold might have had with the King of Langemore. She could see no reason for him to want to keep a betrothal secret – not after King Mattias' lack of a marriage and natural heir.

On her way back to Feiren's house she cursed her inability to find out more - but she'd have to go through both Kane and Eryl to question her old informants, and that she wouldn't do. She didn't yet trust Kane, not with this. And Eryl? She knew better than to trust him. No matter how ambiguous she tried to make her questions, he'd see through them. And she'd never be sure that he'd tell her the truth.

But something about Thorold's late night messengers bothered her. Another hunch, she thought wryly, and wished her Seer abilities were clearer. Maybe then she wouldn't need to work so hard at finding things out. No doubt she'd find the information she sought in Thorold's home if she dared the old gods and looked there.

As high summer hit Kingsreach and the nobles made plans to leave the city in order to escape the heat and odors of the hot weather, Brenna worried that she would lose her chance for this year. Kane told her Duke Thorold planned to leave for Dryannan soon. She was getting desperate to learn more of his plots.

Dressed as a student, Brenna walked slowly past the high wall of the estate, the gate and the guards. The lane she turned down branched off to the right and sloped down towards the river. She'd walked this path shortly before midnight every fourth or fifth night since she'd found her student disguise. The first night the guards had watched her every move, but each night after that they'd paid less and less attention. Tonight her presence barely caused a head to turn and she smiled in the darkness. She was as invisible as she would ever be to the guards at Duke Thorold's estate.

Brenna slowly headed back to Feiren's. Her next step would be the library. If she could find plans for an estate the same age as Thorold's she might be able to find a way in. But that would have to wait. Tomorrow was the unveiling of the Caller to the Brotherhood and she needed to be sharp to manage all the old steel.

nine

Kane strode through the castle, barely noticing the rich tapestries, thick oak tables and richly carved panels and doors that he passed. He turned left just past the offices of the three duchies - as usual the offices of Aruntun and Fallad were dark and empty while a light showed from under Comack's closed door.

He reached his own office and pushed the door open. Dasid looked up from his seat at the desk, papers and scrolls piled in front of him.

"Ready to go?" Kane asked. Tonight the Brotherhood would acknowledge Brenna as the Caller and heir to the throne. The oath they had given when they joined the Brotherhood was real and every one of them owed their allegiance to Brenna. Including him. He hoped it never conflicted with the oath he'd sworn to protect King Matthias.

"It will take me only a moment to finish up here." Dasid said. He rolled up a scroll and added it to one of the stacks of papers on the desk while Kane paced the small room.

The meet was scheduled to start in two hours and Kane was impatient to get to his uncle's and make sure all was well. He'd handled the security measures himself but he needed to make sure his plan was executed smoothly.

Because of the large number of people expected for tonight's meet, arrivals had been staggered over the past two days. Right now travelers from outside Kingsreach were concealed in the underground passageways. Some had been there for two nights.

It was the biggest recorded meeting in Brotherhood history. Well over six hundred Brothers were expected. Since there was no way to keep a gathering that large a secret, they'd had come up with a ruse. Uncle Feiren was hosting a party in honor of the retirement of the Kingsguard's weapons master. Almost three hundred Kingsguard and high ranking townspeople would enter through the Rowse estate through the front door. What wasn't general knowledge was that the Weapons Master was going to manage their new training facility.

Finally Dasid was finished and they headed for the stables.

Their horses settled in the Rowse stables, Kane headed for Feiren's study while Dasid went down to the cavern. His task was to document all the Brothers in attendance, a huge undertaking he'd already spent weeks on. Now he was going to see who had arrived since the morning.

Feiren's study was empty. Kane looked out the window to the practice yard. Uncle Feiren was there with Brenna and the six youngsters, going through their drill one final time. When he stepped outside, Kane's sword tingled slightly. Though her back was to him and all her attention seemed to be on the drill, Brenna had just greeted him.

Her control over the old steel amazed him. Two weeks after his talk with her none of the Brothers on watch complained of unexpected incidences with their weapons. At first Kane had been pleased - then he'd smartened up. Now half the Brothers posted to watch the house and its exits went without old steel. So far, according to the reports, Brenna still roamed at night but now she kept to the better parts of Kingsreach, where she wouldn't be recognized. She also showed a respectable amount of caution when she went out and often wore a disguise she'd picked up somewhere. And because she was so good at remaining undetected, tracking her through the streets of the city was excellent training for his men.

Drill complete, the group in front of him all lowered their weapons. Uncle Feiren headed his way and Kane caught Brenna's eye and smiled.

"Everything going well?" Kane asked.

"Aye, as well as can be expected with this lot." Feiren's eyes sparkled with humor. "All right. Head inside and get yourselves something from Cook," Feiren said and Kane stepped to the side as the group headed to the door.

"Mind you," Feiren said. "Cook will be busy so don't make yourselves a nuisance. And see if ye can't keep from staining your shirt, there Owen." Feiren bellowed as he followed them into the house.

Brenna stopped beside Kane.

"It looks good," Kane said. "The drill. Was the way you're dressed your idea?" All six young Brothers had been in head to toe black. Not unlike what Brenna had been wearing the first time he'd met her.

"Well, it is practical." Brenna grinned up at him. "Black breeches and shirts are useful, especially for the boys. Even Carolie seems to like it. Now take your uniform." Brenna gestured towards him. "With so many buttons to polish I'm surprised you have time to show up at all."

Kane dipped his head in acknowledgement. He hadn't spent much time at his uncle's, though he knew he should. He needed her to trust him, to trust the Brotherhood. Staying away didn't help him there.

"I might have more time if I didn't have so many security reports to listen to," Kane said. She shrugged at his comment but it was true. He'd insisted his men report her every move to him, and they did. Pages and pages each night she was out. "I've been told the subject is being very careful."

"I can't believe you still haven't told your Uncle." Brenna met his gaze, her eyes serious. "I'm not sure what to make of it."

"You forget who I am, Brenna." Kane kept his voice gentle. "As Captain of the Kingsguard I sit on the king's council. I'm also in charge of security for the Brotherhood. That makes your safety my responsibility, not my uncle's." He hoped he never had to choose between his two roles. His first loyalty was to Brenna and the Brotherhood. "Besides," Kane continued. "I did suggest you tell him."

"So you did," Brenna said. "I just didn't expect you to keep a secret like this from him."

"It's not a secret unless it's kept," he said quietly. Maybe, just maybe, she would trust him a little now. "And speaking of secrets, I'm sure Dasid would love to discuss the house with you. He might be able to show you a few more exits." Brenna laughed and he felt her relax a little. Good, tonight was too important for her to be too nervous. "Not that I think you need more ways out of the house."

"Do you really think he knows more of them than I do?" Brenna asked.

Kane pretended to think about it. "He's had access to the house for twenty years and you've had access to it for what, less than two months? No, I doubt he knows more of them than you. But he would like to record them all."

Up in her room, Brenna could hear the sounds of people arriving - hearty greetings, booted feet in the hallway, laughter. But underneath it there was a heavy hum of old steel. A lot of old steel. She'd successfully blocked it out until now but with so much below her, her head ached. At one point, in an effort to find out just how many weapons there were, she'd reached for it and had almost been overwhelmed. Since then she'd stayed in her room rather than face the old steel and the Brothers who carried it. In hopes of some relief, she dabbed her neck with cool water. She leaned over the wash basin and studied her reflection in the mirror.

Over the past weeks her hair had grown and now it was tied back with some twine. Her mother had called her hair chestnut but Brenna had always thought of it as muddy brown, despite the shine it had. Tonight her face was pale, which she thought added to her plainness. The dusting of freckles she'd accumulated while training outside stood out. Her nose was a little too large and her mouth a little wide to be considered beautiful. She certainly had none of the physical charm of Carolie, who was well on her way to becoming a great beauty. Her only unusual feature was her mismatched eyes and as far as she was concerned, that was not a virtue. She sighed and sat on the bed. Not much to inspire the Brotherhood.

Idly she picked up her knife and toyed with it, first lighting the blade and then letting it go dark. Kane and Feiren believed she could manipulate old steel because she was heir to the prophecy. She thought it was something she'd inherited from her mother, along with the charm of concealment and her ability to see well in the dark.

The trouble was, as Kane had reminded her tonight, this wasn't a game. She was about to try to convince hundreds of people that she was the one prophesied long ago, the one they felt should be on the throne. There was no way she could ever believe that, nor did she want what they offered. She had her own plans, her own life and they didn't include being the figurehead for the Brotherhood.

But she needed to know what game Thorold was playing so she had to keep up appearances with Kane and his uncle. Unfortunately the longer she stayed in the Rowse home, the harder it would be to see Kane's reaction to her deception. She admired him. He was a man of honor, a man to be trusted. He would stand by her if she asked, likely to the death – and that shook her. No-one other than her mother had ever had that depth of loyalty to her. And she didn't deserve it. She wasn't what he thought she was. Kane had been correct earlier when he said she'd forgotten who he was. She, a thief, had no right to expect anything from the Captain of the Kingsguard.

With a deep sigh, Brenna stood. Time to face the Brotherhood. She opened the door and nodded at the Brother positioned outside her room. She recognized him as the Kingsguard on duty when she was in jail. Kane had said his name was Andel and that he was her escort but to her he was still her jailer. Would he let her leave if she tried to walk out of the house? She doubted it.

"Let's go," she said. Instead of taking the stairs she pushed the lever that opened a passageway. As she descended to the caverns, she gritted her teeth and tried to block out the old steel that surrounded her.

Brenna peered around the rocky opening and squinted in the smoky light of the cavern. Empty, the cavern had looked big, but now, filled with almost six hundred Brothers, it felt small. The noise of the crowd reminded her of the Seven River when spring melted the mountain snows. And underlying it was the thrum of old steel. It battered her senses even as she tried to block it out.

For the most part men filled the cavern but Brenna could see a number of women scattered throughout the crowd. Their brightly colored dresses stood out from the somber blacks and browns of the men's garb. The dark blue uniforms of the Kingsguard punctuated the edges of the room and a Guard nearby looked her way. Andel gave him a sign and the Guard nodded and continued to scan the gathering.

She'd been part of a crowd this size before, but only on the streets of Kingsreach. The larger the crowd the more profitable they were for a thief, but she hadn't realized that so many bodies in an enclosed space would generate such heat. Brenna thanked Ush that she was dressed in a simple shirt and breeches. The heavy formal attire worn by the nobles and tradesmen and the uniforms worn by the Kingsguard must be stifling.

Up at the front, on the dais, Kane was impressive in his uniform. When he bent his head to speak to his uncle his dark hair shone in the flickering torchlight and Brenna remembered the way the deep blue of the uniform had highlighted his eyes. She quickly looked away from him to study the cavern.

The wooden dais stretched across the front of the cavern and was darkened by age and the smoke of hundreds of years of torches. On the left, three steps led up from the cavern floor. Most of the council of the Brotherhood, including Dasid Addems, sat at the long table that was centered on the dais. Feiren Rowse stood close to the front of the dais, still in conversation with Kane and the rest of the council members solemnly looked out over the crowd.

Brenna's six drill mates huddled just in front of her, at the very back of the crowd. With a nod to Andel, she drifted off and joined them. Andel made his way through the crowd and up the stairs. He said something to Kane and after a quick glance her way Kane tapped Feiren on the shoulder.

"Brotherhood," Feiren shouted over the din. "Brotherhood." The noise of the crowd rose and then grew quiet. "On this historic occasion a special ceremony will be performed by some of our youngest members. Please begin." Feiren waved Brenna's group forward.

The seven of them quickly got into positions \- shortest to tallest. Martyn was first, then Jemma, Carolie, Brenna, Colm, Owen and finally Gram. Brenna did her best to ignore the deep drone of old steel and concentrate on Carolie as she followed her through the crowd. They stopped in front of Feiren and the council and saluted them. Then they all turned and drew their weapons. When Brenna's hand touched her knife, the hum of old steel increased in volume. Her arm trembled as she drew her knife up, pointed to the cavern ceiling with the flat of the blade resting against her nose. The muscles in her arm ached until she clamped down hard with her mind and blocked the old steel out. She took a deep breath. Now she could function.

Brenna remained stationary as the others swung out from either side of her until they formed two lines that faced each other. Knives and swords met overhead and she walked beneath them. As she passed each pair of old steel weapons she reached out and let them flare briefly. It was a struggle to control the responses of these few weapons in the presence of so much old steel and by the time she'd walked the short distance her head ached and sweat dotted her forehead. The rest of her drill team formed a circle and Brenna began to weave in and out between them. As she passed them, one by one she let each weapon glow for a second. The crowd murmured and she felt a vague sense of unease from the old steel that surrounded her.

She wove past Martyn and the circle broke. Once again they lined up in front of the council table, this time with Brenna at the head of the line. They held their weapons out in front, blades pointed to the cavern ceiling.

Brenna took a step forward and bowed to the council table. Then she turned to Martyn. She reached for her knife and let it shine with a clear white light. She focused on Martyn's knife. Soon, it too shone. Brenna gritted her teeth against the pounding of her head. She wanted this over, and soon. She felt drained from being so close to so much old steel.

"We praise Ush for health and plenty," Martyn said. She stepped past him and stopped in front of Jemma.

"We praise Jik for order and balance," Jemma said after Brenna lit her knife. Then it was on to Carolie and her praise to Anu for the comforts and family and community. As Brenna stopped in front of each of her drill mates and lit their blade, it was harder for her to control them. The crowd became louder and louder as each weapon was lit. Finally she was almost done. The praises to the old gods were complete and there was only one more weapon to light. She stopped in front of Gram and lit his sword. The noise from the crowd increased and Gram shifted a half step forward and cleared his throat.

"When the blood of Wolde is weakened," Gram began. His deep voice carried out across the crowd. "And the line of kings is broken one will come who reunites Wolde's blood."

Gram stepped back and Brenna moved forward, her palm slick on her knife hilt as she held it aloft. She looked down the line, where all six weapons blazed, and licked her lips.

"Brothers by the throne, look to me to save the line." Her words echoed in the now quiet hall and nervously Brenna took half a step back.

"Brotherhood," Feiren said from the dais behind her. "I give you Brenna Lightfingers, your Caller."

The crowd shouted and whistled and stamped their feet on the cavern floor. Brenna turned and held her knife up to the drill team. She managed to let the weapons flare even brighter for just a second, and the crowd grew even louder. Then she nodded to her drill mates and as a group they sheathed their weapons. Once the weapons were safely sheathed, Brenna let them go dark.

She wiped a sleeve across her brow then bowed first to the crowd, then to her drill mates. She made her way to the stairs and joined Feiren and Kane. She met Kane's gaze and he nodded and faced forward. Brenna tugged her shirt down, pushed her shoulders back and looked out into a sea of faces.

"Brothers! Quiet, please. Quiet!" Feiren shouted. Brenna unsheathed her knife and let it shine brighter than ever as she fought the undercurrent of hundreds of pieces of old steel. The room went silent as all eyes turned to her. With a nod to Feiren she sheathed her knife.

"This slip of a girl is the Caller?" asked a large, blunt faced man. He stood at the front of the crowd and from the way he was dressed Brenna guessed he was a farmer.

"Yes the Caller is a woman," Feiren said. "My nephew and Kingsguard Andel have sworn to the council that they heard her voice the Call. She has abilities tied to old steel, as has been demonstrated tonight."

"So the Kingsguard and the council have met her," the farmer said. "What about regular folk, have any been part of this or have you been hidin' her among the nobles?" Some in the crowd shouted their agreement and Brenna saw more than a few men nod their heads.

"What do you mean by regular folk?" asked a familiar voice. Brenna searched for the speaker and finally found him. She smiled as Pater worked his way up to the front. "Name of Pater and I have a fruit stand in Thieves Quarter," he said. "Am I regular enough folk for ye?"

There were general sounds of agreement and the original speaker nodded.

"Well, that's my nephew there. The small one on the end." Pater pointed to Martyn. "He's been training with the Caller for a few weeks now. Martyn, tell the lads here what Brenna can do."

Brenna watched as Martyn swallowed, then squared his shoulders and took a step forward.

"Well," Martyn said. "Mistress Brenna, she can make the old steel light up and hum, too." Martyn paused for a second. "Mistress Brenna says that each one of us has a song we make when we're holding old steel. Well, the old steel that belongs to us leastways. She can tell if you and the old steel don't come from the same family."

"That's true." A large well-dressed man spoke. "Many of you here know me. I'm Guild Master Brunger and my daughter has also been training with the Caller. Carolie, take a step forward would you?" Brenna couldn't see the girl's face but from the way she flounced forward a step there was no doubt she was enjoying being the centre of attention.

"The Caller," said the Guildmaster. "Sent my daughter home saying that the knife Carolie had was not original to our family. You can imagine my surprise when I looked back over our family records and discovered this was indeed the truth. The knife had come into the family more than 700 hundreds years ago. The Caller knew even though my family had forgotten."

"But she's a woman! Never heard that the Caller'd be a woman," someone from the back of the crowd shouted. The cavern filled with muttered agreement and Brenna lifted her chin and gazed steadily out over the crowd. She could feel the agitation of the crowd through the old steel they bore. The more unsettled the crowd became the more her head throbbed.

The crowd shifted towards the back of the cavern and Brenna saw a solid line Kingsguard dark blue along the back wall. She wasn't surprised that a group called the Brotherhood had been expecting a man, no matter what Feiren had said. Angrily she let go of her control and all at once hundreds of old steel weapons flared to light. Brenna stepped forward to the edge of the dais and glared at the crowd. The weapons shone so brightly that the torches barely registered in the white glare.

Those at the front of the crowd edged back from her and a space opened up in front of the dais. Her drill team remained, at least. Exhausted, she rubbed a hand against her aching temple.

"Order!" Feiren shouted. "Brothers! Remain calm, please."

Brenna reached out to the old steel and the light slowly faded from hundreds of weapons. Then the room started to fade and she felt her legs crumple.

"Brenna, are you all right?"

"No." She opened her eyes to find Kane bent over her, his face grim. "My head hurts." She shifted until the arm of the settee no longer dug into her back. She squinted against the dim light of Feiren's sitting room. "And I'm tired." She rubbed her temples. "What happened? I remember the old steel. There was so much of it that I couldn't control it. I fainted, didn't I?"

"Yes, and it was quite spectacular," Kane said. "It certainly got everyone's attention." He placed a damp cloth on her brow and she groaned at the cool relief.

"That's it then," she said. "They'll never accept me now. Not only a woman but a weak one at that." She was relieved. This could all be over and she could go on with her life.

"Oh they don't think that at all," Kane said with a smile. "Once we knew you were still alive a good number of Brothers blamed your faint on the doubters. Some think that the Caller would be affected by disagreement amongst the Brotherhood. The Kingsguard had to knock some heads together to break up a few scuffles."

"How long was I out?" Brenna asked. She was still stuck with the Brotherhood, then. She leaned back against the settee and let the coolness of the cloth soothe her headache.

"Just a few minutes," Kane said. "I got you out as fast as I could. Dasid and Uncle Feiren will be up when things have calmed down." He took the cloth from her and stood up. "It will take a while, so we should get you up to your room. Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine," Brenna said. She felt her head for any lumps or tender areas. "There doesn't seem to be any real damage. I'm just tired and, well, drained from all the old steel." She slid her legs over the edge of the settee and paused in case there was any lingering dizziness. "Rather than go to my room, I'll head for the kitchen." She stood up and stretched. "I'm sure you want to get back downstairs but me, I'm suddenly starving."

"You're sure you're fine?" Kane asked.

"I'm sure."

"You'd tell me if you weren't?" He reached a hand out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and Brenna looked away, suddenly warm.

"Yes. But I'm fine," she said. "Really. Now go."

"I'll let them know you'll be all right," Kane said and turned to go.

As he left, Brenna flushed at the thought of Kane carrying her up here while she was unconscious.

Kane rubbed his eyes wearily as he walked down the hall towards his uncle's study. Finally everyone was out or bedded down in the caverns. Because of the trouble earlier he'd let over four hundred guests leave through the front door. It was a risk, he knew. That was over one hundred people more than had entered. But it was late and dark. He'd had each party add one extra person when they left. Besides the fifty or sixty Brothers who had left by the secret passages, there were still over one hundred men bedded down in the caverns. They would leave in the morning.

Kane reached his uncle's study and stopped. Uncle Feiren sat slouched at his desk. A half full glass of wine sat beside him and his head was propped up in one hand as he stared at the chair in front of him. Kane leaned against the doorframe and smiled. Brenna was curled up in the chair, fast asleep. Her brown hair fell softly across her cheek and her eyelids were closed over those incredible eyes of hers. Her mouth was open slightly and when he heard the small sound, he stifled a laugh. She must have heard him because her eyes opened and she squinted up at him. Then she yawned, stretched her arms wide and untucked her legs from beneath her.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked, her voice husky.

"You snore," Kane said. He stepped into the room and dropped into the chair beside her.

"I do not!"

"You do." Kane looked at his uncle. "Uncle Feiren will agree."

Feiren nodded. "I'm afraid it's true lass, although it's not something a gentleman usually points out to a lady." He fixed Kane with a glare. "At least not if he knows what's good for him."

"Huh. Well, no one ever complained before," Brenna said. "I'm going to bed, where my snoring won't disturb anyone." And then she rose and left the room.

Kane stared after her. No one had complained before? By the old gods what did that mean? Was it just Eryl or had Brenna had other bedmates? His stomach knotted and his breath caught in his throat. She'd had a life before she'd been discovered as the Caller. A rough life in a rough part of town. His chest tightened at the thought of her with a man. And that was because she was heir to the throne and would need to make a political marriage, he told himself. Not because he felt anything other than fondness and fealty to her as the Caller. But he remembered how he'd felt when he'd seen her slump to the floor in the cavern. Remembered how his heart had stopped and time had crawled until he could make it to her side, make sure she still lived.

"Kane."

Kane looked up and met his uncle's speculative gaze.

"I asked if you thought Brenna had recovered from her faint tonight," Feiren said.

"Oh, um," Kane mumbled. "Yes. She seemed to be. A little tired, but otherwise fine."

"Good. That's what I thought," Feiren said. "Now to the records. I'd like to finish this off before dawn, if you don't mind." He handed Kane a stack of papers. "You check those."

ten

Incompetents, that's what he was surrounded with. God cursed incompetents. Thorold's arm swept the top of his desk. The wine glass crashed to the floor and papers scattered about the room. He needed answers and he needed them now. Feiren Rowse had hosted a large gathering the night before last. Apparently it was to congratulate some old warrior's retirement from the Kingsguard, but it didn't ring true. Reports said the house was quiet all night long, odd for a gathering of over three hundred Guardsmen. And not one unruly incidence was reported in Kingsreach afterward. He didn't think that was because the Guard hadn't reported on its own. No. Some of them had found their way into taverns, but they were quiet in them and sober when they arrived. It was unusual. So unusual he didn't believe it was a simple a retirement.

"Boy," he shouted. The door to his study opened and a youth crept in, head bowed.

"Yes, my Lord Duke."

"Get me Fridrick. Now!" With a quick nod the boy scurried from the room.

He'd have Fridrick look into this party. Thorold had long been suspicious of Feiren Rowse and his nephew. Both of them professed belief in the rights of the common man, but Thorold knew what lay in the hearts of the common man - greed and lust. He believed that even the Rowse's held something or someone dear enough to lie, cheat and kill for and he was determined to find out what that was. Feiren Rowse had already caused him enough set backs. He would not allow the man or his nephew to cause any more.

Thorold had first met Feiren when he had newly inherited his title as Duke of Comack. Though he was young and had just lost his father, Thorold knew exactly what he wanted when he arrived at his proper place in the king's council- power. Feiren had been the Captain of the Kingsguard of course, and old King Bodan made it obvious he considered him first amongst his advisors.

Ten years Thorold's junior, Prince Mattias was a sickly young man. Thorold made sure he befriended him and the prince had been forever grateful. When Thorold's oldest son had died, it had been easy to play on Mattias' sympathies, just as it had been natural for Thorold to comfort Mattias when his father, King Bodan passed away. Thorold had thought his closeness to King Mattias enough to secure his way in council, but the new king had still looked to Feiren Rowse for advice.

He'd persevered and when Feiren Rowse finally retired it was Thorold who had become the king's most favored advisor. But he'd underestimated his control over the king - Mattias had ignored his advice and appointed Kane Rowse to the Captaincy. He'd hidden his fury and outwardly welcomed the new Captain Rowse - his plans were so close to fruition that even Kane Rowse couldn't change things – but the man was a daily reminder of his failure to control Mattias.

The Captain of the Kingsguard was always part of the king's council and there had been a Captain Rowse for generations. Unfortunately the nephew had shown more subtlety and political awareness than his uncle. He was no match for Thorold though, and as soon as he held the throne he'd banish the Rowse's from Kingsreach, or worse. He didn't have long to wait now.

There was a knock on Thorold's study door and Fridrick entered.

"My Lord. You sent for me?" the scholar asked, bowing low.

"Yes. Get over here." Thorold motioned and Fridrick quickly moved to stand in front of his desk.

"I need to know what Feiren and Kane Rowse are up to," Thorold said. "I want to know where they go, who they see and who visits them."

"Of course my Lord," Fridrick said. "The Kingsguard are extremely loyal to them. I'll need to be very cautious."

"Just see that you're not so cautious you don't find out anything. Start with the party they held the night before last. It was more than it seemed, I'm sure of it." Thorold grabbed a paper from his desk and held it out. "This has some details. I need to know more."

"Yes my Lord." Fridrick shuffled forward, grasped the paper and stuffed it into the wide sleeve of his robe.

"On a different matter," Thorold said. "What else have you found out about this Brotherhood?"

"My Lord," Fridrick said. "I'm afraid I've been unable to find much else. Only the one family history that references a call or saying that will trigger the Brotherhood to action. Assuming they still exist. I've been looking for more on Wolde's daughter, Aruntun. Another passage refers to a vision she had of a new king."

"What about names? I need to know who belongs to this Brotherhood." Thorold clenched his fists. "I don't care if they've been dead for a hundred years. I need names."

"I apologize my Lord," Fridrick said and nervously bobbed his head. "I have not yet come across any family names, but I have hopes for a section of books in the Collegium library. They were found in a vault in the castle a short time ago and sent to the library. Apparently they've not yet been read and catalogued by the library clerks. I'll be looking into those very soon."

"Do it now. I have no time to wait." Thorold sat back as Fridrick scuttled from the room. No doubt the scholar was on his way to the Collegium even now. Good. What he'd told the man was true; he didn't have time to wait. King Mattias' health was deteriorating quickly, maybe even more quickly than he wanted, and he needed the information on the Brotherhood before the king died. If he could find the saying that triggered them, Beldyn could use it to solidify his power. Or more precisely, his father's power.

The moon was only at the quarter and hung low in the sky when Brenna exited the tunnel. This exit was one she'd used often in the past. It opened up into a dark yard near Collegium. She checked again for old steel. Good, there was none close by. She hunched her shoulders and entered the street, trying to look like another student hurrying to the library for some last minute studies. Her pack was slung over her shoulder, a small lamp tucked inside and her knife was belted at her waist. She pulled her shirt down to cover it.

Two streets later she walked along a wider, grander thoroughfare. She was now on the grounds of the Collegium. The large buildings were made of gray stone from the quarries in the Godswall Mountains. The fronts of the buildings were imposing with high columns flanking massive wooden doors. Stone steps worn by the feet of generations of scholars led into each of the five main Collegium buildings.

Originally each building had been dedicated to the discipline of one of the five old gods. Brenna could still make out the worn symbols of each god carved in stone along the roofline. A sheaf of wheat and a mortar and pestle for Ush the god of health and plenty; a scale and sword for Jik god of balance and order; the moon and fire for Anu, god of community; an open palm for Simi, god of understanding, and there, over the library, was the open book of Toru the god of knowledge. Even though students didn't necessarily worship the old gods they still learned their respective disciplines inside the buildings. The building marked with Ush was where healers were trained and every time she passed it Brenna wondered what potions and treatments could be found inside. No doubt many of the remedies that were common knowledge to the students would be new to her.

She entered the library through the double oak doors. With her head down she made her way to the section that held the plans and drawings of many of the old houses. Randell was seated a few tables away and she quickly slid behind a shelf of books. Seeing her alive could put him in danger.

After a few moments she peeked around the shelf. Randell had not moved so she edged to the end of the shelf farthest from him, then wove her way among shelves until she finally found the room she sought. A single lamp illuminated the room but it was empty except for the smell of musty books and furniture wax. She stopped beside one long shelf.

She hoped to recognize a book she'd seen before – one that detailed Duke Thorold's city estate. She'd glanced through it when she'd first come across it, of course, but with her new knowledge of Feiren's house she thought she'd have a better chance of deciphering it now. Her eyes settled on a faintly familiar book and she grabbed it from the shelf.

Brenna rubbed her eyes. She'd been at this for hours and had yet to find anything useful. She'd checked every book that had seemed even slightly familiar, with no luck. Frustrated, she'd starting choosing books at random but she still hadn't found the book she was looking for and the library would be shutting its doors soon. She sighed and emptied a spot on one of the lower shelves and folded herself into it. She needed more time so she'd have to wait until the library was closed for the night. She grabbed a few books and hid herself as best she could. A short while later she heard steps and then the lamp in the room went dark. She peered out from behind a book and watched the glow of lamplight fade down the hallway.

It was dark when Brenna set aside the books she'd hidden herself behind. Her eyes had adjusted to the level of light and she could dimly make out the shapes of the shelves. She concentrated for a moment and then flinched. Her head banged the shelf above her and she smothered an oath.

Instead of just listening she must have reached for old steel, because she'd found something. She reached again. Yes, there was definitely something there. It didn't feel the same as old steel weapons - similar, but not exactly the same. On her next search she found two more pieces of old steel, but these somehow felt purer than any old steel she'd felt before. They were close to the other object but not with it - and they pulled at her with an intensity that surprised her. Now that she knew they were there, she found it almost impossible to ignore them. When she finally managed to shut them out, she longed to open herself back up to them.

Brenna unfolded herself from the book shelf and stood up. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms above her head. She should keep to her plan but the old steel called her. She had to retrieve these three items. She padded over to the door. No lights showed in the hallway, nor could she hear anything. The library was empty.

Brenna reached for the old steel and followed it past stacks of books and tables to the very back of the library. It was the same section Randell had taken her to when he'd found the book with the passage about the Brotherhood. She'd disliked the layout of the room then and liked it even less now, in the dead of night. There was only one door into the room and no windows. She stopped. All her instincts told her not to do this, to leave and come back another night. But the pull from the old steel objects was so strong it was almost physical.

She sighed and stepped into the room. The shelves loomed large and dark in the gloom and there was just enough light for her to keep clear of the table and chairs. One of the objects was close. She mentally nudged it so it would glow but it was so faint that it took a few seconds before she saw it. She took a step and let her hand drift up to the top shelf.

It was a book, a very small book, and one likely to be overlooked by most any scholar. Splotches on the cover glowed dully before she clamped down on the light. Without a second thought she put the book in her pack. This was not what called her so insistently. On impulse, she whispered her mother's concealment spell over her pack. If it could hide her eyes maybe it could hide this book.

She checked for the other two objects and her breath caught at the strength of their pull. Her heart racing as though she'd run a few blocks, Brenna steadied herself and took a few calming breaths. She'd just grab these two items and go.

As she inched forward, she tried to locate the two pieces of old steel. They were a few paces in front and to the left. She tried to make them glow so she could find them, but the room remained dark. They should be right here, on the bottom shelf. She moved some books aside. Nothing. She tapped the wall. There. Did that sound different? The old steel was behind this wall. She sat down on the library floor. There must be a way to get these items out.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside of the room - someone was coming. Brenna clambered to the top shelf and wedged herself as far back against the wall as she could. She grabbed a few books to try to hide herself with, hoping no-one looked too closely at the top shelf.

A light glowed from the corridor outside of the room and she heard the sounds of conversation. Brenna's heart sank. Brothers, they were coming here, right into this room!

"Master Fridrick, this is most unusual," a voice said.

That was Randell and he sounded flustered. He should be at home with his nose buried in a book.

"Yes, but I'm on important business for Duke Thorold," the stranger with Randell said.

"And of course you understand that the duke's business is confidential, don't you?" Brenna recognized the threat in the man's voice. She peered around a book and saw Randell nod.

The other man was older than Randell. His bald head shone in the glare from the lamps. He was dressed in the long robes of a scholar and his face was hard and cold. Brenna shivered. She'd known men like him when she was a servant in Thorold's household. Men made mean by the duke, his tight grip on them twisting them until they'd do anything to try to loosen it, including hurting others.

Randell swallowed and looked towards the door. Brothers, there was a third man. From the size of him he must be the guard for this Master Fridrick. For the second time that night Brenna whispered her mother's spell, hoping that somehow it would keep her from being discovered. And for the first time since she'd come under the Brotherhood's protection she wondered if losing her trackers was always the best idea. Right now she'd welcome the presence of a few well-armed men who were sworn to protect her.

Brenna reached for old steel to see if any from the Brotherhood were close and was surprised that the third man carried a piece, a sword. Was he Brotherhood? But something didn't feel quite right, somehow and tentatively she probed the sword, like a sore tooth. She shuddered. The pairing of Thorold's man and his old steel weapon was very discordant. The song was raw and out of tune. Brenna quickly clamped down on the old steel to make sure it didn't react to her presence.

"Well, get on with it," Fridrick said impatiently. "You must have some idea of what's here."

"Yes sir, there's something in this book," Randell said.

She heard a book drop onto the table.

"Here it is, sir," Randell said. "This passage, right here."

"Move over." Feet shuffled for a moment.

"Ah, yes. 'And as King Wolde came unto his dotage he became ever fearful that his line would weaken and so plunge Soule once again into the chaos of war and conflict he'd raised it from.'"

This was the exact same passage Randell had found for her some weeks ago! What in the gods names was Duke Thorold doing looking for information on the Brotherhood?

"Very good. This is most helpful," the scholar said. "What else is there?"

"Nothing else my Lord." Randell sounded frightened. "I've not had a chance to fully sort through this section. These books only recently came from the king's storage. And I'm sorry my lord, but you can't take that book with you."

"Really? You're telling me that I cannot take a book to my master? How do you think Duke Thorold would react if he heard that?"

Brenna shivered at the coldness in the voice. Let him have the book Randell, she prayed.

"Oh, of course not, my Lord. Of course the duke can have the book. He can have it as long as he wishes, of course."

"That's better. Now, I will be back late tomorrow. I expect you to have catalogued every single passage in every single book in this room by then, am I understood?"

"Yes my Lord. Of course my Lord."

"Good. I suggest that you start now. Guard!"

Footsteps retreated down the hall and light dimmed. The bastards had even left poor Randell in the dark! She could hear the sounds of his erratic breathing. After a few minutes there was the rustle of feet and a thud and a muffled grunt of pain as poor Randell bumped into something on his way out of the room.

