Rethana's Surrender: Legends of the Light-Walkers, #1

By Courtney Cantrell

Rethana Chosardal’s life in hiding is over, and she has no one but herself to blame. A foolish choice leaves her in the power of the same vengeful clerics who slaughtered most of her family when she was but a child. Worse, the soldiers also seize her best friend and her frail little sister.

Allasin, the clerics' leader, recognizes in Rethana the Blessing of comori, magical energy that can manipulate the elements. Rethana has always craved the power her birthright can bring, but Allasin will only teach her if she serves him in intrigues she cannot hope to understand. Yet this cold, cruel adversary gives her glimpses now and then of a warmer soul--of a master she could fall in love with.

Rethana is torn between two men: the hometown protector who loved her as a girl and the conqueror who loves her as a woman. As civil war threatens, Rethana must choose between her power and her past. Knowing that a reckless act has already cost her the life she once loved, this new choice may well tear her fragile heart apart. How much more will she surrender to protect her precious, dying sister?

Rethana's Surrender is the first book in the Legends of the Light-Walkers. Approximately 100,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Consortium Books
• Release date: Jun 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477664339

Courtney Cantrell

Courtney Cantrell is the author of epic fantasy series Legends of the Light-Walkers, paranormal fantasy series Demons of Saltmarch, sci-fi epic The Elevator, and oodles of short stories. She was born in Texas and grew up in Germany. At age 12, she penned her first novel, a one-page murder mystery. (The gardener did it.) By age 17, she had finished two full-length YA sci-fi novels. Three transatlantic moves, thirty years, and countless shenanigans later, Courtney writes full-time as a stay-at-home mom. As of 2023, she has survived the collapse of modern civilization and completed 16 novels and two short story collections in multiple genres. Courtney lives with her husband, their daughter, two cats, and an assortment of cross-cultural doohickeys. She blogs haphazardly at courtcan.com and connects with her adoring fans as @courtcan on Mastodon.

Book preview

Chapter One

But, Mother, 'twas naught but a childish prank!

The words left Rethana's mouth before she could stop them, careening into the silence of her mother's shock and crashing into the solid wall of her great-grandmother's ire. Aye, said Yalli. Age had hoarsened her voice, but anger lent it strength. "That's the crux, is it not? 'Twas a childish prank. You're a woman of marrying age, Rethana. Does Family Chosardal not merit an eldest daughter who can manage to obey the precepts that have kept us all alive these last ten years?"

'Neth above, this was going from bad to worse. Rethana dropped her gaze to the floor, hoping Yalli would miss the shine of tears that pricked her eyes. Not fair! she cried on the inside, wishing she could say the words aloud. She hadn't done it to gain attention. She hadn't done it to imperil her family. She hadn't even done it out of spite for those five smelly louts, even though they'd deserved it! Yalli wasn't being fair, accusing her of putting her own diversions ahead of Family Chosardal's safety.

But you can't say that out loud, can you? she thought at herself. Because you know it isn't true.

Aye, and there was the crux of it, more than Yalli knew. Rethana's little vengeance against last night's intruders had put her family at risk, no matter her innocent intentions. She remembered ghostlike, lavender flames and an awfully big puddle that had appeared from nowhere on the bell tower's fourth landing. Her sides had quaked with suppressed laughter when Dav and Telfer went skidding heels-over-hams and the other three joined them in a sodden heap of confusion a moment later. She'd teach them to violate the sanctity of Saemnoth's bell tower!

But her lingering amusement wasn't enough to make up for the anger in Yalli's eyes and the distant pain in Mother's.

Blood and sands, will I ever learn?

Her Mother's soft voice interrupted her self-censure. Now, Yalewan, that is too harsh. You know Rethana would never purpose to bring harm to any of us.

You coddle her, Iannarone. 'Tis no wonder she engages in what amounts to outright rebellion.

