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She looked at Qurong. “You're going to let this man suggest that I helped the albinos escape?”

“It doesn't matter if I'm going to allow it. He's already done it.”

“And you believe him? The albino wanted to dream so that he could better read the Books, which in part depend on dreaming. Naturally, I let him dream. Is this a crime?”

She knew! It was the only reason she would have for confessing this so quickly! She was trying to sound innocent, but the whore in her was showing clearly enough.

“You instructed the guards not to make him eat the fruit?” Qurong asked.

“Yes. He's my servant, and I thought it would assist him in his duties.”

“And would those duties include holding your hand and whispering tenderly in your ear?” Woref demanded.

She seemed to pale, even with the morst on her face. “How dare you?”

“You deny it?” Qurong asked.

“Of course she'll deny it! But I know what I saw with my own eyes when I found them in the library, alone. If it had been anyone other than my own woman, I would have killed both of them.”

Qurong was beyond himself. “Is this true, Chelise?”

“That I have fallen in love with an albino? How utterly preposterous! Thomas is a reasonable teacher who can read the Books of Histories, but it's no reason to call me a whore!” She looked at the supreme leader. “Father, I demand you withdraw your consent for me to marry this man immediately. I'll have nothing to do with him until he withdraws his slander and apologizes.”

Woref 's head swam in fury. He'd never been treated with such dis- dain. Perhaps he'd misjudged this woman after all. She might be harder to break than he'd first imagined.

And this is why you are so desperate for her.

“Then you deny any favor for Thomas of Hunter,” Qurong said.

“The fact that my father has to ask such a question makes me wonder who he's been listening to.”

“A yes or no would do, child!”

“Of course I don't favor the albino.”

For a long moment the roof was silent.

“Leave us,” Qurong said.

Chelise glared at Woref and left.

“You said you can prove this connection between them?” Qurong demanded.

“Yes, my lord. I can.”

“You've put yourself in a dangerous position, you do realize?”

“Dangerous only if I'm wrong. I'm not.”

Qurong sighed. “Then tell me how.”

“If I'm right, then I want your word that Chelise will be mine with no restrictions.”

The leader lifted an eyebrow. “She will be yours when you marry. What else could you want?”

I want to teach her who her master is,
Woref wanted to say.
I want to
break a bone or two so that she never forgets who I am.

Instead he bowed his head. “I want her hand in marriage without any further restrictions.”

Qurong faced the railing and looked south again. “Agreed. Your plan?”

“We still have the albino we took captive two months ago in the deep dungeons. Set him free to find the albinos with a message that if Thomas doesn't turn himself in within three days' time, Qurong, supreme leader of the Horde, will drown his daughter, Chelise, for treason against the throne.”

Qurong glanced at him, but only for a moment. “Thomas of Hunter would never be such a fool. Even if he was, I could never drown my own daughter.”

“You won't have to. If I'm right, Thomas will return. That will be my proof.”

“You're not thinking straight. He would never risk his life for a woman he hardly knows.”

“Unless she has seduced him.”

The supreme leader glared.

“Then test me,” Woref said.

“And if he doesn't come?”

“Then you will sign her death over to me. I will take her as a wife and forgive her in my own way. If I betray my word, then you may kill me yourself.”

Qurong looked thoughtful for the first time since Woref had made the suggestion. “So even if you're wrong, you end up with my daughter? What's at stake for you?”

“My honor! If I'm wrong, my honor will be restored by my marriage to Chelise. If I'm right, my honor will be restored by the death of Thomas.”

“What if Thomas never receives the message?”

“We'll send one warrior with the albino to return with his answer. At the same time we will conduct the single largest hunt for the tribe that escaped us in the Southern Forest. The tribe is without Thomas and Martyn and other leaders and will be vulnerable.”

“Unless Thomas returns to them.”

“He won't. Not if I'm right.”

Qurong mulled the plan over in his mind, but the lights were already flashing in his eyes.

“They were touching when you saw them in the library?”

Woref spit over the railing. “I saw them.”

Qurong grunted. “She always was headstrong. We will keep this quiet. You have your agreement. I'm not sure whether to pray that you're right or that you're wrong. Either way you seem to win.”

“I've lost already,” Woref said. “I saw what no man should ever have to see.”

The route they'd been forced to travel had slowed them through the day. Not so long ago, sight of the desert had always filled Thomas with an uneasiness. This was where battles were fought and men killed. This was where the enemy lived. Justin's drowning had reversed their roles, and the desert had become their home.

But as Thomas led the group of eight out of the forest along the lip of the same canyon where they'd once trapped and slaughtered forty thousand of the Horde, he felt the same underlying dread he'd once felt leaving the trees.

He stopped his horse by a catapult that had been torched by the Horde. This was the first time since the great battle of the Natalga Gap that he'd revisited the scene. Tufts of grass now grew on the ledge where black powder had blasted huge chunks of the cliff into the canyon below, crushing Scabs like ants.

