Tarri slid her arm through Sanriel's as they walked through the quiet streets. It had been another beautiful, wonderful day: He had called for her at first light, and they gone with Vallel, Glossaria, and Sabrina to their favorite fishing spot. The boys and Sabrina fished while Tarri and Glossaria combed the area for savory herbs. After a sumptuous lunch of baked fish, Vallel's fish rolls, and a couple of rabbits, the others had gone back into town to see what could be made of the ancient chest and sword Vallel had found at the bottom of the river, while Tarri and Sanriel had gone for a walk in his beloved woods. (Tarri felt a quiver in her middle as she recalled the strength in his arms as he'd lifted her over a stream, and a rush of warmth flooded her when she thought about the kiss they'd shared beneath the branches of an enormous oak...) They'd met their friends again at the Meade Hall - and once again, Lord Jelarthna had carelessly covered the night's tab, despite the surprising windfall of Vallel's treasure chest, making them both rich beyond what they had ever imagined. Apparently the chest had been filled with money, and he was very insistent about sharing.

She wished they didn't have to part, but Sanriel had to get an early start the next day to make time for some tests Glossaria wanted to give him. She held some lingering worry over this dyslexia thing he might have, so she had resolved not to tempt him to linger when they reached the Bluestars'. A quick kiss good night, and she would see him the next day as soon as he was loosed from his tests and lessons.

She wouldn't stop him from taking a somewhat roundabout route back, though - it would add only a few minutes to the walk, and she cherished every moment they had together. Mindful of the numerous recent alleyway attacks, they kept to lit streets that were patrolled regularly. But Sanriel led her on a long route around some of the canals and islands as they talked over the day's events, their plans for the next days, still incredulous about Vallel's find, and wavering between wondering what to do with the money and trying to make Val take it all back. Tarri laid her head on Sanriel's shoulder for a moment, smiling at his satisfied sigh.

It happened so quickly that Tarri registered only a few brief images and a swirl of motion: a snarling mouth, the flash of a knife, the painful wrench as she was yanked away from Sanriel and into the darkness of an alley. Before she could blink, her arm was twisted painfully behind her and the cold gleam of a knife's edge held much too close to her face. She could not tear her eyes from the knife, too frightened to even think.

"Hold ye there, laddybuck, or she dies." The voice was rasping and soft, and Tarri caught a whiff of stale wine and onion. "I said hold, damn yer eyes!" The knife moved, and Tarri let out a surprised whimper as it suddenly pressed against her throat, cold and hungry.

Lurking just inside the mouth of the alley were two shadowy figures, their knives shining dully in the darkness. Sanriel was still standing in the street, fear warring with anger in his eyes. His hand rested on the hilt of his dagger, but he stood frozen in place.

"'S better," snarled Tarri's captor. "We'll be havin' yer coin, then, laddybuck, and mind ye move nice and slow, or ye'll not see 'er live out the hour."

He means me, Tarri thought dazedly. Blessed Mother, no. San, please, I don't want to die...

Carefully, slowly, Sanriel lifted his hand from his dagger. Cautiously, he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small purse. He tossed it toward the alley, and one of the shadows scurried forward to snatch it up. "It's all I have," Sanriel said, his voice tight. "Now let her loose."

The rasping voice chuckled. "Not like, laddybuck. She'll fetch us a pretty sum. Best ye fergit 'er." Tarri gasped in pain as she was yanked backward by her twisted arm, the knife still pressed against her throat. The two shadows scurried past, and Tarri's eyes locked on Sanriel's as she was pulled further and further down the alley. San, run, she thought wildly, bring help, please save me...

Tarri's captor yanked her sideways, though a dark doorway and into a dimly lit room. He tossed her roughly into a corner. "Give us nae trouble, missy," he said. "Ye're not worth so much we'll risk capture before killin' ya. You keep still, and keep yer mouth shut." He was a small, dark man with cold, even darker eyes. Tarri nodded, too frightened to speak.