Brenna slowly moved her limbs. She'd spent more time wedged into book shelves than she'd spent searching them tonight. She quietly lowered herself to the floor and edged around the table to the door. She'd wager Randell would be back with a lamp as soon as he could. Cataloguing this section would take a long time. She hoped Randell could find enough about the Brotherhood to keep Thorold's men happy.

She'd have to come back for the old steel items later. They still called to her, but right now she had to get back to Feiren's. She needed to talk to Kane right away.

eleven

"You did what?" Kane couldn't believe it. He sprang from his chair and paced his uncle's study. "Brenna ..." he stopped. What to say to her? At least she had the decency to look guilty. He looked at Uncle Feiren, who only shrugged. Kane turned back the Brenna. "What were you thinking?"

She looked up at him defiantly. "I was thinking that a visit to the library late at night was the safest time for me to do it."

"But you could have been caught." Or worse, he thought. The orders for the Brothers who were watching her were going to change. The minute she stopped moving he wanted to know about it.

"But I wasn't," Brenna said, and when he glared at her she lifted her chin a little.

Oh, his orders would change - even if it meant he was woken up multiple times every night.

"You are too important to risk this way," Kane said. She'd been so close to real danger and she didn't seem to understand. Or care. "Brenna, the Brotherhood has waited two thousand years for you."

"Oh yes, the precious Brotherhood." Her voice was bitter. "What about me? Ever since I met you and your Brotherhood my life has not been my own. I'm shut up here for almost two months with no contact with anyone I know because they all think I'm dead."

"Brenna, you know that's for your own safety," Feiren said and Kane sent him a grateful look.

"Someone tried to kill you," Kane said. "And I might add, the Brotherhood has been protecting you ever since."

"I know, I really do understand," Brenna said. "You believe I'm the one prophesied about and that I'm destined to sit the throne. Except we already have a king. What am I supposed to do while I wait for him to die? Sit here and play games with the youngest members of the Brotherhood?" She glared up at him, brown and green eyes daring him to disagree with her.

Kane sighed and sat down in the chair seat beside her.

"All right," he said. "You need something to do. But you have to stay safe. Maybe we can send you down to the training school. Jik knows you can use some more work with the sword and staff." A thought struck him. "Do you know how to ride?"

"A horse? No," Brenna said. "I'm not sure I want to be put in a training class with students ten years younger than me."

"I hope you could help train them as well." She sent him a puzzled look. "You're helping to train the Brotherhood right now." He smiled at the disbelief on her face. "Some of them are becoming very good at tracking in the city because of you."

"But I check for old steel whenever I leave."

"I'm sure you do." Kane's smile widened at her puzzled look. "Which is why some don't wear old steel weapons. For the last three weeks I've had fewer reports of you being out of sight. I have detailed reports of where you've been and what you've been doing." Suddenly Brenna went very still. That was interesting. He'd need to look at the reports again and see if he could find out what she was up to.

"Sorry Uncle Feiren." Kane looked up at his uncle. "I didn't feel that it was my place to tell you Brenna was going out at night." Uncle Feiren looked at him for a few seconds before he nodded.

"No doubt you have your reasons," Feiren said. "I hope to hear them later. Right now we need to focus on what happened to Brenna. I didn't actually call you over here so you could lecture her."

Brenna snorted but Kane ignored her.

"Brenna has more to tell," Feiren continued. "Brenna?"

"Um, yes, well. I went to the library to try to find the plans for the house."

"Plans for what house?" Kane interrupted.

"This one, of course." Brenna shot him an innocent look. "We talked about recording all the exits for the house so I thought I'd start with the library."

"Why would you think there would be anything there?" Kane asked.

"I'm a thief, remember," she said. "And a very thorough one. There's a section in the library filled with building plans for many of the oldest structures in town. I mostly kept to the public ones, inns and such, but I've certainly come across plans for some of the older houses."

Astonished, Kane sat back in his chair. "There are public documents that may show some of the secrets of this house?" How much could have gone wrong over the years with this type of information out there? An even more uncomfortable thought struck him. "Have you come across any such drawings for the castle and grounds?"

"Yes, but you'd need to be a fool to try to steal from the castle." Brenna paused. "It would be very dangerous to try to sell that type of information."

"But worth a lot of money to the right buyer," Kane said. He rubbed his hand across his brow. "Uncle? Have you any knowledge of these records?"

Feiren shook his head. "No. I'd not known of them, nor do I think my father or great uncle. Surely no Captain of the Kingsguard would let these plans out of their hand."

"I must get them as soon as possible," Kane said. "Tonight." He started to rise but his uncle waved him back down.

"The lass isn't finished yet. Go ahead Brenna."

"All right," Brenna said. "So I was looking for plans for the house when I decided to check for Brothers, to see if I'd been followed. And I felt something. It wasn't old steel exactly, but it felt similar in some ways. I tracked it to a section of the library that has some very old books. Later I heard Randell; he's the head library clerk, say that these books had recently come from the castle. Anyway, what I felt was a book. A very small book that had the feel of old steel. So I took it."

From a pack that sat on the floor, Brenna pulled a tattered book. Kane reached out for it and the leather of the binding crackled under his hands. There were splatters on the front cover and he traced a finger along one. It was smooth to the touch and shimmered slightly.

"Something's been spilled here," he said as he turned the book over. The back of the book was almost completely covered in the shiny substance.

"Old steel," Brenna said and he looked up at her in surprise. "At least as far as I can tell. Here," she closed her eyes and he saw the splotches on the book glow unevenly. "But it feels out of balance somehow."

The splatters dimmed and Kane flipped the book open. "It's a work book," he said. "The Brotherhood has been searching for this for centuries." He tried to read the fine script but gave up after a few tries. The words crawled and wriggled across the pages. Magic, it must be. He gingerly laid the book on the table in front of his uncle.

"And we've finally found it," Feiren said. "I looked through it all ready. Between the spatters of old steel on the cover and drawings I could make out, I'm convinced this book holds the secret to forging old steel weapons."

Kane sat back and stared at the small book. All the documents they had made it clear that old steel was a key to restoring Wolde's line to the throne. Over the years Brotherhood families had died out and others had grown beyond their few weapons. Today many Brothers did not have old steel and others did not have the right type of weapon. Now they'd be able to change that.

"Do we know who can read this?" Kane asked.

"No," Brenna said. "But I can tell it doesn't match you any more than it matched your uncle. You know, the way your family swords match you."

Kane nodded. And the way she'd known that the knife the Guild Master's daughter had wasn't from their family.

"So you think the person whose family this is from will be able to read it?" He asked.

Brenna nodded.

"All right," Kane said. "I'll have Dasid look through the Brotherhood records to see who might be from an old blacksmith family." Finding the book was yet another sign that Brenna truly was the one prophesied. All the pieces were falling into place. And quickly, which he found a little disturbing. King Matthias was yet a young man.

"Dasid is already on his way here," Feiren said. "But Brenna still has more to tell."

Kane looked from his uncle to Brenna. How much more could there be?

"Um, yes." Brenna hesitated. "While I was at the library I heard a noise. As I said earlier, I hid on one of the bookshelves. Unfortunately, three people came into the room I was hiding in."

"Yes, very unfortunate," Kane said. Brenna shot him an annoyed look and he crossed his arms. She was annoyed with him? After she'd put herself in such danger? He stared at her until she lowered her gaze. There, that looked like a little remorse.

"One of the men was Randell," Brenna continued, her gaze averted from him. "The head clerk. Another one was obviously a guard of some kind and the third was a scholar. Randell called him Master Fridrick."

Brenna glanced at him and Kane felt a sudden chill. Fridrick was one of Duke Thorold's advisors. If he had found Brenna ...

"And that," Brenna continued. "Was when Randell mentioned that the books and scrolls in this section had recently come from the castle. Then Fridrick told Randell he had to find the information the duke was looking for. Information on the Brotherhood."

Kane sucked in a breath. How did Duke Thorold know about the Brotherhood? "Did Fridrick mention what they knew about the Brotherhood?"

"Not really." Brenna shook her head. "Fridrick must have told Randell what to look for earlier. Randell found and read the same passage he'd shown me when I first learned about the Brotherhood."

"I hope they are not able to learn more," Feiren said.

Kane could only nod in agreement

"That may be a problem," Brenna said. "Fridrick is going to return tonight. He charged Randell with cataloging the rest of the books before he returns. Which is impossible." Her smile was sad. "I don't want anything to happen to Randell. He's been a great friend for a lot of years."

"We'll figure out a way to help him," Kane said. And he would, as long as Brenna and the Brotherhood were not put at risk. "We must get any books that contain information about the Brotherhood. And the plans for the castle." That unnerved him. The castle could be vulnerable. "We'll go tonight."

"There's more," Brenna said and Kane sat back in his chair again. "I didn't mention it to Feiren yet either."

Kane looked at his uncle. He seemed rather bemused at Brenna's words.

"I did another search for old steel while Fridrick was there," Brenna continued. "His guard was wearing an old steel sword. But it was wrong. Not just mismatched the way Carolie's knife was. It felt as though the sword was in some way tainted by the guard."

Kane met his uncle's grim look. So that's what Thorold was doing with the old steel- arming his men. The question was, why?

"And I found more old steel there. At the library I mean," Brenna said. "It was very powerful." Brenna looked up at him in confusion. "There's just no other way to describe it. At first I thought it was on a bottom shelf, but it's buried behind the actual wall." She paused. "There are two items and they're calling me. It's a very strong call."

Kane watched her face. Brenna was definitely worried about these two items.

"We'll collect them when we head to the library tonight," he said. "I have full authority to seize any books or documents that may be a threat to the safety of the king or country. Dasid will come as well. I'll need a student who is familiar with the layout and contents of the library. Brenna, I think you already have a disguise?" She nodded. "You have to be careful. Randell must not see you. And if we meet Master Fridrick I want you to hide." He hated to bring her, hated the risk it put her in, but she was the only one who could locate the old steel. The book on forging old steel had been out in the open on a library shelf - by the old gods, what could be so important that it had been buried within the wall?

Brenna tugged her hat down low over her hair and trailed Dasid into the library. While Kane talked to an extremely flustered Randell, she and Dasid headed to the room that contained the plans. She shook her head sadly. Poor Randell. Not only did he have Fridrick to worry about, but now the Captain of the Kingsguard was demanding full access to the library. She tugged on Dasid's arm and steered him towards the correct shelves.

Before long a pile of books and scrolls covered the table. Kane had advised them to take anything that looked likely - they could always return books that were of no value to them. Brenna had taken Kane at his word and had added a few books on healing that she'd always found useful. And she'd found the book that held the plans to Thorold's estate. Over the latter she'd whispered her mother's concealment spell. If Dasid and Kane found the book, so be it, but if at all possible, she wanted that one for herself.

Dasid had found a large selection of scrolls that dealt with the castle and grounds as well as a leather bound volume that detailed Feiren's house. He'd chuckled when he'd spotted it. Brenna had pretended not to notice but she knew exactly where it was on the table. It looked much like the book on Thorold's estate, which gave her hope that there were shared secrets between the two houses. Dasid would be surprised when that particular book didn't make it to the Kingsguard offices at the castle. He'd get it eventually, but not until she'd looked at it first.

Soon they had sorted through all the shelves and Dasid went in search of Kane. Once he'd left the room, Brenna took the two books she wanted and hid them in her pack. Long ago Mistress Dudding had sewn a false compartment in her pack and the books fit in nicely. The weight of the pack would give it away but there was only a slight bulge when she slung it over her shoulders.

Brenna hid behind a shelf until Dasid came back.

"They'll be here soon," he said. "Time for the next stage of the plan."

"I'm off," Brenna said. She slipped from the room and crossed the hall to another shelf filled room. Randell and Kane must have finished their search of all the oldest books. Now they would bring them to this room so that all the books and scrolls destined for the Kingsguard could be catalogued. That should keep Randell occupied for some time and more importantly, keep him away from the room where he and Kane had just been. The room that held the old steel. Dasid would stay here with Randell.

Once Kane and Randell went past, she ducked out into the hall and headed for the back of the library. A small lamp lit the room and she edged inside and reached for old steel. There, towards the back. She followed it to the shelf along the back wall. This was where she'd hidden the night before. Brenna shifted books from the bottom shelf to the top. Yes, they were here, behind this stone. She heard the scrape of a boot on the floor and froze.

"Brenna."

She peered around a shelf. It was Kane.

"There you are," he said. "I've left Dasid with the librarian. I thought I should be here in case Fridrick shows up; the few references to the Brotherhood that we've found don't really add up to much. Have you found the spot?"

She nodded. "Right here, at the floor."

"I'll wait at the table. In case Fridrick does come it's better if I let my assistant do the work. Let me know if you need any help."

"It shouldn't be too long," Brenna said.

She crouched beside the bottom shelf and grabbed a small chisel from her pack. As she dug and scraped at the old mortar, Brenna's shoulders and wrists ached from the positions she was forced into. Soon enough a small pile of dust and mortar fragments littered the shelf and the floor around her. With a cloth she carefully scooped up as much of the debris as she could and tucked the cloth into her pocket. Anything she couldn't pick up she carefully swept under the bookshelf.

Brenna rolled her shoulders, leaned down and grabbed a corner of the stone with her fingers. The stone moved slightly and she pushed the edge of the chisel in behind her fingers. Painstakingly, she inched the stone forward. Once she'd wiggled it out enough she braced her feet against the wooden shelf and grabbed the stone with both hands. She tugged, hard. It was no use, she didn't have the strength. She rose, stretched the kinks in her back and arms, and then padded down the row. She peered out from behind a shelf. Kane was alone at the table, his head bent over a book, dark hair gleaming in the lamp light.

"Kane," Brenna whispered from behind the shelf.

He put the book he was reading down and glanced over at her.

"I need some brawn."

He nodded and stood up quietly. After a quick look out into the hallway he joined her.

She pointed to the partially extracted stone. "I can't get that stone out."

Kane quickly sat on the floor in front of the stone and braced his feet against the shelf. He grabbed the stone with both hands and with a low grunt, slowly slid it out from the wall.

The sound of stone grating on stone was loud in the quiet library. Brenna eyed the entrance to the room. No sound of anyone coming to investigate. She thought that even the Captain of the Kingsguard would have trouble explaining why he was dismantling the wall.

She glanced behind her. Kane had the stone completely out. Brenna ducked down and slid her arm into the hole. Her hand touched something dry and leathery and she grabbed it and pulled. It was heavier than she'd expected and there was a dry cracking noise as she dragged it from the wall. Once she had it out she backed up and let Kane edge the stone back into place.

Now that it was in her hands, the call of the old steel calmed a little. Brenna brushed her hand across the parched and cracked wrapping. Oh how she wanted to open this right now and run her hands across the metal that she knew would flash and warm to her touch.

The sound of stone scraping on stone stopped.

"Do you want me to take that?" Kane asked.

Brenna looked up, startled. Kane wiped a dusty hand on his breeches before he held it out to her.

"No, I've got it," she said and quickly shoved the item into her pack. What had she been doing? They had plenty of time to look at whatever it was later. Right now they had to make it out of here before Fridrick caught them.

Kane met her gaze and held it for a moment "All right," he said. "I'll take the watch again while you clean up." He stepped passed her and sat back down at the table.

Brenna quickly dusted the bottom shelf with a cloth and started to put the books back on it. Just as she finished she heard noise in the hallway and then a voice she recognized from last night.

"Clerk, clerk! Where is that One-God cursed clerk? I told him I expected ...Why Captain Rowse. How unusual to see you here in the library."

Brenna scowled when she heard the change in his voice. One minute he'd been sharp and angry and the next pleasant and sweetly polite. She knew that type well- her childhood had been made miserable by Thorold's household staff and advisors. Their smooth manners with the duke had given way to cruelty when dealing with those lower than themselves. And you didn't get much lower than the bastard child of an indentured servant.

"Master Fridrick," Kane said. "Good evening." Kane's voice was calm and Brenna relaxed a little. "You're right - I don't spend much time in the library. It seems some books from the castle were mistakenly sent here. Books I would rather keep in the hands of the Kingsguard. Some of them detail castle fortifications. The clerk told me the books in this section have just recently arrived from the castle."

"He told me the exact same thing but I had no idea some were here in error," Fridrick said.

"I'm sure most are fine but there are a few I'm reclaiming. I've a student digging around here somewhere helping me pick which ones to take. Pater, where are you boy?"

"Back here, Captain sir," Brenna called out. "Just getting a few books down from the top shelf." She pulled her hat down low over her head and grabbed a couple of books at random. "I thought these two looked likely, Captain," she mumbled. She kept her head down as she shuffled out into view, books held out to Kane.

He took a look at the cover of one book and with a light curse, tossed it onto the table. "It's difficult to find good help on such short notice," Kane said to Fridrick.

"That's so often the case, Captain," Master Fridrick agreed. "Men of accomplishment must suffer for the lack of good help."

"It is a burden," Kane agreed. "Boy, take these books to Dasid. Quick now." Brenna scooped up the pile and shuffled out the door.

"I'm afraid I must be off, Master Fridrick," Kane said. "Dasid has been checking the rest of the library and I'm late meeting him."

"If you see that clerk please send him my way," Fridrick said.

As she headed down the library corridor Brenna passed the same guard from last night.

"That was an old steel sword," Kane whispered when he caught up with her. "Was that the same man from last night?"

"Yes."

They turned a corner and entered the room where Randell and Dasid were. Brenna stepped behind a shelf, careful to keep herself in the shadows.

"Randell," Kane said. "We've interrupted you long enough. Master Fridrick is waiting for you in the back of the library. Dasid, I'm afraid you may need to wait until Randell has finished with Master Fridrick. It may mean you'll be here all night."

Dasid nodded. "I've spent the night in worse places. Randell, I'll go with you and let Master Fridrick know I'll be waiting for you."

Brenna could see the relief on Randell's face as he led the way out of the room. She slipped out from behind the bookshelf.

"Thank you," she said and smiled up at Kane. "For having Dasid stay and keep Randell safe."

"I promised," Kane said. "I hope it's enough. Doing anything more might raise Thorold's suspicions. Besides, Fridrick and Dasid detest each other. Fridrick will be livid once he understands that Randell is under Dasid's protection, but he won't do anything." He smiled and grabbed her arm. "Come on. Let's get home so we can see what treasures you've turned up."

twelve

Thorold scowled at Fridrick as he bowed low before him. It was late and he'd been enjoying a fine wine before retiring to enjoy a fine wench. If Fridrick had dared to interrupt him later ... Thorold disliked any interruptions, but some drew heavier consequences.

"I trust that this is so important it could not wait until the morning." Fridrick's hands twitched and Thorold smiled, satisfied that his scholar understood what he risked.

"Yes my Lord," Fridrick said. "I believe it is quite important, but of course, you may disagree with me." Fridrick raised his eyes to him and Thorold saw resignation and defeat there. Perhaps he'd go gently on the man tonight. If the scholar became too fearful be could become useless. He still had need of him.

"I went back to the library tonight," Fridrick said. "As I reported to you earlier the head clerk was cataloguing all references to the Brotherhood."

"And," Thorold leaned forward, "did you find anything of interest?"

"Yes and no. I still need to double-check the books. There seems to be only vague references in them to a prophecy and an heir to the throne. Something about reuniting the blood of Wolde." Fridrick paused and licked his lips nervously. "When I arrived at the library Captain Rowse was there. He was looking through the very books I was interested in."

"Rowse? Really?" Thorold sank back in his chair and sipped his wine. He'd need to think this through carefully. "And what did the good captain tell you he was doing?"

"He said books had mistakenly been sent over from the castle. Books about the castles fortifications. I could not be sure of course, and had no reason to question him further

"And did our good captain ask what you were doing in the library?"

"No," Fridrick's eyes widened. "He did not. Nor did I offer him a reason. But now that strikes me as odd."

"Yes." Thorold could only think of one reason why Rowse hadn't asked Fridrick what he was up to- he already knew. "And the library clerk, he knew what you were searching for?"

Fridrick lowered his head. "Yes, my Lord. I told him I was researching an old tale about the Brotherhood. He didn't know anything more specific than that, but he must have told Rowse. I'd be more than happy to discipline that clerk, my Lord Duke." Thorold smiled at the emotion in the scholar's voice. The man still had a spark. Good - it would be so tiresome to find and train a man with Fridrick's specialized skills.

"There's no need," Thorold said. "Rowse would know if anything happened to the man and there's no cause to alert him. It can't be a coincidence that he was searching through the same books as you. I'm sure now that he and his irritating uncle are connected to this Brotherhood. You've done well, Fridrick. "

"Thank you my Lord," Fridrick said. "As soon as I find anything about the Brotherhood in the books I'll let you know. And I'll pay particular attention to anything that might relate to the Rowses. If there is a connection, I'll find it."

"See that you do," Thorold, already deep in thought, waved his hand to dismiss the scholar. The Brotherhood was a tool he could use, he could feel it. They were waiting for some mythical king to take the throne. With his son, Beldyn, he could give them that king. And if the Rowses were connected to this Brotherhood, it could still be useful. He could use that to convince the king that they were traitors and be rid of both Kane Rowse and his uncle. Thorold finished his wine and rose to go to his bed. He was in a much better mood after Fridrick's little visit. Perhaps he'd be gentle with the wench, as well.

Her pack slung over her shoulder, Brenna climbed the stairs to her room. She and Kane had arrived back from the library and had immediately gone to Feiren's office. When she'd handed the wrapped bundle that contained the old steel objects over to Feiren, she'd felt such a deep sense of loss that she'd wanted to snatch them back from him. Those items belonged to her, she'd wanted to tell him - they'd called her. They still did.

Feiren had decided to wait until Dasid arrived before they opened it - he wanted to have a second council member present so she still didn't know what the objects were. They were certain that whatever it was would be of great importance to the Brotherhood. All Brenna knew was that they had an extremely powerful hold on her.

She still didn't believe she was the heir to the throne but each day she felt herself being drawn deeper into the Brotherhoods plans. But she had her own plans. Plans that would see Thorold fail in his attempt to gain control of the throne. She had to move on him soon though, before she found herself completely indebted to Kane and the Brotherhood.

Once in her room Brenna changed her student's disguise for black breeches and shirt. She withdrew the two books from the hidden compartment in her pack and opened the top one to the first page. It was a drawing of Feiren's house. Brenna smiled. She would hand this book over to Dasid when he arrived. She closed the book, put it to the side and picked up the second book. This was the book she'd hoped to find, the one that would help her sneak into Duke Thorold's estate.

It was a twin to the book on Feiren's house and once open, the similarities were even more apparent. If both houses were built by the same hand then many of the secrets could be the same - knowing Feiren's house would teach her what to look for at Duke Thorold's estate. But the houses had been built long ago and no doubt alterations had been done over the years - there were no guarantees Duke Thorold's estate even retained any of its original hidden passageways.

A soft tap on the door startled Brenna.

"Excuse me Mistress, but Master Feiren asks that you join them downstairs." It was the housekeeper, Kayleen.

"Fine. Please tell him I'll be there shortly." Brenna hastily hid the book she'd been reading in her pack's secret compartment, grabbed the other book and headed to the door.

In Feiren's study, Kane, Feiren and Dasid were already seated around the desk. They looked up when she entered and Brenna stopped, the call from the wrapped old steel loud in her head. Distracted, she placed the book in front of Dasid.

"I believe you'll be looking for this soon," she said.

He picked up the book and turned it over. "How did you get this out of the library?"

Brenna shrugged. "I'm a thief. I wanted this book here, not at the castle. It's about this house."

"I see that," Dasid said. He put the book down on the edge of the desk.

Brenna sat in the empty chair between Kane and Dasid and stared at the package from the library. Feiren fingered the covering absently.

"It's leather," Feiren said. "And very old from the look of it."

He tried to untie the knotted cord but it was too stiff. He slipped his knife out and sliced the cord. The knife flashed and she felt it react to the nearness of the wrapped items. She raised her eyes and met Feiren's perplexed gaze.

"You noticed that too?" she asked softly. He nodded and she turned to Kane. "The old steel knife reacted to whatever is in the bag. The usual hum seems deeper." Brenna ran her hand through her hair in frustration. "I wish I could explain it better than that."

Kane slipped his sword out and held it closer to the package.

"I feel something as well," Kane said. He slid the weapon back into its scabbard.

With careful fingers Feiren unwrapped the package. The brittle leather cracked and flaked as he manipulated it. Once open, two lumps of disintegrating cloth sat before them. With care, Feiren lifted a roundish lump and picked at the cloth. Bits of grimy metal showed through. As it became recognizable Brenna heard Kane's sharp intake of breath.

"By the gods," Kane said. "Can it really be it?"

"Be what?" Brenna asked.

The object was a very plain thin circle of metal darkened by years of grime. The sound of it rang loudly in her head and its song urged her to pick it up. She dragged her attention away from it when Dasid answered.

"Wolde's coronet," Dasid said softly, his eyes fixed on it. "It was lost during the time of King Marco."

"Not lost," Kane spoke from her side. "It was hidden, waiting for the right person to find it. If this was hidden during Marco's time then this coronet has never crowned a king who worships the One-God." Kane looked directly at Brenna. "There can be no doubt the prophecy is in motion and we have found the true heir."

"No," Brenna blurted out. She met Kane's eyes and then quickly looked away. "It's not true. I'm not the heir."

"It is true," Kane said firmly. "You said yourself that these items called you."

She refused to look at him, or the coronet. Instead she concentrated on her booted feet. She couldn't be the heir - she didn't want to be the heir. Everything that had happened was a coincidence, it must be. She had her own plans, her own path to follow. And yet she heard the coronet's song. Brenna shook her head and ignored the stares of the three men. And there was still the second package. It too called her.

"So that's Wolde's coronet," Brenna said. "Then what's the other item?"

"Time to find out," Kane said. "Go on Uncle Feiren, unwrap it."

Feiren reached out to the second package and unwrapped it gently.

"By the Brothers," Brenna said. "What does that have to do with the coronet?"

"What is it?" Dasid asked. "Some kind of cup?"

"No." Brenna couldn't believe it herself. "It's a mortar and pestle. You use it to grind things up, mostly plants and such. I use one in my healing to make poultices and healing teas. Cooks use them for spices." Bewildered, she looked around at their confused faces. "But it's rare to find one made of steel. They're usually hard stone, like marble." The stout bowl of the mortar was clearly made of the same metal as the coronet, and when she looked, she knew it was old steel. The bowl of the mortar was not much bigger than her cupped hand and it sat on three squat legs. The pestle, nestled inside the bowl, was smooth underneath the centuries of grime.

"Why wouldn't they be made of steel? I would think any metal would be durable," Kane asked.

"The material can slightly change how the final mixture works, or so my mother always told me. Cooks say steel spoils the flavor," Brenna answered distractedly. The mortar and pestle called her as well, but where the coronet was a strident demand, the mortar and pestle was a gentle promise. "Maybe that's the point. Maybe whatever you make with it is changed by old steel."

"I'll check the records to see if there's any mention of that," Dasid said. "I doubt I would have paid a lot of attention to records that described healing or a mortar and pestle.

"What do you feel from it, Brenna?" Kane asked.

She looked up from the items on the desk. How long had she been staring at them?

"It's a very soft call," she said. She deliberately described only the mortar and pestle. There was no need for Kane to know how insistent the coronet called her "And gentle."

Brenna drifted, caught up in the song of the mortar and pestle. Suddenly the coronet came to life and she started at its shrill demand. Feiren rewrapped it and placed it in the centre of the desk. Brenna looked at the leather wrapped lump and shivered. She ignored Kane's frown and crossed her arms over her chest. Let him think whatever he wants to, I'm not the heir. Even if she was she wouldn't want to rule. Kane would just have to accept it. And so would the coronet.

"I'm afraid we're not finished for the night," Kane said after a few moments. "There's the issue of Duke Thorold. He obviously knows something about the Brotherhood. And after tonight he'll suspect we're involved."

"Nor do we know how he plans to use any knowledge he may have," Feiren said somberly. "I'm uncomfortable that he even knows enough to search for more information."

It made Brenna more than uncomfortable. When Thorold turned his attention to something or someone, very soon it was twisted or dead. It might be wise if she got clear of the Rowse's now that Thorold had his eye on them.

During the next four days Dasid often dropped by to give them more information on the objects they'd found. The Brotherhood's records did mention the mortar and pestle. The old scrolls named it Aruntun's, which made Brenna uneasy. Aruntun had been both a Seer and a healer. Brenna had only had the one vision, but Sabine Werrett had been convinced she had Seer's eyes.

Both the coronet and the mortar and pestle continued to call to her. More than once Feiren had come across her stopped, head cocked to one side as she listened. She'd simply smiled and gone on her way but she knew he had questions. She didn't want to admit the pull the two old steel items had on her – she didn't want the Brotherhood to see it as more proof of their precious prophecy. She was not going to let them force her into a life she didn't want.

Dasid joined her a few times and with the book of plans in hand, they'd searched the Rowse estate. Brenna had surprised him with the hiding spot for the dining room and between them they recorded nine secrets. Later she'd huddled in her room with the second book and looked for similarities in Duke Thorold's house.

She was certain she'd found some possible entrances - now she needed to find out if they still existed. The fourth night after the trip to the library she donned her student's garb and headed out one of the passages. Mindful of Kane's warning about Brothers without old steel, she took extra care. Silently she slipped through deserted alleys and over roof tops. Once she even climbed into and out of a walled courtyard. Finally confident that she had lost all her trackers, she headed towards Duke Thorold's estate.

Brenna walked by the gate and once again the guard's interest in her was cursory. When she was out of sight she ducked into some bushes. She was directly across from the wall, near a path that dropped down towards the river. There was probably a secret entrance in the actual wall, but she couldn't search there \- the duke's groundskeepers kept the walls free of trees and hedges so the guards had a clear view. She had to try another way.

After two hours of searching, she found it. She had wedged herself into a small hollow, beside a large rock where the plans had marked something. She had to feel around the edges of the rock three times before her fingers recognized a shape from one of Feiren's entrances. She gripped the rock and twisted.

There was a slight grating noise and then the rock slid open a crack. A rush of stale air puffed out and Brenna sat back on her heels and waited. There was no light from inside and no alarm sounded at the house. She eased the entrance open enough to squeeze inside. After a few minutes her eyes adjusted to the dark and she shuffled forward a few steps. Roots of trees and cobwebs clutched at her and she pulled her hat down low to keep her eyes clear. It looked like the tunnel had not been used for years - she hoped it was still clear all the way to the house. She carefully backed out into the night. She'd come back later with a small lamp and explore further. A few moments later, the entrance carefully concealed, she headed for home.

Over the next few weeks Brenna discovered another way in to Thorold's estate. She'd been able to investigate both entrances enough to know they were still functional. Once she'd dared to open the passageway at the other end and had stepped into what she thought was a servant's hallway in Thorold's manor. She'd spent just enough time to make sure she understood how the latch worked from the inside, and then she'd left. She had two ways in to the Duke's estate and one way out. It was time to find Thorold's office and the information she was looking for - information that would implicate him in a plot with the King of Langemore against King Mattias.

Once again Kane thanked the gods for Brenna's network of informants. He was in the small room behind the bar at the Wheat Sheaf with Eryl. The thief's mates guarded the room's two doors.

"Duke Thorold is asking questions, is he?" Kane asked. Master Arlott's hat sat on the table in front of him and his fingers absently traced its brim.

"That's right," Eryl said. "Somethin' about a Brotherhood. And he's spending plenty of crowns to find out about it. He's looking for books, papers, family histories; anything folk might have got from far off relations that died without more direct kin."

"Is he having any success?"

Eryl's smile was feral. "Duke Thorold's had some luck getting his hands on a few things." He sipped his ale. "He let his guards handle the deals. I hear they wasn't too clear on what they were looking for. I also hear the duke was angry that he'd paid good coin for fake papers. It's unfortunate that no one in the Quarter knew the men who'd sold the items to the duke in the first place."

"Excellent," Kane said and laughed. Trust Thieves Quarter to fleece Duke Thorold. "Eryl I will gladly pay double whatever the Duke is offering for any real documents."

Eryl nodded and Kane smiled. He doubted there was much out there about the Brotherhood - at least not in Kingsreach – but Thorold might have come across a family history in Comack. That could be how he'd come know about the Brotherhood.

"Thorold," Eryl said. "Is now sending his pet scholar Fridrick to verify each item before payment is received."

"I think I can send you a few items that can qualify," Kane said. "There is no real reason to force the duke to keep his crowns is there?" Kane would put Dasid to the task. Surely the Brotherhood had some documents that were either totally harmless or downright misleading.

"It'd be a shame to have a man lookin' to spend his coin and there be nothin' for him to buy," Eryl agreed.

A few hours later Kane sat with Feiren and Dasid in his uncle's study. Brenna was nowhere to be found and at this late hour Kane guessed she was out roaming the streets. Even after the incident at the library he hadn't been able to discourage her - but he had to admit his efforts were half-hearted at best. He and his uncle disagreed on this.

Uncle Feiren believed that Brenna must be protected at all costs. She was the key to the future of the country. Kane agreed she was the key but she was also much more than that. As the true heir she was the catalyst that set events in motion. In the short time she'd been with them they already had more and better sources of information - and she'd found the coronet and the book on forging old steel. The Call was look to me to save the line. The Caller was heir to the throne and the leader of the Brotherhood. They had to treat her as such. And his uncle, though he would deny it, was more protective of Brenna because she was a woman.

For Kane, a major challenge would be to get the council – including his uncle - to take direction from Brenna. But it was critical that it happen. Every day he lived with the realities of a king who did not lead well - he would not be responsible for diminishing Brenna's authority. She must make her own decisions. He would protect and advise her, but the decisions were hers to make. The truth of it was that he had more confidence in Brenna's decisions than he had in King Mattias'. And a part of him hated that.

He prayed that his king lived a long and productive life, but Brenna had the potential to be a much stronger ruler. He'd sworn two oaths and he was afraid of the choice he'd have to make, because Brenna was what Soule needed, and soon.

"Uncle," Kane said. "I'm going to have Dasid handle the contacts in the Thieves Quarter from now on. He and I have spoken about this and we both agree that with Thorold sniffing around, it's better if we keep any Brotherhood business as far from the Rowse estate as possible."

"Yes, of course," Feiren agreed. "It makes sense."

"I also want to start removing all the Brotherhood documents from the house. I don't trust Thorold not to engineer a search." His uncle's smile faltered. He'd dedicated his whole life to preserving the records and to not have access would be a blow.

"I suppose that would be for the best," Feiren said and sighed deeply. "And only what I deserve."

"What do you mean?" Kane was puzzled.

"It's my fault Thorold detests this house, after all. When King Bodan was alive I wasn't always patient with Thorold. And now he's been such a challenge for you, Nephew. So, let him come here and find a doddering old man who spends his days reading."

"Brenna should leave as well," Kane said. "Thorold does not know about her, but if he connects her to the dead healer and the attempted theft of the knife, we're lost."

Thorold slammed the papers down on the table and Fridrick flinched.

"Useless, utterly useless," he said about the documents Fridrick had brought him.

"They are absolutely genuine my Lord," Fridrick said hesitantly.

