Alaire sighed. "What do you remember, Kai?"
He thought this over briefly. "We left the tavern, two robbers jumped us, you took one and... and..."
"And what?" Alaire pers Kai's gaze grew very distant, and a strange, bleak, frightened expression crept over his face. "I don't remember. At least, I don't think I remember. Some- thing happened back there, something that... it must have been the magic."
Alaire looked at him narrowly. "Is that all?"
Kai looked ready to fling the cheese round at him.
"What else is there?"
His anger concealed what had to be fear. He does know, Alaire realized. He knows what happened, and he doesn't want to admit it. Who can blame him?
Would I want to relive that?
He decided to take control of the discussion. "The robbers, as you called them, were no such thing. They were assassins. And they were there to kill us, not take our purses. I know, because the same ones or some- one just like them tried to kill Naitachal, my Master, within the very walls of your palace. I got lucky with one; I killed him without so much as a scratch to myself. That round with Captain Lyam probably saved my life. I learned some things from your teacher that put me at an advantage. Remind me to thank him."
"He's the best," Kai said proudly. Then he frowned in accusation. "If you got so good at this, then why did you have to invoke magic?"
Alaire sighed "Because the assassin you were fight- ing killed you. Or at least, he wounded you badly enough that you almost died."
Kai smirked. "Sure he did."
"You don't remember?" Alaire asked, annoyed.
"You don't remember when the assassin ran you through? Or falling? You don't remember bleeding all over the snow, or me singing over you?"
"Well -- I -- " For a moment, the arrogance was gone. Then it returned. "Prove it to me!" he demanded belligerently.
Humph. "All right," Alaire said immediately. "I will.
Lift your shirt up."
Boldly, the Prince did, without hesitating, revealing a flat, white belly. "What are you looking at?" Kai asked with a smirk, then looked down.
When he saw the fresh scar, still red and a little puckered, he sucked his breath in. "Gods," he whis- pered. "How did that happen? That wasn't there yesterday."
"That was where the assassin ran you through," Alaire informed him grimly. "I came just in time to see him do it, too. He saw me and, I guess he assumed his job was done. He turned and fled. You were lying in the snow, with a gut wound, and bleeding enough to fill a lake."
The revelation, and the proof, clearly disturbed Kai.
"All that blood," he said, weakly. "I thought it was the robbers."
Alaire snorted. "No. It was yours. I knew you would die if I didn't do something about it, so I took my harp and wove a spell I saw my Master perform once. It brought you back." He spread his hands wide. "I had to," he said simply. "You're my friend, Kai."
Kai stared at him in disbelief. "You risked every- thing so I would live," he said slowly. "Nobody's ever done that before. I can't think of anyone who would, except maybe Captain Lyam." He looked away, wiping his face with a sleeve. When he looked back, a tear rolled down a cheek.
"I was dead?"