Author's Note: Please note that this chapter is definitely rated M. Though it's not explicit, rape is implied.

Blood and Choice

Chapter 10

Chills wracked her, crippling shakes that raised gooseflesh on her skin and made her muscles ache... and then it was the fever, burning her from the inside out, leaving her gasping for air. Back and forth it went, until Raema hardly knew whether she were hot or cold, whether to long for a blanket or be glad she was naked.

She had tried to fight, Vivec knew. She had first awoken with the pain of a bite already stiffening her neck, and a gleam in the vampire's eyes that said he was hardly finished. She'd been groggy, still, from Volrina Quarra's spells, but she was lucid enough to know when Calvario came at her again. She had kicked at him, caught him square in the stomach; managed to nearly break her hand on his cheek, too, making his eye swell up and grow satisfyingly bruised. But it had been simple enough for him to flip her over and bind her wrists and ankles, and there was nothing to stop him then. Luckily, she had faded back to unconsciousness before he was done.

The next time, she had had time to prepare. She had lost a lot of blood, she knew, and it was difficult to concentrate, but she managed, her focus born of desperation. When he came back for more, his black eye already healed away by feeding on her blood, she was ready. Fire bloomed across his face, making him howl; he hadn't expected sorcery from her. Assurjan would have been proud, she thought foggily, if he had seen it. But she could manage no more than that, just enough to anger Calvario. It earned her a cuff across the face, shooting bright pains through her head, and a warning that any more spells would bring worse. And, undeterred, he had taken from her again, and his burned face had been restored to normal when he had finished.

"You needn't keep struggling, you know," Calvario said from across the tomb, making her start. She was trying so hard to stay awake, knowing that she might not wake up again if sleep claimed her... but gods, it was hard. "All the cattle do that at first... but they learn soon enough. You might as well become used to it. I'd forgotten how convenient it is to have one at my disposal." The Imperial smiled, an ugly display of his fangs.. "Especially a pretty little one like you. It would almost be a shame to drain you, Bosmer... except that I'll enjoy it so much."

Lying on her side, glaring at him, Raema licked dry lips. Oblivion take you, you bloody buggering s'wit, she wanted to say, but she did not think she had the strength to spare on voicing insults. Her right arm was numb, trapped under her own weight, and it was a struggle to remain conscious. How long had it been since she and Jole had burst through that door? A day, two? She no longer had the ability to sense daylight like the vampires. A week might have passed, for all she knew.

Calvario got to his feet and approached her, eyes glittering. No, Raema thought, and clenched her jaws to keep it from escaping in a moan. He crouched beside her, eyes roaming her body. She swallowed hard, glaring up at him. She had been here before, a helpless slave, bound and unable to fight back; it was a fear both old and familiar. I am not scared of you, n'wah, she thought, glaring up as if daring him to touch her again. It was a lie, but she knew from experience that she could almost believe it if she told herself often enough.

He still had that ugly smile; it was becoming familiar to her. One hand, cool as a corpse's, stroked her neck, tracing the constellation of fang marks that lined her throat. She gritted her teeth as his fingers moved lower, finding the bite mark he had left on her breast. That one had not been for blood, but he had fed from the bite on her inner thigh, and his fingers found that one next, while his smile widened.

Don't squirm, she told herself desperately, as his fingers probed cruelly between her legs. That's what he wants to see. Don't give him that, at least.

"That's better," he murmured, in an layered, echoing voice. "Much better." Hand still working, he lowered his head, baring fangs.

A little closer, she thought, watching him go for her throat. Now-. She lunged upward, sinking her own teeth into his neck before he could do the same. She had not forgotten how to bite like a vampire, and even without fangs, she tasted blood. My own blood he's consumed, she realized, and the thought only made her bite harder.

Calvario bellowed furiously and reared upright; Raema rose with him, clenching her teeth with all her strength, hanging onto his neck like a maddened beast. He seized her throat with both hands and slammed her to the ground. Lights burst inside her skull as her head hit the floor, and she choked, mouth full of blood, the vampire's hands on her windpipe. There was something between her teeth; when her vision cleared, she saw that Calvario was missing a chunk of flesh from his throat.

"Bloody s'wit," he snarled. Raema spat; blood splattered across his face. "You're beginning to make me angry, Bosmer."