"I'm sure they are. But how am I to get any useful information from a one thousand year old market list?" He grabbed the top sheet and bits of paper flaked off and fluttered in the candle light. "Two chickens, one block of cheese, two barrels of beer, four loaves of bread." He crumpled the paper up in disgust. "Where are the names?"

"The document clearly states that it's for a Brotherhood meet, my Lord. I thought you were looking for proof that they existed."

"What I'm looking for," Thorold said quietly, "is proof that it exists today. For that I need names, places of residence, something, anything, which can be traced through time to someone alive now. And if it can be traced to Feiren Rowse and his nephew then so much the better. Get out of my sight and find me something useful." Fridrick quickly bowed and left the room. There had to be a way to tie the Brotherhood to Rowse. Feiren Rowse was involved, he knew it.

Just as he'd known there was something unusual about that healer's knife. What was her name? Ah yes, Wynne. She was quite a comely woman, and for a time, very pliant in his bed. But then she'd tried to kill him and he'd turned her own knife on her. Her very ancient knife. When he'd held it and cut her with it, it had felt alive in his hand. There had been magic in the knife that night, though he'd never felt it again. Still, he'd been collecting old weapons ever since, hoping to find the key to that magic. That had led to the discovery of documents about the Brotherhood. The two were connected somehow - the Brotherhood and the old weapons. He hadn't yet figured out how, but he would. A hunch told him that Feiren Rowse was at the centre of it.

thirteen

At Kane's nod, Brenna dropped her staff. It was hot today. It was summer and the markets would be filled with local food - plump berries, crisp lettuces and fresh herbs. Corn would be ready to harvest soon, with peppers not far behind. In the past Brenna had spent many summer days at Pater's fruit cart, sampling the first of the crops as they came in.

She wiped her sleeve across her forehead. Not this summer. Instead she was stuck in this walled-in yard learning to use weapons she'd likely never need once she'd avenged her mother's death. When that was done she wanted a quiet life in a small town somewhere, maybe in Aruntun. At least there her eyes weren't likely to get her sent to prison. And hopefully she'd be out of the Brotherhood's reach. Even if she was their heir, she didn't want to rule Soule. And really, there was hardly a less likely person to put on the throne than a thief like her.

"You're getting much better with the staff and sword, Brenna," Kane said. He picked up her staff and settled it, along with his own, in the rack beside the door to the house. "But I think you need more time and a different teacher. You should really spend time at a real weapons training school."

"I think you and Feiren are doing a fine job," Brenna said. "You are both captains, what more do I need?"

"Both Uncle Feiren and I are adequate, but you would benefit from instruction by someone with a lot more experience training recruits." Kane stopped in front of her. "I also think it would be best if you were out of Kingsreach. You could go to the new training school."

"I'll agree to leave Feiren's house," Brenna said. "But I'm not convinced I need to leave Kingsreach. And I told you, I won't go train with a school full of youngsters. And when exactly did you decide my future?" How could he possibly believe he could simply arrange her life? She'd thought he knew her better than that. She crossed her arms over her chest and met his gaze, prepared for an argument. To her surprise, Kane nodded and grinned.

"I thought this would be your reaction," he said. "I told my uncle that a ruler – or heir for that matter – who can't determine their own course is no better than what we'll have with Thorold's son on the throne. Clean up and meet me in my uncle's study. We need to discuss this - it really is time for you to leave this house."

Brenna followed him inside and headed to her room to clean up and change. Kane's reaction had thrown her. She'd expected him to tell her what she should do - instead, he'd been pleased that she'd not simply agreed with his plans. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

Both men were already in Feiren's study by the time she got there. Feiren was seated behind his desk while Kane paced in front of it. The room was quiet, but from the looks on their faces they'd been arguing. With a nod to each of them Brenna sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Kane sat down beside her and Brenna settled deeper into her chair.

"So, Feiren Rowse," Brenna said. "Kane tells me I need to figure out my future."

"Yes," Feiren said. "As much as I hate to see you leave I think for your own safety you should. And sending you to continue your weapons training in the new school is ideal. I know you've already turned it down, but I think that would be best."

"I appreciate all you've done for me Feiren," Brenna said. "But the answer is no. I don't even know where this training school is. I hope you haven't built it in Comack?"

"No lass," Feiren said. "It's in Fallad."

"At least you have that much sense," Brenna said.

"We wouldn't put it any where that Duke Thorold could monitor it, if that's what you mean," Kane said.

"He'd do more than monitor it," Brenna said softly. "Duke Thorold controls everything in Comack, even the church. He twists the laws to suit his purpose and obtains loyalty with bribes and fear. If he thought something was even the slightest bit threatening – which of course a training school would be - he'd take it over or burn it to the ground. And it would all be legal. At least according to how the laws are used in Comack."

Kane nodded. "I've received information for years that this has been happening but I have no proof. I've never been able to document anything specific enough to confront him with."

"I can give you something specific," Brenna said and leaned forward. "My grandmother was a healer traveling through Comack. She was accused of being a witch and had a bond placed on her. The man who made the accusation was a noble who then bought her bond, even though that's not legal. Finally, the noble set the value of my grandmother's work very low and the cost of her upkeep high. He literally enslaved her by ensuring that she would never be able to pay off her debt to him. Once my mother Wynne was born the costs of caring for her were added to the tally against my grandmother. When my mother turned sixteen her bond was sold to Duke Thorold, who promptly took her to his bed. The cycle started all over again when I was born."

"By the gods." Feiren said. "I had no idea Duke Thorold was committing such evil."

"Thorold fathered you," Kane said. "That means you carry one of Wolde's bloodlines."

"That's true," Feiren said, surprised. "You should have told us, lass."

Both men looked at her but Brenna remained silent. She wasn't Thorold's bastard, but they didn't need to know that.

"I still don't see how Thorold can twist the laws like that," Kane said at last. "The law states clearly that a child of an indentured servant is not to be considered indentured. They have done no wrong that requires payment of a debt."

Brenna's breath caught in her throat and she suddenly felt cold. Was that true? All those years and she'd never legally been indentured? Her heart twisted and she stifled a sob. Her mother had never been legally indentured either! Brenna hugged her arms tight to her body and closed her eyes.

"Charging the parent the costs of keeping a child fed and clothed is permitted," Kane said. "But the child is free and must be compensated for any work they do."

Brenna opened her eyes and stared at the old steel on the wall behind Feiren. If she let them, the weapons would glow red hot with her anger. Duke Thorold had much to answer for. And by the old gods he would answer to her.

"Usually," Kane continued. "Wages that a child earns are applied to the cost of their upkeep. The bondholder must track the child's wages and settle up the accounts no later than the child's sixteenth birthday. In no way does the bond holder have the right to sell the child into servitude."

"Can Thorold have changed the laws in Comack to allow for this?" Brenna was surprised that her voice sounded normal. She unclenched her hands and tried to relax her shoulders.

"No," Kane said quietly. "The laws governing bonds and indentured servants can only be changed by the king and his council. That hasn't happened yet, although Thorold and the High Bishop continue to petition the king."

Brenna sat back in her chair. Her anger seeped away and what was left was bitter despair. Her mother should never have been indentured. Thorold had forced her into his bed and then he'd killed her and all the time he had no right, no right at all.

Brenna let the conversation swirl around her as she struggled with what she'd just learned. Oh how Thorold must laugh at the ignorance of his people. Poor lack-witted commoners didn't know the laws and likely couldn't read enough to learn them. Thorold must pay for this. She had to search his office soon. There had to be evidence of his treasonous agreement with the King of Langemore. And she would find it.

By the end of the discussion Brenna had refused to commit to any of Feiren's or Kane's suggestions. She'd made a decision of her own. After she brought Thorold down she would travel to Aruntun. She would let the other healer's family know what had happened and try to find her grandmother's family. For years she'd had her network searching for her grandmother, but there had never been even one word about Madelay Trewen. Brenna wasn't even sure she was still alive.

When Dasid placed an old ledger on the desk Kane glanced up.

"Here," Dasid's finger pointed to a faint line of script. "This sounds about right. Healer Madelay from Aruntun, convicted of using witchcraft, is indentured to Lord Pantall of Comack. I can't make out the bond price but it does mention more charges to apply once the child is born. This must be Brenna's grandmother." Dasid sat down across from Kane. "Why didn't you ask her why she kept her relationship to Thorold a secret?"

"I can't just force her to give me information," Kane said. "I need her to trust me." Kane peered over the spidery script. The Kingsguard required each duchy to send copies of all convictions and judgments to them in Kingsreach. It was rare that records as old as these were referred to, but they were all here. He and Dasid had been searching through them for hours.

"I think that's what we're looking for," Kane said. "Good work. Now we need to find out about Brenna's mother. Let's just see if Lord Pantall recorded anything about Brenna's mother. Her name was Wynne and she was sixteen when she went to the duke. Kane pushed the book to the side. "Trying to force Brenna to tell me anything would just make her angry - and that would not further the Brotherhood's cause."

"No, of course not," Dasid said. He picked up another record book. "But I hope she decides to trust us soon."

"So do I," Kane said. "For the sake of Soule, so do I."

They spent the rest of the day fruitlessly searching the records. There was no mention of a healer or indentured servant named Wynne either leaving Lord Pantall's household or entering Duke Thorold's. Next they looked for any mention of Brenna. Her mother had lived on Duke Thorold's estate from the age of sixteen and Brenna must have spent her childhood there - it explained why she was so interested in Duke Thorold. Thorold wouldn't treat his bastard kindly and Kane couldn't imagine Brenna allowing someone to treat her poorly, not once she was old enough to do something about it. She'd probably run away.

If it was a legal indenture, which he suspected it was not, there should be a record of a runaway. But they'd found no entries about either Brenna or her mother. He could only assume that Thorold had been twisting and misusing the law in order to secure what amounted to slaves. Kane had never liked the man, but now he was thoroughly disgusted. How many others were in the same situation in Comack? Duke Thorold had to be stopped. Kane thanked the old gods that the prophecy was already in motion. If Duke Thorold gained more control much of Soule's peasantry would find life very difficult.

Brenna rolled her shoulders to try to loosen them up. She was inside one of the walls of Duke Thorold's estate. The servants had finished up for the night and had just gone to their quarters. Soon it would be time for her to find Duke Thorold's study. She expected sturdy locks and clever hiding places, so tonight she wanted to do a quick survey to figure out which tools she needed to bring with her next time.

Brenna silently stretched as the household settled for the night. When the house had been silent for over an hour, she gently eased the panel open. It was time. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the moonlight that spilled into the hall from windows in adjoining rooms. She placed a small piece of twine between the panel and the wall to ensure she could get out.

As she'd suspected from her previous visit she was in a servant's hall. Her soft-soled shoes made no sound on the wooden planks of the floors as she stepped to an open doorway and peered into a room. An office. Too close to the servants' quarters to be Duke Thorold's, though. She glided in and studied a few items on the desk. Accounts and orders for household goods, that was all.

The rooms only door was the one she'd come through. She took a few minutes to feel along the walls for a hidden entrance - she didn't want to be caught by someone using a secret passageway. She made a second pass over the walls in the opposite direction. Either there was no secret entrance or it was a mechanism that she was unfamiliar with – not something she wanted to dwell on.

Brenna stepped back to the doorway. She oriented herself to her escape route before she entered a second office. She smiled when she saw what was on the desk. The old Brotherhood list sat on top of the desk, crumpled and a little worse for wear. She'd laughed when Kane had shown it to her before he'd passed it on to Eryl. Master Fridrick's office, then. She quickly checked this room for secret entrances.

At the farthest end of the hallway was the door to the kitchen. The door was closed and Brenna wanted it to stay that way. The kitchen was the last room asleep and the first room awake in any large house.

She leaned back against the hallway wall. She'd already spent three hours in the house and it was time to go. She hadn't gotten close to Thorold's study, nor had she found another entrance, so she'd need to use this same one. She didn't like it - it was too far from Thorold's study. But Kane wanted to leave in one week and she was running out of time. She just needed to confirm where his study was.

The old steel he'd been collecting was probably in his study so Brenna searched for it - and sank to the floor with a small moan.

She had no idea how long she'd been slumped on the floor before she was finally able to lurch to her feet and stumble the few steps back to the secret panel, open it, and stagger inside. Her head throbbed and she closed her eyes and leaned against the inside wall.

She'd found her mother's knife. Thorold had kept it all this time. The feel of Thorold's guard bearing old steel had been painful - it had jarred her nerves and made her teeth ache. But her mother's knife radiated real pain, real anguish.

Old steel was linked with the blood of its bearer. How else to account for the knife's anguish at having spilt the blood it was tied to? With a rough hand Brenna wiped her tears. No doubt Thorold found that amusing, that he'd killed someone with their own knife. He'd probably find it even more amusing if he knew how the knife itself suffered. Oh, the knife wasn't really aware, not in the way people were, but after generations of use by a single bloodline it had achieved a kind of consciousness and connection to those who carried it. And it recognized Wynne Trewen's spilt blood as part of itself.

Beneath the waves of torment that came from the knife Brenna felt it call her. As her mother's daughter she too had a blood tie to the knife. She inched the secret passage open and peered out into the hallway. She knew what direction she needed to go. It would just take her a moment to grab the knife.

Muffled steps sounded and Brenna froze when she heard a door open and close. The kitchen. Gently she eased the passage door back into place. The house was starting to wake – she'd need to come back. She turned and made her way back down the musty tunnel and outside where she huddled against the embankment, her hat pulled low over her head.

As her tears dried on her cheeks, her anger against Duke Thorold strengthened. He'd taken her mother away from her when he had no right to. She would not let him keep her knife. As the sky lightened towards dawn Brenna headed back to Feiren's house. She needed to get some rest because she was coming back to collect her mother's knife as soon as possible.

fourteen

Kane frowned. Brenna wasn't awake yet. He had a report that she'd been out again last night and hadn't gotten back to Uncle Feiren's until early this morning. At least he knew she was safe. He fidgeted at the bottom of the stairs as he waited for the housekeeper to fetch her.

Brenna had so little time left in Kingsreach and there was still so much to do. Today he hoped to find someone who could forge old steel weapons. Dasid had pinpointed the era when the secret had been lost and had found descendants of smiths who'd worked in Kingsreach then. Kane and Brenna were late to meet them.

He glanced at the stairs. Where was she? The three men would be down in the caverns already. Only one of them was currently a smith, an elderly man named Innis - the other two were merchants of one sort or another. He heard a footstep and looked up at a pale and disheveled Brenna.

"By the gods are you all right?" Kane asked, his anger displaced by worry. "You look like you've been dragged through the river." There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair hung limp and damp after an obviously hasty wash. She slowly descended the steps, her shoulders slumped in fatigue.

"Thanks," she said. "It's always nice to be complimented. And I'm fine. Just a long night."

"Anything I should know about?"

"No, everything is fine," Brenna said. "I'm starving. Can we stop by the kitchen first?"

"Dasid has arranged a meal in the cavern," Kane said. "You can eat there." He led the way to one of the hidden passage doors.

Kane was amazed. Brenna had been hungry - she'd eaten as much as any of the five men at the table. But despite her healthy appetite, she was still subdued and pale. Something was wrong. He wished again that she trusted him.

"Now that we've all eaten," Kane said. "I'll get to the reason why you've all been invited here."

"Like I told Dasid Addems," the man closest to Brenna gestured across the table at Dasid. "I'm a merchant, not a smith."

"Yes, I know," Kane said. "But in the past there was a smith in your family. In all your families. Brenna found a notebook that we believe describes how to forge old steel. None of us, including Brenna, can read it."

"It has some kind of spell on it," Brenna said.

"And you think one of us will be able to read it?" asked Innis.

"We hope so," Kane said. "We think that a descendant of the person who wrote it will be able to decipher it."

"Here's the book," Dasid said. He pulled the worn notebook from his shirt and placed it on the table.

"Not much to look at," Innis said. He leaned over to get a closer look. "But my workbooks get like that after a while, too."

"Brenna says it's covered in old steel," Dasid said. His hand brushed across the gray splotches on the leather cover. "This book was found here in Kingsreach. Your families were smiths here when this book was written."

"If someone who is not a smith can read it," Kane said. "We'll pair you with one. The Brotherhood has not forged new weapons for fifteen hundred years. The Caller has come forward, but the prophecy has only begun. Our records say the Brotherhood must be fully armed with old steel weapons." He searched each face intently. "If we cannot arm the Brotherhood in time, I fear for Soule."

"Master Innis," Brenna said. "This notebook belonged to your family and I think you'll find that old steel is forged using the blood of those the weapon is being made for."

Surprised, Kane looked at Brenna. Forged with blood? When did she discover that? What else was she hiding? She met his eyes and looked away. If he was to be of any use to her as an advisor he had to gain her trust, but that seemed impossible in the few days she had left in Kingsreach. He sighed - he knew what he had to do. Whatever she decided to do, wherever she decided to go, he must go with her. He would have to give up his life in Kingsreach – who knew when they could be back? But if it meant the prophecy would be fulfilled, he had no choice.

"Here you are, Master Innis." Dasid placed the notebook in the smith's hand and Kane watched as the old man stroked the cover reverently.

"It feels like it's mine," Innis said. "That doesn't make sense, but there you have it." He carefully opened the book. "This is a record of how to forge weapons for the Brotherhood of the Throne," he read. His voice was tentative at first and then grew stronger. "I, Gareth Farrer, record this for the benefit of all my descendents for use in the service of the Brotherhood." Innis looked up at them and a slow smile spread across his face. "I don't recall anyone in the family by the name of Farrer but I must be one of his descendants. I'm honoured to be able help the Brotherhood."

"Can you start right away?" Kane asked.

"I won't be able to rest until I've read the book through anyways," Innis said and he grinned. "Now, I'd best be off." He stood up. "I'll need to get my apprentices working hard so's I can free up my time for this. The Brotherhood can count on me." He closed the notebook and placed it inside his vest. With a nod he turned and left the cavern.

"Dasid, keep in touch with our smith," Kane said. "Help him get whatever he needs to start this work." He turned to the other two men. "Thank you for your time. It looks as though we won't need you after all."

"I'm a little disappointed," said one of the merchants. "Even though I'm not a smith. It would be a fine thing to aid the Brotherhood."

"I'm sure your help will be needed some day," Dasid said. "But now, I'll show you both out." Dasid led the two merchants down one of the tunnels.

"When were you going to tell me you knew a little about how old steel is made?" Kane asked Brenna. He walked behind her through the tunnel that led into the house.

She hesitated, her hand ready to push open the secret panel.

"I didn't know until recently," she said without turning around.

She pushed the panel aside and he followed her into the sitting room.

"You could tell me how you knew," Kane said.

"I just knew, that's all," Brenna said. "Like most things with old steel, I can't explain it." She brushed past him and into the hallway.

Kane heard her feet race up the stairs and he sighed. Leaving Kingsreach with Brenna was what he needed to do. She'd learn to trust him on their journey. She had to. But by leaving Kingsreach with her he would be breaking his oath to his King. He would not break one oath and then not fulfill his older, earlier oath to the Brotherhood. Brenna had to learn to trust him. She had to.

Brenna sipped her tea slowly. Before dinner Kane told her he wanted to talk to her in private. He'd been very pleasant during the meal but she didn't think she could delay him anymore. After his questions this afternoon she thought she knew what he wanted to talk about.

She hadn't meant to reveal the information about the blood but Master Innis had seemed so nice - and so excited to do important work for the Brotherhood - that she'd wanted to help him.

Brenna liked the Brothers she'd met. They'd been very generous to her, especially Feiren and Kane - she truly hoped they succeeded in whatever they needed to do. But she didn't want to lead. Just because she had two of the bloodlines didn't mean she was the one they were looking for. She refused to believe it. She swallowed the last of her tea and put her empty cup down. She couldn't put this off any more.

"Ok, let's talk," Brenna said.

Kane pulled her chair out and she followed him to the sitting room. Once there she nervously paced the room.

"Please, sit," Kane said. He gestured to one of two cushioned chairs pulled up by the fireplace.

She sat down and Kane took the chair across from her. He leaned back and smiled at her and Brenna clenched her hands. What was wrong with her? It was Kane. All he wanted to do was talk to her.

"There's no reason to be nervous. I'm perfectly harmless, really," Kane said.

"I doubt that," Brenna said. He smiled and she relaxed a little. "This all seems so formal. You requested my time hours ago and didn't invite Feiren." The fact that Kane was leaving his uncle out of this threw her off balance a little.

"I've already spoken to Uncle Feiren about some of what I want to discuss with you," Kane said. "But this needs to be a private conversation." He hesitated. "My uncle is not privy to everything I do. Whatever we discuss, whatever we decide, he'll know only what we both feel he must know. It's to protect him as well as us."

Brenna nodded. That made sense. She was going to sneak out of Kingsreach. The fewer who knew exactly when and how, the safer she'd be. Maybe that's all Kane wanted to talk about?

"So," Kane leaned towards her. "We need to plan your next steps. You agree that you can't remain here any longer."

"Not and remain sane," she said. "Never in my life have I spent so much time inside. If it wasn't for weapons training and ... well, getting out at night, I would have left long ago."

"One day I hope to know exactly what you've been doing at night."

Brenna looked down at her hands. She hoped that he never learned. It was her business, not his, not the Brotherhood's, hers.

"I've been using your own network to try to find out, you know," Kane said. When she looked up, startled, he laughed. "Don't worry. Even Eryl doesn't suspect it's you he's been asking about. I simply asked him to look out for anything unusual happening around the Collegium, most especially the library. He's had a couple of small incidents to report. One involved the theft of some laundry, but that could be anyone, couldn't it?"

"Anyone who wanted clean clothing," she replied. "We agree I need to move on. Do you have some more ideas?" She was tired of the Brotherhood trying to run her life. Anything they suggested she would reject. She'd go back to the Quarter if she had to. Eryl would help her hide. Kane couldn't have bought Eryl off to the point he'd betray her, could he?

"Actually I was hoping you'd given it some thought," Kane said.

Surprised, she looked at him. He seemed sincere, but could she trust him?

"It's your life," Kane said. "You don't have to tell me what your plans are but it would help with provisioning. If you haven't decided yet I suggest you figure it out very soon. We leave in five days."

"Five days? You can't mean that. I can't be ready to leave in so short a time." There wasn't enough time to properly explore Duke Thorold's estate. She had to retrieve her mother's knife. She would not allow that murderer to keep it. "And what do you mean we? I really don't need you to supervise me. I'm not a child."

"I've told you before," Kane said. "My duty is to ensure your safety. I've spoken to my uncle and I'll be resigning my captaincy in the next few days. Leave the travel preparations to me. I'll have everything ready in five days. I suggest you make some time to practice riding before then. Uncle Feiren will help."

"You expect me to ride a horse?" As a child she'd lived above a stable full of horses, but she'd never been allowed to ride them. "I can't. I won't!" Riding. And traveling with Kane? She did not want this. She wanted to get away from the Brotherhood.

"I can help you leave Kingsreach," Kane said. "I can keep you safe. Spend some time learning to ride. We leave in five days."

Five days. That wasn't enough time. She had to get her mother's knife.

Brenna breathed out in disgust. She'd just entered the secret passage that led to Duke Thorold's estate and despite her need to focus on the task at hand, she couldn't stop thinking about her conversation with Kane. She'd changed her mind about learning to ride. It was a useful skill - one she would need once she was out of Kingsreach. She drew her black breeches from her pack and jammed her feet into the legs. That would show him. She'd learn how to ride and then she'd lose him along the trail. She pulled the black shirt over her head, bunched up the student disguise and shoved it into the pack. With a shake of her head she willed thoughts of Kane away. She could not afford to be distracted, not tonight.

She whispered the spell to hide her pack and slung it onto her back before she set off down the tunnel. A few minutes later she was outside the servants' hallway.

This time when she felt for old steel she was prepared for the wail of her mother's knife. She counted a total of ten pieces in and around the house. Seven of them, including her mother's knife, were bunched together and Brenna didn't think they were being used by anyone. They seemed stationary and lifeless, but the distress of her mother's knife made it hard for her to be sure.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. Yes, the weapons were in a room that was on the plans. The corridor that led to that room was on the other side of the dining room, which should be at the end of this servant's hallway.

She searched for old steel again. The three other pieces felt like they had owners. One piece was in a room above – a bedroom most likely. The other two seemed to be outside the house. She looked at those two more closely. Definitely swords, and they were moving. Guards then. She would keep track of those two.

Her right hand tapped her knife hilt nervously as the sounds of servants finishing their chores drifted to her.

When the house had been quiet for over an hour it was time to go. She pushed the panel door open and stepped into the hallway. She wasn't as prepared as she'd wanted to be - she only had the one exit, and it was a long way from where her mother's knife lay - but she was out of time.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the near dark of the house. She was in luck. The door to the kitchen was closed. She passed it and paused at the entrance of room at the end of the hall. This was the room she had to go through. She settled her back against the wall and searched the shadows for any signs of movement and checked to make sure the old steel hadn't moved before she slid into the room. Carefully she maneuvered around the furniture until she reached the opposite door. It was open and Brenna peered into the hallway. She'd need to turn right, and then left.

She stepped lightly into the hallway. Just along, here, yes this should be it. She ducked into a narrow corridor and headed in the direction of her mother's knife. Here. This was the room. The door was open and Brenna stepped in. Now that she was so close, the knife pulled at her. She moved slowly towards a large desk. That's where the knife was. She knelt down and gently tried the bottom drawer.

To her surprise the drawer opened smoothly. She felt inside but didn't uncover the knife. A false bottom, then. Brenna checked for the usual release mechanisms and finally heard a soft snick. She lifted the drawer bottom up and grabbed the knife. She shoved it over her shoulder and into her pack. Time to get out. She heard a noise and froze.

By the Brothers, in her haste to get her mother's knife she'd forgotten to check for the guards. She ducked under the desk and looked for old steel. Two pieces were still outside on the grounds, but the one that was in the house had moved, was still moving. And it was headed her way. Had she made some noise and given herself away or was he doing his usual rounds?

Brenna kept as still as possible and concentrated on the sounds of the house. Footsteps became louder as they approached the room she was in and her sense of old steel confirmed that they carried a sword. The footsteps stopped outside the room and silently Brenna cursed. Except for the window, her only way out lay past an armed guard. A few minutes passed with no movement from the guard. If she hadn't been able to sense his sword, she would have sworn he'd moved off by now.

Brenna's muscles cramped painfully but she didn't dare move. The guard had been standing outside the door for close to an hour. He didn't know she was in here - he would have caught her by now if he'd known, wouldn't he? It was just bad luck that he had chosen that spot to stand in.

There was only an hour before dawn and certain discovery - she'd have to go out through the window. It would be dangerous and noisy and she'd need the help of the gods to get over the wall, but it was a chance. Unless she could find a secret exit in the wall of the office.

With prayers to Jik for protection and Toru for knowledge, Brenna inched back towards the wall. She felt along the floor where it met the wall. Please be here. Most of the triggers at Feiren's house were higher up but standing would expose her to the silent guard. Brenna's hands feathered over the walls and she reached as high as her crouch allowed. There, that spot. Was that something? There was a soft click and she froze. The wall began to move out towards her. Light spilled out of the passage and she blinked. A cloaked figure held a lantern above her.

"Well, look here," a man's voice said. "I've caught myself a thief."

Rough fingernails bit into the skin of her wrist and Brenna was dragged to her feet. She clamped her lips together and forced her body to relax. She wasn't going to give this guard an excuse to hurt her. A second guard, her unknown watcher, appeared in the doorway to the office, a round 'O' of surprise on his face. He closed his mouth and shuttered his expression so fast Brenna wondered if she'd really seen that surprise.

"Aye, good catch, Barton," the second guard said. "Looks like a thief to me, though you seem to have caught her before she could steal anything. I think the master will want to know about this first thing in the morning. Why don't I lock her up? You can finish up with the scholar."

Barton grunted his agreement and Brenna was handed off to the second guard. Her knife was quickly unbuckled from around her waist but they didn't seem to notice her pack. She was marched through dimly lit rooms to a door that led down to the lower level of the house. She wasn't surprised when she was finally pushed into a cell and the door closed. She heard the sound of a wooden bar being dropped into place on the door.

Her wrist bled where the first guard had grabbed her and she rubbed it. Enough light showed through the cracks around the door for her to see that it was a small room, no more than four feet square. Not enough room for a large man to lie flat, though Brenna would be able to stretch out if she lay corner to corner. Not that she planned on being here long enough to sleep. She needed to get out now.

She ran trembling fingers along the edges of the door, looking for something, anything, that might help. But the hinges were on the outside and they'd barred the door so there was no lock to pick. She pushed at the door fruitlessly before she sank to the cold stone floor. Think, she had to think. She couldn't afford to give in to fear or despair - not even when they brought her before Duke Thorold, as they would, eventually. The thought of Thorold laughing at her helplessness, as he had laughed at her mother so many years ago made her so angry her fear burned away. She would not let him win.

Brenna pulled her pack off and dumped the contents on the floor. There, her lock picking tools. She grabbed a long thin piece of metal and knelt beside the door. She slipped the piece of metal between the door and the frame just below the bar. If she could just get one side of the bar off, she'd have a chance. But the metal tool was too short. She hunched over the pack contents again. Her mother's knife, how could she have forgotten it? She unsheathed it and moved back to the door. As she did, the blade of the knife brushed her bleeding wrist and she felt a shock run up her arm. The knife glowed white hot and the single note that sounded in her head sent her to her knees.

Brenna shoved the blade under her vest and mentally reached for it. But when she touched it, the song had changed to a soft, calming hum. She clamped down and the light went out. Brenna pulled the knife out and studied it.

It was a simple, serviceable knife, smaller than she remembered. The double edged blade was slightly longer than Brenna's hand with a plain straight cross piece and a small knob of a pommel. The handle was wrapped in well-used leather, darkened by all the hands that had gripped it over the years. Brenna remembered the way the knife had flashed in Wynne Trewen's hands as she cut herbs or stripped willow bark from branches. She leaned over and sniffed at the leather somehow hoping to catch the scent of her mother, but she only smelled oiled leather.

Caught in the past, Brenna ran a finger over the blade. And then she had to clamp down on the knife when it flared again. A drop of something dark danced on the blade and then was absorbed into it. Curious, Brenna looked at her finger. There, a small knick from the blade. She touched the cut to the old steel and was surprised at the intensity as the blade once again flared to life. This time when she reached to control it her consciousness spiraled outward in an ever expanding circle, away from the cell in Thorold's estate where her body knelt.

In wonder, Brenna saw pinpricks of light that she knew were old steel. There, a Brother with his family's weapon, and over there, a discordant match between wielder and weapon. As her mind's view expanded Brenna felt the pull of the coronet, and beside it, the mortar and pestle.

There was Kane. She knew that sword, knew its owner. If only she could reach him, tell him where she was. Kane she thought. But he couldn't hear. Why would she think he could?

Subdued, she reeled herself back to the cell. The knife lay dark in her hands and she stared at it. Her mother's knife. Full of magic she didn't know how to use and secrets. Secrets her mother had never known. She tucked the knife back into her pack. Her knife now.

She was still imprisoned by Thorold, but knowing she had the knife brought her comfort. And she knew how to use it as a weapon. Her training might be good enough for her to kill Thorold before he had her killed. Strangely calm, she traced her bleeding thumb on a stone block beside her and watched as the red dried to rusty brown.

Startled, Kane stopped mid stride. "Brenna?" He shook his head and continued down the hall towards his office. For a moment he'd thought he'd heard Brenna calling his name. That's what happens when you get far too little sleep. He and Dasid had much to do before he resigned his captaincy.

Kane dreaded telling King Mattias that he was leaving, that he would not fulfill his oath. When he'd sworn that oath he'd understood the importance of it, had always believed he would live up to the promise. And he'd grown into it until it had wrapped around his soul and become part of his identity. Now he would have to strip that away, just as he was stripping away his rank. For more than ten years, ever since he'd been a fifteen year old recruit, the Kingsguard had been his life. But he'd made another promise, taken another oath, before he'd been welcomed into the Guard. That duty called him now. But he didn't like what he had to do, didn't want to have to choose. Breaking an oath. No man did that lightly, especially not those who lived by them. But he would not be bitter - he would accept his fate even though he felt diminished. And if, his choice made, Brenna never accepted her destiny, he would have failed that oath as well. He had to gain her trust.

Kane turned into his office and found Dasid waiting for him with Ormston. His stomach flipped. Now what? Ormston had been set to watch over Brenna with instructions to let him know the moment she was in danger. He closed the door.

"What's happened to her?" Kane asked. Ormston and Dasid exchange glances. "Come on, you wouldn't be here if something wasn't wrong." And I wouldn't have had that feeling on my way here.

"Well, sir, the lass has been taken by Thorold," Ormston said. "I had word early this morning from our man inside the duke's house."

Kane felt cold at the thought of Brenna in Thorold's hands.

"How did this happen? Does he know who she is?"

"We don't think so, Captain," Dasid said. "It seems our girl was inside the house when she was discovered. From our accounts this morning, the duke doesn't even know she's there."

"In the house." Kane's sat down heavily. "How did she get in? No, don't bother to answer that." She'd found a secret way into the house. She'd been applying herself to the secrets of his uncle's house with such enthusiasm he'd thought she was simply bored. It turned out she'd had a different plan all together. He slumped lower in the chair.

"All right, Ormston. Thank you, you can go. Dasid will let you know if we need anything more from you."

"What do you want to do?" Dasid asked once Ormston was gone

"What do I want to do? I want to stick to our original plan," he said. He rubbed his temple with a shaky hand. "What I have to do is go in there and get her out. They won't treat her as a simple thief for long. Once Duke Thorold sees who she is it will be close to impossible to get her back. We need to get her out right now." Kane ran his hand through his hair in frustration - how could she have put herself at such risk?

The door rattled and woke Brenna. She patted her pack where her knife lay and mumbled the concealing spell. Thanks to the old gods the spell had worked so far. She stood up with her back against the wall. The door opened and the guard from this morning entered, followed by Thorold's pet scholar, the one she'd seen at the library - Fridrick. She kept her head lowered and watched him through downcast eyes.

"Let's see what you've caught here, Tobias," Fridrick said to the guard. "You say she was not caught with anything on her? No stolen valuables or papers?" Tobias nodded. "How odd." Fridrick continued to study her. "Girl, come closer, I want to look at you."

Brenna took a small step forward and briefly raised her head. She had to co-operate at least a little.

"Hmm, brown hair, brown eyes. You have the look of Aruntun about you," Fridrick said. "Could you be the thief who tried to steal the knife from the priest? It would mean that madman killed another girl by mistake."

Brenna kept her eyes fixed on the floor. Fridrick had figured that out much too easily. But he'd called Sabine Werrett's death a mistake. Kane thought the church had been responsible for the death but if Fridrick knew, then Thorold was involved as well.

"There's something familiar about you," Fridrick said. "I can't place it. Not to worry, my dear, I'm sure Duke Thorold will be able to figure it out. I'll leave any questions for him. I wouldn't want to spoil his fun. Tobias." The guard opened the door for Fridrick. The guard glanced her way before he followed the scholar out.

