CHAPTER 3

They talked and talked and talked, and every “maybe” or “possibly” or “probably” or “on the other hand”

set Sparhawk’s teeth on edge. It was all pure speculation, useless guessing that circled and circled and never got to the point. He sat slightly apart from them holding the lock of pale hair. The hair felt strangely alive, coiling round his fingers in a soft caress. It was his fault, of course. He should never have permitted Ehlana to come to Tamuli. It went further than that, though. Ehlana had been in danger all her life, and it had all been because of him - because of the fact that he was Anakha.

Xanetia had said that Anakha was invincible, but she was wrong. Anakha was as vulnerable as any married man. By marrying Ehlana, he had immediately put her at risk, a risk that would last for as long as she lived. He should never have married her. He loved her, of course, but was it an act of love to put her in danger? He silently cursed the weakness that had led him to even consider the ridiculous notion when she had first raised it. He was a soldier, and soldiers should never marry - particularly not scarred, battered old veterans with too many years and too many battles behind them and too many enemies still about. Was he some selfish old fool? Some disgusting, half-senile lecher eager to take advantage of a foolish young girl’s infatuation? Ehlana had extravagantly declared that she would die if he refused her, but he knew better than that. People die from a sword in the belly, or from old age, but they do not die from love. He should have laughed in her face and rejected her absurd command. Then he could have arranged a proper marriage for her, a marriage to some handsome young nobleman with good manners and a safe occupation. If he had, she would still be safely back in Cimmura instead of in the hands of madmen, degenerate sorcerers and alien Gods to whom her life meant nothing at all. And still they talked on and on and on. Why were they wasting all their breath? There wasn’t any choice in the matter.

Sparhawk would obey the instructions because Ehlana’s life depended on it. The others were certain to

argue with him about it, and the arguments would only irritate him. The best thing would probably be just to take the Bhelliom and Khalad and slip out of Matherion without giving them the chance to drive him mad with their meaningless babble. It was the touch of a springlike breeze on his cheek and a soft nuzzling on his hand that roused him from his gloomy reverie.

‘It was not mine intent to disturb thy thought, Sir Knight,’ the white deer apologized, ‘but my mistress would have words with thee.’

Sparhawk jerked his head round in astonishment. He no longer sat in the blue-draped room in Matherion, and the voices of the others had faded away to be replaced by the sound of the gentle lapping of waves upon a golden strand. His chair now sat on the marble floor of Aphrael’s temple on the small verdant island that rose gem-like from the sea. The breeze was soft under the rainbow-colored sky, and the ancient oaks around the alabaster temple rustled softly. ‘Thou hast forgotten me,’ the gentle white hind reproached him, her liquid eyes touched with sorrow.

‘Never,’ he replied. ‘I shall remember thee always, dear creature, for I do love thee, even as I did when first we met.’ The extravagant expression came to his lips unbidden. The white deer sighed happily and laid her snowy head in his lap. He stroked her arched white neck and looked around. The Child Goddess Aphrael, gowned in white and surrounded by a glowing nimbus, sat calmly on a branch of one of the nearby oaks. She lifted her many-chambered pipes and blew an almost mocking little trill.

‘What are you up to now, Aphrael?’ he called up to her, deliberately forcing away the flowery words that jumped to his lips.

‘I thought you might want to talk.’ she replied, lowering the pipes. ‘Did you want some more time for self-mortification? Would you like a whip so that you can flog yourself with it? Take as much time as you want, Father. This particular instant will last for as long as I want it to.’ She reached out with one grass-stained little foot, placed it on nothing at all and calmly walked down a non-existent stairway to the alabaster floor of her temple. She sank down on it, crossed her feet at the ankles and lifted her pipes again. ‘Will it disturb your sour musings if

I play?’

‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded. She shrugged. ‘You seem to have this obscure need for penance of some kind, and there’s no time for it. I wouldn’t be much of a Goddess if I couldn’t satisfy both needs at the same

time, now would I?’ She raised her pipes. ‘Do you have any favorites you’d like to hear?’

‘You’re actually serious, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’ She breathed another little trill into the pipes. He glared at her for a moment, and then he gave up.

