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  "I got a man who swears he saw him possibly as close as Corinth ten days ago. He saw the Darkwind's handiwork about eight months ago over by where Norus Keep used to stand, and he says he knows it's the same man."

  "He's good," Legion quipped, wondering about this hero called the Raven. "I'll give him that."

  "Another shipment of gold destined for the main temple was taken three nights ago near Colsaurus. As always, they found a red-tipped feather at the scene. To date, that makes sixty-four thousand gold pieces taken this year alone. I don't have any figures from late last year, the time the man began plundering Temple coffers." Marsh looked at his King. "That's a lot of gold, though, Legion."

  "What could he be doing with it all?"

  "Well, there's been no trace of any of it found. He'll be a wealthy man if this keeps up, and we'll be starving in the streets trying to pay it all back to Tohre."

  "Maybe the money isn't for him," Liza said softly.

  Legion turned a baleful eye to Marsh. "My wife and sons see this man as a champion of the people. She keeps telling me what he seems to be doing is for the good of our people. Her romanticism is catching. I've heard other people hinting in just the same way."

  Liza laid down her knitting and fixed her husband with a steady gaze. "How do you explain the Spiel's being able to keep their farm from the tax man, Legion? They didn't have money one day and the next they come up with five hundred silvers? Or what about the Illion winery in Chale? That family has owned those orchards for more than a hundred years. It was about to be confiscated for overdue tariffs on their wine, then somehow the tariffs got paid." Her chin rose. "Paid, I might add, in the tax office some two hundred miles from Jaiu. And what of the other similar instances in Ionary and Virago? I heard only yester morn that a home for indigents was saved from sale by a mysterious back payment of taxes. That was in my homeland. If you can't find the money this man is stealing, how do you explain the things I just mentioned?"

  "You think he's giving the money to those who have need of it?" Teal du Mer asked as he strolled through the library door into the garden. He turned a sour expression to Legion. "I got tired of waiting for you!"

  "Kingly duties, du Mer," Legion quipped. "I'm seeing to my Kingly duties."

  Teal arched a thick, dark brow, but kept his thoughts to himself. He looked at Liza. "So you believe the Darkwind is behind all these latest re-payments of taxes?"

  "I think the man's doing everything he can to fight Kaileel Tohre." She shrugged. "And for that, I thank him."

  Teal laughed at her militant expression. "You may be right, Milady. A while ago, a heavily armed group of guards were set upon near Lilst, where they held a score of young women destined for sacrifice in the Temple. Not one of the Temple Guards remained alive. The women were freed, unharmed, but not before one of them got a good look at the man who led the rescuers. He had the same black outfit, mask and all, as all the other sightings of him. But I also learned he was spotted in Virago, Oceania, and Ionary on the same day."

  "There could be five men calling themselves the Darkwind," Liza said.

  "Even so," Marsh said, "there has to be one man leading it all. If that's the case, that would mean a well-organized resistance."

  "How do you fight a man like that?" Legion asked.

  "You don't," Liza said, looking at him. "You help him."

  "Liza…" Legion began, but she held up her hand.

  "Think about it, Milord. If this man can do the miraculous things he has been accused of doing, can we not look the other way if his fight is with Tohre? Can't our men be a little slower in getting to a place we think him to be? Can't we hinder the guards when they set traps for him?" She flung her long, black braid over her shoulder and placed tiny fists on her shapely hips. "We haven't been able to do one damned thing to help our people since Tohre took over. Now that someone else is doing it for us, doesn't it shame you into wanting to help him?" Her green eyes came alight with an inner fire. Legion had not seen her look that way in years. Not since Brelan had left for the Labyrinth six years earlier.

  "We don't know for a certainty he is fighting Tohre," Teal said. "It only appears that way. He could be just another mercenary lining his pockets with Temple gold." Teal shrugged as he made his next point. "He could even be working for Tohre."