Confused, Brenna took a step back. By the brothers, the guard had looked her straight in the eye and nodded. Just a tiny tilt to his head, but she hadn't imagined it. She slid back down to a sitting position. Could he be part of the Brotherhood? Maybe Kane knew where she was and could get her out some how? She had no desire to end up in Thorold's control again. But if the guard was a Brother ...

Brenna thumped her head against the wall. She was a fool. The Brotherhood had a spy in Duke Thorold's household. If she'd asked Kane, he probably would have told her. No doubt he would have been able to get the information she sought as well; information that tied Duke Thorold to the King of Langemore, proof that he was committing treason against King Mattias. All the times he'd tried to get her to trust him and she never once thought that he might hold the key to her plans. As he'd told her, she tended to forget who and what he was. He was young to have risen to Captain of the Kingsguard, family legacy or no. It stood to reason he'd be smart enough to keep watch on his enemies.

But why had he not told her about his spies? She'd handed her own contacts over to him quickly enough. But she'd never asked. Nor had she asked him how he'd known about the knife she'd tried to steal from the priest. She'd been too busy trying to figure everything out on her own, too caught up in keeping secrets from Kane that she'd never considered that he'd have a few secrets of his own. He would have told her, if she'd asked. He would have told her in order to gain her trust for both him and the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood, with their weapons of old steel. Weapons made of the exact same metal as her mother's knife.

Carefully she reached back and pulled the knife from her pack. How was her mother's knife connected to the Brotherhood? It was - she could feel it. Hand on the knife, she searched for old steel. One piece was just outside her cell. That must be Tobias - he wore a sword that was not from his family. She widened her search. There was more old steel on Thorold's property. This time the mismatch between bearer and weapon was even more jarring. And there, on the road, were half a dozen more pieces. And one was Kane's sword.

Thorold dabbed his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto the table before he fixed Fridrick with a glare. "I assume you're interrupting my breakfast for a reason, scholar." He knew about the thief of course, his personal guard had informed him first thing this morning. He also he knew that Fridrick had been to question the thief.

"Yes, my Lord." Fridrick's voice quavered slightly.

Thorold really wished the man was made of stronger stuff. He might need to find ways to toughen him up a bit. He hated having to coddle anyone.

"As you no doubt are aware the guards captured a thief early this morning," Fridrick said. "A female thief."

Thorold straightened. His guard hadn't mentioned that fact.

"This thief," Fridrick said. "Is a match to the description of the one caught stealing the knife from the church. I have little doubt she is the one."

"Have you questioned her? Did she admit it?" Thorold almost laughed out loud. He'd never believed that the healer who'd been killed had been the thief. He would love to hand this one over to the High Bishop. He would not allow a lowly thief to escape his justice. Even if this girl wasn't the same one she could still help him cement his hold over the High Bishop. People had a habit of dying when questioned by the High Bishop. One more death would be one more lever to keep the man loyal.

"No, my Lord," Fridrick said. "I thought you would prefer to question her yourself."

Thorold nodded. "Very good Fridrick. Have the thief brought to me in the salon."

"My Lord," Fridrick said. "There is one more thing. The girl seems very familiar to me, but I can't place why."

Fridrick left and Thorold puzzled over his last statement. The scholar had a very good memory for people. It was unusual for him to not be able to place the thief.

Duke Thorold's salon resembled an audience chamber more than a sitting room. A single imposing armchair faced the door that led from the main hallway. Small tables sat to either side of the chair with plenty of room beside them for guards. He chose not to be flanked by guards today - he was, after all, dealing with a simple thief. The two guards escorting the thief should be enough to manage her.

He had just settled himself on his own chair when there was a knock at the door. Fridrick entered followed by a slim figure in black and two of his most trusted guards. He watched as the girl, head bent, slowly walked the length of the room. She stopped in front of him, raised her head and met his gaze. What was this? His mouth opened in shock and he saw the small smile of triumph on her face. He scowled. The brat had surprised him, like her mother had, but he'd make this one pay as well.

"Well Fridrick," Thorold said and turned his attention to the scholar. "I believe I know why our young guest looks familiar to you. I always thought my bastard daughter bore some resemblance to me, although her coloring is her mother's." Thorold smiled at the shock on not only Fridrick's face but on the faces of his two guards.

"So daughter," Thorold said. "How proud your mother would be if she were alive." He eyed her dirt-streaked clothing and tangled hair. "A common thief. I always knew you were worthless despite my blood. I suppose it was you who tried to steal the knife from the priest, was it not?"

His bastard daughter simply shrugged. "My mother would be proud," she said. "I'm free. As for the priest's knife. I have nothing to hide on that score. I was caught and my bond was paid. Although I'm sure you've had other items go missing over the years, none would have matched the loss the knife would have been. Oh, forgive me, that knife was for the High Bishop, wasn't it?"

Thorold narrowed his gaze. Had she just admitted that she'd been behind a cluster of small thefts that had plagued him for years? And how did she know that the knife was destined for him?

"That," Thorold said. "Has no bearing on your current circumstance, does it? You, a known thief, found in my house."

"I'm sure the Kingsguard will deal with the charges in the manner they see fit," she said.

"I'm sure they would. If they had the chance." He smiled as her face paled. "Do you think the Kingsguard will care what happens to a thief caught on my property? And there's still the little matter of you being a run away indentured servant. I'm sure that once all the accounts are added up, you'll be quite in my debt for years to come." Thorold laughed when her expression went from fear to anger. Oh, she was much more fun to goad than her mother had been.

"When all accounts are added up you owe me for the death of my mother."

Before he could reply there was a noise from outside in the hallway. The sounds of muffled voices came from beyond the closed double doors, then they were flung open and Kane Rowse strode into the room, four men in the blue uniforms of the Kingsguard at his back.

"Captain Rowse." Thorold could barely contain his rage. How dare the man barge in to his home? "What is the meaning of this?"

Kane Rowse stopped two paces in front of him and bowed slightly.

"My question exactly, Duke Thorold," Rowse said. "What is the meaning of this?" He gestured to the two guards and the prisoner. "As you know, anyone caught breaking the law must immediately be reported to the Kingsguard and prisoners handed over for questioning. I appreciate the efforts you and your men have gone through to apprehend this person, but we'll take custody of the prisoner now. My men will take statements from you and your household."

"Stop!" Thorold shouted. "You will not lay a hand on this woman. She was my indentured servant and she and her mother plotted to kill me before she escaped. She is my property and I demand that you leave her in my custody."

"That's a lie!" the girl shouted. "My mother was a healer - she didn't plot to kill anyone. She couldn't defend herself against you and you killed her."

Thorold stood, how dare she talk to him like that. "You think to accuse me? You are nothing. My bastard daughter by a mother who was both witch and whore."

"If my mother was a whore, it was you who made her one! She was a witch and a healer, with powers you never understood," she said. "Powers enough to make sure she never bore your child, no matter what hold you had over her. My mother loved my father and he loved her until he died in a hunting accident. That's right grandfather, your son fathered me, not you. And in all the years after he died, my mother never once let her secret out - not when you bedded her, not when you hit her, not even when you killed her."

"You lie!" Thorold's rage took hold of him and he stood up. Alastair, his son, his fine firstborn son, would never have done that. He saw Fridrick shrink back in fear but Brenna, that witch, and Rowse, stood together against his fury. He'd teach them to fear him. "Guards, kill her, now!"

The room filled with the hiss of swords clearing scabbards. Thorold looked around in dismay - all but two of the weapons were pointed at Fridrick. Thorold's eyes narrowed. His two guards glared at each other over crossed swords. So, this was how he'd been betrayed.

"I don't think you really mean that, Duke Thorold." Rowse's voice was calm in the quiet room. He stood beside the girl, his ancient sword in his right hand "Even you would find this difficult to explain to the king."

"Well Captain," Thorold said. He sat back down. With a calmness he didn't feel he smoothed a hand down his vest. "It seems you have the advantage for now. And Tobias," he looked at his guard whose sword was pointed at Barton, his one loyal guard, "It was you who betrayed me, was it?" When Tobias bowed in his direction, Thorold suppressed a surge of anger.

"Tobias and I go way back," Rowse said. "It must be what, eight or ten years?"

"Yep. It was our first year in the Guard," Tobias said.

"As you'll find with many guards in Kingsreach, my Lord Duke," Rowse said. "There are ties with the Kingsguard. I think it's time we took our prisoner back to the castle. We wouldn't want anything to happen to her, would we?"

"No we wouldn't," Thorold said. "Because Captain Rowse, as soon as you leave I will be petitioning the King for the return of my property. Don't lose our young friend here."

Once Rowse had left with Brenna, Thorold sat in quiet rage. Fridrick and Barton stood silent in his salon. The girl lied, of course. She couldn't possibly be the daughter of his son. She was a witch, like her mother. But the mother had real power, as she'd shown at the end. He'd often wondered why someone with true power had allowed him to control her so completely. She could have poisoned him or made him trip and fall down stairs – so many ways she could have caused his death. At the time he'd been unaware of the danger he'd been in but it had caused him more than a few sleepless nights since. Until today he'd wondered if she'd been the cause of Alastair's death, but what if she'd used her power to seduce his son? Had the witch managed to turn his own son against him without him knowing?

"Fridrick," Thorold said. "You need to find out how the Brotherhood is tied to Kane Rowse and his uncle. Go, now." Fridrick bowed and scurried from the room. "Barton, I need to know where in the house the thief was. And create a detailed list of items she was attempting to steal. A complete list, you understand."

"Yes my Lord," Barton said. "I believe she was trying to steal your seal. I assume so she could send orders in your name."

"Yes, I believe she was. Good, I think we understand each other perfectly." Thorold watched as the guard saluted and turned to go. "One more thing. Find out who else in my household has close ties to the Kingsguard. If you think they are spies, kill them. I will not have any more betrayals."

"Yes my Lord," Barton replied.

"Send in my steward. I must prepare to see the king."

Kane tried to control his anger but his horse sensed it and danced nervously. His men filed out through Thorold's front gate, Brenna clutching Dasid tightly as she perched on his saddle behind him. Once they were all through the gate, Kane wheeled his horse and caught up to her.

"Brenna," Kane said. "I am furious but right now I need to know if you're all right." He kneed his horse and it sidestepped a wagon.

"I'm fine," Brenna said. "I'm sorry Kane. Thank you for coming for me." She shuddered and gripped Dasid more tightly. "I don't want to think about what he planned to do to me. I shouldn't have provoked him, but I couldn't help it. He killed my mother right in front of me."

Kane met Dasid's glance – neither of them had known this.

"We'll talk," Kane said. "You owe us the truth about that and the fact that Duke Thorold is your grandfather." She nodded and hung her head. He had to be satisfied with that for now.

Kane didn't speak any more than he had to until they were at the castle. The horses were led away to the stable and the rest of the guards headed for the clerk to give their statements. Kane headed for his office, Dasid, Brenna and Tobias in tow. They had to be ready when Thorold petitioned the king.

"Tobias," Kane said. "Do you have somewhere outside of Kingsreach where you can go?" The man would now be in danger from Duke Thorold.

"Yes, I've a plan. It's not like this wasn't expected. In fact," Tobias grinned, "I was getting a little tired of the old duke. He pays well, but he's not pleasant to work for."

"I can imagine," Kane said. "Dasid will get you some crowns. You can buy what you need from the master at arms. Don't tell anyone where you're going. You can send word to Dasid later." Kane sat down behind his desk. "I think your part in this is finished, if you wish it to be."

"Well, Captain," Tobias said. "I'll get myself clear, but I'll be in touch. My family has been part of the Brotherhood for a long time. I doubt those old family ghosts would let me rest if I got out just when it's getting interesting." Tobias winked at Brenna. "Besides, seeing our lass here get the duke so heated up was more fun than I've had in some time. I wouldn't want to miss any of that."

Kane sat silently, arms crossed over his chest as Brenna paced his small office. Tobias had left almost ten minutes ago and he and Dasid had been waiting patiently since then.

"Brenna," Kane said. "We need to know." He'd hoped she'd finally volunteer, but they didn't have any more time to wait. Duke Thorold would petition the king soon.

Brenna sat in a chair before the desk and looked across at him.

"I know," she said. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to put anyone in danger and I certainly didn't plan to cause major problems for you or the Brotherhood."

"Apology accepted," Kane said. "I'm disappointed, though. You can trust me Brenna. I hope now you will because to be honest, this could go badly for you if you don't."

She sighed and nodded. "I know. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"Good," Kane said. "Duke Thorold is probably on his way to see the king. If I thought we had until tomorrow, I'd get our horses ready to leave Kingsreach tonight." Kane stopped talking and stared at her, hard. "You need to start helping us. Dasid will record this so let's start with Thorold – you say he's your grandfather yet he thought he was your father." He looked over at Dasid, who had a blank sheet of paper and a quill set up on a corner of his desk

Brenna leaned back in her chair and bit her lip. Kane sighed again and she sent him a worried look. The she took a deep breath.

"My mother may not have had any power over Thorold," Brenna said. "But she still was able to get the better of him. I told you that she was an indentured servant. She was sent to him when she was young and he took her to his bed almost immediately. She was sixteen."

"And how did his duchess feel about this?" Dasid asked. He smoothed out a parchment and started to write.

"The duchess was very ill," Brenna said. "In fact Duke Thorold bought my mother because he needed a healer for his wife. My mother said she spent a lot of time tending the duchess. That's where she and Alastair met. He was their eldest son and also sixteen." Brenna paused and Kane saw a sad smile flit across her face.

"My mother and Alastair fell in love," Brenna continued. "Even though he knew what kind of attention the duke paid to her. Then my mother decided to have Alastair's child." Brenna twisted her hands together and leaned forward in her chair. "She knew herbs she could use to make sure it was Alastair's child she bore. I have no idea why she wanted a child. Perhaps she had a touch of foresight and knew Alastair would die soon and she wanted to keep part of him, or maybe she simply wanted someone to love. She would never answer when I asked. My favorite reason," Brenna smiled darkly, "is that my mother had me to spite Duke Thorold. We had a secret, one that made us feel powerful when he had absolute power over everything else in our lives."

"And Alastair's mother was the duke's first wife," Dasid stated. "The aunt of Duke Ewart of Fallad."

Startled, Kane looked at Dasid. "Two of the four bloodlines of the heir to the throne of Wolde," he said. Brenna did not look surprised. "How long have you known this?" he asked her.

"Since I found the passage about the Brotherhood in the library," she said. "That was just a few days after I was caught in the priests' room."

"By the old gods," Kane swore. "You've known all this time and never said anything? Do you know anything about your maternal grandmother or grandfather? They must be related to the Duchess of Aruntun and King Mattias,"

"I don't know much about them, truly." Brenna had sunk even lower in her chair and Kane had to sit up straighter to see her face. "Just that my grandmother was a traveling healer. She was from Aruntun, but that doesn't mean she was related to the Duchess."

"Do you know her name?" Kane asked. "We found records for a healer named Madelay."

"Yes, that was her name," Brenna said quietly.

"You said was, past tense," Dasid interrupted. "Do you know for sure is she's dead?"

"My mother didn't live long," Brenna said and Kane heard the bitterness in her voice. "There's no reason to think my grandmother fared any better. She'd be well past fifty, an almost impossible age for an indentured servant in Comack to reach."

Kane nodded. He was dismayed by just how twisted the laws of Soule were in Comack. Thorold's father must have started it and when Thorold's son Beldyn succeeded the king, the whole country could suffer the same fate. Brenna needed to accept her destiny, and soon.

"We know how you came into the world," Kane said. "How did you leave the duke's estate?"

Brenna sat up a bit and took a deep breath. "When I was fifteen," she said. "My mother became obsessive about my studies and made me study poisons. I had to be able to recognize even the most obscure poisons by sight and smell, as well as by the symptoms of those who had ingested them." Brenna splayed a hand on the desk in front of her. "And I had to know the cures and antidotes even more thoroughly. For six months of my life that's all I learned. And she made me recite the Call and the prayer to hide my eyes constantly." Brenna shook her head sadly. "Looking back I wonder if it was because she had resolved something in her own life and was already planning to make sure I would escape."

"So then you are about to turn sixteen," Kane prompted and Brenna's face darkened in anger.

"Yes, then I was about to turn sixteen," she said. "Most children, on the eve of their sixteenth nameday, have a celebration. For me it was a goodbye. Duke Thorold was sending me to one of his minor nobles, no doubt as some payment or other. My mother had known for some time. I think she knew that since I was headstrong and opinionated things would go hard on me." Brenna smiled tightly. "She begged me to run away but I couldn't. I knew Thorold would blame her and probably kill her. And then Duke Thorold came to fetch me. He threatened to hurt me and then he killed my mother. At that point, I ran."

"He killed her himself?" Kane asked.

"Yes," Brenna said. "He'll claim it was self defense but I was there, I saw. He slit her throat with her own knife." Brenna leaned forward and tugged at something on her back. Suddenly, on the desk in front of him was a worn leather pack.

"Where did that come from?" Kane asked. He hadn't noticed it before she pulled it out.

"Sorry," Brenna said "I got so used to the feel of it that I forgot it was there."

"You were wearing that the whole time?" She hadn't been searched thoroughly enough to catch this?

"Yep. I should have thanked Tobias for that." She looked up and grinned. "And magic – I think the prayer my mother taught is actually a spell." She reached into the pack. "Ah, here it is."

The knife she pulled out was one of the simplest old steel knives Kane had seen. It had a short blade with straight steel guards and a black leather-wrapped handle. The sheath itself was old and worn but the plain black leather, though cracked, was newer than the knife itself. Kane reached a hand out and Brenna placed the knife into it. He gripped it, but his fingers overlapped the pommel. This was a knife for someone with smaller hands than him. When he passed it back to her their hands touched and he felt a shock run up his arm.

"That knife seems to have quite a bit of power," Kane said.

"It's old steel." Brenna looked uneasy. "It was my mother's knife."

"Your mother owned an old steel knife?" Dasid asked. He stared at Brenna and then jotted something down on the parchment. "Another link to the prophecy."

"It was her mother's before her, that's what she told me," Brenna said. "I remember it from growing up." She turned the knife in her hand and caressed the leather grip. "She used to oil the leather to keep it soft."

"And?" Kane prompted.

"And when I felt this knife, my mother's knife, I knew old steel was tied to the blood of the family it belonged to," Brenna said. "Thorold had it hidden. I sensed it one night while I was exploring."

Kane raised his eyebrows. "You could sense it from a great distance?" he asked and when she refused to meet his gaze he felt his anger mount. "You sensed it while inside Duke Thorold's estate." He ran a hand through his hair. "So you only knew it was there after you were on Thorold's property. How many times had you put yourself in such danger?"

Brenna lifted her eyes and they glared at each other. "That's none of your concern," she said.

"By the gods it is," he said. He was angry, really angry now. "Dasid and I are trying to figure out how to keep the king from locking you up or handing you over to Thorold." Brenna's eyes dropped away and Kane settled in his chair. "Tell me, why did you go to Thorold's estate in the first place?"

"Ever since I ran away from him," Brenna said. "I've been trying to make Thorold pay for what he did to my mother. That's the reason I developed my network – to collect information on him. And anything that was headed his way, I would steal. My own small attempts to wound him," she said bitterly. "Not that it could hurt as much as losing my mother, but in a small way it made her death have a little more meaning. I had some power over Duke Thorold by stealing things he wanted. Then I tried to steal the knife from the priest. You know what happened then."

"The prophesy," Dasid said.

"No," Brenna said. "I got caught. Then the prophesy. Don't you see? I finally had a good chance to really hurt Thorold. With Feiren feeding and housing me and the both of you teaching me how to use weapons I was better prepared than ever before. So I tried to take advantage of it."

"So you used us," Kane said softly. He was only a little disappointed, and not at all surprised. Besides, she'd been spending her time searching for ways to harm Duke Thorold, the Brotherhood's enemy.

"Yes, I used you. And I'm not sorry." Her head came up and she met his eyes. "I only wish I'd been smarter."

"In what way?"

"I spent days, weeks, pouring over the plans to Thorold's estate trying to figure a way in, trying to figure out what to look for that I could use to hurt him. And then there were the hours roaming around in disguise in order to get his guards used to seeing a young student. All this time you had a spy on the inside. I could have asked you for help and you would have given it to me." She laughed bitterly. "I can't believe how hopeless it was for me to try to do this by myself."

So that was what all the midnight wanderings were about. "And that's how you sensed the knife?" he prodded.

"A few nights ago I went into Thorold's house for the first time." She glanced at him. "Once inside I checked for old steel." The smile slid from her face. "That's when I felt the knife. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before. Kane, it was a tortured scream. It took me some time to get control of it but I knew immediately it was my mother's knife. I don't know how else to explain it, but the knife knew what it had done. And it recognized my mother's blood in me. After that I had to go and retrieve it. The knife is mine."

She looked at him almost defiantly. Kane simply nodded.

"Will that be helpful?" he asked Dasid.

"Aye," Dasid said. "I see no reason to mention anything about how you got into the duke's estate, Brenna. Ideally we won't need to mention that at all, if we stick to the history."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean?"

"We'll soon be called before King Mattias to answer to the duke's charges," Kane said. "If he's foolish enough to claim you as a run away, we should be able to counter his argument effectively enough. As to the charges of trespassing, that's a matter for the Kingsguard. But if he's discovered the knife is gone, it may be a problem. For now, you'll need to be our guest in jail. Dasid will take you." Brenna stood and followed Dasid to the door.

"And Brenna," Kane said. She paused and looked at him from the doorway. "what Duke Thorold wants is power. We can stop him from getting it. That is the prophecy. But you need to trust me. You need to trust the Brotherhood."

fifteen

Brenna slumped down on the straw with her back to the wall of the cell. She pulled her knees up under her chin and sighed. Yes, Thorold wanted power. She'd known that all her life, had lived it as a child, Thorold's need to control everyone in his household - his wife, his children, his servants, everyone. Now he was positioned to extend that power over every single person in Soule. His son would hold the title of king but Thorold would wield the power. She'd been so focused on her own plans for revenge that she'd barely given a thought to what the prophecy meant to Soule.

What would it mean to have someone other than Thorold in power? She thought back to her childhood. She'd watched him manipulate people simply because he could - the torment he'd visited on an elderly groom when his horse wasn't ready - the scalded serving girl who had set the too-hot soup before him. And now the entire kingdom of Soule would be vulnerable. A Soule under Thorold would become a very hard place for the poor, the weak, the ones without money and power and connections.

Like the people she knew in Thieves Quarter. What would happen to Pater and his nephew Martyn? Would they be in a position to give those with even harder lives a fresh piece of fruit every now and then? And what about Mistress Dudding, with her tidy seamstress shop, and Eryl and his gang? Life was already hard. With Thorold in power many of them wouldn't survive.

Brenna saw a flash of Thieves Quarter, buildings ablaze and the night sky lit with by fires. She watched from afar as a roof collapsed and flames shot high into the air. Then it was gone. She shuddered and clutched her arms tighter around her knees. Was this a vision? Is this what will happen under Thorold's rule? She prayed to the old gods that this wouldn't come true.

She'd thought to discredit Duke Thorold and prove that he was a traitor. Now she realized that wouldn't be enough. Thorold's power was too entrenched. Even if he was condemned, Beldyn would pardon his father once he was king.

Only the Brotherhood was willing to oppose Thorold – and then only if she led them.

She didn't want this. She didn't believe she was the one foretold by the prophecy. But did it matter? The Brotherhood believed she was the one. Kane believed she was the one. It seemed that the choice was either her or Thorold. Could she walk away from Kingsreach, from Soule, knowing that she alone had a chance to change things, that she alone had the chance, just a chance, to try to make things better?

No. Thorold could not be allowed to rule Soule. He could not be allowed to twist the laws and mistreat the people for his own gain. Brenna would and could use the Brotherhood and the prophesy to make sure he didn't succeed. She wasn't the heir but she would be the figurehead for the Brotherhood so that Thorold could be defeated. Time enough later to decide who would rule, as long as it wasn't Duke Thorold.

With the decision to work with the Brotherhood made, a sense of peace, a sense of rightness seeped into her. More relaxed than she'd been in weeks, Brenna closed her eyes to wait.

Early in the afternoon the door to the cell room opened and Dasid entered.

"It's time," he said. "The king has asked Duke Thorold and Kane to convene in his audience chamber. As we'd hoped, Thorold has not charged you with trespassing or theft. He's claimed that you are a runaway indentured servant with an outstanding debt owed to him." He passed a clean white shirt through the iron bars to her. "Put this on. Kane asked that you be present and the king has agreed. You can leave your pack here."

Brenna turned her back, pulled her black shirt off and donned the white one. It was a little big, but at least she was no longer dressed as a thief. She shoved her pack under the straw, turned and stepped through the open cell door.

"I'm ready," she said. She tried to smile, but her stomach was in knots. What if Thorold's claim on her was granted? What if he convinced the king to hand her over to him? Kane said she should trust him and right now that was the only thing she could do.

"It shouldn't be too bad," Dasid said. "We have a defense for this charge. But don't show any anger towards Duke Thorold. He'll be calm and reasonable when stating his case and we'll be the same. Above all, try to look like you're not a threat."

Brenna nodded and followed Dasid through corridors and past the curious stares of Kingsguardsmen. Dasid stopped in front of two guards who stood beside a small wooden door.

"Here we are," he said and pushed it open.

The room they entered was large, its arrangement vaguely familiar. Then she placed it. Duke Thorold's salon was set up the same, although his room hadn't been this grand.

King Mattias sat on the throne opposite the door. He wore a fine black leather vest over a shimmering white silk shirt. Black brocade breeches were tucked into black leather boots so supple Brenna knew they would make no sound on the marble floor. His thinning grayish hair was held back with a simple black ribbon.

The stark black and white clothing emphasized the yellow tinge under the pallor of the king's skin. He was very ill. How long would he live? A year? Two? The prospect of Thorold reigning over Soule became real to Brenna. Her steps faltered when she remembered her vision of Thieves Quarter in flames. Then Dasid took her elbow and pulled her towards the king.

Two tables in front of the throne were piled with various scrolls and books. Kane stood behind one table, serious and commanding in his formal dress uniform.

At the other table sat Duke Thorold and his scholar, Fridrick. Brenna concentrated on remaining calm as she walked past Thorold and stopped in between the two tables. Dasid backed away until he stood at Kane's side.

"So this is the woman all the fuss is about." King Mattias' voice was still strong, despite the obvious signs of illness. "She hardly looks worth it to me."

At the humor in his voice, Brenna looked up. Shocked, she quickly lowered her gaze. Up close, the king appeared even more ill. With effort, Brenna brought her attention back to the proceedings. She had to know her own fate before she could spend energy on what ailed the king.

"Your Majesty, she does indeed seem worth little," Thorold said calmly. "But it is the principle of the matter. Indentured servants simply cannot be allowed to run away without paying their debts. I'm sure that Captain Rowse will agree with me on that."

"I certainly agree with Duke Thorold on that point, your Majesty," Kane said. "However I am currently not able to verify that this woman did run away from the duke's household."

"You dare to challenge my word?" Thorold's voice was low and dangerous.

"Unfortunately it's not your word I'm questioning, my Lord Duke, but your record keeping." Kane gestured to the books on the table in front of him. "After our discussion with Duke Thorold this morning and after interviewing the woman in question, Kingsguard Addems and I checked all the Comackian records surrounding the year in question. We've found no reports indicating that one of the Duke's servants ran away. There is no record of any outstanding debt owed by her. There isn't even a record of her being indentured in the first place. In the absence of these proofs I simply cannot hand this woman over to the Duke. I would be failing my oath to uphold the laws of Soule."

"This is most unusual, Captain," King Mattias said. "We certainly must hold to the law. Duke Thorold, what think you of this?"

"Your Majesty," Thorold said. "I feel I am in the unfortunate position of having my word brought into question because of a clerical error."

Brenna heard the edge of anger underneath the conciliatory tone in Duke Thorold's voice. Someone would pay for this later, she knew.

"This woman," Thorold continued. "Was certainly part of my household, as was her mother before her. I insist she be given back into my custody at once."

"Your Majesty," Kane said. "Once again we seem to have run into some, um, clerical errors. We've not been able to find any reference to this woman's mother. I'm at a loss to explain this since the accounts from the two time frames in question are clearly written by two different hands. Frankly, I'm concerned about the validity of any of Duke Thorold's accounts. Duke Thorold, do these same clerks record your tax accounts?"

King Mattias glared at the duke. Thorold didn't squirm but Brenna did see a bead of sweat roll down his neck. Had Thorold been cheating the king out of taxes? As a thief she knew how much people hated being stolen from. The king would be no different.

"Your Majesty," Kane continued. "As I said we did question the young woman. She admits to growing up in Duke Thorold's household, the daughter of an indentured servant. We might simply be dealing with a clerical error. However, according to the young woman she left on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, as is her right under the laws of Soule. And there is nothing in this record to show she had any outstanding debts."

Kane had turned the tables on the duke. Thorold would be forced to defend all of his accounts, including the ones that proved she was not indentured to him, just to keep his tax records from coming under more scrutiny.

As the discussion flowed around her, Brenna turned her attention to King Mattias. His sallow, yellow-toned skin, his thinning hair and the sweetish scent of his illness reminded her of Mistress Dudding's brother before his liver failed him completely. But some of the other symptoms - the glassy eyes and the sweat that slicked down his hair, did not fit that disease.

Kane seemed comfortable and almost amused by the current discussion, so Brenna relaxed a little and concentrated on the king. She compared what she knew about diseases with his symptoms, starting with the most common and moving towards the most obscure. When she had run through all the diseases she could think of, she started over. She must have missed one. Unless ...

"Your Majesty," Kane said. "I suggest that if we are finished with the initial charges it would be appropriate to remove the young lady at this point."

"Yes, of course," Mattias said. "By all means, let her go, let her go. Duke Thorold, I suggest you send to Comack for your own personal records. I'll have my clerks go through them."

King Mattias rose slowly. Brenna followed Kane's lead and bowed low as the King left the room, followed by his guards. Dasid edged over to her and led her back into the corridors of the castle. After a quick stop to retrieve her pack they made their way to Kane's office.

"That went well," Dasid said as soon as he closed the door. He motioned to a chair and Brenna sat down while he sat behind the desk. "We looked through the records a few days ago and found no mention of either you or your mother. We didn't want to mention it to you in case the argument didn't succeed or Thorold laid the trespassing charge."

"Thank you," Brenna said. "Trespassing would have been the most obvious charge. I was caught inside his estate."

"You were caught in his private office," Dasid amended. "We're lucky he over-reached himself and tried to get total control of you. Having you jailed and released again was not what he wanted."

"No. And I am lucky," Brenna agreed. She grinned in relief and was rewarded with one of Dasid's rare smiles. The door opened and they both turned as Kane strode in.

"Well, that's it then." Kane sat in the chair beside her.

"That's it," Brenna echoed. "Thank you. Now what do we do?"

"We leave Kingsreach," Kane said. "This will only make Thorold more furious. I've just resigned my commission as Captain of the Kingsguard."

"Can you do that?" Brenna asked. "Simply resign?" She was a little surprised, but she understood the truth of it. Thorold would not stop. He would try to kill her - and Kane too, despite his rank. His former rank.

"The king didn't like it," Kane said. "But I told him that the continuous disagreements between Duke Thorold and myself were causing him undue stress. He cannot afford that in his condition. In the end he agreed." Kane shook his had sadly. "In part because he was simply too tired to argue. Uncle Feiren will be asked to take over until a new captain can be named." He looked at Dasid. "Unfortunately I don't think it will be you, although I've already advised the king you're my choice."

"Which is what we expected," Dasid said. "If Thorold spends his energy making sure his own man is chosen for the captaincy he won't pay attention to other things."

"What other things?" Brenna asked.

"The former captain leaving town with a known thief," Kane said.

"When do we leave?" Brenna asked.

"Tomorrow," Kane said. "Thorold won't do anything today, not so soon after the matter being decided by King Mattias. He'll put a plan into action soon, though. He isn't the type of man to let something like this slide."

"Tomorrow," Brenna repeated. "That doesn't give me much time. I need to get to the Collegium library right away."

"No," Kane said. "Absolutely out of the question. I'm taking you back to my uncle's house and you won't be leaving it even if I have to tie you down and stand guard all night."

"You could try," Brenna said. "But you'll take me to the library first. The king is being poisoned and I need to confirm what I think is being used on him."

Thorold sat in quiet fury. Absently he picked up the glass of wine on the desk in front of him. It was his favorite vintage, shipped from the Talis Islands in the Southern Sea. Usually he savored the rich fruity taste, but today he barely tasted it at all. By the One-God, how could Kane Rowse have gotten the best of him? And he'd risked his position to save a thief. Why? It didn't make sense. The man had barged into his home and then used his access to the records all to keep that brat free.

It was that witch's fault. Ever since she'd told him she was his son's daughter and not his he'd had a sick feeling. If he'd missed something that significant he might have missed something else as well, something more important to his plans. He had to get Beldyn to Kingsreach as soon as possible. His second born son had always been a biddable child, but he'd thought that of his eldest son too. The king had accepted Beldyn as his royal heir but it was Thorold who would hold the power. There was no way he would let anyone, even his own son, especially his own son, forget that. It was humiliating to think that all those years ago Alastair had deceived him, but knowing that the witch and her mother had fooled him for so long was intolerable.

Thorold reached down and opened the bottom desk drawer. He had the mother's knife, the one he'd killed her with. He'd use it to kill the daughter as well. He activated the switch that opened the false bottom. Empty. His body shook with rage. She'd stolen something after all. His rage subsided and an uneasy feeling settled over him. How had she known where to find the knife? Curse that disloyal guard and Kane Rowse for allowing this to happen. It was too late for him to report the loss of the knife - the king had already freed the witch. But there were other ways to take care of problems. He rang for a servant.

"Bring me the captain of my guard," he said. The man bowed and hurried out of the room. It was time he sent a strong message to the witch and Rowse.

Kane sat across from his uncle. He and Brenna had just returned from the library. It was time to tell Uncle Feiren the news.

"From what I saw today," Brenna said. "The King is very ill. I doubt he'll live more than two years."

"As bad as that?" Feiren asked.

"Yes," Brenna replied. "He might not even have that long. I don't know how fast his illness has been progressing. Kane tells me his health has deteriorated significantly in the past five or six years. He has yellow skin, thin hair and he smells very sweet, which are the symptoms of a liver wasting disease. But he also has glassy eyes and excessive sweating. Those are specific signs of long term trefell poisoning. Trefell is a rare plant that grows in very high altitudes."

"Like they have in Comack," Kane interjected. He didn't need to say it. Who else but Thorold would be doing this? And doing it during his term as captain of the Kingsguard. He had failed to protect the king.

