Bayan stepped forward and spoke to the redeemed captives in a low voice.” The Eagle? Prince Ekkehard?"

Beneath the grime, Lord Thiemo's clothes had the cut, color, and richness of a lord's garb, and when he rose to his feet he had the slightly bow-legged stance of a young man who has grown up spending more time in the saddle than walking.” Dead," he said raggedly.

"Is this true?" asked Bayan.

"I fear it must be, my lord prince," said the old Lion.” It was winter. It was snowing like to drown us. And we were attacked by shadows." His voice dropped to a whisper and he glanced around as though expecting to see them materialize out of nowhere.” The Lost Ones."

Flushing, he struggled to contain the memory, and the fear. His companions murmured to each other, huddling together as if the mere mention of the creatures who had attacked them was enough to bring down a snowstorm.

Gotfrid went on harshly.” I never knew what happened to the others, except for two of my men who were cut down by elfshot in the forest. We got scattered.

We found Lord Thiemo, here," he nodded toward the youth, "in the woods, and escaped as best we could. In the end we got taken by bandits. They were merciful. They took our weapons, cloaks, and belts, but they sold us to the slavers instead of killing us." He wiped a tear from his eye.” That Eagle, she was a good woman. It pains my heart to have lost her."

Bayan murmured under his breath so softly that Sanglant knew the words were not meant even for Sanglant's ears.” As it does mine."

"Ekkehard is dead?" asked Sapientia.” Young fool." She wiped a tear from her eye as though she'd copied the movement from the old Lion.

"I heard otherwise," said Sanglant.” There's a rumor heard as far north as Walburg that Ekkehard has turned his coat and is riding with Bulkezu."

o

Lord Thiemo leaped up.” It's not true! Ekkehard would never act the traitor.

He'd never betray the king. If his father had only given him what he deserved—

"Quiet!" Blessing's voice cracked like a whip over the youth's protest.” Don't yell at my Daddy. I don't like that."

Just like that, the youth dropped to one knee before her and bowed his head obediently.” Yes, my lady."

No one snickered or even grinned as Blessing extended a hand to touch him lightly on the head.” Stand up, Lord Thiemo," she commanded.” But don't yell."

"I think such rumors are not true," said Bayan.” Maybe he fell, and his armor off his body was took, and now is being worn by a Quman thief."

"I think it's true," muttered Sapientia, "or at least that it could be true. If you dangled enough sweets and enough flattery in front of Ekkehard, I swear I believe he would do anything."

"Even that?" demanded Sanglant.

"You don't know him as well as I do."

It was hard, seeing the resentful purse of her mouth, the weakness that had troubled her heart for her entire life, to believe that she knew what she was talking about. She was always afraid that the person next to her at table was going to get a bigger cut of beef than she did.

"Come, Sapientia," said Bayan hastily, appearing to know his wife's moods very well, "you will judge which prisoners come free to serve in our army."

"Come! Come!" echoed Blessing, dancing from foot to foot.” I want to see." Not waiting for the others, she raced ahead, Anna and, belatedly, Lord Thiemo hurrying after her.” What's that?" the girl shrieked, pointing toward the far wall of the old hill fort where, seen through various carts and stalls, the palanquin belonging to Bayan's mother had come to rest. Her four slave bearers had hunkered down to wait. With the curtains pulled closed it was impossible to know from this distance what the Kerayit shaman was looking at, but Sanglant felt sure she was examining something worthy of interest. With Bayan and Sapientia beside him, he hastened after his child. His companions followed him.

Here in this quarter of the little market the slaves included Quman prisoners trussed up or shackled; even the children were considered dangerous enough to be bound. As they approached, poor Zacharias began nervously twisting one hand about the other wrist, as if remembering the chafing hold of a shackle. His right eye blinked alarmingly the closer they got to one sullen display of Quman prisoners.

"They stink so effusively," said Heribert, waving a scrap of linen cloth in front of his nose as they approached the wagons belonging to a Wendish merchant, a stout woman with the gaze of a stoat spying on an untouched nest of eggs.” Is there any way to clean them up?"

