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"I did."

They sat together in silence for a long while, the belkagen watching the snowfall while Amira watched nothing at all. She sat looking inward, going over every detail of the oracle's visions, looking for some flaw in the elf's reasoning. There was none. Her shoulders slumped and she sighed.

"Have you," she said, "have you… told Gyaidun?"

"Told him what has happened to Erun?"

Amira nodded.

"Not yet. You said it yourself. The hope of finding his son has been the one thing giving him life and purpose all these years. If we take that away…"

"Hope," said Amira, wishing she could find her own. "You think he has any left at this point?"

"Hope is for those who seize it," said a voice above them.

Lendri leaped off the lip of the gully and landed in the snow. Mingan followed. Elf and wolf looked at Amira and the belkagen, then joined them under the overhanging grass. Lendri sat down beside the belkagen while his wolf-brother sat with his head on his paws and watched Jalan. The wolf's ears twitched, and he let out a long whine.

"How long have you been there, pup?" asked the belkagen.

"Not long," Lendri answered, though his eyes were fixed on Amira. "I heard you discussing my rathla. I listened."

The belkagen scowled. "You listened to a private conversation of the belkagen. Very rude. Almost dishonorable."

Lendri shrugged, not seeming the least bit chagrined. "She is not belkagen, and I am hrayek. My honor is sullied already." He looked at both of them and steel entered his voice. "If you know something about Erun, something you are not telling Gyaidun…"

"How much did you hear?" asked the belkagen.

Lendri looked at Amira a long moment, then turned his gaze back to the belkagen and said, "Have you ever haggled with the merchants along the Golden Way?"

The belkagen scowled. "What does that have to do with-?"

"They are liars," said Lendri. "Unrepentant liars. I learned long ago that the best way to judge the honesty of someone is to ask them a question to which you already know the answer and see what they say. I have yet to meet a merchant who does not make a practice of lying."

The belkagen's eyes narrowed to slits, and his voice became soft as velvet over a knife. "You accuse me of lying, Lendri hrayek?"

Lendri shrugged. "I accuse the belkagen of nothing. But I'm not going to answer his question until he answers mine."

"Where is your resp-?"

"Please!" Amira cut them off and looked to Lendri. "Do we know what happened to Gyaidun's son?" She cast a quick look at the belkagen, who was scowling. "Yes," she continued, "gods help us, I think we do. But what you are really asking, I think, is, 'Have we found a way to help him?' And the answer to that, Lendri, is no. Damn it all, we haven't. I swear by my gods and my House that I'm telling you the truth."

"Your House is a house of merchants, is it not?"

"They are," she said. "Liars, the lot of them. I can't stand them either."

Lendri smiled, but his eyes were sad. "That, I understand. Family troubles seem to plague all peoples."

"Then you believe me?"

"I see no reason for you to lie. But why do you hide the truth from Gyaidun?"

"What good would it do him?"

"None," said Lendri. "But na kwast wahir athu kyene wekht unarihe-'better a cold truth than a warm lie.' I know my rathla. He would rather be hurt than ignorant."

"This hurt might be more than your rathla could bear," said the belkagen.

"That should be his decision. Not yours."

The belkagen sighed. "You must choose your own path, even if it means destroying your rathla, but I will tell you this: You have no truth to give your rathla. We know only that the Fist of Winter took Erun and twisted him into something vile and evil. That much Gyaidun already knows. His greatest hope-that his son is still alive-has met his greatest fear-the one who took him-and they are one. Your rathla is… confused now, Lendri. Hurting. Despair has gripped him. What we know, what Amira learned in Hro'nyewachu will only deepen that. Consider my words. I will argue this