But Yalli's voice had lost its harder tone. Trust Mother to take the sting out of her own grandmother's reprimand. Rethana ventured a peek from behind long, black hair at the two women who confronted her: one, thin and frail, bent over a stout cane and under the weight of more than four score and ten; the other, thin and frail not with age but with grief that had persisted these ten, long years. Both had the same clear blue eyes Rethana herself saw in the spotted looking glass every morning. She sighed deep down where no one could see. Two watchful mothers. Did she truly require that much shepherding?

Her glance flickered to the small figure waiting meek and mild in a corner patch of morning sunlight. Make that three watchful mothers. She could feel ten-year-old Chel's stare and knew her sister was willing her to apologize. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

"Yalli, Mother...I didn't invite them into the tower. I was trying to chase them out."

Yalli cleared her throat, somehow making a doubtful noise at the same time. Be that as it may, miss, that doesn't change the broken railing, the scorched stairs, the puddles on every step, and you—sneaking halfway down the shaft in your nightclothes instead of ringing the Captain's Bell for all you were worth. Rethana opened her mouth, but Yalli went on in a firmer tone. "Nay, 'tis no parley we're having, girl. You'll take those histories out to the Tehvses, you'll come straight home after—no dithering!—and you'll stay at home at least until third Firme'stal. Of next month."

"But—of next—but, Mother— Rethana turned to that kinder countenance for aid. That's more than three weeks!"

Iannarone's gentle smile was maddening in its sympathy and its firmness. You won't be bellringer's daughter forever, Rethana. A time will come when you must put these games behind you. Better you learn it now—better you learned it yesterday—and up here in the tower rather than down in Saemnoth, where an unlearned lesson could hurt you.

Looking into her mother's sad, earnest eyes, Rethana couldn't help but be honest. 'Twas no game, Mother. Not this time. Aye, I wanted to frighten them for sneaking into Rocalnaret Qaslin, but this was no kitchen cookfire that got away from me. She clasped her hands, willing Iannarone to understand. "I used it as I willed. It did naught that I didn't want it to do. I had it completely under my control."

Still smiling, Iannarone reached out to brush Rethana's cheek with gentle fingers. Aye, daughter. But when will you learn to control yourself?

With that, Mother turned and helped Yalli from the study, leaving Rethana open-mouthed and very still. She couldn't even move when Chel detached herself from her square of yellow sunshine and came to wrap small fingers around hers.

Oh, Thani.

'Tisn't fair, Chel. Oh aye, speak to your sister the words you don't dare say to Yalli. Gone for a woolhead, as Yalli herself might have said. "I can restrain comori and make it do my bidding. Why won't Mother and Yalli see that?"

She recalled that moment last night in the darkened well of the tower, when she'd let her eyes slip shut and opened her inner sight. Even in memory, the darkness in Rocalnaret Qaslin took on a purplish tinge as she called on her special skill. Her secret.

Comori. My birthright.

'Tis beautiful, Chella, she whispered. Every time, no less beautiful than the last. I wish you could see it.

Chel let go of Rethana's fingers and tossed her own long hair out of her face, exposing the red, crescent-shaped birthmark below her left ear. She crossed thin arms over her skinny chest. "I wish you wouldn't upset Mother."

Rethana sighed, this time very much out loud, and rubbed the bridge of her nose with a thumb and forefinger. I know. But she doesn't see that her caution's born of fear, not faith. And so is Yalli's superstition.

If Chel understood the insinuation—and Rethana wouldn't wager that she didn't—the girl gave no sign. Instead, she broke into the wide, toothy smile Rethana wished would appear more often on her sister's face.

You know what I think is beautiful, Thani?

Goro Bersallir in a mud puddle?

"No, Chel emphasized in a wonderful, ten-year-old manner. The Aeddalin parchment. I think the Aeddalin parchment is beautiful."

You call sacrilege beautiful?

Chel rolled her eyes in a my-sister-is-a-moonraker look. "Aeddalin's name, Thani."

Oh, let me tease you, Chella. You don't have to be Yalli all of the time, you know.

