Sing the Four Quarters by Tanya Huff

and founded the country that so originally bears his name, high court procedures have not changed. Our plan will use the court's own formula against it."
    "It still seems too simple."

    "All the best plans are."
    "Don't be facetious, Albek," she warned. "To use a bardic skill…"
    "A skill that bards make use of," the Cemandian corrected, spreading his hands and smiling reassuringly up at her.
    "Not a talent, not an innate ability, just a skill. A skill that in Shkoder is confined to bards and to healers but in my country is used by anyone with enough interest to learn." While that wasn't the entire truth, it was close enough to be believed.
    Olina frowned, brows sketching an ebony vee against pale skin. "And the bards can't detect it?"
    "Of course they can. If it occurs to them to look for it." Albek leaned back, stretching his feet toward the fire, and reaching again for his mug. "But it won't occur to them. Especially when everything they discover will match exactly with the information they'll already have from young Leksik."
    "Leksik? Who is Leksik?"
    "The fanatic I told you of. Quite frankly, he makes such an unbelievable trader, I'm amazed they haven't picked him up yet. When he's finished ranting and raving, you'll have King Theron's men camped on your doorstep in no time."
    "So you've already used this layered trance thing on him?"
    Albek shook his head, the rubies in his ears flashing like drops of captured fire. "Remember simplicity. Why risk tampering with his memories when lying serves as well?"
    In three long strides she crossed to bend over him, the fingers of one hand clamped tightly around his jaw. "And how well does lying serve?" she asked softly.
    In spite of her grip, his lips curved into a smile. "I have never," he said, staring up into ice-blue eyes, his chest beginning to rise and fall a little more quickly, his voice leaving no room for doubt, "lied to you."
    "Am I interrupting something?"
    Olina slowly straightened, fingertips caressing the marks left on Albek's face as her hand fell away. Twitching her embroidered velvet vest back over her hips, she turned to face the door. "Pjerin," she said, exhibiting no surprise at his sudden arrival, "do come in. I thought you were out playing woodsman."
    "I was." Pjerin circled around his father's sister and went to stand by the window. The pale winter light shining through the tiny glass panes touched his eyes with frost. Weight forward on the balls of his feet, he crossed his arms arid glowered. "Bohdan told me Albek had returned."
    "With no intention to keep you from your work, Your Grace," Albek protested. Although he and Olina had been speaking Shkoden, he now switched to Cemandian. He always spoke Cemandian with the due. "I'm on my way home and as this is the western end of the pass…"
    "On your way home now ?" Pjerin interrupted. Fluent in both languages—although he spoke neither most of the time, preferring the Cemandian-derived mountain dialect of the region—he didn't care which the trader used as long as it soon included a variation on " Good-bye ." "You're cutting it fine. Other years, the pass has been snowed in by Fourth Quarter Festival."
    "But not this year. I've been keeping a very close eye on the weather, I assure you'll I leave first thing tomorrow, I should have the time I need." He traced a sign of the Circle over his heart. "All things being enclosed."
    "Festival's day after tomorrow." Pjerin paused, then ground out, "You're welcome' to stay until after."

    Such a gracious invitation . Albek thought, but all he said was. "No, thank you. I can't risk the weather."
    Grunting an agreement, Pjerin tried, unsuccessfully, not to appear relieved. "What about your packs?"
    "Yes, uh. well, I admit I was a little overly optimistic about the amount I could move this year." The trader dropped his eyes and appeared fascinated by the pattern woven into the thick nap of the carpet. "I was hoping you could continue to store them for me. The lighter I