whose word wasn't tested. She's a liar and a traitor! She's the only one it could be! The only one!'
No, Twilight, she's not, Liet thought suddenly. She's the only one except-
'Except yourself, filliken,' Davoren said. Liet glared and the warlock receded as before, but he kept a hand on the scepter at his waist.
A trifle unnerved but more worried for Twilight, Liet turned back only to see that the damage had been done. Twilight had gone paler than usual and her lip trembled, fighting against a cruel thought-a grave doubt. Liet felt his heart clench in his chest, torn between love and not a little fear that maybe, just maybe, the warlock was right.
Perhaps she saw it in Liet's eyes, or perhaps she thought the same. Her shoulders slumped and all emotion vanished from her face. She appraised Liet more as a dull blade than a companion, or even a living thing, and his stomach knotted.
'Very well,' she said slowly. 'The halfling may indeed be innocent, but-'
'Thank you, Mistress!' Slip threw herself down and kissed Twilight's ragged boots. 'Thank-'
Twilight shoved the halfling away with a foot, eyeing her. 'But I won't trust her.'
'I'll watch her,' Liet volunteered.
'No.' Twilight shook her head.
'I,' Gargan rumbled, drawing gazes from the other four. 'I watch.'
The silence lasted a long breath before Twilight finally nodded. 'Very well,' she said. 'But you will watch her close, blade to hand.'
'Blade to hand,' Gargan repeated.
She turned away, casting Liet an angry glare, and slipped into the smithy. That gaze both thanked and warned him.
Unable to stand it, he looked away and thought he saw another of those black hands-with the eye in its palm-reaching out of a wall opposite the smithy. When he looked hard, it was gone.
Liet suppressed a chill.
The length of a candle later, Twilight sat naked, alone, and crying.
They had moved from the Forge into a larger complex, nearer the center of the city. With Twilight's talents at stealth leading them, they had evaded the bees who came to investigate the shouts. This new building-a mansion, by comparison-might well have belonged to Nega himself, the high arcanist. Twilight didn't really care. It may as well have been hers now. Its wards and defenses had failed (clearly not the mythallar's priorities) and possession of the manse, as in all things, passed to the strong and alive.
Twilight had found an ancient bedchamber for herself-complete with an eerie floating bed of withered velvet, powered by the mythallar. She had stripped off her worn, ochre-stained garments, feeling filthy in them, and flung herself on the blankets, daring them to crack and disintegrate. They had not, and there she remained.
Though the room was far from the others, she did not mind. In fact, it suited her, for here she could scream and curse in privacy, without any of them thinking her mad.
Not that she did so. The day was more one for weeping than for expressions of fury.
Her tears had formed a damp spot on the bed cover nearly the size of a buckler when the door opened of its own accord-magic, of course. She wondered what manner of monster had come to slay her. Fiendish lizards, perhaps, or one of the bees. Maybe even the troll, though she imagined she would have smelled Tlork's approach. Perhaps even whatever beast had attacked her in the night, unless that had been a nightmare. She didn't know-she didn't know anything anymore.
' 'Light?' came a soft, hurt voice.
A sigh. It was far worse than any of the possibilities she had considered.
'Why do you frown, love?' Liet stepped forward, undeterred by her discontent-yet another aspect of him she loved and loathed. 'It makes you too pretty.'
She wouldn't take the bait. Twilight just looked away. He stepped closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed. She let him disrobe, stripping to his smallclothes, and his shirt, of course. He reached to embrace her.
'Surely this incident has told you-'
Twilight shoved him and he tumbled out of the free-floating bed. Liet landed on his bottom with an unceremonious thump. He looked so adorable-and pounceable-but she ignored that observation.
'There are three possibilities,' said Twilight, as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. 'One, that it is Slip.'
'That's out,' said Liet. He rose, winced, and dusted himself off. The stone must have been cold under his bare feet. Twilight couldn't say she objected to the view, and for that reason she cursed him again.
'Two,' she continued. 'One among us can defeat her spell and my sense.'
'Certainly not,' Liet said. 'No one can tell lies from truths better than you, love.'
Twilight didn't bother to correct him. 'And the third…'
'That there is no spy,' the youth said.
Twilight bit her lip, then her eyes narrowed. 'Have I been acting strangely of late?'
Liet gaped. 'You can't be serious,' he said. His surprise was a lie.
'It could be me,' said Twilight. Her voice came out calm, a lie to the turmoil within. 'How long was I unconscious without the Shroud? Any of my foes could have done this. I could be acting under magical compulsion-a spell I'm not even-'
Liet caught the shadowdancer by the shoulders and shook her. 'Nonsense!'
No one did that to her. No one.
She formed a rebuke, but he laid two fingers across her lips. 'This has been hard on us all-you especially, as our leader.'
With effort, Twilight calmed herself. She'd hurt him without steel. 'I have seen you lie once, well enough to deceive me.'
Liet grinned. 'I've watched you with open eyes and ears.' He climbed onto the bed on hands and knees, aiming for her lips. 'I lie in your bed. I don't lie in it.'
'I'm no stranger to enemies lying to me,' she said. 'In my bed, to my face, or otherwise.' Twilight stared at him levelly. 'You're just one more.'
She watched his face fall, then a surge of anger. 'Like your Uncle Nemesis, eh?'
Twilight felt cold. 'Fair even, Liet.' She dismissed him with a wave.
The youth's face went pale. He realized once again that he had just said the wrong thing. 'I-I didn't mean it,' he said, suddenly sad. 'It just-ah-'
Twilight slapped him. 'Aren't you angry? Do you have a spine, or do you just apologize for everything?' She fended off his damnably comforting hands.
'Why don't you scream at me, or beat me if you want-at least something. Aren't you going to fight for me?' She shoved him off the bed. 'Why don't you say something, damn you?'
Liet stared at her, shocked. 'I-I'm sorry, I…'
Twilight sighed, the fire in her blood dying down. It was pathetic, but it was endearing. A soft smile came over her face, and she hated herself for it.
'I know,' she said. 'I'm the one who should be sorry.' She felt that way, too.
She reached down to help him up, and her fingers scraped his wrist. Liet gave a shiver but didn't pull away. He looked at her, his eyes so sad and longing…
She pulled away. 'I just-' she said. She was shivering. 'I just can't do this.'
The youth looked at her for a long time. Then he nodded. 'I understand.' He gave a knight's bow. 'Fair eve, for a fair maid.'
'Sweet water,' she whispered, 'and light laughter.'
Then he walked away, and Twilight turned to weep as quietly as she could against the wall. No tears came- her eyes were dry.
After a ten-count, she sprang up and pushed the table against the door. No one would intrude-not companion, nor monster, nor nightmare. Not her mysterious attacker, if it even existed. And if it did after all, well,