"Yes," Brenna agreed. "Trefell is extremely toxic, but in low doses it doesn't kill. At least not right away. According to the book I found in the library it was originally used in small doses to keep those who have lost their wits docile. However, long-term use is deadly - the patient's organs became unable to clear the body of natural toxins - their skin takes on a yellowish cast and their hair thins. When enough toxins build up in the body, the eyes seem almost coated and the body tries to eliminate the toxins through sweat."

"Can we reverse it?" asked Feiren.

"No," Brenna said. "The damage to the body is done. But we might be able to counter the poison so that the symptoms get no worse. Perhaps the king's health could improve a little over time with proper care, but it's hard to predict."

"What do we need to do?" Feiren asked.

"I can create an antidote," Brenna said. "But finding the correct dose will be difficult and could take some time."

"There's no proof," Kane said. "But Thorold must be behind this. His son is the king's heir. He has the most to gain."

"I think it was my mother who gave Thorold the information about Trefell," Brenna stated. "Remember I told you that when I was fifteen my mother made me learn all about poisons? Well, the timing fits. That was seven years ago, just about the time I believe the king was first started on the poison."

"So it's fitting that her daughter's knowledge will be used to help the King," Kane said and was rewarded with Brenna's grateful smile. "Uncle Feiren it will be up to you to make sure the king gets the right dose for the antidote. Brenna and I will be gone by dawn and you're the only one close enough to Mattias to administer it."

"I'll make up some different doses of the antidote," Brenna said. "You'll need to watch King Mattias carefully to see which one is correct," Brenna said. "The effects should be apparent within a day or two of administering it. He'll have more energy and his eyes should get clearer."

"Why don't I simply tell King Mattias he's being poisoned and ask him to take the antidote?" Feiren asked.

"You could. It might work in the short term." Brenna leaned across the desk. "But if you do that Thorold could simply use a different poison on him." Brenna looked over at him before turning back to his uncle. "There's one more thing. The cure, zarid, is an equally dangerous poison. If you get caught you'll be rightly accused of poisoning the king."

Kane's heart jumped at her words. He hadn't known that! Uncle Feiren nodded slowly, deliberately, his face grim.

"Hand me the poison then, lass," Feiren said. "I'll make sure my king gets any help I can give him."

sixteen

Brenna placed two zarid leaves in the old steel mortar and carefully crushed them with the smooth ball of the pestle. As she worked, she muttered under her breath. She didn't know any real healing spells, so she simply repeated over and over health to King Mattias, while picturing him getting better.

She carefully emptied the contents of the mortar into a small jar. She had dozens of doses of the poison to make and only a few hours until she and Kane left the city.

They hadn't yet decided where they would go. At least Kane hadn't. She knew exactly where she was headed. Kane could get them out of the city and then she was going to Aruntun. Brenna was going to let healer Sabine's family know what had happened to their daughter, whether Kane agreed or not.

By early morning, when she showed them to Feiren and Kane, the small apothecary jars almost covered the dining table.

"I know it seems like a lot," Brenna said. "But I made at least three different strengths. See, I've identified the three doses by colour. Red is the weakest, yellow is of middle strength and blue is the strongest. You need to try them in that order. Now," she picked up two jars with red string attached, "since none of us is sure how you'll get these into the king, there's both a powder and liquid in each strength. Once you know which one works, simply take a jar to the apothecary and he'll duplicate it." The Brotherhood's membership included an apothecary, of course. Kane had taken her to visit the man last evening and she'd taken all of the zarid he had on hand as well as most of his small jars.

"Good work, Brenna." Kane squeezed her shoulder. "Now get some rest. We'll be leaving in a few hours."

"All right," Brenna said. She ran a hand through her hair. She was exhausted. "Good bye Feiren." She hugged him and brushed her lips across the stubble of his check. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome, lass," Feiren said. "I'm proud to have met you."

Brenna grabbed her pack and headed for the stairs. One foot on the bottom stair, she turned back to Feiren, and almost stumbled.

His eyes were lifeless and his face slack and pale, as if he was dead. This was what she'd seen in Sabine Werrett's face before she'd died. Please, not Feiren. And then the shadow fell from his face and Feiren, tired but alive, sent her a puzzled look.

"Look after yourself, Feiren," Brenna said solemnly. "You're in very great danger."

"I know that, lass," Feiren said. "Don't you worry about me, you just keep yourself safe. Now go on, get some sleep."

Brenna headed up the stairs to her room. She hoped that what she'd Seen wasn't the truth. Seer's made mistakes too, didn't they? Please, Ush, she pleaded, keep Feiren safe.

More than anywhere else she'd lived, Feiren Rowse's house had felt like a home. Her home. Growing up, Duke Thorold's estate hadn't been a home, nor had any of the places she'd lived in since, not even her room over the seamstress shop. Mistress Dudding, kind soul that she was, would not have allowed Brenna to live there if she'd known about her witch eyes. But here, with Feiren, she'd felt accepted for who she is. To the Brotherhood, her eyes were simply more proof that she was the one prophesied.

In her room, Brenna changed out of her clothes, blew out the lamp and slipped into what she'd come to think of as her bed one last time.

She woke all at once. What was that? There, a soft tread on the floorboards outside her door.

"Brenna," Kane whispered. "We need to get moving."

"Right," she said. The door to her room opened and she could just make out Kane's face in the gloom. "Be right down."

The door closed and she slid out of bed. She was going to miss this bed. She was also going to miss sleeping alone. It was likely to be bedrolls and a hard patch of ground, but Brenna would be sharing her nights with Kane. And that made her a little nervous. She hadn't spent all that much time alone with him and now they would be together day and night.

Brenna dropped her pack in the courtyard by Feiren's stable. The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east, and the dew was damp on the grass. She and Kane had rushed through a cold breakfast then she'd followed him outside to the stables. Kane had disappeared into the still dark structure to fetch the horses, so Brenna took a few moments to stretch the kinks out of her neck and shoulders. Her muscles were tight from the long hours she'd spent crushing the zarid to make the antidote last night.

Kane led two horses out of the stable and over to the rail and tied them up. "I know you don't have a lot of experience with horses," he said.

"I have lots of experience with horses," Brenna said. "I lived over a stable for sixteen years. What I don't have is experience riding horses. The first time I was on one was when I rode with Dasid from Thorold's estate to the castle." And she hadn't made time to learn to ride, like Kane had suggested.

"He said you had such a tight grip on him that he ended up with bruises," Kane said. "I'm hoping to escape the same fate."

"Did he?" Brenna asked. Poor Dasid. All he'd done was help rescue her from Duke Thorold.

"No," Kane said and grinned. "But it was close. You do need to be able to ride on your own, though. And take care of your horse." He patted the nose of one of the horses. "Now this lovely girl is your mount. Come say hello to Blaze."

Brenna took a step forward. Blaze was big, but she seemed tame enough. Kane rubbed the horse's chin and her large brown eyes closed in response. She was a rich, mahogany brown with a jagged white patch running the length of her nose. Brenna put her hand on the horse's neck and stroked it gently. Blaze's skin twitched under her hand and Brenna smiled. Despite their large size, horses had been some of her gentlest patients when she was a girl. Her mother had resented living above the stables, so she'd sent Brenna whenever the stable master had asked for a poultice or a wound cleaning. Neither Brenna nor the stable master had minded.

"I think you two will get along fine," Kane said. "She's very dependable and has an easy gait. Which you'll soon appreciate. You'll be spending long hours on her. She's fast, too, but we'll worry about that later. First I want to show you how to get on and stay on."

Kane quickly put one foot into a stirrup and swung himself up onto the horse's back. Just as quickly, he dismounted.

"You try." He steered her over to stand beside the horse. "You're smaller than I am, so it might be harder. We can find a mounting block to give you a boost if you want."

Brenna glared at him. There was no way she was going to use a block, as though she was a child. Besides, if she could climb onto the roof of a house, she should be able to climb onto a horse.

Brenna lifted her left foot and slid it into the stirrup. She bounced slightly on her right foot and grabbed the saddle with both hands. With a grunt, she pushed off with her foot and pulled herself up, hard. She landed on her stomach and the rigid leather of the saddle dug into her ribcage.

"Swing your right leg over her back," Kane said. "Here, let me help."

"No, don't!" Brenna said. "I can do this." Bad enough that she was draped over the horse like a sack of flour \- she didn't need him hauling her around like one too. "And you better not be laughing."

She dropped her arms to the other side of the horse and grabbed at the leather cinch. She tried to swing her leg over the horses back, but her knee got caught against the saddle. Her left foot came out of the stirrup and she started to slide across the saddle towards the ground on the other side. Brenna scrabbled at the saddle but she couldn't get a good grip. In defeat, she tucked her head under as she slid towards the ground. Her shoulder hit first and she somersaulted into the dirt of the stable yard. She looked up and into the placid gaze of Blaze.

"Are you all right?" Kane asked. He leaned over her and gently grasped her shoulders.

Brenna winced. "Hey."

"Sorry," he said. His hold softened but he didn't let go.

"I'm fine." Brenna sat up straight and moved her shoulders one at a time. There didn't seem to be anything really wrong. Except now Kane was massaging her shoulders. Abruptly, Brenna shrugged off his hands and got to her feet. She didn't need his help. Nor did she want to think about how her skin warmed where he'd touched her.

"I'm fine, really." She dusted off her clothes. "Just feeling foolish." He made a noise and she looked over at him. "Don't you dare," she said as he turned his head away. "It's not funny."

"It is," he said. He walked around to the other side of the horse.

Brenna glared at him and followed. "Anyway, it's not my fault it's yours," she accused. "You are a terrible riding instructor."

"You're right," Kane lowered his head, "it's my fault. I didn't realize I had such a poor student."

She lightly punched his shoulder.

"Hey," he said and he caught both her arms in his. Brenna tried to wriggle free, but he held her tight against him. Eventually, he released her arms and she looked up into warm blue eyes.

Kane looked away abruptly and took one step back. "Try it again," he said. "And this time you will accept my help." He took hold of Blaze's bridle.

Half an hour later, Brenna swayed atop Blaze as they headed out of town. They were riding north and west, towards the Upper Silverdale River. Kane promised they'd stop and determine their actual course once they got to the river. For now, they were leaving by the most common route out of Kingsreach. It would be impossible for anyone watching to figure out their destination.

"You know Kane, this isn't too bad," Brenna said. She patted her horse's neck. "Riding is easy, once you learn how to get on. Blaze and I are getting along nicely, and we have a lovely day ahead of us." The sunrise was directly behind them and she felt the gentle warmth on her back.

Kane shook his head.

"Am I wrong?" she asked.

"I warned you that it would take some time to get used to riding."

"Yes," Brenna said. "But I've been active all my life. Besides, I've just been through all that weapons training with Feiren. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"We'll see," Kane said. "Talk to me at the end of the day. Or better yet, tomorrow morning."

They reached the river crossing a short time later. Brenna reined in her horse and let Kane bring his up beside her. He dismounted and handed her his horse's reins.

"Stay here until I find out when we can cross," he said. He headed towards a small house that sat on the bank of the river. A woman came outside and she and Kane spoke. Brenna couldn't hear what they said over the rushing of the river, but the woman nodded and pointed across the river. She then went over to the dock and sent a bright red flag up a short pole.

Still seated on Blaze, Brenna looked around. The gray and purple Godswall mountain range was off in the distance. The mountains were completely in Comack - the mines in them provided much of Duke Thorold's wealth. Sweeping foothills gave way to plains dotted with farms. At this time of year the wheat and corn were almost over Brenna's head. The road cut a narrow swathe through the crops and an occasional branching laneway showed the way to a small group of farm buildings.

The Upper Silverdale was swift and narrow here. It carried the cold runoff from the Godswall mountains down to the plains. There it met up with a similar torrent from the Seven Sisters. Even the gray color of the water looked cold.

Once across the river, they'd be in Comack, a duchy that Brenna had no wish to spend time in. Dryannon, the capital, was miles away on the other side of the Godswall. It was Duke Thorold who was the more immediate threat from Comack. And he was likely still abed in Kingsreach.

Kane came back and grabbed both horses by their halters and led them to the left of the dock.

"Here, let me help you down," Kane said.

"I think I can manage," Brenna said and she slid from her horse. But when her feet touched the ground her knees buckled and gave out. She would have fallen if Kane hadn't caught her. His breath ruffled her hair as he set her on her feet.

"Sorry about that," Brenna said as she grabbed onto Kane's arm. "You could have warned me."

"I did offer to help."

"Yes, you did." Brenna took one tentative step, then another, before she finally let go of his arm. Her legs felt weak and unsteady, and this after only two hours riding!

"Don't worry, you get used to it."

"When?" Brenna asked. She gingerly sat on a nearby boulder.

Kane looped the reins around a small tree. Both horses bent their heads to worry at the few blades of grass they could reach.

"We have some time until we need to load the horses onto the ferry," Kane said. He placed one boot beside her on the rock and leaned toward her. "It's time to decide where we're heading."

"I've already decided." Brenna said. "It's something I have to do." She pulled a small piece of paper from her vest pocket. Carefully, she unfolded it and smoothed it out across her lap. "Here, just west of the Seven Sisters," she pointed to a small spot on the map. "There should be a town named Cottle."

"Is that from the library?" he asked, gesturing to her map.

She looked up at his bemused expression and shrugged. "I am a thief," she said. "No arguments? You're not going to try to talk me into going somewhere else? There's no Brotherhood plan I'm supposed to follow?" She'd been expecting Kane to fight her on this, so his silence unnerved her.

"No," Kane said. "The Brotherhood plan is to support you - the heir to the prophecy. Besides, Cottle, in Aruntun, is as unlikely a destination as any. Which is very good in case anyone is looking for us. If we take this route," he leaned over and traced a path on the map, "and go north to Silverdale City, then due west, we'll be able to by pass the Seven Sisters. The foothills should be fairly easy traveling this time of year. If this map is accurate, we'll be in Cottle no later than a week after we cross into Aruntun."

Brenna nodded. They would also spend very little time in Comack, which made her happy. "Do you know anyone in Silverdale?" she asked.

"The Brotherhood has a very strong presence there - the strongest outside of Kingsreach," Kane said. "And though I haven't seen him in a few years, Duke Ewart and I are the same age. His estate is not far from the city. Years ago we spent rather large amounts of time in the practice ring trying to beat each other senseless.

"That was before I joined the Kingsguard," Kane continued. "Uncle Feiren and the previous Duke of Fallad were both on the king's council. I think they were grateful to find a way to let us burn off the extra energy boys that age have." He rolled up his jacket sleeve, exposing his forearm. "This scar right here is courtesy of Duke Ewart of Fallad."

"And I suppose he has none from you?" Brenna said.

"He lived," Kane said, and laughed. "It looks like the ferry is almost ready to leave." He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Let's get the horses loaded."

Kane tightened his hold on the bridles and walked the horses off the ferry and back onto solid ground. Brenna shuffled off the ferry and he frowned. She'd spent the entire crossing hunched down in the boat trying to massage some feeling back into her legs. He hoped it had helped. It was still early, well before mid day, and they needed to get some distance behind them as soon as possible. He helped Brenna mount up and then they headed north along the road.

Kane looked back over his shoulder. So far they had passed only a few merchants and there had been no sign of Duke Thorold's troops. The road ahead was clear so he urged his horse up beside Brenna's.

"How are you holding up?"

"Fine," she said. "As long as I stay in the saddle." She shook her head. "It wasn't much fun getting back on after our mid day stop."

"It will get better," Kane said. "We'll find an inn tonight and you can have a hot bath. That should help." He would have preferred to find a place to camp, but he doubted she'd be able to walk, let alone ride after a night sleeping on the cold ground. And they were still in Comack, in Duke Thorold's territory \- she had to be able to run.

"Thank you. That's sounds blissful," Brenna said. She moved one leg and grimaced.

"Don't thank me yet," Kane said. "After a bath tonight you should be ready to try a canter or a gallop tomorrow." She glared at him and he chuckled. "There'll be a hot meal for supper as well."

"Humph. Add in a hot breakfast and I'll consider it."

Kane nodded. It was his responsibility to make sure she could manage her horse and get herself out of danger. And buy her enough time to do it, if it came to that.

The rest of the day was spent riding through well-tended farmlands. This close to Kingsreach, the farms were close together, with only an occasional rocky plot left barren. As they moved further away from the foothills, the woodlots of evergreens were dotted with maple and ash.

The inn they stopped at looked prosperous and safe. It was nestled amongst a copse of trees at a crossroad. Kane made arrangements for their horses and secured a room - paying an extra two coppers to have the owner's daughter haul a basin and hot water to the room.

He grabbed Brenna's pack and pushed it into her arms. "Go have your bath. Meet me in the common room when you're finished."

After she'd headed up the stairs, Kane went to the stable to check on the horses. The inn looked reputable, but he needed to be doubly cautious. He was no longer Captain of the Kingsguard - he no longer had the authority that came with the uniform. And they were in Duke Thorold's lands.

The horses looked well cared for. He treated both Blaze and Runner to apples he bought off an enterprising stable boy. He also promised the boy an extra coin in the morning if he was still satisfied with their care. Then it was time to look after his and Brenna's supper.

He chose a table in the corner, opposite the bar. From it, he had a clear view of the tavern room, the entrance, and the stairs to the rooms above. He sat down, his back against the wall, and ordered an ale.

Brenna leaned back in the tub with a sigh. Even though the water was no longer steaming, it still soothed her sore muscles. She'd taken a few minutes to add some crushed lavender to her bath water and she felt rested and refreshed by it. The inn keep's daughter had offered to bring more hot water, but Brenna had declined. Now that her body aches had subsided her empty stomach was more noticeable. She sighed and stretched one last time, then stood up and reached for the drying cloth.

Once dry she rubbed a salve on the worst of her aching muscles and donned a clean set of clothes. Now she felt ready to tackle the stairs.

Brenna felt out of place as she stood in the doorway to the common room. In Thieves Quarter, she'd never felt self-conscious but here in the country, a woman wearing breeches seemed unusual. Conscious of many eyes on her she spotted Kane and headed his way.

She slid onto the bench beside him.

"Perhaps I should have packed a skirt," she said. Brenna caught the eye of a serving girl and signaled for a mug of ale. "Our fellow travelers seem very interested in the way I'm dressed." As she gazed around the room, heads ducked and eyes turned away from her.

Besides the bench she and Kane shared, the round table they sat at had three other benches pulled up to it. She and Kane, the only ones seated at their table, both had their backs to the wall. The other six tables in the common room held a collection of merchants and locals of varying degrees of wealth, judging by their clothing.

"Do you own a skirt?" Kane asked. She watched his eyes dart around the room as he sipped his ale. He obviously didn't feel any more relaxed than she did.

"Of course I own a skirt." She paused when her own ale arrived and took a sip. "Well, I used to, anyway. I left it back in my old rooms. No doubt Eryl's given it to one of his women by now. It's fitting actually, since he's the one who gave it to me."

"Trying to domesticate you?"

"Maybe. It did come in handy a few times as a disguise, though," Brenna said. "Eryl always thought that was funny, that I'd need to disguise myself as a woman." Brenna took another sip.

"Eryl's a fool," Kane said quietly. "Ah, here's supper." He leaned back as the serving girl set two bowls and a plate of dark bread in front of them. "I hope you don't mind that I ordered the beef stew rather than the fried fish. We'll be traveling beside the river for a few days so there'll be time to eat fish another day."

Brenna sniffed at the bowl before her. "This smells great." What had Kane meant by that comment about Eryl? She grabbed her spoon and dipped it into the stew. Did it mean he thought of her as a woman and not just the heir to the prophecy? She put a spoonful of stew in her mouth and chewed slowly. Maybe he hadn't meant anything by his comment. Maybe it had just been a general opinion about Eryl. The old gods knew he often was a fool.

It didn't take long for Brenna to feel sleepy once her belly was full. Soon after she popped the last piece of gravy soaked bread into her mouth, her eyes drooped and she tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a yawn. She dragged herself up the stairs and a short time later she lay quietly in bed. The muffled sounds of the common room drifted up from below.

Kane had insisted she take the bed. He'd told her he'd check on the horses and then he'd be up. Earlier Brenna had decided that his comment about Eryl hadn't meant anything, so why was she nervous? All they were doing was sleeping in the same room. Something they'd be doing often she'd better get used to it. Eventually the long day caught up with her and Brenna fell into a deep sleep.

At the knock on his study door, Thorold tucked the document he'd been reading - correspondence from Langmore's King - underneath some other papers on his desk.

"Enter," he said. It was his newly appointed militia captain, Barton. Thorold had been impressed with the way the man had handled the fiasco with Kane Rowse and he'd promoted him. Barton had shown himself to be competent, unflappable and above all ambitious.

"Yes, Captain."

"My Lord. I've just had word that Kane Rowse and the girl left Kingsreach. I thought you would want to know as soon as possible."

"When was this?" He'd expected the girl to run, but with the Captain of the Kingsguard? And the man had resigned from his position just the day before. What was their connection? He didn't like this at all.

"Just before dawn," Barton said. "Apparently they crossed into Comack on the ferry this morning. They were seen along the road to Silverdale shortly after that."

"Hmm, that's almost twelve hours ago," Thorold said. He had a pretty good idea of where they would have stopped for the night. "Captain, well done. Send some men after them. If they leave now, they should be able to catch up with Rowse and the girl before they enter Fallad."

"I'll go myself," Barton said. "My Lord."

"There's more?" Thorold asked.

"Yes my Lord. From all accounts, the two were very well provisioned."

"Meaning?"

"It seemed unlikely they could have prepared so much since yesterday," Barton said. "I asked around and Rowse and his uncle have been buying travel provisions for some time."

"Really? That is interesting, Captain. Thank you." So Kane Rowse had planned to leave Kingsreach. But what about the witch? Where had she been all this time? She hadn't been in Thieves Quarter. He would have known.

"My Lord?" Barton said. "Here is the knife we took from the girl when she was caught in this office." Barton stepped forward and placed a sheathed knife on his desk in front of him.

Thorold nodded his dismissal. Barton turned and left the room and he reached for the weapon. He didn't like mysteries and this was an uncomfortable one. Why would his bastard granddaughter and Kane Rowse travel together? First he'd defended her against him and now they'd left town together. By all accounts they shouldn't even know each other - the Captain of the Kingsguard and a common thief. The only time they would have come into contact was when she'd been held for trying to steal the knife from the priest.

Thorold sat up. Could that be it? Did Kane Rowse know something about her that he didn't know? He slid the knife he held from its scabbard and stared at it.

This knife was almost as old as the one she'd tried to steal from the priest. He'd never been satisfied with the priest's account of that night. How had he seen the thief in his darkened room? It wasn't some sort of divine intervention by the One-God, but he had no other explanation.

What was it about these weapons that were connected to the girl? The age of the weapons was similar - Kane Rowse's sword, the knife from the priest and now this knife taken from Brenna. And he couldn't forget the first one, the one he'd killed the girl's mother with.

It made sense, in a way. The witch's knife had started him down this path, why shouldn't her daughter be part of it as well? And the Brotherhood was somehow behind it all.

"Fridrick!" he yelled. "Someone get that useless scholar in here now." Thorold heard hurried steps in the hall outside the door. The door opened and Fridrick stepped in, panting as he straightened his robe.

"Yes my Lord, you wished to see me?" Fridrick bowed low.

"What have you found out about the Brotherhood and Rowse?"

"Since I last reported, my Lord," Fridrick said. "I've discovered that the gathering Feiren Rowse hosted some weeks back to honor a retiring Weapons Master had more than just Kingsguard in attendance. Many guests were merchants. There were even some farmers."

"At an event to honour a Weapons Master?" Thorold asked. "You think this was a meeting of this Brotherhood?" He remembered that party. There had been something odd about it. Oh yes, there had been very little carousing in Kingsreach afterward. Unusual for a party involving so many soldiers, but maybe not so unusual for a secret meeting of the Brotherhood.

"I think it quite possible," Fridrick said. "And even a hint that the newly-appointed interim Captain of the Kingsguard belonged to a secret society could be damaging."

"I have another piece of the puzzle," Thorold said. "The knife I had hidden in the desk drawer has been stolen. I'm assuming the girl took it before she was found. It's important, in some way. How did she know where to look?"

"Why did she even want that knife?"

"It belonged to her mother." Thorold ignored Fridrick's sharp intake of breath. "It's the piece that started me down this road. I never would have begun collecting these old weapons if it hadn't been for that knife. It's key, I know it. But how did she know where to find it?

"You must find out more about the Brotherhood," Thorold said to Fridrick. "I will take care of Feiren Rowse." A few words spoken at the right time, in the right ears, and good Captain Rowse's reputation would suffer. And he would get his own man appointed as Captain of the Kingsguard. He would not tolerate Feiren Rowse much longer.

seventeen

The sounds of movement outside the door woke Brenna up. She winced when she sat up. Her back was stiff and her legs ached. Nothing in the room looked out of place, so she relaxed back into the mattress. Kane was sprawled on the floor beside the bed. She could hear his steady breathing underneath the sounds of the inn coming to life. After a few moments, she gave up on getting any more sleep.

"By the Brothers ..." Brenna said as she eased her legs onto the floor. The muscles of her thighs stretched and she stifled a grunt of pain. This had to get better. She could hardly move. Every muscle in her body ached. As quietly as she could, she dressed and left the room in search of breakfast.

Downstairs, the common room was empty so she poked her head through the kitchen door. A serving girl sorted out tea and food and a few minutes later she navigated the stairs back to the room with a heavy tray. Moving around had helped loosen up her aching muscles and she was able to open the door and shove the tray through it without dropping anything. When she looked up, a rumpled Kane was pulling on his shirt.

"You've brought breakfast?" He took the tray from her and she closed the door. "Thank you." He set the tray down, picked up the pot and poured the tea.

"You're welcome," she said. "You slept in." She grabbed a steaming mug and a warm roll. She bit into the roll and sighed as she savored the combination of sharp cheese and warm bread. "I thought military men all rose with the sun." Although she was glad he'd still been asleep. It would have been awkward to try to dress with him awake.

"Before the sun, actually," Kane said. "I was awake when you got up. I preferred to let you get breakfast."

"Such a gentleman," she said. "What if I hadn't brought anything back for you?" He'd pretended to be asleep? Maybe Kane was feeling odd about this too.

"But you did," Kane said. He took a swallow of tea and then a bite of his roll.

"Maybe next time I won't," Brenna said. She popped the last of her own roll into her mouth.

"I'll have to get breakfast next time, then," he said. "How are you feeling today? Are you ready to ride?"

Brenna rolled her tight shoulders and winced. "I'll do," she said. "Thank the gods I had a bath and used the salve." She turned to put her knife into her pack.

"Here." Kane dropped a worn leather belt into her hand. "I think you should wear your knife now that we're out of Kingsreach. This should fit you."

Brenna's other knife, the one Feiren had given her, had been taken by Thorold's men. Since then she'd been carrying her mother's knife in her pack. She threaded the leather belt through her knife's sheath and strapped it around her waist. This was the first time she'd ever worn her mother's knife - the weight of it on her hip felt natural, as though it belonged there, and the knife purred.

"Good, now you'll be able to defend this." He held out a purse to her.

She took it from him and hefted it - it was heavy. "You're not giving me all of it?" There was quite a lot of money in the purse. Kane trusted her, a thief, with it.

"Just half," Kane said. "In case we get separated. And I want your promise that if that happens, you'll continue on to Aruntun. You should be safe enough there. Since we didn't know where you would head, Dasid sent messages to the Brotherhood in all parts of Soule. We don't have many contacts in Aruntun, but there are enough members there you should be able to find them eventually. Especially since you can identify old steel."

Brenna nodded and placed the purse inside her shirt. She had another one, her own, wrapped to her leg inside her boot. No doubt more coin would be useful, especially if she and Kane did get separated. And she expected they would take their own paths eventually. Despite what he'd told her yesterday, she couldn't imagine him following her around for very long.

Brenna touched her knife to take a quick look for old steel. Except for what she and Kane carried, there was none in immediate area but she could sense old steel out there, as though she was the center of a web and the strands connected her and her knife to all old steel weapons. A few of the strands seemed familiar. Without thinking, she followed one she thought was Dasid.

"What are you doing?" Kane asked.

Brenna snapped back to her surroundings to find Kane staring at her intently, hand on his sword.

"Just now, what were you doing?" he repeated.

"I was just ... I don't know, exactly. I was sensing old steel and then I saw Dasid, well, not Dasid exactly, but ..." Brenna didn't think she could describe it to him. She wasn't even sure what she'd felt, just then.

"I could feel it, through my sword. And it was Dasid. I could sense him too," Kane said. He paced the small room.

"It's as if all old steel is somehow connected to me and my knife. My mother's knife," she said. "The first time I did this was when I had this knife."

"The day you were caught. It was you." Kane stopped in front of her. "I thought I heard you call my name, and then when I heard that Thorold had you ..."

Brenna nodded slowly. "I did feel you, through the knife. Maybe I called your name. I know I wanted you to know where I was." She glanced down at her knife again, this time in wonder.

"When we have some time we need to see what else you can do," Kane said. "It could be important. But for now, let's go. We have a long way to go today. I want to spend the night in Fallad."

Brenna grabbed her pack and headed for the door. She didn't need to be told twice. She'd feel much better once they were out of Duke Thorold's lands.

By mid afternoon her legs were in agony and her buttocks felt bruised. They'd eaten travel rations for their midday meal - hard biscuits, dried meat and a few berries Kane had found when they'd stopped. Brenna had barely managed to get herself back up on Blaze after that. Now she didn't think she'd be able to walk the next time she dismounted. But she'd had an uncomfortable feeling all afternoon, so she'd pushed herself. She hoped it was just general uneasiness at being in Comack and had nothing to do with her abilities as a Seer.

Kane said it was a little over two hours to the Falladian border. He'd been continuously scouting the road, both in front and behind and had given her lessons on how to canter and gallop her horse. They'd alternated between walking and cantering for the last few hours. It was even harder on her body, but she wanted, needed, to get out of Comack.

Kane trotted up beside her.

"Here's where we get off the road," he said.

"Are we being followed?" She glanced around nervously. In the city, she'd know what to do, but here she must rely completely on Kane. She felt helpless and she hated feeling that way.

"I haven't seen any signs, but I don't like where we are," Kane said. "The land is getting so flat that soon we'll be visible from a long way off. I'd rather be in the trees before it gets to that point." He pointed to a distant copse of trees that ran parallel to the road. "We'll need to go straight through the fields to get to it, but the river should be just beyond the trees. I'll stay back and try to cover our trail. You can dismount and start walking. The corn here is tall enough to hide us from a distance."

Kane dismounted and Brenna followed suit. Her legs buckled as she slid off Blaze and she grabbed onto the saddle. The horse turned one eye her way and snorted, as if to reprimand her. She took a few hesitant steps and picked a path through the corn, leaning heavily on Blaze's shoulder as she walked. After a few paces her legs started to feel like hers again. Kane caught up to her when she was halfway to the trees.

"I tried to leave a false trail or two," he said. "And I did my best to cover where we entered the field."

Brenna nodded and made room for him to slip past with Runner. In front, Kane trampled a path through the corn and they traveled faster.

When they reached the trees, Brenna sighed with relief. There was about an hour left before dusk. Kane handed Runner's lead to her and he climbed part way up a sturdy pine tree.

"I don't see anyone behind us," he said. He dropped to the ground "Time to mount up."

Kane boosted her back into the saddle and she sucked in a breath. He sent her a worried look.

"Let's just go," she said. Brothers, but she didn't think she'd ever get used to this.

Kane led them through the gloom underneath the trees - a mix of maple and pine along with a sprinkling of birch. The underbrush of soft grasses and ferns was lush and green and the horses' hooves sank into it soundlessly. After a few minutes, Brenna heard a rumbling in the distance.

"It's the Silverdale," Kane said. "I was pretty sure this wooded area would meet up with the river. We'll cross into Fallad soon."

They were almost at the river when Brenna heard a noise behind them. Before she had a chance to turn around, Kane slapped the rump of her horse and it leaped forward.

"Run!" Kane shouted.

She grabbed her saddle and held on tight. They crashed past tree limbs and jumped over roots and tangled bushes. She leaned over Blaze's neck and prayed to Jik for protection, her voice lost in the horse's streaming mane. She turned when she heard the sounds of a rider close behind. It was Kane, his sword in one hand. Behind him, and to the left, were two riders. She felt Blaze falter slightly. There, a third rider was coming up on her right.

"Keep going!" Kane yelled and he wheeled his horse around.

A branch snagged at her hair and she hunched over Blaze's neck. She heard a thump and a sickening scream of pain and she prayed that it hadn't been Kane.

The third rider was still gaining on her. Brenna grabbed her knife - power surged through her body as her knife blazed to life. Instinctively, she called to the old steel. Her knife crackled with energy and she felt Kane's sword flare in answer. She could feel him, through the old steel - he was alive, for now.

Brenna's pursuer was joined by another, but they both shied away when she waved her blazing knife at them. She rode blindly through the woods, the two riders right behind. She could no longer hear Kane but a quick check through her knife told her he was still alive. Other old steel was even closer, but it was wrong, discordant.

Suddenly the three of them broke through the trees and onto the riverbank. Blaze slipped on the softer soil, but Brenna clung to the horse and stayed on. For another quarter hour, Blaze kept ahead of their pursuers but even Brenna, unskilled with horses as she was, felt the poor beast falter underneath her.

She pulled up on the reins and Blaze wheezed to a stop, flecks of white speckling her neck. Brenna slid to the ground. She wasn't sure she could stand, but she had no choice. Blaze was spent and she wasn't going to be taken alive. She tried to contact Kane through the old steel. Get here soon, she prayed.

She gripped Blaze's saddle for support and held her knife out in front of her. The two riders slowly edged their horses towards her. She let her knife flare even brighter and one of the men stopped. The other one kept coming. Then she recognized him.

"If it isn't Thorold's lackey," Brenna said. "Barton is it?" Brenna kept Blaze between her and the second rider.

His sword snicked from its scabbard, glinting in the light from her knife. "Come with me little girl, and you won't be hurt," Barton said. He nudged his horse closer.

"You don't understand your master if you think that," Brenna said. She checked for Kane through her knife. He was still too far away. "I know what Thorold has planned for me. He'll try to use me. If he can't, he'll kill me. That doesn't sound like I won't be hurt."

Now that they were still, she could better sense Barton's sword. It was old steel, but different in some way - discordant and somehow wrong. And it hadn't lit up like her knife and Kane's sword. She reached towards it, and gasped. The sense of wrongness intensified and Brenna clutched at Blaze's saddle to stay upright. She blocked herself from his sword.

"You won't take me alive, you know," she said. "I've been an indentured servant to Duke Thorold before. I won't do it again."

"I think we can take one little girl with a knife," Barton drawled. His horse took a step towards her and Barton waved the second man in as well.

Brenna leaned against Blaze and reached into her pack. "I'm a witch and a healer. Do you think I didn't prepare something, just in case?" She held up a small jar. "It's a very potent poison, in powder form. Just a small amount can kill instantly. Once the wind catches it, who knows how far it will travel?" She smiled as she saw both men rein in their mounts. "As I said, you won't take me alive." Let them decide if she was bluffing. She checked for Kane - he was almost here.

