The wound was deep and ugly but uncomplicated. He'd lost a lot of blood, and a good deal of it had soaked into his clothing where it would be difficult for her to utilize it. She was tired now, and there wouldn't be enough to heal him if she had to hold him still at the same time.

"What is your cousin's name?" she asked Winnat.

"Agar."

"I am sorry," she said tearfully, "I am sorry, Winnat." She wasn't sure what she was apologizing for, but Agar was not awake for her to apologize to. Winnat looked down at his cousin and she wanted to get up and leave to let them be alone and found that she did not yet have the balance.

He sat next to the bed for a few moments. He was unsure whether she was awake or asleep. Cale said, "You have done great works this day. Rest, child." He left the tent.

Cale addressed the men outside, reporting that both Riham and Agar would live. Spirits rose considerably with that news. He tasked out assignments so that everyone had something to be doing: three men to finish unloading the camels, three to forage for whatever food could be found in the area, and four to help Cale build pyres for their fallen compatriots. Cale had never in his life lost so many men on a single journey, not even when he was young and careless. Twenty-four had left Guildsport; now fifteen remained.

The scrub and deadwood collected would not be sufficient, so Cale ordered that trade goods made primarily of wood be broken down and added to the pyres until they had enough. Profit had ceased to concern Cale. He only prayed that he could bring the survivors through without any more deaths. Then the bodies were carried and laid out. Two were clansmen, so the riteswere all too familiar to Cale. But the third man was the foreign ranger who had accompanied their passengers, Reno, and Cale did not know the customs of his people. So Cale spoke for him as he would any clansman, hoping that the man's spirit would understand.

Then the torches were set to the pyres, and the fires burned well, and the bodies were eaten and the spirits released. Cale did not linger; it would not do for the men to wonder about the state of their leader. It was almost dawn, and Cale ordered his men to bed down for the night. There were enough extra tents now that Raspeth could be left to herself.

It was bright outside, midmorning. Reno was dead. Devona and Malorik were gone. There was no one left to share her tent, and so she was alone. Then she remembered Riham and Agar, and Agar begging Winnat to stop her. Devona had told her that there were people here that did not know of magic and thought atacre just some precious gem, but she hadn't realized how someone who did not know what it was might react. She should have taken the time to explain. She should have spent less of her strength on Riham. She should have ignored him and finished faster and saved him the suffering.

She lurched to her feet. Her head already felt better; she dimly remembered Cale giving her water before she slept, and her eyes only stung slightly when she stepped out of the tent and into the brilliant desert morning. The sky was a pure blue, empty of any relieving clouds, and she shielded her eyes and looked around. There was no one outside, or almost no one; a single figure crouched some distance from the camp, beyond the slowly smoking pyre that she chose not to examine too closely.

Her intent had been to go to Agar and apologize, but now she realized that Agar would be sleeping. Everyone was sleeping but her and the man out on the sand, and she did not want to be alone. It was Cale, and as she approached he was looking at the sand, and she looked where he was looking and saw nothing.

It was a stupid plan and Cale knew it. There would be men assigned to keep watch, not one but two, or possibly more. Cale could follow them forever without being detected, but he would never be able to sneak into their camp to steal back the women.

She would not let him go. She could not. Her cowardice shamed her, but she could not let this man die too, not even to save her only friend.

Women are only taken. Men are killed.

Cale turned to her, and she felt guilty for asking him. He looked older and more worn than he had yesterday, still determined but immeasurably weary.

"We will stay one more night," he said with finality, and Raspeth nodded. She wanted to take his hand or to otherwise reassure him, but she felt now even more than she had before that he would not welcome it, and that it was not her place. She walked back toward the tents and gave him his privacy instead.

She slept fitfully. It was strange sleeping alone after growing used to the others, and when she woke it was still light outside. A few of the men were moving around the camp. She looked for Cale and spotted Winnat instead.

"Thank you."

He savored the temporary numbness, but almost immediately his fear and distrust returned, along with the faintest twinge of guilt. He had never been indebted to anyone before, except perhaps Winnat, but he and Winnat owed each other so many life debts they had stopped counting.

Agar idly ran his finger along the thin white line that stood out agains the tan skin of his abdomen. He was caught between revulsion, gratitude, and fascination.

"See if she will eat with us." he told Winnat, who was tiring of hearing Agar's thoughts on magic and how they could benefit from learning the little princesses secrets. Nevertheless, the other man rose again and circled the fire to reach the girl.

Agar had been in her thoughts often, but she'd found herself at a strange distance from the cousins since the battle with the mercenaries. They gave her odd looks and did not seek to speak to her, and Raspeth felt hurt without knowing why. She went over the events in the tent when she and Agar had spoken and he had called her beautiful, looking for what she might have said or done to alienate him. Perhaps she should not have left; perhaps he had wanted her to stay and was angry because she'd left without saying goodbye. It was confusing and it frightened her a little. Devona was gone, and though Cale appeared to be willing to escort her to Lahkis anyway, she had no friends but the two cousins and their censure hurt.