Chel raised her chin and peered at Rethana down the length of her nose. Well, one of us has to be responsible.

Rethana clutched both hands to her stomach. A low blow! And from my own little sister!

But wistfulness gnawed at her belly. Why do I always feel that our places are reversed? Why do I always feel I'm the younger?

Chel was grinning. 'I speak the truth and find therein my freedom,' she said.

Where did you hear that?

Yalli says it betimes.

Hm. Their great-grandmother didn't often quote Eame'nae proverbs. There were too many bitter memories associated with them. 'Neth above, if only Yalli would keep them all to herself! Chel had no memory of the Eame'nae clerics who ruled from capital city E'Tan-elsa. Rethana wanted it to stay that way.

She forced a smile onto her face and laughter into her voice. So you're the responsible one, aye? And what happens when Mother starts at you the way she's been at me?

What? What do you mean?

When she starts trying to marry you off to every moneypouch with boots who comes along—will you still be the dutiful one? Rethana giggled and poked a finger into her sister's ribs to dislodge Chel's horrified expression. You'll join my rebellion then, aye?

Mother doesn't do that to you!

Ha! That's what you know. Rethana crossed the study to the table beneath the open casement. Bending over the Aeddalin parchment, she blew on it. The ink was nearly dry. You didn't hear her talking to Yalli when the praedit's nephew came visiting from Lind Glen.

The praedit's nephew? Chel frowned. But Thani, he didn't have any hair!

Aye. No hair, and a habit of belching after every other word. You see why Mother and I fought all that week. Rethana inclined her head toward Chel, making it a conspiracy. So what shall we do, little sister? I'm leaving for Tehvses' homestead. Come with me. We'll run away from all the balding, belching praedit's nephews and find us some dashing noblemen with stickybun empires and enough money to keep us in silks forever. Aye?

But Chel was pulling back. Sunlight from the window touched the girl's face, but still a shadow darkened her features. Below her left ear, the crescent mark stood out like a welt. She bit her bottom lip and looked down at the floor.

I can't, Thani.

"Cry you mercy, Chella, but...why?"

The question tore from her lips in a wail before Rethana could stop it. And mayhap she didn't want to. Mayhap I ama moonraker...but how long can this go on? How long will Mother and Yalli allow it?

Chel stared at the plain boards beneath her feet. I don't know.

Chella.... Now her voice was a pleading whine. She sighed. You'll have to leave the tower someday. The day will come when I'm...married...and Mother and Yalli won't live forever.

Don't say that!

We've talked of this, Chella. You have to accept that it will happen.

No!

And there they were switched again. Chel angry and petulant, Rethana herself too-serious and practical. You can't be bellringer all by yourself, Chella.

I don't care.

Rethana crossed her arms. You'll care when Prefect Bersallir has his attendants drag you out.

The girl still wouldn't look up. You could stay.

Aye. But only if the moneypouch with boots agrees to live up here with us.

And if I give up comori forever for his sake. What man would take a witch for a wife? Thrice-damned future husband she didn't even want! Chel would never leave Rocalnaret Qaslin of her own accord—or even come farther than halfway down the staircase that spiraled to the base of the tower. The old quarrel made Rethana's head hurt. Either she stayed up here forever, took a husband, and gave up comori...or Chel put aside her imagined terrors and came willingly into the real world.

Please, Chel. We none of us can live this way!

You have to leave the tower. For both of us.

But as usual, Chel was shaking her head with terrible finality. Rethana's gaze fell upon her satchel, hanging from its peg behind the half-closed study door. Without thinking, she picked up the now-dry Aeddalin parchment, crossed the room, and took down the satchel. She slipped the dangerous document into it.

Behind her, Chel sucked in a noisy breath. Too grown-up for her age, too grown-up in her perceptions—and too quick to understand her elder sister's intent.

Yalli bid me visit the Tehvses, Rethana said. If you don't want anyone to see the Aeddalin history, I suppose you'll have to come, too.

