unpleasant ordeal. When Safar asked what was wrong he didn't speak, but only clutched him tighter. Palimak was silent on the short walk home. He ate little of his dinner and went to bed without complaint.
Late that night Safar was awakened from a dreamless sleep. His limbs were heavy, yet his mind sang with urgency. He forced his eyes open and saw Gundara crouched on his chest.
The little Favorite was frantic, clawing at his nightshirt. 'Hurry, Master!' he cried. 'The boy! The boy!'
Safar groaned out of bed, fighting rolling waves of lethargy. He grabbed his little silver dagger and staggered to Palimak's room.
He paused at the door, fighting the strange weariness. Gundara was perched on his shoulder, fangs chattering in fear.
Safar looked inside.
A tall man stood over the sleeping child. Flanking him were gigantic wolves, reared up on their hind legs.
When the man saw him he smiled and said, 'Hello, Safar.'
The wolves growled menacingly.
'Silence!' the man commanded. 'Can't you see I'm speaking to my friend?'
It was Iraj Protarus. Back from the dead.
CHAPTER FIVE
She rode in from the north, keeping the Demon Moon at her back and staying well within its long shadows. Her horse's hooves were muffled, as were her weapons and armor. The night wind was up, moaning through trees and gullies so the only discernible sound was the occasional creak of her harness, or the faint rattle of pebbles when her horse misstepped.
Leiria drew up when she neared the bend where the first sentries should have been posted. She knew where they'd be because it was Leiria herself who had reformed Kyrania's methods of guarding the approaches. She'd not only drawn up the map but had trained the sentries. She'd also imposed an orderly system for challenges and knew what passwords the lead sentry would use when he demanded if she were friend or foe. The plan was that as the approaching party or parties considered the response, two other guardians of the trail would move in on opposite flanks. If she appeared threatening, they'd cut her down with their crossbows while she was still focusing on the lead sentry.
That was the plan-as foolproof as anyone could make it. She'd drilled her charges thoroughly, warning all the while that the fools she was attempting to guard them against were on their side.
'If the enemy presents himself,' she'd told Rossthom, the man she'd schooled to take her place when she left, 'it's safer to assume he isn't a dimwit. If he's to be worth anything at all as a potential enemy, he'll have scouted your defenses before the approach. He'll know very well who is the greatest dullard on your side. The one most likely to fall asleep. The one who favors a nip or three on the jug to keep off the chill. When you issue your challenge he'll pause to consider for an arse scratch or two, while his best men cut your laggard friend's throat. By the time you repeat the challenge his entire force will be on you.'
Rossthom had heeded her well-and to a lesser degree, so had her other charges-so she was quite disappointed when no one challenged her when she came to the barricade. Her disappointment deepened when she found Rossthom's bloody remains sprawled next to the barricade. There were no marks on the muddy ground so she knew he'd died without a struggle. There were only his footprints and the depressions his body made as he flopped about while his attacker slit him from stem to stern.
Leiria dismounted and considered the situation. She thought it quite odd there was no sign of the enemy's approach. As carefully as she searched, there were no other marks on the ground. It was as if Rossthom had been attacked from above. She searched further and found the corpses of the other two sentries.
Once again, there was no spoor left by the enemy.
She led her horse into a grove of trees overlooking Kyrania. In the light of the Demon Moon the fields and homes were quite clear. A few chimneys glowed, a few candles were guttering down in distant windows and far off she could hear a young rooster mistake the Demon Moon for dawn and crow an eerie welcome.
All in all, everything seemed quite peaceful. If it weren't for the dead sentries she might have thought her mad rush to Kyrania was not only a waste of time but a humiliating one at that.
Since she'd left Safar's side she had been making a decent if precarious living by selling her sword. Only a few weeks ago she'd been wriggling into the comfortable post as captain of a minor king's guard. The pay was good, the king's ambitions small and she had a comfortable room with a soft bed, easy access to the privy and a fireplace to warm her on a winter's night.
Then one night she'd had a dream. The dream had started well enough-she was in Safar's arms, snuggling up after making love and drifting off to sleep. This was a planned dreamed, a dream she'd conjured on many a night to carry her away from a difficult day.
On that particular night, however, the dream continued on. She found herself being pulled into another embrace. She went willingly, sleepily enjoying the caresses of her re-awakened companion. Then the arms holding her were suddenly somehow unfamiliar-but familiar-at the same time. It was not an embrace she welcomed. Leiria felt as if she had been drugged and had awakened in the arms of a monster.
In her dream, she opened her eyes and saw it was not Safar, but Iraj preparing to mount her. She shouted, catching him by surprise, then gripped his hair and flung him to the side. She came to her feet, grabbing a candleholder for a weapon. Iraj rolled away just in time as she hurled it at him and the heavy base thudded uselessly into the feather mattress.
Her sword was lying next to the bed where she always kept it and she snatched it up just as Iraj rose from the floor.
Except now it wasn't Iraj she was facing. Instead she was confronted by an enormous wolf! She slashed at it, but the bed between them was too wide and the wolf too agile.
Then it turned to her, red eyes boring in. The wolf opened its jaws to speak. She was too numb to be surprised when she heard Iraj's voice issuing from the wolf's mouth.
'Slut,' it hissed. And, 'Whore!' Then, 'I gave you to Safar Timura. Now I want you back!'
Naked as she was, those words armored Leiria in the strongest mail. 'I was given once,' she said. 'I won't be given again. Back, or otherwise.'
And she hurled herself across the bed, slashing with all her might.
Then she was sitting up in bed, striking with her fists at nothing but innocent darkness.
Instead of confusion, however, Leiria had one thought fixed in her mind-Safar was in danger. She didn't question this thought, much less dwell on the nightmare. Her soldier's instinct said this was so and therefor she acted.
Two hours later she was riding for Kyrania. She didn't even bother to tell her employer, the king.
Now, looking down at the peaceful scene, she wondered for an instant if she'd gone mad. Love mad, that is. Had the dream been nothing but an excuse to be in Safar's presence once again? Admit it, Leiria, she said to herself, you still love him. But then she thought, No, I'm over that. If there's any love, it's because I love him as a sister loves a brother.
Then she had the skin-crawling awareness that there must be a spell on the trail to make her feel so confused about her mission. Behind her were dead sentries. Ahead of her was a seemingly peaceful village. Only a fool wouldn't realize that it didn't add up.
She moved closer to the hill's edge. Just below she could see Safar's home peeking out of the cherry grove that was Kyrania's unofficial boundary. There was a strange silvery glow streaming out of one of his windows. She frowned, remembering the layout. The light was coming from Palimak's room. At any other time she would have thought the child was up to some magical mischief.
But not this time. Not this night.
She loosened her weapons, took up her horse's reins and led it quietly down the trail.