Her vision was sparkling into darkness, with her air cut off. Abruptly, he shifted, flipping her deftly onto her stomach and straddling her waist. With one hand he pressed against the side of her head, effortlessly pinning her to the floor; with his other hand, he ran his fingers roughly down her spine. "Paralysis spells are all very well," he hissed. "But they wear off eventually. All I need to do is bite, right here-" he pressed a thumb between her shoulder blades, leaning on it until she cried out. "-and it will be permanent. Is that what I need to do to make you behave, Bosmer?"

Gods... she didn't think an injury that severe could be helped by any healer. To be trapped here was bad enough. To be unable to escape, unable to move, forever? Gods, no!

"Well?" He asked, pressing harder. "Is this what you want?"

"No," she gasped. Mercifully, he eased up, removed his hands; she heard him unbuckling his trousers. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, swallowing hard as she felt him moving over her.

Something flickered at the edge of her mind, and it took her a moment to recognize it. When she did, she nearly sobbed with joy. Assurjan! If she was able to sense him, he was close, very close- perhaps he was even inside the tomb already. Please...

Calvario froze; he had felt the Ancient approaching as well. Muttering a curse, he began to rise to his feet, just as the door to the tomb's inner chamber crashed open.

Assurjan flowed into the room like death itself, sword raised in one hand, magicka sparking brightly in the other. It was over in moments, or perhaps Raema fell unconscious again; it was difficult to tell which. It seemed as if she merely blinked, and Calvario was on the ground, a charred, shriveled heap of flesh, as if Assurjan had unleashed several spells at once in his fury.

Then the Ancient was kneeling at her side, dropping his sword to the floor with a clang. "Raema..." he breathed, and the emotion in his voice made her breath catch in her throat. He freed her hands, and gently rolled her onto her back.

"Oh, gods, Assurjan!" She gasped, struggling to sit up. He slipped an arm under her shoulders to lift her, and she clung to him desperately, the tears finally escaping. He held her tightly, one hand stroking her hair while she shuddered. "Assurjan, I-"

"Hush," he interrupted her. "Raema, we must leave this place. Quarra may still come back for us both. Can you walk?"

She shook her head, and made herself lean back enough to look at him. The chills were coming back, or perhaps the stress was finally catching up with her. She was trembling all over. "I don't think so," she said, teeth chattering.

He gazed at her, eyes pale and deeper with emotion than she could remember ever seeing. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then only nodded instead. Easing her down carefully, he shrugged out of his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. She saw him glance at the bites that marked her, and his face darkened, but he said nothing. After untying her ankles, he sheathed his sword and then lifted her effortlessly in his arms, holding her close.

Feet dangling, Raema wrapped her arms around his neck. He was solid, truly there, and she clung to him, half afraid that he would disappear if she let him go.

"Your weapons?" He asked, glancing around the tomb.

Raema shook her head. "Quarra took them."

She felt him tense around her; a muscle twitched along his jaw. He made for the door, leaving Calvario's decimated corpse where it had fallen. Shuddering, Raema shut her eyes as they left.

Outside, the air was humid, and cool with the chill of pre-dawn. The sky was still dark, but the birds of the Grazelands had already begun their early morning chorus. Assurjan covered ground with a hurried efficiency, striding south and east. Still shivering in his arms, Raema struggled to keep awake, knowing that the danger of blood loss had not yet passed. If she drifted off now, she still might not awaken.

They sped through the darkness, racing the dawn. With a start, Raema realized that the sky was brightening; she could not remember seeing the land race by, but they were out of the Grazelands now. Dawn continued to creep closer, illuminating the eastern horizon with a diffuse glow, and she began to grow nervous. If they didn't find shelter soon...

To her relief, they rounded a hill moments later and came upon an Ashlander yurt, nestled by itself among the rocks. Assurjan halted, watching the little encampment; there were no signs of life, and the firepit was cold.

He crouched and set her on the ground. "Wait here," he breathed, almost soundlessly. She nodded, but he was already gone, slipping through the shadows to investigate.

Wake up, Raema told herself, glancing around nervously. She wished Assurjan had left her a weapon; though she was not at all confident she could use one if she had it. Grimacing, she struggled to her feet; it took a long time to get upright, and she had to cling to a nearby stone as a wave of nausea seized her. Just let us find shelter for the day, she thought foggily, too desperate to worry much about the Ashlanders who owned the yurt. We only need a place to rest.

