wait for our execution!'
Guerrand frowned. 'Don't be melodramatic. The council isn't going to kill us.'
She crossed her arms and regarded him wryly. 'You think Belize is going to let either of us live after we broke into his villa?'
Guerrand looked alarmed. 'After what we told him about Belize, Justarius wouldn't let him kill us.'
'That's just wishful thinking, Rand,' she said, wagging a finger. 'You're not that naive. Is Justarius going to follow us around and protect us after we're expelled from the order and no longer his apprentices?'
Guerrand flopped onto the cot, an arm over his eyes. Gods, I'm sorry I got you into this. I should have listened to Justarius and never told you about my problems.'
'I'm not sorry,' she said kindly. 'You didn't kidnap me. I never do anything I don't want to do.' Esme set her chin. 'Which is why I'm not leaving the order without a fight.'
'What do you have in mind?' he asked, sitting up.
She seized his hands in both of hers, eyes pleading. 'Let's go back to Belize's lab right now. We could get those spellbooks before he realizes we're on to him and destroys the evidence. Justarius will be able to read the spell language and have the proof he needs to persuade Par-Salian and LaDonna of Belize's guilt. Then Belize will be the one expelled from the Order of Red Robes, not us.'
Guerrand's brow creased. 'I don't see how Belize's guilt or innocence will change the fact that we broke into his villa.'
Esme dropped his hands. 'Of course it will!' she snapped, her frustration mounting. 'In the first place, we wouldn't have gone there if he weren't trying to kill you-'
'You sound awfully sure about his guilt in that.'
'Aren't you?'
He gave a nod.
Esme looked smug. 'In the second place,' she continued, 'if Belize is expelled before the Council of Three discusses our situation, then we have nothing to fear. Justarius will undoubtedly take his place on the council, and Par-Salian will vote with him. That's two votes out of three, which is all we need!' Warming quickly to the idea, Esme could scarcely contain her excitement.
'It would be like playing double or nothing in a game of bones,' said Guerrand, shaking his head. 'It's just too risky, and not at all like the level-headed Esme I know.'
'What's so wrong about taking charge of your life?' she demanded.
'Until recently, I would have said 'nothing.' Now I'm not so sure.' Guerrand's dark eyes were focused on a faraway place. 'I've lived most of my life doing what others wanted, and the only one I hurt was myself. But since I left Castle DiThon to study magic, it seems I've done nothing
Guerrand buried his head in his hands as the list of his transgressions mounted. 'Last, but not least, it's my fault that we both stand to be expelled.' He gave Esme a dark, bitter stare. 'You tell me what good has come of indulging my selfish ambitions?'
Esme sat next to him and squeezed his hand. 'I know it's difficult now to think of anything good, but not long ago you said you'd never been happier.'
He snatched his hand back. 'That was before everything went wrong!'
Esme moved away to stare out her small window. 'I know what it's like to have everything go wrong.' She said nothing more for many moments. Guerrand just waited.
'It pains me even now to think of those days, when I thought it important to prove that a mere girl could follow in the great Melar's footsteps.' Esme gave a sad, humorless smile.
She looked away from the window, at Guerrand. 'My father had magical ambitions only for my brothers. Each, in his turn, rejected magic, afraid to tell Father that he had caused them to hate, not love, it. My father disowned them, leaving them without money or connections or training. No one would even speak to them on the streets of Fangoth for fear of suffering a wizard's wrath.'
Esme brushed the bangs from her eyes. 'Left without sons, my father's eyes at last turned to me. I was thrilled by the attention and studied hard to satisfy him.' She sighed deeply. 'It wasn't long before I understood why my brothers had all fled. The great Melar was never satisfied.'
Esme moved to stare silently out the window again. 'The difference between my brothers and me was that I stayed with Father because I had grown to love magic. To impress him, or escape him-I don't know which-I suggested I was ready to declare an alignment to properly begin training for the Test. 'You're a girl!' he'd thundered. 'You'll be fortunate if you're ever ready to take the Test.' '
A tear rolled down Esme's cheek, and she dashed it away. 'I knew that he was just afraid to lose control of me. What he didn't know was that he already had. I slipped away that night and traveled to Wayreth. I never sent word.' Her thin shoulders lifted in a shrug. 'He had ways of finding me if he cared to know where I went.'
Esme fiercely wiped away the last of her tears. 'So, you see, if I'm expelled, I've nowhere to go. I can't return to Fangoth. My father would know I've failed, as he'd predicted.' She pounded a fist on the sill. 'I couldn't abide that, Rand!'
'You wouldn't have to go home,' Guerrand said, standing close behind her. His arms went about her shoulders, and she let him pull her back against his chest. 'We could start again someplace else. Together.'
'I would always know the truth,' she whispered so softly he couldn't be sure he heard her. A huge, shuddering sigh racked her body, as if she were resigning herself to her fate. She turned suddenly in Guerrand's embrace, gave a trembling smile, and pressed tear-streaked lips to his cheek. 'Thank you.'
His eyes, so near her own, went wide. 'For what?'
'For… saying that,' Esme said simply. She stirred in the embrace, and Guerrand reluctantly let her go. Grimacing, she lowered herself gingerly onto her cot, dragging her left leg up to rest. 'Justarius's elixir seems to be wearing off. I'd ask him for more, but he's likely left for Wayreth, and I hate to ask Denbigh. Do you have any more of those herbs that helped me in the lab?'
Guerrand knelt by her solicitously. 'You took all I had, but there are more in my chamber.' He jumped to his feet. 'It'll take me a few moments to mix them.'
Esme looked at him sweetly. 'Would you mind?'
Guerrand hastened to the door, happy to help ease her suffering. 'I'll be back before you know it,' he said. She smiled her appreciation as he disappeared into the antechamber.
Guerrand dashed through the formal dining area that bridged their rooms. It took him ten minutes to collect and crush a sufficient amount of dried peppermint and meadowsweet and steep it in oil of cloves.
Vial in hand, Guerrand dashed toward the door. On impulse, he checked his appearance in his looking glass, then wished he hadn't. He looked like he'd been dragged through a knothole, but he hadn't time even to change. Esme was in pain and waiting for his herbs.
Slicking a moistened hand over his mop of dark hair, Guerrand hastened back through the dining room. He forced his steps and breathing to slow in the antechamber. A sense of propriety suggested he knock at the door to her sleeping chamber. There was no answer. He waited and knocked again. When still there was no response, he poked his head through the curtain that hung in the doorway.
'Esme?' he whispered, wondering if she had fallen asleep after the day's travails. What he found in the sleeping chamber nearly made him drop the vial he carried.
'Zagarus!'
The familiar was strutting back and forth on Esme's cot. Guerrand saw his own pack at the bird's feet, the flap open. The young woman herself was nowhere to be seen.
'Where's Esme?' the apprentice demanded, his fingers growing cold about the vial of herbs when he saw the fragment of mirror on the chest by the cot.