  "Stupid man!" Liza hissed. "Doesn't that alone tell you anything, du Mer? It's Temple gold he steals, not merchant, not seaman, not artisan. He doesn't take from farmers or builders or winery workers. He doesn't take from anyone who was loyal to the rebellion years ago, but you know damned well he stole a shipment of dress material from that greedy, old Chalean who helped Tohre's men sneak into Tyne Brell's palace! And what happened to that material, I ask you? Would a mercenary have need of dress material?"

  "No, but the orphans at Ghurn got new uniforms a few months ago," Marsh answered quietly.

  "Precisely!" Liza snapped. "He takes only from the Tribunal and Temple coffers and from those who collaborated with Tohre and the Domination. Why do you suppose no villager will give you information about him? Could it be he's helping them and they are protecting him?"

  "She's right," Marsh agreed. "Every time we ask, everyone suddenly turns mute and deaf. The only people who give any news of him are Temple Guards and the like who ran away when they saw him coming."

  "Or those women who were saved from the sacrificial slabs," Teal added. "They were positively mooning over him. Said he spoke to them, kissed one's hand, and bid them have a safe journey back to their homes."

  "If he was a mercenary," Liza said, her voice alive with fire, "he might well have taken one of those girls with him, might he not?"

  Legion shook his head. "I don't know, Liza."

  "I would have." Teal grinned.

  "So, you think the people are hiding him from us?" Marsh asked.

  "Of course. They're hiding their champion," she said, "and they will continue to do so."

  "That's a dangerous game," Legion warned. "People could lose their lives for protecting him."

  "I don't think the Darkwind would let anything happen to his people. If it came down to him or them, he'd give himself up."

  Legion stared at his wife. "You're a dreamer, girl! No man would give his life for this country in this day and age!"

  "You are wrong, Legion A'Lex!" she shot back. "I believe this man would. If I ever get the chance, I know I will help him!"

  She called her children, Gezelle's, and the three or four others that were playing in the garden. She scooted them ahead of her into the library, but before following them, she fixed Teal du Mer with an appraising look.

  "When you join his forces, and I know that's what you've been trying to do, tell him the Queen of Serenia sends him her best wishes."

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  Kaileel Tohre slammed the report down on his desk and turned to Robert MacCorkingdale. "How the hell do you lose a wagonload of women?" His ice-blue eyes narrowed with scorn. "And fifteen well-armed guards?"

  Robert leveled his gaze at the Arch-Prelate. "They were ambushed, Holiness."

  Tohre stood, placed his hands on the desk, and stared hard into MacCorkingdale's face. "Did you say ambushed?"

  High Priest MacCorkingdale looked away. It wasn't that he was afraid of Tohre, he just didn't like looking into the old man's wrinkled face. "We did not sense anything was going to happen. We thought we had the wagon train well protected.

  "You didn't!" Tohre bellowed. He swept his arm across the desktop, scattering the contents to the floor. "Get out of here, you bumbling fool!"

  Robert's chin came up. By the seed of Raphian, he hated this man! But he kept his face carefully correct, his bow reserved and respectful enough for Tohre not to notice his own livid rage. He turned to go. "I promise you, we will find him, Holiness!"

  "If the bastard doesn't find you first, you worthless dog!" Tohre shouted, throwing a paperweight at the retreating High Priest.

  * * *

  When the
door shut firmly behind MacCorkingdale, Tohre spun around, his attention going to the young boy seated across the room. "Come here!"

  The eight-year-old walked to Tohre's desk. He clasped his hands in front of him. "How may I serve you, Master?"

  "Pick up this mess," Tohre instructed, flinging a hand to the array of papers and quills on the floor.

  As the lad knelt to do his bidding, Tohre's vision swept over the bright blond curls covering the boy's head and falling just to his thin shoulders. He looked at the proud profile, the chiseled lips, and the slight cleft forming in the strong-looking chin. His regard moved over thick, tawny brows and high cheekbones, gauged the boy's latest height and weight.

  "You look more like your father every day," Tohre said wistfully and was rewarded with the boy's immediate attention. The boy's eyes became frightened, anticipation glowing in the sky-blue depths. "You have his same look about you, Corbin."

  * * *

  Corbin McGregor straightened up. He placed some of the papers on Tohre's desk, his hands trembling violently, then turned to retrieve more, but the Arch-Prelate's chill words stopped him.