One of the shadows resolved itself into another man, taller and brown of hair, eye, skin, and clothing. "Should've killed the boy if'n ye were gonna take the girl," he grumbled, his voice smooth and deep. "'E'll be goin' ta bring the dragons now."

Tarri's dark captor glared. "Ye don' trust me, ye can leave now, with no share." He squatted next to Tarri, ignoring her feeble attempt to squirm away from him. Dispassionately he began to search her, taking the silver clip from her hair, the thin necklace from her neck, the carefully tied kerchief of coins from the inside of her sleeve. "The dragons aren't goin' to come after us tonight. Devar's on duty, 'e'll put off the search 'til daybreak. By then we'll be long gone. Just gotta wait for the hero out there to give up looking and then we'll go... Reckon it'll be safe in a couple of hours."

He paused and snickered as he pulled the folded moneylender's note from her bodice, "Lookie here, a love letter from the Hero." Dark tossed it carelessly to the floor. The money, Tarri thought. Maybe... maybe... someone can be bribed, if... She couldn't finish the thought, but she summoned enough courage to snatch the folded letter back up and clutch it to her chest.

Brown strolled over to watch as Dark continued his methodical search for valuables. "Y'gonna let us give this'n a run?" he asked, his eyes lit with interest.

"Ye half-wit, I've told ye, they pay better for them's what's not been touched!"

Brown snorted. "D'ye see her hangin' on that fella's arm? She's no maid."

Dark snorted back. "Look't her face. She don't have a clue what yer talkin' about."

Tarri flushed, recalling the sneer on Lady Ferinsdottir's face as she had mocked her squeamishness a few weeks earlier. "When would you like to schedule learning about the dark and seamy side of life, Miss Mandeil?" She wished fervently she'd listened closer... But what more could they have done? They'd kept to lit streets, they weren't flaunting their wealth... What little talking of it they'd done had been in awed whispers - and these thugs seemed unaware of it, in any case. The image of Lady Nacheyla's battered, stitched-together face rose before her, and her calm voice, "...the other three captives were wearing chains and collars. Slavers seem likely..."

They're going to sell me to the slavers, Tarri thought, her heart suddenly thudding with panic. They've bought off one of the Purple Dragons, and I'll be sold and no one will know where to look for me... Oh gods, Sanriel, someone help me...

Dark and Brown were still arguing, and Tarri knew very well what the look in Brown's eye meant. She'd seen it often enough back home, though not with such implacable anger painting the lust. Dark seemed to be the leader of the three, and she found herself shrinking behind him, away from Brown's vicious leer.

"Ye want a whore, go buy a whore!" Dark rasped quietly.

Brown glared. "Why pay when this'n's right here? I still say she's no maid!"

The third rogue finally shifted, interrupting the argument. "Fetch the doc, shall I?" The voice was low and gravelly, but unmistakably female. Tarri gaped.

Dark glared at the woman, then Brown, and then Tarri, who tried to make herself even smaller as she huddled in her corner. Finally, he sighed irritably. "I'll go. You stay here and watch 'im. Don' let the girl cause no trouble, neither."

Brown opened a mouth to protest, and Dark held up his gleaming knife threateningly. "Ye want to try me? No? Then I'm done with yer lip." He stalked out of the room. The woman came out of the room's shadows and crouched silently between Tarri and Brown. For a long time, no one moved. Finally Brown shifted, and looked speculatively at the woman.

"Don't even think it," she said, before he could open his mouth. "Orders."

Brown glared at the woman, and then at Tarri, and stomped around the room.

After a while, he spun on the woman again. "Where's 'e got to? Doc's only up the road a bit!"

The woman looked up at him calmly. "Check it, then."

Brown pulled a wicked-looking knife from a sheath at his belt and stepped cautiously out the door.

Another long time passed. Tarri shifted uneasily, her eyes on the unmoving woman. More time. Tarri swallowed, then whispered nervously, "You wouldn't actually sell me, would you? If... if they're gone?"

The woman's head turned toward Tarri, revealing a gruesome smile. "Girl, for what you'll fetch, I'd sell my own sister." She eyed Tarri for a moment. "Mistake to take you like that, I'll say. Don't know what 'e was thinking... Well, and maybe I do, with that face of yours, and those eyes... But 'e should've killed your Hero, that's certain."

