Kevil bowed his thanks to the Chained Antonov, and headed for home. He had been longer in the interview than he'd thought - it was mid-afternoon, and the heat staggered him as he stepped out of the shaded walkway and into the dusty street. He untied a scarf from his waist and wrapped it around his head and face before continuing his walk.

He slowed his steps as he approached the central marketplace. Even the brutal heat would barely have thinned the throngs there, and he always enjoyed watching the foreign merchants, perusing the outlandish merchandise, and flirting with the exotic women.

As he entered the square, he heard a voice calling his name and turned. Brilliant red and blue stripes assailed his senses, and he grinned. Mazharif had returned from beyond the desert! He ducked under the edge of the shade pavilion and greeted his friend with a hug. "How long have you been back?"

The merchant affected to ponder, twirling his mustache. "The heat confuses the mind... Three, four days, perhaps?"

"And you have not come by to visit? My eldest sister is yet pining!"

They laughed. Mazharif's suit to Kevil's sister Tinara was years old; more thorn than bloom, since Mazharif's circle lived in Alanis' sister-city in the mountains to the south.

"Truly," Kevil asked as Mazharif pressed a cup of wine into his hands, "how was the crossing?"

Mazharif looked serious abruptly. "The nomad raiders are growing ever more bold, Journeyman. Usually, it is only necessary to show a strong guard on the caravans to keep them at bay, yes? If they attack, you stand fast, draw a little blood, allow them perhaps to capture a water barrel... Tribute to the desert gods, yes? But this trip... Thrice we were attacked, and they did not flee with first blood as usual. Six guards I have lost to the raider's knives, dead and wounded, though the Lady's healers tell me the four wounded will recover by the first rains. And T'arvent tells me two of his were taken alive, for the slavers." His usual jovial face scowled. "I fear they are planning something."

Kevil frowned. "Lady bright... You will double your guard on your next trip, I hope."

Mazharif nodded. "If I go at all." He grinned. Every trip, Mazharif swore, would be the last one. "Come, Journeyman, don't glare so! We are safe in glorious Alanis now, yes? Drink your wine, and invite me to dine with you soon so I may beg your sister once more to run away with me!"

Kevil entered through the kitchen door and unwrapped his head. He picked up the water-dipper and drank thirstily.

"Kevil!" scolded his circle-mother Dehlia. "You're spilling everywhere!"

"I but spill an offering to the goddess who keeps your beauty fresh!" he teased, dodging her brandished spoon to kiss her cheek.

"Rogue," she accused him, laughing. "Darin is waiting in your room."

"Already!?" Kevil dashed down the hall and burst into his small room. "Darin!" Darin turned from his contemplation of Kevil's desk and threw himself into Kevil's ready embrace, laughing. "What are you doing here?" Kevil asked.

Darin laughed again. "The testing concluded this morning, Kevil! Where have you been?"

Kevil flopped into his chair. "At the Chained Antonov's, of course."

"Of course," Darin said, sitting on Kevil's bed. "Did you remember to interview the Chained while you were there, or did you spend the entire morning mooning after Zoya?"

Kevil pulled a sheaf of papers from his pouch. "I did take a few notes," he answered, mock-indignant. He then turned a sheepish grin on his friend. "But she very nearly smiled for me today!"

Darin laughed easily. "A favor beyond hoping!"

Kevil grinned. "She shall grace our circle yet!"

"I shall leave the wooing to you, Kevil; I have already heard more than enough of her scolding."

Kevil laughed, then continued more soberly, "I saw Master Trader Mazharif in the market on my way home. He says the raiders are planning something."

"Is he certain? I've heard nothing."

Kevil shook his head. "Only that they are bolder than in previous years."

"It was a dry winter - their wells must be low. Or perhaps it is only that Mazharif has grown prosperous enough to exaggerate." He grinned. "Or perhaps he is afraid they will steal away your sister before he can."

A small, shy voice interrupted their laughter. "Kevil?"

Kevil turned to the door and smiled warmly. "Aylin, love, come in." He kissed his younger sister's cheek as she drew near him. "How goes it with you today?"

She blushed prettily, her green eyes shining like jewels. "I am better," she said softly. "The doctor hopes I may be strong enough to attend your concert at the midsummer festival!"

"Do not overdo it," he said, worrying.

"But I must hear your song, Kevil!"

"You will," he promised. "For you, love, I will grant my first performance as Master Bard!" He winked at her, hoping to tease a little laughter from his favorite sister. Her smile widened, but she glanced at Darin and flushed shyly again.

