“Tell me something I don’t know,” Dethor said, throwing an apple core into the fire in a gesture of exasperation. “Just how many agents have we lost?”

“Too many.” Talamir was just glad that none of them had been Heralds. He had argued—successfully—that the Heralds were too few to risk inside the borders of Karse. But the fact was, from the beginning he had doubted the ability of any of them to pass as Karsite, and when the Sunpriests got their hands on Heralds, the results were traumatic for every Herald. It wasn’t just the Death Bell tolling that sent everyone into a spate of mourning, it was that everyone knew what happened to Heralds that got caught in Karse. There was a sick fear behind the mourning, and the same kind of frustration and anger that sent Alberich out looking for a fight.

The Lord Marshal had been perfectly willing to send in his own people, however, and when he did, exactly what Talamir feared happened. Karse devoured agents as a child devours sweets. They seemed to last about a moon before they were discovered; certainly not much longer. What happened to them after that, Talamir was all too aware; he preferred not to dwell on it, for at least all the men had been volunteers and knew precisely what awaited them if captured. Certainly, no more than a handful had returned.

Horrible. And there didn’t seem to be a great deal they could do to change that. No matter how much information they gathered on Karse, no matter who they spoke to or how many old books they read, they were not able to fool real Karsites for long.

If at all.

“What we need,” Dethor said glumly, “is what we can’t get. Real Karsites. Someone who’s got all the little nuances, habits, all the things you just can’t study. Someone who fits. Someone who can’t give himself away, because what’s second-nature to him is all based on real Karsite memories. But the few folk who’ve come over are all too frightened to go back, and I can’t say as I blame ’em.” The scent of burning apple, sweet and bitter at the same time, added a strange nuance to his words.

Alberich wouldn’t be too frightened to go, if he could; Alberich had everything they needed in an agent. If only they could use him—

And—the other stumbling block—if only his sense of honor would allow him to be so used.

It was so intensely frustrating. Sometimes Talamir just wanted to howl with the frustration.