Anger flared in Seregil’s grey eyes, but only for an instant. “You’re probably right.”

“You know I am, talí.” Alec pulled on his boots and stood up, looking for his sword belt and bow.

“Nobody is going anywhere yet,” Thero told them with an obvious effort. “There are preparations we must make.”

Micum stepped in through the tent flap, still tucking in his shirt. “I just met Doctor Kordira and she told me what happened. Tell me what you want me to do, Thero.”

“As I was just telling them, there are preparations to be made. If we are dealing with a dyrmagnos, then we have to be ready, although I’m concerned about that, given what happened to Alec’s lightstone there.”

“You mean your magic might not work there, either,” said Seregil.

“Precisely. But we won’t know that unless I can find a way in with Alec’s help. That’s the first thing we must ascertain.”

“And I’m just going to lie here and worry, apparently,” Seregil growled.

“Can you ride?” asked Thero.

“I can manage.”

“Good. Go speak with Zella and learn all you can from her about the ambush. Also, I need that gold arm ring she showed us that first night. See if you can find out who the workmen were who went into that cave. I think one of them may have the Great Seal.”

“If it’s there I’ll find it,” he replied, looking much happier now that he had something to do. “I better get cleaned up. Help me over to my tent, will you, Micum? And I think I’d like to speak with the good doctor, too.”

Micum got him into his breeches and helped him to his tent.

“Do you want to go to the bathing tent?” asked Micum as he eased Seregil down to sit on his own bed.

“Later,” said Seregil. “Please send in the doctor and then go keep Thero company. He’s more brokenhearted than he’s letting on.”

“What about you?”

“I could ask you the same,” Seregil replied. “We’re going to find her and bring her back. That’s all I want to think about right now.”

Micum clasped his hand, then went out.

There was no question of going into Deep Harbor the way he looked, Seregil thought glumly, grimacing into the small mirror someone had left near the bed. The skin around the stitches in his scalp was a healthy-looking pink, but the hair he had left was a stiff, tangled mess. Between that and the bloodstained bandages swathing his chest, he was a sight to scare small children.

Kordira stepped in and caught him shaking his head at his less-than-pleasing reflection. “May I examine you?”

“I’d appreciate it.”

She came and looked him over, touching his head here and there with gentle fingers. “I’m so sorry about Princess Klia.”