“I didn’t say that,” said Oreg. “It’ll be up to Ward, but since he has a wide band of stubborn stupidity that would do credit to a mule when the question of right and wrong is concerned, I expect he’ll agree. You understand I can’t say for certain until I have Ward out. Once I have him, I’ll get Kellen out immediately so security doesn’t tighten.”

“I’d rather you not use his name so freely,” said Rosem. “Being a wizard, you know about scrying.”

Oreg snorted. “Being acompetent wizard, I can keep Jakoven’s pets from listening to any of my conversations. They’ll not learn of your plans for Kellen from me.”

“Tell me where and when to meet you after you’ve gotten him out,” said Rosem.

Oreg hesitated. “Menogue,” he said at last. “At the path before it begins the climb to the hilltop. I’ll meet you there the evening after your man escapes. It should be very soon—so make sure he gets that charm.”

“First thing tomorrow,” agreed Rosem, closing his hand over the little bead until his knuckles turned white.

TISALACLOSEDROSEM’S DOOR BEHIND THEM ANDhugged her arms together as the chill night breeze cut through her clothing.

“He’s not usually so abrupt,” she said, setting out for the mansion where Ward’s family would be waiting. “He’s just worried.”

“Jealous,” correct Oreg, a hint of mischief in his voice.

“Jealous?” she asked.

“Rosem has Tallvenish body servant written all over him. His duty and honor is to protect his lord, but he has to go to a mage for help.”

She thought about that for a moment. “Maybe a little,” she said.

Rosem had engineered an escape once, years ago. It had failed, and the resulting chaos made it perfectly clear to everyone involved that if the king believed there was a real chance of his brother escaping, he’d forget about oracle warnings and kill Kellen. If Oreg wasn’t successful, Kellen would die and it would be Rosem’s fault. But Kellen was already dying in that little cell.

“I still think it’s mostly worry,” she said.

WHENTISALA FOLLOWEDOREG INTO THE LIBRARYat Lord Duraugh’s rented manor, they found Tosten waiting for them. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and he rubbed them wearily, setting aside the battered harp he’d been fingering.

“I found him,” she told Tosten in a voice suitable to a house where people were sleeping.

“How was he?”

She looked away and said, “Oreg thinks they are using herbs—he wasn’t himself.” The image of Ward trying to bury himself under the straw haunted her, and she didn’t see any reason to share it with his brother—especially when the effects were, she hoped, temporary.

Tosten turned to Oreg. “But he’ll be all right?”