======================

Book Information:

Genre: Fantasy

Author: John Marco

Title: The Eyes of a God

======================

Notes:

Scanned by JASC

If you correct any minor errors, please change the version number below (and in the file name) to a slightly higher one e.g. from .9 to .95 or if major revisions, to v. 1.0/2.0

etc..

Current e-book version is .9 (most formatting errors have been corrected—but OCR

errors still occur in the text; semi proofed)

Comments, Questions, Requests (no promises): daytonascan4911@hotmail.com

DO NOT READ THIS BOOK OF YOU DO NOT OWN/POSSES THE PHYSICAL

COPY. THAT IS STEALING FROM THE AUTHOR.

======================

The Eyes of a

God

John Marco

Barely twenty-seven, he still had a soldier's lust for life. Were it up to him, he would never make peace with Reec. That way, Lüria would always need him.

But it wasn't up to him. Akeela ruled Lüria now, and this was a matter he had decided alone. If war was Lukien's calling, then peace was Akeela's. Lukien glanced at his king and was pleased to be with him. If a trap did lay ahead of him, he would welcome death at the side of such a good man.

smiled as if nothing could sour his mood. "Put your suspicions away, Lukien. Nothing will go wrong."

Lukien nodded, because everything Akeela said was true. He was seldom wrong, this new king of Lüria, and that's why his people adored him. It was why they called him "Akeela the Good." And it was why men like Lukien and the other Royal Chargers followed him, even into the heart of Reec. Lukien settled into his saddle, trying for some of Akeela's abundant confidence. Behind them, the cavalry rode at attention, unnerved by the sight of Hes. The Bronze Knight stole a backward glance at his men. Behind the standard bearer he saw Lieutenant Trager. Unlike his underlings, Trager showed no trace of fear, but his silence belied his anxiety. Lukien leaned toward Akeela.

'Trager seems… uneasy."

Akeela put up a hand. "Not today, please."

'You should have left him at home. He'll disrupt things."

'He won't," said Akeela. "You're just trying to irritate him. Stop it now."

Like many of the Chargers, Trager hadn't wanted to come to Reec. Behind Akeela's back he had secretly sneered at the notion of peace, sure that King Karis would snub the offer. Yet here they were, on the road to the Reecian capital, invited guests of the king. For Lukien, who had battled the Reecians since graduating war college, it seemed a miracle. Akeela was right to be proud. He had done something his dead father had never dared dream. If the meeting went well—if they weren't riding stupidly into a trap—then years of bloodshed might end and Lukien's Royal Chargers could at last sheath their swords.

The decades of war had made them hard and suspicious, but the light in Akeela's eyes had convinced them that peace was in fact possible. Like Lukien, they quested for Akeela's dream.

Lukien knew his world was about to change irrevocably. Under Akeela, they all faced an uncertain future. Even if it was one of peace, it would still not be perfect for the Bronze Knight. Lukien was still a young man, and peerless with a sword. He had earned his reputation the hard way. War was his life, his best and truest calling. Without war he would change, and the idea chafed him. To sit at home with a dog at his feet simply didn't interest High in a tower of Castle Hes, Princess Cassandra of Reec cocked an eyebrow toward the window, marveling at the soldiers approaching her home. It was nearly dusk but she could see them faintly in the dimming light; their silver armor, their well-bred horses, their blue flag stirring listlessly on a pole. They were very many, much more than she had expected. She wiped the mist from the glass, spying the front of the column. Akeela would be there, leading his men, as brave as the stories said.

'Come away from the window, Cassandra," the girl implored. Jancis was nervous, and her voice quavered a little. The handmaiden had laid out Cassandra's dress and continued fussing with it, smoothing out wrinkles that weren't there.

'They're coming," said Cassandra.

'You'll see them soon enough. Come on, Cass, we must dress you."

'Come here, Jancis, look at them."

With a sigh Jancis did as her lady asked, going to the window to stand beside Cassandra. The princess, still in her undergarments, stepped aside so Jancis could see.

'Look, at the front. The two riding alone."

Jancis nodded. "Uh-huh," she said dully.

'Do you see them?"

'Barely."

'Do you think Akeela's at the front?"

'Probably," said Jancis. The handmaiden frowned. "I suppose that brute Lukien is with him."

'I suppose," agreed Cassandra sourly. No one had wanted her father to allow the Bronze Knight into Reec, but Karis had in sisted, for King Akeela would not come without him. " I bet he's an arrogant-looking bastard, too."

'Too far away to tell." Jancis bit her lip. "Hmm, I wonder what Akeela looks like. I can't wait to see him."

Cassandra's curiousity spiked. She went back to the window, nudging Jancis aside. Akeela was much too far away to see, and that frustrated her. It frustrated her, too, that she'd been obsessing over his appearance. He was a great man coming to Reec, with a great offer, and that should have been enough for her. But Cassandra knew she was special, and had long dreamed of a special husband. It was a childish thing, she supposed, but the dream was still with her. Cassandra thought it very strange that no one knew what Akeela looked like, or had faced him in battle. Most princes were warriors, but not this one. He let his infamous knight make war for him, while he himself stayed safe behind castle walls. Was he a coward then? Cassandra didn't think so. It took courage for a Lürian to ride into Reec.

'He's a mystery," Cassandra purred. The idea intrigued her. She moved away from the window and drifted toward her bed, an oak four-poster with ruffled sheets and perfumed pillows. The dress Jancis had made for her lay across the mattress, looking pristine and beautiful, the perfect garment for seduction. The princess looked down at her smock-clad body. She was seventeen and had filled out nicely. She knew this from the way the men at court looked at her, and she loved to play games with them. But Akeela was a king. Surely he had been with many women, and would judge her critically. A touch of inadequacy—something Cassandra rarely felt—began to tug at her. She had accepted her father's request to marry the Lürian gladly, because she was tired of Hes and loved the idea of being a queen. But she had made sure that she supported her father's plan with just enough restraint to keep her modesty. However, that had been a month ago, and now Akeela was at her doorstep. Worse, the Lürian king didn't even know what her father had planned.

More than anything, Cassandra wanted this peace to work. She had seen the disbelief in her father's eyes when Akeela's message had arrived, imploring a summit. Her father had never seemed so happy, or so grave. To make this peace he would do anything, even give her away. Cassandra pretended to care for her father's sake, but to be away from Hes—away from the shadows of so many sisters—was her fondest dream. And to be a queen! Which of her sisters could say that yet?

'We should dress you now," said Jancis, "before they get here. Your father may want you to greet them."

Cassandra nodded but said nothing. Jancis picked up on her silence and shot her a questioning look.

'How are you feeling?" Jancis whispered.

Cassandra groaned. She didn't want anyone finding out about her pains, not today when she was so close to leaving. "You promised you wouldn't speak of that today."

'You're all right then?"

'Yes, and keep your voice down." Instinctively Cassandra looked toward the closed door, hoping no one was outside. "I'm fine. I haven't felt the pain for days."

'I don't believe you," replied Jancis. "I heard you this morning. If you're feeling fine, why were you vomiting?"

'Oh, you're such a witch sometimes!" snapped Cassandra. "Stop ear-wigging on me." She sat down on the edge of the bed, knowing she couldn't escape her friend. The sickness had come upon her a week ago, and had gotten worse before it had gotten better. Now it came in fits, a burning pain in her stomach that made her retch and sometimes turned her water red. She didn't know what it was, and truly didn't care to find out. She only knew that if her father discovered it, her marriage—her chance at greatness—would vanish. "It hurts sometimes when I eat, and that's all," she admitted. "I was nervous at breakfast. It's made me a little sick." She looked up. "Don't worry, Jancis. And don't you dare say a word to anyone."

The girl remained troubled. "I'm afraid for you, Cass. You should let Danette look at you, at least.

She won't tell anyone, and maybe she can give you something for the cramps."

'Danette has a mouth as wide as the Kryss. I can't tell her anything, and neither can you. And besides, you make it sound like my moon blood, which it's not. What's that old midwife going to do for me?" hind her, leaving Cassandra to stare blankly at her father. The ruler of Reec took a step forward, his eyes revealing an inner sadness. Cassandra had expected the visit, and had dreaded it.

'You've seen them from your window?" asked her father. His voice was soft. With her, it was always soft.

'Yes. That's why I must dress."

Karis shook his head. "No, not yet. I'll be meeting with them when they arrive, but briefly. Akeela will be tired, too tired for even you to seduce him." His eyes traced over his daughter. "I want him to be as impressed as I am when he sees you."

'Then I won't be meeting him now?" asked Cassandra.

'Tonight," said the king, "after they've rested. When we dine, you'll meet him."

The princess drooped. She had waited so long to meet her new husband, and couldn't bear more delays. But she didn't argue with her father. Instead she let out a dramatic sigh, going back to the bedside and sitting down.

'I wanted to talk to you before tonight," said Karis. He sat down next to her on the bed, then picked up her hand and placed it in his own. His skin was rough against her petal-soft fingers. But his eyes were soft and affectionate.

'A father shouldn't have favorites, I know," he said. "But I'll tell you something now, Cassandra. I've loved you best of all."

'I know," said Cassandra. "You don't have to say so, Father."

'I want you to understand why I'm doing this," he said. "You do understand, yes?"

'For peace," Cassandra replied. It was what her father wanted to hear. "For the good of Reec."

'And everyone in it, including all your sisters and their children. And even for my own good." Karis squeezed her hand. "This is a great favor, daughter. Perhaps I'm selfish to ask it. So let me give you one last chance to refuse me. If you don't wish to marry this Lürian, say so now, before I make the offer."

Cassandra squirmed. Her father didn't know how she really felt, because she hid it so well. "You would think less of me if I refused now, Father."

'Never. I could never think less of you." He looked deep into " I don't know," Jancis confessed.

"That's why I'm worried. Maybe you'll need a real physician. Maybe—"

'Jancis, stop," bade Cassandra. She help up one finger, the way she always did when Jancis rambled.

"That's enough. You promised to keep quiet about it, and I expect you to do so. Now…" She stood up and tucked her long hair behind her ears. "Let's dress me."

Jancis was about to take the garment from the bed when a knock came at the door. Dressed only in her undertunic, Cassandra jumped at the intrusion, wrapping her arms about herself. "Who is it?" she asked.

'Your father, girl. Open up."

As expected, the king had come to fetch her. Cassandra replied, "I'm not dressed yet, Father."

A laugh came from behind the door. "I bathed you myself and know every inch of you. You're going to show modesty now? Fetch a robe and open the door."

Jancis hurried a dressing robe out of the wardrobe and hustled Cassandra into it. As the princess tied the garment's belt around her waist, Jancis opened the door. King Karis stood alone in the threshold. His pepper-black beard was split with a wide grin, and his body was swathed in crimson velvet, kingly attire for the meeting to come. He wore all his rings today, great gem-stones that twinkled in the torchlight, and when he saw his youngest daughter across the room he beamed. Jancis had brushed Cassandra's hair till it shone and had carefully painted her face and nails. Even in her plain dressing robe, Cassandra was beautiful.

'Daughter, you look lovely," said the king. He stepped into the room. Jancis curtsied and kept her eyes averted. Karis hardly noticed her. He was taken by the vision of his daughter, which always filled Cassandra with pride.

'Father?" she asked innocently. "What is it?"

Karis turned to Jancis. "Would you leave us, please? I need to talk with my daughter."

'Talk? But Father, we're dressing."

'Jancis, go," said the king. The handmaiden didn't wait to be asked again. Quickly she left the room and closed the door be her eyes. "The truth, Cassandra. There'll be no going back for you, not once the offer is made. And life in Lüria will be hard for you." "Not so hard, probably."

Karis chuckled. "Ah, you don't know yet, daughter. You think only of being a queen. But we don't know this man, not nearly as well as we should. He may breed you like a bitch, one pup after another.

Lürian men can be brutal."

'He is kind," said Cassandra. "You said so yourself. Only a kind man would offer peace, you said."

'True," admitted Karis, reminded of his words. "But it won't be a fairy tale. You know that, don't you?"

'Father, what is this?" Cassandra asked, laughing. "Now you don't want me to marry him?"

Karis' face was firm. "I want you to be sure of your decision, because it is your decision, not mine. I have no greater gift to give this king than you, Cassandra, but you are no slave. Say no to me now, and there will be no harm to it. I'll find another way to seal the peace."

For a moment, Cassandra almost told her father the truth. She almost confessed her great desire to leave her city and country behind, to finally be her own woman and not just one of Karis' daughters. But she didn't tell her father that, because it would have broken his heart.

'You said that Akeela is special," Cassandra reminded him, "and that any woman would be lucky to be his queen. I believe that it is so, Father."

Karis studied her with a grin. "You parse words like a barrister, Cassandra. Don't do this thing just to spare my feelings."

'Father, I am Reecian," said Cassandra. "If Akeela will have me, then I will marry him, because I love you and I love our land."

It wasn't really a lie, and it made her father's face shine. Karis patted his daughter's hand and said,

"You're special to me. You always will be. And you will always be my daughter, even when you are a queen." The king rose from the bed, straightening his stunning tunic. "Rest for now. Tonight, when the banquet begins, I will send for you. You will dance for King Akeela, and he will fall in love with you."

Cassandra smiled. Since she had blossomed into womanhood, every man seemed to love her. It gave her power, the taste of which was sweet.

When her father left the chamber, Cassandra rose from the bed and went back to the window.

Outside, she could see Akee-la's little army, now just outside the city gates.

he Reecian capital rose in a splendid arc before them. Lukien had never been so close to the city before, and as he rode beside Akeela, nearing the tall iron gates, he marveled at the simple, natural architecture and the grace of his enemies. Hes wasn't like Koth, Lüria's capital. It was smaller and had fewer tall towers, so that light fell easily on its white and brown cement, giving it a shimmering appearance. As the sun dipped down, the city came alive with candles, blinking in the round windows and lending the place an orange sheen. Lukien slowed his column as they neared the city gates. The dentate portals were opened wide in welcome. Beyond them, mounted soldiers sat at attention, their swords sheathed and their shoulders rigid. A procession of Reecian citizens stretched out behind them, disappearing down the avenues and watching the newcomers in silent awe. Lukien heard music, the brassy parade tunes the Reecians favored. An uneasiness grew in his stomach. Despite the obvious welcome Hes was giving Akeela, the Bronze Knight cringed inwardly. In the five years since becoming a full-ranked Royal Charger, he had clashed with these people dozens of times.

'You see?" said Akeela. "They welcome us. As I told you they would."

The king rode a bit faster toward the waiting city. Lukien spurred his horse to keep up.

'Slowly, Akeela," he warned. He brought his chestnut charger to a trot beside his king, steering the beast toward its brother to block its stride. "Let me go first."

Akeela relented, checking his eagerness. He brought his horse to a halt. The winding column behind him stopped. Lukien waved his lieutenants forward, and Trager and Breck trotted out of the mass.

'We'll go first," he told the pair. "The king will follow."

Breck nodded his red head. Trager's face didn't change. The two rode beside each other but behind Lukien, ready to lead their king and his procession into the city. As he turned back toward Hes, Lukien noticed a group of well-dressed nobles at the gate's threshold. Karis' counselors wore red and gold tunics and uneasy smiles on their bearded faces. One of them, taller and more regal than the others, stood a pace ahead of his companions, a black cape around his shoulders and sword at his side. The smile on his face twisted when he noticed Lukien coming toward him, and soon the contagion spread through the others. The soldiers along the avenue cocked their helmeted heads; a murmur rippled through the crowds.

The Bronze Knight had come.

Lukien squared his shoulders. He was Akeela's herald, and that meant he needed to be fearless. His armored horse snorted its disdain, and Lukien rode across the threshold of Hes, into the midst of his enemies. The music grew as the musicians lining the avenues strummed their guitars and blew into their horns, and the red flags of Reec were everywhere, hanging down from apartment windows and held aloft by proud teenagers. Yet to Lukien's surprise the Lürian flag was displayed too, held by a Reecian honor guard resplendent in crimson tunics and white gloves. As Lukien approached the nobles just inside the city, the foursome bowed deeply, putting their hands over their hearts and lowering their eyes to the cobblestones. They did not lift themselves until Lukien's shadow fell upon them.

'I am Lukien of Lüria," he declared. "Herald of King Akeela and Captain of his Royal Chargers."

The four noblemen raised their eyes to Lukien. The tall one's smile was inscrutable.

'Welcome," he said. He spread his arms wide, looking past Lukien to where Akeela waited behind Trager and Breck. "I am Earl Linuk of Glain. On behalf of King Karis and all of Reec, I welcome you."

'Thank you," said Lukien. He remembered the name Linuk, sure that he had faced the Reecian in combat before. As Earl of Glain, Linuk ruled one of Reec's largest territories and was one of Karis'

closest advisors. Akeela had expected him at the meeting, but his presence distracted Lukien nonetheless. Hurriedly he spun his horse around to reveal his king. Trager and Breck parted, and Akeela rode forward. Again the four noblemen bowed, honoring the young ruler.

'My lord Akeela," said Linuk. His voice rang with awe. "This is a great honor for us. We welcome you to Hes, and grant you all our city has to offer."

Akeela looked regal atop his horse, and his expression warmed with good humor. "Earl Linuk, the honor is mine. Rise, please."

The earl did as Akeela commanded, and Akeela surveyed the soldiers and citizenry that had gathered to meet him. Except for the music the huge crowd was remarkably quiet. Even the children hanging out of the nearby windows were silent. Akeela cleared his throat, then raised a hand to them all, just as he had practiced. He declared, "Thank you all for this warm welcome. I am truly glad to be here, and to be honored by you. This will be a great day, a great moment in history for both our nations."

