Lynn Flewelling - Traitor's Moon

Alec was dimly aware of a muffled sob from somewhere nearby—Adzriel perhaps, or Mydri. Seregil remained very still. Too still.

"You are no Aurenfaie, but a ya'shel khi," Brythir continued. "You are to us as the Tirfaie, an outlander, subject to the same restrictions and the same rights, but you have no claim of blood or kin among the people of Aura. Go with the Skalans and abide among them."

I expected something like this, Seregil told himself, trying not to sway as Brythir spoke the sentence. Why then did that one phrase—ya'shel khi—hurt so? The rhui'auros had called him that already, and he'd accepted it as a revelation. Spoken here, in front of his kin, the words cut like a hot knife. He thought he'd understood, but now the world seemed to be slipping out from under him. Exile he knew, but this severing went deeper.

"Go with the Skalans and abide among them," the ancient khirnari ordered.

Seregil's knees ached, but he managed to get to his feet without staggering. Pulling the Aurenfaie tunic over his head, he dropped it on the floor at his feet. "I accept the decision of the Iia'sidra, Honored One." His voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far outside himself. He was dimly aware of someone weeping—several people, in fact. He hoped he wasn't one of them.

He could barely feel his feet against the floor as he went to join the Skalans. Hands guided him to a chair and then Alec was beside him, wrapping a cloak around his shoulders.

The session ended quickly and the room emptied. Seregil pulled the cloak around him

and kept his eyes down as he followed Korathan out, not wishing to see the faces of other 'faie just yet. As they neared the door, however, the rhui'auros named Lhial stepped out and clasped him by the left hand. Stroking the dragon mark, he smiled warmly at Seregil. "Well done, little brother. Dance the dance and trust the Light."

It took Seregil a moment to recall that Lhial was dead, and by then the fellow was gone. A group of rhui'auros stood near the entrance, but the apparition was not among them. As he searched their faces, each one raised a hand in silent salute.

Dance the dance? He closed his eyes a moment, summoning a fragment of something Lhial had tried to tell him the first time he'd visited the Nha'mahat. Looking at you, I see all your births, all your deaths, all the works the Lightbearer has prepared for you. But time is a dance of many steps and missteps. Those of us who see must sometimes act.

I'm a blind man, dancing in the dark He thought of the last dream he'd had: the orbs melded into a pattern, and blood coursing down from a succession of weapons. The memory brought with it the same powerful sense of conviction that had overtaken him that night. The power of it straightened his spine and tugged the corner of his mouth up into a little half-smile.

Passing him, Lhaar a Iriel saw and gave him a scathing glare.

"Do not mock the mark you bear," she warned.

"You have my word, Khirnari," he promised, pressing his left hand to his heart. "I take what the Lightbearer sends."

Adzriel and Mydri clung to Seregil as they followed Klia's litter back to the guest house. Alec willingly gave place to them but stayed close, watching Seregil with growing concern.

Seemingly dazed, the man huddled in his borrowed cloak as if it were winter. What little Alec could feel of his friend's emotions was a whirl of confusion.

At least it was better than pure despair.

As soon as they were in the hall, safe from prying eyes, Klia summoned Seregil to her side and whispered to him. She was weeping now, too. Seregil knelt by the litter, bending to hear her. "It's all right," he told her.

"How can you say that?" Mydri demanded. "You heard what Brythir said; there was hope that the exile would have been lifted eventually."

Seregil swayed to his feet and headed for the stairs. "Later, Mydri. I'm tired."

"Stay with him," Thero murmured, but Alec was already on his way.

They climbed slowly to their room, Alec following a few steps behind. He wanted to reach out and steady Seregil, but something held him back. Reaching their chamber, Seregil shed the last of his clothing and burrowed under the covers. He was asleep almost instantly.

Alec stood beside the bed for a moment, listening to the soft, even breathing and wondering if it was exhaustion or despair he was witnessing. Whichever it was, sleep was probably as good a cure as any. Kicking off his boots, he stretched out beside Seregil, pulling him close through the blankets. Seregil muttered something and slept on.

Alec opened his eyes, surprised to find the room nearly dark and the other half of the bed empty. He sat up in alarm, then heard a familiar chuckle from the shadows near the hearth. A long form uncurled itself from one of the armchairs there and lit a candle from the coals.

"I didn't have the heart to wake you," Seregil said, coming to sit on the bed. He was dressed in the russet coat and breeches, and to Alec's relief, he was smiling. It was a real smile, fond and reassuring. "You've taken this harder than I have, tali," he said, ruffling Alec's hair.

"Is this what you had in mind when you decided to come back?" Alec asked, sitting up to search his friend's face for some sign of madness. How could he be so calm?

"Actually, I think things may have turned out better than I'd hoped, now that I've had a chance to consider. You heard what they said. I'm an outlander now."

"And that doesn't upset you?"

Seregil shrugged. "I haven't really been Aurenfaie for a long time. The Iia'sidra and the rhui'auros—they made me ya'shel khi when they sent me away so young. It was just something I clung to all those years. Remember when I finally got around to telling you that you were half 'faie and you said you didn't know who you were? Do you remember what I told you then?"

"No."

"I told you that you were the same person you'd always been."

"And you've always been ya'shel khi?"

"Maybe. I never quite fit here."

"Then you don't mind not being able to come back?"

"Ah, but don't you see? I'm not exiled anymore. Brythir changed all that. I'm one of you now, and can go wherever you go."

"Then if they do open Gedre—?"

"Exactly. And whenever they get around to lifting the Edict, which I have no doubt they will, I can go anywhere. I'm free, Alec. My name is my own to make and no one can call me Exile anymore."

Alec regarded him skeptically. "And you knew all this would happen, back there in the mountains?"

Seregil's smile tilted into a crooked grin. "Not a bit of it."

Seregil had a harder time swaying the others. Klia and Adzriel wept. Mydri retreated into sullen silence. Deep in his own heart, he still harbored doubts, but the words of the rhui'auros stayed with him: Dance the dance.

Fortunately, he had little time to dwell on it. There was still the matter of the vote, this time with Korathan heading the negotiations. Seregil was barred from the Iia'sidra chamber, but Alec and Thero kept him apprised of the progress over the next two days, or rather the lack of it.

"It's as if nothing changed," Alec groused as they sat down to a late supper. "The same arguments go round and round. You're not missing a thing."

Sitting home with Klia through the rest of that week, Seregil grew increasingly unsettled. The initial hope the rhui'auros had given him was wearing thin. For all his trouble, his part in the workings of power was over for now.

Or so he thought.

On the fifth day of negotiations, a young boy arrived at the door asking for Seregil. The lad wore no sen'gai and gave no name, simply handed him a folded square of parchment and walked away.

There was no one else around just then except the two Urgazhi standing guard on the steps below. As soon as he'd unfolded the packet, Seregil was glad of it. Inside he found the words "Cup of Aura tonight, alone, at moon's zenith" written in an elegant, familiar hand. There was also a token: a small tassel of red-and-blue silk.