Aazen paused, not looking back. "No. I don't think .. . no. I'm all he has. He cares for me."

Kall's mouth twisted. "How can he? Your father's a murderer."

Aazen said, calmly, "So is yours."

And then, as if it had been waiting, the scene in the garden broke fresh in Kall's mind. He saw his father drowning Haig as the sun shone down and insects buzzed around their bleeding wounds. He'd managed to block it out before, when he'd needed to escape, but Aazen's words conjured the memory effortlessly.

Kall put his head in the grass and vomited. Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades, but he was so cold his fingers were numb. He tried to stand, but the sickness racked his body. Aazen made no move to help him.

"You said ... you said he was under Balram's control!" Kall spat and wiped his mouth. "Father would never have killed Haig."

"Morel hates the Harpers. My father told me your father had reason to want Haig's death."

"No!"

Aazen looked down at Kall pityingly. "Get on your horse," he said. "Don't come back. Don't come after Balram. I'll have to ... to kill you, if you do."

Then Aazen went, his footsteps shuffling dully through the grass. Kall sat, frozen in shock, but he didn't call out again. He simply listened, his breath aching in his chest, as his best friend walked away from him.

Finally, his movements wooden, Kall tied the linen bundles on to his back and mounted. He pointed the horse in the direction of the city gates, picking his way in and out of sparse trees, avoiding the open fields of the cemetery wherever possible. After a dozen glances over his shoulder, he left his home behind.

The horse plodded on the road south, and when next Kall opened his eyes, he saw nothing but moonlight on grass and a row of carefully laid stones.

Kall thought he'd turned a complete circle, bringing him back to the same cemetery he'd left earlier that night. No, the stones were different—there were more here, older, and of elaborate design.

He slid down for a closer look, but the family names were none he recognized. A twisted oak overrun by tall grass and brush marked the border of the cemetery. Kall tied the horse to the tree, out of sight, and settled on the grass.

For a long time he stared straight ahead, listening for the sounds of hoofbeats or footfalls that might indicate pursuit. Hearing none, he untied the bundles from his back and clutched them tight.

His empty gaze focused on one of the unfamiliar markers. The name "Alinore Fallstone" was carved deep into the stone next to some kind of symbol. There were more words written underneath the name in a language Kall did not recognize.

He stared at the symbols, at the incomprehensible language, until the words blurred and darkness fell completely over his mind.

CHAPTER SIX

Esmeltaran, Amn

12 Eleasias, the Year of the Sword (1365 DR)

Balram waited at the door to Aazen's chamber. His gaze flicked briefly to Dencer, who'd found Aazen on the road and escorted him home. "Wait outside," he said.

Dencer nodded and shut the door, sealing them off from the rest of the house.

Aazen stood in the middle of the room, waiting, while Balram locked the door and slowly turned. They stared at each other for a quiet breath, measuring, Aazen thought, how much had changed since they'd last spoken in this room.

"Kall is gone?" his father asked at last. He already had the answer, but Aazen recognized what he really wanted to know.

"Kall is leaving Amn," Aazen said. "He knows that to stay is to die. Your secret is safe. I made sure of it," he added, and realized immediately that it was a mistake. He sounded too confident, too powerful, and Balram sensed it.

His father's eyes narrowed and something ugly broke on his calm, inscrutable face. "You made certain. You stood in this chamber and lied to me, took my life into your hands. . . ."

"I protected you."

"You were protecting Morel's whelp!" His father took a step forward. Aazen flinched. He couldn't help it. "You gave no thought to me."

"That's not true, Father," Aazen said quietly. "I give every thought to you, every breath of my life."

"What is it you want, Aazen?" his father asked, his tone altering to curiosity. "You could have gone with Kall. You were clever to lead me astray, more careful than I gave you credit for. I will never make that mistake again," he added, his face darkening. "Yet you returned to me."