And with that, the crowd erupted. The people clapped and the children shouted, and the musicians played louder to compete with the clamor. Earl Linuk and his fellow nobles beamed at Akeela, looking relieved. Lukien felt a sudden calm. If this was a trap, it was ridiculously elaborate. He glanced back at his friend Breck, who gave him a wink, then at Trager, who simply looked disbelieving. The second-in-command of the Royal Chargers spun around toward his men, signaling them to enter the city, and slowly the column of horses came forward, led by a wooden wagon covered with a white tarpaulin and flanked by four armored chargers. As the wagon rolled forward, Akeela pointed at it.

'We bring gifts for your king, Earl Linuk," he said. "May we present ourselves to him?"

The earl nodded. "King Karis awaits you at his castle, my lord," he said, then gestured toward the center of the city. There, °n a hill of green lawns and fruit trees, stood Castle Hes, a twin-towered citadel of gray stone slicing across the sky. The castle dominated the capital, throwing its two shadows down upon the baroque city. The main road from the gate seemed to lead directly to the castle, and the entire way was lined with onlookers and more of the ubiquitous musicians.

'It's been a long ride," said Akeela, "and I would like to meet your king as soon as possible. I think our gifts will please him, as will our news."

'The king wants nothing more than to speak with you, my lord, I assure you," said Linuk. "If you'll follow us, you will see him presently."

'Then lead on, Earl," chirped Akeela.

Linuk and his courtiers turned and went to their horses, a group of brawny beasts with crimson blankets waiting at the side of the avenue. At the earl's command the Reecian soldiers prepared to fall in line behind the Lürians. Akeela brought his horse forward, waving to the eager crowds. Lukien hurried alongside his king, followed directly by Trager, Breck, the wagonload of gifts, and the forty Royal Chargers accompanying them. The gates closed silently behind them, and Castle Hes beckoned them forward. Lukien looked about, spying the Reecians lining the street. All met his eyes with a distinct scorn.

Though they loved Akeela, apparently, they hated his herald. The knight leaned toward Akeela.

'You were right," he confessed. "Look at them. They adore you."

'They adore the thought of peace," said Akeela, his lips barely moving as he continued to smile and wave. "They are as weary of war as we are."

'We?" chuckled Lukien. "You, perhaps."

'All right then, me," said Akeela. "You're not king, Lukien. If you were, you'd feel differently."

Lukien decided not to ruin the moment. Of all the Chargers, only he himself craved war, because it defined him and because he knew nothing else. He said, "I'm happy for you, Akeela. I'm happy you're right."

'Be happy for Lüria," said Akeela. They were passing a crowd of young children, all boys, all excited and pointing at them. "Look there, you see those boys? They would have all grown up to be Reecian soldiers, with nothing more to look forward to than war. But they can have a future now. They won't have to face you on the battlefield."

Akeela's logic was flawless and cruel, and it made Lukien stiffen.

'As I said, I'm glad you were right."

The two rode in silence for minutes afterward, Akeela enjoying the crowds, Lukien enduring their stares. Earl Linuk and his party had brought them to the very edge of the castle hill, to another open gate leading to the outer ward of the citadel. Here, the crowds of citizens thinned, replaced by more soldiers and servants of the king. Stableboys and milkmaids had gathered in the yard, and the wide portcullis of Castle Hes had been raised, bidding them enter. The long columns of horsemen snaked into the ward, where Linuk and his men dismounted, handing their steeds off to waiting grooms. Akeela glanced up at the two towers, impressed by them. They were suitably grand, and the lichens climbing up their walls made them look ancient. Now that the sun was nearly down, the palace was lit with braziers. Grim-faced guards with feathers in their helms flanked the portcullis. Lukien waited for Linuk to fetch them. He dismounted, along with Trager and Breck.

Earl Linuk stepped forward and carefully took Akeela's reins. "My lord, if you'll come with me, I'll take you to King Karis. He's in his throne room, waiting for you."

Akeela dismounted, eager to follow the earl. "Will, see to the wagon, will you?"

Lieutenant Trager said, "Yes, my lord," and went to work. Like Lukien, he had known Akeela for years, and hated being ordered about. But he always did as ordered, and with Breck's help pulled back the tarpaulin from the wagon. Atop the wagon's bed was an iron chest with stout rivets and a padlock.

Akeela gestured to it, asking Linuk if he could bring it with him to the throne room. The earl agreed without hesitation, but when Linuk called some of his men forward to carry it, Akeela said, "Don't bother, Earl. My lieutenants will see to it," then followed the earl through the portcullis. Lukien hurried after him.

'Breck, Trager," he ordered, "bring it along. The rest of you, stay behind."

Quickly he caught up with Akeela, falling in step behind him. The earl's men surrounded them, talking idly about how pleased they were to have Akeela in Reec. The young king nodded and smiled, well suited to his first diplomatic mission. Lukien was proud of him, the way an older brother would be proud of a younger sibling. They had talked about this moment for months, and all the while Akeela had fretted about the task. Yet the new king seemed every bit as polished as his late father.

The halls of Castle Hes were marvelous. High ceilings swallowed them, decorated with mosaics of colored marble and gilded glass. Huge windows revealed the night outside as it came alive with stars, and glowing torches stood like sentries along the walls. The stableboys and milkmaids had gone, and now only well-dressed nobles greeted them, bowing to Akeela as he passed. Lukien caught the eye of a comely noblewoman just in time to see her snicker. He sighed and looked away. Just ahead a pair of carved oak doors hung open on iron hinges.

'The throne room," said Linuk. He paused outside the chamber, stepping aside and gesturing for Akeela to enter. Akeela took a breath, then turned toward Lukien, giving his champion a nervous smile.

Lukien encouraged him with a wink. Then, with Akeela leading the way, the two Lürians stepped inside.

The throne room spread out before them, high and barrel-vaulted, with stout iron chandeliers and grand tapestries and a formidable dais at its far end. On the dais was a throne of ebony, with carved runes through its form and feet like the paws of a lion. Perched on the throne, his eyes as hard as diamonds, was King Karis of Reec. Akeela and Lukien took careful steps toward him, not averting their gaze. Karis' face was emotionless. He studied the pair dispassionately, barely twitching his ringed fingers.

Two more Reecians, dressed similarly to Linuk, stood on the dais beside him. Lukien guessed they were Raxor, the king's war minister, and Arnod, the Reecian treasurer. Raxor was the king's brother, and the family resemblance was striking. To Lukien's eye, they could have been twins. Not so with Arnod, who was much shorter than Raxor and fair-haired. Both advisors were quiet as Akeela approached, waiting for their king to speak first. An anxious silence filled the chamber.

Then, unexpectedly, Akeela dropped to one knee before the Reecian king. He bowed his head, put an arm across his knee as if being knighted, and said, "Great King of Reec, I am Akeela of Lüria. By accepting me into your home, you honor me."

Lukien couldn't believe the sight, nor could Karis. From the way the Reecian's eyebrows lifted, he seemed stunned by the greeting. Noticing that Lukien was still standing, Akeela casually reached out for his hand and gently dragged him downward. Reluctantly, Lukien joined in the bow, keeping his eyes on Karis. The King of Reec looked first at his advisors, then back at Akeela.

'King Akeela," he said finally, "Thank you."

Akeela and Lukien rose. The young king offered his host one of his warm smiles, which the Reecian did not return. Karis merely studied them. Thinking the stillness of the chamber would suffocate him, Lukien nudged Akeela to say something. But the king remained silent.

'You're very young," said Karis."My advisors tell me you are twenty-four years old. Is that so?"

'Your advisors are accurate, King Karis," said Akeela. "I am twenty-four."

'How many years have Reec and Lüria been at war?" pressed Karis. His tone was featureless, neither threatening nor mild. "Do you know?"

'Since before I was born, my lord," replied Akeela. "For twenty-eight years, since the battle of Awalak."

'That's right," sighed Karis. "A very long time, your whole lifetime and more. So tell me then why a scholar like yourself is so anxious to end a war his father loved, so soon after taking his place."

Insulted, Lukien stepped forward. "You presume a great deal, King Karis," he said. "King Balak never loved war. To say so is to slander him."

'Lukien," said Akeela, taking his shoulder. "Be easy."

King Karis rose from his throne. For the first time, anger flashed in his eyes. "You are the Bronze Knight," he declared. " Butcher. I should warn you to be silent, Lukien of Lüria. You are not so welcome here as your king."

Lukien wanted to speak but Akeela's insistent grip on his shoulder stopped him. Akeela stepped forward, saying, "Lukien is my champion, my lord. I go nowhere without him, and you've already agreed to let him accompany me."

'Yes," said Karis. "I did agree, because I wanted to speak with you, King Akeela, and to hear your offer." His eyes went to Lukien. "But I warn you, Bronze Knight—I tolerate you only for the comfort of your king."

Akeela said calmly, "And I should warn you, King Karis, that Lukien was as close to King Balak as a son. Speaking against my father will invite his ire. And mine."

Karis grunted suspiciously. "You are brothers, then?"

'Of a kind," replied Akeela.

'All right, then," agreed Karis. "We are here to talk peace, after all."

Before Akeela could respond, a clamor sounded in the doorway. Lukien turned to see Trager, Breck, and four others of their brigade toting the iron box. Earl Linuk was before them, smiling at his king.

'My lord, forgive me, but King Akeela has brought this for you."

Karis looked perplexed, and also strangely pleased. He stepped down from his dais just as the sweating men dropped the chest to the floor with a thud.

'What is it?" Karis asked.

'Gifts," said Akeela brightly. "From Lüria to you, King Karis. I think you'll like what we've brought you. In fact, I have something very special to give you."

Lukien bristled, realizing what Akeela meant. But Karis seemed intrigued. Instantly he had lost his dispassion toward Akeela, and now seemed to share the young man's exuberance. Raxor and Arnod gathered near him as he peered at the box. To Lukien, they looked like a bunch of children waiting for Akeela to open a toy chest. Then, as if he'd suddenly come to his senses, Raxor put out a hand.

'Wait, my lord," he told Karis. His eyelids narrowed on Akeela. "Tell us first what is in there."

'Raxor…"

'Brother, it could be dangerous," advised the war minister.

'I'm sorry to say this in front of our guests, but they are Lürians, after all."

The king flushed. "Forgive my brother, King Akeela. He means no offense, I assure you."

Akeela produced a shiny silver key from beneath his cape. "I promise you, my lord, there is no danger in the box. Only good things. May I proceed?"

'Of course," said Karis, ignoring his brother's concern. He stepped closer to the box in a show of goodwill. Raxor stood beside him, but Arnod kept back a pace. Curiosity got the better of Earl Linuk, who came to stand next to his king, and as Akeela clicked open the padlock and tilted open the iron lid, the faces of the Reecians took on an amber glow, bathed in the reflected glow of the contents. Nearly everything in the box was gold; coins and candelabras and carving knives, rings and plates and picture frames, all shimmering in the chest. It was more than a fortune, more than a king's ransom, and it made Karis' jaw drop. The Reecian king hovered over the box, dumbfounded. Akeela swelled proudly.

'For the people of Reec," he said. "From the people of Lüria. There's something in here from nearly every citizen of Koth, my lord. These are not only valuables from my own coffers, but from farmers and blacksmiths, even from my own soldiers, here." He gestured to Lukien, who himself had tossed a gold-hilted dagger into the chest.

Karis could barely speak. "They did this for you?" he asked.

'They did this for peace," said Akeela. "Not for me."

'My king is modest," said Lukien. "They would not have done this for any other ruler, not even his father."

King Karis shook his head in disbelief. "In Lüria they call you Akeela the Good," he said. "I know this. And now I know why."

'It is the people of Lüria that are good, my lord. I asked them to contribute and they did so willingly."

Akeela brightened. "But that's not all. Look closer at the chest, my lord."

Puzzled, Karis did as asked, staring into the box and its lustrous contents. "Yes?"

'That bunch of cloth. Pick it up."

Laying atop the golden heap was a piece of blue linen,

wrapped securely around a hidden item. Karis reached out and plucked it from the pile, holding it carefully.

'What is it?" he asked.

'Go ahead, unwrap it," urged Akeela. Lukien cringed. Like Trager, he had dreaded this moment. It was the one thing he and his lieutenant agreed upon. He watched Karis peel the blue linen back until its contents was revealed—a little crystal bottle filled with clear liquid. Karis held it up to the light. His advisors gathered around to see it.

'Forgive me, King Akeela," said Karis, "but your gift is…

baffling."

'That's water from the river Kryss," said Akeela. His voice quavered, and Lukien knew he was nervous. After this, there could be no going back. "It's yours, my lord."

Karis looked at him, not quite understanding, or not daring to believe.

'My lord, you said it yourself," said Akeela. "Since before I was born, Reec and Lüria have battled, and all because of a river. We've always thought the Kryss was ours, and you've always thought it belonged to you. I don't know how many people have died for that bloody stream; I don't think anyone could count. But I'm king now, and I won't let it go on." He shrugged, and for a moment he looked more like a boy than a monarch. "The river Kryss is yours. If you'll allow Lüria free trade on the western side, we will quarrel with you over it no more."

King Karis of Reec blinked, mute with surprise. He didn't move, but merely stared at Akeela with his mouth open. "Fate above," said Linuk. "Do you mean this?" "Everything my king says is the truth," said Lukien. "Akeela the Good does not lie."

'You would give us the Kryss?" asked Raxor. The war minister seemed dazed. "Just like that?"

'No," said Akeela sharply. "Not just like that. For peace, and peace only. That's the price for these gifts. You may keep all this gold, but if you break this pact there will be bloodshed again. And I'm gambling that none of us wants that. Do you want war,

King Karis?"

Still Karis didn't reply. Clutching the bottle of river water, he climbed back to his throne, seating himself. Lukien knew Akeela's gift had astonished him. After nearly thirty years of war, the Kryss was suddenly his, and now he didn't know what to do with it.

'Do you know the cards of Noor, King Akeela?" he asked.

Akeela nodded. In Lüria, fortune cards were common, just like all other arcane trappings. "I know of them, but that is all." he replied.

'When your father died, I read the cards," said Karis. "I wanted to know what kind of man was succeeding him. The cards told me that you were a man of peace. It was the first time I thought they were lying to me. Now it seems the cards have shamed me. I should have listened."

Akeela stepped toward the throne. "We have an agreement, then?"

Karis gave a huge grin. "Oh, young king, we have so much more than that. We have peace, for the first time in my memory. You have made an old man very happy."

The Reecians in the room cheered, and Akeela and Breck joined them. Even Lukien grinned. Akeela clapped the shoulder of Earl Linuk, then embraced Raxor and Arnod in turn. Finally, he climbed onto the dais to take Karis' hand, but Karis rose instead, took Akeela's hand in his own, and placed a gentle kiss on it.

'Tonight we will celebrate," he declared. "There will be music and we will feast. All your men must attend, and we will show you how Reecians celebrate!"

'Thank you, my lord," said Akeela. To Lukien, he looked gigantically relieved. "Then we will see you tonight. And if you have rooms for us, we would be grateful. 'Twas a long road from Lüria."

'Rooms are already prepared for you," said Karis. "Earl Linuk will escort you, and my servants will see to your needs. Rest well for tonight, King Akeela. You are not the only one with gifts."

Akeela squinted at him. "My lord?"

Karis laughed and released his hand. "You'll see what I mean. For now, just rest and enjoy my home."

what he needed to survive or working for pennies in the slave-like conditions of smithies. By eleven he was emaciated from this grueling life, but by thirteen he was becoming a man, and life in the smithies had strengthened his body and hardened his heart. Then, at fourteen, he had met Akeela.

Akeela, who was three years younger than Lukien, had been touring the Lürian capital with some of his father's advisors. A contingent of guards had accompanied them, but Akeela, curious about things even then, had wandered off to explore on his own, blundering into the alleys Lukien called home. It hadn't taken long for the roughs in the area to find the well dressed stranger. Even for his age Akeela was short, but he had defended himself against the youths that had robbed him, swearing when Lukien found him that he'd bloodied the noses of two of them. Of course it was Akeela who was truly bloody.

Thoroughly drubbed by the boys, Akeela needed help finding his way back to his royal guardians. And when they had located the guards and gotten Akeela safely into his carriage, the boy-prince had told his protectors not to go looking for the youths that had robbed him, because they were poor and knew no better.

In all the years since then, Lukien had never forgotten that moment. Had he been the victim, he would have tracked the rabble down and killed them, but not so this forgiving youngster. Instead, Akeela had insisted that Lukien return to the castle with them, to get some clean clothing and a good meal, and to meet his father, the king. There, the young Lukien was greeted as a hero for helping the prince, and King Balak had practically adopted him. He hadn't left the castle since; as he had never left Akeela's side, because the young prince needed him.

But Lukien always remembered the hard-won lessons of the street, and he had never forgiven his drunken father for leaving him, nor his mother for dying. Those were burdens he carried [th him everywhere, even onto the battlefield, and it was an unfortunate enemy indeed who came upon the Bronze Knight and his unwieldy emotions. In Koth's castle he had grown to manhood, had studied in the Lürian war college, and graduated the top of his class. He had become the paragon of a horse A .keela had been given chambers in the south tower of Castle Hes, overlooking the city and its vast marketplace.

They were well appointed rooms, fit for a royal visitor, furnished lavishly with silk and tapestries. A cavernous collection of hallways connected the rooms, so that Akeela not only had a bed chamber, but also a dressing room and a separate room for bathing. A huge bed of iron and brass decorated with plush pillows had been prepared for him, along with a platter of fresh breads and cheeses. Earl Linuk, who had escorted Akeela to the rooms, had told him to rest and make ready for the banquet being prepared for him. Linuk had seen to Akeela personally, while Karis' servants tended to the other Lürians, finding them rooms on lower floors. Linuk had not expected Lukien to insist on sharing the rooms with Akeela. Cordially, Linuk explained that he had prepared a nearby room for the king's "bodyguard," but Lukien had ignored him, choosing instead to remain with Akeela.