She glanced back at the door, then stood. "Get up."

"W-what?"

The woman took two steps and lifted Tarri by the collar of her dress. "You'll do what I say, when I say to do it, understand, girl?"

Up close, the woman's eyes were flat and lifeless, more frightening than the dark man's avaricious gleam or Brown's leer. She shoved Tarri toward the door and quickly stepped up behind her. Tarri felt the tip of a dagger press against her back. "One wrong move, and you're dead. Open the door."

Shaking, Tarri lifted the latch and pulled the door open. After a pause the woman put one hand on Tarri's shoulder. "Step out." The point of the dagger rested steadily against her back. The woman raised her voice slightly. "Don't do anything stupid, Hero. If I twitch, she's dead." The hand on Tarri's shoulder pushed slightly. "Walk."

Slowly, shivering with reaction and fear, Tarri began to walk. She obediently turned where she was pointed, searching the shadows with a desperation that was swiftly turning to despair. Sanriel, she thought madly, you said you'd protect me, don't leave me...

She caught a glitter of shine behind a pile of trash, and her heart pounded. The woman's hand tightened on her shoulder. "Just keep walking." It was only a puddle, anyway... just a puddle.

Tears rose in her eyes, and she almost missed recognizing the curve of Sanriel's bow behind a crate. Her heart nearly stopped - he hadn't left her! She stumbled with relief, and in that split second her decision was made.

She wrenched away from the woman, gasping more with surprise than pain as the knife scored her. She ran, turning away from Sanriel, hoping to distract her for him, praying... "Brat!" snarled the woman, reaching out to grab her... But Tarri reached the far side of the alley without being caught, and spun just in time to see Sanriel knock the woman to the ground with a flying tackle.

"Tarri, run!" he yelled, yanking the dagger from his belt. But she was rooted to the spot, a scream rising in her throat. She covered her mouth with both hands, choking back the scream and watching in horror as Sanriel and the woman rolled on the ground, her eyes straining in the dark to make sense of the struggle, her ears ringing with the effort of interpreting the grunts and hisses and gasps.

Finally, after an eternity of heartbeats, the woman cried out in pain and then laid still. Sanriel rose to his knees, staring at the woman for a long moment. He looked at his dagger with apparent confusion, then dropped it with a loud clatter that made Tarri wince. He looked blankly at her for a moment before rising swiftly to his feet and running to her. "T-Tarri," he gasped. "Why didn't you run? Are you okay?"

She stared up at him, dazed. He glanced over his shoulder at the woman, and suddenly started shaking like a leaf in a storm. "Oh, gods... Are you all right, Tarri?" He put a hand on her shoulder. "Tarri?"

Tarri looked at him with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Just... just a few cuts..." His voice became weaker. "I'll be..." His eyes closed. "Oh gods, Tarri, I killed..." He choked and pushed past her, then fell to his knees and violently threw up in the trash.

Tarri sank to her knees beside him, hesitantly resting her hand on his shoulder. His eyes were still closed. "I killed her," he whispered. "I-"

"Shhh..." Tarri pulled him into her arms. "I know. You did... you did what you had to do, San. It's all right..."

He rested his head against her shoulder and continued to shake, letting her hold him, stroke his hair, whisper soothingly... Sanriel continued to shake and shiver. He started to pull her closer, and she hissed as his touch suddenly lit the wound on her back on fire. He sat up and looked at her, concern beginning to draw him out of shock. "What?"

He looked down at the blood on his hand, then back up at her in sudden panic. "Tarri?" He pulled her around almost roughly. Tarri felt his hands against her flesh, and realized the woman's dagger had cut through her dress. Sanriel traced the length of the cut, from Tarri's shoulder down to the small of her back.

Tears filled her eyes, and she began to shake, unable to stave off her own reaction any longer. "How bad is it?" she whispered tearfully.