‘Can we talk about this?’ he asked her.

‘You’ve come to your senses? Already? Amazing.’

He looked around at the island. ‘Where is this place?’ he asked curiously.

The Child Goddess shrugged. ‘Wherever I want it to be. I carry it with me every place I go. Were you serious about what you were just thinking, Sparhawk? Were you really going to snatch up Bhelliom, grab Khalad by the scruff of the neck, leap onto Faran’s back and try to ride off in three directions at the same time?’

‘All Vanion and the others are doing is talking, Aphrael, and the talk isn’t going anywhere.’

‘Did you speak with Bhelliom about this notion of yours?’

‘The decision is mine, Aphrael. Ehlana’s my wife.’

‘How brave you are, Sparhawk. You’re making a decision that involves the Bhelliom without even consulting it. Don’t be misled by its seeming politeness, Father. That’s just a reflection of its archaic speech. It won’t do something it knows is wrong, no matter how sorry you’re feeling for yourself, and if you grow too insistent, it might just decide to create a new sun - about six inches from your heart.’

‘I have the rings, Aphrael. I’m still the one giving the orders.’

She laughed at him. ‘Do you really think the rings mean anything, Sparhawk? They have no control over Bhelliom at all. That was just a subterfuge that concealed the fact that it has an awareness - and a will and purpose of its own. It can ignore the rings any time it wants to.’

‘Then why did it need me?’

‘Because you’re a necessity, Sparhawk - like wind or tide or rain. You’re as necessary as Klael is - or Bhelliom - or me, for that matter. Someday we’ll have to come back here and have a long talk about necessity, but we’re a little pressed for time right now.’

‘And was that little virtuoso performance of yours yesterday another necessity as well? Would the world have come to an end if you hadn’t held that public conversation with yourself?’

‘What I did yesterday was useful, Father, not necessary. I am who I am, and I can’t change that. When I’m going through one of these transitions, there are usually people around who know both of the little girls, and they start noticing the similarities. I always make it a point to have the girls meet each other in public. It puts off tiresome questions and lays unwanted suspicions to rest.’

‘You terrified Mmrr, you know.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll make it up to her. That’s always been a problem. Animals can see right through my disguises. They don’t look at us in the way that we look at each other.’

He sighed. ‘What am I going to do, Aphrael?’

‘I was hoping that a visit here would bring you back to your senses. A stopover in reality usually has that effect.’

He looked up at her private, rainbow-colored sky.

‘This is your notion of reality?’

‘Don’t you like my reality?’

‘It’s lovely,’ he told her, absently stroking the white deer’s neck, ‘but it’s a dream.’

‘Are you really sure about that, Sparhawk? Are you so certain that this isn’t reality and that other place isn’t the dream?’

‘Don’t do that. It makes my head hurt. What should I do?’

‘I’d say that your first step ought to be to have a long conversation with Bhelliom. All of your moping around and contemplating arbitrary decisions has it more than a little worried.’

‘All right. Then what?’

‘I haven’t gotten that far yet.’ She grinned at him. ‘I’m a-workin’ on it though, Dorlin’,’ she added.

‘They’re going to be all right, Kalten,’ Sparhawk said, gently laying his hand on his suffering friend’s shoulder. Kalten looked up, his eyes filled with hopeless misery.

‘Are you sure, Sparhawk?’

‘They will be if we can just keep our heads. Ehlana was in much more danger when I came back from Render, and we took care of that, didn’t we?’

‘I suppose you’re right.’ Kalten straightened up in his chair and jerked down his blue doublet. His face was bleak.

‘I think I’m going to find some people and hurt them,’ he declared.

‘Would you mind if I came along?’ ‘You can help if you like.’ Kalten rubbed at the side of his face. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘You know that if you follow those orders in Krager’s note, he’ll be able to keep you plodding from one end of Tamuli to the other for the next year or more, don’t you?’

‘Do I have any choice? They’re going to be watching me.’

‘Let them. Do you remember how we met Berit?’

‘He was a novice in the Chapterhouse in Cimmura,’ Sparhawk shrugged.