Lukien was always with Akeela.

Sometimes, it seemed to Lukien that he had been with Akeela his whole life. They were nothing alike, really, but over the years they had become like brothers, and had even been raised as such by Akeela's father, Balak, who adored Lukien. Abandoned by his father and orphaned by the death of his mother, Lukien had lived in the streets of Koth, with only his ten-year old wits to protect him from the big-city predators. He had been a thief, stealing soldier, rising to command the Royal Chargers. Still Lukien brooded as he recalled his miserable life on the streets of Koth.

All these things Lukien considered as he sat by the window overlooking Hes' marketplace, absently chewing an apple. From high in the tower, Hes looked much the same as Koth, and the similarity triggered unpleasant memories. Lukien stretched out, holding back a sigh. Inside the dressing chamber, Akeela was i preparing for the celebration. Lukien himself had already dressed, choosing a tunic of plain brown and some stiff black j boots that Karis' servants had provided. Already Lukien felt himself growing anxious. He didn't like the idea of eating with Ree- : cians, or of spending the evening being stared at. But Akeela was i in a fine mood, for he had brokered his peace with Karis and was j ready to celebrate. As the young king readied himself in the | nearby chamber, Lukien could hear him whistling.

Whistling. Lukien couldn't help but laugh. At twenty-four, Akeela still resembled the boy he had rescued in the alley.

'Akeela the Good," he whispered, shaking his head. An apt name for such a blameless man.

Suddenly, Lukien was pleased with his life as Akeela's champion. Sometimes brothers are less than friends, he knew, but that didn't mean there was love lost. Putting aside his half-eaten apple, he got out of the chair and strode toward the dressing chamber. "Almost ready?" he called. "They'll be expecting us."

Akeela stepped out of the small room, his hair shining with oil, his blue tunic stunning. Across his waist rested a silver belt with a small, ceremonial dagger, while on his feet were a pair of thigh-high boots, polished to a gemstone-like luster. "I'm ready," he declared. "And I'm starving." "Let's hope these Reecians can cook," said Lukien. He glanced down at Akeela's dagger. "You're taking that?"

Akeela caught his meaning. The Reecians had requested that Lukien himself bear no arms to the banquet. "It's just for ceremony," he explained. "Besides, you'll be sitting next to me. If anyone tries to harm me, you can grab my dagger and save me, all right?"

Lukien didn't laugh. Without his weapons he felt naked. "I think they'd try to poison you first. Not much good I could do then." you found a mirror in the hall and adjusted his collar. "You don't trust them, I know. But you'll see. The time for peace has come. The time for a new Lüria, maybe a whole new world."

" A grand dream."

'Nay, not a dream, Lukien. A plan." The young king smoothed down his hair. "Shall we go?"

With Akeela leading, Lukien followed him out of the chambers and into the hallway where two Reecian guards were waiting, ready to escort them downstairs. They explained that King Karis was already in the banquet chamber, and that many of Akeela's men had gathered there, too. Akeela walked with eager strides as the guards led them down a flight of stairs, then into another hall, wide and tall. The hall was decorated with flowers, and as they neared the banquet room the strains of music reached their ears. Lukien could see Trager and Breck waiting for them just outside the banquet room. Breck wore a grin while Trager was unreadable, but both had dressed for the evening, sporting long capes trimmed with wolf fur. They looked fit, fine examples of Lürian excellence, and Lukien was proud of them. They bowed to Akeela as he approached.

'How's it look in there?" Lukien asked Breck, peering over his lieutenant's shoulder. The chamber was crowded with people and pipe smoke.

'You should see the feast they've laid out for us," Breck replied. He was a big man who loved food, and his appetite shone in his eyes.

'King Karis is already inside, waiting for you, my lord," Trager told Akeela.

Akeela nodded. "Go on, all of you, go first."

With a shooing gesture he ushered Trager and Breck into the banquet chamber, then asked the Reecians to proceed. Akeela steadied himself with a breath. Then, with Lukien at his side, he Pepped into the tumult of the banquet. Instantly, every head in the chamber turned toward him, and the music grew. A crescendo of applause erupted and the Reecians banged the long banquet tables with their metal tankards and cheered for the for eign king. Servants with platters in their hands stopped in midservice to gape, and the children of the castle nobles, who had been carefully outfitted in royal finery, pointed and giggled. At the end of the vast chamber, at a raised table against the far wall, King Karis stood and joined the applause. There was a huge goblet in his meaty fist and his beard parted in laughter. Around him were Earl Linuk and a dozen other nobles, while at a table to his left sat a group of lovely women all sharing a striking resemblance. These, Lukien guessed, were Karis' daughters. He had heard that they were very beautiful, and now he saw the rumors were true. Each wore a long velvet dress and twinkling jewelry, and each had a husband or suitor seated beside her. As Akeela moved into the center of the room, his Royal Chargers, who had already gathered for the feast, gave a large round of cheers, drowning out even the whistling children. The hero's welcome made Akeela flush. The young king gave a humble smile as he approached the table where Karis waited, two empty chairs directly on his right.

Akeela thanked the crowds, trying to speak over the clamor, gesturing for quiet. But there was too much exuberance in the room for that, so he simply made his way to the head table with Lukien. There, with everyone watching, he and King Karis embraced. It was a light embrace, more like a hand- j shake, but the peck the Reecian gave Akeela's cheek told Lukien it was sincere.

'A great day!" said Karis over the din. "And now, a great night to celebrate!"

Akeela swept an arm over the room, moved by the celebration. "This is wonderful, my lord," he said.

"I'm grateful."

'It's well deserved," replied Karis. "All Reec should celebrate tonight. Now sit, my new friend, and enjoy yourself. Tonight is for getting drunk."

Akeela sat down next to the king, then Lukien took his own seat beside Akeela. Trager and Breck, who had been waiting for them beside the table, sat down next to Lukien. A pretty serving girl offered him some ale. Lukien held out his goblet, giving her a wink. Trager noticed the flirting and shook his head with disgust.

'What?" asked Lukien.

Trager scowled. "Why would you pretend to want one of these Reecian she-wolves, Captain?" he asked, careful that Akeela did t hear him. "Once she got you in bed she'd emasculate you with her no

teeth."

'Sure," Lukien scoffed. "And how would you know that? Has a Reecian wench gotten to your stones, Trager?"

'They're our enemies," said Trager simply. "Piss-filled bags of misery, the lot of them. You of all people should know that, Captain."

'Times are changing, Trager," said Lukien simply. "Have some ale."

The lieutenant folded his arms over his chest. "I won't drink with these swine."

'Suit yourself."

Turning his attention toward the floor, Lukien noticed a clearing between tables. The space just in front of their own table had been left bare, but an instant later an acrobat tumbled into it. As the crowd laughed and clapped, the man somersaulted backwards, landing on his feet again and again. A juggler joined him, then a violinist, and soon the floor was full of entertainers. Lukien settled back to enjoy the show.

From a tiny alcove just beyond the banquet room, Cassandra peered out from behind a velvet curtain, breathless with anticipation. In a moment the soft music would start and her father would call her forth.

Cassandra smiled inwardly. She was a fine dancer, and the dress Jancis had made her was tight in all the right places. Even if Akeela was accustomed to beautiful women, she knew she could seduce him. Men were like that when she danced, so pliable, even the hardest of them. Next to her, Jancis was smiling mischievously, enjoying the excitement. From their place in the alcove they could barely see Akeela past the crowds, catching only glimpses of him and his bodyguard, the Bronze Knight. The Lürian king was drinking and laughing. He had dark hair, not unlike Cassandra's own, and his smile was blinding.

Cassandra thought him handsome. Not stunningly handsome, but serviceably so, and that heartened her.

She had heard too stories of duchesses married to beastly brutes, who did room had quieted. The violinists drew their bows across their strings, readying themselves.

'King Akeela, I have a special treat for you now," said Karis. "The sweetest date in my orchard—my daughter, Cassandra."

'Daughter?" said Akeela. With his chin he gestured to the nearby table. "Aren't those your daughters?"

'They are. But there is one you haven't met yet." The monarch's face glowed with pride. "She is the most special thing I have, King Akeela. Now she will dance for you."

Before Akeela could reply, Karis clapped his hands loudly. The violinists began to play, drawing out a soft melody. The lute player joined them, plucking slowly on his strings, and the music they made was beautiful. Lukien felt suddenly calmed. Like candlelight, the music bathed him. Even Trager was pacified.

The glower on the lieutenant's face melted away, replaced by a blank-ness. Akeela looked around the chamber, wondering where this prize daughter was hiding. Then, from behind a velvet curtain, she emerged.

Gliding into the center of the chamber came a lithe and delicate figure with raven-black hair and a twirling dress of green and crimson. She floated, barely grazing the floor in her passage, her face lightly flushed, her dark eyes lustrous. Lukien slowly lowered his goblet, his eyes narrowing. She was a vision.

Perfect in every way. The folds of her dress wrapped around her flawless figure, showcasing her hips and perfect breasts, and as she spun slowly toward them her hair twirled in seductive ribbons about her face.

The music drew her nearer, filling the room, and every eye watched her, admiring her grace. Lukien glanced over at Akeela and saw his king mesmerized. He too had lowered his goblet, and now was clutching the arms of his chair, entranced by the lovely girl.

'Cassandra," Karis whispered. "My youngest daughter."

Akeela nodded dumbly. "Cassandra."

The music grew. The dancer drifted closer. As the rhythm quickened so did she, her movements bewitching. Soon other instruments joined the song, another lute and a flute player. Cassandra tossed her body into the music, twirling and falling and throwing back her head as though an unseen lover caressed her.

nothing but breed them for sons. From the little she knew of the Lürian, he didn't seem that type at all.

And, to Cassandra's great surprise, neither did his knight.

Lukien of Lüria was easily the more handsome of the pair. He was tall and lean, with the look of a wolf about his sharp face, and his hair was honey-colored, making him seem less threatening than Cassandra had imagined. Like everyone in Reec, she knew the stories of the legendary knight. On this side of the river Kryss, they were evil tales. Yet as she spied him from behind her curtain, Lukien didn't look evil. He looked remarkably tame.

'Look," Jancis whispered, pointing toward the head table. "The tumblers are leaving."

As the entertainers left the floor, Cassandra finally got an unobstructed look at her husband…

No, she corrected herself. Not her husband. Not yet. He would have to accept her first, and for that she needed to be perfect. How many women had Akeela been with, she wondered? And she, still a virgin, had to seduce him. The challenge made her pulse race.

'God's death, what's taking Father so long?" she muttered. "Easy," bade Jancis. "The musicians are coming, see?" Cassandra craned around the curtain and saw the violinists moving toward the floor. When they made their soft music, her father would call her out. She closed her eyes, summoning her skill, and waited for his call.

JL,'ukien watched with interest as the acrobats cleared the floor. He had been enjoying their antics, and they gave the Reecians in the room something other than him to stare at. A group of musicians were taking the floor, a lute player and a pair of violinists. The lute player tested his instrument, plucking off a string of gentle notes. The sight of them made the knight groan.

'Oh, no," he muttered softly, prepared to be bored.

Next to him, Akeela still had a smile plastered on his face. He was talking to King Karis, but when the musicians came forward their conversation abruptly stopped. Karis seemed distracted.

'More music, my lord?" Akeela asked him. Strangely, the Lukien swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes from the girl. She radiated beauty, and her seductive turns made his blood race. She was very near their table now. Lifting her face toward them, she gave Akeela the slightest smile. The gesture made the young king swoon. He tilted toward Lukien slightly, whispering in a starstruck voice, "Look at her. She's beautiful."

Lukien nodded. In that moment, Cassandra of Reec was the fairest thing he had ever seen. Her seductive movements touched something primal in him, something dark and carnal. And, to his surprise, something gentle stirred within him too, longing for the love of a woman. He sank back in his chair, and suddenly he was on the streets of Koth again. Alone and afraid, he could never hope for a woman like this. Princesses were the purvey of princes. Lukien picked up his drink and sipped at it distractedly. He had bedded beautiful women before, but never a royal one. Close as he was to Akeela, he was still kept from such finery.

'Oh, she's lovely," said Akeela. This time, he was speaking to Karis. "Such a fine dancer, my lord."

'My daughter dances constantly," said Karis. "It is a gift she has." He gave his guest a curious look.

"You like her?"

'Like her? She's a treasure. Your daughter—all your daughters really—are lovely."

Karis moved in closer. "Ah, but Cassandra is the fairest of them all, don't you think?"

'She's splendid," agreed Akeela, then said no more, concentrating instead on the dancer and letting the world fall away around him.

Cassandra danced until sweat fell from her brow and her long hair straggled across her face. She twirled and twirled without end, and when the music finally climaxed she collapsed to the floor in a dramatic finish, tossing back her head and panting, a giant smile on her face. Her eyes locked with Akeela's as the room came alive with applause. Akeela's gaze lingered on her. Lukien sighed breathlessly.

'Beautiful," he whispered.

Akeela rose to his feet. "Beautiful!" he echoed, clapping for the girl. His approval made Cassandra glow. Still on her knees, she tilted her head to the Lürian king.

'Thank you, my lord," she said. Out of breath, her voice was soft as a breeze.

'Rise, daughter," said Karis.

Cassandra did as her father commanded, getting to her feet. She did not look away from them as Lukien expected, but rather faced them head on, still looking at Akeela. Then, oddly, her eyes flicked toward Lukien for a moment. The gesture startled Lukien and it was he that looked away, but by the time he looked back her gaze had returned to Akeela.

'You are a very fine dancer, Princess," said Akeela. "The finest I've ever seen, I'd say. Wouldn't you agree, Lukien?"

Lukien said, "I would, my lord."

'Good!" said Karis. "Then you will be pleased with what I have to tell you. Sit, my lord, please."

They all returned to their chairs, and while Cassandra stood before them, Karis picked up a pitcher of ale and began refilling Akeela's goblet. Akeela put up a hand to stop the king.

'No, no more for me yet, my lord."

'Oh, but we may have something to toast, I think, King Akeela," said Karis. He filled the goblet to the brim, then sat back. A pensive expression crossed his face.

'My lord?" Akeela probed. "What is it?"

'King Akeela," began Karis, "you have given all of us a great gift. You have brought gold to us and the goodwill of your people, and have given us the river Kryss to use as our own. Most of all you have brought us peace, a thing I had never expected to see in my lifetime."

Akeela shifted, embarrassed by the praise. "Thank you, my lord."

'You are remarkable, King Akeela. For such a young man, you very wise. So different from your father."

'Please, my lord…"

. let me say this," Karis interrupted. His face was grave.

lever met your father, not even on the battlefield. But I know i my advisors that he was a brutal warrior and a hater of • and I think it's extraordinary that a man like that could - such a wise-hearted son.

You are remarkable, King Akeela,

THE EYES OE GOD The questions shocked Lukien. Was Akeela actually consider-. offer? He tne

kept his hand on Akeela's shoulder, giving it a autionary squeeze. Surprisingly, Akeela shook it off.

'My father is very wise," said Cassandra. "And I don't object to his offer. If you will have me, King Akeela, I'll be your queen."

Akeela grinned. "Very well, then. I will think on it. Thank you, Princess. And thank you for your beautiful dance."

Cassandra curtsied and dismissed herself, disappearing back behind the curtain. Akeela watched her go, admiring her all the way. Once again Lukien put his lips to the young man's ear.

'Steady," he whispered. "She's just a girl."

Akeela shook his head. "Not just a girl, Lukien. Perhaps the girl."

'You've had too much ale," said Lukien. The music had started again, and the servants went back to work, delivering steaming platters of bread and meat. Akeela's eyes lingered on the velvet curtain. Lukien sighed. "Fate above," he muttered. "What have we gotten into?"

If Akeela heard him, he didn't show it.

and I have almost nothing of equal value to match the gifts you have given me."

'I ask for nothing in return, my lord Karis," said Akeela. "Just the chance to rule Lüria in peace."

Karis nodded. "I believe that. I know you want nothing from us but peace. And to seal that peace, I offer you the greatest thing I possess, something that means more to me than anything." He pointed at the waiting Cassandra. "I give you a queen. M* daughter, Cassandra."

Akeela's ubiquitous smile faded. "How's that?" "A wife, King Akeela. To seal the peace between us."

Lukien was stunned. Akeela looked at him for an explanation but the knight merely shrugged. Before them, Cassandra wore ' confident smile.

'A wife?" blurted Akeela. "For me?"

'You are surprised, I know," Karis admitted. "But you are! young, and unaware of how we do things in Reec. Peace is made in such ways, my lord." "Yes, but…"

'She is the greatest gift I can give you," said Karis. "And if I you accept her, she will please you. She will give you children as I beautiful as herself, and a link to Reec, so that we will never war I again. Isn't that what you want, my lord? Peace?"

Unable to speak, Akeela looked at Cassandra. She was still breathing hard from her dance but met his gaze head-on. Akeela chewed his lower lip, overwhelmed by the offer. Lukien put a hand on his shoulder.

'It is a great gift, my king," he said diplomatically. "But a surprising one. And surely you will need time to think on it." "Yes," agreed Akeela quickly. "Time to think on it, consider i things."

'Of course," said Karis. There was a trace of disappointment in his voice. "Such a union shouldn't be entered lightly, and while you're my guest you can think on it."