Zacharias' giggle was cut through by hysteria, barely suppressed.” Throw them in the river. They hate water." He wiped his brow and looked ready to jump in the river himself.

"Courage, Brother Zacharias," said Sanglant softly. Zacharias glanced at him in surprise and, with an effort, steadied his breathing and squared his shoulders like a man preparing for battle.

The merchant hurried forward to greet them.” My lord prince, I pray you are well come to this terrible place, and that you may find what you need here among my wares. I am called Mistress Otlinde, out of Osterburg, where your most noble aunt, Duchess Rotrudis, rules her subjects with a steady hand. My lord Druthmar! I have bided several times most rewardingly in the fine town of Walburg. Perhaps you may recall the fine silver silk damask my lady Waltharia selected from among my wares for your youngest son's naming day?"

"Alas," Druthmar replied, with a pleasant smile, "I do not."

Mistress Otlinde looked like the kind of merchant who recalled every least transaction she had ever made, not to mention the exact count of eggs she had sucked dry.” I pray you, let my son bring you ale. How may I help you?"

Sanglant's attention was caught by his daughter, who had bolted away from Bayan and gone to examine the palanquin and the four male slaves. Without warning, she grabbed the edge, hoisted herself up, and slithered in through the gaudy draperies protecting the woman concealed within.

Anna shrieked in protest. The Ungrians called out in shock and dismay, and Bayan grabbed for Blessing's small shod foot, just missing it as it vanished behind the curtains. The slaves leaped to their feet, as distressed as fowl caught napping by a fox. Bayan

"My lord prince!"

Captain Fulk had heard, as had Lord Druthmar, Lord Hrodik, and several of the other noblemen.

"Do you think it wise to allow Quman into our ranks, Prince Sanglant?" asked Druthmar.” What's to prevent them from murdering us in our tents at night once they have the run of camp?"

"Come, Brother Zacharias," said Sanglant, "how can I convince Quman soldiers to ride in my army, under my command, without having to watch my back ever after?"

"Will they take gold?" asked Lord Hrodik.

Zacharias laughed.” Yes, they'll take it and then murder you afterward to see if you're hiding any more on your person."

"Might they swear a binding oath?" asked Captain Fulk, "as a good Wendishman would?"

"They'd swear an oath as easily as they'd spit in your face just before they cut off your head."

"Are they such savages that they can't be trusted at all?" demanded Lord Druthmar. He was an able man and a decent enough companion on the march, but Sanglant had discovered that he lacked imagination and ambition.

Zacharias laughed, a choked sound that annoyed Sanglant.” I pray you, forgive me," he said at last, shuddering.” Griffin feathers, my lord prince."

"Griffin feathers! Like those my mother had at Verna, when she shot the creatures that attacked us."

"Just so. Bulkezu's feathers, those were'." A nasty gleam lit Zacharias' gaze as he savored a memory.” I remember how she defeated him."

"Truly, a remarkable feat. If only she would have stayed to lend some of her skills to my cause. But she never told me it was Bulkezu she had bested."

Zacharias smiled wryly. After all, he, too, had been abandoned by Alia when she no longer needed him. He surely had no illusions about her loyalties.” Nay, my lord prince, do not think she tried to deceive you. I doubt she ever knew or cared about his name. But he'll not have forgotten her as easily as she forgot him."

"I suppose not."

"He's a madman, my lord prince. Nay. Do not shake your head as if I were a poet crowing for my supper. I mean it in truth. He is mad."

"So was I, for a time. But he wasn't so mad that he couldn't stalk and kill a griffin."

Heribert was listening.” It seems to me that a man must be mad to stalk a griffin. Are you really saying, Zacharias, that the Quman will follow a man wearing griffin wings even if he has nothing else to offer them? What of loyalty?

Necessity? Family honor?"

"Have you ever seen a griffin, Heribert?" asked Zacharias.

"I have not."

"Then you'd not ask that question." He snorted, but not entirely with contempt.”

