Sedric looked up suddenly, and regretted it. Vertigo rocked him briefly and then cleared. “Yes. Yes, it is.” The hunter sat down across from him and kept looking at him. Those black eyes locked with his own, as if they wished to see inside Sedric’s head. He looked down at his bowl and forced himself to take another mouthful of the stuff. It was helping his stomach, but he didn’t enjoy the experience of eating it. He glanced up again at the watchful hunter. “Thank you for your help. I don’t mean to keep you from your duties. I’m sure I’ll be fine now. As you say, it was probably something I drank or ate. So you needn’t bother about me.”

“It’s no bother.”

Again the man waited, as if there was something he expected Sedric to say. He was at a loss. He looked down at his “food” again. “I’m fine, then. Thank you.”

And still the man lingered, but now Sedric refused to look up from his bowl. He ate steadily in small bites, trying to seem as if it demanded all his attention. The hunter’s attention flustered him. When he rose from his seat across the table, Sedric repressed a sigh of relief. As Carson passed behind Sedric, he put a heavy hand on his shoulder and leaned down to speak right next to his ear. “We should talk some time,” he said quietly. “I suspect we have far more in common than you know. Perhaps we should trust each other.”

He knows. The thought sliced through Sedric’s aplomb and he nearly choked on his mouthful of sodden bread. “Perhaps,” he managed to say and felt the grip on his shoulder tighten briefly. The hunter chuckled as he lifted his hand and left the deckhouse. As the door shut firmly behind him, Sedric pushed the bowl away and cradled his head on his arms. Now what? He asked the enclosed darkness. Now what?

THE BROWN DRAGON looked dead. Thymara longed to go closer and have a better look at her, but the golden dragon standing over her intimidated her. Mercor had scarcely moved since the last time she had walked past them. His gleaming black eyes fixed on her now. He did not speak, but she felt the mental push he gave her. “I’m only worried about her,” she said aloud. Sylve had been dozing, leaned back against her dragon’s front leg. She opened her eyes at the sound of Thymara’s voice. She gave Mercor an apologetic glance and then came over to Thymara.

“He’s suspicious,” she said. “He thinks someone hurt the brown dragon on purpose. So he’s standing watch to protect her.”

“To protect her, or to be first to eat her when she dies?” Thymara managed to keep all accusation out of her voice.