"Micha and Sitha, General."

At the announcement, Kite stepped forwards, leading Saryth into the cleared space in the middle of the small audience chamber. At the far side, the door was closing on the heels of the acrobat who'd been in front of them in line, even as behind her the door she'd come through was closed in the face of the singers who would come next. Apparently their audition would be private. Just as well.

Her first concern, that Vorannen wouldn't even be there, was immediately dispelled. He was seated in the middle of a row of five men, his drab green uniform standing out against the rich clothing of those sitting on either side of him. They looked bored and distracted. Kite and Saryth had been standing in line for nearly four hours, so if they'd spent all that time watching various performances, they must be heartily tired of it all by now. Even the four guards standing in the corners of the small chamber looked fed up. The only person paying attention was a clerk seated at a table to one side of the row of dignitaries, scribbling on a slate. He fixed Kite and Saryth with a beady gaze, then made more notes. Kite swallowed, her throat dry.

"Well?"

She started, then knelt as the guard outside had told her to do, tugging Saryth down beside her.

"We're musicians and scholars, my lord," she began her well-rehearsed speech. "We'd like your permission to stay with you, and learn of the music of your people..."

She tailed off. Vorannen wasn't even looking at them. A quick glance was all they'd merited, and even that was more than the other four men had offered. Her heart sank. He doesn't recognise us. Saryth squeezed her shoulder in reassurance, but she had run out of ideas. Maybe we should play something after all? She was just about to tell him to get the drums out when Vorannen leaned forward.

"Is there any reason I should permit you to stay here," he said, "when last time you ran riot in my castle, played havoc with my guards and burned down their favourite tavern?"

Kite let her breath out with a huff of relief.

"We want to talk to you," she said.

"You do, do you?" The men either side of Vorannen exchanged uneasy glances with each other.

"We..." Kite took a deep breath and tried again. "We want to exchange information."

"Hm. Come closer. " Kite stood up, and Saryth followed suit. The men around Vorannen were leaning away, but he paid no attention to their obvious unease. "Look at me," he commanded. "You too, ah, Micha. Take the blindfold off." Kite was aware of the sudden alertness from the guards around the room. The only person not staring at Saryth was the clerk, who was scowling at his tablet as he carried on writing. Saryth's sigh of relief was cut short as he took in the room and the wary hostility directed at him.

"If you come offering information," Vorannen said, "what's to stop me taking it?"

"Me." Saryth spoke up on cue. Kite eyed the guards, still a decent distance away.

"Oh?" Vorannen sounded amused and intrigued. Saryth held his hand out and flicked his fingers open in the move he'd practised back in Hebros. The brief, bright flare made the guards flinch back, and the men either side of Vorannen couldn't have leaned any further away without falling off their chairs. Vorannen's eyes narrowed as he stared at Saryth.

"Hmmmm," he said, then paused. Kite held her breath. This was the shakiest part of her plan. They were indeed in Vorannen's power, and now he knew their capabilities, it would be much easier to imprison them securely. If he wanted to imprison them. He probably wanted Saryth, but she felt her own well-being would be much less important to him, despite the information she had offered as bait.

"Will you give me your word that you will behave yourselves while you're here?" Vorannen said, and the man on his left made a strangled noise of protest, which he ignored. "And cause no damage to my people or my property?"

"If you will promise to neither harm nor hinder us, and that we may leave when we choose," Kite said, mentally crossing her fingers. So close!

"But of course." He smiled and spread his hands out in a weird sort of welcome. "You will be my honoured guests. Ishkar!"

"My lord?" An elderly man appeared from a small door behind Vorannen's chair.

"Show our guests to some rooms, please. And prepare a bath for them."

"Certainly, my lord. This way, please."

Kite didn't miss the thoughtful smirk on Vorannen's face as they followed his servant out of the room.

The rooms the servant showed them to were small but comfortable, two tiny sleeping chambers barely bigger than the single bed each held, and a main room with well-padded chairs and a fireplace. Even through his boots, Saryth could feel the softness of the carpet. He stopped just inside the door and fumbled to take them off before he got mud all over its delicate patterns.

"If there is any way I may assist, please let me know," the servant said as Kite bent to unlace her own boots. "I will have food sent up shortly, and a bath."

"Thank you," Kite said, and the door closed behind the man. Boots now off, Saryth went in properly and dropped his bag on the floor by one of the chairs.

"This is very nice," he said.

"I honestly thought he didn't recognise us!" Kite flopped into the other chair.

"What would you have done then?"