Thani, you can't! Aeddalin wasn't Named—we wrote her Called name—'twould be terrible for people to know!

Aye, so 'twould, Rethana answered without turning. But you must understand, Chel. Sometimes, to prevent something from happening or to make something happen, you have to do things you don't want to do. 'Tis scary sometimes. And sometimes it hurts. But 'tis the only way you can make things happen that you know need to happen because that's what's right. Do you understand?

No! Chel's light voice was a wail at Rethana's back. I don't understand you at all!

Rethana squeezed her eyes shut. This is a horrible thing I'm doing. How can I do this?

She remembered angry, suspicious townsfolk at the doors of the bell tower. She imagined the same folk, calmer but still frustrated and impatient—dragging a weeping, terrified Chel out of those doors to make way for a new bellringer family.

And the hideous, selfish part of her mind pictured a much older Rethana, back bent under years of bellringing and heart withered from decades of denying her birthright...her very core.

She couldn't let all of life pass her by, not even for Chel. Could she?

Cry your pardon, Chella. Cry your pardon.

Slinging the satchel over her shoulder, she left the study without a backward glance.

Chapter Two

Despite the evening's growing chill, Rethana was gulping air and sweating when she gained the top of the valley's eastern wall. The climb to the Tehvses' homestead would be less tiring if her legs were more used to such a hike, Rocalnaret Qaslin's many steep stairs notwithstanding. But she didn't visit the Tehvses as often now as she'd once done.

She didn't know she'd been smiling until the smile faded. She turned her mind to last night's adventure, trying to recapture her amusement at snaring Dav and the others in their mischief—and paying them back with some of her own. Comori, her birthright, had ever been capricious...

...but last night was different. Last night, she'd felt bold, confident in her skill. And comori had responded, producing a display of Water, Air, and Fire the like of which she'd never before managed.

And Dav knew 'twas I. The way he turned at the end and looked back up into the tower after the others fled—he knew who played them the trick. Telfer and the Luedken twins had always blamed peculiar incidents on the wind or on the spirits of the dead to spook each other. But over the last ten years, though Davoren Tehvs had never caught her using comori, enough oddities had occurred in Rethana's presence to leave him suspicious. Last night, in the moonlight shining through the tower door, his toothy grin had left no doubt: He no longer suspected. He knew.

A tingle shot along her spine. She didn't know if it was excitement or apprehension. Mayhap a mite of both.

As she reached the first trees at the edge of the forest, a gust of wind hurried past her. She looked back at Saemnoth, nestled in its little bowl-shaped hollow here at the southernmost end of the valley Pangaedd Tirg. Rocalnaret Qaslin, her belltower home, reached high above thatched roofs, a spire bathing in the light of the afternoon sun. Gaps between houses revealed straggling vendors as they packed up the last of their unsold market wares and headed home. Where a branch of the river Balwadd burbled, a thin golden haze drifted through the west side of town.

Rethana sighed. In this southwest corner of the land Jiredd Stal, all looked so peaceful: a stark contrast to the upheaval at home and the much-ignored churning in her stomach. Back the way she'd come, the path down to the town was empty.

'Neth weeps, she thought with no fervor at all.

Dithering, Mistress Chosardal?

She whirled with a yelp, her hand going to her throat. Where her dirt path meandered into the shadowy forest, a darker shadow waited amongst the first trees. It stirred but didn't step forward. Her heart thudded.

And without yer shawl, the voice went on. Yalewan won't be pleased with ye.

Her hand rose to her brow, and she closed her eyes. "Blood and blazing sands, Dav, don't do that!"

He chuckled. Cry ye mercy. I didn't mean to startle ye.

She put her hands on her hips. Prophet's bleeding arm you didn't. What are you doing in there?

He clucked his tongue in a fairly good imitation of her great-grandmother. Ye've spent too much time 'round garrison men that were, Rethana. Finally he stepped out of the trees to join her. Yer tongue needs bridling.

