Aeolus looked hard at her. "Your sanctions are aimed against the prince and his Conclave, aren't they?" he asked. "The only reason you attended that meeting was to look them over."

Satine didn't answer. His eyes wide, Aeolus took her gently by the shoulders.

"What if the prince is telling the truth?" he asked.

"What if he is? That wouldn't change anything for me."

"Don't you see?" he protested. "If the Conclave isn't responsible, then other forces are-forces that want to tear this nation apart. And if that is the case, then the only hope Eutracia has is Tristan and his wizards!"

"And if Tristan is the cause of all this and I kill him, then who is to say that I haven't done the country a great service, eh?" she shot back. "Either way, I won't stop now!"

"Do you really want the fate of the nation in your hands?" Aeolus protested. "All for the sake of blood money that you will no doubt only use up to try to chase down your father's killer? Tell me, is it really worth all that? Where does your allegiance to yourself end and your duty to your nation begin? I taught you better than this! If Tristan is telling the truth, then he has found a way to put the death of his father behind him for the good of the nation. Can't you do the same?"

Satine looked down at the floor. "I didn't come here to debate you," she said. "I have to do what I have to do. But I must know right now. Are you going to turn me in?"

Aeolus shook his head. "I could never do that," he answered. "How could I betray the closest thing to a child I ever had? That would surely kill me as quickly as though someone plunged a dagger into my heart."

Satine let go a long sigh. "I would like to rest now," she said. She touched the sleeve of the old master's martial uniform. "But I want you to know that I will consider your words," she added softly.

Aeolus smiled. "You always were stubborn. I know I ask a great deal, but I also believe that I am right. Rest now, my child." He reached into a pocket and produced the key to the back door of Satine's room. He placed it on the table.

"In a few hours I will bring you some food and hot tea," he said as he walked to the other door. "In the meantime, you are safe here."

Once he was gone, Satine rose from the table and unpacked her things. She was glad to wash up and put on her usual clothes again. She hung the dual holsters that held her daggers over a bedpost so that they would be within easy reach. Then she removed one of the daggers from its sheath and she slid it beneath her pillow. Only then did she lay her tired body down upon the bed and close her eyes.

As sleep began to overtake her, she recalled what Aeolus had said. The more she considered his words, the more she began to wonder. For the first time since the death of her father, the Gray Fox felt uncertain about her chosen path. As sleep came to her in earnest, a lone tear slowly traced its way down one cheek.

CHAPTER LXVI

On the other side of Tammerland, Jessamay walked quickly along the street. It was still morning and the sun's rays were warm against her back. She wore a dark brown robe with its hood pulled up over her head. Her left hand tingled with the spell she had cast yesterday, the same spell that Faegan had granted Shailiha to hide her endowed blood from others of the craft. She flexed her fingers and smiled.

Pulling her robe closer around her, she carefully scanned the busy street ahead. The person she was following still maintained her quick gait, obviously sure of her destination and in a hurry. It was vital that Jessamay not lose sight of her, for the Conclave might never get another such chance.

Jessamay had taken no pleasure in informing the Conclave of her discovery the previous day. She had certainly not wished to intrude upon Tristan and Celeste's happiness. But her news had been so important that she knew it couldn't wait. Despite how impossible it might seem to the others, she was positive that Sister Vivian was a traitor.

She had first realized it just after returning to Eutracia with Wigg, Tristan, and Celeste. She had been stunned by her sumptuous new surroundings; for this had been the first time she had seen the palace and the Redoubt. There had been many new people to meet. So many, in fact, that in some cases she found herself still trying to match the faces with the names.

But the moment she met Sister Vivian was one she would never forget. After more than three hundred years of being experimented on by Failee, Jessamay had finally been able to employ one of Failee's bizarre gifts: The first time she gazed into Vivian's light blue eyes, she knew that the acolyte's blood signature leaned to the left.

When she told the Conclave, everyone was stunned. When Wigg had called the acolytes home upon the River of Thought, he and Faegan had taken great pains to be sure that each graduate of Fledgling House was who she claimed to be and that none of them had in any way been tainted by the Vagaries. Their blood signatures had been matched to their birth documents in the Hall of Blood Records and also closely examined for preexisting Forestallments and the proper degree of lean to the right. Every woman had passed with flying colors.

Just the same, Jessamay had been adamant about what she had seen in Vivian's eyes. There could simply be no mistake. And so two intriguing questions bubbled to the surface. First, when had Vivian's signature been altered? It must have been at some point after she had been admitted to the Redoubt. And, second, who had accomplished this amazing transformation?

Surely no acolyte possessed the abilities to change the lean of a blood signature. Despite their combined skill and knowledge, even Wigg, Faegan, and Jessamay remained unable to do such a thing. They suspected that the calculations for the spell resided in Failee's grimoire, but so far none of them had had the time to research it. That left only one other person in the world whom they deemed capable of such a thing-the Enseterat himself.

At first the wizards had considered entering Vivian's mind to learn the truth. But that idea was quickly dismissed. Better to follow her discreetly, they realized, than to reveal their suspicions. More might be learned that way-perhaps even things Vivian herself did not yet know.

So now Jessamay followed her through Tammerland, eager to see where the traitorous acolyte would lead her.

Vivian slowed and came to stop at a street corner that faced a roundabout. A fountain danced and burbled in the roundabout's center. For some time the acolyte stood there looking around warily. Finally she walked to the fountain and sat down upon its edge. Several people sat near her, and three children played noisily in the area just to her left.

Jessamay settled down to wait on a bench before a shoemaker's shop, directly across from the fountain. She pulled the sides of her hood closer to her face.

Once the area cleared, Vivian looked around. Then she slipped a hand into the side pocket of her robe and withdrew something. Narrowing her eyes, Jessamay called upon the craft to augment her eyesight. As she waited and watched, the seconds ticked by. Suddenly, there it was.

For the briefest of moments an azure glow escaped from between Vivian's fingers only to vanish as quickly as it appeared. After looking carefully around again, the acolyte opened her hand. What looked like bits of golden grain drifted down into the water. Then the acolyte stood and walked away.

At first Jessamay was in a quandary about what to do. Vivian had obviously just left a message for someone. The device she had employed was called "the reading of the wheat," and Jessamay was well familiar with it. But was Vivian now going off to meet with someone else? Should Jessamay stay here on this bench before the shoemaker's shop, or leave to follow Vivian?