4

Rand was in his cold study, pacing nervously. Would the mission succeed? He refused to think of what would happen if it didn't. After all, Chloris was in charge of it. Yes, he decided, nothing could go wrong. He forced himself to stop and light a fire in the hearth. Chloris was the best of the best.

When the flames caught, he sat down behind his desk and began to compose a letter that he knew he would never send. He suppressed the surge of emotion that was welling up in his chest, not knowing what it was about.

Forget about it, he thought. Don't let the men see your apprehension. Yes, everything will be alright.

Chloris was moving fast and was sure she was being followed. Damn his tracking skills, she thought irritably. It had rained in the last day or so, she was soaked to the bone and the path she had chosen by the river was thick with mud. Her footprints showed clearly behind her and she faced a difficult decision.

Chloris could decrease her speed and hide her trail more thoroughly, or increase her speed. She chose to hide her trail.

When she reached a shallow part in the river, she forded, and then backtracked for a good half hour through the water. Then she got out and began to walk again. A fog was beginning to settle, and her chill was becoming worse. After walking for a while more she realized it was becoming dark and found a slightly less damp place to pitch camp.

She was up early the next day, making sure that when she got to the place she had forded the river at, that she skirted the banks by a long way, then with all haste, she continued along the river, more carefully this time, but with more urgency.

At that very moment, another person was moving with, if possible, more urgency, and a great deal more fear. In the past days of blind flight, the man's horse had fallen and broken its leg. Without thought, he had lurched off of it. Grabbing his saddle bags, he continued through the forest at an insane pace. He refused to rest until, each night; he collapsed on the ground, panting and unable to go any farther. In the morning he would jerk into wakefulness, more alarmed then before. He barely ate. By the time he reached the outskirts of the nearest town, he was weak from dehydration and exhaustion.

The farmer that found him had thought he was dead. When he saw the small rise and fall of the man's chest, he called for help, and quickly hauled him to his home.

Sun pooled through the window at the foot of his bed, waking him up. Stephen blinked it out of his eyes startled. Calm radiated through his surroundings, but he still felt uneasy. Part of the reason for his worry was the curious weakness of his body. It left him feeling helpless in an unfamiliar place. He could barely remember what had happened to him. There were vague memories of being fed by someone with a rough, but calming voice. But more than anything, he remembered the bolt.

It had been her crossbow bolt that had killed James. He recalled it in slow motion, how she had been curiously nervous, how she had shot at nothing, and gone to retrieve her crossbow bolts. They were cold and shivering. He was wondering what had taken her so long when it had happened.

It had killed James in a split second, speeding directly through his throat and imbedding itself into the tree behind him. It was enough to make even a hardened soldier like Stephen sick.

James was his brother, though most couldn't see the relation. Stephen was taller and fairer while James was stout and dark. That traitorous bitch! He could never hold with the eyes of her's. But Rand had trusted her and he had been forced to as well. As far as he had been concerned she was trouble, a sorceress that had enchanted their commander.

This had only confirmed his beliefs. She would take the globe and run, using it for her own benefits. A cold rage welled up in his belly. He would kill her, he knew. Revenge was the only thing that would satisfy him now.

Chloris sighted the town by the end of the fifth day; a field of lights in the darkness. She could hardly hold back her satisfaction. Steadily she pressed on until she reached the gates.

It was getting dark, and she knew curfew would soon be in force. She rapped smartly on the gate, when the gatekeeper peered through, she suddenly felt self-conscious. She must look terrible.

"Wha' ya wan'," he growled glancing fearfully behind her. "No'un s'posed to come in aft' dark."

"You have to help me," Chloris panted, feigning alarm. She didn't have to try hard. "There's this man, he's after me, and I couldn't possibly stay in the dark outside. Please," she begged, trying to make herself small, looking down to the ground so he wouldn't see her eyes, "please, if you will only let me in I won't cause any trouble." She was quivering from the cold. She hoped it would look like fear.

"Sorry, miss. I's your plight, no' mine. We don' wan' any'un comin' in here of unsav'ry nature."

Chloris's eyes flashed underneath her hood. It was taking all of her control not to overpower this selfish man. When she responded her voice was thick with anger. It quivered with it. Perhaps, if she summoned tears. "But, sir, I'm so frightened. Help me please."

Apparently he had misread her emotions, because he said, "now don' cry. I guess, mayhap this time, it'll be alright."

She bit back a sigh of relief as he unbolted the door. She passed him, ignoring the temptation to kill him.

"Now, don' say anythan abou' me to the guards if they catch ya aft' curfew."

Chloris restrained herself from uttering a retort. "I won't, don't worry."

She strode away, keeping herself hidden in the shadows, muttering under her breath with contempt against human selfishness and greed.