In the grey light, she saw Assurjan's silhouette duck out of the yurt and come back to her. "It appears abandoned," he said in a low voice. "It will be safe enough."

Raema pushed herself away from the rocks, managing two steps before blackness swamped over her vision. Lightheaded, she staggered, and Assurjan caught her arms to steady her.

"I can make it," she mumbled stubbornly. Without a word, Assurjan swept her into his arms once more. Raema opened her mouth to protest, and found herself leaning her head on his shoulder instead.

She caught only glimpses of the yurt: round walls of hide, baskets hanging from the low ceiling, a lighted candle on a table. Assurjan set her gently on a bedroll, then stepped away. She heard rustling noises, as if he were rifling through the contents of the yurt. Gods, it would feel so good just to close her eyes, to rest...

"Not yet, Raema," came his voice, jerking her back from the edge of sleep. She mumbled an incoherent protest and turned her head away.

Cool, strong fingers were laid against her cheek, turning her back to face him. "Raema," he said sharply. "You cannot sleep yet. Open your eyes."

There was an urgency in his voice that she knew she should understand, but her eyelids felt so heavy... it could hardly be worth the effort to lift them, could it? But it was Assurjan, and surely she could mange to do such a little thing for his sake. She felt him lift her up to a sitting position, and she managed to pry her eyelids open.

His eyes were pale and worried as they swam into focus. He was holding a glass bottle up to her lips; she had no idea where it had come from. "Drink."

She was thirsty, she realized, swallowing around a dry lump in her throat. She let him tip the bottle up against her lips, and drank. The potion tasted sickly sweet; whatever it was had begun to spoil, but he held it there until she had finished it. Warmth began to spread through her; not the unnatural fever-heat of before, but a genuine warmth that was dispelling her chills. The dull aches of the bites on her body eased a bit, and she no longer felt so nauseous.

He took the empty bottle away and eased her down onto her back. "Now you may sleep," he murmured.

Don't leave, she wanted to say, but the darkness claimed her first.

She slept like the dead; several times he went closer, just to make certain she was still breathing. The healing potion he'd found had helped, fading away some of the bruises that marred her skin, but fury at Quarra and Calvario still made his teeth clench when he looked at her. She was deathly pale with the loss of blood, and fang marks still lined the veins along her slender throat. There were more elsewhere, he knew, and he clenched his fists until they ached, thinking of what else Calvario had done to his Hand. He almost wished he had not destroyed the other vampire so quickly. The undead scum deserved a much slower, more painful death for what he had done.

That will be reserved for Volrina Quarra, he told himself, settling down cross-legged where he could watch both Raema and the yurt's entrance. She will pay for what she has done to my Hand, and to my clan.

Thoughts of Juraene clan hurt nearly as much as thoughts of Raema. For the first time, he allowed himself to think about Irarak's betrayal. It was well past dawn, now; he wondered if Quarra was still at Telasero. He did not allow himself to hope that she had been defeated. His clan had had no warning, no time to prepare.

No Ancient to protect them.

He gritted his teeth. In any case, there was nothing he could do but wait out the daylight. If Quarra was still in his stronghold, she would be trapped there until nightfall, unless she Recalled out... something he wished he had taken the time to prepare for himself before he'd left. In either case, she would be long gone by the time he and Raema returned. She, and his clan, and everything he had worked so hard to build for his vampires would be gone.

He realized his lip had curled into a snarl, and he made himself take a deep breath, searching for calm. It would be dealt with, one way or another. He glanced at Raema, hoping the sight of her, deeply asleep, would help settle his agitation.

Almost at the same instant, she lurched in her sleep, head tossing restlessly. "No," she gasped out, still sleeping. Assurjan pressed his lips together, once again facing the choice to wake her from her nightmares. She needed to rest... but how much rest could she get, with dreams like that?

"No... please," she said, and the broken entreaty in her voice made his heart constrict. Was she reliving Calvario's torture? Or-

She cried out his name, desperate, and he was on his feet immediately, unable to resist that plea. He knelt beside her, murmuring her name, brushing her disheveled hair from her eyes. She jerked awake at the touch, staring up at him with dark, unfocused eyes.

"It is all right," he said softly. Distantly, he cringed at the thought that she might have been dreaming of him, only to awaken with him looming over her. "Go back to sleep, Raema."