Sanriel paused, taking a deep breath. "It's... not too bad," he said, his voice quavering. "Just need to clean it out and bandage it..." He climbed to his feet and lifted her to hers. "We should get out of here anyway. Come on."

He was limping. Tarri slid an arm around him, and they began to help each other home.

Sanriel's hands shook as he finished trussing the small, dark man. He paused and took a deep breath, then pulled some refuse over the body to hide it from view. As he quietly settled back into his hiding place, he tried to quiet the wild thudding in his chest that seemed to make his whole body vibrate. It's just another hunt, just be patient... but if they hurt her... He gasped softly and shook his head, blinking away tears of fear and anger. He knew she'd have to be okay. The dark little man had said they were going to try to... to sell her. He choked at the thought and gradually managed to clear his mind while settling in to wait. Stray thoughts flitted through Sanriel's head, snippets of barely remembered conversation; Nacheyla describing her encounter with the slavers. Could this be them? But... they were after children! He shook the train of thought loose, ashamed at wishing they had snatched some child instead. Taking a deep breath and trying to compose himself again, he sat in readiness.

The next one was a big man, broad and muscular, and he followed the path the first had taken. Sanriel watched him carefully, almost smiling as he realized he'd guessed correctly. The thug was wary and already armed, but San hoped the element of surprise would be enough. He turned just as the young man jumped out and swung his makeshift club, absorbing the blow on a meaty shoulder, and the counterattack scored a deep cut on the youth's chest. The following flurry left Sanriel with a nasty slash on his leg, but he finally struck a solid blow over the thug's head, shattering the club and leaving the large man reeling. Sanriel failed to dodge a wild swipe and took another slash on his arm before he landed two solid punches to his opponent's jaw, knocking him out.

Sanriel fell to his knees by the body, quickly using his remaining rope to tie the robber-turned-kidnapper. He dragged the body alongside the large thug's dark partner, stifling pained hissing as the effort and the waning effects of his adrenaline rush made his wounds hurt all the more. Choking back a small sob of fear and pain, he settled back into his hiding place and tried to shake the lingering soreness out of his hand. Awkwardly he used bits of rope and some of his own torn and dirty clothes as makeshift bandages.

Sanriel swayed, feeling faint for a few moments from the pain. But he steeled himself, picturing Tarri... standing up dripping wet and laughing from Gloss' dunking... crouched by the fire, drying out and cooking the fish and the rabbits he'd caught... her smile as he carried her across a creek, the beating of his heart as he held her so close... the oak, and their kiss... could that have been just earlier today? She had to be okay... she had to. He shook quietly for a few moments, not knowing what to do now... one left. Just one left, and no idea what to do. This wasn't just a hunt. He couldn't fool himself any longer with that. Tarri's life was at stake here, and so was his.

Long training in the hunt was still useful, and left him able to hold his position without voicing the sobs rising in his throat, knowing he could not afford to miss any opportunity. Still, he was wracked with indecision. Should he wait until the last kidnapper was asleep? Should he try to charge in and hope the surprise was enough? He was wounded and more than a little tired. All of his weapons were here, but could he use any of them in a real fight? Swirling confusion and uncertainty locked Sanriel in place, only slightly comforted by stroking the curve of his bow as he waited.

He heard the creaky door open, and his heart leapt as Tarri stepped outside, only his training keeping him from leaping up in joy. In the next moment his heart froze and seemed to sink right down to his feet and past. There was clearly another person behind her, the last of the three that had taken her. Sanriel automatically brought his breathing under control, taking long, quiet breaths. He couldn't believe that his heart's dull thudding didn't betray his presence, and he could barely hear the thug's warning over it: "Don't do anything stupid, hero. If I twitch, she's dead."

He froze up completely. Tarri's captor was a woman! And her eyes... he'd never felt or seen anything so cold as those eyes. He knew she had a weapon on Tarri and wouldn't hesitate to hurt her. He knew he had to stop her, but... how could he hurt a woman, even such a one as this? Shivering in indecision, he stilled his movements as Tarri and her kidnapper began to pass. Their backs were to him now, but still he paused, torn and indecisive, not even hearing whatever the cold woman said next to Tarri.

