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out from beneath the noses of the Elvenlords.
In fact that peculiar discordant feeling in the back of his
skull signaled that someone within the Citadel had used that
particular magicagain. It had to be Lashana. And in no way could it be for
anyone's good except that selfish brat's.
But no one, no one would believe a single word he saidagainst her.
Not their dearElvenbane, the person who had brought them the dragons
(treacherous, sneaky beasts, whose minds could shift as easily as their
shapes), the Trader clans(untrustworthy, wild human barbarians), and the Iron
People(folly to put faith in any people who were not only wild
humanbarbarians, but who had their own defenses against the Elven-lords and
didn't need allies). Everyone so easily forgot that itwas because of Lashana
that they hadneeded those "allies,"andneeded to leave their comfortable, easy
life in the oldCitadel in the first place!
She was up to something; he knew it, he could taste it! She was up
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to something, and it could only mean new trouble foreveryone else!
If only he could find out about itbefore everything fellapart if he
could catch her at some folly and prove she was upto something that would only
drag everyone here into some new danger, they'd all believe him again!
That was it that was it!
He kicked another shoe from his path, but this time with atriumphant
cackle of laughter. That would serve the brat herjust desserts! He'd use her
own fancy magics to spy on her andfind out exactly where she was going then
he'd use more ofthem to find out what she was doing! He'd catch her
red-handed, and then he'd haul her back to the Citadel and makeher confess in
front of everyone! Oh, it would serve herright for her own magic to be used
against her!
He turned abruptly and rummaged through the litter on hisdesk for the
piece of smoke-quartz that served him for a magni-fier of his power, then
cleared a space and concentrated on the scrying spell. Lashana didn't
discovereverything about magic,after all! She hadn't been the one to learn
that in scrying, youdidn't have to look for a place you knew, or even a
person justa particular object or kind of object. That was how they
filchedprovisions from the Elvenlords, back in the good old days....
So rather than look for Lashana because she might bealerted if she
sensed someone scrying forher he looked foran object. Something she always
wore. A dragon-skin belt, made from the shed hide of her so-called "foster
brother" andunique in that it had been dulled with dye so that it didn't catch
the eye the way the brilliantly colored skin normally did.
When he found it, he would find her then he would study where she was
carefully very carefully.
Then the next time she left, he would follow, a little behind. He'd
find out where she was going, and what she was doing.
And the moment that he found out her secret
He closed his hand into a fist, and smiled.
29
Triana lay on her stomach on the cold, hard ground be-neath a bush, peering
down at an encampment in the tiny valley below her. Water dripped down on the
hood of hercloak from the branches above her, and although the cloak itselfwas
waterproof, mist permeated even the cleverly-magickedfabric somewhat. It was
not a comfortable position, but hersheer astonishment at the sight that lay
beneath her allowed her to ignore her discomfort.
There was a campsite down there in the mizzle, with six or eight
standing figures, putting the place to rights, and one sit-ting figure. It was
the seated one that had her attention.
"You see, my lady?" murmured the human tracker in Tri-ana's ear. "It
is as I told you. There is the Elvenlord you wishedto find."
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Well, it was an Elvenlord, all right, but it wasnot the one shehad
intended to find. Not that the tracker could be blamed in this case.He didn't
know what Lord Kyrtian looked like, espe-cially at a distance. He couldn't
know that Kyrtian, the fool,
would never have sat back and watched while his slaves put up a camp.
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