Any man in the tribes can turn his back on his begh and take his tent and his herds and his family out into the steppe. Any man among them can live like a prince and his wife like a queen, if he chooses to leave the tribe behind. If he doesn't mind the solitude and is content with a small herd that he and his family can care for alone."

"Do you mean to say they're entirely faithless?" demanded Druthmar.” Not even honorable enough to swear vows and keep them?"

"They're the most loyal soldiers I've ever seen. Never once would a Quman rider complain of hardship. They'd die rather than utter one word against the begh they follow."

Lord Hrodik had taken a liking to Druthmar, who put up with him, and he exclaimed loudly in protest, looking as if he would like to spit at the helpless prisoners.” If you love them so much that you praise them like kings, then why did you flee from them, Prater?"

"I hate them," said Zacharias softly.” Never doubt that. They treated me like a dog, and worse than a dog." Sanglant had noticed now and again a certain expression on Zacharias' face, a way the disreputable frater had of wrinkling up his nose as at a bad smell, or as if he were trying not to snarl contemptuously—

or yelp in fright. He had that look now. The frater looked the prisoners up and down and even swaggered forward two steps, well out of reach in case one should try to kick him. The Quman studied him with those unnaturally blank stares, then glanced away dismissively. But Zacharias wasn't done. A string of words emerged fluently from his lips, swift and sweet. The aloof demeanor of the Quman

slaves snapped so fast that poor Lord Hrodik yelped, startled, and leaped backward. The slaves growled and swore, spitting. One yanked so hard against the cords that bound him that the post to which he and his comrades were tied, driven deep into the ground, rocked alarmingly. Druthmar drew his sword.

Bayan's Ungrian guards came running. Sanglant laughed, feeling the old familiar surge as his heart pounded and excitement raced along his limbs.

Mistress Otlinde's hired guards bolted forward with their staffs and began beating the bound prisoners into submission.

It wasn't a pretty sight. The Quman who had howled curses at Zacharias hunched over, taking hard blows without a whimper. In its own horrible way, it was an impressive display of toughness.

But it was a waste.

"For the sake of God," said Sanglant harshly, moving in to drag off the most rabid of the hired guards, who was whacking away like a crazed man at the Quman now driven to his knees below him.” Hold!" The man whirled, thinking to strike the prince, but Sanglant caught his arm in mid-strike and held it, staring him down. After a moment, the hired guard shrank away, called off his fellows, and retreated to a safe distance, glowering. His victim spat out a few teeth and wiped blood off his chin. Staggering slightly, he stood, lifting his chin to look up at Sanglant, meeting his gaze. In the end, after a long battle, it was the Quman who looked away first.

"What was that?" Sanglant grabbed Zacharias' shoulder and spun him around.

The frater was breathing hard, as though he'd been running, and sweat streamed down his face.” I would have been better amused if I knew what purpose it serves to beat them senseless."

"Forgive me, my lord prince." Zacharias could hardly speak because he was panting so hard, flushing and almost stammering.” I only wish it were Bulkezu trussed up in their place. My mother always told me I was better armed with my tongue than many a man who carries spear and shield."

"If they hadn't been tied up, they'd have torn you to bits," observed Heribert, who had retreated a few steps, letting Lord Druth-mar's broad shoulders shield him.

Zacharias spoke again, hoarsely, still catching his breath.” Griffin wings, my lord prince. They'd never stab in the back a man wearing griffin wings." With a shuddering sigh, he strode off into the crowd.

"Nay, Heribert," said Sanglant quietly before the cleric could hasten after him,

"he has his own demons to fight. Let him be for now. Yet I would gladly know what he said to them."

The Quman slaves had by now all picked themselves up, shrugging bruised shoulders, licking away blood that trickled down from their nostrils, all of it done awkwardly because their hands were tied up tightly behind their backs. Bayan and Sapientia hurried up, having heard the commotion.

"Do they trouble you?" demanded Bayan.” I can have my men kill every one, but first I must wait on my mother. She sometimes likes to take one of these—"

He spat at the feet of the nearest one, shoulders taut and one hand on his sword hilt as if he meant to cut their throats himself.” —as a slave. But such maggots as this are unworthy even to be slaves."