Well, yours is no better, so you won't be the one to do it.

He grinned, revealing an impish, crooked tooth in an otherwise perfect row. I wouldn't dare try. I went to market for Mam, heard ye on the path behind me, decided to wait.

What, you thought I'd be leery, going into Tir'odun alone?

Mayhap.

His grin didn't fade, but something crept into his blue-gray eyes that wasn't jesting. Does he really think I'd be afraid? I've been in and out of the forest near our whole lives! She opened her mouth to tell him so—and with plenty of garrison-learned invective—but he spoke first.

The prefect's cat is a curious cat. What brings ye out here, anyhow?

She couldn't help chuckling. The game of Prefect's Cat had been going on since the day Kandrac Tehvs had first brought his younger son to Rocalnaret Qaslin and introduced him to Family Chosardal, the new bellringers. Rethana couldn't remember who'd started it, but she and Dav had bantered the prefect's cat back and forth for the last ten years. Dav was especially good at inserting the poor creature into conversation when Rethana least expected it. And when he thought her ire might get the best of him.

Sighing, she let go—for now—his implication that she couldn't take care of herself and indicated her satchel. Yalli's histories. And—

Aye?

She grimaced then glanced back over her shoulder along the Saemnoth path. The breeze kicked up a bit of dust, and a scrawny dog strolled around the corner of one of the last houses. No other movement between there and here. Turning back to Dav, she screwed her eyes tight shut and pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand.

He cleared his throat. Ye look like a thief whose last beak-hunt went skewed.

I tried to trick Chel into leaving the tower.

Silence. Rethana opened an eye, venturing a look at Dav. Blue-gray eyes were wide. He raised his eyebrows. Ye what?

She opened both eyes. Well, 'twas for her own good! She can't stay up there forever, and she won't listen to reason, and none of this would have happened but for Aeddalin and the marsh-mucking history—

Rethana, slow down—

"—and Yalli with her infernal stories, when what Chel needs is to be out in the real world, with real people, instead of dead family members she didn't even know of—"

What are ye talking abou—

This! She thrust a hand into the satchel slung around her shoulders. Questing fingers met parchment and she pulled it out, shoving it beneath his nose. This Family Chosardal history. Look at it!

She waved it at him until he raised his hand and slowly took the parchment from her—while slanting her the kind of glance usually reserved for moon-talkers or innkeepers brandishing wooden spoons. He looked down at the offending document, looked back up at her, apparently decided she wasn't going to beat him about the head with her satchel, then returned his attention to the list of Family Chosardal names and birthdates.

This says yer great-grandmother had a sister.

Rethana nodded, sighing.

Dav peered at her over the top edge of the parchment. "An elder sister."

Aye.

But Yalewan is eldest. Yer family's line passed through her, did ye not tell me that years ago?

She rubbed at her temples. Aye, Dav, our line passed through Yalli, then through her daughter, even though Yalli's the younger sister. Aeddalin was eldest...but Aeddalin died before she had a daughter of her own.

Ah. Did ye know?

I'd never heard of Aeddalin 'til today. Rethana blew out a breath through clenched teeth. And neither had Chel, so sure enough she wanted to hear the story.

Dav only looked at her.

There's naught to it, Dav! Yalli watched her sister drown in the Balwadd. Yalli remembers it, though she was little more than a babe. And Aeddalin...

Aye? he prompted when she lapsed into silence.

Rethana felt heat in her cheeks. Aeddalin wasn't quite six years old.

Dav raised his face to the afternoon sky and gave a long, low whistle. Dead before her Naming Day, always Called and never Named. No wonder yer family never spoke of her.

They've always believed what the clerics say, that to write a Called name burdens the unNamed soul.

Dav snorted. What burdens the soul are Called names suited for merrimen, if ye ask me.

"Aye, well, I'd proclaim that from Rocalnaret Qaslin if it wouldn't land me in praedit's penance. Her own Called name, Mellica, was one that six-year-old Rethana had gladly relinquished on her Naming Day. Dav had been Called Segil—not much better. She shook her head. Tradition binds my family as much as any other, in spite of what E'Tan-elsa did to us."