She had just begun to eat when she saw Winnat get up and walk toward her. His face was not welcoming until he reached her, but then he made his request and smiled and she smiled back and stood up and followed him to where Agar sat. When they were settled she could not keep from flicking her eyes to the wound on Agar's stomach, partially visible through his loosely wrapped clothing.

"I was unaware that your property could not at least choose where she eats. You do her no such courtesy." He kept his voice under control, though his clenched fists betrayed his temper.

Riham had wandered over. His movements were calm, casual, like he didn't want to miss seeing any drama. Cale knew better. Other men from the cook fire were standing now, and a few from around the curve of the tent had edged over to see. Cale knew his men well, knew how to read them. They were not happy with the way this journey had gone, but most of them were still firmly behind him, and those few that weren't would go where the consensus carried them. The Dahro boys would find no support among the crew if they tried anything.

"I was unaware that your property could not at least choose where she eats," said Agar evenly, but she could tell he was angry. "We were just telling her stories about Guildsport," Winnat explained, and she nodded in agreement but Cale was not paying attention to her. He was looking at Agar.

"I saw differently. Raspeth," he said without looking at her, "I will speak to you later. Go and wait by the camels."

Anger and tension was written into every line of Agar's form. Cale was not totally sure what to expect from the boy should he attack. It would be ridiculously stupid to draw a weapon; he could kill Cale if he was fast enough, but he would be cut down by the men immediately after. His best bet would be to try to fight Cale hand to hand, without Winnat's help. If the fight was fair, Cale's men would not interfere. Cale could see how Agar might think he could take this aging caravan leader, past his prime and no great warrior even in his youth. But Cale hoped the boy wasn't stupid enough to try his luck. Cale had only grown harder with years. He had learned to fight in the gutters, and it was in the gutters that Cale fought wherever he was. Agar was shamed enough as it was; if Cale had to lay him out he would never again be useful to the caravan for anything but the most menial supervised tasks. And yet, if he attacked, Cale would have no choice but to win, whatever it took, to maintain the respect of his men. Cale could walk away, and would lose no status with his men for it, for he had nothing to prove here. But Agar, and Winnat to a lesser degree, needed to be resolved one way or another tonight. Leaving the boy's anger to fester would be the worst course of all.

It was clear that Agar, and probably Winnat too, would have to leave the caravan. There were any number of tactics that Cale could use to humiliate the Dahro, but to what end? If the boys were going to be useless, they might as well be out of the way. Cale's first instinct was to do as he had offered, give them camels and send them on their way. But there was danger in trusting the boys. Two camels loaded with only provisions would make much better time across the desert, particularly if they did not stick to the Desert Road. Traveling ahead of the caravan, the boys would have plenty of opportunity to make trouble. However tenuous their claim to being desert clansmen, they looked the part. If they wanted to take revenge on Cale, they would only need to find a band of raiders desperate enough to hear lies about a wealth-laden caravan not far behind them. They could have every half-extinct clan from here to Lahkis waiting for a chance to wipe Cale's men out.

The hate Cale had seen in Agar's eyes would not let him discount the possibility, and so Cale could not risk the lives of his men by letting the Dahro boys go on ahead. But what alternative did he have? Cale was not prepared to kill Agar without stronger provocation. What was left.

The men were watching him. Winnat was watching him. Cale found a compromise that he could live with. "Agar has made his choice," he said. "Anyone else that wishes to leave may join him." Cale looked obviously at Winnat as he said it. He was counting on the boy to follow his cousin regardless, but he wanted to be sure. His plans depended on both boys leaving together. "He will have one camel and enough supplies and toll goods to reach Lahkis safely."

Now was the dangerous part. Cale hoped that he had judged the boys correctly, and that Agar and Winnat would leave together. With one camel between them, they would have to trade off and could only travel as fast as they could walk on foot. They would need twice the provisions, but it would slow them down sufficiently to keep them from overtaking Cale's caravan. But if Winnat stayed, Agar would cover ground much more quickly, making him a danger. The only thing that might protect them from slaughter then would be Winnat's presence, and if Winnat chose to part with his cousin then Agar's familial favor could not be counted upon.

"I will go with him." he said clearly, and nodded slightly to Cale. He then entered the tent to gather his pack.

Entire days went by without words being spoken; the camel's grunts and ruminations were more frequent than human conversation. Agar's thoughts lingered on the caravan initially, but faded into analysis of the girl Raspeth and her powers. She was a fetching little princess, completely innocent, but still managed to wield godlike abilities. The thought of holding such power in his own hands brought a tingling to his flesh. If it was not to be learned, perhaps those who held the magic innately could be possessed. Agar's visions of the possession of Raspeth distracted him for quite a while.