Kevil put his arm around Aylin's thin shoulders and turned her to face Darin. "Have you no greeting for Darin, love?"

Darin bowed to her - quite elegantly, considering he sat still on the edge Kevil's bed. "My lady," he said solemnly. "Your presence is as rain upon the dust of my eyes."

Aylin blushed harder, but returned the bow. "I- I should rest," she said to Kevil, backing toward the door.

"Ah, I see!" Kevil laughed, watching his sister escape. "It is not the fever that reddens her cheek, but the blush of new love!" He eyed Darin mischievously.

Darin grinned. "She's sweet. How does she fare, in truth?"

Kevil sighed. "Desert fever is nothing to trifle with. We must thank the Lady that she even survived. And this heat... I fear she won't really begin to recover until the rains come."

Darin shook his head in sympathy. "She's lucky to have such a devoted brother, then. It's too bad your studies keep you from home so much."

Kevil grinned. "Only until midsummer!" he proclaimed. "Once my masterwork is accepted, I will no longer have to sneak into the hills to practice and compose." He turned a sly gaze on his friend. "Now, Darin - tell me, how went the testing?"

The hall was stifling, even an hour after sunset. Packed with people, lit with lamps, the heat of the day refused to bleed from the ground. Kevil barely noticed; performance fever hotter than the air. The lute was as much a part of him as his voice. He barely noticed his fingers on the strings, only heard in his mind the notes he wished to hear, and then heard them echoed in the air around him. He laid note over note, the soft texture of his voice complimented, he knew, by the sharp plucking of the strings.

When the last note had poured from his throat and the last echo of lutesong had faded from the room's corners, he bowed three times: deeply, to the panel of Masters who sat in judgement of his work; still more profoundly to the Chained Antonov who was his patron and inspiration; and finally, a middling bow to the applauding audience. No longer lost in the music, he felt the sweat beading his brow, and picked out his family and Darin, sitting near the front.

Aylin, alas, had been left behind, her strength not yet recovered enough to withstand the crowds of the midsummer festival. He had promised her once again that his first performance as a Master Bard would be for her and her alone. When that had failed to cheer her, he had sighed and kissed her pouting face. "Aylin, love, we can only imagine how hard it is for you - but you need your strength. By first rain, you will be up and about again, I promise."

Scant comfort, he knew, when she had begun looking forward to this midsummer festival since the last rains, before the fever had struck her down. But the midsummer festival was three days of fasting, and three nights of sleepless revelry, and there was no way around it: Aylin was too weak yet to withstand its rigors.

The senior judge, the aging Master who had first taught Kevil to play the lute more than ten years ago, rose creakily to his feet, bringing Kevil's thoughts back to the present. "Kevil Talarin," he intoned into sudden silence, his voice still vibrant and powerful, "come forward."

Kevil took the prescribed six steps forward to stand directly before the panel. "I stand as called, Masters."

"In light of your accomplishments, your proven ability in performance and composition, we the Council of Bards do hereby confer upon you the title of Master Bard." The wizened face split in a grin. "Congratulations, Bard Talarin."

Kevil grinned in response even as he properly bowed his thanks. The audience burst into applause again, cheering wildly. Many were throwing flowers on the stage - no few of them rosebuds. Kevil caught a cactus flower as it fell and pinned it to his collar before making his final bow and stepping down into his family's embrace.

The hour was late, and celebratory wine had made Kevil none too steady on his feet. Still, the bow he swept Vasiliy Antonov was deep. "Chained," he said in a voice that was barely steady. "My deepest gratitude belongs to you."

Vasiliy squeezed his shoulder, smiling slightly. "The talent was yours," he answered mildly. "I merely provided an opportunity for you to hone it."

Kevil turned to the tall apprentice by Vasiliy's side. "Will you not smile upon me now, my goddess?"

To Kevil's astonishment, the austere face in fact curved into a smile as she leaned forward to kiss his cheeks in congratulations. "I liked your song, Kevil," she said softly.

Vasiliy laughed. "A year's effort, resulting in a masterwork to be proud of, and you only 'liked' it, Zoya? No ear for music?"

Zoya's face was once again as smooth and cool as porcelain. "Not Kevil's music, at any rate, Master," she allowed, though her eyes twinkled.

Vasiliy chuckled. "Well, I enjoyed it, Kevil. Will you come and play for a smaller group later, to help us sing in the dawn?"

Kevil shook his head regretfully. "I promised my sister that my first performance would be hers. I should be happy to play for you another time, Chained."

Vasiliy nodded. "Good man. Stand by your word. We'll look for you to visit tomorrow, I hope?"

