When Rowan did finally arrive, he did so in the company of Chofya, Kalyi, the archminister, and the brothers Renbrere. The Solkarans said a brief farewell, as did Rowan, though awkwardly. Yaella found it difficult to believe that he was but a few years younger than Numar, so great was the difference between her duke and this refined man who would lead the kingdom.

Within just a few moments, Rowan had climbed onto his mount and was leading the company of Mertesse out of Castle Solkara. As she had promised, Yaella rode at the rear of the company, expecting to see Shurik awaiting them just beyond the castle walls. Fortunately, he understood the duke even better than she. Rather than waiting for them in the open, where Rowan and others watching the duke’s departure might spot him, he remained concealed until he saw Yaella. He caught up to the riders of Mertesse just as they reached the city marketplace, pulling abreast of Yaella without fanfare.

“I take it you’re riding back here so that your duke doesn’t have to be near me,” he said, smiling thinly, his voice low.

She would have liked to deny it, to soften the blow. But she wouldn’t have fooled him, and he probably was just as happy to ride with her behind the others.

“That’s about right.”

“Was he angry with me for coming?”

“Very. But I told him that your passion for me had clouded your mind.”

Shunk glanced at her, grinning. “Did you really?”

“I might have said ‘affections’ rather than ’passion,‘ but otherwise, yes, that’s what I said.”

“And what did he have to say?”

She smiled. “Very little.”

“Well, that must have been a welcome change.”

Yaella laughed, drawing scowls from the soldiers riding a few fourspans ahead of her.

The company reached the north city gate and passed through, the Solkaran guards there raising their swords in honor of the duke.

When they were through the gate, and on the road running alongside the river, Shurik asked, “So has he demanded that I leave the castle?”

“No. I think he might have had it been his decision to grant you asylum. But because his father promised to protect you, he feels compelled to honor that pledge.” She looked away, following the flight of a raven that soared overhead. “Would it matter if he had made you leave? I seem to remember you telling me when you first came to Solkara, that our… friend has instructed you to go elsewhere.”

“Our friend told me to find Grinsa,” Shurik said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Since then, Grinsa has found me.”

Yaella faced him once more. He was staring straight ahead, his expression bleak and his jaw tightening. He had told her briefly of his encounter with the gleaner, but with his visits to the castle so short and secretive, they had yet to speak of it at length. She knew that Lord Tavis of Curgh had been with the gleaner, and that they had escaped through the south gate of the city wall, but that was all.

“You don’t have to tell our friend that,” she said softly, watching the soldiers riding in front of them for some sign that they could hear her. “Simply tell him that you found Grinsa, just as he asked.”

“It’s not that easy,” Shurik said. “I have no idea where he’s gone. Finding him means nothing.”

“Surely he didn’t think you could keep Grinsa here against his will, not if this man really is what we suspect.”

Shurik looked over at her. “He is that. He used mists and winds to escape the guards, and he shattered their blades. He may even have whispered to my mount, trying to make the beast throw me. This from a man who claimed to be a gleaner and nothing more. He must be a Weaver.”

“All the more reason for our friend to forgive you. You couldn’t hope to stop him.”

“I shouldn’t have let him see me at all. That’s what he’ll say. Grinsa escaped because I feared for my life and so called for the Solkaran guards.” He shook his head, a haunted look in his pale eyes. “I’ve failed him again. Last time he almost killed me. He won’t hesitate this time.”

Yaella felt herself begin to tremble. Just after the failed siege in Kentigern, when Shurik came to Mertesse, he dreamed of the Weaver. She and Shurik were in her bed at the time, and she awoke to find him thrashing wildly, clawing at his eyes as if he were in agony. She had been unable to wake him, and so had just sat beside him, helpless and horrified as he endured the Weaver’s wrath.

“You said yourself that he needs you,” she said, trying to convince them both. “You told me that he’s finally realized how valuable you are. You’re still the one person in the… among us who knows what this man is and can recognize him.”

“Actually, I doubt that. I know that our friend turned to me, but I can’t imagine I’m the only one who knows Grinsa. If he wishes to kill me, there’s really nothing to stop him.”

“What if you can find Grinsa again? I want you to come back with me to Mertesse, but maybe you’d be better off searching for the gleaner. If you can find him, our friend will never need to know what happened here.”

“I already know where Grinsa’s going to be,” Shurik said. “He’ll be coming to Mertesse. He has to now. I recognized him, and I know what he did to escape. I know that he’s a Weaver, and he must realize that. He has no choice but to kill me.”

“Then don’t come back with me.”

“It doesn’t matter!” he said, his voice rising. The soldiers glanced back at them once more. “It doesn’t matter,” Shurik repeated, more quietly this time. “Don’t you see, Yaella? If one of them doesn’t kill me the other one will. Either our friend will punish me for failing, or Grinsa will kill me to guard his secret. Either way I’m dead. For all I know, there are only two Weavers in all the Forelands, and I’ve managed to make enemies of both of them.”

She couldn’t think of anything to say. If Shurik was right, there was no place he could hide. Not even the walls of Mertesse could protect him from men who walked in his dreams.

“I shouldn’t return to Mertesse,” he said, the words so soft that she had to lean closer in her saddle to hear him. “I should go as far from you as possible. Just because I’m going to die doesn’t mean you have to as well.”

Yaella shook her head. “I think you’re wrong. You don’t know that our friend intends to kill you, and in spite of everything, you can’t be certain that Grinsa is a Weaver. You’re safest in the castle. It wilkbe hardest for Grinsa to reach you there. Our friend can find you anywhere, but not the gleaner.”

“What about you?”

“Grinsa doesn’t know anything about me, and the other can’t afford to rid himself of both of us. Don’t worry about me. It’s most important that we keep you safe, and we can do that best in Mertesse.” She gave a grim smile. “I’m Qirsi, just like you are. We may not be Weavers, but perhaps together we can keep each other safe.”

She reached out her hand and he took it for a moment, squeezing it gently and returning her smile. A moment later, though, he let her hand drop, his expression turning grave again.

“I don’t know how this happened, Yaella. These men are leading us all, Qirsi and Eandi alike, toward a war unlike any ever seen in the Forelands. A war between Weavers. And somehow I’ve managed to put myself between them.”