"I have no idea."

"So - what now?" He perched on the edge of his chair, not trusting himself to relax into it just yet.

"Now? Now we eat, and wash. And wait."

"Sounds good. The food and bath, anyway. Are we getting rid of the hair dye?"

Kite sat up and frowned in thought. "I think it would be best if we didn't, actually. They might not know me, but they would you. You're quite distinctive." There was a tap at the door, and she brightened. "Oh, that's the water, I hope. Enter!"

It was indeed the water, and it was wonderfully warm, and the chance to wash properly with soap was almost worth all the risk of walking into Vorannen's clutches. Saryth took his time, glad to leave behind not only the miserable blindfold but also the odd clothing and the uncomfortable braid. It felt very good to be able to don his normal clothes again, even if they were crumpled from weeks spent crammed into his bag. He sat by the fire to let his hair dry while Kite completed her own ablutions.

"Better?" he asked as she emerged from her sleeping chamber, dressed in the familiar red tunic and braiding her damp hair.

"Much!" She sat down in the other chair and grinned at him.

"What now?"

"We wait, I suppose."

As though in response, there came a knock at the door, which proved to be another servant, dressed in similar livery to Ishkar, with a formal message.

"The General extends his best wishes to you both and requests the pleasure of your company at his table this evening."

"Thank you," Kite said. "We would be honoured to accept."

The room to which they were shown that evening was large and well-appointed, the wooden floor glossy with polish, and tall, elegant columns adorning the corners. In the middle was a round table large enough for eight people, but only three places were set, at equal distances from each other. Vorannen was standing by the tall windows on the far side, looking out over the city as the sun set.

"Your guests, my lord General," said the servant who had led them to the room, a different one again. Was that deliberate, to stop them making friends with any of the staff? He promised we could leave when we choose. Kite fought her worries down as Vorannen turned to smile at them.

"Ah, come in. Please, be seated."

What followed was the weirdest meal Kite had ever eaten in all the worlds. The food was excellent, not overly rich but superbly cooked, and the service was silent and skilled. It came as a relief that there was no wine or any other alcoholic drink on offer, because if there had been it would have been exquisite, and Kite couldn't risk it. They ate in perfect silence, apart from the occasional command given to the server, and the wait picked and fretted her nerves until she could barely face the after-dinner coffee. She hadn't eaten much, but her stomach felt heavy with dread. She held the coffee cup to stop herself fidgeting, and tried to relax her grip on the delicate porcelain. Breaking his cup is not going to be a good start.

When Vorannen finally spoke, it was a relief. "So," he said, after the servant bearing the coffee had left, "what information did you wish to share?"

"The truth," Kite said, feeling as though she were at the top of a snowy slope, seated on an inadequate toboggan.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "The whole truth?"

"As much as I can." She took a deep breath. "I have lied before. I'm sorry."

"I know," he said, and took a sip. "You're a terrible liar." The comment made her bristle, which was a ridiculous reaction. I don't want to be a good liar! Do I? Vorannen rubbed one finger over his mouth, but he was clearly smiling. Smirking. "So, tell me what you can."

Kite paused, took a deep breath, tried to keep control. He's doing it on purpose. Stick to the facts. "My people have known how to cross worlds for centuries." Just like that, it came out so easily. "Recently, we found a world in darkness. It had lost its sun. The part of the sun that shines had gone missing. So I... and a lot of people... went looking for it." Now that she had started, the words were coming fast, and she paused to drink coffee, put the brakes on. Her hands were trembling on the cup. "Saryth recognised what you were seeking when he joined your Echo project. It's you and your mages who have pulled the sun out of true, I think. So we've come to ask you, please, to stop calling the sun, so we can return it to its home world."

"I see," was all he said, and she stared at her coffee cup. Whatever she had expected, it wasn't that. He went on before she could say anything. "But you could easily be trying to disarm and disempower me. I will not turn over the welfare of my people on the word of a pair of mystical vagabonds."

"Your people?" Kite stared at him. The people he had conquered, the people who hated his rule? For the entire time she and Saryth had been travelling in disguise, nobody they'd met on the road had had anything good to say about him.

"But of course. The Echo project mages are searching for a being of great power, I can hardly deny that. But for my people. Do you know the history of this part of the world?"

"No."

"Suffice it to say that I feel we are weak, and this is not tolerable." He laced his hands together and fixed his gaze upon her. "The Echo project serves in the short term, for seeking out defensive power for my people, and also in the long term, where only knowledge, in the end, will prevail. Surely you can see that? I can't just throw all that out on your unsupported word. Have you any evidence? Can you show me this world of yours?"

