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rather ominous picture.”
    “Such as?”
    “There were no weapons in the glen except for a
single long sword. Of course,” he said, “it is possible that any
other weapons were taken as plunder, as was the dagger you seek.
But none of the elves in the glen wore either belt or baldric. The
bodies of a few armed elves were found in the forest nearby, but
none in the clearing. Since it’s obvious that the elves didn’t
gather for battle or hunting, I assume the raiders interrupted a
celebration or ritual of some sort.”
    All of these things were undoubtedly true. “So?”
    “Except for your sister, all of the elves were
dressed in dark blue. But my men found a single crimson robe. The
presence of a blood-red robe and a single sword strikes me as
somewhat . . . suggestive.”
    “You’ve concluded the gathering was to be a trial
followed by an execution.”
    He nodded. “And after the trial was interrupted, an
elf in garb befitting a queen or a priestess demanded that you
present yourself and a ceremonial dagger to your surviving clan.
Forgive me if I presume, but it sounds very much like sentence was
already passed—in your sister’s mind, if none other.”
    A sound like rushing waters closed over Honor’s head.
As much as she wanted to refute the adept’s words, she could not be
certain that he was wrong. There was much about that night that was
lost to memory. It might have been as he said.
    “So when I say that you need not return to the
forest, I’m offering you an alternative. You could stay in Sevrin.
Volgo has faced elven swords before. He’s very eager to add one to
his company.”
    “Not every elf is a warrior.”
    Rhendish took her sword hand and turned it up,
displaying the row of nearly bone-deep calluses across the top of
her palm and the scar along the pad of her thumb.
    His eyes narrowed and he pushed up her sleeve. “You
removed the bracers.”
    “They were uncomfortable.”
    “To you or to one of the Fox’s band of thieves?” he
asked slyly.
    She kept her gaze on his and her face impassive.
“Obviously you’ve never worn armor of any kind.”
    “But the scars . . .”
    She glanced down at her forearm. Pale silver lines
ran the length of her arm, crisscrossing older scars she’d won in
battle. None of the marks were unsightly. Elves healed quickly and
valued signs of valor.
    “What about them?”
    He shook his head in astonishment. “Most women of my
acquaintance—and most men, for that matter—would consider such
marks disfiguring.”
    “You don’t know many warriors, then.”
    “All the more reason for me to secure your services.
I promise you, this arrangement would suit us both,” he said
earnestly. “Whatever you sought to achieve in the forest is lost.
With me, you can gain wealth, a position of command, whatever you
desire.”
    “What if my desire is to return to my people?”
    “Only to die over some failed plot or unrealized
ambition?” He shook his head. “You might think honor requires this
of you, but isn’t there greater honor to be found in keeping your
people safe and at peace? I’m offering you an alliance that puts in
your hands all the resources necessary to protect the forest from
those who would despoil it.
    “And who knows?” He turned his hands palms up and
spread them out wide in the manner of one presenting vast
possibilities. “In time, you might achieve whatever it was that
brought you to trial.”
    “Or prove myself innocent.”
    “Or that,” he said in a bland tone that contradicted
his words.
    Honor studied him for any sign of duplicity. To all
appearances, he sincerely believed her a traitor who might be won
to his cause. Why, she could not begin to fathom.
    “I will think on it,” she said. “May I go?”
    He swept one hand toward the door in a graceful arc.
Honor rose, grateful to find her body back under her command.
    Somehow she found her way through the walls of books
and out onto the street. She walked for a long time, playing