(A/N – Well, this has to be the quickest update I've ever managed. Must be because of those lovely reviews….

VercisIsolde – Wow. That little syllable summed up my thoughts when I saw your review. My physical response was less eloquent, being more of a strangled 'pfftl' as I almost sprayed the monitor with a mouthful of lager. Tickled pink, happy as a clam, over the moon; just some of the idioms I could use to describe my deep joy at your fabulous review. Needless to say, I'm very glad you gave my story a second chance and ploughed through what is apparently now the longest WoT fic. (a dubious accolade, no doubt) on FF. And in one sitting [is aghast]. Kudos to you for being spot-on about that certain blonde individual – he has something of a shady past. I'm hoping that will at least partially explain his occasional erratic outburst. And about the love triangle thing – it's coming along slowly, although I think it's more of an isosceles than an equilateral triangle at the moment (and they said I was no good at maths – in your face, geometry!). I'll definitely keep working on it though. Thanks again for the wonderful review. Big smiles. :D

Virago – I feel deep pain at the thought of your afternoon meeting. Luckily, I'm far too menial to attend such gatherings in my hell-hole/work-place, leaving me plenty of free time to abuse the system (hurrah!). No problems that the review was short and sweet – I'm always glad to receive them, no matter how wee. Nice dance, btw.

I like to sub-title this chapter 'The One Where Something Actually Happens' (No, not in that way. Get your minds out of the gutter, folks). It will also be the last update for a while as I have a busy few weeks ahead. Hope you enjoy this instalment and thanks once more to VercisIsolde and Virago for the reviews. )

Disclaimer - It wasn't me, guv. Honest.

Chapter Seventeen

In the end, they had all but carried her from the wagon, lips stretched in painted smiles.

'Oh, don't be such a prude child.'

'Tilly's right, Mai. You'll have a wonderful time.'

'Now, just a dab of perfume....'

'…pinch her cheeks, Tilly; she's white as goosedown....'

'…a touch more oil perhaps….'

'...that ribbon looks so pretty with your eyes….'

'…a smile wouldn't hurt….'

'...yes, do smile, Mai….'

Smile. Her last attempt had slid into something just shy of a grimace. Cheeriness wasn't easy when some fool dress was strangling your waist, hugging your hips and only a wisp of shawl stood between dignity and a plummeting bodice. What could be worse than an evening spent hardly daring to breathe and wrestling skirts to stop an ankle from peeping? Not that her companions seemed to share her qualms. Hips lilting to some mysterious rhythm, their proud strut stirred bangles, belted coins and pretty, jewelled ankle chains into a chiming fanfare. Sighing, Mai tugged the shawl about her and tried not to feel like a peahen amongst swans.

Something snagged her dress hard enough to make her stagger. With a curse that blurted a giggle from Leilan, she lurched to a stop and turned her glower on the culprit. Thea seemed suddenly absorbed in study of her fingernails as a demure smile played about her lips. Mai slapped at the dusty footprint on her hem, not caring that there was no curtain of hair to hide her scowl.

Leilan crouched to fuss at Mai's skirts. 'There now. All fixed.'

'I'm not sure if this is a good idea.'

'Nonsense. You look perfect.' Leilan straightened with an encouraging smile. 'And I won't let you waste such a beautiful evening by sulking in a tent.'

She could agree with that at least. Even though fire-smoke had draped a sullen haze beneath the dusk-painted sky, that sea of damson and sienna was unblemished by clouds and gloried by the dying blaze of the sun.

The moon was a mere ghost in that riot of hues, but already the cicadas and other night-creatures were preparing for their even-song with the occasional chirrup. As they drew closer to the camp, the distant echoes began to swamp the budding chorus; bawdy songs warred with sprightly melodies from countless flutes and tin-whistles and suddenly her heart was a drum, gorging her ears with its dark rhythm.

The fires cackled higher, as though glutting on the heat. Stinging smoke, succulent with roasting flesh and sun-swollen fruits, jolted her stomach into a performance to rival the most energetic of acrobats.

She pulled in a breath and hurried after the women, her skirts gathered so stockinged ankles flashed in the firelight. The perfumed oil they had daubed on her fevered pulse mingled with the firefly specks of incense, as though conspiring to make her sneeze.