  "Come to me, Corbin."

  The boy swallowed and turned his gaze back to Tohre's unholy face. What he saw made him groan inwardly with despair.

  With heart hammering painfully in his thin chest, he took a step toward the man's chair.

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  He didn't like this.

  He damned well didn't like it at all.

  Everyone was looking at him as though he was the entree for that night's supper.

  He turned his head as far as the gag would allow, but winced when the ropes cut into his wrists, which were bound and tied above his head.

  Hanging like a piece of curing meat! he thought in disgust.

  Four men entered the stable, all of them bigger than him. They looked rough and dirty beneath the great capes they wore to shut out the harsh chill of Viragonian winter. And, beneath their ragged beards, they looked angry. One, somewhat smaller than the others, came toward him, drawing off his heavy, fur-lined, leather gloves.

  "Heard you want to meet up with the Darkwind?" A rough, callused hand grabbed the prisoner's chin. "What for?"

  Through his gag, Teal du Mer could only mumble. Sweat dripped down his sides, and his arms strained out of their sockets as he hung from a crossbeam. These men, filthy and rank-smelling, didn't seem the sort who would play fair in a card game, and they scared the hell out of him. One near the door seemed to be giving him a close scrutiny.

  "The Darkwind don't want no fools on his payroll," the man gripping Teal's chin scoffed. "Any man of his that would get caught and strung up like you don't live long in the Wind Force! But maybe that's what you was looking for, eh? Got a death wish, gypsy?"

  Laughter rang out when the man started Teal's body swinging against his bonds. A grimace of pain shot over du Mer's gagged face; tears came into his eyes as the hemp cut into his wrists.

  "How do you expect the man to answer with that rag in his trap, Thrush?" the man by the door asked.

  "Don't reckon he needs to talk none, Hawk. We can gut him and be done with it. He's one of the King's men, anyway."

  Hawk pushed away from the door. The light in the barn was murky at best and he seemed to want a better look at Teal. As he drew near, he pulled off his gloves and swirled the cape from his wide shoulders. He handed the woolen covering to one of the others. "Maybe we should interrogate him before we think of killing him, if he is, indeed, one of A'Lex's men."

  "Ain't no doubt!" Thrush snarled. "I seen him all cozy-like with the King and his whelps that day I told you A'Lex was fishing over to Ivor. This bastard is as close as they come to the King."

  "Well, let's question him first," Hawk repeated.

  Teal sent a grateful look to the man. There was something oddly familiar about his voice, but Teal was too frightened to think.

  "Ah, hell, Hawk!" Thrush complained. "What can this dimpled darling tell us? He's a gypsy! You know they don't tell no truths!"

  Teal drew in a harsh breath, knowing well the feelings most mercenaries had for gypsies. He watched as Hawk, obviously the leader of the quartet, came to stand directly before him.

  "Take off his gag," he told Thrush in a voice that brooked no argument. Or comment.

  Thrush mumbled under his breath, but untied the rag covering Teal's mouth.

  Teal licked his dry lips and swallowed, breathed a sigh of relief. He nodded at Hawk. "My thanks, sir. I am in your debt."

  The leader squinted. "Who are you?"

  "I am du Mer. I am with the King's personal guard, but I have left him in the hopes of joining the fight against Kaileel Tohre."

  "He's lying," one of the others scoffed. "I say we kill him!"

  "Please," Teal begged Hawk. "Will you at least hear me out? What danger am I to you?"

  "You could have led men to us!" Thrush snapped.

  Teal looked at the man. "You'd have seen men lurking about if that were the case." He turned back to Hawk. "I came alone. Honest!"

  Hawk stared at him a long time, the look steady and evaluating. "Cut him down."

  "What?" Thrush exploded. "He knows our hidey-hole!"

  "I said to cut him down!" The bark was curt and hard as steel.

  Reluctantly, Thrush severed the rope. Teal dropped to the ground with a thud, his bound wrists throbbing and his ankles, tied together with rawhide, aching from the tight constriction. A hard gush of air drove from his lungs as his numb legs buckled and he crashed to his knees. He shook his head to clear away the pain, then looked up at the leader. "Again, thank you."