'It really is a great gift, King Karis," said Akeela. "Truly, I am humbled. But what does your daughter think of this, I wonder?" He turned toward Cassandra. "Princess Cassandra? Do you agree to your father's proposal?"

I H'sBeith recognized fear easily. It always stared back at her from mirrors.

'All right, breathe now," directed Gwena. She nodded, satisfied with Beith's effort. "Not much longer."

'You keep saying that," gasped Beith. "For god's sake, how much more?"

'Not much more."

'Argh!"

'Be easy, girl," said Gwena. She had a towel in her hand that had once been white but was now stained with blood. The sight of it made Beith queasy and she looked away, back toward the window.

The hard rain frightened her—she wished it would stop. She wished the baby would come out and stop torturing her, and she wished that her husband were with her, but he was dead. Meri kept squeezing her hand, but Beith felt profoundly alone. She had no one else now that Gilwyn was gone, and she wondered if King Akeela would let her remain in the castle. Her child was being born fatherless, and that was the greatest pain of all.

'Damn it!" she cried.

Old Gwena ignored the outburst. She had been the castle's midwife for years and had heard far worse from her charges, even from the royal ladies she tended. Beith wasn't royal but she could swear like a devil, and as a contraction seized her she let out a string of curses. Her emotions were galloping in all directions. Gilwyn's face came to her every time she closed her eyes. He had been a good man and had died too young, and some were saying his death had sparked Akeela into talking peace with the Reecians. He had been one of Lukien's best. Lukien himself had brought her the terrible news, which had shattered the pregnant Beith and drove her to depression. But Akeela had promised her she could remain in the castle, and Akeela was a good man, wasn't he?

'I don't know," moaned Beith, tossing her head back. She felt -lirious, and didn't care what she said or who heard her.

'Beith, stop now," said Meri. Her friend wiped her face, blot-ung up the perspiration. "You'll be all right. It's all going well, nght Gwena?"

'It's going perfectly," said the old woman. "This child's N, ght fell on Koth with a hammer-blow of rain. Wind from a summer squall shook the panes of glass in the single window of a tiny bedroom. And Beith Toms, in her thirteenth hour of labor, turned her eyes toward the storm outside and began to sob.

'Easy, now," said the midwife, Gwena. The old woman's hands touched Beith's thighs, massaging the aching muscles. Next to her, Beith's friend Meri squeezed her hand, so hard that Beith thought her fingers would crack. But that pain was nothing compared to the agony inside her. Beith choked back her tears and concentrated on Meri's earnest face and the rain pelting hei window.

'Oh, yes," said Gwena. The old woman was peering betweei Beith's legs as if looking at something fascinating. "Not mud longer, girl. Push now!"

'I can't!" groaned Beith.

'Yes, you can. Do it now. Not much more."

Beith shut her eyes and tried to expel her infant, wailing with the effort. For thirteen hours she had been like this, first losing her water, then crying for Meri and Gwena while the contractions overtook her body. Eventually, they had come like the storm, quickly and with unexpected fury. Beith bit down hard as she gave the infant another push. Sweat fell from her face. Meri put a cool cloth to her forehead, wiping away the perspiration. Her friend was smiling, but Beith could tell she was afraid. These sliding out smoother than the devil in velvet trousers. It hurts, I know, but this is nothing. I brought King Akeela into the world, you know, and if there was ever a child that didn't want to come out, it was him. Twenty hours of sheer agony…"

'Gwena!" snapped Meri. "Watch what you're saying!"

For the first time in hours, Beith laughed.

'Don't laugh, breathe!" the midwife commanded. Once again she tucked down to inspect the birth.

Beith could see the top of her head bobbing. "Yes, it's good. You're doing well, child. That's it, now.

Keep helping it along."

Beith strained to breathe the way Gwena had taught her. She saw a flash of lightning outside the window, then felt the room shake with thunder. Outside, the rain had smothered the moon and stars, so that only torchlight lit the chamber. She could smell her own foulness, the stench of blood and sweat and effort. Every breath was laborious.

'I want a boy," she gasped. "You hear, Gwena?"

The midwife scoffed. "That's not what I do."

'A boy," Beith insisted. "So I can name him after his father."!

'And if it's a girl?" asked Meri.

'It won't be a girl," snapped Beith. "God owes me. He's taken'. everything else from me. The least He can do me is this favor!"

Another contraction came. Beith gasped, feeling her birth! canal move within her and the awful pain of the insistent child. She clutched at the stained sheets, gritting her teeth.

'All right now, this is it," said Gwena. She put her hands between Beith's legs. "Give me another push, girl. One more big one."

Beith clamped down on her pain, banishing it from her mind. As thunder crashed outside the tower she let out a determined cry, focusing on expelling the child from her womb. The pain was enormous, and the simples Gwena had given her had done little to ease her suffering. Now it had all come down to this final, monumental effort. But she was nearly done now and she knew it, and that gave Beith strength.

With all her waning energy, she pushed.

'Yes!" urged Gwena. "Yes, yes!"

It will be a boy, Beith told herself. And he'll be handsome and irons Me his father, and he'll be a great knight for Akeela. He will be!

Even through the pain, a little smile curled the girl's lips. There would be some reward for her loss, after all. When this was done she would have a wonderful little child. Beith kept her eyes closed and summoned the image of her husband. She had loved Gilwyn Toms with all her heart, and now she would pass that love to their offspring.

'There's its head," said Gwena. "You're doing perfectly, girl. Keep it up now."

'It's coming, Beith," said Meri. She peered over Beith's belly and let out a delighted yelp. "I can see it!"

The last moments were hellish. Beith held her breath, using all the air in her lungs to expel the baby, and as it slipped out of her, inch by torturous inch, the final contraction came.

'Oh, lord," Beith wheezed. "Come on, please!"

Heaven heard her prayer. The baby that had racked her body dropped out in a sudden burst, right into the waiting hands of Gwena. The pain slackened, and Beith's body seemed to shrink, sore but wonderfully lighter.

'Beith, you did it!" cried Meri. The girl was staring at the infant, her eyes wide with wonder.

'I did it," Beith sighed. Suddenly she laughed. "I have a baby!"

Gwena's next words were like a miracle. "It's a boy, Beith. A beautiful boy."

'A boy?" Beith struggled to sit up. "A boy!"

Gwena lifted the baby toward Meri. "Take the child," she ordered. Meri stepped to the foot of the bed, then Gwena set to work tying off the umbilical cord. The exhausted Beith caught her first glimpse of her infant. Smothered with afterbirth, he was nonetheless astonishing. As Gwena clamped and severed the ord, Meri held the child carefully, wiping away its slick coat and :oomg to it gently. When the cord was cut, Gwena took the baby quickly tapped its bottom until the smallest noise issued from it—its first astounding cries.

Beith brushed the sweat-soaked strands of hair from her • The crying infant mesmerized her, cradled in old Gwena's capable arms. The midwife's proud smile lit the room. "Ah, look at you, little soldier," she sighed. "How many is this for me now? You are my hundreth, at least!"

'Let me hold him," Beith implored. "Please."

Gwena was about to bring the child around to Beith when suddenly her expression dimmed. Her eyes narrowed on the infant, studying him. Beith's heart tripped.

'What?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

Gwena didn't answer. She picked up the baby's tiny hand, cocking her head as she inspected it.

'Gwena, what is it?" Beith demanded. "What's the matter?"

'I don't know," replied the midwife. She brought the baby closer to its mother. "Look at his hand."

Beith leaned forward, focusing on the boy's little appendage. At first she could see nothing wrong, it was so tiny. But looking closer revealed an oddity in its fingers. The thumb was strangely close to the index finger, and both seemed shorter than normal. Beith reached out for the little hand. Studying it, she discovered that the thumb and finger were fused together.

'Oh…"

Baby Gilwyn, as he had already been named, began to cry again.

'His foot, too," said Gwena. She looked worried, even pale. "It's the same."

Beith looked and found that his left foot was indeed the same, slightly clubbed and curled into a ball.

The two smallest toes were together, merged by shared flesh. Beith felt her world collapse, and suddenly a dire future flashed before her eyes for the child she had birthed. In Lüria, as everywhere on the continent, cripples were usually beggars.

'Oh no," said Beith. "Please…"

'Beith, don't worry," said Meri quickly. "He's newly born. I'm sure it's nothing." She looked at Gwena for support. "Right?"

The midwife grimaced. "I don't know," she said softly. "I don't know what it means. Maybe—"

Abruptly she stopped herself. Beith looked up instantly.

'What?"

Gwena glanced down at the child and sighed. "It may not just be his foot and hand. It could be worse than that."

'What? What could be worse?"

'Beith," said Gwena gently. "It could be his brain. He may not be… normal."

'Don't say that!" railed Beith. "Don't you dare say that!"

'I've seen it before, girl. Sometimes a deformed child has other problems, problems with his mind.

Your little one here could be like that."

'He isn't!" snapped Beith. She sat bolt up, ignoring her nakedness and the filth of the bed. "Gilwyn's fine," she insisted. "He's going to be a Royal Charger, like his father. He's…"

Her voice constricted and she couldn't speak. Withered and drained, she reached out for her child.

Gwena handed him over carefully. Beith took him in her arms, holding him close to her breast. She smiled at the child. He was so beautiful, even with his clubbed hand and foot. But she worried, too. What life could there be for a crippled boy? She had seen them in the streets, how they begged for food because they couldn't work or support themselves. Her little boy—her new Gilwyn—might become a wastrel.

'No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I won't let that happen to you."

'Beith, give me the child," said Gwena. She reached out for the infant but Beith pulled him away.

'I want to hold him," said Beith.

'He needs to be cleaned," said Gwena. "He's filthy, and so are you. Give him here. Let me wash him.

I'll bring him right back. Meri, clean up Beith, will you?"

Beith agreed, reluctantly, and handed her newborn over to Gwena. She was exhausted and her body ached; even talking was a chore. Gwena took the child in a clean wrap and left the room. Beith leaned back, not caring how soiled the sheets were.

i began dipping towels into a basin of water and dabbing the |bric between her thighs, cleaning off the worst of the after-'th. It might have been embarrassing, but Beith was a thousand miles away, fretting over her infant's fate.

'Don't worry, Beith," said Meri as she worked. "You need to rest. Gwena will see to the baby. You should try to sleep."

Sleep. It sounded wonderful to Beith, but she was sure her slumber would be filled with nightmares.

'Meri?"

'Yes?"

'What if Gwena's right? What if the baby isn't normal?"

Meri smiled, trying to cover up what she really felt. "We don't know that."

'But his hand, and his foot. They're…" Beith could hardly bring herself to say the word deformed.

"What if his brain is like that too?"

'Beith, he's too young. No one can tell by looking at him, not even Gwena."

'But if he is? What then?"

'Then you will raise him, and you will love him as if nothing is amiss. He's your son, Beith."

Beith nodded. Already she loved little Gilwyn, and he wasn't yet an hour old. But love couldn't move mountains as the poets said, and she couldn't save him from the cruelty of the world. If her child was simple, only the king's grace could help him.

'Akeela is a good man," she told herself. "He will have a place for Gilwyn in the castle. I know he will." She glanced at Meri. "Right?"

Meri wrung a dirtied towel into the basin. Her face was serious. "Akeela is a good man, that's what everyone says. He was a good prince, and he'll be a good king."

'Yes," agreed Beith. "Even if Gilwyn can't be a soldier, Akeela will find a place for him, don't you think?"

'Beith, close your eyes now. Rest."

Beith knew she'd get no answer from her friend. Succumbing to her exhaustion, she closed her eyes and let Meri freshen and comfort her, wondering what would become of her son in the world the new king of Lüria was making.

'I hree days after coming to Hes, Akeela had made his decision.

It was a warm day in the Reecian capital, perfect for proposing marriage. The marketplace on the south side of the castle was teeming with people and livestock, and the streets were filled with children and cats, which to Lukien's surprise were everywhere in Hes. The sky was perfect, blue and cloudless, and the rains that had soaked the city the day before had utterly vanished. Over the balcony, Lukien could see Hes stretching out for miles. He could see the city gates and the long, winding road that would eventually lead him home to Lüria. Lukien gazed at the eastern horizon, longing for home. For Akeela, their trip to Hes had been a complete success, but for Lukien it had been surreal. Things had moved too quickly, and too many decisions had been made. Decisions, Lukien believed, that Akeela had made hastily.

Together they waited on the balcony for Princess Cassandra. It was a meeting King Karis himself had arranged, and they were very early. Even if she were on time, Cassandra wouldn't arrive for another half hour. But Akeela had wanted Lukien to come to the balcony with him, because the young king was nervous. He had also claimed the need to explain his bold decision. Yet now that they were together, Akeela wasn't talking. Like Lukien, he stared out over the city, lost in thought.

Lukien didn't blame Akeela for wanting to marry Cassandra. She was beautiful, after all, and Akeela himself was less than not like you. I'm not tall or handsome, and I'm certainly o hero. You've always had r

your pick of women, while I'm still ,'/ •a Akeela hesitated, and Lukien was glad that he didn't say the word.

'It takes more than a strong jaw to win the love ol a woman,

Akeela," said Lukien. "You think I'm some great lover because I tell tales about the harlots I've been with, but I'm just a braggart. And I leave out the sordid bits, like all the lice-ridden beds I've slept in."

'So?"

'So you can have any woman you want. Not some whore, either, but a good woman, one with breeding."

Akeela laughed. "One like Cassandra, you mean?"

'No, not like Cassandra. Someone you love. And someone who loves you. Haven't you wondered why the princess wants to marry you?"

'I know why," argued Akeela. "For peace."

'No," said Lukien ruthlessly. "Because she is a woman and her father wills it, that's why. And because she has the chance to be a queen. She doesn't love you, Akeela."

'Lukien, this is how royal marriages are arranged," said Akeela. "If my father were alive, he would have made a marriage for me by now anyway, and probably to someone far less beautiful than Cassandra. He would have given me Dralla of Marn or some other girl that looks like a warthog, because he was too stubborn to consider peace with Reec. But why should I be saddled with a girl like Dralla? Why shouldn't I have Cassandra?"

Lukien groped for a good reason. Cassandra's beauty wasn't something to be argued over—it was a fact, like the beauty of a sunrise. And it had captivated Lukien just as it had Akeela. Maybe that was why he was opposed to the marriage. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been jealous of his royal "brother," a brother in small talk only.

'Can't you at least wait?" said Lukien. "Just a little longer? Let's go back to Lüria. Maybe the familiar air will clear your head."

'There's no reason to wait. I'm not going to find a prettier beautiful. What Lukien hated—what he had protested for days-was the suddenness of it all. Cassandra had merely danced, and her movements had bewitched Akeela so that he had forgotten all propriety. He didn't know that there were many women in the world, and that as king he could have his pick of them. Or, if he knew this, he simply didn't care.

Lukien stole a glance at his king, watching him furtively. Akeela was young, and woefully inexperienced.

He had spent too much time with his nose in books and not enough chasing kitchen maids, and Lukien regretted that. He was angry that old King Balak hadn't insisted his son become a soldier after graduating war college. If he had joined in at least some campaigns, then perhaps he would have known what it was like to be with a woman, and he wouldn't be so enamored of the first one to flutter her eyelashes at him.

But no, that wasn't right, either. Lukien knew he couldn't blame Balak for Akeela's lovesickness.

Balak had been a good father, wise enough not to push his bookish son into a military life. And that wisdom had paid off handsomely for Lüria, because her new king was cultured and committed to peace.

That he was starry-eyed was simply an offshoot of his goodness, the very thing that made him special.

Lukien sighed, shaking his head. Akeela heard the lament and glanced over at him.

'What's wrong?" he asked.

'Nothing is wrong," lied Lukien. "I was merely thinking."

'Thinking about me?"

Lukien nodded. "That's right. You've given me little else to think about these past three days."

The young king crossed the balcony to stand beside his champion. It was a huge balcony, just off a conservatory decorated with tall plants and cracked plaster statues. Several bird cages hung nearby, their occupants serenading the two men. The balcony afforded them a flawless view of the city, but Akeela had lost interest in the view.

'I know you don't approve," he said. "But at least try to understand."

'I have tried. And I still can't understand."

'Then you haven't tried hard enough," said Akeela. He was agitated; his left eyelid twitched slightly.

"Look at me, Lukien.

girl, or a better reason to marry. And it would be an insult to King Karis to refuse her. I won't jeopardize the peace like that."

'That's rubbish, Akeela. Karis wants peace as much as you do. More, even. That's not why you want to marry Cassandra."

Akeela looked at him, surprised at the outburst. "I thought you would be happy for me," he said.

"You of all people know how lonely I've been. Why would you keep this from me, my one chance at a beautiful wife?"

'I…" Lukien stumbled over his answer. "I am happy for you, Akeela. I'm just worried."

'Well, don't be. I'm a grown man, Lukien, and I don't need you to protect me anymore." Akeela turned and looked out over the city. His hands gripped the stone railing of the balcony hard, turning his knuckles white. "I think I'd like to be alone now," he said.

'I can stay with you," said Lukien. "She won't be here for a while yet."

'Yes, but I need time to think, to consider what I'm going to say."

'What's to consider?" said Lukien. "She's been offered to you, and all you have to do is take her."

'Oh, yes, that's very romantic," replied Akeela dryly. "Look, don't try to help me with this, all right?

Just let me think."

Lukien turned to go, angry at being dismissed. But before he took three paces, Akeela called after him.

'Wait, I forgot something." He wore a sheepish grin. "A favor, actually."

Lukien scowled. "What?"

'If Cassandra accepts my proposal, I'm going to be leaving for home at once. I want to prepare the castle for the wedding, and I won't be taking her with me."

