She nodded. The adept dismissed his captain with aflick of one hand.
When they were alone, Rhendish leaned forwardconfidingly. “You don’t need to take the dagger back to the forest,if you don’t wish to.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Her words came out sharper than she intended.Rhendish lifted both hands in a placating gesture.
“The captain told me certain other things thatpainted a rather ominous picture.”
“Such as?”
“There were no weapons in the glen except for asingle long sword. Of course,” he said, “it is possible that anyother weapons were taken as plunder, as was the dagger you seek.But none of the elves in the glen wore either belt or baldric. Thebodies of a few armed elves were found in the forest nearby, butnone in the clearing. Since it’s obvious that the elves didn’tgather for battle or hunting, I assume the raiders interrupted acelebration or ritual of some sort.”
All of these things were undoubtedly true. “So?”
“Except for your sister, all of the elves weredressed in dark blue. But my men found a single crimson robe. Thepresence of a blood-red robe and a single sword strikes me assomewhat. . suggestive.”
“You’ve concluded the gathering was to be a trialfollowed by an execution.”
He nodded. “And after the trial was interrupted, anelf in garb befitting a queen or a priestess demanded that youpresent yourself and a ceremonial dagger to your surviving clan.Forgive me if I presume, but it sounds very much like sentence wasalready passed-in your sister’s mind, if none other.”
A sound like rushing waters closed over Honor’s head.As much as she wanted to refute the adept’s words, she could not becertain that he was wrong. There was much about that night that waslost to memory. It might have been as he said.
“So when I say that you need not return to theforest, I’m offering you an alternative. You could stay in Sevrin.Volgo has faced elven swords before. He’s very eager to add one tohis company.”
“Not every elf is a warrior.”
Rhendish took her sword hand and turned it up,displaying the row of nearly bone-deep calluses across the top ofher palm and the scar along the pad of her thumb.
His eyes narrowed and he pushed up her sleeve. “Youremoved the bracers.”
“They were uncomfortable.”
“To you or to one of the Fox’s band of thieves?” heasked slyly.
She kept her gaze on his and her face impassive.“Obviously you’ve never worn armor of any kind.”
“But the scars. .”
She glanced down at her forearm. Pale silver linesran the length of her arm, crisscrossing older scars she’d won inbattle. None of the marks were unsightly. Elves healed quickly andvalued signs of valor.
“What about them?”
He shook his head in astonishment. “Most women of myacquaintance-and most men, for that matter-would consider suchmarks disfiguring.”
“You don’t know many warriors, then.”
“All the more reason for me to secure your services.I promise you, this arrangement would suit us both,” he saidearnestly. “Whatever you sought to achieve in the forest is lost.With me, you can gain wealth, a position of command, whatever youdesire.”
“What if my desire is to return to my people?”
“Only to die over some failed plot or unrealizedambition?” He shook his head. “You might think honor requires thisof you, but isn’t there greater honor to be found in keeping yourpeople safe and at peace? I’m offering you an alliance that puts inyour hands all the resources necessary to protect the forest fromthose who would despoil it.
“And who knows?” He turned his hands palms up andspread them out wide in the manner of one presenting vastpossibilities. “In time, you might achieve whatever it was thatbrought you to trial.”
“Or prove myself innocent.”
“Or that,” he said in a bland tone that contradictedhis words.
Honor studied him for any sign of duplicity. To allappearances, he sincerely believed her a traitor who might be wonto his cause. Why, she could not begin to fathom.
“I will think on it,” she said. “May I go?”
He swept one hand toward the door in a graceful arc.Honor rose, grateful to find her body back under her command.
Somehow she found her way through the walls of booksand out onto the street. She walked for a long time, playing thehuman’s words over and over in her mind.
He could be right. It was possible. If for somereason Asteria thought her capable of treachery, the Thorn wouldconfirm her suspicions.
On the other hand, it was possible that someone hadaccused Honor of wrongdoing, and Asteria knew that only theceremonial dagger would prove her innocence beyond doubt.
The more Honor thought about this, the more likely itseemed.
There was, of course, one other possibility:
Rhendish was lying to her because he wanted the Thornfor himself. What better way to learn of its power than placing itin the hands of an elf he so obviously controlled?
And if he was lying about this, what else might he bekeeping from her?
She turned off the street and walled through the archleading into a city park, one of the small green spaces that dottedthe city. Perhaps standing under the shade of these trees wouldlend her a moment of peace and clarity.
The tumult of her thoughts began to wane as shewalked along the paths. A lone songbird called from a butternuttree. She stopped and whistled back the little fragment of melody.The bird flitted down to a lower branch and hopped closer, itslittle head tipped inquisitively to one side.
She held out one hand and repeated the bird’s call.Tiny black eyes regarded her as if taking her measure. Honor calledagain. The bird leaped into the air and winged off toward the farend of the park.
Honor stood in stunned silence. No forest bird hadever fled from her before.
“Have you city birds forgotten the elves?” she saidsoftly. “Or has Rhendish changed me beyond recognition?”
She headed toward a small man-made pond, halfwondering if the reflection in it would be familiar. A stand ofmeadow flowers near the pond caught her eye. She moved over for acloser look.
Most of the flowers were yellow and blue blossomscommon to the northland meadows. A pang of remorse struck Honor asshe remembered the sprite Rhendish had forced her to kill. Sheglanced down at the palm of her sword hand, half expecting to seeit stained with gold and blue dust from tiny crushed wings.
Honor pushed this thought aside. Some instinct haddrawn her to the meadow flowers. She closed her eyes and stilledher mind.
When she opened her eyes, her gaze fell upon a patchof wild carrots. The large, lacy white flowers swayed on delicatestalks longer than Honor’s arm.
A light began to dawn in the back of Honor’s mind.She didn’t dare hope that the idea taking shape would gain her herfreedom, but it might enable her to do her duty.
She stooped and snapped off several of the flowersnear the base of the stem. Bouquet in hand, she headed toward theFox Den, and the fey-touched madman who might become her mostvaluable ally.
Fox sat on the edge of Avidan’s worktable, eyeing avase of meadow flowers with a mixture of curiosity and concern.That the alchemist would keep a bouquet of wild carrot blossoms inhis workroom was strange enough. His motivation for keeping them inblood red liquid was something Fox didn’t care to contemplate.Whatever the reason, the color had worked its way up the narrowstems, dying the lacy white blossoms a deep shade of rose.
The alchemist sprinkled a handful of green crystalsinto a bowl of water and attacked them with a whisk. Crystals brokeapart, sending blood-red streaks swirling through the water.
Fox was beginning to sense a disturbing theme.
“Should I be worried about that concoction?”