Leilan pulled her close, her voice rich with amusement. 'Look. They hardly recognise you!'

Her skin prickled as she hurried past the dark, man-shaped creatures shadowed against the orange pyres. She could feel the weight of their stares, could almost see the scathing twist to their lips. Shivering, she tried to emulate the careless strut of the women, aware of the tight, silk slippers that clipped her stride into a sashay, the brash, wine-soaked voices and the sweat wending between her breasts.

'Mai. There's someone who would like to meet you.'

Wishing that Leilan hadn't laced her bodice so tightly, Mai padded to Tillalia and the young man at her side.

'This is Andry, my nephew.'

The young man bowed and, before she could protest, pressed a lingering kiss to her hand. 'I am honoured to meet you, Mai. Do you know the Song?'

'No, dearest.' Tillalia patted the boy on the shoulder and beamed an indulgent smile. 'He is eager, this one. And already quite taken with you. Now, if you will excuse me.'

Mai froze as Tillalia abandoned her. It was horror enough that the boy had heard the woman's words, worse still that he was actually nodding.

'You are pale, like a new snowfall. Seeing you reminds me of my favourite season.'

She jerked her hand from his descending kiss. 'Thank you.'

It was then that she glimpsed Cal, unmistakable with his gold-lit hair despite the gloom. If his glower was anything to go by, it seemed that he had also spotted her.

The gall of the man! She should be the one glaring, and with more cause.

She fought the impulse to poke her tongue at him. Mat was there too, his smile broad as he muttered something that made Cal's scowl even darker. Men.

Andry was watching with an injured frown. 'You seem….elsewhere. Is that man your chosen?'

'Cal is just a friend.'

Was, she reminded herself. Irritatingly, the thought was a little plaintive.

'Then let us be just friends also.'

With a silent groan, she saw that he was readying to kiss her hand again. Fortunately, a group of brightly clad Tinkers struck a melody that prompted a flurry of applause and she clapped along with genuine delight, using the excuse to retrieve her hand.

There had been music in Laybridge, at feastings and naming days, but it had always sounded rough and awkward even to her untrained ear. Tonight the fiddles and strange instruments seemed to sing the sweet, shining notes.

'A smile at last.' Andry leaned closer. 'If it pleases you, perhaps later we shall dance.'

'Why wait for later?' The look Thea gave Andry was nothing short of smouldering as she swept by in a cloud of perfume. Eyes still glinting with that silent challenge, the girl strutted to a swept clearing and threw off her shawl, much to the obvious delight of the male onlookers.

Leilan gave a tolerant laugh. 'Don't worry, Mai, Thea's just trying her favourite trick. No man has been able to resist it yet.'

'Who would fall for something that obvious?' Mai was mid-sniff when Mat stepped forward, all but tripping over himself to join Thea.

'Never underestimate the predictability of a man, dear.' Leilan said fondly, draping an arm around a grinning Andry's shoulder. 'It's a trait that comes in useful every now and then.'

As far as Mai was concerned, men were anything but predictable. Tillalia was caressing Cal's face and whispering through dark smiles. The woman must have been cooing the right words for that blue glare softened a touch. Not that she cared. She didn't. Not one bit.

'Would you like a drink?'

The smile felt heavy on her lips. 'That would be lovely.'

Her fingers worrying a silver bracelet, Mai watched Andry dash in pursuit of her drink and sighed.

The other women had now clutched into smaller groups or begun to mingle with the men. Mat was still dancing with Thea, although 'dancing' seemed too civil a word to describe the girl's eager performance, which seemed to involve an awful lot of hips and swaying. Mai turned at the sound of footsteps, impatient for Andry to return with some wine. But it was not Andry approaching.

Cal's gait was purposeful despite his downcast stare. Mai drew herself to full height and tried to look imposing. If he thought he could cow her this time….

He barely had the decency to pry his gaze from the dirt.

'It that scowl for me?'

'It's no more than you deserve.' The words had tumbled out before she could stop herself. She lifted her chin, expecting Cal to look stung, but he just looked awkward and sweaty.

'Not in the mood for dancing around words tonight, I see.'

'Let's just say that one-sided sword fights tend to make me irritable.'

Now he looked stung. Strangely, that didn't please her as much as it should.

