"That's right. Your blood magic clings to all it touches. And it sickens my people. There are those in my sept who would kill you where you stand, just for being Mettai. Fortunately for you, the a'laq isn't one of them."
"I'm grateful to your a'laq for his mercy. But I need food. I don't have to enter your sept. I don't even have to get near you. If you can bring me food to buy I can leave gold here. You can take it when I've gone."
"And if your gold is cursed?"
"It's not!" Sirj said.
The Fal'Borna shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't take you at your word. Not about this."
"You have magic that can tell you if I'm lying, don't you?"
The man narrowed his eyes and regarded him for several moments. Finally he nodded. "The magic you speak of is called mind-bending. It doesn't tell us when you're lying, but it can compel you to tell the truth. And I don't wield it; our a'laq does."
Compel you to tell the truth. About anything? Sirj didn't dare ask the question aloud for fear that it would give away too much. But he wished he had left the Fal'Borna while he still had the chance. He and Besh could look for roots and use the snare. If need be, they could go hungry for a night or two. Now, though…
"You would consent to this magic?" the man asked.
Having raised the possibility himself, how could he refuse?
"If it's the only way I can enter your village and buy food, yes, I'll consent to it."
The Fal'Borna seemed to consider this briefly. He glanced at the man beside him and said something in a whisper that Sirj couldn't hear. His companion nodded and responded, also in a whisper.
"Remain here, Sirj of the Mettai. We'll return shortly with an answer for you. If you come any closer to our sept, you'll be killed. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Sirj said.
The four riders wheeled their mounts around and rode back toward the shelters.
Watching them ride away, Sirj wondered whether he should flee or await their return.
And where would you hide? he asked himself. Now that they know to look for you, you'll be easy to spot.
The horse shook her head and stamped a foot impatiently.
"Yes, I know," Sirj said. "Besh would have been smarter. So would Lici for that matter."
If the Fal'Borna only asked him about the things he carried and if they were cursed, he'd be fine. But if they started asking him other questions-Do you know who's responsible for the pestilence that's killing our people? Can you lead us to her?-he'd be in trouble. He couldn't be certain what the Fal'Borna would do to him and Besh. But they'd kill Lici for sure, and chances were they'd be just as ruthless with her companions.
He shook his head, his stomach knotting itself like wet rope. Besh should have come instead of me.
Soon-far too soon-he saw the riders returning, with a fifth man at the head of their party. This man's horse might have been slightly larger than those of the warriors, but otherwise Sirj saw little in his appearance or attire to mark him as the a'laq.
Again the Fal'Borna riders stopped a short distance from where Sirj stood. The a'laq dismounted and stepped a bit nearer, but he seemed as leery as the others of coming too close. He appeared older than the warriors. His face was lined, his white hair somewhat thinner than that of the other men. But he stood taller than the rest, and was broader in the chest and shoulders. Even from this distance Sirj saw no tokens of his authority in his clothing, save for a small white stone that he wore at his throat on a thin cord.
"My name is F'Ghara," he said. "This is my sept. I understand that you wish to buy food from us."
Sirj nodded, wondering if custom demanded that he do more. Should he bow, or drop to one knee? "Yes, A'Laq. I've come a long way and have far to go. I need a good deal of food and will pay well for it."
"My warriors have told you why you can't enter the sept?"
"Yes. And I've told them that I mean your people no harm. You can use your magic to confirm that if you like."
"I intend to."
Sirj took a breath and nodded. "All right, then. What do I I… how does this work?"
"Where are you headed?" the a'laq asked.
He considered how to answer without giving away too much. To say simply that they were headed west would hardly satisfy the man. Sirj knew this.
It took him a moment to realize that he was already responding, that his mouth and his mind were no longer connected to one another.
"West," he said, unable to stop himself.
The a'laq frowned. "Where in the west?"
"I don't know."
The frowned deepened. "You don't know?"
"No."
"What is your business here?"
Sirj felt panic building inside him, like floodwater against an earthen dam. But somehow, through force of will, or, more likely, sheer dumb luck, his answer revealed nothing at all.
"I need food," his mouth said.
The a'laq opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. "Have you come here to spread the pestilence that's striking at my people?"
"No."
"Do you have any items with you that could harm us?"
"I carry a knife. All Mettai do."
"That's not.." The man shook his head again. "Are any of the items you carry cursed or poisoned or enchanted in any way?"
"No.,,
"So, you've just come here to buy food?"
"Yes."
"All right then," the a'laq muttered.
Other than finding that he had no control over what he said, Sirj hadn't been aware of the a'laq's hold on his mind. But when F'Ghara released him, he recognized the sudden absence of magic.
"You have a light touch, A'Laq," he said.
Abruptly the magic was on him again, more forceful this time, more intrusive.
"What are you doing here?" F'Ghara demanded, his expression deadly serious. "Why have you come to the plain?"
"We're looking for a merchant," Sirj said, again unable to stop himself.
"A merchant? Why?"
"Because he's selling cursed baskets. We have to stop him."
The a'laq blinked. "Who's 'we'?"
Sirj cringed, wondering how his mouth would answer. "Besh and me." "Besh?"
"My wife's father."
"And where is he?"
"In the hollow, east of here."
"Why didn't he come with you?"
And that's when Sirj knew he was a dead man. The other questions he'd somehow been able to answer honestly, without revealing too much. But not this one.
"He's with Lici."
"Who is Lici?"
"A madwoman, also Mettai."
F'Ghara's eyes widened and he took a step back, as if staggered by a blow. "A Mettai witch! Is she the one?" he asked. "Did she curse the baskets you're after?"
"Yes."
"And you're protecting her."
It wasn't a question. Sirj said nothing.
The a'laq appeared to realize his error. "Are you protecting her?"
"No. Well, yes. We captured her. We went after her to stop her from doing more harm. Now we're hoping she can help us find the merchant and undo her curse."
The a'laq rubbed a hand over his face. After a moment he glanced back at his warriors. "Leave us," he said.
"But, A'Laq-"
"I said, leave us. He can't hurt me, and I want to speak with him in private."
The warrior hesitated another moment, then inclined his head and steered his horse away. The other warriors followed him.
Once the others were away, the a'laq released Sirj from his magic once more.
"You know what you've told me," F'Ghara said. "And you know that I can control you again if I need to."
Sirj nodded, too frightened to speak.
"I want to understand. You and this… this Besh, you went after the woman because you knew what she was doing?"
"We didn't at first. Besh figured it out. She left our village one night, without anyone knowing why. Besh spent almost two turns trying to figure out where she had gone. It only came to him when word reached us of what was happening to the Y'Qatt near the Companion Lakes."