Johan nudged his mount to the lip and gazed at the canyon floor. He hadn't led the Horde army that day, but their attack had been his plan.

Thomas eased up next to him. The rubble was still piled high. Birds and animals had long ago picked the dead clean where they could dislodge the battle armor. From this vantage point, the remains of the Horde army looked like a dumping ground for armory, scattered by strong winds and faded by the sun.

“Thank goodness the Horde hasn't figured out how to make black powder,” Johan said.

“They've been trying. They know the ingredients, but besides me, only William and Mikil know the proportions. Give them a few more months—they'll stumble on it eventually.”

The others had pulled close to the lip and were peering over. Thomas looked back at the forest, nearly a mile behind them now. It appeared dark in the sinking sun, an appropriate contrast to the red canyon lands that butted up against it. The black Horde holed up in their prison while the Circle roamed free in their sea of red.

But something deep in the black forest called to him. An image of Chelise drifted through his mind. Her white face and gray eyes, gazing longingly at the Books of Histories. He had only shrugged when the others questioned him about his prolonged silence during the flight from the Horde city—he wasn't sure why he felt so miserable himself. They were thinking he was sober over his use of force, and he had half-convinced himself that they were right.

Still, he knew it was more. He knew it was Chelise.

Thomas turned his horse from the canyon and walked it slowly along the rocky plateau. The others talked quietly, reminiscing, but another horse followed him—Mikil probably. Kara. They had work to do.

“So there's no doubting now, Kara,” he said. “Which is more real to you? Here or there?”

“I wouldn't know.” He turned. It was Suzan. She glanced at the forest.

“I thought you were Mikil.”

“You're distracted. It's more than the escape, isn't it?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because I was the one who suggested it in the first place. I think it worked.”

“It was a good plan. Maybe I should give you command over one of our divisions.” He grinned. But he knew she wasn't talking about the plan.

“I'm not talking about keeping us alive. I'm talking about winning the trust of Chelise.”

“Yes, well, that was good too.”

“I think maybe she won your trust as well.”

He looked at Suzan in the waning light. Her darker skin was smooth and rich. He knew several who'd courted her without success. She was both cautious and wise. There was no fooling her. Suzan would make any man a stunning wife.

“Maybe,” he said.

“I want you to know that I don't think it's a bad thing.”

“Trust is one thing, Suzan,” he said quietly, not entirely sure why he was telling her this. “Anything more smacks of sacrilege. I would never go there. You understand that, don't you?”

She waited for a moment. “Of course.”

“Justin calls the Horde, and so we do as well. You could call it love. But an albino such as myself and a Horde woman . . .”

“Impossible.”

“Disgusting.”

“I don't know how you put up with the smell in the library for three days,” she agreed.

“It was horrible.”

“Horrible.”

“Where are we camping?” Mikil asked, trotting up behind.

“In the canyon,” Thomas said. “In one of the protected alcoves, away from the bodies. The Horde will steer clear of their dead.”

“Then we should go. We have to bring Johan up to speed and get back.”

No campfire. No warm clothes. No bedrolls other than the three brought by Mikil, Jamous, and Johan. Only sand.

Thomas shivered and tried to focus on the next task at hand. Johan.

They sat in a circle of eight, but the conversation was among the three who spoke of dreams. The others listened with a mixture of fascination and, he suspected, some incredulity. The fact that Mikil had known precisely where Thomas was kept them all from expressing their lingering reservation.

It was rather like the drowning—only the experience itself could ultimately turn one into a believer.

Johan stood and paced the perimeter. “Let me summarize this for you, Mikil, so that you can hear just how . . . unique it is. You're saying that if I cut myself and Thomas cuts himself, and we fall asleep with our blood mixed, that I will share his dreams.”

“Not his dreams,” Mikil said. “His dream world.”

“Whatever. His dream world, then. I will hopefully wake up as a man named Carlos because he's made some connection with me earlier, and he thinks he may be me.”

“Something like that,” Thomas said. “We're not saying we know how it works exactly. But you know that Kara and Mikil had the same experience. For all we know, all of us could have the same experience. For some reason, I am the link to another reality. Another dimension. I'm the only gateway that we know of. If I don't dream, no one dreams. Only life, skill, and knowledge are transferable. Which is what happened to the blank Book.”

“It disappeared into your dream world because Mikil wrote in it,” Johan said.

“Yes. And if I'm right, the rest of the blank Books went with it.”

“You saw them there?”

“No, only the one that I can be sure of. It's a hunch.”

Johan sighed.

“Please, Johan,” Mikil said. “Our future may depend on you. You have to do this.”

“I'm not saying I won't. If you insist, I'd let you use a pint of my blood. But that doesn't mean I have to believe.”

“You will believe, trust me,” Thomas said. “Now sit. There's more.”

Johan glanced around at the others, then seated himself.

They had to be careful what they told Johan about the situation in Washington. He might accidentally plant knowledge in Carlos's mind. And they couldn't risk tipping their hand in the event Carlos refused to play along.