It was a Dark Helm, drawn sword in hand and visor down. It hung there silently, peering around the hall from its height, looking at this man and then at that one. Then it turned abruptly away, as if angry, and… was gone.

"Searching for a wizard and finding none," Lhauntur said grimly, giving Rod another glance. "Wake the stable lads. I want runners going around the doubled guard all night through, making sure no one falls without the rest of us knowing."

"I'll fight at your side," Taeauna promised, shooting to her feet.

"You'll stay here, and your friend with you," the warsword replied curtly.

The Lord of Hollowtree put a hand on the Aumrarr's shoulder-he had to reach up to do it-and this time Taeauna left it there. She even leaned back against him and let the old lord murmur something comforting that Rod didn't hear, that brought a brief smile flashing across her face.

Oh, Christ, Rod thought to himself, there's so little I know about Falconfar. And if anything happens to Taeauna, I'll be alone here, and won't even know what mistakes I'm making.

Hmmm. Not so different from life back in the real world, after all.

No Dark Helms came that night, and in the morning Taeauna insisted they depart. The warsword and Lord Eldalar disagreed, but not forcefully enough to entirely hide their relief, even from Rod.

Lhauntur sent maids scurrying in all directions as the man who'd thought, just a day ago-had it been only a day ago? — he'd invented Falconfar, went behind the corner curtain to avail himself of the chamber pot.

Rod had spent the night in this cold stone room. Its only other furnishings were a blanket and a heap of straw for a bed that erupted in squeaking mice when the guard who'd brought him there kicked at and-then trod on it. It wasn't quite a jail cell, but the door had been firmly locked behind him, and Taeauna had slept somewhere else.