"I think they're not really born of human blood," said Druthmar in a low voice.”

You'd think it hadn't hurt them at all. There's no shame in saying what hurts when a wound is honorably won, or dishonorably given." He, too, glanced toward the hired guards, a motley-looking crew of mercenaries who had probably been bandits preying on innocent travelers two months ago.

"No shame," agreed Sanglant. He beckoned to Brother Breschius.” Do you know what my frater said to them? I know you have experience with the tribes."

"Nay, Prince Sanglant," said Breschius.” I was a slave among the Kerayit, not the Quman clans. I know a few words of Quman, it's true, and indeed I believe he made some comment about their mothers, but beyond that I could not understand what he said."

"What do you care what the frater said to them?" asked Sapientia scornfully.”

They're only Quman. More beasts than people."

"They're soldiers. We have need of soldiers, I believe. If they aren't Pechanek Quman, then there's no reason we can't take them into our army as well and use them to fight Bulkezu."

Bayan stiffened as though he'd been spat on, turned abruptly, and walked away into the market.

Sapientia turned angrily on Sanglant.” You know how he hates the Quman. It was Quman who killed his son. How can you even suggest that we use Quman troops?"

i

"I'll use what I must to defeat Bulkezu. There is far more at stake here and now, Sapientia, even than this. As I will tell you when we have more privacy. Any man or woman who will fight for me, I will take into my army. If Bulkezu is not defeated soon, if the Seven Sleepers are allowed to act as they will without opposition because we quarrel about which men we deign to use to do our killing for us, then we will be no better off than that poor lad, led away in chains." He gestured toward Lord Thiemo, loitering like a faithful dog a discreet distance away from the palanquin as he waited for Blessing.” Nay. We'd be lucky to be slaves. More likely we'd be dead and our father's kingdom shattered and overrun."

The force of his words made her uncertain. He could see it in her eyes: ought she to believe him? Object? Walk on? Call for help? Give a command?

He remembered the expression on Waltharia's face that night she had offered him a gold torque.” To rule, you must lead, Sister," he said softly, "or else stand aside."

Annoyance flared.” Where is your gold torque, Brother?"

"I left it with my wife."

"Who does not ride with you, I see."

"Who does not ride with me, as you see."

"Lady help us, did she abandon you and the child? Just as your mother abandoned you." She clucked reprovingly.” Alas, you and Father have left yourselves at the mercy of inconstant women."

But Sanglant knew how to play this game.” I pray you, Sister, do not speak so slightingly of your own blessed mother, Queen Sophia, for she was always kind to me even if all the other things they said of her were true."

Sapientia flushed bright red. She called to her ladies and strode off after Bay an.

Heribert stepped up beside him.” A fruitless victory, I fear."

"True enough. And ill gotten, may Queen Sophia forgive me, for it's true she was always kind to me. It was the Wendish clerics who would persist in never trusting her, just because she was Are-thousan."

Blessing's childish giggle rang out, and she slid out from under the curtains, tumbled to her knees, and picked herself up before Anna could get to her. She allowed Anna to dust off the knees of her leggings and straighten her sleeves but hadn't a chance to speak before Sanglant lifted her up.

"That was rashly done, Daughter!"

Her sweet little face trembled, her mouth turned down, and the shock of his stern anger made tears well up in her eyes as she stared up at him in surprise.

But she had to learn.

"You might as well stick your hand into a nest of wasps as crawl in where you're forbidden to go!"

"But—"

"Nay, I'll hear no more from you now, Blessing. You went where you were not permitted and did so without asking permission. Because of that, you may not walk around camp anymore today. Anna, take Blessing back to my tent and see that she stays there the rest of the day. Matto can help. Lord Thiemo, you'll stand guard over her. Do please kindly recall that you take orders from me, not from my daughter, who is after all barely more than an infant."

"Y-yes, my lord prince," stammered Thiemo, who had the grace to blush.