"You saved me," she murmured, sounding half-surprised, and half-asleep. He wasn't sure if she meant from her dream, or from Calvario. Perhaps both.

Not soon enough, he thought, stroking her hair. "I am here," he managed to say. "Sleep, Raema."

She gave him a drowsy smile, and closed her eyes once more. In moments her breathing had eased back into the steady rhythm of deep sleep. His cloak that he had wrapped around her had slipped; he covered her again, and stayed at her side, to wait out the daylight.

Everything had finished by the time Irarak arrived. That was some relief, at least; he would not have to watch Assurjan's people be killed, see the betrayal in their eyes when they looked at him.

Seeing it in Assurjan's eyes had already been too difficult.

Slowly, Irarak climbed the steps of Telasero, skirting around several corpses that he did not stop to inspect. Atop the stronghold, Hlaalu fighters were working by torchlight, tending their wounded or carrying items out of the fortress. A few started when they saw him, hands straying towards weapons, until they recognized him as Quarra's pet, and turned back to their work.

Not a threat, Irarak snarled in his head, lip twisting. A danger only to the ones I don't wish to hurt. He shoved past a pair of armored Nords and entered the stronghold.

It stank of violence, as if the air retained the screams and the fighting as a scent. The sensation overwhelmed even the true scent of spilled blood. He made for Assurjan's chambers, knowing he would find her there.

The library was in total disarray, all Assurjan's carefully collected books spilled across the floor, trod upon. Some lay in pools of blood, their pages soaking it up. Irarak stepped carefully over them. He found Volrina Quarra in Assurjan's bedchamber, rummaging carelessly through the Juraene Ancient's desk. The Imperial, Talintus, still lay where Irarak had left him hours earlier.

"There you are!" She exclaimed, shoving aside a stack of papers to reveal a soul gem, which she tucked into a bag on the desk. She gave him a fiercely wicked smile; there was a smudge of blood at one corner of her mouth. And more, drying dully on her glass armor. "You missed the best part."

Irarak stopped in the doorway, and spread his hands in a vague apology. "I am not a fighter, my lady. I would only have been in the way."

By way of reply, the Ancient gave a derisive snort and returned to her search of the desk.

Irarak glanced around the room. He was suddenly acutely conscious of Raema's makeshift bed, in the hallway behind him. He hoped she was alright.

"I almost forgot," Quarra said casually, turning towards him again. She tossed him a key, and he caught it reflexively, even as his mind flinched, remembering the last time she had thrown him something.

"A reward for your hard work. That is the key to the Alen tomb. You'll find one of your vampires there. Saril, or something similar...?"

Sarvil, he thought, closing his fist around the key. "And the others?"

"Ah," she said, as if surprised he would ask. "It seems they somehow got caught up in the confusion of the battle. A pity you weren't here earlier, you might have seen them. If any survived, they will be prisoners of the Hlaalu."

"What?" It came out strangled.

Quarra's smile vanished. "You might have ruined all of it," she said, frighteningly calmly. "Be glad that Assurjan did not heed your warning. If he had, your people would be dead- just as thoroughly as the Juraene, I promise you- rather than captured."

She knew. "How did you..." The triumphant look on her face made him realize his error. She had only guessed, and he'd just confirmed it.

"Be very grateful that your vampires only changed hands- rather than losing them," Quarra said darkly. "You have been very useful, Irarak, but I am not finished with you. Avoid making mistakes like that again, and I will convince the Hlaalu to let your people go. Otherwise... well, they hope to rid the island of all vampires. Including yours."

Irarak stared at her, rage boiling at the edges of his vision. Gods, he wanted to strike her, to use his new strength and shatter every bone-

As if reading his thoughts, she smiled again. With a wave of her hand, a fearsome weight sank onto Irarak's shoulders. Grunting, he dropped to one knee, palms on the floor, straining to keep from flattening himself on the stone under the sorcerous weight.

"It takes more than a few weeks' feeding to rival an Ancient, Irarak," Quarra said softly, her boots clinking on the stone floor. He could not lift his head. In his limited field of vision, he could see her from the knees down. She dropped into a chair, facing him. "Do you think you are strong enough to beat me already?"

Hissing through his teeth, Irarak rolled his eyes upward to see her leaning her elbows on her knees, watching him intently. She was no longer smiling.

"Just a bit more," she murmured, her fingers beginning to glow with another spell, "and I could crush you to the floor. I suggest you avoid making rash decisions, Irarak."