‘Not when I first saw him, he wasn’t. I was coming back from exile in Lamorkand, and I stopped at a roadside tavern outside of Cimmura. Berit was there with Kurik, and he was wearing your armor. I’ve known you since we were children, and even I couldn’t tell that he wasn’t you. If I couldn’t tell, Krager’s spies certainly won’t be able to. If somebody has to plod around Tamuli, let Berit do it. You and I have better things to do.’

Sparhawk was startled.

‘That’s the best idea I’ve heard yet.’ He looked around at the others. ‘Could I have your attention, please?’ he said.

They all looked sharply at him, their faces apprehensive.

‘It’s time to get to work,’ he told them. ‘Kalten here just reminded me that we’ve used Sir Berit as a decoy in the past. Berit and I are nearly the same size, and my armor fits him more or less - and with his visor down, nobody can really tell that he isn’t me. If we can prevail on him to masquerade as a broken-down old campaigner again, we might just be able to prepare a few surprises for Krager and his friends.’

‘You don’t even have to ask, Sparhawk,’ Berit said.

‘Get some details before you volunteer like that, Berit,’ Khalad told his friend in a pained voice.

‘Your father used to say almost exactly the same thing,’ Berit recalled.

‘Why didn’t you listen to him?’

‘It’s an interesting plan, Prince Sparhawk,’ Oscagne said a bit dubiously, ‘but isn’t it extremely dangerous?’

‘I’m not afraid, your Excellency,’ Berit protested.

‘I wasn’t talking about your danger, young sir. I’m talking about the danger to Queen Ehlana. The moment someone penetrates your disguise - well …’ Oscagne spread his hands.

‘Then we’ll just have to make sure that his disguise is foolproof,’

Sephrenia said.

‘He can’t keep his visor down forever, Sephrenia,’ Sarabian objected.

‘I don’t think he’ll have to,’ Sephrenia replied. She looked speculatively at Xanetia.

‘Do we trust each other enough to cooperate, Anarae?’ she asked. ‘I’m talking about something a little deeper than we’ve gone so far.’

‘I will listen most attentively to thy proposal, my sister.’

‘Delphaeic magic is directed primarily inward, isn’t it?’

Xanetia nodded.

‘That’s probably why no one can hear or feel it. Styric magic is just the reverse. We alter things around us, so our magic reaches out. Neither form will work by itself in this particular situation, but if we were to combine them …’ She left it hanging in the air between them.

‘Interesting notion,’ Aphrael mused.

‘I’m not sure I follow,’ Vanion said.

‘The Anarae and I are going to have to experiment a bit,’ Sephrenia told him, ‘but if what I’ve got in mind works, we’ll be able to make Berit look so much like Sparhawk that they’ll be able to use each other for shaving mirrors.’

‘As long as each of us knows exactly what the other’s doing, it’s not too difficult, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia assured him later when he and Berit joined her, Vanion and the Anarae in the room she shared with Vanion.

‘Will it really work?’ he asked her dubiously.

‘They haven’t actually tried it yet, Sparhawk,’ Vanion told him,

‘So we’re not entirely positive. That doesn’t sound too promising. This isn’t much of a face, but Is the only one I’ve got.’

‘There will be no danger to thee or to young Sir Berit, Anakha,’ Xanetia said. ‘in times past it hath oft been necessary for my people to leave our valley and to go abroad amongst others. This hath been our means of disguising our true identity.’

‘It works sort of like this, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia explained. ‘Xanetia casts a Delphaeic spell that would normally imprint your features on her own face, but just as she releases her spell, I release a Styric one that deflects the spell to Berit instead.’

‘Won’t every Styric in Matherion feel it when you release your spell?’ Sparhawk asked.

‘That’s the beauty of it, Sparhawk,’ Aphrael told him. “the spell itself originates with Xanetia, and others can’t feel or hear a Delphaeic spell. Cyrgon himself could be in the next room and he wouldn’t hear a thing.’

‘You’re sure it’s going to work?’

‘There’s one way to find out.’ Sparhawk, of course, did not feel a thing. He was only the model, after all.