'I'm sorry about what happened earlier. Truly sorry. And I'm sorry I don't know what else to say.'

He managed a show of pure misery even though his shoulders were unbowed, his face a study of composure.

To her dismay, all her chill words so carefully prepared thawed on her lips. 'You could promise never to try and kill me again.'

Blue eyes found and fixed her. 'I'll see what I can do.'

'Your drink?' Andry blinked at them, two mugs of dark liquid in his hands.

She shot an imploring look at Cal who seemed very much absorbed in glaring at the young Tinker.

'Andry, I'm feeling a little tired. Maybe later.'

'Now, Mai. It's only fair that you should dance with our guest.' Cal clasped her hand and touched a lingering kiss to her palm, his eyes still fixed on Andry.

He straightened and closed her fingers around the kiss. 'As promise that you will dance with me later.' With a solemn bow, and another glare for the boy, Cal stormed from sight.

Quashing a curious urge to stamp her foot, Mai took a swallow of her drink. She was quietly gasping past the fiery liquid when Andry insisted on his dance and pulled her into the crowd without even waiting for an answer. She drained the cup as she straggled behind, her throat aflame from the unfamiliar drink.

He swung her to a stop amid a swirl of music and dancers. With a light head and a sinking stomach she realised that there was no chance of a polite escape.

'I have never before seen such magnificent eyes.' Andry snaked an arm about her waist. 'I think a man could drown in them.'

'Oh, how terrible.'

'No, no. It would not be terrible at all.' For a moment the boy looked almost flustered. 'You like to dance?'

'I've never done it before.' She realised she was smiling. Well, grinning really. She wished she could remember what was so funny.

Her next step landed on something soft. Mai lifted her foot from Andry's as he made a sort of strangled yip.

'I suppose I'm not very good at this.'

'Nonsense. Why, you're as light as a feather.' He whirled her in a giddy circle, only just catching her in time to stop her falling on her rump. 'You see?'

His gleaming smile had barely come back into focus when he reeled her again, faster this time. Her stomach lurched a mournful hiccough.

Tearing free of the boy's grasp, Mai pressed a hand to her brow. Sweat bled from her skin, cold and clammy and thoroughly unpleasant. 'I think I'd like to sit down.'

'But we've hardly had one dance.'

Andry tried for her hands but she quickly tucked them behind her. 'I really have to go.'

She turned before he could protest, trying to make her escape as discreet yet dignified as possible. Rearranging her skirts in a fluffing motion, a gesture that still seemed odd yet somehow exciting to her, she slowly headed for the nearest gap in the crowd. Slowly, because of the stupid, crippling slippers. She was giving silent thanks that Andry wasn't in pursuit when someone yanked into an embrace.

'Andry, I….'

'Dance.' A fearful gaze darted above her head. 'You just might be saving my bloody skin.' Fingers entwined with hers as an arm circled her waist, easing her into a slow glide. 'That woman. She's like one of those bloody worms you carry around.'

His skin looked dusky against her pallor, the fingers tanned and rough. 'Leech.'

'What?'

'It's leech. Not worm.'

'Oh.' A hand slid to her hip.

'It's a common mistake, but they're actually not like worms at all.' Smoke and leather. His smell was as exotic to her as the perfume they had dabbed on her throat. 'We've looked at their insides. They really are quite—' She gasped as he pulled her closer. 'Fascinating.'

'Really.'

'Yes. You're confusing them with tapeworms, I think. They feed off things too. We've found those in all sorts of creatures. Dogs, cows, pigs…'

'Pigs?'

Light, but his eyelashes were long. 'Yes, pigs. And sometimes people.'

'Sounds awful.'

'Yes, yes it is….' Warm palms cupped her waist. 'Awful.'

Those hands tightened. 'Oh, burn me.' His breath, spiced with brandy and tabac, tickled her cheek. 'Come on.'

Her hand still clasped in his, they ducked and wove between the startled dancers, her skirts streaming like a wind-whipped cloud and laughter gasping from her lips. Grunts and startled exclamations followed their flight and then she heard a shrill and unpleasantly familiar voice call her abductors name.

With a colourful oath, he yanked her to a halt. Tottering, she watched him snatch a drink from a confounded looking Cal.