"Of course, sir." Kevil bowed, taking his leave of them, and began the stroll through the celebrating city toward his home, pausing often to accept the congratulations and compliments of acquaintances who had witnessed his masterwork and investiture.

He was only a few blocks from home when he saw three dark figures striding toward him in the darkness. Warily, he hesitated, then saw his father's green eyes glint in the light of a streetlamp. He hurried forward - his father, mother, and circle-mother reached out their hands to him as he approached, their faces grave.

"What?" he asked, dread suddenly dawning.

"Raiders," his mother said as she took his hands in hers. "Aylin, Bright Lady-" her voice broke as tears welled in her eyes. Kevil looked from her to his father, and then to Dehlia, a claw of ice clenching around his heart.

It was Dehlia who shook her head slightly. "Taken," she said. "We had gone to tell her, and..."

Kevil was frozen for one instant. His sister's face loomed before him, blushing with shyness, the red startling against cheeks pale yet from the fever... He wrenched his hands from his mother's, spun on his heel, and raced back into town.

He didn't remember finding Darin or explaining. That Darin would help him was never in question. He didn't remember Darin leading him through the back streets and alleys across town to the Chained Antonov's home. He was halfway up the wall before he came to himself. Blinking back tears of rage and frustration, he swung silently over the ledge and into Zoya's room. "Zoya?"

She looked up from the book she was poring over, irritable at the interruption. "Kevil, by the gods, can you not for one night torment-"

"Zoya." His voice was insistent, and she halted in her tirade. "My sister, Zoya. The raiders took her. I... I need your help."

She paused perhaps for one heartbeat, the irritation in her face melting as fast as it had arisen. Her eyes flickered out the window, to where the city celebrated, and then she stood with a sharp nod. "All right." She picked up a silver dagger from the desk and tucked it into her belt.

She went to the window and looked out. Darin stood below, beckoning. She climbed out, hung by her fingertips, and dropped into Darin's arms. By the time he'd set her on her feet, Kevil was on the ground beside them.

"Come on," he whispered, leading them back toward his home at a run.

Only Darin could have tracked the raiders in the darkness of the desert night. Kevil remembered none of it, only the heavy sweat of exertion turning clammy against his face in the cold night air. It was only an hour before dawn by the time Darin motioned Kevil and Zoya to stillness and pointed at a dune ahead. "Over that hill," he whispered. Kevil nodded and the three of them crept slowly to the top of the dune.

It was a small party, no more than ten. From the looks of their camp, they'd come to Alranis as mere thieves, not slavers - ready to take advantage of the midsummer festival's high attendance to steal horses and valuables. That they had found Aylin Talarin at home, too weak from her illness to attend the festival - or to resist their attack - had been a stroke of luck.

The stolen horses were closest to the hill, blocking Kevil's view. There was a small fire, and he could smell some sort of meat cooking. He shifted slightly, looking for any sign of-

The horses shifted, and he heard Zoya's swift intake of breath before he understood what he was seeing. "Aylin," he whispered hoarsely. She was naked, hanging limply from one of the horses, tied to the saddle by her hands. Bruises and welts covered her body, and blood trickled down her thighs. "No, Aylin," he whispered again, oblivious to Darin and Zoya's restraining hands on his arms.

One of the raiders stood and walked toward the horses, hands busy at his belt. A fire lit in Kevil's brain, and he jumped to his feet and ran down the dune, screaming, "NO!!!!"

He was dimly aware of Darin cursing as he ran. Magefire flowed past him to commit havoc among the raiders still struggling to their feet. A whiff of horse-scent, and the surprise in the raider's eyes changing to contempt as he drew a long knife from his belt.

Kevil dodged the knife and grabbed the man's face. He twisted, breaking his neck and dropping him to the cooling sand. The fury in him did not abate, and he sped toward the remaining raiders. He took a sword away from the first to meet him and left it buried in his chest. The hard-faced woman who replaced him was more skilled, and she managed to wound him before he snapped her spine. The raiders closed around him, but then Darin and Zoya were there...

Darin carefully cut Aylin's bindings, and she collapsed into Kevil's arms. Mercifully, she remained unconscious as he climbed onto one of the horses and settled her in front of him, wrapping a blanket around her abused body. He looked uncertainly at Darin and Zoya.

"Go," Zoya told him. "She'll need healers long before we will. We'll gather what's here and follow as soon as we can."

Kevil nodded, and with a last look at Darin, turned the horse toward Alanis.