A branch snapped and Kane rode into view. His sword still shone, although there were dark stains along the length of it.

"Well, Barton," Kane said. "We meet again. And it looks like the roles are reversed - last time I was the captain." Kane circled his horse around the other two riders, his sword pointed at Barton.

"I see your witch has given you a fancy toy." Barton kept his eyes on Kane's sword.

"It's no toy," Kane said. "This sword has been handed down in my family for generations. It's killed many men, including your two friends back there." Kane gestured behind him. "If you leave now, I'll let you gather their belongings for their families."

Barton scowled. His companion shifted his reins and closed in on Kane. Steel clashed against steel and then all Brenna could see was Barton advancing on her. She took two shaky steps back and then Barton reached down, grabbed her arm, and wrenched her towards him. The bottle flew from her hand and smashed on a rock. She thrust up weakly with her knife, cutting into the arm that held her. Barton swore but did not loosen his grip.

"I'll make you pay for that, witch." With one hand he dragged her up against the side of his horse. He dropped his reins and backhanded her across the face.

Brenna struggled against the horse's bulk. Her knife still in her hand, she stabbed wildly and connected with the flank of Barton's horse. With a high-pitched scream, the horse reared. Barton was forced to jump clear and Brenna was thrown to the ground. She crawled away, only to have Barton grab her again. This time he pinned her knife hand into the dirt with his boot.

She kicked out, but missed. "Let go of me!" Brenna yelled.

"I suggest you do as the lady says, friend."

Brenna looked up into the face of a stranger, the tip of his sword pointed directly at Barton's chest. The tip of his glowing sword. Barton stepped back and she rolled away, her knife clutched to her side. Another man reached out a hand and helped her to her feet. More men disarmed Kane's attacker.

"Kane." She hobbled over to him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. What about you?" Kane sheathed his sword and looked her over. He frowned when he peered at her face.

"Nothing is broken." She gingerly touched her swelling cheek. "I'm sure I'll look a sight, though."

He looped his left arm over her shoulders. "But you're safe," he said. He turned them both towards the men who now filled the small clearing.

"Well met, Brother," Kane said. He clasped hands with the man who had saved Brenna. "No names yet," he said softly and the other man nodded.

He was slightly taller than Kane and perhaps a dozen years older. He had dark hair and a beard, and eyes so brown they appeared black. His sword still glowed softly and Brenna reached out to it and all the other old steel. She didn't understand how she'd missed them before. Perhaps she'd been too distracted by her own situation, or maybe she'd been concentrating on Kane so much that nothing else had registered. Now she saw six, no seven pieces of old steel, since their leader carried both sword and knife. All of the weapons matched their bearers - there was none of the wrongness she'd sensed with Barton's sword. With a mental shrug, Brenna let all the weapons go dark.

"That's quite the trick, lass," the Brother said, looking at his weapon with interest. "Although, seeing as it's getting dark, it might be nice if we had some light to see who we're dealing with."

"Oh, sorry," Brenna said. She quickly let his and one of his companion's swords flare to life again. "Is that enough?"

"A fine trick, indeed," he said and grinned at her. She smiled in response and leaned tiredly into Kane.

"I can see that you're about done," the man said. "So why don't you and the captain mount up and be on your way. The border's just up a ways. I'll send two of my men along to make sure you make it safely. There's a fine inn not far from the border, we may as well meet up there later. I'll make sure our friends make it home safely."

Brenna must have dozed off in the saddle. She had no recollection of the journey to the inn, but here they were. She grabbed onto Kane as he helped her down from Blaze.

"We'll take care of the horses, Captain," one of the Brothers said.

"Thank you, Jesson," Kane said. "We appreciate that."

"Yes, thank you," Brenna said. She leaned heavily into Kane and concentrated on moving her stiff and sore legs. She didn't think she could make it to the stable, let alone care for Blaze.

Jesson nodded and he and the second Brother led all four horses away.

"Tell me again when riding gets easier?" Brenna asked Kane. She let go of him and limped towards the door of the inn.

"Today's riding was rough." Kane picked up their packs and slung them over one shoulder. "We should have easier traveling now that we're in Fallad."

Kane held the door for her and Brenna entered the dimly lit inn. The noisy rumble of the common room greeted her and she paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim light of the candles that lit the room.

"I'll order you another bath," Kane said. "I'm sure you could use a good long soak."

"Thanks." Brenna hesitated. "Do you want one first?"

"No, I'll wait for the rest of the Brothers. I haven't met all of them before, although I do know Lord Westley Stobert."

"He's the one in charge?" Brenna asked. "They feel like true Brotherhood. At least their old steel feels right. And you trust them?"

"The ones I know, yes," Kane said. "They're from old families. Lord Stobert especially," Kane said. "He's the Brother closest to the Duke of Fallad. Now let's get you sorted out." Kane headed towards a woman in a large apron.

Brenna waited while Kane arranged a room and bath. If he thought Lord Stobert could be trusted, she'd have to take his word for it, at least for now. She was too tired to do anything else. And they had rescued them.

Kane finished with the inn keep. Exhausted, Brenna followed him up the stairs to a room. Once inside, she dropped onto the bed and closed her eyes. She heard Kane move quietly around the room. The sound of splashing water lulled her to sleep.

Brenna bolted awake; she felt old steel close by. It called her. Kane sat on the chair across from the bed, his head bent as he cleaned his sword. The cloth he held was dark with dried blood and the sword hummed. He wiped the cloth along the steel and the hum vibrated along her spine. She shuddered. Two men dead tonight - it could have been her and Kane.

Kane glanced up at her. "Are you all right?" he asked. She simply nodded and lay back down. She heard Kane slide his sword back into the scabbard and the old steel quieted.

There was a soft knock on the door. Kane opened it and a serving woman hauled in a wooden tub through the door. She was followed by two lads with buckets of steaming water. Once the tub was filled and the inn staff gone, Kane left to find their rescuers.

Brenna eased herself off the bed and rummaged in her pack. She pulled out a few bundles and sniffed at one - lavender. She poured some dried petals into her palm and rubbed gently before she tossed them into the bath water. She slipped into the tub and sighed as the warmth soaked into her bruised and battered muscles.

She rubbed her wrist where Barton had grabbed her. If she hadn't had the weapons training from Feiren and Kane she probably would be dead. Goose bumps raised on her arm despite the warmth of the bath. It hadn't much mattered to Barton whether she was alive or dead when he delivered her to Duke Thorold. She'd heard it in his voice, seen it in his eyes, and felt it through his sword.

Another new thing - being able to sense a person's intent through old steel. She'd never wanted any of it. Still didn't, but now she needed every advantage she had just to stay alive.

The water was cool by the time the hollow rumble of her stomach finally forced her from the bath. Brenna smoothed a peppery salve onto her aching muscles and then dug into her pack for some clean clothes. What she'd worn today was filthy and torn - she'd be wearing her black thieving gear before long. She eyed herself in the mirror and grimaced. The skin around her right eye was swollen and red, and one side of her lip was puffed up. She gently prodded the inflamed skin. At least there was no permanent damage.

She pulled the old steel mortar and pestle out of her pack, along with an assortment of herbs and roots. The old steel felt almost warm in her hands. She rubbed her thumb along the base. Feiren had given her the mortar and pestle, along with the coronet. He'd said they belonged with her, the heir. She hadn't argued. They had such a strong draw on her she couldn't have left them behind and she was grateful that she hadn't been forced to steal them from a man who'd only shown her kindness.

She put the ingredients into the mortar and crushed them into a green, pungent paste. She scooped some up and gently spread it around her eye, careful not to tug too hard at the tender skin. She let the paste sit until the top layer dried and cracked before she wiped the excess off. It would be better leave it on, but she didn't think she get served in the common room with the thick green paste caked on her face.

She pulled her hair back with a cord and checked herself in the mirror. No trace of green paste but she probably didn't smell very good. She shrugged. She couldn't do anything about that now. She opened the door and almost collided with one of the Brothers.

"They're down the hall a ways," he said. "It's the third door on the left."

"Thank you," Brenna replied. She closed the door to the room and headed down the hall. No meal in the common room after all. She wasn't sure she liked having a guard standing outside of her door. Was he there to keep others out or to keep her in?

She was let into the room by one of the Brothers.

"Brenna," Kane said. "You made it. This is our host, Lord Westley Stobert."

Kane sat at a table across from Lord Stobert. A pitcher of ale and some glasses sat on the table. "Lord Stobert, this is Brenna Lightfingers. The Caller."

"Well met, Lord Stobert," Brenna said. "Thank you for your help."

"My pleasure," he said. "My men will have a tale to tell about the Caller, won't they?" Lord Stobert rose and shook her hand. "Please, sit."

Gratefully, Brenna sank into a chair at the table. Kane poured her a glass of ale and she took a sip.

Stobert waved to the guard at the door, who nodded once and left the room.

"Quint will fetch our supper," Stobert said. "Captain Rowse assured me you'd appreciate the venison."

"Thank you," Brenna said. "Kane is right about that." She leaned back and looked around the room.

A second guard stood by the window. Were they expecting anyone to come in that way? Brenna pushed her weariness aside. Kane seemed relaxed, but she wasn't.

There was one Brother in here, one out in the hall and Quint on his way to the kitchen. Brenna touched her knife briefly and searched for more old steel. She recognized the blades of the two men who had escorted them to the inn. Jesson, Kane had called one. They were outside, most likely in the stable. One more blade that felt familiar was already a fair distance away and moving steadily further.

"Where's he going?" she asked Lord Stobert. "You have a man on the road headed away from here." She rested her hand on her knife hilt. She wasn't sure how far she'd be able to track the old steel, but for now she could still sense him.

"Who? Oh." Lord Stobert said. "Kersey. He's gone ahead to Silverdale." He smiled. "We need to make arrangements to hide you two."

"Why didn't you mention that earlier?" Kane asked. "You've just had to rescue us. The fewer people who know where we are the safer we'll be."

"But you are safe," Stobert said. "You're in Fallad now. I didn't think I needed to consult you."

Brenna looked from him back to Kane, and frowned. Bad enough that Kane made decisions for her, now she had some stranger doing so as well. She didn't like it, Brotherhood or not. Not after almost getting killed tonight.

"Lord Stobert," Brenna said. "Any decision that concerns me will not be made without me. Do you understand?" Her hand still rested on her knife hilt and she reached through the old steel to him. Was that a flicker of ... dislike? resentment?

"Yes, of course," Lord Stobert said. "I was only trying to keep you safe. Please forgive me."

"Certainly," Brenna said. She'd felt ... something, in the old steel but it was gone now. She was exhausted. Had she really felt his emotions? It was frustrating to have abilities and not understand them. She wished someone could teach her, the way Feiren and Kane had taught her how to use a knife as a weapon.

"Lord Stobert," Brenna said. "How was it your men happened to be on the Comack side of the border? I'd be interested to find out exactly how that happened."

Lord Westley Stobert liked to talk, of that Kane was absolutely certain. It took him the whole meal to tell his tale. Lord Stobert and his men had received a message from Dasid and were on the lookout for Kane and Brenna. They'd been near the border when their old steel weapons started to glow. One of the men had been at the meet at Uncle Feiren's and had recognized it as a talent of the Caller. Then they'd all gotten very lucky. Stobert's men had spotted the light from Kane and Brenna's weapons.

Once Kane and Brenna had been rescued, Stobert had let Barton and the other guard go. He said he didn't dare detain them, not while in Comack - their gear and horses had been confiscated for safekeeping, though.

"I'll have to send it all back across the border tomorrow," Stobert said. "Duke Thorold has some power in Fallad. He winters some of his prized horses not far from here and pays a good price for the best feed. It means he'll know where you are."

"He already knew," Kane said. "Barton was sent. Besides, knowing where we were isn't the same as knowing where we are going. If you could delay the return of the gear for a day, or even half a day, that could help us." He looked over at Brenna. Her eyes were half closed with fatigue. "We could use a rest."

"I think I can manage that," Stobert said and smiled. "I'll send it back at dusk tomorrow. Duke Thorold won't like it but he's not going to be happy anyway."

"Thank you, Lord Stobert," Kane said. "Now, Brenna needs to rest. Let me get her settled and then I'll be back. Come on Brenna." He helped her to her feet and steered her towards the door. "Time to sleep."

One of Lord Stobert's men stood outside their door. Good. Once he left Brenna she'd be safe. The guard nodded and stepped back while Kane pushed open the door to the room and helped Brenna inside.

The room stank. He wrinkled his nose and led Brenna to the bed. As he lowered her down onto the bed her hair brushed his face. Brenna smelled too.

"What is that?" he asked. But Brenna was already stretched out on the bed, one arm bent and a fist tucked under her chin. Kane removed her boots and pulled the blanket up over her. Sleep was the best thing for her. She'd had a rough couple of days on the road. They both had.

The old steel mortar and pestle sat on the table by the door, the green mass inside it cracked and dried. Kane sniffed it - definitely the source of the smell. He nudged the side of the mortar with one finger. He'd better leave it alone. He used an old steel weapon, but this was different - older and not related to the Brotherhood. Besides, there was no telling what Brenna had put in it. He leaned over the bed and opened the shutter on the small window. He'd need fresh air if he if wanted to get some sleep later. Brenna was fast asleep when he left.

"Captain," Stobert said when Kane returned. "I've poured you a brandy."

"You should call me Kane," he said. He took the glass from Lord Stobert's outstretched. "I'm not Captain of the Kingsguard any more."

"That explains why Thorold would dare to send men after you," Stobert said. "Who will be named captain after you?"

"My uncle has resumed the captaincy until a replacement is appointed," Kane said and sipped at his brandy. "Duke Thorold will have a man named to the post soon, I expect."

"It would not be good for this part of the country if Thorold were to control the Kingsguard."

"It would not be good for any part of the country," Kane said. "But the prophesy is now in motion. The Call has been spoken."

"By that slip of a girl," Stobert said.

"Do not underestimate 'that slip of a girl'," Kane said. Stobert would come around, Kane was sure. The man was dedicated to the Brotherhood. "I heard the Call, and I've seen how old steel responds to her."

"With light."

"Yes, with light," Kane nodded. "But that's not all. She can recognize people by their old steel, as she showed tonight. She knew that your man was on the road."

"Yes, she did," Stobert said. "So she can tell where men are by the old steel they carry? That could be useful." Stobert paused slightly before he continued. "I hear she's a thief."

"Yes," Kane said. "Quite a good one."

"Not exactly what we'd expected from the prophesy," Lord Stobert said. "Your uncle has declared her the true heir?"

"My uncle has no doubts about Brenna," Kane said. "Neither do I." If Lord Stobert had attended the meet at his uncle's house it would have given him some time to get used to Brenna as heir. Kane finished his brandy and set the glass on the table. "You'll be able to judge Brenna yourself in the next few days," Kane said. "I have no doubt she'll prove herself to you. Good night, Lord Stobert." He then left to get some sleep.

Brenna lifted her head off the pillow and groaned. Her neck was stiff and sore.

Despite not having ridden before she'd been so sure she'd be able to keep up with Kane on this journey. After all, she'd spent years climbing onto roof tops and squeezing into tight spots and she'd just been through all that training with Feiren and Kane. Now she felt as though she'd been trampled by a dozen horses.

She let her head drop back onto the bed. She didn't want to move, not yet. She craned her neck to see if Kane was still sleeping but he wasn't there. A steaming pot sat on the table by her head, one chipped white cup beside it. Was that tea? Had Kane left it for her? How late was it, anyway? She didn't really remember coming to bed last night. Just a few disjointed memories of Kane leading her through the door. After that, nothing.

Startled, she sat up. With a grunt of pain swung her legs over the side of the bed. She'd let Kane take complete control, which made her feel uncomfortable. Even worse, now she remembered that he'd gone back to talk to Lord Stobert. She'd been alone and exhausted with Stobert's guard outside of the room. What if he'd meant her harm? She remembered her vague uneasiness when she'd seen the guard last night. Was he there to keep her safe or keep her in? Kane obviously thought it was the former. She wasn't so sure. She was sure she wouldn't leave herself vulnerable again, no matter what Kane thought.

She lifted the lid on the pot - it was tea. She poured a mug and shuffled over to sit in the chair by the window. She tugged the curtains aside. From where the sun was in the sky it was close to mid-morning. In the courtyard a kitchen maid had almost finished cleaning up after the morning trade. It would be a cold breakfast then, but at least there was no sign that Kane expected them to ride today.

Brenna finished her tea and limped over to the washbasin. Her legs were stiff after sitting for just a few moments. A splash of cold water on her face revived her a little and she peered into the mirror. Brothers, but she looked a wreck. The skin was dark purple where she'd been hit, and her lip was still swollen.

She picked up the mortar and looked at the paste that caked it. She'd meant to clean it out last night. She added a little water and mixed it until it was a smooth paste again. Maybe being in contact with old steel all night would make the paste work faster. Old steel was magic, right? Brenna plastered her face with the paste. It was dry by the time she'd cleaned the mortar and pestle.

With a second cup of tea in hand, she moved back to the window. The paste soothed the hot, tight skin around her eye. Once the paste was dry enough, she flaked it off and rinsed her face. Now to find something to eat.

Brenna stepped out of the kitchen into the courtyard, a cold bun with cheese in one hand. She hadn't seen any of Stobert's guards, which was a relief. They were members of the Brotherhood, but they were Lord Stobert's men through and through - she wasn't sure they would ever be loyal to her, no matter what Kane thought.

This late in the morning the common room had been empty. A kitchen maid told her Kane had been around earlier, so Brenna had relaxed and grabbed something to eat. Now she needed a walk to try to loosen up her stiff muscles.

She licked the crumbs off her fingers and wandered over to the stable to look in on Blaze. Brenna was grateful that the poor horse had managed that wild ride without throwing her – it had allowed Lord Stobert and his men to reach her and Kane in time.

Blaze was in a stall at the back of the stables. Runner poked his head out of the stall beside her and she rubbed his nose before she unlatched the door to Blaze's stall. Blaze snorted and snuffled at her hand.

"Hey there," Brenna said. "You seem to be recovering. Let's see if there's any damage." She ran her hands over the horse's shoulder and down one front leg. It had been years since she'd had a horse as a patient but her hands remembered what to feel for. Blaze didn't flinch when she touched her, which was a good sign. She worked her way around the horse, gently checking each leg and hoof. When she finished with the right front hoof, Blaze nuzzled her neck.

"All right." She laughed. "I'm done now, don't be so pushy." She straightened up and the horse nudged her hand. "Sorry Blaze, I don't have any treats with me."

"Here, give her this."

She looked up to see Kane at the stall door. He held up a piece of apple and she grabbed it.

She held her hand out, the apple on her flat palm. Blaze's breath tickled her palm as the horse gently lipped at the piece of fruit. A soft snort and then the apple was gone.

"There you go," Brenna said. She stroked the white patch on Blaze's nose as the horse crunched the fruit. Then the velvety nose nudged her hand again.

"That's all I have. You'll have to ask Kane." Brenna looked at him and he shook his head. "We'll get you more later. You deserve it." With one final pat, she left the stall.

She matched her strides to Kane's as they wandered out of the barn and away from the inn.

"I take it we aren't riding today?" she asked.

"No. I thought we could use the time to recover. How are you feeling?"

"I'm still a bit stiff, and I'll have bruises for a while yet. But it's mostly just aches and pains."

He reached out a hand to touch her bruised face. She stopped and turned to him and her breath caught in her chest.

"And this?" he asked.

His fingers traced the bruise and she felt her face grow warm, her eyes locked on his. Then his hand dropped to his side and he looked away.

"It looks much worse than it is," she said, flustered. "I put a poultice on it and the swelling is almost gone. A few days and the bruising will fade as well."

"Yes, I smelled the poultice," he said. "I had to open the window in the room."

Brenna laughed. "It is rather pungent."

"It wasn't just the room that smelled," he said.

"I could have made a poultice that smelled worse." She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "I still could."

"Please, no," Kane laughed. "I promise to supply you with more apples for Blaze."

"Since it's for Blaze, I won't make the other poultice."

They started back to the inn but after a few steps Kane slowed and turned to her.

"We need to talk to Lord Stobert about meeting with Duke Ewart," Kane said, his voice serious. "I could find Ewart myself but Lord Stobert will be able to do it more quietly. I don't want Thorold to know about this meeting. I'm going to ask Duke Ewart to go to Kingsreach. Someone on the king's council has to challenge Thorold."

"Should I come?" Suddenly Brenna was nervous. Duke Ewart wasn't in the Brotherhood. He might look at her as a servant - as the bastard daughter of a servant. Brenna didn't want anyone to look at her that way again. In Thieves' Quarter she'd been respected as a healer and a thief and since the Brotherhood had come into her life she'd been the heir to their prophecy. She liked being respected and listened to. And Duke Ewart was her father's cousin, though she doubted he knew it.

"You should meet him," Kane said. "He won't understand your position but you'll be able to get a sense of the man."

"I don't trust Stobert," Brenna said. "Or his men."

"He'll come around," Kane said "He's Brotherhood. He did rescue us."

"Yes," Brenna said. "But I don't trust him."

"I wouldn't worry about it. You're the heir to the prophecy. He'll rely on that in the end."

But she did worry about it. She'd felt something in the old steel. She just wished she understood what it was.

In early afternoon, Kane rode off with Lord Stobert and his men. They were going to check the border to see if Barton had crossed into Fallad. One of Stobert's men would also deliver the horses and gear they'd captured to Thorold's nearest minor lord.

She was under Lord Stobert's protection so she'd be safe at the inn, but before he'd left, Kane had asked her to try not to attract any undue attention. Brenna would have smiled if she hadn't been so relieved to have Stobert and his men gone for the afternoon. She was a good thief in part because she was good at not being noticed.

She was too stiff to try to ride but she took Blaze out for a walk in a nearby meadow. With the horse tied to a tree Brenna dropped a hand to her knife hilt, closed her eyes and reached out through the old steel.

She felt Kane almost immediately. He was safe. Had she really thought Lord Stobert might harm him? She looked for Lord Stobert's sword and knife. Today there was none of the unease she'd felt previously. Had she imagined it? She dropped her hand from her knife. The connection was still there, but fainter. Was she uncomfortable with Westley Stobert only because of what she'd felt through old steel? No. He'd made some assumptions and decisions for her and when she'd challenged him he'd been unhappy. He'd covered up his displeasure quickly. Maybe too quickly. Was he hiding something?

It was late afternoon and although Brenna had the beginnings of a headache, she was still no closer to understanding what she'd felt through the old steel. She'd tracked Kane and Lord Stobert back to the inn so she untied Blaze and headed back to the stable. She'd meet up with them there.

The common room was busy when Brenna and Kane entered. She'd been able to persuade him to eat downstairs, rather than with Lord Stobert. She wanted to talk to him without Stobert present.

"We'll talk to Lord Stobert after we eat," Kane said. "About meeting with Duke Ewart. I thought it best to wait until we were both there."

"Good," Brenna said. They found a couple of seats at a table close to the door. It wasn't very private, but it would have to do. Once they'd ordered lamb stew and some ale from a passing serving girl, Brenna leaned in towards Kane.

"Did Lord Stobert say anything about me today?" she asked.

"We did talk some," Kane replied. "I think he'll come around. Remember, some of the Brotherhood in Kingsreach had trouble accepting that the heir was a woman."

"I know," she said. "There's just something about him that I don't trust."

"You said that before, but you didn't give me anything specific," Kane said. "And I have every reason to believe he can be trusted."

"So you've said," Brenna replied. Was Kane right? She hadn't felt anything negative through the old steel today, and she'd tried. Maybe she was uneasy because she was far from everything and everyone she knew? In Thieves' Quarter she would have been able to find information on Westley Stobert, would have had more to judge him by. Here she had to rely on Kane. Was that what this was about? Kane wanted her to trust him. Now she had to whether she liked it or not.

After their meal she and Kane headed upstairs to Lord Stobert's rooms. Jesson let them in.

"Come, sit," Stobert said. Brenna and Kane joined him at the table. "Are you feeling better Brenna?"

"Yes," she replied. "A day of rest has helped."

"Good," Stobert said. "We need to be on the road early tomorrow."

"We'll be ready to leave at dawn," Kane said. He opened his mouth to continue but Brenna put her hand on his arm. She wanted to make the request.

"Lord Stobert," Brenna said. "Kane and I need to talk to Duke Ewart. Can you arrange it?" She dropped her hand to her knife hilt. There was a brief flicker of ... annoyance? from Lord Stobert, but his face remained impassive.

"And what would be the purpose?" Stobert asked.

"There are events in motion that we cannot affect from Fallad," Kane said. "Thorold has more power than ever before. He already has the church as an ally and soon will have a man of his choice as Captain of the Kingsguard. Ewart, by right as a Duke of Soule, is on the king's council and the council needs a voice of reason. I believe that as long as the king is able, he will listen to that reason."

"What do you mean 'as long as the king is able'?" Westley asked.

"The king has been ill for a very long time, but in the past year or so his health has deteriorated quickly," Kane said. "Ever since Thorold's son Beldyn was named as the king's heir."

"And you don't believe it to be a coincidence."

"No," Brenna spoke up. "It's not. The king is being poisoned."

"Have you proof? This is treason of the worst sort," Westley said.

"The king's symptoms point to a specific poison," Brenna said. "There's no proof that ties this poison to the Duke, but who else benefits? Now the king may have outlived his usefulness."

"Or will as soon as he appoints Thorold's choice to the Kingsguard Captaincy," Kane added.

"Duke Ewart must know this at once," Westley said. "How much time do you think the king has left?"

"It's difficult to say," Kane said. "Before we left, we gave a Brother an antidote. If he's successful in getting the correct dose to the king, the progression of his illness will stop. It's not a cure, though."

Brenna nodded. "Without an antidote, the king will last no more than a year, perhaps two. It's possible that even a small amount of antidote could counteract the poisons in his body enough to extend that time by months or years. But the best we could hope for, even with the best treatment, is three or four years."

"How do you know this?" Stobert asked.

"I'm a healer," Brenna said. "I was taught by my mother.

"And you're sure?"

She nodded and Stobert seemed to shrink down into his chair.

"Duke Ewart is needed on the king's council," Stobert said after a moment.  
"Yes, I'll arrange a meeting for Kane. He'll be happy to meet with the former Captain of the Kingsguard. Brenna, I'm not sure I can include you. He's not Brotherhood."

Brenna looked at him solemnly. "My mother was a healer - Duke Thorold's healer. That's how I know about this poison. My father was Thorold's oldest son, Alastair. My father was Duke Ewart's cousin."

"The prophecy," Westley said. He looked at her in surprise. "You have two of the four bloodlines. I will try to get you included in the meeting."

"Do your best," Kane said.

Brenna leaned back in her chair. Why did she feel that Lord Stobert had no intention of allowing her meet with Duke Ewart?

eighteen

Thorold studied his captain. The man had clearly been through much; his uniform was dirty and torn and there was blood on his right sleeve.

"Captain," Thorold said. "You didn't recognize any of them, but you believe they are of this Brotherhood?"

"Yes sir. Rowse very clearly greeted one of them as Brother."

"And their swords were alight?"

"Yes, my Lord," Barton replied. "The girl, the witch, she seemed to be the one controlling it. Her knife and Rowse's sword lit up first. It was a surprise that, but it didn't seem to do anything other than give off some light."

"A surprise," Thorold said. "Yes, I'm sure it was." There must be more to it than just the light.

"Then the other men arrived with swords blazing," Barton continued. "At one point all their weapons went dark, then the older man said it would be nice if they had some light and two swords lit up again. The witch asked if that was enough. When they left us in the woods I could still see the glow from one of those bloody swords." Barton swayed slightly.

"Thank you, Captain, you may go get some rest," Thorold said. "But not too much. You need to take more men and go after them. You must be discreet since you'll be in Fallad. You have twenty four hours."

Barton nodded and turned and left.

"Boy," he said to the page who stood by the door. "Get me Master Fridrick." The page scurried off to find the scholar.

Fridrick hadn't found out nearly enough information about the Brotherhood and Thorold had very little patience left. He needed to know what the Brotherhood was and how Feiren and Kane Rowse, and this girl, fit into it. At least now he knew how the old priest had been able to see the thief. But why was this witch, his own flesh and blood, able to make the weapons light up?

Kane sat up and stretched his stiff muscles. He was getting used to sleeping on the floor. It wasn't actually much harder than his cot at the barracks had been. What he hadn't gotten used to was sharing a room with Brenna. He hoped he could manage his feelings better once they were camping out in the open. In the small room, the rustle of her mattress and her soft snores constantly reminded him that she was not meant for him. But the more time he spent with her, the more he was drawn to her. She was smart and funny and challenging and annoying. And so brave.

Since the night of the healer's death Brenna's whole life had changed. She'd faced that head on without letting them take away all of her independence. Going out into the city at night when the church wanted you dead had not been the safest thing to do, but she hadn't let fear cripple her. It was that spirit that had found a way into his heart.

Brenna had some feelings for him. He'd seen it in her eyes. But he was afraid that if he let himself, he would fall so hard and fast and deep that he would never be able to give her up. She was the heir to the prophecy. She was destined to sit on the throne of Soule. Any marriage would need to be a political alliance. And he'd sworn an oath, the oath he'd left the king's service to fulfill. He needed to guide and protect Brenna as the prophecy unfolded. He would not jeopardize that, no matter how tempted.

Quietly, Kane rose and left the room in search of breakfast.

In the kitchen, the cook and her staff made up a tray for him and soon he was back at the door to their room. Was she still asleep? Part of him hoped for a few moments to simply study her face. Enough. He settled the tray in one hand and knocked on the room door. He waited a few seconds before he opened it.

"I've brought breakfast," he said and then almost dropped the tray.

Brenna sat on the side of the bed as she tied the laces on her shirt. Kane swallowed hard as she covered up her bare skin. He set the tray down on the side table and backed away. By the time she looked up at him he'd recovered and was leaning casually, so he hoped, against the wall.

"Thank you," Brenna said. "Did you manage to get us something hot?"

"Yes. There's ham and the bread's just out of the oven." He wandered over to the window and drew the curtain aside. The day looked dull and dreary.

"Are you feeling up for the ride?" Kane asked. She hadn't complained much yesterday but she'd moved as though she was stiff and sore. The wild ride and fight with Barton and his men had caused him some aches and pains. He'd had to kill two men, something he hadn't had to do in a long time. He'd forgotten how much harder than training a real fight was - and how much longer it took to recover physically. He dropped the curtain. Today he felt old.

Kane looked over at her. One at a time, she bent her knees and lifted them towards her chest. Then she stretched her arms over her head. The fabric of her shirt tightened over the swell of her breasts and Kane turned back to the window.

"I think I'm fine," Brenna said. "We'll see what a day in the saddle does to me, though. Do you think we'll be staying in an inn tonight?"

"We may. I rather doubt our friend Lord Stobert likes sleeping in the rain." He crossed to the table and picked up a plate and handed it to her.

"Here, eat up," Kane said. "We need to get going."

Through the drizzle, Brenna could still see the shadowy peaks of the Godswall mountains. She swiveled forward in her saddle. Farmland stretched ahead. Cold rain trickled down her back and she hunched under her cloak as Blaze plodded after Runner. She pushed her wet hair out of her eyes again. Where was the gods' forsaken inn? They'd passed one an hour ago but Stobert had insisted they keep going. There was another, better inn further on, he'd said. If she'd been asked she would have told them better was not needed for her, but she hadn't been asked, she'd been told. Add that to her physical misery and now, in late afternoon, her mood was as foul as the day. The numbness that had started with her hands had slowly spread to the rest of her body. She slapped her legs beneath her cloak, leaving damp handprints on the rough gray wool. The only good thing about this ride was that she was so cold she could no longer feel her aching muscles.

"How are you?" Kane dropped back beside her.

She glared up at him and he laughed. She scowled. Kane seemed in good spirits despite the rain. Even wet, his hat and cloak looked dashing, rather than bedraggled; as she was sure she looked.

"Tell me again when I'll get used to riding," Brenna said. She grimaced at the cold puffs of air her breath made. "And tell me we're almost at the inn."

"Yes, we're not far now, I'm told. Just another half hour or so."

"Thank the gods. I can't wait to be warm and dry. That's if anything I own will be dry after all this rain." She looked up at him through the drizzle. "Did you know we were leaving right in the middle of the rainy season?"

"The rainy season is already past," he said. "This is just one day of rain. We're likely to run into more as we go. You can't have good farmland without it." He gestured to the fields on either side of them.

Brenna thought the crops looked like they'd been doing just fine without today's rain.

"I guess so," she said. "In Kingsreach I never really had to worry. I usually just stayed inside until it stopped." She shrugged. "I don't have that choice now, do I?"

"Just be thankful we don't have to sleep in it," Kane said. "Making camp and trying to get a fire started is hard work when it's wet."

Kane returned to whatever conversation there was amongst the Brothers and Brenna soon fell back into solitary contemplation of her misery.

She only had half an hour to endure. That was it. Then she'd get a warm bath. She could do that. She just needed to distract herself. She concentrated on the old steel around her. This close to her, it took very little effort to reach out to it. But her attempts to glean anything from those who bore the old steel weren't successful. Either she was projecting her own discomfort on the rest of the party or everyone else felt as wretched as she did.

Westley Stobert's laughter drifted back down the line to her. Not everyone was miserable, then. But she couldn't tell his mood from her link to him through the old steel. Maybe she'd never be able to get that kind of information from old steel. In the end, without the energy for anything else, Brenna simply stared down at Blaze's neck and counted the plodding steps. One, two, three, four. And then she'd start over. One, two ... suddenly Blaze stopped.

"We're here," Kane said.

Brenna's head snapped up. They were in a well-kept but muddy yard. A young boy ran from the stables and grabbed the reins of the first horse he saw. Kane swung down off Runner and turned to help her slide of Blaze. Her knees buckled and she felt herself pressed into Kane's body. Despite the chill and their damp cloaks, her body warmed where it rested against his.

"Here, let's get you inside."

"No. I should take care of Blaze." Despite her own discomfort, poor Blaze had it even worse. The only dry spot on the animal was the Brenna shaped one where she'd been sitting.

"No," Kane said. "The inn has a number of stable boys, so Blaze will be in fine hands. Stobert tells me he's well known here and is always generous when his mounts get good care. There's no need to worry. Let's get you inside. I think another hot bath is required."

Brenna nodded. "On one condition," she said. "You have the bath first. I mean it."

Brenna saw Kane as soon as she entered the common room. He was at table in back so she snaked her way through the crowd to him. He smiled when she slid onto the bench beside him.

"I almost feel human," Brenna said.

"Good," Kane said. "I've ordered our meal already- venison stew and bread. I hope you don't mind, but I didn't feel up to eating with Westley and his guards."

"Fine with me," Brenna said. Her shoulders relaxed in relief. "Not that the guards have even said more than two words to me anyway." She wrinkled her nose. "I still don't trust them. When I sense Lord Stobert through old steel sometimes I get an uneasy feeling."

