detail-of the years they'd spent apart, while Kaleb sat across the room and fidgeted. But all too soon, or perhaps not soon enough, neither had anything left to say.
'We have to go,' Jassion told her finally, rising from his chair. 'Even if you can't help, we have to find him.'
'I understand. Jass?'
'Hmm?'
'I know how you feel about him, and maybe you're right. But… Take him alive, if you can? For me?'
The baron's lips pressed tight, but he nodded. 'If I can, Tyannon.' Then, haltingly, 'And perhaps, when this is over… Maybe you and the children might come to Braetlyn? I know you've no interest in being baroness, and I wouldn't foist it on you, but… It'd be nice not to be alone.'
'I don't know, Jass. I'll think on it.'
And that-along with a timid, tentative hug and the soft thud of a closing door-was that. Jassion stood on the walkway outside, staring out over the vegetable garden, and for once Kaleb was wise enough to hold his comments.
It was Jassion himself who finally broke the silence. 'What now? We didn't really have a backup plan.'
'Now? We wait. It'll be dark in a few hours. They'll all be asleep by then.'
Jassion stiffened. 'So?'
'So Lilander's too young to put up a fight. We can take him without much of a fuss, and with his blood-'
'Have you lost your godsdamn mind?'
'No, but if you keep shouting like that, I may lose my godsdamn hearing.' He actually stuck a finger in his ear, wiggled it about a bit. 'What's your problem?'
In a slightly lower voice, 'Do you truly believe, for one single instant, that I'm going to let you abduct my nephew?'
'I won't hurt him, old boy. We just need-'
'No. Absolutely not. I told you, I don't care what sort of magic you have-'
'Yes, yes, you'll find some way to kill me. I've heard it before.'
'You may not be around to hear it again. Besides, you said you couldn't find Rebaine even with familial blood, that he had spells to block you.'
'From a distance, yes. But his magics aren't that powerful. If I can get near enough, I can break through his defenses. If I have a relative's blood. It's not much, but it's far better than nothing. You know, nothing? Like what we have now?'
They faced off in the middle of the yard, two men each as unyielding as oaks.
'Don't you have other means?' Jassion asked eventually. 'Other magics we might use?'
'Oh, plenty. There are a dozen spells I could use to try to locate Rebaine.'
'Then why-?'
'Because none of them would work. Even his magics are potent enough to completely block most lesser divinations. Neither of us has seen him personally in the past few months, and we don't have any of his hair or skin, so that rules out the more powerful options.'
'Tyannon might have something.'
'Oh, sure. She abandoned him with kids in tow because he'd betrayed everything she thought he was, but she kept a tuft of his beard as a keepsake.'
Jassion grumbled something under his breath.
'Look, it's the only way-'
'No.' The baron glared at Kaleb once more, but he wasn't seeing the sorcerer. Again he saw the black armor dragging his sister from him, again he saw the guards approaching, felt the warm blood and the flopping limbs as the corpses piled up around him. He saw, in his mind's eye, the pimply face of his nephew twisted in sudden fear.
And in that moment, he swore to himself: I will do almost anything to stop Rebaine-but I will not become him to do it.
Perhaps Kaleb saw some of that in Jassion's expression, because he simply nodded and turned to go, wandering back down the walk toward the posts at which they'd tied their mounts. Startled by his abrupt acquiescence, but unwilling to broach the subject further, Jassion scurried after.
For more than an hour they rode in silence, passing once more through Abtheum's gate and back onto the open highway. The clop-clop of the hooves seemed to tick away not merely distance but time itself.
'So what,' Jassion asked again when it grew too heavy to bear, 'do we do now?'
'We wait.'
'It seems to me that we've had this conversation before. What, exactly, are we waiting for this time?'
'For our other option.' Kaleb grinned smugly, steadfastly refusing to elaborate.
That option caught up with them in the early evening, moments after they'd made their nightly camp. Jassion stood by a tree off in the shadows, checking the tethers on the horses, while Kaleb crouched by a crackling fire he'd lit without benefit of flint or tinder, preparing a haunch of heavily salted beef they'd acquired in Abtheum's market. Both looked up as one, heads cocked at the soft whinny and faint jingling of an approaching mount.
'Right on schedule,' Kaleb muttered, dusting his hands off and rising to his feet. Jassion's hand strayed toward Talon's hilt as he moved to join his companion, but the sorcerer shook his head. 'That won't be necessary, O master swordsman.'
A small palfrey rounded the bend, clearly a beast of burden rather than war. The slender figure atop the saddle wore undyed tunic and leggings. Face and chest were concealed by a hooded cloak that might have been described as 'pearl' if it were of higher quality but, as it was, could only be called 'off-white.'
Horse and rider drew to a halt, faces turned to study the men by the fire. Small hands lifted the hood, dropped it back, revealing slim features and dark hair.
'Good evening, Mellorin,' Kaleb said.
Jassion just cursed. A lot.
The daughter of Corvis Rebaine slid from her saddle, landing softly on her feet and striding toward them as though she had every right and expectation of being there. As she approached, Jassion whispered to Kaleb, 'How did you know?'
'I saw a rather familiar look on her face during our conversation.'
'Familiar?'
'Just like one of yours, actually. The one you get when you're about to be idiotically pigheaded about something. I've seen it a lot, actually.'
'Gentlemen,' she greeted them, halting some feet away. Her voice was steady, confident, but the flickering of her eyes in the firelight betrayed an underlying unease.
'What are you doing here, Mellorin?' Jassion asked. 'Is something wrong?' A sudden twitch of fear touched his face. 'Did something happen back home?'
Kaleb sighed and rolled his eyes in a gesture that was becoming as familiar as breath. 'Nothing happened, you jackass. She wants to come with us. Don't you, Mellorin?'
She nodded. 'I know you're looking for my father. I need-I want to find him, myself.'
'Absolutely not!' The baron advanced, hand outstretched to clutch her shoulder. 'There's no way I'm letting you-'
Boots etching a crescent in the dust, Mellorin spun. Her right shoulder connected with Jassion's chest, throwing him off his stride, while her left hand closed about his wrist. She continued, feet crossing, and Jassion, already off-balance, found himself yanked forward. He slammed to the earth, landing hard on his back and kicking up a cloud of dirt around him.
One more cross-step and Mellorin ended her spin nose-to-nose with Kaleb. A truly ugly knife, short but broad of blade and serrated down one side, protruded from her fist in an underhanded grip and pressed-gently but unmistakably-against the sorcerer's throat.
'I don't like being touched,' she told them softly. 'And I can take care of myself. I'm not asking to just 'tag along.' I can help you.'
'Feisty, aren't you?' Kaleb asked with a grin.
Mellorin's expression grew frosty. 'I was-attacked once, when I was just a child. My dear father saved me,