"I can't," Kite admitted, feeling her position crumbling. "It's not stable, and I don't know the coordinates. And I can't take you anywhere... anywhere else."

"Well. It appears we are at an impasse." He stood up, holding one hand up as they both made to push their chairs back. "I must go, but you can take your time. Enjoy the coffee." He walked to the door, then paused. "Oh, by the way, I suggest you keep to your rooms while you are here. Your colour changes are quite effective, but you did make quite a splash when you were last here." He gave them a thin smile, an unsettling expression. "I should hate to have to deal with difficulties. Andrin will show you the way back. Good night."

Vorannen was too busy to talk with them the following day, and none of the servants could be persuaded to say anything other than the barest minimum necessary. Saryth hadn't even seen the same one twice. Shut up in their small suite with no real way to do anything if Vorannen wasn't free, Kite spent hours talking to herself in her chamber, working through the options. Saryth sat by the window and stared at the tree outside and the city beyond, and tried not to listen too hard. It worried him when she started repeating herself.

The next day they did see Vorannen, over lunch this time, in a large hall with many long tables, although again they were alone apart from the servants who came and went with their food. Kite repeated and elaborated upon her request, to no avail.

"I'm afraid not," Vorannen said. "You've given me no proof and no reason to trust your word. You're going to have to be more persuasive than that."

"I've offered you all the knowledge I have of how to world walk!"

"I'm afraid that is not enough. While I would dearly like that knowledge, I won't buy it if it costs my people. The Echo project is important for our defence; I won't give it up for something I would simply like to have, like a self-indulgent child. Besides," and he spread his hands, "there is pleasure in the challenge itself. If you can offer me proof...?"

"I've already said I can't take you there," Kite said, and there was anger in her voice. "What else would do?"

"Mmm." Vorannen swirled the water in his cup. "You want us to stop looking for this being. So you must provide something in its place. That seems fair to me, if you can't provide proof." He put the cup down and stood up. "I'm willing to bargain, Kite, but I will not compromise this country's security on the word of two foreign mages, one of whom is a convicted murderer. I'm sorry."

After he had gone, Kite stared at the table for a long time. Saryth watched her, but whatever she was thinking, she kept it inside.

"Kite?" he asked, when the silence had stretched thin.

"Mmm?" She looked up.

"Why can't we take him to Harien? The coordinates wouldn't be hard to find, would they?"

"No, not really. But Harien's loss is easy to overlook."

"What?" Saryth scrambled to follow her as she started for the door. How could it be -

"It's a dark, grey world," Kite said. The servant at the door nodded politely and started up the corridor, leading the way back to their suite. "There is a little light, which fades slightly at dusk. It's always cloudy, hard to see, and always raining. Aeryn is an, um, essential part of the sun, but not all of it. It would be all too easy to dismiss it as a bad day."

"So how do you know..." he trailed off, uncertain how to finish the question. The servant turned a corner and bowed them to their door.

"That it's missing something?" Kite pushed the door open and held it for him to go inside. "One of our people was there when it happened. We have an eyewitness account of the event, and detailed data from the months since." She went to sit in front of the glowing embers of the fire while Saryth shut the door and took off his boots. "It has not stopped raining in the Tropics. The deserts are dull and dry. There is no wind. Plants and animals are dying. So are people, for no apparent reason. There's been no creativity since then, either. The people are sunk in apathy. It's dying by degrees."

Saryth came over and stirred up the fire with the poker. "Can't we get help from your people?"

"Those who would help are already looking, and I have no idea where they are. The assignment was on the board for a month before I started, and there was no limit on accepting Seekers. I don't know who else to ask. We don't normally interfere in worlds, no matter what." Her voice wobbled, and she put her hand over her eyes, but carried on. "Anyway, Vorannen's answer would remain the same. What else could be offered?"

The rest of that day was spent in silence. There was no invitation to an evening meal, just a tray with soup, bread and cheese provided to them shortly after sunset. Kite spent the evening staring at the fire. She barely touched the food, and went to bed early, as though she'd been waiting for an invitation and the meal on the tray was a harsh rejection. Saryth went to his small chamber at the same time, but he couldn't sleep. He couldn't get her face out of his mind. Couldn't forget what Pyetr had said. Killing is a crime, but if it's for the sake of a world, some might consider it justified. But Kite didn't think of it that way. Her choice and her burden to bear. She chose that when she accepted the quest.

But what is my choice?