'So?"

'I'll need someone to look after her, someone to escort her back to Koth for me." Akeela's eyes twinkled as if nothing had just happened. "Would you do that for me?"

The question astonished Lukien. A little voice warned him to refuse, but instead he said, "If that's what you want…"

'Yes," said Akeela. "You're the only person I trust. Who better to look after her than you?"

Lukien hedged, saying, "She may not like my company. To her I'm still the Bronze Knight."

'Don't worry about that; I'll explain it to her. I want her to have the best, and you're the best soldier I have. You'll protect her, I know." Akeela's smile was all-forgiving—and terribly naive. "Thank you, Lukien. You're a good friend."

Friend. Were they friends, Lukien wondered? At times like this, when Akeela was his most petulant, it was hard to believe they truly loved each other. Giving his king a half-hearted nod, Lukien turned and left the balcony, hoping Princess Cassandra refused her royal escort.

Cassandra moved through the hallways of Castle Hes, floating with anticipation. It was nearly time for her meeting with Akeela, and Jancis had told her that the Lürian was already on the eastern balcony, waiting for her. Because the balcony was very large and studded with statues, Jancis had been able to spy on Akeela quite effectively. Apparently, he had been waiting for her for some time now, first talking with his bodyguard Lukien, then pacing nervously among the statues. According to Jancis, he had even been talking to himself. Cassandra slowed her pace as she neared the balcony, taking the time to smooth down her dress and adjust the braids in her hair. She wore a velvet gown of midnight blue and just the right amount of make-up to highlight her eyes, and she already knew from the way the young king had stared at her that he was attracted to her. He had done a very poor job of hiding his attraction, in fact, but Cassandra was flattered. Soon she might be leaving Hes behind. She would be the first of her sisters to become a queen.

Queen Cassandra. Cassandra tried the title on and liked the way it fit. And she had a thousand questions for the Lürian king. She wanted to know everything about Lüria, about its people and customs, and she wanted to know what her new home, Akeela's castle, was like. Was it tall, she wondered? She had heard everything in Lüria was tall, so much the opposite of squat and stubby Cassandra, and his spotless tunic shimmered with golden trim. For the first time, she got an uninterrupted view of him. She lingered near the birdcage, watching him. A curious canary inside the cage hopped onto a branch beside her face and studied her, then let out a surprisingly loud song. Cassandra stepped back from the cage, startled, just as Akeela heard the commotion and turned around. Their eyes met. Cassandra smiled sheepishly.

'Umm, hello," she said.

Akeela stood motionless. For a moment he seemed not to recognize her, but then he righted himself by stepping forward, and said, "Princess Cassandra, hello. I… uh, you startled me."

His voice was very light, nervous but melodious. With his sweating forehead and shaking voice, Cassandra thought him sweet-looking.

'Forgive me, my lord," she offered. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

'Frightened? Oh, no, I wasn't frightened—not at all. The bird surprised me, that's all."

The bird continued to sing. Cassandra moved away from the cage, going to the balcony to stand before Akeela. She noticed with satisfaction the way his eyes moved along her body. She took the opportunity to study him as well. He was shorter than he'd seemed at the banquet table, about her height, and despite his fine clothes he didn't look like a king at all. In fact, he could have easily passed for a squire. His unimposing appearance made her comfortable at once.

'My father said you wanted to speak to me," said Cassandra. She gave him an encouraging smile. "I was happy to come."

'Yes, thank you for that," said Akeela. "I thought it would be best if we could talk alone, without others eavesdropping."

Instantly Cassandra thought of Jancis, wondering if her friend was somewhere in the conservatory, listening. "No one can hear us out here, my lord."

Akeela turned toward the city. "Yes, we are rather high up." He looked over the stone railing, down at the people milling below. "Your father's castle is beautiful, my lady. As is your city."

'I'm pleased you think so, my lord."

Hes. Supposedly, Lürians were great architects. Their culture had influenced much of the eastern continent. Once, Cassandra had considered that a terrible thing. But now she was about to marry a Lürian, and she hoped they were the most powerful, most renowned nation in the world.

Cassandra paused in the middle of the hallway and looked around. Castle Hes wasn't spectacular, but it was home and she would miss it, and the realization startled her. She had been too busy planning her escape to appreciate her home, because for too long the castle had simply been a prison. Under her sisters' shadow and father's watchful eyes, there had been little freedom here. Now, she would be totally independent, or at least subservient only to Akeela.

'What will that be like, I wonder?" she whispered. She ran her hand along the rough stone of the wall, sliding a finger into the joints between bricks. Karla, the maid who looked after the upstairs rooms, rounded the corner and spotted her.

'My lady?" the maid asked, her round face concerned. "Are you all right?"

Cassandra nodded. "I'm fine, Karla. I'm just… thinking."

'Well, there's a lot of that about, my lady." She looked over her shoulder, then whispered, "Your young man's been very pensive, too."

'You mean Akeela?"

'Aye, King Akeela. I spotted him near the conservatory." The maid smiled as if she had a great secret. "He seems lost in thought."

The princess laughed. Was everyone spying on poor Akeela?

'Thank you, Karla," said Cassandra, then hurried past her toward the balcony. The balcony where Akeela waited was at the front of the castle, in the southern tower. In less then a minute Cassandra was there, arriving in the vast, rounded conservatory boasting plants and birds from across the continent. One huge birdcage rose up out of the center of the room, reaching the ceiling. Cassandra stalked toward the birdcage, then peered around it to see out to the balcony. The balcony shutters were all open wide, and she noticed Akeela standing outside, sunlight striking his dark hair. He had dressed for their meeting, which pleased The young man heard the uncertainty in her voice. "Don't you think it's beautiful?"

'Yes," replied Cassandra. "Yes, I do."

'Hmm. I wonder then what you would think of leaving it." Akeela looked at her hopefully. "Am I making myself plain, my lady?"

Cassandra understood perfectly. "Is this a proposal, my lord?"

'Would you accept if it were?"

'I would. But I don't understand why you would ask, when I have already been given to you. It is your choice to accept or decline, not mine."

Akeela said, "I want a wife, not a slave. I want you to enter this marriage willingly, or not at all. I want to hear the words from you."

'Do women decide such things for themselves in Lüria?" asked Cassandra. Because she was a princess, and her father's favorite, he had given her a choice. But that wasn't always the case in Reec.

Her country had a long tradition of bartering women away.

'In Lüria people don't always have choices," said Akeela. "There are barons and dukes that make decisions for them, who decide where they will work and how much wheat they'll produce. It's been that way forever, I think." He came closer to her. "But I'm going to change that, Cassandra."

'Are you? How can you?"

'I'm serious," said Akeela. A strange light came on in his eyes. "I'm going to reform Lüria. I'm going to make it the greatest country on the continent."

Cassandra grinned. "Ah, you want to be a great king."

The Lürian shook his head. "No, that's not it at all. I don't care about myself or what history will think of me. I care about changing things, the entire social order. Why should a woman marry a man she doesn't love? And why should a man work a field his whole life, just because a baron says he should? I'm talking about freedom, Cassandra. The ability to do whatever you want. Do you see?"

It was a difficult concept for Cassandra. What good was freedom without food? Someone had to work the fields. But she was intrigued by the man and his bold ideas, and wanted to hear more.

'How will you do this?" she asked. "How will you make these changes, my lord?"

'It won't be easy. There will be people who oppose me, strong landowners mostly, and old aides of my father who think things should stay the same. There were many who didn't even want me to make this peace with Reec. They said it couldn't be done, but I've proven them wrong. And I will prove them wrong about all my ideas." He rubbed his hands together, satisfied with himself. "I have dreams for Lüria, Cassandra. Great dreams."

She closed the gap, the last few inches separating them. "We all have dreams, Akeela," she said softly. "Tell me yours. What will you do in Lüria?"

Akeela loved being close to her. She could sense it in him. "There is one thing," he said. "My biggest dream of all. My Cathedral of Knowledge."

'Cathedral? You mean a temple?"

'No," laughed Akeela. "That's just what I call it, my Cathedral of Knowledge. I'm talking about a library. The biggest, most extensive library in the world!"

Cassandra frowned, confused. "How will that help Lüria, my lord?"

'Don't you see? It's knowledge that changes things, Cassandra. How many people in Hes can read and write? Not many, I'd bet. Probably half the servants in this castle have never even held a book.

That's just plain wrong; it's keeping them ignorant. They need to be educated. Knowledge gives people power."

The idea was scandalous. "My lord, knowledge is a dangerous thing. If all the commoners had knowledge, what would they need with kings and queens? Such ideas are for the royal, surely."

'Why? Why should you and I and our privileged families be the only ones to read and write? Why can't a farmer become a teacher if he wishes to?"

'Because…" Cassandra fumbled for a reply. "Because it's the way of things, that's why."

Akeela's smile grew sly. "Ah, that's the very thinking I'll have to battle, Princess. The thought that just because things have always been one way, that they won't be better another. But my library can change that. When it's done, it will be filled with books and scrolls from all over the world. Then people will come to Lüria, making pilgrimages to study there. They'll bring more new ideas with them, too, and then there will be knowledge for everyone. And when that happens, all Lürians will have opportunities they can barely imagine!"

Cassandra chuckled, struck by his fantasy. Even if he built his library, there was no way it could have its intended impact. He was just a man, more like a boy really, and his youth had clouded his judgement.

For a moment, Cassandra wondered if she really did want to be queen to Akeela's king. Instead of setting Lüria on a brave new path, he might be herding it toward chaos.

'I think your dream is very grand," said Cassandra. She smiled, not wanting to hurt his feelings but not wanting to encourage him too much, either. He sensed her elusiveness at once.

'I'm not naive, Cassandra," he said. "I know that changing things won't be easy. I'll have a great deal of opposition. But I'd like a queen that can share my dream, at least a little." He stayed close to her, looking into her eyes. "Tell me what you dream," he asked.

The question was too probing for Cassandra. How could she confess her dreams? Compared to Akeela's, her own seemed so greedy. She replied, "I want peace for my people and a good life for myself. That would satisfy me."

'That's it?" pressed Akeela. "Nothing more?"

Cassandra thought for a moment. She decided to confide in him, just a little. "What would you say if I told you I wanted to be free of this place, my lord? How would you feel if you knew I was anxious to see new places?"

'And new people?"

Cassandra gazed out over the city. "Yes," she sighed, brooding over a world that had become too familiar.

'I would say that you and I are not so different," said Akeela. "You see? You were right—everyone has dreams, Cassandra. The people of Lüria have dreams, all of them. I will help them meet those dreams. And as queen you will help me."

'You are going to be a very odd king, my lord," said Cassandra. "I wonder what kind of queen I will make in a land of scholars and wise men."

'A fine one, I'm sure," said Akeela. "Having you for my queen is part of my dream now, Princess.

You'll love Lüria, and my people will adore you. And you'll see—this isn't some delusion. I'm going to build my library, and I'm going to change Lüria forever."

It was a frightening thought, but it was also compelling. Compared to her stagnant life in Castle Hes, with its suffocating walls and tiresome chatter, Cassandra's new life in Lüria might be magical. She would be wife to this good man, and she would be happy.

She hoped.

'I want to be your wife," she said without thinking. "I want to marry you and go to Lüria and be away from Reec forever. And I want to go now, my lord."

Akeela was stunned by her forwardness. "Are you sure? I mean, have you really thought about it?"

'I have thought about little else since your messenger came with your peace offer. I have made my decision, and I know I won't regret it. If you'll have me, I will be your queen."

'Oh, my lady," sighed Akeela. "You've made me very happy. I promise you, you will adore Lüria."

It sounded dreamy, almost too perfect. "Yes," Cassandra agreed. "We can marry as soon as you wish. I'm anxious to see your country."

'Good," said Akeela. "Then I will leave at once and prepare a place for you."

" You'll leave?" asked Cassandra. "But won't I be going with you, my lord?"

'Eventually, of course. But not right away. I have a wedding to plan. I have to ready the castle, send invitations—the list is endless, really. Oh, but don't worry, Princess. It won't take more than a month, I shouldn't think."

Cassandra was crestfallen. "A month? That long?"

'Well, three weeks at least. Then you can come to Lüria, and all the capital will be ready for you. And you'll have a contingent of Royal Chargers with you, my lady." Akeela smiled proudly. "Lukien will be your escort."

The princess' eyebrows went up. "That one? Oh, no, my lord. I don't think that's a good idea."

'Lukien is my best knight, my lady," said Akeela. "He's the only one I trust to protect you."

'We have plenty of soldiers in Hes that can escort me," Cassandra argued. "I don't need your infamous knight to keep me safe."

'I'm sorry, my lady, but it's already arranged," said Akeela firmly. "I'll feel better knowing that Lukien is here, looking after you. And the road can be treacherous for a woman. If there are highwaymen about, Lukien will deal with them. Or worse, there may be garmys on the road. They come out in the wet weather." Cassandra shook her head. "You're not understanding me," she said. "The Bronze Knight is an outlaw here, worse than any highwayman. Worse even than a garmy. He may be a hero in Lüria, but in Reec he is a butcher."

The young king looked wounded. "Princess, Lukien is like a brother to me. He is my brother, really.

My father took him off the streets and raised him as his own. We went to war college together, and we're rarely apart. Forgive me, but if you're going to be my wife, you're going to have to accept him. And I can think of no better way to start then by letting him escort you to Koth."

Her argument lost, Cassandra sank back. Riding with Lukien was inconceivable, but losing Akeela's approbation—that was unthinkable.

'Very well," she conceded. "I'll let your knight take me to Koth, because it's your wish and because I trust your virtue, King Akeela, not his. But I don't want him speaking to me. He may escort me, and that's all."

'My lady…"

'Those are my wishes, my lord," said Cassandra. "Please."

Akeela relented without arguing. "Then that is how it will be," he said. "I'll leave for Koth the day after tomorrow, and will send word when I'm ready to receive you. Until then, Lukien and some others will stay behind in Hes."

Cassandra nodded, hating the idea. "Will I see you again before you go?"

The young king came closer, his eyes jumping. "I'd like that very much," he said. Then, without waiting for an invitation, he kissed her. Cassandra was startled by the gesture but didn't resist. His soft lips brushed her own, and the sensation was sweet, almost too gentle for the kiss of a man. When he was done, he leaned back and smiled at her. "Your father will want us all to get together before I leave," he said. "I will see you then."

'Yes," agreed Cassandra. "All right."

He left without another word, departing the balcony and disappearing through the conservatory.

Cassandra's eyes lingered on him for a long moment, then she turned toward the city and the eastern horizon. Somewhere out there, beyond the city walls of her gilded cage, Lüria beckoned. The old enemy of her people, with all its myth and fantasy. In a month she would finally be there. She would emerge from under her sisters' shadows, the queen of a fabled land. Suddenly she felt like dancing, and turned in a pirouette on the balcony, laughing. When she did the smallest movement caught her eye, something unseen in the conservatory. Cassandra stopped twirling.

'Jancis?" she called. "Is that you?"

There was no answer. Cassandra squinted, sure that someone was watching. She took a step forward, enough to startle the intruder, and for a moment caught a glimpse of Lukien peering at her through the foliage. The Bronze Knight's face was blank, unreadable. When he realized the princess had seen him, he backed away quietly, then turned and left the conservatory.

A chill passed through Cassandra. She thought of pursuing him, but didn't. She thought of telling Akeela about the intrusion, but knew she wouldn't. She simply stared at the place that Lukien had been, enchanted by his strangeness.

another. She was only twenty-four now, still young enough to bear children, but she was cursed, and that was the truth of it.

'Cursed," Aral whispered. "Like me." He picked up his tankard and drank a deep mouthful, enjoying its soothing burn. In a minute the beer was gone. Aral fished into his threadbare trousers and pulled out another coin. Slapping it down loudly on the table, he called for the barman to bring him another. The fat proprietor obliged, eager to keep his only customer drinking, and set a fresh tankard with a foaming head down in front of Aral. He took the coins and, at no extra charge, gave the young man a sympathetic look.

Aral scowled at him.

'Something you want to say to me?"

The barman replied, "I'm sorry about what happened to your newborn."

Aral looked down, ashamed to face the man. "It's the way of the Fate."

The barman sighed. "It's a shame, though. She finally carried this one the whole way. To have it die so suddenly…"

'It's over," snapped Aral. He felt his face redden suddenly, not with rage but with guilt. "There's nothing to be done about it now."

The barman went back to work, leaving Aral sulking at the corner table. Aral watched him suspiciously. He didn't suspect anything, did he? The idea made his heart race. And anyway it was hardly murder. More like a mercy killing, really. For farmers like Aral, having a girl child was disappointment enough, but having a blind one was unthinkable. Just another mouth to feed, and no help tending the crops. Vara, Aral's wife, had insisted that she could be taught to clean house when she got older, but what kind of daughter was that, banging around blindly with a broom? He needed sons. Or at least daughters with open eyes.

Aral picked up his mug and found that his hand was shaking. With his other hand he tried to still it.

'Damn it," he hissed. "Damn everything."

He went back to drinking.

A minute later, the door of the Red Lion opened, letting in an unwelcome gust of wind. On the threshold stood two figures, one A _ral Vale sat alone in the corner of the Red Lion, staring at his reflection in a tankard of ale. It was his third drink, at least, and the liquor embraced him warmly, like a lover. Outside, night had seized the city, suffocating all sound. It was well past midnight, and the inn had lost most of its patrons to sleep. Now it was very quiet, the way Aral needed it. He supposed his wife would be worried about him, but he didn't really care. Presently, Aral Vale cared about very little. He had his ale to keep him company and a gallery of ugly images in his mind, and all he could do was focus on the dreadful reflection in his ale and remember the grievous thing he had done.

