Breakfast was being served as she entered the taproom. She went over and joined the table where her companions sat, eating. Sparhawk and the others looked up as she sat.

"Did you sort it out?" the big Pandion asked. Yuka nodded.

"I hope so. What's for breakfast?"

"I don't care," Berit muttered, "as long as it isn't cooked by Kalten." Yuka looked at him sympathetically.

"Is it all that bad?" she asked.

"No," Kalten said immediately. Khalad shot a glare at him.

"Yes," he corrected. Yuka giggled nervously. Just then the cook brought out a platter of food: eggs, strong coffee and bacon. Yuka wrinkled her nose and took a small plate of eggs.

"Styric prejudices," sighed Kalten, loading his plate. Yuka narrowed her eyes at him and picked at her food. She wouldn't touch bacon, and coffee made her sick. Altogether, she hated Elene food, but she wasn't going to offend her companions or the cook by saying it.

It was some time later when Bevier and Tynian arrived. The Deiran grinned at her, but Bevier resolutely avoided her gaze. As they sat down, she finished her food, whispered a goodbye and went to her room, slightly miserable. She had wanted to avoid confrontations or anything like that, and she hadn't really argued with anyone, but it seemed she had caused offence to the religious Cyrinic.

She lay on her back on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling and thinking. So when the dark room filled with a bright blue light, it cause her quite a fright. The terror faded when she heard a familiar voice.

"Sister," the voice said. "It is I, Damare. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you," she whispered.

"This is how I can contact you," Damare replied. "I sense unease in you and your companions. Is something wrong, sister?"

Yuka sighed, and explained sadly. The voice of Damare stayed silent for a second.

"Be careful of Sir Bevier, Yuka. I believe he is easily hurt. Try not to cause unnecessary pain."

"I- I don't know what you're talking about, sister…" Yuka whispered. Damare sighed.

"You will do, Yuka. Listen- he is ashamed of what happened last night, but he is not good with apologies. I believe he thinks you dislike him now. Please be nice, dear sister."

"I will, Lady," Yuka said softly.

"Good girl. I'm glad you reached Chyrellos safely. If you have any trouble, contact me using this necklace. I will aid you all I can, dear one. I must go. Good luck, Yuka."

"Goodbye, Damare," Yuka replied, and the blue light faded and was gone.

Just in time, too. There was a knock on her door, and she sat up quickly, tucking the necklace back inside her robes. "Yes?" she called. "Come in."

Khalad popped his head around the door. "Sparhawk says we're leaving in a few minutes, if you feel ready."

"I'm ready," she said quickly, hopping off the bed and going to the door. Khalad moved out of the way for her to pass.

"The others are out saddling the horses," he said, following her down the stairs. "Did you have enough to eat?"

"Yes, Khalad," she replied impatiently. "Don't you start clucking over me like a mother hen. I've had enough of that from…" She stopped, one hand to her mouth. Khalad didn't press her.

"I'm sorry," she said after a long pause, broken only by their footsteps. "I didn't mean to lose my temper."

"Don't worry, Yuka," he replied, a hand on her shoulder. "I know you well enough not to take offence at what you say- you never mean it." She turned and smiled at him.

"Thanks," she said.

"No charge," he answered. "Go on, hurry up. The others are waiting."

Their companions had finished saddling the horses by the time they reached the stables.

"What took you so long?" Kalten said grumpily. Yuka noticed that Bevier still avoided her gaze.

"We were talking," she replied distractedly, taking her white saddle from the wall. Her good-natured horse stood still while she saddled her, and only trod on Yuka's foot once.

When they were ready, they rode out. They took the east gate, which was the nearest, rather than riding through the streets of Chyrellos, and rode on the road around the Holy City. They moved at a steady pace, not too fast so as not to tire the horses too quickly. Yuka decided she had to break the wall between her and Bevier. She slowed a little so he came up beside her.

"How far is it to the Zemoch border?" she asked, as conversationally and in as friendly a tone as she could.

"About three hundred and fifty leagues," he replied flatly.

"Oh. Quite a way, then."

"Indeed." There was an awkward pause.

"That's an evil looking axe," she said hesitantly, looking at his deadly Lochaber in the sling at the side of his saddle. "It must decapitate someone just like that," she snapped her fingers.

"It does," he replied, his voice no less flat. "You're much more bloodthirsty than the Lady Sephrenia was."

"Maybe I am," she mused. "I'm just not so averted to death as she is. I'm sort of used to it."

There was another long silence. Yuka hated uncomfortable pauses like that.

"So… um… What's it like- being a novice in the Cyrinic order? M-my youngest brother is wanting to start his novitiate. He's half-Styric, like me, but he worships the Elene God and he looks more Elene than me."

"It's generally less religious than the other orders," Bevier replied quietly. "It's hard work. They work you very hard. It took me two years longer than the other boys my age to get my knighthood." He fell silent. Yuka felt slightly embarrassed. It was clearly an uncomfortable topic for him.

"This is good road for the horses," she contemplated, almost to herself.

"It's a bit gravelly," Bevier replied. He didn't say anything else. With one hand, Yuka absently fiddled with her necklace.

"I'm only half-Styric," she said quietly. "It's been bothering me for a while. What if I can't touch the rings because of my Elene blood?"

"Are you more Styric than Elene?" he asked.

"My mother was Styric. My father was… he was half-Styric, now I think of it… at least half Elene, though."

"Then you're three-quarters Styric," he said. "I don't think you'll have much trouble." There was a tiny amount of doubt in his voice. She was more worried than she made out, too.

Yuka knew what was coming, and it did: another long silence. She was relieved when Kalten called to her from the front of the group. She rode forward to catch up.

"Yes, Kalten?"

"Can you settle this debate for us? Moon-face here thinks the First Ring is at the foot of a whirlpool in a bay somewhere. I say it's in a lake somewhere. Help?" Tynian looked hopeful, too. Yuka sighed.

"I don't really know, you two. Lady Damare told me that the First Ring hated salt water- so I think you're right, Kalten. Sorry, Tynian." The Deiran laughed good-humouredly.

"Ah, well, I can't be right all the time. We'll see when we get there, though." Yuka had a flash of inspiration.

"Why don't we ask Bevier? Didn't he do a study of history? Surely that'd include the history of the Rings?"

"Good idea, Yuka," Kalten said. He called the young Arcian up and explained the debate. Bevier thought, looking slightly uncomfortable at Yuka's presence.

"From what I've studied, the First Ring hates salt water. I think Kalten's right, for once. Of course, no one's really sure."

"Three against one, Tynian," Kalten said triumphantly. "I win."

"It wasn't a competition," Tynian grinned. He pulled out a map. "From the looks of this, the only big lake in the country is Lake Verka. We'll be heading there, I guess."

"I suppose so…" Yuka whispered sadly, letting her horse drop behind slightly. She had made the effort, at least.