'Here.'

The silvery cup sloshed ruby liquid over her hand.

'Have fun.'

And, with that, Mat fled for the campfires.

'A dashing rescue indeed.'

'Actually.' Her knees felt shaky. How strange. 'I'm the rescuer.'

Cal was toying with the leaves of a willow, a shrewd smile on his lips. 'Cherry?' He offered a small dish. 'Seems they've ripened early this year.'

'No, thank you.'

He shrugged and held a ruby orb before him. 'Well, it seems as though our orders are to have fun.' He popped the berry between his lips. 'Any ideas?'

The wine didn't taste very good. In fact, it made her queasy. She dropped onto the grass to knead her throbbing feet. 'I think I like it here just fine.'

She yelped as Cal grabbed the cup.

'How much of this have you had?'

'That's my first.'

He crouched before her. 'Then what were you drinking with that Tinker?'

'I'm really not sure.' She was grinning again. How frustrating. 'It didn't taste much like wine. It tasted....burnt.' She finished, pleased by the wide-eyed understanding on Cal's face.

'He gave you brandy?' Cal rubbed a hand over his eyes. 'Wait here.'

Laughter tickled her throat as he stomped away. She had pressed a hand to her lips, trying to squash the giggle still hovering there, when Cal returned.

'Here.'

She stared at the cup. 'What is it?'

'Water. And eat this.'

'I'm not hungry.'

'Just eat it. You'll feel better.'

She nibbled at the chunk of dry bread. 'Would you like to dance?'

'Maybe later.' He mimed a smile as he brushed a curl from her brow. 'Do you feel all right?'

Her head actually stayed on when she nodded. Amazing.

Cal draped a coat over her shoulders and sat beside her. The coat was dark and smooth and familiar smelling. She hunched deeper into its velvety warmth.

The music had slowed into a soft, drawly tune, hardly good for dancing at all. She hiccoughed and sipped at the water.

'Did I tell you I was sorry?'

'Yes.'

'Well, I am.' Even downcast, his eyes were piercing in their honesty. 'If I upset you, or hurt you, I was wrong.'

He still refused to meet her gaze. Nudging his shoulder, Mai determined to banish the matter for good. Raising her cup in mock salute, she exclaimed; 'To addled wits and misunderstandings.'

Cal took a deep drink before mimicking her, his blue eyes blazing with firelight. 'To forgiveness and beauty.'

The cups met with a shiver.

He was watching her, intent and unreadable as ever. She broke the honorific with a quick sip and looked through the willow branches where the first stars were beginning to throb through the haze.

'Mai, do you want to stay here?'

'Not for much longer. These pebbles aren't very comfortable.'

'I meant with the Band.'

'I haven't really thought about it. Why?' The bread seemed to stick in her throat. 'Has something been said?'

'No. But the men are almost well now. They won't stay here forever. Before the Band moves on, I intend to leave alone.' He paused, made as though to down his drink, seemed to think better of it. 'I'm asking if you will come with me.'

'But I'm safe here. And they need me, don't they?' The cup creaked in her grip. Leave? Why would she want to leave?

Her mind whirling with the idea, Mai tried to look at anything other than Cal.

Leilan was dancing with a young man, her hand stirring the black curls at his neck as his stroked her rounded belly.

A bat fluttered overhead, stroking the night with velvet wings.

Thea was drawing Mat into her sleek arms, her throat throbbing with laughter.

She didn't even realise Cal had left her side until he was striding away.

'Where are you going?'

He smiled over his shoulder. 'Give the coat to Mat when you see him.'

It was some time before she realised she hadn't answered his question.

'Will you stop fussing? I'm sure he's fine.'

'Then why can't I find him?' Mai strode in front of Leilan, her head beating with muzzy pain and her feet burning in the ridiculous slippers. 'He said he was leaving. What if he's already gone?'

'He's probably drunk and sleeping it off somewhere. You know how men are.'

And there was the rub. She had absolutely no idea how men were, especially a certain blonde one who seemed torn between drawing a sword or hugging the breath from her.

'What is wrong with the man? Every time I speak he just scowls or wanders off.'

'Try kissing him a few times.'

She almost tripped at that. 'Why?'

'You're such a goose. He's besotted with you. A blind fool could see it.'