  "Leave me alone with him," Hawk demanded of his men.

  "You're joking!" Thrush hissed.

  "Do I look like I'm joking?"

  "I hope you know what you're doing. If you don't, the Darkwind will have your balls, Hawk!"

  When the three men left the stable, Teal breathed a sigh of deliverance. "I don't think they like me."

  "They don't know you well enough to dislike you, du Mer," the leader scoffed. "Give 'em time!" He reached behind his back and drew out a wicked-looking, double-edged dagger.

  "There's no need for that. I wasn't even armed when I rode in here."

  Although Hawk likely saw the fear on Teal's face, he ignored it. "That was a singularly stupid thing to do, don't you think? Coming into a heavily armed camp with no weapon?"

  Teal shrugged. "I've done even more stupid things, I guess."

  The leader bent over and sliced through the ropes on Teal's wrist with a quick, effective sweep of the lethal-looking blade. Re-sheathing his dagger, he sat on a bale of hay and watched Teal chafing his rope-burned wrists.

  "I'm no spy," Teal said as he turned his attention to the rawhide around his ankles.

  "No, I'd say you were sent by Legion A'Lex to infiltrate our force and report back to him what you could learn about the Darkwind. You would be the logical choice for him to send."

  Teal eyed the man. "You know our King?"

  "I did once." The man sniffed. "He was a good man. Once. I guess he's done all he could for our people, but it wasn't enough. He has a lot to lose if he helps too much."

  "You're Serenian, then?"

  The man's heavily-bearded face seemed to turn sad. "I have no homeland, anymore, Teal. The Tribunal took that away years ago. I owe my allegiance to the Darkwind."

  Teal tensed. He hadn't told the man his first name, but he wasn't surprised the man knew it. If they knew about his association with Legion, they knew his name. But the man sitting before him seemed awfully familiar and Teal stared at him a long time. "Do I know you?"

  A deep chuckle came from Hawk. "You thought you knew me. Look a little closer, Teal. Tell me what you see behind this beard."

  Teal stood, wincing as the blood returned to his toes. He walked to the man and peered down at his upturned face.

  Blue eyes gazed up at him with laughter. Lips underneath the beard twitched with either
mockery or humor. The dark brown hair was thick and wavy, just enough gray running through it to make the color even more interesting, and the brows, so like his own bushy growths, were cocked in…

  With a suddenness that made him gasp, Teal knew. He took a step backward. "Roget?" he whispered, his voice incredulous.

  "In the rather rank flesh, little brother." Hawk chuckled as he stood up, only a few inches from his brother's stunned face. "If you can stand the smell of me, I might give you a hug."

  For a moment, Teal could only stare at the beloved face he had waited half a lifetime to see again. "Brelan Saur said you were out of the Labyrinth, but when you didn't send word, didn't try to come home, I thought something might have happened." Tears formed in his eyes. "I thought you might be dead."

  "Brelan is on his way to Boreas Keep tonight. It'll be his first time home in four years. I know there will be a happy reunion this eve."

  "No happier than the one right here, right now!" Teal fell into his brother's arms. The tears of a little boy who had been torn from his big brother so many years before came rushing up to choke him.

  "Why haven't you sent news to us?" Teal asked a few minutes later as he and his brother sat in the stable.

  "The Darkwind would have been compromised. Originally he sent Brelan home to tell Legion everybody was safe and out of that hell-hole." Darkness passed over Roget's face. "Everyone except Hern, of course. He's buried on a farm outside Ciona. But when Brelan got back to Serenia, he couldn't find a way to get to Legion without Tohre learning of it. He was able to get messages through after Hesar's men were in place inside the palace, but he didn't dare show himself at Boreas."

  "But why? Tohre knew Legion had sent Brelan there as Chief Warden. All he had to do was report back to Legion and let Tohre think his time was up at the Labyrinth."

  Roget looked away. "There was a good reason why, but I can't tell you. Just let it suffice to say that had Brelan shown up at the palace, Darkwind's identity would have been compromised."