Sanriel almost gasped as Tarri stumbled, half-rising from his cover. When the woman's knife flashed, all doubt, all thought was banished and he tackled the kidnapper from behind, bearing her to the ground and crying out, "Tarri, run!" He pulled his long dagger from its sheath, almost shrinking back from the murderous intent in the cold woman's eyes. His lingering hesitation gave her time to recover from the tackle. But he knew all that mattered was saving Tarri. If he managed nothing else, he had to buy her time to run... all that mattered was that she get to safety. That thought flashed through his head in an instant as he struggled and rolled on the ground with the woman.

Their blades flashed in the dim light as they grappled, struggling for advantage, each inflicting small cuts and minor damage. Sanriel could almost feel the cold hand of death as she laid open his side in a powerful thrust that sent the tip of her knife clattering against the cobbles. Sanriel grunted and twisted, slamming his own weapon home in her chest as she pressed forward. Her cry of pain filled his ears as he watched her eyes go wide and then dim, the light of life fading like the last rays of sunset. He rose shakily to his knees and looked at his bloody dagger like a foreign thing, and past it to the corpse on the ground. Revulsion filled him, and he dropped his weapon as if it might bite him. Suddenly recalling the reason for the fight, he looked up to see Tarri standing a little distance away, her hands half-covering her face in fear and horror.

He jumped up and ran to her. "T-Tarri," he gasped. "Why didn't you run? Are you okay?" Following her glance to the dead body, he started to shiver violently. "Oh, gods... Are you all right, Tarri?" He laid a trembling hand on her shoulder. "Tarri?" Blinking blearily, the rushing in his ears was almost louder than her concerned question about him. Weakening rapidly, he answered, "Just... just a few cuts... I'll be..." A sudden flashback of the woman's eyes as she died overwhelmed him, the smell of fresh blood filling his nose. He could feel it, warm and gushing out over his hands again. "Oh, gods, Tarri, I killed..." Not even thinking as he choked on the bile rising in this throat, he moved past her and fell to his knees, emptying his stomach into the trash.

He clenched his hands into fists, feeling the moment again and again, locked in endless repetition... the moment he took a life. "I killed her," he whispered. "I-" He couldn't open his eyes for what seemed forever, trapped in the vision replaying itself in his mind.

Sanriel felt Tarri's arms close around him, and her touch, her voice as she reassured him, finally began to push the moment aside. "Shhh... I know. You did... you did what you had to do, San. It's all right..." She soothed him quietly, holding him while he shook and sobbed, as helpless as a babe. Finally regaining a small measure of strength, he started to hold her tighter, and she hissed in pain. "What?"

Panic filled Sanriel as he saw the blood on his hand and realized it was hers. He turned her quickly, tracing the long cut that had opened her dress and skin from shoulder to the small of her back. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he noted that the wound was shallow, not even realizing that his concern had pulled him partway out of his shock. Tarri then begin to shake, much as he had been doing. "How bad is it?" she whispered, her voice tremulous.

He looked up and saw the tears in her eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself for her sake. But his voice quivered as he answered, "It's... not too bad. Just need to clean it out and bandage it..." Wincing as he got unsteadily to his feet, he then helped Tarri stand as well, holding her tightly, but careful of the long cut on her back. "We should get out of here anyway. Come on." She slid an arm around him after noticing the limp, and the young couple helped each other with the struggle of walking.

The journey seemed an epic one. They struggled at times with their own shock and pain, whispering small murmurs of encouragement to each other, one always strong enough to keep the other from faltering. So the couple managed to keep moving by a shared effort of will, eventually reaching the door of the Bluestars' mansion. Sanriel heard Tarri sob with relief, and nearly gave voice to his own. She fumbled the door open, and the two helped each other into the foyer.

Ingaliese entered the entryway, sniffing at the lateness of the hour, then stopped short as she saw the wounded pair. As soon as Sanriel noticed her entrance he looked at her entreatingly. "Lady Ingaliese, please help Tarri, she's hurt..."