'That's not true.'

'Where have you been, child? Hiding under a bushel all your life? Here you are, complaining because some boy's throwing his heart at your slippers, and you insist on being all calf-eyed over someone else. No wonder he's cross.'

Mai gasped. 'I am not calf-eyed over anybody.'

Leilan rolled her eyes and kept on walking.

'Who then? If you know so much about me, you could at least let me know?'

'That wasn't fair, Mat. The ring was supposed to be a gift for Clarrie.'

The loud protest silenced any retort Leilan was about to make. If Estean's whine was anything to go by, the man was in a foul humour.

'More fool you for putting it in the kitty.' The second voice sounded even more sullen.

Leilan's lips had hooked into a mischievous smile.

Mai didn't like that look one bit. 'Where are you going?' she hissed.

But the woman was already waddling for the fire where the group sat in a straggled circle. Mai trailed behind, wincing as blisters pricked her feet.

Glum faces reflected the firelight, all staring at the pile of treasures at Mat's boots. Only Thea looked to be in good spirits. The creature was draped over Mat like some common smother-vine, her eyes gloating over a trinket on her finger.

The wood smoke must have been tickling Mai's nose for she sniffed. Loudly.

'Are you well?' Leilan piped with singsong innocence. 'Not sickening with something, I hope.'

Mat shot to his feet. Before she could protest, he seized her arm and ushered her to the fireside. 'Here, have a sit down.'

He pressed her shoulder so she had no choice but to slump onto the log. Only when Mat dropped down beside her did she realise that he had jammed her between himself and Thea. The Tinker girl's glare could have flayed a brass pot.

Estean had scooped up a pair of dice with a lusty sigh. 'This is my last crown, Mat. My last bloody crown.' He shook his fist, a determined look cramping his face. The dice dropped and rolled, tumbling to reveal four pips winking in the firelight.

There was a murmur of condolence.

'Blood and bloody, bloody flaming —'

'Really, Estean. We have ladies present.' Mat plucked a necklace from the dust with a grim smile. Coin-sized firedrops glistened from its thick, gold chain. After appraising it for a moment, Mat thrust the gaudy thing at Thea.

'You've done something to them.' Estean was muttering. 'You bloody well must have. Why else would they only work for you?'

'Light, if it will stop you sulking, someone else can take my flaming throw. Here.'

The dice felt cool in her palm. She blinked at Mat. 'But I—'

He smiled and leaned closer. 'Like this.' His warm hand closed around hers.

A jolt fizzled at that touch, a thrill like a single, thrumming nerve deep within her flesh.

Then nothing. Nothing but her breath, the dice and the familiar pulse of knowing what was going to happen….

….she hadn't expected to see her….

I know what will come of this....

….had flinched when Menna began to run, her hair like dying embers….

I know....

….had cried out to her, had….

I....

The dice left her fingers with a sigh, tumbling and swaying as though through honey. She watched them waltz to a stop, knew their faces before the final roll. Twin pips flickered in the firelight.

'The Dark One's eyes.' Breath warmed her ear. 'Lucky for some.'

She swiped her hand from Mat's. Sounds rushed at her; Estean's dismayed cry – 'Light, Mat. What else have you been teaching her? – the snarl of burning logs, a wailing fiddle, a fox's cry on the wind.

Lurching to her feet, Mai fled, heedless of the startled voices trailing behind.

'Mai.' Leilan was gasping to keep up. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.' Menna. Light, who are you?

'Are you sick? We should go back.'

'No. I just need some air.' Her mind seethed with the image of that running girl. The girl in her dream. She rubbed at her wrist as though bloodied fingers were still hooked there. 'I just need to think.'

Leilan paused to lift an acknowledging hand to the campfire and a figure turned away, melded into the amber glow.

Wrenching the slippers from her feet, Mai walked on, ignoring the stinging grass as it rasped against her tender skin.

'Mai, please slow down.'

An ache bloomed in her side. Mai pressed a hand to her breast and sucked in a deep lungful of air, her heart beating fit to crack her ribs.

Leilan puffed behind. 'Please stop.' The woman reached for her. 'I'm sorry. If I had known it would make you that way….'