It was a bit disconcerting to watch Berit’s appearance gradually change, however. When the combined spell had been completed, Sparhawk carefully inspected his young friend. ‘Do I really look like that from the side?’ he asked Vanion, feeling a bit deflated.

‘I can’t tell the two of you apart.’

‘That nose is really crooked, isn’t it?’

‘We thought you knew.’

‘I’ve never looked at myself from the side this way before.’ Sparhawk looked critically at Berit’s eyes.

‘You should probably try to squint just a little,’ he suggested. ‘My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.

That’s one of the things you have to look forward to as you get older.’

‘I’ll try to remember that.’ Even Berit’s voice was different.

‘Do I really sound like that?’ Sparhawk was crestfallen.

Vanion nodded.

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Seeing and hearing yourself as others do definitely lowers your opinion of yourself,’ he admitted. He looked at Berit again. ‘I didn’t feel anything, did you?’

Berit nodded, swallowing hard.

‘What was it like?’

‘I’d really rather not talk about it.’ Berit gently explored his new face with cringing fingertips, wincing as he did.

‘I still can’t tell them apart,’ Kalten marveled, staring first at Berit and then at Sparhawk.

‘That was sort of the idea,’ Sparhawk told him.

‘Which one are you?’

“Try to be serious, Kalten.’

‘Now that we know how it’s done, we can make some other changes as well,’ Sephrenia told them.

‘We’ll give you all different faces so that you’ll be able to move around freely - and we’ll put men wearing your faces here in the palace. I think we can all expect to be watched, even after the Harvest Festival, and this should nullify that particular problem.’

‘We can make more detailed plans later,’ Vanion said. ‘Let’s get Berit and Khalad on their way first.

What’s the customary route when someone wants to go overland from here to Beresa?’

He unrolled a map and spread it out on the table.

‘Most travelers go by sea,’ Oscagne replied, ‘but those who don’t usually cross the peninsula to Micae and then take a ship across the gulf to the mainland.’

‘There don’t seem to be any roads over there,’ Vanion frowned, looking at the map.

‘It’s a relatively uninhabited region, Lord Vanion,’ Oscagne shrugged. ‘salt marshes and the like. What few tracks there are wouldn’t show up on the map.’

‘Do the best you can,’ Vanion told the two young men. ‘Once you get past the Tamul Mountains, you’ll hit that road that skirts the western side of the jungle.’

‘I’d make a special point of staying out of those mountains Berit,’ Ulath advised. ‘There are Trolls there now.’

Berit nodded.

‘You’d better have a talk with Faran, Sparhawk,’ Khalad suggested. ‘I don’t think he’ll be fooled just because Berit’s wearing your face and Berit’s going to have to ride him if this is going to be convincing.’

‘I’d forgotten that,’ Sparhawk admitted.

‘I thought you might have.’

‘All right then,’ Vanion continued his instructions to the two young men. “follow that road down to hydros, then take the road around the southern tip of Arjuna to Beresa. And they’ll probably be expecting you to go that way.’

‘That’s going to take quite a while, Lord Vanion,’ Khalad said.

‘I know. Evidently Krager and his friends want it to. If they were in a hurry, they’d have instructed Sparhawk to go by sea.”

‘Give Berit your wife’s ring, Sparhawk,’ Flute instructed.

‘What?’

‘Zalasta can sense the ring, and if he can, Cyrgon can, too and Klael will definitely feel it. If you don’t give Berit the ring, changing his face was just a waste of time.’

‘You’re putting Berit and Khalad in a great deal of danger,’ Sephrenia said critically.

‘That’s what we get paid for, little mother,’ Khalad shrugged.

‘I’ll watch over them,’ Aphrael assured her sister. She looked critically at Berit.

‘Call me,’ she told him.

‘Ma’am?’

‘Use the spell, Berit,’ she explained with exaggerated patience.

‘I want to be sure you’re doing it right.’

‘Oh.’ Berit carefully enunciated the spell of summoning, his hands moving in the intricate accompanying gestures.

‘You mispronounced “Knjernsticon”, she corrected him. Sephrenia was trying without much success to suppress a laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ Talen asked her. ‘Sir Berit’s pronunciations raised some questions about his meaning,’

Stragen explained.