"Really?" Kane said. "Have you had this before?"

"A few times. But it doesn't last long and then I wonder if I felt anything at all."

"He has reservations about the heir being a woman," Kane said. "Maybe you could spend some time with him tomorrow? I think that's all he needs."

"I'll try," Brenna said. It would give her a chance to see if his physical responses matched what she felt through old steel. "I still plan on meeting with Duke Ewart."

"I'll talk to Lord Stobert again," Kane said. "After you've spent some time with him. I wish he had come to the meet in Kingsreach - Uncle Feiren would have convinced him. For two thousand years the Brotherhood has become very good at waiting. Now that it's time to act, some will find it a difficult adjustment. "

"That could be what I'm feeling from him," Brenna said. "His indecision." But what if Lord Stobert never adjusted, what if he never felt comfortable enough to act? What then? She'd do what she always did - she'd make her own decision, her own plans. She was going to meet with Duke Ewart whether Stobert agreed or not.

Their meal arrived and they both concentrated on eating. By the time she'd sopped up the last of the gravy with a piece of dark bread, Brenna could barely keep her eyes open. She left Kane in the common room, trudged up the stairs and went to bed.

Brenna woke up instantly. Gingerly she stretched her legs out. Nothing hurt too badly. She could hear Kane's even breathing from where he lay on the floor beside the bed. As quietly as she could, she sat up, grabbed her shirt and breeches and slipped them on. She had to step over Kane before she could reach her socks and boots, but she tripped over his blanket and stepped into him. A hand snapped out and grabbed her leg. Off balance, she slid to the floor.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Kane shook his head and smiled. His chin was dark with stubble and his eyes were still half closed. He turned onto his side and she leaned into him. Beneath the thin blanket Brenna could feel the warmth of his body against her back. Heat flooded through her and she looked at him from the corner of her eyes. It had been a while since she'd bedded a man. Kane would be ... interesting. And complicated.

"I was going to get us some breakfast," she said.

"Good idea." Kane leaned his head on his hand and looked up at her. "Although I wish you'd been a little quieter about it. What happened to the stealthy thief?"

"She's been subjected to days of torturous riding," she said. "I may never recover." She met his gaze and her smile faltered. The look in his eyes was more than simple attraction. She had to remember that he believed she was the prophesied heir to the throne. Any relationship they developed, whether it was as trail companions, friends, or bedmates, would hold so much meaning for him. Kane had been far too generous and kind to her for her to treat his feelings with no regard.

One hand on his shoulder, she steadied herself as she stood up.

"I'll be back soon." She pulled on her boots, grabbed a purse and slipped out the door.

Over the next three days, Brenna made an effort to talk to Lord Stobert. They were in his lands and he took much delight in telling Brenna details of the farms and villages that they passed. The weather was more co-operative and for long stretches they rode in the hot sun, fields on both sides of the road high with corn, wheat and other crops.

Brenna couldn't sense anything unusual about Stobert or his men when she tried to read them through old steel so perhaps Kane had been right and Stobert had simply needed some time to accept her. He still hadn't committed to having her meet Duke Ewart, and it made her uneasy. If he believed, truly believed, wouldn't he want her to meet the duke?

Brenna did find riding easier. She no longer felt stiff and sore in the mornings and her legs were steady when she dismounted. Inns were frequent and they continued to stop each night, but she no longer required a hot bath to ease her aching muscles. She wondered how much all of this travel cost, but when she asked Kane about it he assured her he had more than enough coin.

Brenna had been nervous all day. It was their last evening before they reached Silverdale and she and Kane were to dine with Stobert. Tomorrow they would enter the city, and although Lord Stobert had assured them he had a plan, he had not yet told them what it was. Tonight, he'd promised, they would find out. Although at this point Brenna was of a mind to simply thank him and make her own way into town. If she didn't like his plan she would leave.

The inn, so close to Silverdale, was more refined than some of the ones they'd stayed at along the way. Stobert had commandeered a private dining room, and when Brenna arrived, she'd found Stobert and Kane already in conversation.

"Brenna," Lord Stobert said. "Come in. Shall I pour you some wine?"

"Please." She took the glass he handed to her and sat down beside Kane.

She and Kane had been painfully polite and distant with each other ever since that morning a few days ago. For her part, Brenna was trying to ignore her increasing attraction to Kane. She supposed he was doing the same. But it was difficult. Some nights she found herself awake, listening to him breathe, and her heart ached. Ever since her mother was killed she'd felt alone. Kane was changing that, making her feel that she wasn't isolated, that she could depend on someone – she could depend on him. But it was because he believed she was something she wasn't - the heir to the prophesy. That was enough betrayal for her to live with. She wouldn't compound it by bedding him. He deserved more from her.

"Are you ready to tell us what you have planned?" Kane asked.

Lord Stobert leaned back in his chair, his hand on the stem of his wine glass.

"I'm afraid we must wait a little while longer," Westley said.

Brenna frowned and reached for him through the old steel. She didn't feel anything. By habit she checked for other old steel nearby. There, a little ways away, was a piece that felt familiar.

"I believe your man has returned," Brenna said. "I think you said his name was Kersey?" It was the same man, the same weapon, she'd felt the night Westley and his men had saved them.

"He is due to meet us here," Westley said. "I've been waiting for him."

"So he was sent to make our arrangements," Kane said.

"Based on some options I gave him, yes."

A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. After a brief conversation a guard Brenna didn't recognize entered. But the old steel sword on his hip was familiar.

"Kersey," Stobert said. "I don't think you've formally met Brenna, the Caller. I believe you know Kane Rowse."

Kersey bowed to her and Brenna dipped her head slightly. Kersey then passed a small leather envelope to Lord Stobert, backed away and took up a position near the door.

Westley opened the envelope and drew out some papers. He scanned them quickly and handed them to her.

"Kersey has arranged for a place for you to stay in Silverdale," he said. "It should be quite safe."

Brenna read the top paper. "We're disguised as a newly married couple visiting elderly relatives," she said. "This is good." This would be the perfect way to see Silverdale. She would be free to explore the city on her own and find out information that hadn't come to them from Lord Stobert. Her earlier nervousness disappeared.

"This could even be fun Kane," she said.

He shook his head. "It could be dangerous," Kane said. "Duke Thorold is not likely to give up just because we're in Silverdale.

He was right, she knew it. But that didn't mean she couldn't have some fun. She'd be careful.

Thorold scanned the message once again before he crumpled it and tossed it into the fire. Barton's note said he'd caught up with the girl and her companions and he was following them to Silverdale. Along with Rowse, there were at least four guards and a noble, Lord Westley Stobert. Thorold knew him. He had an estate in Fallad near the foothills of the Godswall and spent far too much time patrolling his border with Comack. He was annoyingly vigilant about keeping Thorold's horses off his land. A few years ago Lord Stobert had seemed willing to lease him some pasturage, but then he'd tried to take advantage of the situation and charge an exorbitant fee.

Thorold smiled. When Beldyn became king, Lord Stobert would regret his actions.

And it would not be long now. King Mattias' health was failing quickly. Thorold still hadn't been able to get the king to approve his choice of captain, though. That old fool, Feiren Rowse, had put his own candidate forward. As if he would ever allow Kane Rowse's second in command to be named captain.

Right now Barton needed to take care of the girl. She was a nuisance, a loose end, and he wanted her dead.

He looked up at Fridrick, who had waited in silence while he read the note.

"Anything for you to report?"

"Yes, my Lord. At least it seemed wise to inform you." Fridrick kept his eyes on his feet as he took one step forward. "It seems that Acting-Captain Rowse has been seen in conversation with the king's wine steward. There have been at least two sightings that I know about. On one occasion Rowse seemed to hand something to the wine steward."

Thorold leaned forward. "And do you know what it was?"

"Not yet, my Lord, but I will soon enough. At least I'll know as much as the wine steward knows."

"Excellent, Fridrick. Inform me when you have more information. You may go." He smiled as the scholar turned and left. Feiren Rowse was meddling with the king's wine. The old fool had handed himself over to him. He'd rather know exactly what Rowse had been doing, but really, it didn't matter - adding anything into the king's wine without his consent was treason. He'd have the High Bishop obtain Feiren Rowse's confession. And he would watch.

nineteen

Kane hated waiting. It made him nervous. Four days they'd been in Silverdale and still no meeting with Duke Ewart.

He and Brenna were staying in the home of an elderly couple, Kane posing as their visiting great nephew and Brenna as his new bride. The couple had family connections to the Brotherhood, although they were no longer active in the order. Much to Brenna's relief they had not been told that she was the Caller.

The daily messages he received from Westley Stobert assured him a meeting with Ewart would happen soon but Kane was running out of time and patience. If another day went by without a firm meeting date he and Brenna would move on. Her safety came first. Thorold had men out searching for them - they couldn't simply wait in place until they were found.

Brenna was avoiding being alone with him. He went out each morning to pick up a message from Lord Stobert and when he arrived back at the house around noon, Brenna was gone.

She went to library, she said. She scoured the books for new poultices and medicines. Or she found a quiet corner and practiced with old steel. And she was much clearer when she communicated with him through old steel, proof that she was doing as she'd said but she could have worked with old steel here at the house, with him.

In the evening, after they'd dined with their hosts, Brenna would excuse herself early and retire to their room. By the time he followed, she'd be gone, out into the night.

He'd asked her not to go out at night, of course. She'd told him that she would be careful, that she was keeping her skills sharp - it hadn't eased his worries. He hated her being out alone, away from his protection.

Last night he hadn't even pretended to be asleep when she climbed back in the window. He'd been sitting in the chair and she'd practically had to step on him to get into the room. Without a word to him she'd shrugged out of her black clothing and climbed into bed. Eventually he'd stretched out on the floor and fallen asleep. But it hadn't been restful.

Kane felt that he was failing Brenna in every way. He hadn't secured a meeting with Duke Ewart, nor was he able to follow her into the night to keep her safe. And he certainly hadn't gotten her to trust him. No wonder she didn't want to see him. But he missed her.

He ran a hand over his stubbled chin. He'd been letting his beard grow. It helped him blend in when he went to pick up Lord Stobert's message. This was the last time he'd do this, too. Either a meeting date had been set or he and Brenna would leave the city.

He stepped out of the house and into the busy street, headed towards the market area. In his guise of a tradesman from Kingsreach, Kane had learned a lot about the price of wheat and lumber, but not much about the whereabouts of Duke Ewart. If the duke was in town, the tradesmen weren't aware. The nobility did not seem to affect their lives enough for them to notice and Kane could only hope it stayed that way. If Thorold ended up controlling all of Soule, many of these people would suffer greatly. Often it was the folk in the middle who suffered the most. They were the ones who would be taxed until they lost homes and businesses to pay their debts.

Kane quickened his steps as he got closer to his destination. The Blue Boot was the least welcoming tavern in the market area and it was where he'd been meeting Stobert's contact since he'd arrived. Something else that made him uneasy. Better to meet someplace new each day, but the one time he'd tried to send a message, his contact had shaken his head and left it behind. So Kane was left with no choice - show up at the Blue Boot or not make contact.

He took a seat at a table in back and ordered an ale. No doubt Brenna would feel right at home here. The tavern was dark and dingy and reminded him a little of the Crooked Dog, Eryl's headquarters.

Only a few patrons were here at this time of the day. Each one sat alone, desperately nursing their drinks. The barkeep wandered amongst them filling empty glasses. If any orders were given, or coin changed hands, Kane didn't see it.

After half an hour Kane's contact came in and headed slowly towards him.

"This be my regular table, mind if I sit?" He was of medium build with close-cropped black hair under a well-worn felt hat. His clothing was coarse but clean - a patched woolen shirt and dark, threadbare breeches that were tucked into scuffed boots.

Kane nodded and the other man sat down. They'd done this exact same series of actions for the past four days. Kane couldn't tell if any of the other patrons noticed anything, but it troubled him. It was too predictable, too contrived. Someone would notice, eventually.

A short time later, Kane drained his mug and stood up to leave. He transferred a small piece of paper from his hand to his vest pocket and stepped out into the street. A few doors down he ducked into an alley and pulled out the note.

Thank the gods - Lord Stobert had finally arranged the meeting. Kane would meet Stobert's men tomorrow at dusk and then he would be taken to see Duke Ewart.

Kane made his way back to the house. He had to talk to Brenna. The invitation did not include her and she would not be happy. Nor was he, for that matter.

Kane slowed down and then stopped in front of a shop window. A man lounged across from the house. Head down, Kane pretended to eye the goods on display. When he started to saunter back the way he'd come, the man straightened and followed him.

Had they been found? Kane wasn't sure if his follower was friend or foe, but he had to assume the worst. Once he was sure no one was following him he'd find Brenna.

It took an hour and a complicated route through the city but eventually Kane made it to the library. He just hoped Brenna was there, and safe.

Brenna rubbed her eyes. The cheap lamp smoke made them water, but it was all she could find. The head librarian would have provided a better light source, but she'd snuck in today. The librarian liked to talk and Brenna wanted only peace and quiet. She was tired. She'd been out at night, looking for information about Lord Westley Stobert. Everything she'd uncovered painted him as an honourable, loyal man. A horse trader had even told her Stobert had angered Duke Thorold this past winter. It had been days and she'd not been able to read anything negative from Stobert through old steel. Kane trusted him. So why couldn't she?

She picked up a dust covered book and rubbed it with her sleeve. A Compendium of Plants from the Western Forest. She had high hopes for this book - surely the forest at the edge of Soule contained plants and herbs not found anywhere else?

She opened the book to the first page but stopped when she felt the tingle of old steel. Kane was here. She was so attuned to him that she no longer had to consciously search him out, she just knew when he was close. She headed out of the room - he was somewhere ahead and to the left. She turned into a corridor, stopped and then backed up around the corner.

She could hear the creaky voice of the librarian and she stifled a laugh. The librarian had Kane cornered. Brenna peered around the doorway and smiled. The librarian had a grip on Kane's arm and looked like he had no plan to let go. Kane nodded politely, but a muscle in his check tensed. She waved and he nodded slightly. She quickly backed out of view and headed further down the hall. A few minutes later, Kane joined her.

"By Jik, the master librarian can talk," Kane said. "I thought librarian's liked books more than people?"

"I think he's just lonely," Brenna said. She took his arm and steered him into the room she'd been in. "He did the same to me until I started climbing in through the window. This library is not very well used. Nor kept." She batted at a cobweb on a book shelf. "What news?"

"I've just received word of an appointment with Ewart," Kane said. "Tomorrow night." He paused. "The invitation did not include you."

"Mmm," Brenna said. She crossed her arms over her chest. "That's what I expected."

"And you're not angry? I am."

"Do you think I should meet with Duke Ewart?" Brenna asked. Kane nodded and she continued. "So do I. So that's what will happen."

"Agreed," Kane said. "We'll come up with a plan that keeps you safe."

"I have a plan," Brenna said. She'd been thinking about it since they arrived in Silverdale.

"I'm sure you do," Kane said. He crossed his arms over his chest. "But I need to approve it. I was followed earlier. Can you do a quick check for old steel?"

She closed her eyes and looked. She was surrounded by old steel. Kane she saw as a bright glow beside her. The three pieces she kept in her pack - the mortar and pestle and the coronet - pulled at her as they always did. There was Lord Stobert and his faithful guard Kersey. Much further off she could sense Feiren and Dasid, and less clearly, the boys and girls she'd had weapons drill with.

Close, though, there was a lot of unknown old steel. She sifted through it the way she would search through her herbs, identifying a specific note or flavour for each piece before she moved on to the next one. The old steel closest to them had the definite feel of Brothers.

"There are two or three Brothers within the block," Brenna said. "They're not familiar, but the old steel matches the bearers." She widened her search area. There, that was familiar. Yes, that was him.

"Barton's here in the city, but not too close to us. Now that I have him, I'll be able to keep track of him." She still didn't understand why Barton's weapon hadn't responded to her the night of the fight. She opened her eyes and met Kane's blue gaze.

"Barton," he said. "I didn't think he'd give up easily. We need to be even more careful. I need to know where you're going at all times." She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. "And I'll tell you my whereabouts as well. I mean it Brenna. We'll leave the city right after the meeting with Duke Ewart, but until then, I don't want you going out at night alone. There can't possibly be anything so important that we can risk you. Please."

"All right." She didn't like it, didn't like being told what to do, but Kane had already agreed that she should meet with Duke Ewart. She'd have to settle for that.

For the rest of the afternoon, Brenna studied herbal lore in the library. Kane sat at a table beside the door, a book on military tactics open in front of him.

She wasn't sure how much reading he was doing. Every time she lifted her head and happened to glance his way, he looked away as though he'd been staring at her. It was unnerving. She tried to read him through old steel but was left with impressions of fear and hope and a fierce protectiveness.

Finally she put all the books back on the shelves and blew out the lamp. It was time to go.

"I'll meet you outside," she said to Kane. She hitched her pack onto her back and climbed out the window.

A few minutes later Kane rounded the corner. She fell in step with him and they made their silent way back to the house. Brenna didn't sense any unusual old steel along the way, but all night and into the next day she nervously tracked Barton's sword. He never came close to the house, but that didn't mean she felt safe. He hadn't struck her as the type to give up. And she knew Duke Thorold wouldn't, ever.

Brenna barely tasted the food, but she'd eaten her dinner anyway - it would be a long time before they had a chance for another real meal. It was almost time to leave and they didn't plan on coming back to this house. Kane was going to follow the instructions sent to him and meet with Westley Stobert's men - Brenna would follow by tracking them through old steel. Once Kane was with Duke Ewart, Brenna would join them. It was a simple plan, which Kane had approved. Brenna was glad they weren't going to negotiate with Westley Stobert. The man had not wanted her to meet with Duke Ewart from the start and Brenna had no reason to expect that he'd changed his mind. She still wasn't sure why, though.

Hand on her knife she reached through the old steel and checked the surrounding neighbourhood. She could sense Barton in another part of the city. The two Brothers a few streets over must be Kane's escort. A message from the Brotherhood had been passed along by their hosts promising that Runner and Blaze would be saddled and ready by midnight. Their packs had been sent ahead to the stable, all except her small one. As far as the Brotherhood knew, Kane would return here for Brenna before they took the north road out of Silverdale. No one knew they planned to head east to Aruntun.

Brenna fidgeted with the curtain and looked out into the street again. She was ready, dressed in her black thieving clothes. Kane entered the sleeping chamber still dressed as the tradesman.

"It's almost dusk," he said. "Is there any old steel I need to worry about?"

Brenna shook her head. "I can see the Brothers you're meeting. Lord Stobert's farther away, with Jesson and Quint."

Kane nodded and turned to leave. "Remember, keep as close as you can, but stay out of sight. And if you sense Barton near, be very careful. Don't forget that the men with him will only have normal swords. Don't rely only on old steel."

Brenna nodded. "I'll use all my abilities," she promised. She'd eluded guards long before she'd known about old steel. Tonight would be no different.

"Good," Kane said. "It's dark enough now. I'm off. Give me a few minutes head start."

With Kane gone, Brenna's nervousness increased. She put a hand on her knife and followed Kane's progress down the stairs and out of the house. She prayed it wasn't her Seer's abilities causing her unease. She blew out the lamp and looked out the window. It was dark enough that she could barely make out the tree on the corner. Time for her to go.

She hefted her pack onto her back, looked for Kane and noted his progress. She stepped up to crouch in the window and she reached up and hauled herself onto the roof of the house.

She crossed to the edge of the roof and jumped across a narrow gap to the roof of the house next door. From there she stepped onto the sturdy branch of a maple tree and crept to the centre of the tree. She edged around the trunk and out onto a branch that hung out over an alley. She took a few breaths and checked the alley. Good, no sounds or movements from below. She sat down and twisted until she dangled a few feet above the ground, then she dropped and rolled. Still crouched, she scrambled to the shadow of the fence. She sat there for a few minutes and listened to the still quiet night,

She checked Kane's location again - he was already past this alley and headed towards the two Brothers. She checked their position and started to rise - and stopped.

Something was wrong. She reached again for the Brothers. The old steel was there and the Brothers were the same ones she'd felt before, but there was something about them, something she could almost sense through the old steel. Brenna frowned. She prodded at them through her link with their weapons. They were there, but something was wrong. If only she knew what to trust with this magic.

"Kane!" She shouted to him through his sword and was relieved to feel him stop. "It's a trap." She felt him back up a few paces – he was close to her alley now. Brenna sprinted down to the street. Kane was around here, close, she could feel him. She heard the clash of steel on steel and she automatically reached through his sword. And recoiled when the sword she was attuned to bit into flesh. She heard a wet gurgle and then she felt the sword pull out. There was a thud as something heavy fell. She stumbled into the fence before she steadied herself against it. Kane was just around the corner. She called his name, softly. She saw a shadow in the street and then he was there, beside her. His blade was drawn and dark liquid dripped off it.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded and tugged his arm.

"This way, hurry."

She edged deeper into the shadow of the fence and Kane followed, his eyes focused on the opening to the street. Three dim shadows paused at the entrance to their alley.

It was around here somewhere. Ah, here. Brenna toed aside a plank in a fence and eased through. Kane followed. When he was through, she gently moved the board back in place.

Her hand on Kane's arm, she guided him to the narrow space between the two houses. She shrugged out of her pack and held it with one hand as she slid into the narrow opening. It was a tight fit, but eventually they found themselves on another darkened street, a row of houses between them and their pursuers. From there, Brenna took them through backyards and alleys for half an hour before she felt safe enough to stop.

"Barton found us," Kane said and Brenna nodded.

"Some of his men must have," she said. "He's not very close by. I noticed something odd about Stobert's men," Brenna said. "The ones you were to meet. They felt wrong in some way, like they were nervous or conflicted or ... I don't know. It felt as though they meant you harm."

"Apparently they did - you warned me just in time," Kane said. "Thank you. But then you should have left. I told you to keep yourself safe."

"And I did," she said. "And I kept you safe as well."

"Yes," Kane said. "But you took a risk. I'm expendable, you are not. If you hadn't found that loose plank in the fence ..."

"You mean the loose plank I found two days ago?" Brenna hissed at him. "The one I loosened even more in case I needed an escape from that alley?" Did he think she was witless? She'd been doing this a long time. "I know that Barton is out there. I know better than you that Thorold will never stop looking for me. So I planned ahead." And by the gods there was no way she would ever consider Kane expendable.

"Oh," Kane said.

He chuckled. What was so funny? She was furious that he'd lectured her about how to stay safe in a city at night.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm as bad as Westley Stobert and I know better than to underestimate you. Next time you might want to let me know when you've been out creating escape routes."

"Next time you could ask," Brenna said. Her anger would have to wait. "Come on, let's find Stobert."

Stobert's old steel weapons were easy for Brenna to locate - she'd spent enough time on the road trying to read the man through them. She led Kane through dark alleys and shadowed streets as fast as she could, but even so, it was over an hour before they stopped behind some bushes.

The small house was near the road that led north out of the city. A guard was posted at the front door.

Brenna looked for old steel weapons.

"It's Stobert and his men," she whispered. "I recognize their weapons."

Kane put a hand on her arm and pulled her towards a clump of trees.

"We need to be sure," Kane said. "Barton could have captured them."

She nodded and then realized Kane couldn't see her in the dark. She grabbed his hand and pulled him behind her as she circled away from the front door and the guard. An open window spilled lamplight out into the night and Brenna and Kane crept up to it. Soon they were huddled beneath the window in the shadow of the house.

"And what about the girl?" It was Stobert, his voice clear in the still night air. "What happened to her?"

"Dunno. When we checked the house she was gone. She didn't leave by the door, though, we're sure about that. We didn't find her out by the horses neither. One of my men just got back from there."

"Damn," Stobert said. "I told you, Kane Rowse is nothing. It's the girl we want dead." There was the unmistakable slap of a hand against flesh. "And now you've let both of them escape."

"Sorry, my Lord." The reply was more muffled. "Don't know how he knew we was waiting for him."

"Yes, well. I'm sure your master will make you even sorrier," Stobert said. "Duke Thorold doesn't take failure well, does he? Now go. Tell Barton I'll co-operate as much as I can. The Brotherhood did not wait two thousand years to follow a thieving witch. I trust that when the time comes he'll remind his lord that some in Fallad were friends before his son became king."

Even in the shadows Brenna could see the fury in Kane's eyes. He motioned for them to leave and slowly, silently, they backed away from the house.

They found a small park close to the outskirts of town and huddled in some dense bushes. Based on Kane's directions, Brenna thought they were fairly close to the horses and she wanted to at least try to get them. She'd become attached to Blaze, and some of her herbs in the saddlebags were hard to replace.

"By the gods," Kane said. "I never thought Westley Stobert would betray the Brotherhood." His face was tight when he turned to her. "But you did. And I didn't believe you."

"I was never certain," Brenna said. "I find it hard to trust anyone."

"And you were right not to this time."

Brenna hoped the bitterness in his voice wasn't directed at her. She'd lived a life where misplaced trust could mean death. She neither gave it nor received it easily.

"Right now," Kane said. "We can't trust any Brother from Fallad. We don't know how deep the betrayal is."

"Why didn't Stobert just kill me on the road?" Brenna asked. "Why did he bring us safely to Silverdale and then split us up?"

"Maybe he needed the time to make plans with Thorold," Kane said. "And he didn't want me around when they took you. He knows I'll fight to the death." Kane's smile chilled her. "A man with nothing left to lose is an unpredictable and deadly opponent."

Brenna took off her pack and leaned against it. Kane was willing to die for her. She stared at his profile, knowing that in the dark he couldn't see her face. Never before had someone had so much faith in her - and she wasn't what he thought she was. She wasn't the heir to the prophecy. Right now she wished she was, wished she was worthy of his loyalty, worthy of his trust.

She was tired. It was close to midnight and they'd been on the run for most of the evening. She dug into her pack for her water skin and took a sip before she handed it to Kane. As he drank, she reached for old steel.

"I think we're not much more than a mile from the horses," she said. "It looks like there's only one guard. At least only one guard bearing old steel." She had to get out of the habit of assuming all Brothers wore old steel. It wasn't true and it could get them killed.

Kane put a hand on Brenna's arm and motioned for her to stop. The stable was quiet. Light spilled out of the open door and a single guard stood out front. He needed to draw out any others.

Kane straightened up and stepped into the light.

"Meaker," Kane said. "I've come for the horses."

"I heard you got away," Meaker said. "You and the witch."

"You mean the Caller?" Kane asked. Meaker glanced down at his sword, his old steel sword. So the man had doubts.

"She is the Caller," Kane said. "I was there."

"But Lord Stobert says she's not."

"How long has your family been in the Brotherhood?" Kane asked. "A thousand years? Two Thousand?"

"Two," Meaker mumbled. "Right from the start."

"And in those two thousand years do you think anyone ever came across someone who could do this with old steel?" Kane hoped Brenna was listening. He drew his sword. Good. His sword glowed brightly enough to illuminate the growing confusion on Meaker's face.

"Lord Stobert says she's just a witch, like them from Aruntun." Meaker lifted his chin. "How do I know they can't magic old steel?"

"Two thousand years and the Brotherhood have never come across anyone, including an Aruntian witch who could manipulate old steel," Kane said. "If we had, we would have written it down."

Meaker snorted. "You got that right," he said. "We write down what we ate for breakfast."

"Yes," Kane agreed. "We do." Kane held Meaker's gaze until the other man looked away.

"It never did feel right," Meaker said. His shoulders slumped. "I seen what she can do with my own eyes. I won't help you, but I won't get in your way either." Meaker stepped away from the door. "The packs are in the side room with the tackle. I think it best if I head out and see to my family."

It only took a few minutes for them to get the horses saddled and the packs sorted out. Within half an hour Kane led them northward, away from the city. He planned to keep off the main road as much as possible. Better if they could ford the river and keep it between them and the route any pursuers would take. Stobert might not follow them, but Barton would.

"Do you think Stobert even spoke to Duke Ewart about meeting you?" Brenna asked. They'd stopped to refill their water skins and allow the horses to drink.

"At this point, I doubt it," Kane said. "I wouldn't even count on Ewart being in the city." He felt foolish. And he was furious. With Westley Stobert and his men, of course, but with himself as well. He should have tried harder to find out if Ewart was in Silverdale. Such a simple mistake, all because he'd assumed no Brother could refuse the Call.

"Can we trust Duke Ewart?" Brenna asked.

"Yes," Kane said. "At least with the issues regarding the king's council. I'm not sure he'd understand about the Brotherhood and the prophesy."

"Isn't his estate on our way?" Brenna grunted as she heaved herself up onto Blaze.

"Yes, it is," Kane said. He mounted Runner. "It's a couple of hours ride from here."

"And don't you think he'd appreciate a visit from his old sparring partner?"

Kane laughed for the first time all evening. It felt good.

"I don't think he'd forgive me if I didn't stop by," he said. "I spent a summer here when I was fourteen, I should be able to find it without using the road."

twenty

Kane and Brenna sat outside the kitchen door to the ancestral estate of the Duke of Fallad. They'd come around the back to the kitchen - Brenna had assured him someone would be up despite it being an hour until dawn. The baker's helper had opened the door when they knocked. The youth had stared at them bleary eyed and then had gone to get the housekeeper, who in turn had woken up the steward. Kane was sorry they had to disturb so many people, but Brenna assured him the chain of command in the household had to be followed.

The steward had recognized Kane and had gone to rouse his master, but in his haste he'd left them outside the kitchen door.

"Maybe we should have come later," Kane said. He rubbed his temple. "We could have found someplace to rest."

"No," Brenna said. "No one saw us arrive in the dark. We don't want Thorold to know about this visit, remember?"

"Right." That was one of his reasons for asking Lord Stobert to arrange a meeting. He'd thought the man would keep it a secret from Duke Thorold. Turned out he'd kept secrets from Kane and Brenna instead.

The back door opened and the steward poked his head out.

"Begging your pardon, please come in," the steward said. "His Lordship will be down directly. He asks that you wait in his study."

Brenna followed Kane and the steward through the kitchen and down a very long hallway. Brenna counted seven doors before they finally stopped. The steward opened a door and ushered them inside.

A boy with tousled blond hair was lighting the many lamps in the large room. Through three tall windows she could just see the sun edging over the horizon. A massive wooden desk spanned the far end of the room, a chair pushed in behind it. In front of the large fireplace, a stuffed settee and two matching chairs faced each other, a small table in between. The boy, now finished with the lamps, bent down to start a fire.

The steward indicated that they should sit, and Brenna and Kane sat side by side on the settee. Once the fire was lit the boy hurried from the room. He almost bumped into the housekeeper as she entered with a tray. She set the tray down on the table in front of the fire.

"My Lord Duke will join you shortly," the steward said. He followed the housekeeper out and closed the doors behind him.

"This is peaceful," Brenna said. Wearily, she ran a hand through her hair. She was exhausted. Now she had to impress Ewart Wortley, Duke of Fallad, her blood kin. Kane wasn't even sure they could trust him.

She leaned over the table and pulled the tray closer to her. Maybe she'd regain some energy if she ate.

"Kane look," she said. "There's biscuits and heavy cream with blueberries." She transferred a biscuit to one of the small plates and spooned first blueberries then thick cream on it. Carefully, she picked it up and took a bite.

"This is wonderful," she mumbled. Duke Ewart's staff hadn't skimped on their meal. This was probably what the Duke and his family would break their fast with. Kane poured tea into two delicate cups and handed her one. Her plate balanced on her knee, she took a sip.

"So far I like this friend of yours very much," she said.

"I hope that doesn't change now that we're to meet."

Brenna spun towards the voice. A man in a trim white shirt and black breeches closed the door to the hallway and turned to them.

Kane rose and strode over to the door.

"Ewart," Kane said. "It's good to see you. I hope you don't mind the early hour." He slapped his friend's shoulder.

"Not at all," Duke Ewart replied.

Brenna winced when he punched Kane's arm, but Kane barely seemed to notice.

"It's been what, two years since we've seen each other?" Ewart said. "I think I can miss a few hours of sleep after so long. Although I will not forgive you for the gray hairs your arrival has caused. I think I aged ten years when my butler said you were here. And at the kitchen door, at that." Ewart smiled at Brenna and walked towards her, his hand outstretched. "And who is this?"

Brenna stood up shook his hand. He had a good firm grip and she liked the way his blue eyes sparkled when he met her gaze. Other than her mother and Thorold, this was the first blood relative she'd ever met.

"I'm Brenna," she said.

"Well met, Brenna. Kane." The duke's voice was rich with humor. "You seem to have better taste in traveling companions these days."

"I have no complaints," Kane said. "Brenna, meet Ewart Wortley, Duke of Fallad. Ewart, meet Brenna Lightfingers."

"Trewen," she interrupted. "Brenna Trewen."

"Two last names," Duke Ewart said. "You are sounding more mysterious by the moment." He dropped her hand and gestured to the settee. "Please, sit. We need to talk but there's no reason we can't be comfortable."

Brenna and Kane sat back down on the settee while Duke Ewart took one of the chairs opposite. He poured himself a cup of tea and took a biscuit before he settled back and looked at Kane.

"So, my friend," Duke Ewart said. "I can only assume that having you show up on my door so early means all is not well in the kingdom. I received word from Duke Thorold not two days ago that you resigned from the Kingsguard over poor behavior regarding a thief." He sent Brenna a pointed look and she shrugged. "I received another note from your uncle stating somewhat different circumstances. I would like to hear the truth from you, if I may."

"It's true that I did resign," Kane said. "And it's true that Brenna is, was, a thief."

Ewart turned his blue gaze to her and Brenna nodded. She didn't see any disdain in his face, and she liked him for that.

"I believe the future of Soule rests with her," Kane said. "And my uncle agrees with me."

Ewart stared first at Kane and then at Brenna. "If it was anyone else I'd think you'd been knocked on the head once too often." He shook his head slowly. "What do I need to know?"

"Since we left Kingsreach we've been set upon twice," Kane said. "First, by Thorold's men in Comack, then by your own people. We had reason to trust Lord Westley Stobert, but he betrayed us to Duke Thorold. He'd promised to arrange a meeting with you, but it was an ambush. We later overheard him admit he wanted the two of us dead."

Ewart's face darkened. "Stobert's lands are adjacent to Thorold's. His betrayal of you is a betrayal of me. Does he think to align himself with Thorold?"

"Perhaps," Brenna said. "The king is dying and Stobert seems to have made a choice. In one year, two at the most, Thorold will control the throne. It could even be sooner if all Thorold's plans are in place."

"Do you realize what you're saying?" Ewart asked. He set his tea down and leaned back into his chair.

"Brenna says the king has been poisoned," Kane said. "It's been done slowly, over the past several years. We have no proof it's Thorold, but he has certainly gained the most by the king's illness."

"Yes, his son Beldyn is heir - an unfortunate choice for king," Ewart said.

"Unless you happen to be Thorold," Brenna said.

"Thorold will rule Soule," Ewart said. "My father always told me that Fallad needed to remain neutral. He felt the best course was to make no enemies, but I think he was wrong." Ewart sighed and picked up his tea again. "I need to go to Kingsreach."