'It's not—' Light, but her head was spinning. Snarling, she reached into her mass of curls and began to yank at the ribbons, tearing them from her hair. A swathe of ringlets fell about her shoulders. For some reason, it made her feel better. 'It's not you.' The breath was coming easier now, the pain ebbing. 'It's not you.'

'Then what?'

Mai was trying to find the words when her all breath was slammed from her. She landed hard and wide-eyed, lungs aching for air. A swathe of midnight slid past with a stealthy hiss. Her lungs straining a reedy whistle, Mai swayed to a crouch.

Leilan was on her knees, eyes huge and glossy. 'Mai?'

'Quiet.' She scanned the night with frantic speed, searching for that unnatural darkness.

The girl whimpered. 'What is it?' Her tiny form hunched closer.

'Leilan, stay.'

But the girl was crawling now, too lost in her horror. Beyond Leilan's sobs was a low, hungry sound, as though the attacker tasted their fear.

'Who ever you are, leave us alone. One scream and I'll have a hundred men here in a heartbeat.'

Her flesh shuddered as another sound rippled the air. It knew....they'll never get here in time, you stupid girl.…but sing for me....give me the music of your fear....oh Light, it knew.

She tore her gaze from the black shape. Leilan had frozen, her face rigid with terror.

'Run.'

'No, I can't--'

'Leilan, go.' She forced every ounce of her will into the command. 'Run!'

With a wail, Leilan flung herself from the ground and ran for the speckled light of the camp. A low chuckle followed.

'No!'

The pursuer moved like ebony flame through oil. Mai shook as slender arms seized and curved around Leilan. Sobs racked her as the creatures pale face lowered, its cloak flowing as though stirred by some covetous wind.

'Please. No…'

Long, white fingers cupped Leilan's stricken face, drew trembling, ruby lips to meet its own.

The air seemed to darken, to silence as though mourning the vile act playing before her. A silken song billowed in the hush, a lullaby that resonated within her, soothed her ravaged mind. She gazed in silence as a small body slid to the ground.

With almost exquisite grace, the cloaked man swayed towards her. His face was luminous, beautiful, the large eyes filling her with yearning as a soft croon caressed her mind, eased away her foolish fear.

'Such sweetness,' she whispered, her voice low with dark longing. 'Sing to me.'

The glorious song intensified as his cloak stirred in the stillness, rising to obscure the radiance of the moon. With dim awe she saw a tracery of veins, delicate as featherweb, pulsing within the fragile flesh.

The wings arced past her, sighing as they drew her in a velvety embrace. Huge, dark eyes glistened with a promise of perfect, ceaseless bliss....

She screamed when the creature staggered, its lilting music lurching into a shriek. Her hands clawed to snatch the splayed hands ebbing from her reach. The ground met her with a jolt. She curled in a numb huddle as a thud severed that piercing screech.

A chill breeze stirred the branches into gleeful conspiracy. Her mind ringing with the silence, Mai gazed at the figure standing above the darkness that twitched feebly against the earth.

Heaving herself upright, Mai stumbled to her fallen attacker. It lay in a pool of black, its huge eyes vacant and gelatinous below the rent in its skull as brittle fingers clawed at the stream of viscid liquid oozing from its breast. Fragile bones glistened in the meat of one wing while the other flailed obscenely, its barbed tip gouging a pale scar in the dirt. But worst was the sound, the soft, persuasive croon still trilling from its slender throat as though in lament of her cold defiance.

Her companion raised an unwavering arm and fired something into the creature's head. Black fluid stuttered from this new violation and, with a last, wavering whine, the thing lapsed into silence.

The figure turned to her, his breathing fast, hard and gloriously human. 'My love, you really are a world of trouble.'

She tried to speak but that creature's touch was still upon her, its charnel stink still clinging to the air. Reeling, she finally lost the battle with her stomach, only dimly aware of the gentle hands stopping her descent.

'Burn me. What in the bloody Light did you do?'

Cal shrugged. 'I put a couple of bolts into it.'

'A couple?' Mat shook his head. 'There's hardly anything left.'

The dead creature before them was in a wretched state. Its wings were splayed in a rigid rictus, and black, fetid ichor was beginning to seep from its bloated flesh in slick runnels.

'I put a few more in after it stopped moving. You told me these things took a long time to die.'

