her the injection, then said, "It will take effect in a few minutes, and once it does, I will also have to start treating you as an oathbreaker. However, I told the Alanna that there was more to this than appears on the surface, and he has agreed to contact Torrance for the interrogation reports, then watch a copy of the monitor tapes from here that I will send with his warriors. That will probably have no effect, but this is an unprecedented situation; it could make a difference." She hesitated, then went on in a low voice. "I break custom by saying this, but I don't think you dishonored. I pray the gods will grant you a swift death, then rebirth as a warrior-caste Sandeman to you can earn a place in their ranks." Then she turned away, leaving the room before Dana could frame a reply.

As the energine took effect and her strength returned, Dana clung to Arden's words. They meant there was still a trace of hope for her … if Clan-chief Killian agreed with the lady Arden.

But that trace of hope wasn't all good; it was easier to hold fear at bay if you had no alternative to what you were afraid of. That trace of hope, tiny as it was, let the fear start to grow again. She began practicing one of the pre-combat calming exercises she'd come across in her studies of Sandeman, pleased to find that even with her lack of experience it helped.

The next time she tried to stand, she felt almost normal. She had no idea how long it would take the Alanna warriors to get to her—she had no idea where she was, other than in a hospital—so she decided she had better get dressed.

Doing so replaced what fear her exercises had left with sheer frustration. To begin with, bandages made clothes that had fit comfortably before so snug they would have been hard to get into even if she'd had her hands free instead of in casts. As it was, the effort of just getting them on, not to mention closing the buttons and zippers she preferred to magseals, was more of a challenge than she appreciated right then.

Not too long after she managed to make herself presentable, four warriors wearing Alanna arms on their drab coveralls—and more heavily armed than usual for peacetime—entered her room. She bowed to them, acutely conscious of the scab forming on her cheek. They didn't return the courtesy, of course; instead, two of them secured her arms behind her back. They weren't especially gentle, but she was obscurely pleased that they also weren't as rough as she'd expected them to be with an oathbreaker.

And during the flight to the Alanna clanhome, she was both pleased and a little puzzled by the warriors' continuing lack of overt hostility. Even given the ingrained politeness of a Sandeman, she would have expected some jostling, or unpleasant comments.

The flight also gave her time, and energine gave her strength, to think back on the attack and Jason's dismissal of her. She still didn't want to believe that the man she'd chosen to devote her life to had set her up for such a painful, degrading death, even to give her the illusion of dying for the best reason a thakur-na could have. But she couldn't avoid the truth: from all the evidence she had, that was precisely what he had done. And then when that had failed, he had deliberately sentenced her to the death of an oathbreaker.

She shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position with her arms fastened behind her. She failed, and that discomfort combined with the wearing off of the painkiller to make her begin to resent her former thakur. Maybe she did deserve to die, she thought bitterly. Not for the dishonor he admitted she wasn't guilty of, but for her misjudgment of him—when it came down to first causes, that was why she was being flown to her death. While Jason would live, as wealthy, comfortable, and influential as ever…

Dana wasn't able to appreciate either the crisp autumn weather or the functional beauty of Alanna's clanhome when the plane landed and her guards, their weapons drawn, escorted her into