Being a farmer wasn't easy. That's what Aral's father had told him. It had been intended as a warning not to leave the family coopery in Marn, but Aral hadn't listened. His father was a drunk and Aral had been anxious to be rid of him, and when he had learned that a parcel of inexpensive land had opened up near Koth, he had snatched the opportunity eagerly. Aral smiled forlornly. It all seemed like a very long time ago. In the intervening years he had married and poured his heart into his little farm, only to have weather and pests eat his profits. He had dreamed of being a landowner, like the Duke of Marn, but his land had given him precious little, mostly calluses. Worse, his wife had been as barren as his farm, giving him one stillborn child after patchwork coat, revealing a curious amulet around her neck. Hanging from a chain of braided gold, the amulet blinked like an monstrous eye, its ruby gemstone twinkling in the firelight. Aral stared at it, mesmerized. His nausea left him immediately, replaced by a sudden warmth. It was the drink, he told himself. Good, soothing ale.

'Yes," said the woman. "It's the drink."

Aral puzzled over her statement. Had he spoken? He hadn't thought so.

'Aral Vale," the woman whispered. "That's your name?"

Aral nodded. Somehow, she knew him.

'Oh, I know a great deal about you, Aral Vale," said the little woman. Aral could barely hear her. Her words were soft, like a breeze, sounding only in his head. He wondered if the barkeep was listening.

Remarkably, the woman answered his query.

'He can't hear us," she said. "I'm talking only to you."

She was talking, yet she wasn't talking. Her lips moved as if by illusion. Aral watched the amulet around her neck. It was pricelessly beautiful. It seemed to pulsate as she spoke, echoing her words. He suddenly felt giddy, completely unafraid. They were an odd looking pair, but he didn't feel threatened by them—not the way he had when he'd first seen them. The woman had a gentle look about her and the man, if that's what he could be called, never said a word.

'Trog doesn't speak," the woman explained. She continued to scrutinize him, her eyes narrowing.

"You have been here a long time, Aral Vale. You were difficult to find. But then, men who are hiding are often difficult to find."

Aral stiffened. "I'm not hiding."

'You have a wife at home who worries over you."

'That's none of your business. I just want to be alone. To think."

The little woman's black eyes flared. "Yes. You have much to think about, don't you?"

Aral's puzzlement grew. He lifted his gaze from the amulet, back toward the stranger's face. Her mute companion brooded over him, his jaw slack, his breathing raspy. Aral noticed the a giant, tall and wide, the other a woman, short as a child. Aral blinked at the sight of them. The woman wore a long coat of patchwork leather, colorful and dramatic. She stood barely four feet tall in her tiny shoes, and her eyes lit the room with cold radiance. The man towered over her, a great brute with a bald head and broken teeth that hung over his slack jaw in an over-bite. Aral had never seen anything like him, or his miniature friend.

Neither, apparently, had the barman. The sight of them made the proprietor drop a glass, sending broken shards skimming across the bar. The little woman took notice of his shock and smiled.

'Oops! Careful now," she chirped.

She had a dazzling smile, unnaturally bright. The many colors of her coat seemed to move around her.

Aral shook his head, sure that the drink had gotten to him. He suddenly felt nauseous. He pushed aside his drink, watching as the tiny woman and her beastly companion entered the inn. The giant stayed a pace behind the woman, his wide shoulders hunched, his broad back slightly curved. The little woman walked lightly toward the back of the inn, near the fire. Of all the empty tables, she chose the one next to Aral.

She and her companion each pulled out chairs and sat down. The barman stared at them. "I… uh… Can I get you something?" The woman looked over at Aral's table and gave him the most disquieting grin.

"We'll have what he's having."

Aral's head continued to swim, yet he could not bring himself to look away from the strangers. The woman was remarkably small, with long white hair and a peculiar face set with elfin features. Two bewitching eyes looked back at him, deep and uncannily black. As the barkeep brought them their drinks, Aral finally managed to pull his gaze free of the pair. He stared down at his drink, hoping the woman wasn't watching, but when he lifted his head again he discovered those mocking eyes, studying him. "What?" he asked defensively. The woman didn't answer. Her monstrous companion hardly stirred.

'Please," Aral said. "Stop staring."

But the woman didn't stop. Instead she casually opened her the big man to stir. The woman held up a hand to keep her companion down.

'No, Trog, it's all right," she said. Her expression lost all its prior grace, and her little mouth curled back in a snarl. "Like I said, I make it my business to know things about the children born around here.

And I know what you did, Aral Vale."

Aral could bear no more. He rose from the table, shoving back his chair so hard that it tumbled over, and headed for the door. He was eager to be away from the bizarre woman, eager to escape her incriminating gaze. Pushing open the door, the night and its cold air swallowed him instantly. He took a deep, cleansing breath, then ran down the abandoned street, fleeing the Red Lion and its freakish patrons.

barkeep across the room absently cleaning glasses with a rag, pretending not to be listening.

'Who are you?" Aral whispered. "How do you know me?"

'It's not important," replied the woman. She sat back and closed her coat, shutting away the amulet and its radiance. Instantly, Aral grew alarmed as reality snapped back into focus. He coughed, shaking his head, sure that the ale had sickened him. The woman was no longer staring. Instead she and her companion sipped their drinks, ignoring him. The woman made small talk, chuckling convivially. Aral loosened his collar. The room was very warm and he felt flushed. He tried to relax and catch his breath.

'Barkeep," called the woman. She banged her tankard on the table. "Another, please."

The proprietor drew another ale and brought it to their table. As he set it down, the woman said to him, "You have a nice place here."

'Thank you," replied the man suspiciously.

'Koth is very nice."

'Yes." He shrugged. "It is nice here."

Aral couldn't help but overhear their strange conversation. He toyed with his drink, pretending not to care.

'Such a tragedy at the castle, though," the woman continued. She spoke too loudly, deliberately raising her voice.

The barkeep frowned. "Tragedy? What would that be?"

'Hadn't you heard? The castle has a new baby. One of the king's servants gave birth just the other evening." The woman shook her head as if it were the saddest thing in the world. "Deformed."

'Is that right? I wouldn't know much about the castle folk." The barkeep laughed. "They don't come in here much! How do you know about it?"

The woman slowly turned toward Aral. "Oh, I make it my business to know such things," she said softly.

The barman shrugged and strode away. Aral swallowed hard under the woman's accusing gaze.

'What are you staring at?" he demanded. His tone finally got ,'Vral walked for an hour more, ignoring the chill and the lateness of the hour. A breeze blew down the avenue, sending bits of rubbish tumbling toward him, and the candles in the windows above had all been snuffed out long ago, lending the street an eerie stillness. In the distance, Akeela's castle rose above the common housing, sending a moonlit shadow over the city. Aral considered the castle. He was sick with himself, sick with what he had done, and he thought about the words of the odd woman in the inn, and how a deformed baby had been born within the castle's walls. An epidemic of bad luck had hit the city, apparently, and he wondered what the parents of the newborn felt. Rage? Enough to drive them to…

'Forget it," he growled. It was done, and he wouldn't torture himself about it. It was time to go home.

He rounded a corner and headed to the south side of the city, where he hoped to catch a carriage home to his farm. He was far too tired to walk the whole way again, and he had just enough money left to pay the fare. Moving quickly, he went the way most familiar to him, heading for the alley that would shorten his time. He was in a bleak part of Koth, where the buildings were close together and smelled of decay. As he reached the alley, the slime-covered walls of the structures rose up around him. He closed his collar around his throat and decided to hurry. The alley With a small nod from his mistress, the giant took hold of Aral, inverting him and plunging him headfirst into the barrel. Cold water rushed down his throat; blackness enveloped him. He screamed, releasing a stream of bubbles. The giant's viselike grip held his legs, driving him again and again against the bottom of the barrel. Aral felt his lungs exploding, then watched an image of his wife flash before him, cradling their newborn daughter.

It was the last thought he had before dying.

was long and narrow and spattered with garbage. The rain barrels along the gutters gurgled with filthy water from the rooftops after last night's downpour. Aral quickened his pace, but before he took another step he saw something up ahead, a shimmering along the left-hand wall. His heart began to pound. Out of the wall, or emerging from its shadow, stepped the woman from the Red Lion. Her patchwork coat writhed around her, changing colors, mimicking the alley. She stepped out into the center of the street, facing Aral, and once again the fractured smile appeared. "You left before we finished our conversation."

Aral panicked. He whirled to dash away, but discovered the monstrous bald man behind him, blocking his path. The behemoth stalked toward him, his arms outstretched. Aral stumbled backward. The woman remained in front of him. Determined to push her aside, he turned and started toward her—until she opened her coat.

The amulet around her neck glowed furiously. Aral's feet stuck to the floor, glued in place by its compelling aura. A strangling terror seized him. He tried to scream but couldn't, and soon the big man was upon him, wrapping his massive arms around his chest and pulling him from the ground. Aral struggled but his attacker was impossibly strong, and his iron grip squeezed the air from Aral's lungs. He lifted Aral effortlessly, hauling him toward one of the rain barrels. The little woman scurried alongside them, looking up at Aral as he squirmed.

'You shouldn't have done it," she said. Her face was set with sad anger. "There was no reason to kill her."

Aral finally found his voice. "I had to!" he screamed. "Please!"

'Had to? An infant?"

'Yes! She was blind! She would have been nothing!"

'She would have been your daughter," snapped the woman.

They had stopped near one of the rain barrels. Aral lay pinned over the giant's shoulder, unable to break free. His terror peaked.

'Don't do it!" he pleaded. "Don't!"

The tiny woman sighed dolefully. "People like you make my work so much harder," she said. "Now you will learn a lesson, Aral Vale. We are all beautiful in ."

Breck's face shone with pride, an emotion reflected by all in their company.

'You're a hero, my lord," said Breck. "It took your father years before anyone called him that, and you've done it in mere months." The cavalryman raised his face to the sun, now almost hidden behind the alabaster structures of Koth. "It's good to be home."

'Home is always the best place," agreed Akeela.

Koth had not yet fully awakened. An hour past dawn, the city was only now rubbing sleep from its eyes. Shopkeepers began opening their doors, dragging tables of linens and other wares into the avenue, and a spring breeze sent the signs of the inns and taverns along Capital Street swinging. Early rising bankers rode in carriages from their posh homes on the west side for the money-lending south district, where the bulk of crucial commerce took place. It was the bankers who had donated the lion's share of gold to Akeela's gift chest. Eager to open new avenues of trade, they were among the new king's most ardent supporters. As Akeela and his men rode into the city, he watched as the carriages and their well heeled occupants stopped to wave at him. Like all of Lüria, they had heard the news of his success in Hes and were overjoyed. Akeela smiled and nodded at them, careful not to seem too boyish. The bankers, his father had always said, couldn't be trusted when the money dried up.

Aside from the carriages and shopkeepers, Capital Street was mostly deserted, affording Akeela's company ample room to maneuver their armored horses and wagons. The street fingered off in all directions, leading to the affluent west side and the squalid northern districts, and, most importantly, to Chancellery Square. There, in the center of the city stood Lionkeep, Akeela's residence. And around the royal castle, circling it like vultures, were the Chancelleries. Here the countless ministers and bureaucrats bickered and bartered and supposedly made Lürian life easier with their logjams. It was where the War Chancellery stood in a stout building of brick and black iron, and where the Chancellery of Treasure towered nearly as tall as Lionkeep itself, an edifice of gold leaf and marble gargoyles. Next to the Treasury stood the House of Dukes, a five-storied fortress of quarried rock and the A .^fter a week of easy travel, Akeela arrived home to Koth.

The capital city of Lüria gleamed like a white diamond at his homecoming, the spring sun setting it alight with the pure glow of morning. It had been an uneventful journey for the young king and his party of Chargers, except for a minor detour forced by the swelling river Kryss. The solitude had given Akeela time to consider things, too, like his peace with Reec and his perfect new wife. For the first time Akeela could remember, his life was flawless. He missed his father, but that emptiness was ebbing fast, filled by the day-to-day burdens of kingship. Now he reveled in his title and in the sweeping changes he intended to make. He had daydreamed throughout his entire journey home, whistling while he rode with his comrade and soldier, Breck, and staring up at the stars at night, looking for Cassandra's face. But he had never really found her in the heavens, because she was more beautiful than that, and no constellation could rival her. He was already lovestruck and he knew it, and despite Lukien's warnings, he planned to give his love to Cassandra completely.

As Akeela approached Koth, his heralds rode forward to the castle, informing them of his arrival. He had a huge staff in Lion-keep, just as his father had before him, because Lüria had interests varied and wide, and there were always civil servants needed to attend the minutiae of government. Akeela sat up in his saddle—as tall as he could—as he entered the city. Beside him, buildings in the distance. "It won't be easy," he sighed. "Even your father had trouble dealing with the Chancellers, and they feared him."

'And they don't fear me," said Akeela. "I know that. But I don't want to rule out of fear, Breck. I want the ministers to follow me willingly, because they believe in where I'll take them." He gave his horse a commanding spur, urging him forward. "Come. I'm eager to get to the castle."

The column rode for long minutes more, filling the echoing streets with the noise of their homecoming.

Windows opened at the sound of the horsemen and the people of Lüria leaned out of their homes, eager for a glimpse of their king. An occasional woman blew Akeela a kiss, which made him blush. Finally, they passed the open-air market and entered Chancellery Square, where the Chancelleries loomed and Lionkeep's shadow darkened the avenues. The streets were narrow and cramped, jammed full of carriages and civil servants rushing to their jobs. At the Chancellery of Treasure a pair of long-robed ministers stopped in mid-argument to notice the king. They bowed with big, inscrutable smiles. Akeela nodded politely but hurried along, urging his horse toward Lionkeep and the hill holding it aloft. The gray wall of the fortress rose up around him, comforting him. He heard the familiar sounds of castle life from the battlements above. The main gate had been raised for his arrival, its spiked portcullis hanging open like the jaws of a shark. Hanging lanterns lined the way, still glowing orange in the growing light of day.

Akeela looked past the gate to the courtyard. It was practically empty save for a few young pages walking and brushing horses. The castle doves, which were everywhere in Lionkeep and were treated like royalty, hobbled along the yard in search of food, clawing at the green grass. At the top of the hill a contingent of Lionkeep's Wardens waited, rigid in their uniforms of gold and crimson. Unlike the Royal Chargers, who were under the command of Lukien and who fought Lüria's wars, the Lionkeep Wardens were autonomous troops from the Chancellery of War. Their sole responsibility was the protection of the castle and its royal inhabitants. As usual, the halberdiers were stiff at attention as home of Baron Thorin Glass, the House's minister. There, huddled around tables of oiled oak, the landowners of Lüria drank expensive wine and occasionally made important decisions. The sight of the House of Dukes soured Akeela's good mood. Baron Glass had been his major critic since he'd ascended the throne, always opposed to the changes Akeela wanted to make.

But today, Akeela wasn't interested in the bold baron. He kept his eyes locked on Lionkeep. The royal residence had housed his family for more than a century, and had been built when Lüria was young, carved from the continent by wars and treaties. Koth, having been the only town of real consequence, had been named capital of the new nation, and Lionkeep had been constructed shortly thereafter. For the people of Lüria, who worshipped many gods and so had no national temples, Lionkeep was something of a church, a holy relic to be revered. Unlike Reec or Marn or Lüria's other neighbors, the Lürians were a mixed bag of peoples. When the nation was new it had attracted tradesmen and pilgrims from across the continent, promising a good life away from the wars plaguing the world. In the dreams of its founders, Lüria was to be a place of peace and opportunity.

Akeela's mood continued to slip as he rode toward Lionkeep. His forefather kings hadn't fulfilled the vision of the founders. For them, it wasn't long before the good days of peace were replaced by war.

Constant border skirmishes and broken treaties had turned Lüria into little more than its neighbors, one more country struggling toward the future. The thought made Akeela grit his teeth.

'Breck," he said. "I'm going to change this land."

Breck smiled. "Yes, my lord, you've told me."

'A dozen times at least," Akeela admitted. "But I mean it. Things are going to be different."

'Things are different," Breck said. He was soft-spoken for a career soldier; had been since their war college days. And he always had a reassuring word for anyone who needed it. "You've made peace with Reec, my lord. I'd say that's a good start, wouldn't you?"

'A good start," agreed Akeela. "But not enough."

Breck looked forward, considering the mass of government Breck remained behind, seeing to his men and mounts. The courtyard was quickly coming to life at the king's arrival, and the warming sun felt good upon Akeela's face.

'So?" he asked as they moved through the courtyard. "What news since I left? Nothing too bad, I hope."

'Bad?" scoffed Graig. "I've had this place running like a timepiece. Not even a leaky roof to worry about."

'And the chancellors? What of them?"

'Behaving themselves. Baron Glass has been making some noise, but nothing unusual."

'That's good news," said Akeela. They passed under an archway and into a hall heading toward the kitchens. The smell of frying bacon made Akeela's stomach rumble. "You did a fine job looking after things, Graig. Thank you."

'I wish it could all be good news," said Graig.

'Isn't it?"

'No, I'm afraid. Beith had her baby."

Akeela stopped walking. "Stillborn?"

'Gods no, nothing like that," said Graig. "Just, well, deformed. Bad hand and foot, like this…" The warden made a crumpled ball of his fist. "Clubbed, I guess you'd call it. And Beith's all upset that it might be more."

'More?"

'You know," said Graig. He tapped his skull. "Its mind. The child might be simple."

All the levity went out of Akeela's face. Beith had already lost her husband, and Akeela knew how much she was looking forward to her baby. Like the midwife Gwena had said, it was going to fill her

'empty spaces.' "I should go to her," said Akeela. He glanced around, unsure what to do. "Is she up yet?"