'Yes, if it's a Myrddral. You know, the ones with no eyes and that tendency to make grown men soil themselves?'

'It was dark. How was I supposed to know? Besides, not all of us make a habit slaughtering half-breeds.'

'Then count yourself the lucky one.' Mat breezed, his light tone failing to mask a snap of irritation.

'So what is it?'

'It's a Draghkar.' The younger man dropped the rag over the creature with a wince of distaste. 'Congratulations, Cal. You just slaughtered your first shadowspawn.'

'It's an honour I could have done without.' He cleared his throat. 'How's the girl?'

'Oh, Thea will be fine. She seemed a bit annoyed by the interruption, but I think I can smooth things out.'

Cal gave his friend a dark look. 'No, Mat, the other girl?'

'Other? Light, Cal, one at a time is enough!' Mat grinned at Cal's scandalised expression. 'Don't worry, Tilly whisked her away after she'd finished losing her supper.' He knuckled his spine in a stretch. 'We've got half the Band watching the sky and the other half looking after the girl. She will be fine.'

'And what am I supposed to do with this?'

Mat turned a reluctant eye to the dead creature. 'Burn it, I suppose, if we can put up with the stink.'

'I'll see to it.' Cal shielded his nose with a sleeve. 'Though I doubt that it can smell much worse.'

'I wouldn't bet on it.'

'Where are you going?'

'To bed.' Mat rolled his eyes at Cal's disbelieving sigh. 'My own, of course. I think there's been more than enough excitement for one night.'

But sleep, and all it's comforts, was the last thing his mind wanted. His head was already pulsing with the beginnings of what would surely make the morning a living misery and the darkness was like a hot tide, throwing waves of pulsing heat against him. At least it might sweat some of the bloody wine from his hide.

His stomach still roiled, either from the drink or seeing that Tinker girl lying on the grass, her eyes black as the sky mirroring her incurious stare. He should have followed them, sent someone to make sure they were safe. Light, it had been so quiet. If Mai had screamed or wept, had raged or clung to someone, anything would have been better than that blank, vacant glaze so like that of the dead girl.

Not dead. His throat ached for a drink. What was it Moiraine had said? Worse than dead, or something much like it.

A flickering light still shone from Thea's window. He paused, foot poised as though to take a step towards the snug wagon. A shadow blurred the pain and he hurried on, hating the guilt that hunched his shoulders. She would be well enough. He kicked at a stone. It made him feel better so he kicked another, sent it skittering into the shadows.

An old man watched him from a perch of rickety steps, a battered fiddle in his knotted hands. Mat ducked his head in greeting but the fellow just blinked those rheumy eyes and tucked the fiddle under his grey-scuffed chin. As Mat walked on, a raw, plaintive melody trailed in his wake.

He hadn't known where he was headed until he saw her tent, pale and spectral in the darkness. What did it matter? He should check on her after all, be the dutiful leader and all that bloody nonsense.

There was no candle glow; a good sign. She was probably sleeping or had decided to stay with the caravans. Softly, so as not to startle her, he crept to the tent. He would put the foxhead inside and then he would leave. That's it. Just go back to the fires, or grab a skin of wine or go to Thea. Anything, but he would go. He would.

The opening was unlaced. He scratched at the sacking and muttered her name. It was not until he stumbled headfirst that he realised the tent was empty. A good thing too. He doubted the girl would have appreciated it if he landed on top of her. Face flaming – this bloody heat was becoming too much to bear – he scrabbled from the tent.

He had resolved to sink a belly-full of wine and go where the night took him when he spotted the light on the tor.

A steady stream of complaints had him breathless by the time he crested the rise. Beneath the sprawl of a leafy tree a figure was holding aloft a torch and peering worriedly into the darkness.

'Bit late for berry-picking, isn't it?'

Per started so hard that burning flecks dripped from the torch. The man rushed at him, his face creased with worry. 'I tried to tell her, my Lord, but she insisted.'

'Who? Per, what the bloody--?' Burnished silver glimmered in the shadows.

'I've tried to reason with her but she won't go back.'

'That's fine. I'll deal with it.'

'Yes, my Lord.' His face sagging with relief, Per dipped a bow and all but ran for the camp.

'And I'm no bloody Lord.'