Kane nodded. "My uncle's role as captain is temporary. The king does still listen to reason, but Thorold has the council in hand."

"Yes, he and that sniveling High Bishop," Ewart said. "And whoever the new captain is. You're right. Fallad has neglected its duty for too long."

"The best way you can help your own people is to be there," Brenna said. "Thorold has been twisting the laws in his own duchy, and I believe he'll do the same in all of Soule when he has the ability. For years he's been indenturing people with no legal grounds and without any real hope of release."

"How do you know this?" Ewart asked.

"He did it to me and my mother," Brenna said.

"That must have been terrible for you," Ewart said, concern in his eyes.

Brenna relaxed. She'd been worried that he'd look down on her because she'd been a servant, but he hadn't. He'd not shown any contempt at her being a thief or an indentured servant. She made a decision.

"There's more," Brenna said. Kane wouldn't like it, but she felt that Duke Ewart needed to know. "I'm related to both you and Thorold. Through Alastair Embrey, Duke Thorold's first born. He was my father."

"Alastair was my cousin," Ewart said. "You're the healer's daughter, aren't you? Always thought you were Thorold's brat - least that's what he always told Father."

"That's what he thought, as well. Only my mother and I knew the truth."

"We thought the worst when we'd heard your mother was dead and you were gone," Ewart said. "Beldyn took it very hard."

Brenna nodded. "I used to let him tag along with me. We'd climb onto the roof and hide from his father." She grinned. "Rain or snow."

"That sounds a little dangerous," Ewart said. "But Thorold often bragged you were his, so I'm not surprised Beldyn wanted to play with his big sister. I'm amazed Thorold would allow it, though." Ewart sipped his tea and regarded her steadily.

"Who says he allowed it?" Brenna said. "There's more that you should know, but it's Kane's story to tell." Kane glared at her and she glared back. "Although I'll tell it if I have to."

"It will take too long," Kane said.

"Then we'll delay our journey a bit," Brenna said. She smiled sweetly at Kane and then looked at Duke Ewart. "Do you want to hear it?"

"I certainly do," Ewart said and smiled. "I'm also intrigued to see my former sparring partner outmaneuvered."

"It's something I'm getting used to," Kane said. He sighed. "Since Brenna insists, here it goes. This story goes back two thousand years. When Soule was new and Wolde sat the throne, he split the land into the three duchies for his three younger children, as his eldest son would inherit the crown."

"A history lesson Kane?" Ewart asked.

"A bit different than you're expecting," Kane said. "When Wolde was well into his old age, Aruntun had a vision that prophesied Soule would falter if any but one of the direct line of kings held the throne. She also Saw that one would come in whom the blood of Wolde would be reunited. That one must hold the throne if Soule is to survive. A secret society called the Brotherhood of the Throne was formed to watch for this one, and to listen for the Call."

"It's true then?" Ewart looked from Kane to Brenna and back to Kane. "When I was small my father used to tell me stories about a secret society waiting for a king. They were stories he'd heard from his father and so on back to the beginning." Ewart looked back at Brenna. "King Mattias' death will break the direct line of kings. That must make Brenna the one reuniting the blood of Wolde's children."

"Yes," Kane said. "The Brotherhood has declared her the one we've been waiting for. She must be protected at all costs."

"And Duke Thorold must not be allowed to rule," Brenna said.

"That I agree with," Ewart said. "I've been worried ever since Beldyn was named heir. I'll leave for Kingsreach as soon as I can. It's past time I sat at the king's council. Can I offer you some shelter for a day or so?"

"Thank you," Brenna said. "But no. We've stayed longer than we should have already."

Mid morning found Brenna and Kane mounted, bellies full and saddlebags replenished, riding away from Duke Ewart's estate. They traveled east towards the Seven Sisters mountain range. They planned to skirt the mountains and enter Aruntun from the north. Cottle Village, where Sabine was from, should be easy to find. Kane had warned her that the area was sparsely populated. The fields that led up to the foothills contained Falladian farms and only a few shepherds lived in the foothills.

Thorold watched with satisfaction as Feiren Rowse, his hands tied behind his back, knelt before the king. The king's wine steward had been easy to break. In just a few hours High Bishop Valden had extracted the details of Rowse's deception from the man. The High Bishop had been truly sorry he'd failed to convert him to the One-God before his death.

Thorold had been surprised that Rowse had been slipping actual poison into the king's wine. Then Fridrick did some research and Thorold had been alarmed. Zarid, the poison Feiren Rowse had used, was a little known antidote for the drug he himself had been giving Mattias for years. No one had accused him, but someone knew. No doubt it was the witch. Another reason why she needed to die.

Thorold passed a critical eye over the gathering. King Mattias looked better than he had in weeks. After just a few days of zarid the king's skin was less yellow and he was able to stand for longer periods of time. He doubted the king even noticed.

King Mattias' head was bowed and he frowned down at Feiren Rowse. Two Kingsguardsmen stood behind the kneeling prisoner. Thorold had expected Kane Rowse's second in command to attend, but the man had disappeared. There had been no sightings of him since Feiren was taken. Thorold narrowed his eyes - once he was through with the old man, Dasid Addems was next.

A scribe sat off to one side, quill scratching furiously as he recorded the charges against Rowse - treason and attempted regicide. As members of the king's Council he and the High Bishop stood to the right of the prisoner. He could feel the High Bishop trembling in anticipation of 'converting' Feiren Rowse. He had no intention of letting Valden kill the man before he found out about his role in the Brotherhood, but after that, he could do what he wanted. Stobert in Fallad was willing to tell what he knew and he had confirmed that Rowse was at the center of it all.

"Feiren Rowse," the king's voice echoed in the almost empty audience chamber, "you are found guilty of both charges laid against you. Have you anything to say?"

Rowse lifted his head. "Whatever I did, I did for the benefit of you and Soule, Your Majesty. That is what I pledged to do and that is what I will continue to do for what remains of my life."

"But how can that be?" Mattias asked. "You've admitted to slipping poison in my wine. Just tell me why?"

"It was not to harm you, Your Majesty, no matter how it looks. It was not to harm you." Feiren's head dropped to his chest.

Thorold smiled and relaxed. He'd feared Rowse would attempt to place blame on him. He'd been prepared to counter any charges against him, of course. Mattias had probably forgotten the source of the tea he drank every evening, but it was best not to introduce any doubts to the king. Thorold frowned. This meant that Feiren Rowse was sacrificing himself to protect the Brotherhood. He might not be as central to the group as Stobert had implied. Unless it meant that even at the highest levels the Brotherhood was prepared to die for their beliefs.

Mattias sighed deeply. "You leave me no choice, old friend. You will have thirty days to make peace with your gods, after which time you will be hanged until dead." King Mattias turned and left the hall, the scratching of the scribe recording his pronouncement the only sound in the room.

Thorold grabbed Valden's arm when the High Bishop started forward. "There will be plenty of time for that," Thorold said. "You have thirty days, after all." He turned to watch the prisoner.

Feiren Rowse stood tall and met his gaze.

"You will not win," Rowse said. Then he smiled.

Thorold kept his anger in check as the prisoner was escorted away. Thirty days was plenty of time. And he'd be there to make sure the High Bishop used every one of those thirty days. Feiren Rowse would regret that comment.

twenty-one

Brenna patted Blaze's neck and sighed. They'd been traveling for nearly two days and crop laden farmland had slowly given way to open pastures. Stone fences lined the fields to keep the sheep from wandering. They'd stayed off the roads and instead had kept to dirt tracks and paths through fields. Always, they headed towards the mountains.

Unlike the jagged peaks of the Godswall, the Seven Sisters mountains were rounded and flowed gently across the horizon. The closer they got to them the more at ease Brenna felt. She had an odd sensation of coming home.

"I think we should start looking for a place to make camp," Kane said.

Brenna nodded. The sun was already low in the sky - this far north the day ended early. And she couldn't complain. She was tired. There were too many odd noises during the night for her to sleep well. Safe sounds, Kane called them - owls hunting, insects chirping - but they kept her awake anyway.

They found a spot for camp and fell into their routine. Kane made a fire and threw some dried meat into the pot of water he'd set to boil while Brenna went in search of extras to add to their stew. A short time later she returned to camp with some wild onions and parsnips. She brushed the dirt from them and cut them up and added them to the now simmering pot. After a quick rummage in her pack she withdrew a bag of herbs and tossed a handful of them into the stew as well.

"Before this I never would have guessed a healer would make a good cook," Kane said. He dumped an armful of firewood onto the already sizeable stack and brushed his hands on his thighs.

"I know a lot about plants," Brenna said. "Where to find them, what season to look for them. That includes which ones are good to eat." She gave the stew a stir and sniffed. "Just because it can be used for healing doesn't mean it tastes bad."

She unpacked their two bowls, ladled stew into them and handed one to Kane.

"When will we be in Aruntun?" Brenna asked. For some reason she felt she'd know when they crossed the border.

"Tomorrow, I think," Kane replied.

Brenna nodded. Then they'd be safe. At least that was how she felt.

After dinner Kane went to find more firewood and Brenna made tea. She had first watch tonight. Kane dumped a load of wood on the pile before he unpacked his bedroll.

"Wake me when you get tired," Kane said.

"I will," Brenna replied. She'd wake him when he'd slept a few hours, and not before. One of them needed to be rested. Kane tossed and turned a few times but soon his breathing slowed and she knew he was asleep.

Brenna cupped her tea and stared into the fire. She heard an owl hoot off in the distance and she shivered. It was just a bird, unlikely to bother them, but she still wasn't used to it. She'd take the drunken singing of tavern goers, even the loud brawls, over this eerie quiet punctuated by the calls of wild animals.

To keep herself occupied, she looked for old steel. She pictured it before her - pinpoints of light spread out across the map of Soule. In the direction of Silverdale, she could sense clusters of old steel and smaller groups scattered across Fallad. In Comack the lights were farther apart, with none in Dryannon, the capital. And then there was Aruntun. She could feel the presence of old steel, or the echo of it, but she wasn't able to truly see it. Try as she might, her view seemed to skip past it.

Kingsreach burned brightly for her. She lingered on it, picking out specific people she'd known. Dasid was outside of town, and there were her drill mates. And where was ... as soon as she thought of Feiren, she heard it - a tortured cry from old steel she'd felt before. Without thinking, she followed the sound back to its source, and moaned.

Thorold watched indifferently as the High Bishop ran the sword along the left ankle of the prisoner. Feiren Rowse had so far proven stronger than expected. Even days without sleep had not weakened him much. So far Valden had only made simple cuts. And to use the man's own weapon was inspired. Especially since the sword was another ancient relic of this Brotherhood.

"Tell me what the Brotherhood of the Throne is planning," Thorold said. He walked two paces and looked down into Rowse's blood-streaked face. "I know you and that nephew of yours are at the center of it. A Brother told me." He smiled at Feiren Rowse's look of doubt. "Yes, one of your precious Botherhood talked to me. I know all about your prophecy and the heir. Tell me where your nephew and my One-God cursed granddaughter are."

When Rowse shook his head Thorold stepped back and nodded to Valden. Even he was chilled by the High Bishop's smile as the sword slid smoothly through the tendon on Rowse's heel. The scream echoed in the room and blood dripped onto the cold stone floor.

Thorold stepped back up to Rowse. "You don't need to be able to walk in order to hang. Tell me about the Brotherhood or I'll have him cut the other one."

"I'll never betray them." Rowse's face was strained and pale with pain but his voice was still firm.

Thorold nodded at Valden who actually licked his lips before he caressed Rowse's right ankle with the now blood-stained sword. A quick flick of his wrist and Rowse screamed again, now completely hamstrung.

"What else does a man not need in order to be hanged?" Thorold asked. "Valden, any thoughts?" He watched as the sword trailed up to Rowse's manhood, covered in a simple loincloth. The tip of the sword nudged the material gently and Rowse turned his head and gritted his teeth.

"No, I think not," Thorold said. "We need something that won't bleed quite so much." The sword continued its way up the man's chest and across his face, leaving a thin line of red where it slid across his mouth. It came to rest on the left ear. Thorold walked around the two - prisoner and torturer. He leaned over the blade and spoke softly into the ear. "Again, not yet. I'm afraid I still require our friend to be able to hear me."

The blade trailed back down the man's chest and along his right arm. It stopped at the smallest finger.

"Excellent choice, High Bishop," Thorold said. "I don't believe the captain requires the use of that when he hangs."

A scream ripped from Rowse's throat as the sword jerked downward. A small piece of flesh and bone dropped to the floor amid a growing pool of blood.

"Bind that," Thorold said. A priest scurried forward and wrapped the stump in white cloth.

"Now Captain Rowse. Unless you want to feel the High Bishop cut off your fingers and toes one at a time, I suggest you tell me what I want to know."

"I will not betray the Brotherhood," Rowse said. His breathing was ragged, but he glared up at Thorold.

Thorold slapped Feiren Rowse's face so hard his head snapped sideways and a tooth landed on the floor.

"I will get you to talk."

Caught up in Feiren's pain and the anguish of the old steel, Brenna wasn't aware of Kane until he was kneeling in front of her.

"Feiren," she whispered. "They have Feiren." He nodded grimly then sat down and pulled her against him.

"He must have been discovered," Kane said. He sighed, a sad final sound. "We knew it was possible. Can you feel it through old steel?"

Yes," Brenna said. "They're using his own sword to hurt him. I can feel him, feel his pain."

"My uncle insisted he be the one to give the remedy. He felt responsible for letting Thorold poison the king during his captaincy."

"It wasn't his fault." Brenna was angry that Feiren would blame himself. "It was Thorold who put the poison into the king." She leaned into Kane. "I saw it," she said softly. "When I said goodbye. Just like with the healer, I saw him dead." She grasped Kane's hand and gripped it hard. She wouldn't, couldn't bring herself to tell him how much pain his uncle was in.

"Is it Thorold?" His voice was soft in the night.

She nodded. "And one other. I don't know who but I can feel your uncle's hatred for Duke Thorold."

"Can ... can you do anything for him?"

"Like what?" She looked up unto his grim face.

"My uncle is a soldier," Kane said. "He would want to die cleanly. Thorold will not let him have that death. Uncle Feiren would not want to betray the Brotherhood." Kane loosened his grip on her arm and looked away. "Ever."

Brenna closed her eyes and reached for Feiren. Her body stiffened at the shock of shared pain. She was dimly aware of Kane beside her, holding her tight. Then she focused all her awareness on his uncle.

"Feiren" she called out. A feeble answer led her deeper, until she could reach him completely. Then she was in his sword, she was his sword, connected to him by the blood that dulled her bright shine.

"Feiren, it's Brenna."

"Oh lass," he moaned, "you're safe, I know you're safe."

"I'm safe," she agreed. "Kane asked me to release you in the only way I can. He asked me to give you a clean death."

"Yes." His reply seemed clearer, as though he took strength from the knowledge of a quick death. "Thorold and Valden can't win. I can't betray the Brotherhood."

Brenna felt herself being moved. A hand gripped her and her steel edge slipped into Feiren's soft flesh. Instinctively she surged from the sword to the flesh, feeling the blood well up as the skin of another finger was cut. She flowed up Feiren's arm, automatically numbing the nerves and halting the pain. She felt his whole body relax with relief.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, yes." Came the reply

Brenna glided to Feiren's heart. It still beat strongly. Gently, she slowed the rhythm until it stopped. She coursed through his body, soothing him. For a brief moment she and Feiren shared his mind before he faded from life. She looked out of Feiren's eyes at his tormentors, detached from anything except her anger. Then she opened his mouth and spoke.

The sword cut into a second finger and then suddenly stopped. Valden jerked on the blade but to no avail. Thorold stepped closer and heard the prisoner's last breath. He half turned to admonish the High Bishop. Then Rowse's eyes opened and he looked directly at him with one green eye and one brown.

"Grandfather." The voice that came from the dead man's lips was high and thin, not at all like Feiren Rowse's. "This death I lay at your feet, along with that of my mother."

And then the life went out of the eyes and once again they were brown. Valden lost his grip on the sword and it slipped and shattered on the stone floor, its many pieces scattered among the blood of its owner.

Thorold backed up, his hands shaking. The High Bishop's face was pale and his lips were bloodless.

"Witch," Thorold spat. That witch. She'd ruined his chance to find out more. He'd teach her to meddle. Wherever she was, he'd find her.

"Witch," Valden repeated. "Rowse was a witch. We need to scour them from Soule. Blasphemers."

Thorold ignored the High Bishop. He only cared about the death of one particular witch. Let Valden start a holy war. It might be useful to let the church run the witches to ground, including the Duchess of Aruntun.

Kane hugged Brenna tight as she sobbed into his shoulder. She finally fell asleep shortly before dawn and he simply held her as she slept. She hadn't told him all of it, he knew. She thought she was saving him, but the truth couldn't be worse than his imagination. She'd said his uncle had welcomed death but her eyes had been haunted.

Uncle Feiren. Kane's chest tightened and gulped in a breath. It didn't make losing him hurt any less, but his uncle had died in service to his king. Even if the king didn't know it. He knew. So did Brenna. He cradled her in his arms as he watched the sun rise above the Seven Sisters.

Kane woke up with a start and looked around their camp. The fire had burned out. The horses were picketed a few feet away and munched on what grass was left within reach. Brenna still slept curled against him. He couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour, but it had been his watch. He could not afford to put them at risk like this.

Gently he slipped out from under Brenna and laid her down. He covered her with his blanket and brushed her hair from her face. She looked exhausted. Her face was pinched and worn even in sleep. He stood and stretched his stiff muscles. Being Captain of the Kingsguard had made him soft. A few hours sitting on the ground and he could barely move. He looked over at Brenna. He'd let her sleep for a while yet.

Kane quickly had the horses saddled and most of their gear packed. He'd made a small fire in order to boil some water and now he took one steaming mug and knelt beside Brenna.

"Brenna, wake up."

She slowly opened her eyes. Kane knew the moment sleep fell away and the realization of what had happened returned to her. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Here's some tea," he said.

"Thank you." Her voice was quiet and she turned her head away from him.

Kane retrieved his own mug and they sipped their tea in silence. When Brenna refused to eat, he silently packed the rest of the gear onto the horses. She'd talk when she was ready, he hoped. Right now he had to get her to safety. They should be able to make it to Aruntun today, but after their late start it would not be until after dark.

Gently Kane helped Brenna mount Blaze and they headed east. Shortly after noon, they stopped at a small mountain stream. Kane dismounted to refill their water skins. Brenna pulled her pack out and rummaged through it.

"I can get you something to eat," Kane said. He handed Brenna's full water skin up to her.

"No thanks," she said. She took the skin and held it against her temple. "This helps though."

"A headache?"

"A bad one. Ever since ..." Brenna's voice trailed off and she hung her head. She pulled something out of her bag. "I'll chew on this. It will help."

"Let me know if I can do anything," he said.

Kane mounted Runner and looked back over their path. The rolling foothills spread out below him. Now that their path was elevated they'd be more visible to any pursuers. He'd try to keep to the valleys. He shaded his eyes and looked east. Yes, they should be able to skirt the main peaks and keep to the foothills the whole day.

Kane had just turned to Brenna when a quick flash made him stop. He squinted in the sunlight and focused on the path behind them. There, he saw it again. There was definitely something metal on the trail behind them.

"Brenna," she turned dull eyes his way, "can you check for old steel?" She looked so weary that he hated to ask her, but he needed to know.

"There's some behind us," she said through clenched teeth. "It's Barton."

"Barton." Kane's heart sank. He'd caught up to them already. "With any luck he hasn't seen us. Can you tell if there's any more old steel?"

She grimaced and then shook her head. "No, there's only his sword."

"Is there any up ahead?" he asked.

Brenna shook her head. "I can't tell. There's none in Fallad, and Aruntun has a kind of fog over it." He grunted in surprise and she looked at him. "I noticed it last night for the first time."

Kane nodded and kneed Runner to a walk. Brenna fell in behind as he led them down and away from the rolling peaks. He headed for a rocky patch he'd seen from above. He couldn't do anything about their muddy prints at the stream, but hopefully they'd lose their trail on these rocks. It would be slow going for them, though.

"Can you keep track of Barton? I need to know if he gains on us." Kane turned in his saddle and frowned. Brenna swayed, her eyes closed. "Brenna." She opened her eyes with a start. "Brenna, you need to stay awake."

"Sorry, but my head aches worse than after the Brotherhood meet." She sat taller. "I'll keep an eye on Barton. Don't worry."

Kane nodded and turned back to the trail, his face grim. He wouldn't let her fall behind. Whatever the cost to him, she had to make it to Aruntun.

Brenna struggled to keep up with Kane. She knew they were traveling slower than he wanted, but at times her head pounded so badly she could barely stay in the saddle. The willow bark she'd chewed had worked a little, but continuously checking for old steel soon brought her head ache back in full force.

Kane was leading them in a looping route, mostly through the wooded areas where the rolling hills and valleys met. Riding straight through the valleys would have been easier, but they would have been too exposed. Brenna didn't mind the extra work spent avoiding tree limbs and rotten stumps. The coolness under the trees gave her some small relief from the throbbing of her head.

She took a quick look for Barton's sword.

"He's still the same distance behind us," Brenna said. She gritted her teeth against the backlash of pain.

Kane nodded and slowed down so she could catch up to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'll be fine. As soon as we reach Aruntun." Despite her headache, the closer she came to Aruntun the more energy she seemed to have. Now, as the sun finally edged towards the hills to the west, she felt that the creeping line of dusk would wash over her and sweep away all the dirt and grime and pain of the last day.

"Let's go then." Kane urged Runner forward and Blaze followed. "It can't be more than a few hours until the border and I doubt that Barton will stop there. We may need to ride all night."

Barton and his men caught them about an hour after the sun had finally set. Brenna had seen his old steel gain on them but she and Kane were already riding as fast as they dared. She drew her knife and held it in front of her. Barton would see the bright glow but they couldn't see the trail without it. Their best chance now was to outrun their pursuers.

Keeping her knife lit and tracking Barton's position at the same time brought Brenna's headache back with a vengeance. It was all she could do to ignore the pain and stay on Blaze.

The trees here were too thick for him to use his sword so Kane drew his knife as he dropped behind Brenna. She kept his knife dark as he rode between her and their pursuers. She heard a sharp grunt and looked back. Kane edged Runner away from another horse and a body slid off it and slumped to the ground. So close. A few paces behind four other horses swerved to avoid the now stopped horse and fallen rider.

Brenna headed for a rocky stream she saw up ahead. She urged Blaze forward and across and they splashed up the other side. She held her knife aloft for Kane to see by. As soon as he was across, she darkened her knife. Kane brought Runner up beside and they rode slowly up the small embankment. They heard the sounds of horses splashing into the water.

Kane heard a dull sound off in the trees. With a quick motion to Brenna he reined in Runner. There, to the left, he heard it again. He grabbed Blaze's reins and was about to kick Runner forward when Brenna spoke.

"Kane, don't move." Her voice was quiet and steady behind him, so he gently dropped Blaze's reins and relaxed. "There are archers in the trees. I'd say about eight of them." She moved up beside him. "It's likely they're Aruntians. And Barton's stopped moving. There must be more Aruntians back near the stream."

He watched her eyes sweep the gloom around them. He followed her gaze and saw the figures crouched behind trees and beside bushes.

"We mean you no harm," Kane said. "We're simple travelers on our way to Aruntun."

"What's you're business in Aruntun?"

Kane was about to ask why one needed specific business in order to travel to a part of Soule, when Brenna placed her hand on his arm.

"We're headed for Cottle village," Brenna said. "Does anyone know that place?"

"Aye, I'm from Cottle." A man dressed in dark brown breaches and shirt stepped forward. "What'ye want in Cottle."

"We're looking for the family of healer Sabine Werrett. We've news of her and she told me her family would make us welcome," Brenna said.

Another man came out of the trees. "Sabine's my sister's daughter. How might ye know her?"

"I met Sabine in Kingsreach." Brenna's voice was gentle. "And I'm afraid I have bad news."

"She's dead, then isn't she?" the man asked. "My sister had a feeling. How'd she die?"

Brenna's smile was sad. "She was at peace at the end. I was with her."

"So, you come all this way to tell me that. I appreciate knowin', but why?"

"She was killed because of me," Brenna said.

Kane tensed when he heard the soft sounds of bows being stretched tight. How many arrows were pointed at them now?

"The church killed her," Brenna said. "It was a mistake. It was me they meant to kill."

Brenna didn't seem to be aware of the danger and Kane wanted to warn her.

"Is that why you have men following you?" This came from a different position. A man rode forward on a large black horse. He stopped in front of Brenna and eyed her warily.

"Neal Ravershaw." Kane grinned as the other man swiveled his head towards him. "It's been some time since we last met."

Neal's eyes narrowed as he looked Kane over. Finally he sighed and motioned to the men behind him. Kane relaxed when they lowered their bows.

"Kane Rowse," Neal said. "We last met the day you were named Captain of the Kingsguard. I didn't expect to find you being chased in the dark in the far reaches of Aruntun." Neal dropped his hand and eyed Brenna again. "You have a very interesting traveling companion."

Kane laughed. For the first time since Brenna had told him about his uncle, he relaxed. "So I've been told. Brenna," he gestured to her, "meet Neal Ravershaw, captain of the Aruntun militia and advisor to Duchess Avery of Aruntun." Neal tipped his head slightly. "Neal, this is Brenna Lightfingers."

"Mistress Lightfingers. You two will need to come with me." Neal motioned for them to follow him.

Silently they traveled through the woods, he, Brenna and Neal, along with four others riding single file along a narrow path. The archers, at least ten that Kane counted, ghosted alongside them. It was almost half an hour before they passed a sentry and entered a small clearing. A fire blazed in front of a large tent. To Kane's surprise a woman stood outside the tent. When they approached she opened the flap and leaned into the tent. A minute later the tent flap opened again and there, briefly silhouetted against the light from within, was the Duchess of Aruntun.

"Captain Rowse." The duchess approached him and waited while he dismounted. "Not anyone I was expecting to see tonight."

Kane bowed low. "Duchess. I feel the same about you. But I might add I'm not unhappy to see you."

Duchess Avery laughed. Kane turned to catch Brenna as she slipped from her saddle. She took two shaky steps towards him and he grasped her, keeping one arm around her shoulders to help steady her. Duchess Avery and Neal Ravershaw were a welcome sight, but that didn't mean he trusted them. Why were they out here? It was a very long way from the Duchess' home in southern Aruntun.

"Yes, I imagine you expected to meet much worse," the duchess said. Neal slipped off his horse and joined her. He bent his silvered head to hers and whispered in her ear.

"Your friends were stopped at the border, as all uninvited guests are." She peered at Brenna in the firelight. "The question is why you weren't? How did you get past the magical barrier?"

The duchess took another step closer. Brenna lifted her head and Duchess Avery's eyes widened in surprise.

"A Seer." Duchess Avery's eyes narrowed. "That explains much. I welcome you to Aruntun." Kane saw the duchess glance briefly to the woman standing outside the tent.

"Please come inside." Duchess Avery gestured to the tent. "We have much to talk about, you and I. Bring Kane with you."

Brenna grabbed her pack from Blaze and headed toward the tent. Kane held the tent flap back and Brenna stepped past him. Kane went to follow her and met the gaze of the woman who stood outside. He stopped. She had two different colored eyes, just like Brenna. He nodded to her then entered the tent and let the flap fall behind him.

A warm glow of lamplight met Brenna as she entered the tent. She was comforted by Kane's solid presence behind her as she followed the duchess towards a set of small three legged chairs that ringed a low table. Brenna sat down in the chair opposite the duchess. Her head still ached but much of the worst pain had subsided as soon as she's crossed into Aruntun. She didn't know what that meant but she welcomed the relief.

Kane seated himself to her left. Outwardly he was relaxed but she could sense his wariness. She dropped her hand to her knife. Kane did not trust this situation.

Neal Ravershaw entered and seated himself at the remaining chair.

"What family are you from, Brenna?" Avery asked.

"I'm not sure I understand you, Duchess." Brenna looked at Kane, who shook his head slightly.

"You're obviously a Seer, so I'm wondering what family of Seers you hail from," Avery said.

"I think there's a mistake," Brenna said. Avery seemed nervous. What did the Duchess of Aruntun have to fear in her own land surrounded by her guards? "I've been told I have Seer's eyes, but I'm not from Aruntun."

"And where was your mother born?"

"She was born in Comack," Brenna replied. "She was in Duke Thorold's employ."

"And your father?"

"He was also in Duke Thorold's household." Brenna wondered what this had to do with anything. She had no intention of telling this woman her life story, duchess or not.

The silence stretched out until finally Avery sighed and turned to Kane. "Please tell Brenna that she can trust me."

"I can't, Duchess," Kane said. "The men who were following us work for Thorold. He is the single most powerful man in Soule." Kane shook his head when the duchess would have interrupted. "He's more powerful than King Mattias. That makes him more powerful than you. Right now we can't be sure you wouldn't betray us in order to save yourself and Aruntun."

"But surely the king will ..."

"The king is being poisoned," Brenna interrupted the duchess. "He doesn't have much time to live."

"How do you know this?" Neal turned sharp eyes on her and Brenna held his gaze.

"Because I'm healer born and trained. My mother was Duke Thorold's healer." Brenna smiled grimly. "I believe Duke Thorold forced her to devise the poison, but of course we have no proof."

"What about your mother?" Neal asked.

"She's dead," Brenna said. "She was killed by Thorold shortly after she gave him the poison."

"Surely there's a way to give the king an antidote?" Avery asked.

"We tried." Kane ran a hand wearily through his hair. "Brenna made one and we left it with my uncle to administer secretly. But he was caught. My Uncle Feiren is dead."

Brenna felt a sob catch in her throat and she looked down. She felt Kane grasp her hand. She squeezed his hand and looked back up at Duchess Avery.

"How did this happen and when?" Neal demanded. "We would have heard."

"It was last night," Brenna whispered, remembering. "I killed him. Thorold and the High Bishop were torturing him, so I killed him. He asked me to. Both Feiren and Kane asked me to." Kane's grip on her hand tightened and she looked up at him through teary eyes. He didn't seem to blame her for his uncles' death, but she blamed herself. She should have been able to do more.

"Kane, I'm very sorry," Avery said. "This is sad news. Feiren Rowse was a very fine man. How did you kill him? And how do you know it was Thorold and Valden?" Avery's face was guarded.

"I don't know how," Brenna said. She couldn't explain her affinity with old steel. They wouldn't believe her anyway. "But I was there. I felt every cut, every bruise, and every drop of Feiren's blood they spilt. I saw Thorold and Valden. I'm sure." Brenna sank back into her chair. She was tired. Couldn't they ask her their questions in the morning? Neal and Kane were both tense and glaring at each other.

"Stop it you two," Brenna said. "I'm dead tired of fighting."

Kane nodded and settled back into his chair. "You're right Brenna. I've had my fill of fighting as well. Besides, we pose no a threat to Aruntun. We're simply looking for refuge."

Avery looked at Kane before her gaze finally rested on Brenna. "Come now, Kane. Of course you're a threat. The former Captain of the Kingsguard, in the company of a Seer who happens to be the most powerful witch I've ever heard of?" Avery's look was serious. "Do you want to know why we're here, along this particular stretch of border?"

"I had wondered," Kane said. "It's quite a coincidence."

"It's not even close to a coincidence," Avery said. "Two weeks ago, my daughter Laurel, who is a Seer, had a vision. She couldn't be specific, which we thought unusual at the time but makes perfect sense now." Avery pinned Brenna with her gaze. "We're not sure why, but one Seer can never clearly See events that pertain to another. It's unusual to have more than two or three Seers alive at any one time and even rarer for them to have visions about one another. Yes, Brenna you are uncommon even in Aruntun.

"The vision showed the general time and place where we had to be," Avery continued. "But my daughter could not determine anything else. And then last night." Avery paused and Brenna saw her shudder slightly. "Those who are trained in the use of magics felt it the most but all of us who are sensitive felt a burst of uncontrolled power. There was so much power we feared the barriers along the border were destroyed."

"Which is exactly what I thought when you two slipped past them," Neal said. "But when the group following you was stopped I knew you were the reason we were out here."

"And now you think I'm a threat," Brenna said. "You say I have all this power. I don't even know how to use it, really." Brenna looked at Kane.

"Brenna's not the threat," Kane said. "But there is a great threat to Soule. I'll tell you the same thing I told Duke Ewart a few days ago. You must go to Kingsreach. Take your rightful place at the king's council table. Thorold has a complete hold on Valden and no doubt the new Captain of the Kingsguard will also be his man. While he's still able to rule, Mattias must have voices of reason to council him."

Avery sat back and sighed. "I must think about your request. Thorold's note said that you resigned in disgrace over a mere thief. I see now that she is not a 'mere' anything." Avery looked at Brenna. "And what about you, Brenna? What is it you want?"

Brenna licked her lips before answering. She and Kane had only discussed finding a safe haven in Aruntun. Hopefully some where they could build support with the Brotherhood. She couldn't very well tell the duchess that without telling her everything else.

"I want to learn," she said. "About magic, about Seeing, about healing. And anything else you want to teach me. I don't want to be a threat to you or the people of Aruntun, and if I'm not trained properly, I always will be." Kane squeezed her hand and she sighed in relief. Duchess Avery smiled and then she knew she'd said just the right thing. And she did want to learn. She promised Kane she'd use all of her abilities. How else was she going to defeat Duke Thorold?

"I think we can arrange that Brenna," Duchess Avery said. "I know just who to put in charge of your training. Kane, I'm assuming you'll go with Brenna?"

Kane nodded and Brenna relaxed. She hadn't been sure he'd come with her. She thought he might need to do something more important, now that his uncle was gone.

Neal showed them where their packs had been placed and Brenna and Kane silently spread their bedrolls. Brenna took her small pack and tucked it under her head. She was comforted by Kane's even breathing close by and the feel of the mortar and pestle and coronet beneath her head. She let her awareness of old steel expand out past Kane's and her possessions, past their own campsite, with its pinpricks of light, past Barton, in the foothills close by, until she saw dots of light scattered all across Soule, this time including Aruntun. Brenna smiled and rolled over. In a few minutes she was asleep.

# Acknowledgement

It's true what first time novelists say – so many people helped me get this book this far.

Caro Soles' 'How to Write a Novel' class at George Brown College was instrumental in helping me plot not just this book, but the entire 3 book series.

Deb, Rick and Soula – we never came up with a name so we always just called it "The Writing Group" – had the patience to wade through all the smiling and nodding my characters did in the very first draft. If there's still too much of that, the fault is mine, not theirs.

Nalo Hopkinson and the Humber School for Writer's helped me refine my style and characters.

My first reader – Heike Zabel – who made me change the ending "because you can't end it like that!" So I did and it works better now, I think. (No one else is going to see that ending so you have to trust me.)

And to friends and family who kept asking how the book was going so I always had to have a good answer. (I gave up was not going to be an acceptable response – so I didn't give up.)

JG Toronto 2012