"San, no, you're more hurt than me!" she protested weakly.

The elf servant took on a long-suffering look and sighed. "Both of you get to the kitchen. Ready some clean water." Without waiting for any reply, she turned on her heel and walked calmly from the room.

Sanriel looked at Tarri, his surprise echoed in her statement. He tried to smile a little. "Come on, Tarri. We can make it. Right?"

She shivered, but nodded slowly. "We can do it. Just to the kitchen..." Slowly they hobbled and limped their way to the kitchen.

Ingaliese was already there, putting water in a cauldron over the kitchen's fire. She motioned impatiently for them to sit on a bench, and settled a bundle of bandages next to a bag on the counter. Gathering a few items, she moved to Tarri and began to efficiently peel her dress away from the long wound. Sanriel watched for a moment in surprise, then flushed bright red and turned to look away. He fidgeted and waited, giving voice to a soft groan as his myriad cuts began to sting and throb painfully.

"Master Tailorson." Sanriel started and winced as he looked around. As Ingaliese looked him over critically, he looked around for Tarri. Panic flooded him again as he realized she was gone. He started to stand, but Ingaliese's stern warning stopped him. "Miss Mandeil has gone to fetch fresh clothes for herself. Now take off yours, please."

Sanriel stared at her for a moment in surprise. "B-but..."

She sighed with apparent exasperation. "You are filthy, covered in cuts that are likely becoming infected as you dawdle, and you are beginning to drip blood on the floor. Let's not make more of a mess than we have to." Blushing once again, he began painfully peeling off his dirty, blood soaked clothes. He noticed in a mostly detached way that there was indeed a small puddle of blood forming under his left foot. Ingaliese distastefully set the tatters aside and made tsking sounds as she removed Sanriel's clumsily self-applied bandages.

Sanriel hissed in pain as she began to clean his cuts. He swayed in place and avoided crying out in pain at first, but as she continued it only grew worse. When Tarri returned to the kitchen, he managed to raise one hand in greeting before passing out.

The intense burning in his thigh woke him, and he gasped in pain. He was lying on a hard surface... the kitchen table? Tarri's concerned face looked down at him, and she paused in the act of fixing a bandage over a cut on his arm. "Shh... try to stay still, San. A couple of your cuts are really deep..." She blanched for a moment, but steeled herself and pressed a hand to his chest. "Just keep still... you'll be okay."

Sanriel raised a stiff arm and put his hand over Tarri's, nodding weakly. "I.. I'll try... You're really okay?" Her smile and nod were enough to let him forget his pain for a moment, until the tugging at his thigh renewed and he cried out again. He managed to remain still, however, and closed his eyes briefly against the pain. "I love you, Tarri... I..." He trailed off as Tarri pressed a finger to his lips.

"Shhh. I know. We can talk later. Right now we need to get your wounds treated. Just keep still." She looked concerned again as her gaze flicked over his assorted cuts and scrapes, but smiled for him. "I love you too, San."

Ingaliese's voice was as calm as ever. "Miss Mandeil, I'll need your help here." Tarri gave Sanriel a last brave smile and squeezed his hand, then moved out of his line of sight. He took a breath and tried to steel himself, but the pain that washed through him came too quickly and intensely to allow him to do more than grunt before passing out again.

When he awoke again sometime later, he was in a very soft bed, feeling strangely numb. He looked around blearily, struggling to pull an arm out from under the covers to weakly feel his forehead. He could tell already that he had a fever... the unmistakable lethargy and weakness of sickness filled him. Looking around the room, Sanriel smiled as he spotted Tarri asleep in a chair close to the bed. His smile widened slightly when he saw the book in her lap. The title was too much for his slightly blurred vision to make out, but his heart skipped a beat at the thought that she might have been reading to him as he slept. His lips moved in a silent wish that she would do so again when they were both awake. He loved to hear her beautiful voice, to watch her lips and eyes, and see the secret smile from knowing that he was as much watching her as listening to what she was reading. That pleasant thought on his mind, he drifted back to sleep, his free hand stretched out to Tarri.