His neck cramping under the strain of meeting her eyes, Irarak glared at her, and silence stretched for another long minute before she dissolved the Burden spell. He grimaced as the weight disappeared, leaving him feeling weak and unbalanced.

Quarra began unbuckling her bracer. "You may as well feed. After all, we have an agreement, don't we." It was not a question.

"No," Irarak forced out, though his hunger was already rising. It fractured the word into layers, giving the lie to his refusal. Gods, he wanted to drink! Not her blood, but the power that came with it, that raced through his own veins whenever he took it. The power to equal her, someday, and indulge that vision of destroying her.

Quarra raised her eyebrows. "You will refuse me? I think that unwise, Irarak. If you break our agreement, there is no telling what I might do in turn. Or who I might ask the Hlaalu to execute first."

Irarak remained on his knees, knowing what he must choose and unwilling to do it. It was not truly a choice, but he hesitated anyway, wishing he could simply say No to the Ancient.

But that was why she insisted, of course. She couldn't allow him to begin saying no.

"Fine," he snarled, and rose to his feet.

Quarra held up one finger, laughing softly. There was no humor in it. "I did not tell you to stand, Irarak."

He stared at her. "I will not crawl for you, my lady."

"Not for me," she said sweetly. "Do it for Tredere, and anyone else you hope to see alive again."

Gods, how easily she could manipulate him! Irarak swallowed harshly, while she watched with glittering eyes. He clenched his fists; he would be damned to Oblivion before he used his hands. His robe dragged through dust and drying blood as he shuffled across the floor, upright on his knees. She watched him the whole time, returning his glare with a coolly blank expression.

Only when he stopped at her feet and lowered his eyes did she offer him her wrist. He seized it in a crushing grip, feeling her bones grinding under his hand. She didn't flinch.

"Someday, my lady, you will regret giving me so much power," he hissed, before roughly sinking his teeth into her flesh. He did it messily, as if to tear out a mouthful; and he let a good bit of blood spill out from between his lips. Let her know how much I think it worth!

Leaning over him, Quarra watched him feed, her eyes glinting.

Jole awoke with a headache like smith's hammers beating against his skull. Groaning, he rubbed at his eyes with one hand, and it took a long moment before he realized that half the pounding was the sound of someone knocking insistently at his door.

"Coming!" He shouted hoarsely, clambering to his feet. "Just stop pounding, for Vivec's sake!" Mercifully, the knocking stopped. He let out a sigh of relief as he lit the lantern.

Outside, in the bright morning sunlight, Dram Bero stood waiting and looking none too pleased about it. When he saw Jole, though, he frowned in concern. "What in the name of the Three happened to you?"

"I'm fine," Jole grunted, squinting at him. "Come in, please, councilor."

"I regret that I don't have the time. Come with me, if you please; I have something I need you to see." The councilor took a few steps away, as if expecting Jole to follow him right that moment.

Jole stared at him, annoyed. It was far too bright outside for his liking. And who did Bero think he was? "Give me a moment," he said, and shut the door on the Dunmer.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he frowned around the room he called home. Volrina Quarra had been careful not to leave any of his weapons behind when she finally left him alone in that fishing shack. He would have to make do with his spares, for now. It was the work of a few moments to retrieve them from the chest, strap them on and run a hand through his hair. When he stepped outside, squinting into the light that only intensified his headache, Dram Bero was still waiting, arms folded. Without a word, he strode away, beckoning to Jole. Grumbling to himself, the hunter hurried after him.

As they ducked into the waistworks, the bright sun ceased to pound against his eyeballs, and Jole let out a sigh of relief. Waking up after being vampire food was far worse than a morning after drinking too much schein.

When they were out of earshot from other citizens, Bero said in a low voice, "I'm glad I found you. We were trying to reach you for the last two days. Where have you been?"

Nearly getting myself killed. Losing my friend to one of the worst vampires I know. Feeding an Ancient til I had hardly any blood left in me, Jole thought sourly.

"Hunting."

Bero cast him a sideways glance, eying the bites on his neck. "Must have been...tough."

Jole shrugged. "I'm going to see a healer today. Why were you looking for me?"

The Dunmer didn't answer, only led Jole lower into the canton. Bero was taking him into the Underworks, it seemed, and a sense of foreboding began to creep into Jole's thoughts. He wrinkled his nose in the Underworks' sour air.

