Oathbreaker

had never been abfe to change size or general shape in her illusion spells. Even Tarma's clothing had changed, from her Shin'a'in Ka'lenedral silks, to rough homespun and tattered leather. The only similarity between Tarma and this man was that both carried their swords slung across their backs.

'Bright Havens,' breathed Roald. 'How did you do that?'

Tarma studied her hands and arms, wonder in her un-Tannalike eyes. Tiny scars made a lace-work of white across the hands and as far up the arms as could be seen beneath the homespun sleeves. They were broad, strong hands, and as dissimilar to Tarma's fine-boned, long ones as could be imagined.

Kethry smiled. 'Magic,' she said.

'And how do you keep Char's mages from seeing that magic?' Stephansen asked.

Kethry just smiled a little more. 'What else? More magic. The spell only an Adept can control, the spell that makes magic undetectable and invisible even to the best mage-sight.'

* * *

Tarma was back to looking like herself again, and feeling a good deal happier as a result, as they rode out me next morning. Jadrek had his own horse now, a gentle palfrey that had belonged to Mertis, a sweet-tempered bay gelding with a gait as comfortable as any beast Tarma had ever encountered. He also had some better medicines; more effective and far less dangerous than his old, courtesy of a Valdemaren Healer Roald brought to the lodge himself after Jadrek had had a particularly bad night.

Kethry had augmented the protection of his traveling cloak with another spell she had not been able to cast until she reached Adept level. Jadrek would ride warm now no matter what the weather.

Tarma had turned down Kethry's offer to do the same for her; she wanted no spells on her that might betray her to a magic-sniffing mage if she needed to go scouting. But Roald had managed to round up enough cold- weather gear for all of them to keep them protected even without spellcasting. They were far better prepared this time for their journey as they rode away from the lodge on a clear, sparkling dawn just before Midwinter.

They felt -- and to some extent, acted -- like adolescents on holiday. If the weather turned sour, they simply put up their little tent, Kethry cast a jesto-vath on it, and they whiled away the time talking. When the weather was fair, while they never completely dropped vigilance, they tended to rely mostly on Warrl's senses while they enjoyed the view and the company. Beneath their ease was the knowledge that this 'holiday' would be coming to an end once they broke out of the Comb, and there was a definite edge of 'cherish the moment while you have it' to their cheer.

An ice storm had descended on them, but you'd never have known it inside their little tent. Outside the wind howled -- inside it was as warm as spring sunshine. This was a far cry from the misery of their earlier journey on this same path.

Jadrek was still not capable of sitting cross-legged on the tent floor the way the two women were doing, but they'd given him more than enough room to stretch out, and the bedrolls and packs to use as cushioning and props, and he was reasonably comfortable.

Better than I've been in ages, he thought wonderingly. Better than -- than since I took that fever as a child, and started having trouble with my poor bones afterward. That's been twenty, almost thirty years...

He watched his quest companions through slitted, sleepy eyes, marveling how close he had come to them in the space of a few short weeks. Tarma -- the strong arm, so utterly without a conscience when it comes to certain choices. Brave, Lady bless, braver than anyone I could have imagined. As honor-bound as anyone I know. The outside, so cold -- the inside, so warm, so caring. I'm not surprised, really, that once she and Roald got the measure of each other, they hit it off so well that they began calling each other 'Darksib' and 'Brightsib.' There's a great deal about her that is like the Heralds I've known.

The kyree at Tarma's back sighed, and flicked his tail.

Warrl -- if for no other reason than to have come to know something about his kind, I'd treasure this quest. If all kyree are like him, I don't wonder that they have little to do with humankind. There aren't many around like Tarma, and I can't imagine Warrl mind-mating to anyone that didn't have her sense of honor and her profound compassion.

Kethry was unbraidmg and combing out her amber hair; it caught the light of the jesto-vath on the tent walls and glowed with the warmth of a young sun. Jadrek felt his heart squeeze. Keth, Kethry, Kethryveris -- lady, lady, how is it you make me feel like a stripling again? And I have no hope, no right to feel this way about you. When this mad scheme of ours is over, some stalwart young Warrior will come, and your eyes and heart will kindle, and he'll carry you off. And I'll never see you again. Why should you find a mind attractive enough to put up with a crippled, aging body? I'm half again your age -- why is it that when we're talking you make me feel no age at all? Or every age? How is it that you challenge my mind as well as my heart? How did you make me come alive again?

He stifled a sigh. Enjoy it while it lasts, old man, he told himself, trying not to be too bitter about it. The end is coming all too soon.