She was too late. She knelt on the fern, hands grasping her leather jerkin, shaking with unvoiced rage. Smoke and steam billowed from the thatched roo... of the cottage. Riders cried to each other as they remounted, horses slipping on the packed snow. The unconscious body of a fur-draped woman hung across the saddle of an Aroth raider. It was Penoa, Thespa’s mother. The riders circled the burning home, then galloped over the half-frozen stream and up, over the brown hills on which her father. Not even in a small port like Blane or New Holt," Hugo said."That's a first rate theory, nice work. It will be even better, if it is true," I said.The time stamp showed it to be midnight when he went to the small boat ramp and flashed the light several times. A few minutes later a small boat pulled up beside the wooden dock. From the boat five small figures worked their way ashore. "Illegals," I said. They were not all that happy to be in the states. They were cowering. "Looks like they might. More

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