«Ellysetta.» Rain reached for her, then realized his block was still in place. He tore the weave down and tried again. His heart stopped. He could not sense her.

Bel groaned and picked himself up off the ground. His ears rang and his vision was blurry from the force of his head cracking against the stones that paved the narrow courtyard.

Let that be a lesson to you, Belliard vel Jelani. When the Feyreisa says leave her alone, listen to her.

Grimacing, he shook his head and leaned over for an instant until the dizziness passed. Ellysetta's thrust of Air had been quick and brutal, plowing into him like the whip of a tairen's tail, flinging him across the courtyard and slamming him into the wall on the far side.

It had been stupid of him to grab her. A boy who had yet to pass his first level in the Dance of Knives would know better.

«Be!? » Rain's voice whipped at the insides of Bel's aching skull. «What's happening? I can no longer sense Ellysetta. »

«She's here with me.» He glanced at the spot where she should have been, and froze.

Ellysetta was gone.

A mile from his prey's house, when he was certain he was clear of detection by Fey sentries, Gaelen released the weave that hid his presence. He slumped against a wall, gasping as sweat rolled down his face. The sel'dor shrapnel burned like live coals in his flesh. He was spent, with nothing left to keep him standing but sheer force of will.

He didn't even have the strength to hold his torment in check. Though he wasn't fully broadcasting his pain, too much of it was slipping though his mental barriers. The warriors wouldn't sense it. Empathy was solely a Fey woman's gift, or curse, as was more often the case.

Marissya, forgive me.

She would know he was here. She had to feel him by now, and the pain would grow worse the longer he remained. He had to get to the Velpin, restore what strength he had left, and kill the High Mage's daughter before the Fey could find and slay him.

Pushing himself away from the wall, he started off again. He followed the Velpin's sweet scent unerringly through a maze of narrow cobbled roads and alleys, each shambling step bringing him closer to the promise of relief until, at last, the street opened to a grassy park and a tree-lined embankment overlooking the river. Stone steps led down to a ledge where the local women could do their wash.

Clutching at the wall, he eased his battered body down the steps. But he was too tired, his strength sapped. His dragging feet tangled. He tripped on the last step and toppled forward, plunging into the river. His head struck the side of the ledge, and his ironic last thought as the water closed over him was that at least the stench would be gone when his body was brought to Marissya.

Why was she standing in the middle of the West End's river park in her nightshift?

Ellysetta turned in small, dazed circles, stunned by the fee] of the soft grass beneath her feet and the cool night breeze, fresh with the scent of the river, on her face. The last thing she remembered was the initial warning pangs of a seizure, the strange double vision that had made her sick, and the terrible thirst.

She pressed a hand to her heart, frowning. She didn't feel the same as she usually did after an episode of demon possession. Her head ached-that was typical-but her body ached too, a hundred burning pains like tiny hot pellets scattered beneath her skin. She closed her eyes, and unfamiliar images flashed in her mind. Tall, waving grass, two girls racing towards her, laughing, arms outstretched. One looked like the shei'dalin Marissya, but younger. The other was oddly familiar as well, and the sight of her bright, pale eyes and happy smile made Ellie's heart swell with joy. Then the scene changed to something horrible.

Ellie's eyes snapped open and she fell to her knees, sobbing.

«Rain, help me!» The call was as much instinct as conscious thought.

«Ellysetta! Where are you? »

Relief nearly left her prostrate as the reassuring sound of his voice filled her mind. By the river, in the park near my home. «Something's happening to me.» She flinched as more images crowded her mind. «I'm afraid. »

«Stay there. I'm coming. »

«Hurry. »

As fast as my wings can fly, shei’tani.”

From the river, she heard a faint splashing, a weak cough, and she crawled forward on her hands and knees, pulled towards the source of the sounds like steel to a lodestone. «There's someone here. By the river. I've got to-»

«Nei! Stay where you are. »

Dimly she heard the fierce roar of a tairen, saw a gout of flame scorch the night sky in the distance. But it was the dark figure in the water that claimed her attention, overriding her will and pulling her inexorably to his side. A man. As she stumbled nearer, she could see the cuff of his black tunic caught on a mooring hook, could feel his grim desperation as he struggled to keep from drowning in the river's steady current.

«It's a man. He's hurt. In pain ... oh, gods, so much pain.» There was no way she could pull him out of the water. The best she could do would be to free his arm from the mooring hook and pull him to the relative safety of the embankment steps. She grabbed the dark-clad arm, surprised to feel leather beneath her fingertips. Celierian didn't wear leather tunics. That was when she saw the glint of steel flashing beneath the surface of the water. Blades crisscrossing a leather-clad chest. «He's Fey!»

«Get away from him! Don't touch him!»

«He's got to be one of yours. He's wounded. Bleeding.» Grasping the man's arm with both hands, Ellie planted her feet and pulled the dead weight of his body out of the main river current to the stone steps leading down into the water. "It's all right," she murmured aloud. "You're safe. We'll get you help." She reached out to turn him on his side. His head lifted. Piercing blue eyes, pale as ice, stared up at her, glowing faintly.