completely, especially Steff, who believed that he owed her his
life and who was in love with her. The knot tightened. He knew
that the horror he felt didn’t come from the possibility of be-
trayal-it came from the certainty of it.
Steff saw something of that horror mirrored in his eyes and
grappled angrily with him. “Where is she, Morgan? You know!
I can see it!”
Morgan did not try to break away. Instead, he faced his friend
and said, “I think I know. But you have to wait here, Steff. You
have to let me go after her.”
“No.” Steff shook his head adamantly, his scarred face knot-
ting. “I’m going with you.”
“You can’t. You’re too sick …”
“I’m going, Morgan! Now where is she?”
The Dwarf was shaking with fever, but Morgan knew that he
was not going to be able to free himself unless he did so by
force.’ ‘All right,” he agreed, taking a slow breath.’ ‘This way.”
He put his arm under his friend to support him and started
into the dark. He could not leave Steff behind, even knowing
how difficult it would make things having his friend along. He
would simply do what he must in spite of him. He stumbled
suddenly and fought his way back to his feet, hauling Steff up
with him, not having seen the coil of rope that lay on the ground
in his path. He forced himself to slow, realizing as he did so
that he hadn’t even taken time yet to think through what he had
surmised. Teel was the traitor. He must accept that. Steff could
not, but he must. Teel was the one . . .
He stopped himself.
No. Not Teel. Don’t call that thing Teel. Teel is dead. Or close
enough to being dead that there is no distinction to be made.
So, not Teel. The Shadowen that hid in Teel.
His breathing grew rapid as he hastened through the night,
Steff clinging to him. The Shadowen must have left her body
and taken Hirehone’s in order to follow Padishar’s little company
to Tyrsis and betray it to the Federation. Then it had abandoned
Hirehone’s body, returned to the camp, killed the watch because
it could not ascend the Jut unseen, and reinhabited Teel. Steff
had never realized what was happening. He had believed Teel
poisoned. The Shadowen had let him think as much. It had even
managed to cast suspicion on Hirehone with that tale of follow-
ing him to the bluff before falling into unconsciousness. He
wondered how long Teel had been a Shadowen. A long time,
he decided. He pictured her in his mind, nothing more than a
shell, a hollow skin, and his teeth ground at the image. He
remembered Par’s description of what it had been like when the
Shadowen on Toffer Ridge, the one who had taken the body of
the little girl, had tried to come into him. He remembered the
horror and revulsion the Valeman had expressed. That was what
it must have been like for Teel.
There was no further time to consider the matter. They were
approaching the main cave. The entrance was ablaze with torch-
light. Padishar Creel stood there. The outlaw chief was awake,
just as Morgan had hoped he would be, brilliant in his scarlet
clothing, talking with the men who cared for the sick and in-
jured, his broadsword and long knives strapped in place.
“What are you doing?” Steff cried angrily. “This is between
you and me, Morgan! Not him!”
But Morgan ignored his protestations, dragging him into the
light. Padishar Creel turned as the two men staggered up to him
and caught hold of them by the shoulders.
“Whoa, now, lads-slow down! What’s the reason for charg-
ing about in the dark like this?” The other man’s grip tightened
as Steff tried to break free, and the rough voice lowered. “Care-
ful, now. Your eyes say something’s frightened you. Let’s keep
it to ourselves. What’s happened?”
Steff was rigid with anger, and his eyes were hard. Morgan
hesitated. The others in Padishar’s company were looking at
them curiously, and they were close enough to hear what he