Graig grinned. "I don't make a habit of calling on her, my lord."

'We'll talk later, Graig," said Akeela, then dashed off in the direction opposite to the kitchens.

Breakfast could wait; he needed to see Beith.

He hurried through the halls then up a staircase, dodging servants and taking the steps two at a time.

Beith had a chamber on the third floor of the main keep. She had shared it with her Akeela approached.

At the front of the guardians stood Graig, a welcoming smile stretched across his face. The Head Warden had obviously received Akeela's heralds and had arranged the guard to greet him. Graig was an old man but his eyes still twinkled, and he still looked daunting in his crimson uniform.

'Ho, Graig!" Akeela called. The king trotted forward and dismounted. A page appeared instantly to take care of his horse. Akeela ignored Craig's ceremonial bow, taking his hand instead. It was the usual ritual since Akeela had become king, and it was over in an instant. They shook, then embraced. "Good to see you," said Akeela.

'Ah, good to have you back," laughed Graig. He slapped Akeela's shoulder, then kissed his cheek.

"You've done well! I'm proud of you!"

'We're all proud of the king," said Breck, bringing up his horse. "You should have seen him, Warden.

He dealt with Karis like an old hand."

'I always told your father you'd be a diplomat." The warden spied the line of Chargers curiously.

"Where's Lukien?"

'I had him stay behind with Trager and some others," said Akeela. He smiled slyly. "They're looking after something for me. You've heard about my other good news, I suppose?"

The old man guffawed. "Yes, you're a rascal now I hear. You've fallen into the wrong crowd with these Chargers!"

'You'll love her, Graig. Cassandra's a real beauty. Isn't she Breck?"

'My lord could have done worse," Breck replied with a smile.

'Well, when do I get to see her?" asked Graig. "Why the wait?"

'Because I have a wedding to plan, you romantic old fool," said Akeela. "There's a lot to do, and I want to get this place ready for her." He rubbed his hands together. "But first, I'm starving. Did you consider my need for breakfast, by any chance?"

'I've got the kitchens on it already," smiled Graig. Then he shrugged, adding, "I'm still your houseboy, as usual. Come…" He turned and headed toward the gate, then shouted at the pages to attend the soldiers and their horses. Akeela followed him, but know you'd had a boy! I know you wanted one." He looked around the room and spotted the crib beneath the room's only window. Sunlight poured onto its whitewashed wood; a cottony blanket fell over its rim. "Ah, that must be him."

'Yes, my lord," said Beith. Pride crept into her tone. "He's sleeping, I think."

Akeela tiptoed toward the crib. "May I see him?" "Certainly," answered Beith. "But he's…" Her voice trailed off.

'I know about his problems, Beith. Warden Graig told me. I'm sorry."

Beith said quickly, "Oh, but he's a beautiful baby, my lord. He's got his father's eyes. And he's smart!

He can already tell when I say his name." Beith moved toward the crib. "Here, let me show him to you."

'If he's sleeping…"

'No," said Beith anxiously. "I want you to see him."

Akeela followed her to the crib, watching in fascination as she lifted the little bundle out of the blankets. Baby Gilwyn squirmed in protest at being awakened. Beith's expression lightened as she held out the baby for Akeela to inspect.

'Ah," said Akeela, enchanted. He stuck his face closer to the child, amazed by his smallness. Little Gilwyn fixed his bleary eyes on the king and gave a tiny cry.

'No, don't cry," said Beith, bouncing the baby in her arms. "That's the king!"

Akeela put out a finger, touching the baby's stomach. Gilwyn reacted by wrinkling his nose, which made the king laugh.

'He's beautiful," said Akeela. He noticed the clubbed hand but pretended to ignore it.

"Congratulations, Beith. If your husband were here, he'd be very proud."

'Yes," said Beith sadly. "I wish he could see him. But Meri says he's here in spirit, watching."

'And perhaps he is," said Akeela, not believing a word of it. Like some in the castle, Meri believed that the dead lived on as spirits, walking among the living. It was just one of the varied religions represented by Lionkeep's staff. "Like I said, Gilwyn would have been proud of this little soldier."

husband, Gilwyn, and together they had planned for their infant's arrival, gathering blankets and baby clothes from the women in Lionkeep and decorating a corner of their tiny apartment with toys. Gilwyn had been Lukien's friend, mostly, but on the few occasions that Akeela visited the apartment he had always found it cheery. He supposed it would be appallingly cold now. Reaching the third floor, he braced himself as he entered the hall. Most of the doors were closed. Beith's room was at the far end.

Akeela went to it and listened, but didn't hear anything. Unsure if he should interrupt, he went ahead and knocked.

'Beith?" he called softly. "Are you awake?"

There was a stirring behind the door. Akeela fixed a smile on his face.

'Who is it?" called a voice. It was hoarse from lack of sleep, but Akeela recognized it.

'Beith, it's Akeela."

After a hesitation, the startled voice returned. "The king?" There was more fumbling behind the door.

Akeela imagined Beith smoothing out her night clothes. "My lord Akeela, a moment, please…"

Akeela waited patiently until finally the door opened, revealing Beith in a disheveled robe and unkempt hair, her red eyes rimmed with sunken bags. She forced a sunny smile, stepping away from the door so he could enter. Quickly she dipped into a curtsey.

'My lord, this is a surprise. Forgive me, I wasn't expecting you. My appearance—

'Is perfectly fine, Beith, don't worry." Akeela stepped into the room. As expected, the apartment's cheerfulness had fled. "I apologize for bothering you, but I've only just arrived home. I'd heard… well, that you've had your child."

'Yes, my lord," said the woman. She wrapped her robe about herself, obviously embarrassed. Since he'd become king, Akeela had noticed the way ordinary people squirmed around him.

'Please," he implored. "Be at ease. I just wanted to see you, and your little one."

Beith brightened. "You've come to see Gilwyn?"

'Gilwyn?" laughed Akeela. "Is that his name? I didn't even Beith blanched. She hugged the baby a little tighter.

'Oh, blast," said Akeela. "I'm sorry, Beith. That was stupid of me to say."

'No, it's all right," said Beith. "But I don't think he's going to be the little soldier. He won't ever be a Charger like his father."

'No," Akeela agreed. With the baby's infirmities, being a soldier was impossible.

'But he's smart, my lord," Beith insisted. "He's not slow or simple. Gwena says he might be, but I just know he's not."

Akeela nodded. "I'm sure you're right."

'He'll be able to do things, my lord. He won't be a burden to anyone." Beith was looking at Akeela fretfully. "I swear, I'll teach him to take care of himself. He'll be a good member of this castle. I mean, if you'll allow it."

Suddenly Akeela understood her fears. Her eyes reflected her dashed dreams, and her motherly concern for a son that might grow up a beggar.

'Let me hold the baby," said Akeela. Carefully Beith handed the infant over. Akeela, who had seldom held children before, cradled the child in the crook of his arm. Little Gilwyn squirmed but was silent, looking up at him. For Akeela, it was like holding a miracle, just like Gwena had always described. The warm little body curled in his embrace, enjoying the safety of the king's protection.

'He likes you," said Beith. She glanced up at Akeela hopefully. "See? He already knows what a good king you are."

'Beith, stop. There's no need." Akeela kept his gaze on Gilwyn. "I would never abandon this child to the streets. I don't care if he's simple or a genius. Lionkeep is his home. As long as I am king, it always will be."

'Really?" asked Beith. "Will you promise me that, my lord?"

'I promise," said Akeela. He leaned down and laid a gentle kiss on the infant's forehead. "And not just to you, but to this little fellow here. He will always have a place in Lionkeep."

Beith could barely find her voice. "Thank you, my lord. Thank you."

Akeela took the baby over to a nearby chair. He sat down and rocked the child, loving the paternal feeling. Gilwyn's little mouth turned upward. Akeela took the gesture for a smile. He cooed to the baby, speaking softly.

'Little Gilwyn, Lüria is going to be a great nation. I'm going to make it special, the way the founders intended. There will always be a place for you here, and for all the other children, too. And you're going to grow up strong and smart, and whatever you can dream, you can be."

J5eith spent the rest of the day feeling lighter than air. The good news Akeela had given her put a smile back on her face, and she bragged to Meri and her other friends about the king's promise, and how her son would grow up in Lionkeep just as she and her dead husband had always planned. For Beith, who hadn't known real joy since her husband's death, the lightness in her heart felt wonderful. Now, with her baby safe, she could begin mourning her beloved properly, without fretting over the fate of her newborn.

That night, Beith slept sound and deeply. She had retired early, putting Gilwyn to bed in his crib and taking a cup of tea before drifting off to sleep. For the first time in weeks, her dreams were unpolluted.

Then she awoke for no apparent reason. Her eyes fluttered open to catch moonbeams slanting through her window. The mist of sleep was on her, and for a moment she couldn't place the time. It was very late; dawn was still many hours away. Realizing this, she listened for Gilwyn. He was a good baby and surprisingly cooperative about sleeping, but she knew it was time to check on him. Desperate for the pillow, she nevertheless rose from the bed and started toward the door, shambling through the darkness in a groggy haze. Then she saw the figure in the threshold.

Beith stumbled backward, about to scream, before an amazing calm overtook her. Unable to move, she merely stared at the figure, enchanted by a strange light emanating from its chest.

'Don't be afraid." The figure took a tiny step forward.

'What is this place?" Beith asked. Vaguely her memory returned, recalling a story she had heard as a little girl.

'It is a secret place, far from here, far across a desert. There are people like me there, and people like your child."

'Magical people?"

The woman's smile dimmed. "Yes, all right. Magical people."

Suddenly a memory bloomed in Beith's mind. She gasped, "You're the Witch of Grimhold."

'No," said the woman. "I am no witch."

'You are," Beith insisted. "My mother told me the story, when I was very young."

'Your mother was mistaken," said the woman. She closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to be concentrating. The awesome calm within Beith increased. As quickly as she had recalled the old legend, she forgot it.

'Now, tell me," the woman continued. "Will you let me take your child? I will look after him for you. I will take him to a place where no one will harm or ridicule him."

Beith struggled to stay awake. "There's no need. Gilwyn is safe here. The king has promised it."

'The new king?"

'Yes, Akeela. He's told me this very day that Gilwyn is safe here. He will always have a place here in Lionkeep. It is the king's promise."

For a moment the woman said nothing. She turned away, considering the moon outside the window.

"I have heard about your new king," she said at last. "I have heard that he is very good; very wise."

'He is good. And he has been kind to me and my baby."

'And he will look after your child, even when he is grown?"

'He will."

'Even if he is crippled?"

'Yes."

'And simple?"

Beith hesitated, but only for a second. "Yes, even then."

There was no sound from the stranger. The light from her amulet lit her face, revealing concern. Beith, still in the hold of the bewitchment, couldn't help but smile at the tiny figure who Everything about it was tiny, in fact. Beith had never seen anyone like her, not outside a carnival. She realized that the stranger was a woman, and that the woman was a midget.

'Who are you?" Beith asked. "What are you doing here?" The woman smiled. Beith could see her impish face in the red glow of her necklace. "Fair questions, Beith," she said. "But first, your child is safe.

Do not be afraid for him."

To her surprise, Beith wasn't afraid. She knew—somehow—that no harm had come to Gilwyn. She squinted at the little woman and saw her multicolored coat swirling as if it were alive. "Are you magical?"

she asked.

The question delighted the intruder. "Why, yes I am." "I'm not afraid. But I should be. Am I under a bewitchment?" The woman floated closer, until she and Beith were standing face to face. Only they weren't really, because Beith towered over the stranger. The woman looked up at Beith. She seemed to be studying her.

'Let us talk." She gestured toward the bed. "Sit." Beith heard the warnings in her mind, telling her to run and to rescue Gilwyn, yet the voices were very faint, pushed way back in her brain. So instead of running, Beith obeyed the stranger, sitting down at the edge of the bed. She noticed the amulet around the woman's neck, glowing ruby red. The remarkable coat she wore no longer swam with life, yet Beith knew she was in the power of a magician.

'Why are you here?" she asked again.

The woman replied, "For the sake of your child, Beith. I can help him."

'Gilwyn? Gilwyn needs no help."

'Does he not?" asked the woman. "I have heard about him. He is deformed, quite probably crippled.

He is not well, dear Beith. But I have a safe place for him."

'No," said Beith. "Lionkeep is a safe place for him." A sympathetic expression lingered on the stranger's face. "If only that were so," she sighed. "Your child is not like others. He may not be safe here in the castle, or anywhere in Lüria. But I know a place where all like him are safe. I can take him there."

was bright and warmed the room. Beith considered what a fine day it would be.

'Oooh, you're a hungry little scholar this morning, aren't you?" she asked.

Gilwyn kept feeding. For some reason, seeing his earnest face reminded Beith of a story she had heard when she was younger. She puzzled over the memory, trying to recall it clearly, deciding to entertain herself with the tale.

'There's a story my mother told me once," she began. She then proceeded to tell Gilwyn about Grimhold, a place where monsters live, led by a witch who steals children.

for some reason was concerned about her little boy. She reached out for the amulet around her neck, but the little woman pulled gently away.

'What is that you wear?" asked Beith.

The woman smiled down at her amulet. "This is Inai ka Vala," she replied. "You would call it the Eye of God."

'God? What god?"

'You are full of questions, Beith." The tiny woman studied her. "I think your son will be like you—inquisitive."

Talking to the woman was like floating in a dream or on a gentle lake of calm water. All the fear had left Beith now, so that there were only questions.

'Will you tell me your name?" she asked.

'Minikin," replied the woman.

'Minikin?" Beith chuckled. "Your name is Minikin? That's funny."

'Yes," said the woman. "The people who named me that thought so, too." She turned from the window, heading for the door. "Follow me."

Once again Beith obeyed, following the woman out of her bed chamber and into the main room where Gilwyn's white crib rested in the moonlight. The woman hovered over Gilwyn, her thoughts unfathomable.

'Very well," she said. "I will trust your new king to help this child." Then she bent over the crib, giving Gilwyn a kiss and speaking a single remarkable word.

"Grimhold."

W men Beith awoke the next morning, she remembered nothing of the strange intrusion or of her remarkable conversation with the midget woman. She felt refreshed and hungry, and that was all. She rose from bed at her usual hour and saw at once to Gilwyn's feeding, sitting down at her chair near the window and putting the baby to her breast. Still feeling wonderful over Akee-la's acceptance of her child, she laughed as her son fed, loving the communion of nursing. Gilwyn fed hungrily but gently, latching on without discomfort to his mother. The morning sun gossips. Worse, he had been too close to Cassandra.

Since Akeela''sdeparture, the princess had occupied his every thought, and his proximity to her was irksome. Because he was her bodyguard, he was never very far from her, accompanying her to knitting sessions and tea with her sisters and other mind-deadening activities, all the while trying to avert his eyes from her flawless face and figure. Cassandra had remained aloof, mostly, yet she had insisted that he perform his duties as her protector, making sure he was always nearby. From the moment Akeela had gone, they had shared Castle Hes like two uneasy house guests.

But now they were no longer in Castle Hes. They were in Glain, the seaside estate of Earl Linuk.

Princess Cassandra, evidently a spoiled brat, had wanted a last holiday. She had left behind her overprotective father for the watchful eyes of Linuk, whom Lukien quickly discovered was something of an adopted uncle to the girl. Linuk doted on Cassandra, opening his house to her and her handmaidens and providing them with all the splendor of Glain in springtime. Of course, Lukien had been given no choice in accompanying Cassandra to Glain. Earl Linuk had made it clear they were all going to spend a week at his estate, and Lukien's protests had fallen on the earl's deaf ears. So he had relented, and now sat in warm sunshine as Cassandra indulged herself with a picnic and Linuk's musicians entertained them.

It would have been a good day for Lukien if they were in Koth, if Trager was somewhere else, and the music was Lürian. If Cassandra wasn't so near.

Lukien lifted his gaze from the pond. On the other side of the water, past the narrow bridge that spanned it, Cassandra was with her friend Jancis. The princess had set up an easel and was painting, enjoying the light of the sun. She seemed to be hard at work, occasionally stepping back from her masterpiece and cocking her head, then lifting her brush again to make corrections. She wore a white dress that caught the sun and contrasted with her raven hair. She had dressed well for their picnic and that surprised Lukien, and occasionally she stole glances across the pond. He watched her for a long moment, and when she discovered him staring at her, the princess frowned. Quickly she returned to her painting.

-L,'ukien sat at the end of a pond, absently tossing stones into the water. The sky was bright but his mood was heavy, and as the ripples disappeared he watched them pensively, his mind a hundred miles from his halcyon surroundings. Not far away, Trager sat on a blanket on the green grass, sipping a drink and picnicking on the pheasant Earl Linuk had provided. With him were Durwin and Benn, two Royal Chargers who, like Lukien and Trager, had been left behind in Reec to look after Princess Cassandra.

Both men wore broad smiles and greasy smudges on their shirts. Trager was talking and laughing too loudly. The lieutenant had been over-enjoying his wine; Lukien had seen him empty more than one bottle over the course of the afternoon. The Bronze Knight suppressed a sigh and flicked another stone into the lake.

For two weeks now he had been in Reec, missing home and enduring Trager's company. He had been treated well by his Ree-cian hosts, but he longed to return to Koth, and every day he waited impatiently for word from Akeela, summoning him back. So far, word had yet to come. Akeela had warned him that it could be at least a month before he would return, and the wait was interminable.