"I have to say, councilor, a less confident man might be worried for his safety, being dragged down here with no explanation, by a man he hardly knows."

The Hlaalu didn't spare him a glance. "This way; hurry." Bero turned off the walkway, wading into the shallow water that ran down a side tunnel.

It was quite obviously a dead end; Bero turned and crouched against the wall, beckoning Jole closer.

"You know, this isn't really helping your reputation as an eccentric," Jole remarked, crouching next to the Dunmer.

"Shut up," Bero hissed fiercely, grasping Jole's shoulder. With his free hand, he touched an amulet at his throat, and a disconcerting wave of nausea washed over Jole. An invisibility enchantment, he realized- hardly the thing to spring on a man who was already sick. Swallowing back bile, he glared at the space where the Dunmer's head should have been, and-

-Forgot to be angry, as a presence burst into his awareness, one that he had come to recognize all too well. What in the name of all the gods...?

Slowly, carefully, he leaned forward to peer around the corner. Volrina Quarra was striding towards him, and his heart leapt into his throat as she seemed to look directly at him. As he reached for his blade, though, she turned aside, ducking into the shrine to Sheogorath that the Temple had never been able to shut down completely. She hadn't seen him.

Before he could move, a light flashed further down the walkway, bringing another vampire... another presence he could sense, too, but that was impossible, surely? He recognized the undead Dunmer. It was Assurjan's friend Irarak- but the Berne vampire had never before been strong enough for Jole to sense him. Jole squinted at him, as the vampire followed Quarra into the shrine.

When it seemed that no one else was going to Recall into the Underworks, Jole eased back into the tunnel, and nearly fell over as the spell faded away.

"A little warning would have been nice!" He snarled in a near-whisper, struggling to his feet through the dizziness. He grasped the hilt of his blade, very near to drawing it on the councilor "What if she'd seen me? Do you think I'm prepared to fight off an Ancient with this buggering thing?"

"It was just as dangerous for me," Bero said cryptically, and it seemed that was as close to an apology as he would give. "That is why I was looking for you yesterday. I had hoped that, in the confusion of the battle, you could... take care of this problem for us."

Jole blinked, still feeling off-balance. "What battle?"

"Last night, Volrina Quarra led our forces in an attack on Juraene clan in Telasero. It went well; Juraene's Ancient was not there. Still, you would have been a great asset... especially if you could have gotten rid of Quarra for us."

Jole managed, just barely, not to gape. He reached out and braced a hand on the wall of the tunnel, as nonchalantly as he could. Bloody Oblivion... Raema wasn't bait in a trap for Assurjan at all... not the way I thought.

"She led you? I don't understand, councilor."

The Dunmer fixed him with deep red eyes. "While I agree that ridding the island of vampires will make the House look quite good, it will be nothing but scandal if word gets out that we are working with another vampire to do it. I'll thank you to be discreet about this," he added, his stare intensifying.

Jole ignored it. "So you want me to get rid of her for you. I hope you are prepared to pay handsomely, councilor. This won't be easy."

"If it were easy, I'd do it myself." The Dunmer smiled, unexpectedly. "You need not worry on that account, Ser Devan. Now that the vampires' lands are ours, we will be able to pay everyone handsomely."

I should have guessed, Jole thought. No wonder they wanted Juraene clan out of the way. It's all about money, with the Hlaalu.

Bero glanced over his shoulder. "I must go speak with her," he said, reluctantly. "Afterward, I will be going to Balmora, to meet with the other councilors. I believe she will join us there soon; we have captives there, as well. I will hope to see you there, Ser Devan." With a final nod, he slipped away.

Balmora... Hlormaren is just outside the village. I'd bet my knives that that's where they are. From one stronghold to another. Jole wondered if the propylon chambers had had anything to do with Juraene's fall.

Wagering his knives was pointless, he remembered, as he scowled down at the second-rate hilt in his hand. The weaponsmith first, he thought firmly. Then the healer... And then, he would go to Telasero, and Balmora, to see what he could learn about the fate of Juraene clan. He owed Raema that much, at least.

Trying not to dwell too much on the thought that he didn't know whether his friend was even still alive, he made his way silently back to the upper levels of the city. Assurjan will find her. She will be all right...

And Quarra... A fierce, hungry grin spread across his face. The next time he faced her, he would not be taken by surprise.