‘What did he say?’ Talen asked curiously.

‘Just never mind what he said,’ Flute told him primly. ‘We’re not here to repeat off-color jokes about the differences between boys and girls. Practice on that one, Berit. Now try the secret summoning. ’

‘What’s that?’ Itagne murmured to Vanion.

‘It’s used to pass messages, your Excellency,’ Vanion replied. ‘it summons the awareness of the Child Goddess, but not her presence. We can give her a message to carry to someone else by using that spell.’

‘Isn’t that just a little demeaning for the Child Goddess? Do you really make her run errands and carry messages that way?’

‘I’m not offended, Itagne.’ Aphrael smiled. ‘After all, we live only to serve those we love, don’t we?’

Berit’s pronunciation of the second spell raised no objections.

‘You’ll probably want to use that one most of the time anyway, Berit,’ Vanion instructed. ‘Krager warned Sparhawk about using magic, so don’t be too obvious about things. If you get any further instructions along the road, make some show of following them, but pass the word on to Aphrael.’

‘There’s no real point in decking him out in Sparhawk’s armor now, is there, Lord Vanion?’ Khalad asked.

‘Good point,’ Vanion agreed. ‘A mailshirt should do, Berit. We want them to see your face now.’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘Now you’d better get some sleep,’ Vanion continued. ‘You’ll be starting early tomorrow morning.’

‘Not too early, though,’ Caalador amended. ‘We purely wouldn’t want th’ spies t’ oversleep therselfs an’

miss seein’ y’ leave. Gittin’ a new face don’t mean shucks iffn y’ don’t git no chance t’ show it off, now does it?’

It was chill and damp in the courtyard the following morning, and a thin autumn mist lay over the gleaming city. Sparhawk led Faran out of the stables.

‘Just be careful,’ he cautioned the two young men in mailshirts and travelers’ cloaks.

‘You’ve said that already, my Lord,’ Khalad reminded him.

‘Berit and I aren’t deaf, you know.’

‘You’d better forget that name, Khalad,’ Sparhawk said critically. ‘Start thinking of our young friend here as me. A slip of the tongue in the wrong place could give this all away.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

‘Do you need money?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

‘You’re as bad as your father was.’ Sparhawk pulled a purse from under his belt and handed it to his squire. Then he firmly took Faran by the chin and looked straight into the big roan’s eyes.

‘I want you to go with Berit, Faran,’ he said. ‘Behave exactly as you would if he were me.’

Faran flicked his ears and looked away.

‘Pay attention,’ Sparhawk said sharply. ‘This is important.’

Faran sighed.

‘He knows what you’re talking about, Sparhawk,’ Khalad said. ‘He’s not stupid - just bad-tempered.’

Sparhawk handed the reins to Berit. Then he remembered something. ‘We’ll need a password,’ he said.

‘The rest of us are going to have different faces, so you won’t recognize us if we have to contact you.

Pick something ordinary.’

They all considered it.

‘How about “ramshorn”?’ Berit suggested. ‘it shouldn’t be too hard to work it into an ordinary conversation, and we’ve used it before.’

Sparhawk suddenly remembered Ulesim, most-favored disciple -of-holy-Arasham, standing atop a pile of rubble with Kuriks’s crossbow bolt sticking out of his forehead and the word ramshorn still on his lips.

‘Very good, Berit - ah - Sir Sparhawk, that is. It’s a word we all remember. ‘You’d better get started.’

They nodded and swung up into their saddles.

‘Good luck,’ Sparhawk said.

‘You too, my Lord,’ Khalad replied. And then the pair turned and rode slowly toward the drawbridge.

‘All we’ve really got to work with is the name Beresa,’ Sarabian mused, somewhat later. ‘Krager’s note said that Sparhawk would receive further instructions there.’

‘That could be a ruse, your Majesty,’ Itagne pointed out. ‘Actually, the exchange could take place at any time - and any place. That might have been the reason for the instructions to go overland.’

‘That’s true,’ Caalador agreed.