He spent a long time thinking, one ear open for Kite's movements, but as far as he could tell she was actually asleep. I hope she stays asleep. For all of this. He dressed carefully, then slipped out of his chamber and picked up his boots at the door. On the other side, the guard waited while he pulled them on, then led him along the corridor, up the stairs and knocked on an unremarkable door.

"Come in," Vorannen said from the other side, then, as the guard opened the door, "ah, Saryth. I thought something like this would happen. Vytiro, you may leave."

"Sir," said the aide with him, slipping quickly out past Saryth and closing the door, leaving them alone in the room.

"Sorry?" Saryth felt wrongfooted already. This was a mistake.

"Never mind. What is it?" He turned his back to Saryth, picking up the papers Vytiro had left on the desk, shuffling them into a neat pile. Saryth tried to ignore the implication. It didn't matter what Vorannen thought of him, so long what the general heard what he said.

"It's like this," he said. "Kite can't get help. The entire world is dying and she feels responsible. If you won't stop, she'll feel she has to do something."

"To me?"

"Yes."

"And?" Vorannen put the papers in a small shelf on the desk and turned.

"Sorry?" That wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting.

Vorannen smiled. "It's fine if she wants to threaten. I've been expecting it."

"If she does that," Saryth said, "it will destroy her."

"What?" It was the first time in all their conversations that Vorannen had looked taken aback.

"You can't make a threat and not intend to carry it out if necessary," Saryth said. Surely he knows that? "You will make her choose between murder and letting a world die."

Vorannen stared at him, then put one hand to his head, rubbing his eyes as though tired. "So what are you saying?"

Saryth couldn't meet his eyes, but he managed to get the words out. "That if you don't let Aeryn go, I won't let Kite do that to herself."

"Are you threatening me, then?"

"I think so. But not with death." With an effort, he made himself look up. I mean this. He has to know that I mean it. Has to know I can do it. The words were heavy on his tongue. "If you don't let Aeryn go, I will sever the connection between your brain and your body's conscious muscles. You will see, hear and feel, but be unable to move or communicate. And I will be nearby, to maintain that for as long as you live."

Vorannen folded his arms and gave him a long, thoughtful look. "And does that give you the moral high ground? That you wouldn't be killing?"

Saryth ducked his head, a violent shudder running through him. His hair fell down around his face, the familiar refuge giving him a tiny bit of comfort even now. "At this level, debating which is worse is just semantics. They're both abhorrent." He hunched his shoulders as though to keep horror away.

"You're doing this for her sake," Vorannen said, apparently unmoved by the threat, "but if you stay here, you'll lose her. Why not just kill me?"

"Because incapacitating you is more likely to immobilise your army and your projects. A country with a sick leader is very different from one with a martyred leader."

"And here I thought she was the brains."

"She is," Saryth said, raising his head in time to see Vorannen smile just a bit, one hand coming up to hide his mouth.

"I think that's the first time either of you has been wholly honest with me," he said. "I can tell when you're not giving me the whole truth, but I can't tell what that truth is." He turned and went to the study's window. It was smaller than the one in the first chamber where they'd eaten, but it still offered a fine view of the city. Even in darkness the glimmer of lamplights exhibited its size and vitality. His people, Saryth remembered him saying. The silence stretched out, and the doubts crept in. He doesn't believe me. And worse, he'd never have turned his back on me if he believed I was a threat to him.

"Very well," Vorannen said, turning to face him.

"Sorry?"

"I believe you." He folded his arms again. "Or I believe you are sincere, which isn't quite the same thing. I'm not so set on my course that I will ignore prudence, nor a genuine request. I will cancel the Echo project."

"Really?" Saryth could hardly take it in. It worked?

"But not for your threats," Vorannen added, leaning in, and Saryth flinched back from the sudden cold menace in his voice.

"What?"

"You used burning powder in the court room. I have a shield over this entire castle. I do not believe you can carry out your threat, Saryth." He stepped back and waved one hand in dismissal. "You may go."

"I meant it," Saryth said, before he could stop himself. No, no, stop it, this isn't necessary, he said he would cancel the project -

"Really." The scepticism in Vorannen's voice silenced the pestering doubts.

"Really." He stretched out his hand and pushed past the dampening shield, drawing the magic, feeling it pouring in until there was enough to work despite the shield. Fire flared around his hand in a swirling shimmer of colour that flickered in Vorannen's eyes. Despite his composure, they had widened just a bit.

"Indeed," he said, and his voice gave nothing away. "I will have to work on the shielding."