He'd gone only a couple of miles when Aylin stirred. Her eyes flew open, and she screamed, flailing. Startled, he let her fall to the sand and watched as she scrabbled away from him, panting with fear.

"Aylin! Aylin, it's me, Kevil!"

She turned, the panic in her eyes not fully abating even when she recognized him. "Aylin, love... It's over, you're safe. It's just me, love." He spoke slowly.

"K- Kevil?" She seemed uncertain.

"Yes, Aylin. I just want to take you home. Okay?" Slowly, he dismounted and walked toward her. "Come on, Ay..." He reached out a hand, and cursed silently as she gasped and backed away.

In the silvery light of the rising sun, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glazed. Kevil's hands shook, and he put them behind his back. No, not the fever again, Lady, don't let it be... "Aylin, please, please, come home."

"Don't... Don't touch me," she gasped, edging away from him again.

"All right, Aylin," he said soothingly. "Just please, come home, all right?"

Slowly, watching him with a wariness that made his heart break, she began to edge toward Alanis.

"Take the horse, Aylin," he urged quietly. "I won't-"

"NO!" she shouted hoarsely. "Stay away!" She looked around wildly, taking another step.

"Aylin-"

He could almost see the fever draining the life from her eyes. "Stay..." She was panting.

"There's water on the horse, Aylin, if you'll take it..."

"Water..." She stared at him blindly, not knowing him. "I'll be strong when the rains come," she told him defiantly. "When the rains..." She stumbled away from him, toward Alanis.

"Aylin!" The image of her blurred as tears filled his eyes.

He followed her carefully, from a watchful distance. She thought he was one of the raiders, though occasionally she would seem to know him. But she refused to let him come near, refused to take the horse, refused water. She insisted that the rain would fall at any minute, that it would wash away her weakness, wash away the pain, wash away... him.

As the sun rose, its heat beginning to bake the sand, her steps began to waver, her raving weakened. Kevil longed to rush forward and take her in his arms, to carry her to safety and the cool fountains in the Lady's temple where surely the healers would help her. But every time he approached, she took another stumbling step away.

Just as he thought his heart would break, he heard the jingle of saddle bells, and turned to see Darin and Zoya approaching from behind with the stolen horses and plunder. They stopped when they saw him. Darin's mouth hung open for a moment, then they exchanged a glance and pushed forward.

Aylin summoned the strength to run a few steps before she collapsed to the ground, moaning. "When the rain comes," she whimpered softly. "The rain..." Kevil tightened his hands into fists and forced himself to stay put as Darin and Zoya came alongside him.

"What's happened?" Darin asked. Kevil shook his head, unable to speak.

Zoya's face was white and smooth. "Fever relapse," she said softly. "She's hallucinating, I think."

"Bright Lady," Darin whispered, horrified. "What... What do we do?"

Kevil shook his head again, and dared to take a few steps toward his sister. She crawled away from him on hands and knees, sobbing for rain.

It was in a similar tableau, half an hour and a miserable hundred paces later that they were found by the search party: Kevil's parents, a dozen of Alanis' guards, two of the Lady's temple, and Vasiliy Antonov.

The healer leaned back in the chair, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Kevil waited by the window, his heart in this throat. Eventually, she looked up at him, and her face was grave. "She has blocked me out," she said softly.

Kevil schooled his voice to match her pitch, mindful of his parents sleeping in the next room, not wanting to wake them from the Lady's healing sleep to despair. "Is there no way?"

The healer shrugged. "I have healed the wounds of her body, but there is little I can do against the fever, and her mind... If she were stronger, I could force my way in. But as she is... She would not survive the pressure I would have to exert upon her."

A moan escaped from deep in his throat. "There is no hope at all?"

The healer stood and approached him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "There is always hope, Bard. Pray to the Lady." She glanced back at Aylin over her shoulder. "She dreams of... of rain. It is a barrier of water that stops my efforts. If she survives to the winter rains, perhaps... Perhaps then she can be healed."

Kevil closed his eyes and nodded. "Thank you. We will pray." He showed the healer to the door, and went back to Aylin's side. He sat, despondent. Darin and Zoya both were shut from him as they suffered their punishments for entering such a rash endeavor without their Masters' permission. The joy he had felt at being declared Master was gone, turned to dust in his mouth in the instant he had learned of Aylin's plight.

She had been so excited for him, had so loved his music... Slowly, he picked up his lute and began to play. He played a gentle, rippling melody that was an echo of falling rain.

He thought, perhaps, the pain in her face eased a little. Softly, aching in his heart, praying to the Lady for hope and an early winter, Kevil began to sing.