‘Scarpa and Zalasta might just be waiting on the beach on the west side of the Gulf of Micae wanting to make the trade right there, for all we know.’

‘We’re going to an awful lot of trouble here,’ Talen said. ‘Why doesn’t Sparhawk just have Bhelliom go rescue the Queen? It could pick her up and have her back here before Scarpa even knew she was gone.’

‘No,’ Aphrael said, shaking her head. ‘Bhelliom can’t do that any more than I can.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because we don’t know where she is - and we can’t go looking for her, because they’ll be able to sense us moving around.’

‘Oh. I didn’t know that.’

Aphrael rolled her eyes upward. ‘Men!’ she sighed.

‘It was very resourceful of Ehlana to slip her ring to Melidere,’ Sephrenia said, ‘but locating her would be much easier if she still had it with her.’

‘I sort of doubt that, dear,’ Vanion disagreed. ‘Zalasta of all people knows that the rings can be traced. If Ehlana had still been wearing it, the first thing Scarpa would have done would been to send Krager or Elron off in the opposite direction with it.’

‘You’re assuming that Zalasta’s involved in this,’ she disagreed. ‘There is the possibility that Scarpa’s acting on his own, you know. ’

‘It’s always better to assume the worst,’ he shrugged. ‘Our situation is much more perilous if Zalasta and Cyrgon are involved. If it’s only Scarpa, he’ll be relatively easy to dispose of.’

‘But only after Ehlana and Alcan are safe,’ Sparhawk amended.

That goes without saying, ‘Sparhawk,’ Vanion said. ‘Everything hinges on the moment of the exchange then, doesn’t it?’

Sarabian noted. ‘We can make some preparations, but we won’t be able to do anything at all significant until the moment that Scarpa actually produces Ehlana.’

‘And that means that we have to stay close to Berit and Khalad,’ Tynian added.

‘No.’ Aphrael was shaking her head. ‘You’ll give everything away if you all start hovering over those two.

Let me do the staying close. I don’t wear armor, so no one will be able to smell me from a thousand paces off. Itagne’s right. The exchange could come at any time. I’ll let Sparhawk know the very instant Scarpa shows up with Ehlana and Alcan. Then Bhelliom can set him down - with knife - right on top of them. Then we’ll have the ladies back, and we’ll be more or less in charge of things again.’

‘And that brings us right back to a purely military situation,’ Patriarch Emban mused. ‘I think we’ll want to send word to Komier and Bergsten. We’re going to need the Church Knights in Cynesga and Arjuna, not in Edam or Astel - or here in Matherion. Let’s have them ride southeast after they come down out of the mountains of Zemoch. We’ll have the Atans in Sarna, the eastern Peloi and the Church Knights we’ve already got in Samar, the Trolls in the Tamul Mountains and Komier and Bergsten on the western side of the Desert of Cynesga. We’ll be able to squeeze the land of the Cyrgai like a lemon at that point’

‘And see what kind of seeds come popping out,’ Kalten added bleakly.

Patriarch Emban, First Secretary of the Church of Chyrellos, was a man who absolutely adored lists. The fat little churchman automatically drew up a list when any subject was being discussed. There is a certain point in most discussions when things have all been settled, and the participants start going back over the various points. Inevitably, that was the point at which Emban pulled out his list.

‘All right then,’ he said in a tone that clearly said that he was summing up, ‘Sparhawk will take ship for Beresa, along with Milord Stragen and young master Talen, right?’

‘It puts him in place in case Berit and Khalad do, in fact, have to ride all the way down there, your Grace,’ Vanion said. ‘And Stragen and Talen have contacts in Beresa, so they’ll probably be able to find out just who else is in town.’

Emban checked that off his list. ‘Next. Sir Kalten, Sir Bevier and Master Caalador will sail south on a different ship and go into the jungles of Arjuna.’

Caalador nodded. ‘I’ve got a friend in Delo who has contacts with the robber bands in those jungles,’ he said. ‘We’ll join one of those bands, so we’ll be able to keep an eye on Natayos and pass the word if Scarpa’s army starts to move.’

‘Right.’ Emban checked that off.