Castle Hes had been a prison for Lukien, a very pleasant place to die slowly. With only Trager and a handful of Chargers for company, Lukien had been forced to bear the stares of Reecian soldiers and stableboys and the whispers of the castle I appearing. Trager didn't thank the man but commenced pouring. Lukien glanced down at his food, his appetite gone.

'You've been very quiet today, Captain." Trager handed him a glass of wine. "Are you unwell?"

The question irritated Lukien. "I'm fine," he replied.

'Then why not enjoy the day?" Trager gestured to their beautiful surroundings. "I know you don't like this duty, but there's nothing we can do about it, so why be bothered? There's wine, music…" He glanced across the pond. "And pretty ladies to enjoy."

Lukien looked up. "What does that mean?"

'It's just a pretty day, that's all." Trager sipped at his wine. He let out a grotesque belch and leaned back on his elbow. "Eat, Captain," he urged. "It's very good. Earl Linuk certainly knows how to care for his guests."

'I thought you said you wouldn't drink with Reecians," Lukien reminded him. "Or have you changed your mind?"

Trager shrugged. "Change of heart, I suppose. Free food and drink. Only a fool would pass that up."

The answer reminded Lukien why he disliked his lieutenant so much. Inwardly he cursed Akeela for leaving Trager behind with him. He was a jealous, petty man, and had been since their war college days.

He held grudges longer than anyone Lukien had ever known, too, and had never really forgiven Lukien the good fortune of being King Balak's favorite. Though they had graduated together, posting almost identical grades, Lukien had become Captain of the Chargers. Some, like Trager, thought it was because of his closeness to the king. To be honest, Lukien suspected there was some truth in that theory. But it was also because he was the best soldier the college had ever produced, and because he had proven himself in battle many times. But Trager never considered that.

'It's very nice here, don't you think, Captain?" Trager continued to sip his wine as he studied the area, swaying to the strains of the music.

'Yes, it is," Lukien conceded. He began picking at the food on his plate, nibbling at the meat of a pheasant joint.

'I'm grateful to be out of Hes," said Trager. "The castle air To Lukien, Cassandra was an enigma. She was barely more than a child, but she had the body of a woman and a keen look in her eyes that belied her innocence. In his many campaigns, he had met women like Cassandra before, those with iron under their soft skin, who longed for a wider role in life. Cassandra was like that, Lukien guessed. After only two weeks with her he knew why she had accepted Akeela's proposal. She was bored with life in Castle Hes. She was tired of being King Karis' daughter. The princess wanted to be a queen.

'And of course she will be," muttered Lukien. That was how it was for royalty—they always got what they wanted. Akeela had blundered into a beautiful wife, and Cassandra, not satisfied with one castle, would soon have two to call home. Lukien leaned back on his palms, a scowl forming on his face. Why was it then that men like him desired things they couldn't have? Being called a "brother" by Akeela simply wasn't enough. Women of refinement—women like Cassandra—were kept from him.

'Captain?"

Lukien heard the word as soon as the shadow crossed his face. Over him stood Trager, looking down with a queer smile. The lieutenant had a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

It was plain from the dullness in his eyes that he was drunk.

'You haven't eaten anything," said Trager. He handed the plate down to Lukien. "I thought you might be hungry."

Lukien hesitated. Taking the plate might invite Trager to sit down. Since he was indeed hungry, he took his chances by accepting the food—and lost the gamble. Trager sat down immediately, letting out a giant sigh as his rump hit the grass.

'Two glasses," he called to one of Earl Linuk's servants.

'Just one will do," said Lukien.

The servant hesitated. Trager smiled wickedly, then held up two fingers.

'You heard me," he said.

The servant scurried off. In a moment he returned with a pair of crystal goblets, which he handed to Trager before quickly dis was getting stale." He took a deep breath. "This is how a man should live. You can smell the sea here."

'Very nice."

'It will be good to get back home to Lüria, though. I miss it."

Lukien nodded. Trager's voice was tiresome.

'I suppose King Akeela's wedding will be quite an occasion," the lieutenant went on. "He seemed excited about it. You'll be there, of course, his steadfast man."

'I suppose."

'And it will be tournament season. He'll have it at the same time, I suppose, to celebrate the occasion." Trager looked at him. "Some jousting perhaps?"

'Oh, I'm sure," said Lukien. He returned his lieutenant's sharp smile.

'I've been practicing, Captain."

'Really? Good for you."

'In the apple orchard near Lionkeep. Before we left for Hes, I was practicing most every morning.

The spring tournament should be enjoyable this year."

Lukien laughed. "I will beat you, just as I do every year. And this time everyone at Akeela's wedding will be on hand to watch you kiss the mud. You're right—that will be fun."

'Big words," said Trager. "I have the feeling that all this bodyguard duty will make you soft." He tapped the rim of his goblet, making it ring. "This just might be the year the Bronze Knight shows his glass jaw."

'We shall see," said Lukien. "Just keep practicing, and maybe you'll have a chance against the squires."

Trager's eyes began to smolder. "I came here in friendship, Captain."

Lukien yawned. Friendship was a subject Trager knew nothing about. "Yes. Well then, thanks for the food."

But Trager didn't leave. He merely leaned back again, staring at Cassandra across the pond. A low whistle crossed his bearded lips.

'She's a beauty, isn't she?" he asked. "Akeela's going to be a lucky dog when we get back home."

Lukien said nothing.

Trager leaned in closer. "I wouldn't mind taking her to my bed, I'll tell you that."

'Lieutenant," began Lukien coldly, "you've had too much to drink. She's to be the king's wife, remember."

Trager grinned. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed her, Captain. I've seen you looking at her. You're like a bitch in heat when she passes by."

'That's enough," Lukien snapped. He snatched the wine bottle from Trager's hand. "Go dry out, Lieutenant, and I'll try to forget that insult."

For a moment, Trager didn't move. His eyes kept a challenging watch on Lukien. Then he smiled again and rose from the grass, letting the goblet drop from his hand. It shattered when it hit the ground.

'You know, Captain, you're a very arrogant man," said Trager, then turned and walked off.

Lukien watched him go, his heart racing. He suddenly felt sick. Had his attraction to Cassandra been so obvious? He hadn't thought so, but now he wasn't sure. He gazed across the pond again to where the princess was painting. The music of the lutes surrounded him. She was very beautiful, and he simply couldn't look away.

V_,'n the other side of the pond, Cassandra played with her paint pots, pretending to ignore the strange knight across the water. It was a perfect day and her holiday from Castle Hes had been delightful, yet still she was restless, unable to get Lukien out of her mind. She glanced past her easel, moving only her eyes. He was alone again. The sharp-tongued one, Trager, had left him. Now he was sipping a glass of wine. He looked pensive, as if he was staring at nothing in particular. But Cassandra knew better. The Bronze Knight had been watching her since they'd met, rarely taking his eyes off her. In every sense of the word he had become her bodyguard, and to her dismay she liked the way he coveted her. Her stomach fluttering, she returned to her painting, using a dull yellow to complete his uniform. He wasn't in his armor today but she liked him best that way, and since no one but Jancis had come across the bridge to disturb her, she had painted what she desired, without fear of being discovered. With a thin brush, just a few horse hairs thick, she detailed his brilliant, bronze armor. The sun shone on his golden hair. To Cassandra, he was strikingly handsome.

'He's looking at me again," she whispered. A few yards away, Jancis sat on a blanket, knitting absently. Her friend's observation made her raise her head. "No, don't stare," snapped Cassandra. She kept her eyes on her painting. "Trust me, that's all. He's been looking at me all afternoon."

Jancis, who was appalled by Cassandra's painting of the knight, made a disgusted sound.

'If anyone sees what you're doing…"

'No one will see," Cassandra chuckled. "It's private here. That's why I wanted to come. At least I don't have my sisters looking under my bed."

'But the earl, Cassandra. This is his home."

'So? He doesn't care what I get up to just as long as I'm happy, the old dear." The princess smiled at her painting. It was very good considering her amateurish skill, and she was proud of the way she had captured his expression. Earnest, with just a touch of danger.

'You should be painting your new husband," Jancis chastised. She lowered her knitting angrily. "And just what will you do with it when it's done? Give it to Lukien?"

'Don't be silly."

'Me?"

'Yes, you. Stop fretting now, I'm trying to work."

Cassandra stole another glance across the water. Lukien had looked away again, which deflated her.

She frowned. Another of his men came to join him, not Trager this time but the one called Benn. He sat down next to Lukien and the two began talking.

'He's not at all what I expected," said Cassandra finally.

Jancis rolled her eyes. "I can see you won't let me get any of my knitting done today."

'He is though, isn't he, Jan? Handsome, I mean?"

'Stop being wicked," said Jancis. She looked around for unwelcome ears. "You're engaged, Cass.

Have you forgotten?"

Cassandra hadn't forgotten. In fact, she kept drawing comparisons between Lukien and her husband-to-be. Akeela was sweet and charming in his own nervous way. And he was a great man, at least that's what everyone was saying. She knew she was lucky to have him. But he was also bookish and overly polite, with none of Lukien's roughness. All her life Cassandra had been surrounded by people like Akeela. She realized suddenly how tired she was of men with breeding.

'It's nice to daydream," she said softly. She put down her brush, plainly staring now across the water.

Benn and Lukien were laughing and sharing some cheese. A lute player was nearby, as were several of Linuk's friends. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the picnic—except Cassandra. It wasn't the pain in her stomach that bothered her anymore. Since coming to Glain that had mostly subsided. Now it was a different ache that seized her, much less physical than the one that had kept her on the chamber pot.

'I want to go riding," she decided suddenly. "With Lukien."

'What?" Jancis put down her knitting and stood. "Cass, don't."

'Why not? It's my only opportunity. No one here will care."

'What about your father?"

'My father's twenty miles from here." Cassandra pulled the canvas over her painting, hiding it from prying eyes. "I want to talk to him."

Jancis huffed forward. "That's why you wanted to come here, isn't it?" she asked. "You just wanted a chance to be alone with him."

When Cassandra didn't answer, Jancis sighed.

'Please, Cassandra, don't be stupid. Just forget it, all right?"

'I don't want to forget it," said Cassandra. "I want to find out why he's been staring at me." She looked at her friend imploringly. "I want to find out about him."

Jancis shook her head in resignation. Cassandra gave her a smile.

'You're a dear. Look after the painting for me, will you?" she said, then started back across the bridge. Lukien noticed her at once. He stood up, as did the others, bowing his head in greeting.

'I want to go riding," Cassandra declared. She looked at Li-nuk's servants. "Fetch me two horses, please." Then she looked at Lukien. "You'll come with me."

The knight's face drained of color. "What?"

'You'll ride with me, keep me safe. You're my protector, aren't you?"

'Yes, but—

'Then protect me. My father wouldn't want me riding off without you."

Lukien swallowed hard. "All right, my lady," he managed. "I'll ask some others to come with us as well."

'No," said Cassandra, brushing past him. "I came to Glain to get away from the noise of the city, not to drag it along by the tail. You alone will be quite enough, Lukien."

As she passed, heading toward the house to change into her riding gear, she heard Lukien's astonished gasp. A small, satisfied smile crept onto her face.

warm breeze blew across the meadow, stirring her hair. Cassandra tucked the ebony strands behind her ear, then looked around with a satisfied nod.

'We'll stop here," she said.

Lukien shifted in his saddle. "Stop? I thought you wanted to go riding."

'I want to rest now," she said as she slid from her horse. She smiled as she surveyed the meadow, enchanted by the sunlight on the grass. There was a patch of buttercups nearby. Cassandra sat down next to it and folded her legs beneath her. She stuck her nose into the flowers, became frightened by a bee, then plucked one of the blooms. Seeing Lukien still mounted, she sighed, "Please come down. I won't hurt you."

Embarrassed, Lukien dropped from his horse and towered over her. "Earl Linuk will be worried about you. We should head back."

'We haven't been gone that long," said Cassandra. "And I have that old dear Linuk wrapped so tightly around my finger he can barely breathe. I could be gone for a week and weasel my way back into his graces in a minute. Now relax. You're making me nervous."

Lukien remained standing over her, unsure what to do. He felt awkward. He looked around for something—anything—to occupy him. Cassandra noted his nervousness and chuckled.

'Sit, Lukien," she said. For the first time she gave him a genuine smile as she gestured to the grass beside her. "Here."

Lukien at last sat down. His eyes darted around the meadow, praying that no one could see him.

Cassandra gazed across the plain, sighing happily. Her face glowed with sunlight and a look of deep satisfaction. It was easy to tell how much she enjoyed being away from Hes. Without her father or sisters shadowing her, she didn't seem like a child anymore. Lukien let his eyes linger on her a bit too long.

'You're staring at me," she said.

Lukien turned his head. "I'm sorry."

'You've been looking at me a lot, I've noticed," said the princess.

'Forgive me, my lady. I meant no offense." Lukien groped for o Lukien's surprise, Cassandra was an excellent rider. She hadn't needed his assistance to mount or guide her horse, and in fact she led the way through the rolling hills of Glain, hardly speaking or even turning to regard him. Her silence was a pretense, Lukien knew, and it bothered him. She had surprised him with her request to go riding, then had once again turned into her stony, familiar self. As she rode a few paces ahead, taking full notice of the meadow and none of him at all, Lukien watched her in fascination. He even felt a little nervous. Or was it guilt?

They were far from Linuk's house now, far from the other picnickers and servants, in a meadow of swaying grass surrounded by gentle slopes. Lukien could see no one for miles, just the birds and creatures that called the meadow home. They rode at an easy pace, Cassandra occasionally pausing to gaze at the open sky or steal a leaf from a tree. It had been nearly an hour since they'd left the others and her mood had quieted. She wasn't quite the insistent princess she had been earlier, but she wasn't a companion, either. It was as if she were riding alone, and Lukien kept a respectful distance, silently spying on her. A 'But you kill people. I have heard the stories. They say you are a berserker in battle. My Uncle Raxor once told me that you killed twelve men in the battle of Redthorn, even after he had called retreat." Cassandra looked at him squarely. "Is that so?"

'I'm a soldier, my lady. I do the bidding of my king. When there's war, I fight."

The girl's eyes narrowed on him. "But you love it, don't you? I can see it in you. You love to fight."

'It is what I am best at," Lukien replied. He studied the blade of grass in his hand, then noticed the flower in Cassandra's. The comparison made him laugh. He was like the grass—utterly common. And Cassandra was certainly a flower. But he had tried to be more than just a blade of grass. He had tried to distinguish himself through battle. "I won't apologize for what I am, my lady," he said. "You are royal.

You don't know what it means to be a commoner."

Cassandra seemed perplexed. "But you're not a commoner. You're a knight."

'I am a knight now, true. People call me'sir,' but it wasn't always so."

The princess leaned closer. "Tell me. I want to know about you."

'I was an orphan, living on the streets of Koth. My father abandoned us and my mother died shortly thereafter. I was alone and had to fend for myself. And Koth is a big city, my lady. Bigger than Hes. It's not a place for a boy to grow up alone."

'How did you survive?" asked Cassandra.

'How does anyone survive on the streets? I stole. And I worked, when I could. The smithies were always looking for boys to exploit. They drove us like slaves. I lived like that for almost four years, all alone." A smile cracked Lukien's face. "Until I met Akeela."

Cassandra noticed his grin. "You're very fond of each other, aren't you?"

Lukien nodded. Despite all the arguments he'd had with Akeela, he truly loved him.

'And you are Akeela's champion? You protect him?"

'I protect him because I love him, because he is the closest an explanation. "I'm supposed to protect you, after all. It's hard to do that unless I look at you." Cassandra's smile grew sly. "Oh."

Lukien picked a blade of grass andtwirled it between his fingers. "It's my job, you see."

'Yes, I see. Thank you for explaining it to me. I was curious." "Well, that's all right, then." Cassandra didn't stop smiling. "Yes."

Lukien cleared his throat. For some reason, he couldn't keep himself from asking, "But you were curious?"

'Oh, yes," said Cassandra. She played with the flower in her hand. "I mean, you were staring at me so intently across the pond, I was wondering why. I thought perhaps you found me… interesting."

A tiny terror seized Lukien. He knew he'd crossed a line suddenly, and didn't know how to respond.

Cassandra was baiting him. Bolstered by the privacy and ignoring his guilt, he said, "You are interesting, my lady. You're different from most women I've known."

'Am I? Tell me."

Lukien tried a smile. "You are very beautiful and talented, and no man can resist that. But you are also refined."

Cassandra laughed. "Oh, but you live in the king's castle. You are surrounded by refined women, sir."

Yes, thought Lukien blackly. Surrounded and doomed to never touch them.

He didn't tell Cassandra how he longed to be with a princess instead of a harlot, or how Lürian women of breeding were reserved for dukes and barons. He said instead, "Still, you are different. You can paint and you can dance. You can even ride a horse. I think you are a mystery, my lady. And that interests me." Cassandra brightened, not showing the slightest hint of offense. "And you interest me, sir.

Here in Reec you are the Bronze Knight."

'I'm called that in Lüria as well, my lady." "Ah, but in Lüria you are a hero, while here in Reec you are a villain."

Lukien bristled. "I am no villain."

'Yes, my lady," he said. "Friends."

Cassandra's lovely face shone, but then went horribly twisted. She jerked back her hand with a cry, putting her hands to her stomach and doubling forward. Startled, Lukien rose and knelt beside her.

'My lady?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

The girl let out a horrible gasp. Her eyes were clamped with pain.

'Princess? What is it?"

Barely able to put up a hand, Cassandra moaned, "Nothing… I'm all right."

'No you're not." Lukien took hold of her arm. "Tell me what's wrong."

'It's nothing," Cassandra insisted through gritted teeth. She was on the verge of tears.