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A chill went down Surreal's spine. There was a funny buzzing in her head. "To Marian?"
"Do you remember the shack we stopped at when we got to Hayll?"
"Yes." Of course she remembered it. It was a couple of miles away from the camp. That was where Daemon had changed into the Sadist. One minute he had been carefully explaining about the sentries and the perimeter stakes that would alert the guards, and the next thing she knew, she was tied up and he was purring threats about how she should have stayed under Falonar and stayed out of his way. He had scared her, badly. And the fact that he had made her furious now. "You could have told me, you son of a bitch."
He looked up. "Would you have been as convincing?"
She bristled, insulted. "You're damn right I would have been."
"Well, we're going to have a chance to find out. You said you wanted to help, Surreal. That you were willing to be a diversion."
Shehad said that, but she'd thought she would have knownwhen she was being a diversion. "So?"
"So now you will be." He approached her, held up a small gold hoop. "Listen carefully. This will produce the illusion that you're broken." He slipped the hoop through one of the links of the necklace that held her Gray Jewel. "No one will be able to detect that you're still wearing the Gray unless you use it. If youdo need to use it, then don't hesitate. I'll figure out some way to deal with things here."
"The High Lord will know I'm not broken."
Daemon shook his head as he turned back to search for something else in the box. "You'd have to wear Jewels darker than the Black to be able to detect that spell."
Darker than theBlack? Sadi couldn't make a spell like that. Which meant...
Mother Night.
"This"—Daemon held up a tiny crystal vial before attaching it to the necklace—"will convince anyone who thinks to check that you're not only fertile but you're now pregnant. A Healer would be able to tell within twenty-four hours," he added, answering her unspoken question.
Lifting the necklace, Surreal studied the vial. "You asked Jaenelle to create an illusion that I was pregnant with your child?"
She saw his face tighten.
Yes, he had asked Jaenelle. And it had hurt him to ask.
Looking to change the subject, she pointed to the balls of clay. "What are those?"
"The raw spells to create shadows."
Shadows. Illusions that could be made to fool someone into believing the person in front of them was real.
"Marian and Daemonar," she said weakly, staring at the two empty nests of paper.
"Yes," he replied sharply.
She hissed at him. "You didn't trust me, awhore, to put on a good show, but you figuredLucivar would be convin—" Her voice trailed away. "He doesn't know, does he?"
"No," Daemon said quietly, "he doesn't know."
Her legs weakened so abruptly, she sat on the floor. "Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful."
"I know." Daemon hesitated. "I'm buying time, Surreal. I have got to buy enough time and still get everyone out of here. In order to make Dorothea and Hekatah believe Marian and Daemonar were dead, Lucivar had to believe it."
"Mother Night." Surreal rested her forehead on her knees. "What's worth paying a price like this?"
"My Queen needs the time in order to save Kaeleer."
"Oh, shit, Sadi." She looked up at him. "Tell me something. Even though you knew it was an illusion, how did you keep your stomach down afterward?"
He swallowed hard. "I didn't."
"You're mad," she muttered as she climbed to her feet.
"I serve," he said sharply.
Sometimes, for a male, it amounted to the same thing.
"All right," she said as she hooked her hair behind her pointed ears. "What do you need me to do?"
He hesitated, then started to hedge. "It's dangerous."
"Daemon," she said patiently, "what do you need?" When he still didn't answer, she took a guess. "You want me to wander around the camp whimpering and looking like a woman who's been raped out of her mind and is now terrified of what will happen to her if she miscarries the child that was produced from that rape. Right?"
"Yes," he said faintly.
"And then what?"
"Marian and Daemonar are at that shack. Slip out of camp tomorrow night, pick them up, and then go to the Keep. Don't stop, don't go anywhere else. Get to the Keep. You'll have to ride the Red Wind. The darker ones are unstable."
"Un—Never mind, I don't want to know about that." She thought everything through carefully. Yes, she could play this out. A woman that broken would spend a lot of time hiding, so letting people get glimpses of her throughout the day would be enough—and would hide the fact that she had disappeared.
Daemon reached for one of the balls of clay.
"What's that for?" Surreal asked.
"You would have fought for as long as you could," Daemon said, not looking at her. "You would look like you'd fought. After I create the illusion, you can carry this and—"
"No." Surreal shrugged out of her jacket and started unbuttoning her shirt. "You can't play all of this out with illusions. Not if you want to convince Dorothea and Hekatah long enough to buy the time Jaenelle needs."
His eyes turned hard yellow. "I'll give up a great deal for this, Surreal, but I'mnot going to break my vow of fidelity."
"I know," she replied quietly. "That's not what I meant."
"Then whatdid you mean?" Daemon snapped.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. "You have to make the bruises real."
4 / Kaeleer
Calling in the bowl, Ladvarian placed it carefully on the chamber floor and watched the Arachnian Queen delicately touch the little bubbles now filled with blood and memories.
*Is good,* the spider said with approval. *Good memories. Strong memories. As strong as kindred.*
Ladvarian looked at the bowl that sat in front of the huge tangled web. There were still a lot of the kindred's gifts left in the bowl. It wasn't a fast thing the Weaver was doing.
*You must rest,* the spider said as she selected a bubble from the humans' offerings and floated up to a thread in the web. *All kindred must rest. Must be strong when the time comes to anchor the dream to flesh.*
*Will you have enough time to add all the memories?* Ladvarian asked respectfully.
The Weaver of Dreams didn't reply for a long time. Then, *Enough. Just enough.*