‘Next. Sir Ulath and Sir Tynian will go to the Tamul Mountains to stay in touch with the Trolls.’ He frowned. ‘Why is Tynian going there?’ he asked. ‘He doesn’t speak Trollish.’

‘Tynian and I get along well,’ Ulath rumbled, ‘and I’ll get terribly lonely if there’s no one around to talk with but Trolls. You have no idea of how depressing it is to be alone with Trolls, your Grace.’

‘Whatever makes you happy, Sir Ulath.’ Emban shrugged. ‘Now then, Sephrenia and Anarae Xanetia will go to Delphaeus to advise Anari Codon about all these recent developments and to explain what we’re doing.’

‘And to see what we can do to make peace between Styricum and the Delphae,’ Sephrenia added.

Emban checked off another item. He said, ‘Lord Vanion, Queen Betuana, Ambassador Itagne and Domi Kring will take the five thousand knights and go to Western Tamul Proper to join with the forces they have in place in Sarna and Samar.’

‘Where is Domi Kring?’ Betuana asked, looking around for the little man.

‘He’s standing guard over Mirtai,’ Princess Danae said. ‘He’s still about half afraid she might try to kill herself.’

‘We could have a problem there,’ Bevier observed. ‘Under those circumstances, Kring might not be willing to leave Matherion.’

‘We can get along without him if we have to,’ Vanion said. ‘I can deal with Tikume directly. Having Kring around would make it easier, but I can make do without him if he really thinks that Mirtai might do something foolish.’

Emban nodded. ‘Emperor Sarabian, Foreign Minister Oscagne and I will stay here in Matherion to hold down the fort, and the Child Goddess will keep us all in touch with each other. Have I left anything out?’

‘What do you want me to do, Emban?’ Danae asked sweetly.

‘You’ll stay here in Matherion with us, your Royal Highness,’ Emban replied, ‘to brighten our gloomy days

and nights with the sunshine of your smile’

‘Are you making fun of me, your Grace?’

‘Of course not, Princess.’

To say that Mirtai was unhappy would have been the grossest of understatements. She was in chains when Kring brought her into the council chamber with a hopeless kind of look on his face.

‘Nothing I say even reaches her,’ the Domi told them. ‘I think she’s even forgotten that we’re betrothed.’

The golden Atan giantess would not look at any of them, but sank instead to the floor in abject misery.

‘She has failed her owner.’ Betuana shrugged.

‘She must either avenge or die.’

‘Not quite, your Majesty,’ Sparhawk’s daughter said firmly. She slipped down from the chair in the corner from which she had been watching the proceedings. She deposited Rollo in one corner of the chair and Mmrr in the other and crossed the room to Mirtai with a businesslike look on her small face.

‘Atana Mirtai,’ she said crisply, ‘get up off the floor.’ Mirtai looked sullenly at her, then slowly rose, her chains rattling.

‘In my mother’s absence, I am the queen,’ Danae declared.

Sparhawk blinked.

‘You’re not Ehlana,’ Mirtai said.

‘I’m not pretending to be. I’m stating a legal fact. Sarabian, isn’t that the way it works? Isn’t my mother’s power mine while she’s away?’

‘Well - technically, I suppose.’ ‘Technically my foot. I’m Queen Ehlana’s heir. I’m assuming her position until she returns. That means that I temporarily own everything that’s hers - her throne, her crown, her jewels, and her personal slave.’

‘I’d hate to have to argue against her in a court of law,’ Emban admitted.

‘Thank you, your Grace,’ Danae said. ‘All right, Atana Mirtai, you heard them. You’re my property now.’

Mirtai scowled at her.

‘Don’t do that,’ Danae snapped. ‘Pay attention. I am your owner, and I forbid you to kill yourself. I also forbid you to run off. I need you here. You’re going to stay here with Melidere and me, and you’re going to guard us. You failed my mother.

Don’t fail me.’

Mirtai stiffened, and then she broke her chains with an angry wrench of her arms.

‘It shall be as you say, your Majesty,’ she snapped, her eyes blazing. Danae looked around at the rest of them with a smug little smile. ‘See,’ she said. ‘Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?’