Per waved the bobbing torch and kept running.

Twigs and ruby berries snapped and oozed underfoot as he approached her. The sheltering rowan tree looked almost dream-like in the moonlight. For a heartbeat, he felt a surge of nostalgia so strong he almost staggered.

That's enough wine for one evening.

The old man's song wiped the smile from his lips. Voices had now risen in a harmony that pricked the edges of his memory. He scowled that they should have the stomach for music at such a time. Tinkers had a habit of singing about bloody everything.

His steps were hardly delicate but the girl gave no sign. A fall of curls had tumbled free, swaying to a waist so slender he was sure he could have encircled it with both hands. But he had been right earlier; there were some interesting developments above and below that tiny midriff.

Definitely enough wine. He flinched as a twig cracked under his boot. Her head tilted, giving him a glimpse of a small, pink ear before she went back to her study of the speckled lights.

With a sigh, he leaned against the sturdy trunk.

'You picked a good tree.' He kept his voice light as he touched the silvery bark. It was smooth and cool, the grain achingly familiar beneath his palm. 'The berries can be handy for all sorts of things.' He dedicated a moment's reminiscing to a howling, ruby-splattered Cenn Buie. He remembered sulking for a week that they had burned his best sling, but the incident had definitely been worth the switching. The grin slid from his face. It had been a long while since a memory had made him smile. Light, he was maudlin tonight.

The girl hadn't moved. Only faint music and the whispering leaves touched the silence.

He pushed himself from the tree and stepped closer. 'Mai, are you all….'

'I think I lost those nice slippers in the grass somewhere.' She said, her voice too steady and low. 'I hope Tillalia won't mind.'

He saw her feet were bare and stained crimson with the crushed berries. 'I'm sure she will be fine.' He was nearly at her side now. 'Why don't we walk to the camp?'

'No.'

His hand lifted to her smooth shoulder, faltered. 'It's not going to come back.'

'How terribly inconsiderate of it.'

'Mai—'

She flinched when his fingers stirred her hair. 'I'm fine.'

A shiver gave her the lie. It was anything but cold – sweat was running from him in rivers now – but after the first spasm the girl seemed unable to stop tremoring. His best coat had vanished and he cursed not sending Per to fetch a blanket or some hot tea.

With a deep breath, he reached and pulled her to him.

'What are you doing?'

He countered with a wide smile. 'Keeping you warm.' Her cold fingers jutted from his as he slid the other hand around her waist. 'Besides, you owe me a dance. Our last one was rudely interrupted, remember?'

She made no protest save for her refusal to move, all the while staring at him with wide, impassive eyes. A sudden image flittered through his mind; her, silhouetted in a doorway, her gaze steady and chill....

I believe you require a healer....

....and he realised just how cold those eyes could be. Something in his face made her frown and pull away, gasp a wine-sweet breath against his lips and the song, that bloody song, was unbearable, pounding until his mind throbbed with its pain….

Crows blackened the sky like a plague, circling against the grey with bloated bellies or dropping to batten on the countless dead and dying. Scrabbling through a mire of pulp and mud, heedless of the blaze of fat flies, he found purchase on a midden of fallen men. A glint of something, green as a summer glade, stopped him. Digging through bodies with clawed hands, he finally uncovered that flash of colour. The sword was still clenched in Taylal's stiff, cracked fingers while broken teeth snarled in final defiance. His hand trembled as he closed his brother's eyes. Forgetting the creed of the Lost, he swallowed a cry and sang a last lament to the weeping sky….

He ground his teeth; the song in his head was louder still, overwhelming the one drifting from the camp. Not now.

'What is it?'

'Nothing.' He spoke the word with care. It was more than an effort to replace his smile. The lament was dwindling, fading until it was nothing but the keen of a distant chorus. His stomach lurched once more and was still.

'You speak such nonsense sometimes.' A wisp of a smile. 'Are you drunk?'

'Not nearly enough.' She smelled of spices and crushed berries and something clean and sweet and altogether her. He pulled her close as a bitter sound escaped him. He was leading her to the tune of a bloody funeral.

She trembled against his chest, shivered like a leaf in a storm.

'Everything will be fine.' He whispered. 'I promise.'

Her arms curved about his neck as they danced the berries into wine.