Then why did Yalewan let ye write her sister's name in one of yer family histories?

"Yalli told us her sister died before her Naming Day. And Chel started to cry over how Father died before her Naming Day." Remembering, Rethana swallowed hard. She'd wanted to cross the study and take her sister in her arms. But if I'd moved, I would've cried, too. She'd done her mourning for their father, Roman, long ago, and the dull ache throbbed only on rare occasions. But she could remember playing with him, hearing him laugh, watching him tease Mother. I can pull out those memories and look at them and be glad for my time with him...but Chel doesn't have those keepsakes. She never knew him, she finished aloud, but she still misses him.

So Yalli had ye write her sister's name in the histories to take Chel's mind off yer da?

Aye. But only this one copy. The documents for your Cousin Eb are all standard. No Called names, no long-lost sisters. No defiance of tradition. No blasphemy. And then Yalli said I could bring the histories to Cousin Eb this afternoon—he's at the homestead, aye?—but she forbade me to stay for supper because of what happened last night—

"Och aye?" Dav's eyes crinkled.

"—and then I bickered with Chel over how she refuses to leave the tower, and finally I threatened to show the Aeddalin parchment to Cousin Eb and the rest of your family, and Chel said I wasn't being fair." And I was too much of a coward to look her in the face. Mayhap she's right...but she's too frail to be bellringer herself, even when she's grown. If she never leaves the tower of her own accord, someday the prefect will want a set of backs younger than Mother's and mine. And what will happen to Chel then?

Dav was silent for a few moments. I can't ken it, Rethana, he said then, his eyes worried. 'Tis a question for Prefect Bersallir, or mayhap for the praedit. But this.... He held out the Aeddalin parchment. Ye'd best tear it to pieces right here.

I know. Her voice trembled a little as she stuffed the blighted document back into her satchel. But I have to take it home to Chel, or she'll think I really did give it to Cousin Eb.

Dav compressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. In empathy for Rethana's self-made dilemma? Or did the look harbor disapproval as well?

She dropped her gaze, half-turning to peer back toward the path that led toward Saemnoth. Still no sign of Chel. Blood and sands, you're a moonraker of the finest sort, Rethana fashed at herself. Of course there was no sign of Chel. Why hadn't she just let the girl be?

And let them drag her out by her hair when the time comes?

Or condemn myself to a life without the thing that makes me who I am?

Here she stood at the edge of the forest, venting her troubles to Dav, all while clinging to the monstrous, selfish hope that Chel would come running up the path all bright eyes and laughter...strong enough to thrive without Rethana's care.

Thrice-damn it. Rethana couldn't bear it another moment. She started forward, meaning to brush past Dav and on into Tir'odun, when he reached out a hand to stay her.

Rethana, wait. He ducked his head, running fingers through long, russet hair. 'Twas usually his gesture of amusement; now she read chagrin in the twist of his lips. Ye should know Cousin Eb's not the only one out to the homestead this eve.

His tone was gentle and calm, not as though he were horrified at what she'd done to her sister. She bit her bottom lip. Mayhap he doesn't know if he's vexed with me any more than I do. Aye?

Well...Mam and the girls salted the meat we brought back, and we're feasting a bit tonight.

Ah. She forced a smile. 'Twould be a shame if you'd hunted for three weeks with naught to show for it.

Aye. So 'twould.

Blood and sands, he was going to make her ask. She took a deep breath. Ingadia?

He wouldn't look at her. Ingadia. Then, Ye know this isn't as I'd have it, Rethana.

Aye. I know. She tried to insert cheeriness into her dull tone. Then we'd best be on, aye? The sooner they arrived, the sooner she could leave.