Saryth stalked out of the door, feeling vindicated. He did not hear it shut behind him, nor did he see Vorannen close his eyes in private relief, face pale behind the closed door. The guard paid no attention to his mood, just started off down the corridor again, and by the time Saryth got to their suite, the reaction had set in. His hands shook as he fumbled his boots off and scurried into his chamber to curl up on the bed, trembling and nauseous.

Kite had drifted in and out of uneasy sleep all night, her dreams fretful and full of vague dread which only sharpened as she drifted towards wakefulness. Saryth's quick footfalls and the creak of the bed woke her properly, and she sat up, feeling more tired than when she'd lain down.

"Saryth?" She got out of bed and twitched the curtain of his chamber aside, both relieved and concerned to see he was fully dressed. "Saryth?"

A knock at the door interrupted her.

"What is it?"

Yet another servant came in and bowed as though it wasn't the middle of the night and she in her nightgown. "My lady, the General wishes to see you."

"Now? Just a minute." She went back to her chamber and pulled on her trousers, then tugged her tunic on over the nightgown. No time for the belt or her braids, so she gathered her hair back into a loose ponytail instead. "I'm coming."

The servant led the way along the corridor and up some stairs to a door, which opened to reveal a study and Vorannen standing there looking as awake and composed as though it was noon.

"My lord," the servant said, bowed and withdrew. Vorannen smiled, and Kite felt her stomach tighten. What happened? What - was it Saryth?

"Ah, Kite. Thank you for coming at such an odd hour."

"What is it?" She didn't have the energy to talk around things.

"I thought you might like to know, I spoke with Saryth just now. At length." Vorannen shrugged. "He was really quite, mm, persuasive."

"What did he say?" Kite asked, feeling an ominous edge to the conversation that she didn't understand.

"So I have agreed to cancel the Echo project." Vorannen dipped his head with a friendly smile.

"What -" That should have been good, but it wasn't. Dread thickened in her throat.

"It's not such a loss, really." He waved his hands as though dismissing a problem. "There are plenty of things for them to get their teeth into. Even without your Saryth, there's a lot of strength there."

"What did he say?! Please!"

Vorannen dropped his theatrics and leaned in close, his expression intent with curiosity. Kite stared back, feeling the onset of tears that she didn't have the capacity to hold back.

"It matters so much to you, doesn't it?" he said. "Would it trouble you that badly if he threatened to kill me?" She shut her eyes and ducked her head. Stop it, stop it stop it! "It would, wouldn't it?" he mused. "Rare innocence. It must take some clinging to. Set your mind at ease. He did not threaten murder."

"He didn't?" Kite looked up at him. She couldn't see a lie, but surely Vorannen would be a good liar? But why would he lie about this? "Then how -"

"He was very convincing."

"But -"

"You're welcome to stay, but I expect you'll be wanting to leave soon. Let the stewards know when you're ready to go."

The dismissal was welcome, but it paled beside the flood of relief that washed over her. Vorannen had agreed! He had agreed! Everything would be all right now! She smiled through tears.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Good night," Vorannen said, as she left his study to follow the servant back to their suite.

By the time she got there, doubts had set in. Why had Vorannen given in? He had said only that Saryth had not threatened murder. He had said ‘persuasive.' There are many ways to persuade...

She opened the door and went to Saryth's chamber. He was still curled up on the bed, and as she came closer she could see he was trembling. Whatever he did, he's worried about it.

Whatever he did, he did for me. She swallowed. Like he did before.

I must not repeat the mistake I made then.

She knelt down beside the bed.

"Saryth. Thank you."

He raised his head, misery all over his face. "I -"

She put one finger to her lips. "Shh. I don't need to know what happened."

"Really?" He half turned to face her. "You promise? You'll forget? Completely?"

Kite stopped, taken aback by the hope and desperation in his voice. She opened her mouth, then shut it again before platitudes could escape. I have to mean this. I owe him sincerity.

He killed for my sake, and I never want him to do it again. But if I had that time again, in the forest near Dunburgh, I would never choose to leave him to the soldiers, whatever he'd done.

Is this so different?

He knew my impossible problem, and he found a way to solve it.

He gave me a gift, and the price he chose to pay is his business.

"Yes," she said, and for a wonder, her voice was steady as she promised, "I don't need to know. I don't want to know, unless you want to tell. I will never ask you about it."

She leaned forwards, and he fell into her embrace like he was drowning and she'd just offered him a rope. She clung to him just as tightly, because she knew it was the other way round.