He fell into step beside her, and they entered Tir'odun. Rethana ground her teeth and fought not to think of Ingadia Bersallir. Until not even a year ago, Rethana would have been the first to receive an invitation to this night's feast. Until not even a year ago, there'd have been no question in anyone's mind that she should be included. But if Ingadia was there....

Well, that makes the prefect's cat an unwanted cat.

That did it. She lost the fight. Besides, 'twas a perfect distraction from her misery over the blasted trick she'd played Chel. "Really, Dav...Ingadia?"

They'd rounded the first bend in the path, following it into shadow. She couldn't tell if his cheeks colored or not...but his voice gave a rather unmanly crack when he spoke. She's a nice girl, Rethana.

There was that traveling nobleman from Elys Fie last year.

"That was a misunderstanding. Prefect Bersallir and Ingwen hosted a Halaferth guest, and Ingadia served. 'Twas naught more."

Oh, aye, 'tis certain. When he didn't reply, she couldn't resist another jibe. But she's a gossip, Dav.

He tripped over something that wasn't there, then righted himself and turned his face aside. But she caught the guilty frown on his face and peered at him as they walked on. Prophet's bleeding arm. What, Dav? I'll hear it sooner or later, so you might as well spit and make merry.

The light-hearted phrase did its work; he favored her with a crooked smile. Och, aye, he muttered in his mother's far-south lilt, 'tis right ye are—that I ought to tell ye straight out. She didn't miss the qualification of right. Ingadia did bring news this morning....

Aye?

He cleared his throat. Well, Rethana, ye see...there's some talk 'round town. I heard it myself in the market today, he added in a rush, as though absolving Ingadia of any blame.

Talk.

Aye. Talk...of yer busy time in the tower last night.

She balled up her fists at her sides. "And what might that mean?"

They're asking how many of Captain dun Gharrem's men had to turn out—twelve? Or mayhap twenty?

"What?"

Talk has it that fifteen of the Captain's soldiers had to drag ten men out of yer chamber, and the Captain hauled one out of yer bed by the scruff of his neck.

She stopped in her tracks, hearing spluttering noises but unable to identify them. They resolved into words unequal to the task of expressing the anger behind them. Blood and blazing—bleeding Proph—of all the—Davoren Tehvs, stop laughing!

He doubled over in the center of the path, bellowing guffaws at the dusty ground. She felt an urge to topple him. But fury sapped her strength. Now I know why those blazing boys with the mopsybug wouldn't stop staring at me in the market! And the carter, and the cloth vendor, and the praedit's great-niece.... Naereth's bloody, blazing gates, Dav, if you don't stop laughing this instant—

'Tisn't— He gasped between laughs. "'Tisn't as bad as all that. I only...heard that...from one vendor. The rest...thought 'twas merely four men...and said naught about yer bed...."

Well, at least they got the number right!

That set him off again. Rethana crossed her arms and glared at him, giving in to the urge to tap her foot. When he finally straightened, his blue-gray eyes were shining at her above a grin so wide she hoped it would split at the corners. Are you quite finished? she growled.

Och aye, och aye. Still chuckling.

Really, Dav, why would you listen to talk like that? Where's that Tehvs loyalty you always prate about?

Don't ye doubt my friendship, Rethana. But yer face pays me even for the scare ye gave us in yon belltower.

She gaped. So that's what—Oh, you!

Mayhap ye'll think twice, next time ye want to use yer witchy skills 'gainst a Tehvs man.

She delivered one more good glare then stomped on down the path. He caught up easily. I saved the best part for last.

I'm like to knock your crooked tooth straight, Davoren, so you'd as well to keep saving.

Nay, ye'll approve this bit. Goro Bersallir got into a batch of pricklepeppers yestereve.

Rethana snorted before she could help it. You're not saying....

Lost every hair on his head, all in one night.

The laugh tightened her belly, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Ingadia must be livid.

Och aye, she's not pleased. But she gets her giddies in a bunch too often over her brother, anyway.

Rethana turned her head to hide a smile. In spite of being besotted with Ingadia, Dav had no liking for her