Blessing began to shriek in protest, then broke down into hic-cuping snivels as Sanglant handed her brusquely into Anna's arms.” But, Daddy—"

He grasped one of her little hands in his and caught her chin with the other, so that she had to look at him.” Is this how Emperor Taillefer's heir returns through camp, crying like a helpless child taken prisoner in war? You'll take the punishment you earned, and you'll take it proudly."

She gulped several times, fighting down tears. Anger swelled, easy to see as she screwed up her mouth in a pout. She bit back several protests, then, finally, squirmed out of Anna's grasp and marched away with her back stiff and her hands clenched in fury. Anna and Thiemo hurried after her.

"Let me go," said Heribert softly at his side.

"Nay, my friend, she'll only twist you into softening the blow. I can't trust you with her when she's in this mood. As soon as she starts sniffling, you'll run out and fetch her honey cakes, anything to sweeten the punishment. I'll keep you with me, in case I need sweetening."

"Well," said Sapientia, sauntering up with an ill-disguised smirk i on her face. She had seen the altercation and now returned with Bayan in time to savor the girl's scolding.” I trust we have seen more here than we had cared to see." She turned to her husband.” There are perhaps a score of slaves in the whole market worth freeing. I'll have my stewards take care of the matter. I trust we may leave the rest to rot in their chains." She indicated the Quman.”

Don't you agree, Sanglant?"

Bayan kept quite still, neither speaking nor showing any emotion except that both his hands were clenched, and Sanglant thought it prudent to retire from the field on this matter, at least.” We've a long road, hunting Bulkezu," he agreed mildly.

She lifted her chin to examine Sanglant with what she evidently considered regal command.” Now that you have come to aid us with your troops, you may join our war council tomorrow night. We'll be leaving Machteburg the day after."

She beckoned to her attendants and she and Bayan moved away together through the throng that had gathered, mostly soldiers come to survey the merchants' encampment and get a closer look at their commanders.

A youth pressed through the crowd in the opposite direction. When he saw Sanglant, he changed course.

"What is it, Matto?" asked Sanglant as the lad hurried up.

"The old man wishes to speak urgently to you, my lord prince. He says he's seen news."

The phrasing sent Sanglant's heart racing. He had a tremendous sense of impending action, that moment before a storm surge breaks over the wharf.

They left the market. A ferry raft took them over the river to the neatly-laid-out encampment where his army, fully three hundred mounted cavalry as well as a number of other fighters, had set up their tents. The ditch being dug around the perimeter was almost complete, the easiest defense against a surprise cavalry attack should there be Quman lurking in the woods. Wolfhere waited for him in the shadow of his tent's awning, out of the sun. Blessing had gone inside the tent to sulk. He could hear her companions talking in low voices; Lord Thiemo seemed to be telling the child some kind of story about a phoenix. Harmless enough, and it might serve to keep her out of trouble for the evening.

"What news?" he asked Wolfhere. They walked away from the tent, giving them some privacy to converse. Only Heribert and Druthmar attended them. The rest of the pack waited restlessly under the awning, sipping mead.

"I found Hanna," said Wolfhere in a troubled voice.” I'd looked for her through fire and water both these past months. Since I couldn't spy her, I thought she must be dead—

"Who is Hanna?" asked Heribert.

"The young Eagle I rode with when we took you over the mountains," snapped Wolfhere.” Or do you even remember her?"

Heribert wisely did not answer, although it was clear by his puzzled expression that he did not really recall her.

But for Sanglant the name sent off a cascade of memories: how he'd first seen Liath during a sally outside the walls of Gent; the way her braid swayed along her spine, sensuous and inviting although she wasn't the kind of woman who meant to be inviting, not after the life she'd lived and the abuse she'd suffered at Hugh of Austra's hands. Hanna had called Liath a fool for marrying him.” She seemed a wise and honest young woman," he said at last, surprised to find himself smiling. It had been a long time since thoughts of Liath had made him smile.

Wolfhere's smile in answer was as soft as a tender kiss.” Truly, Hanna is more than she seems, so I've discovered. She wasn't dead at all but held captive and concealed by Quman sorcery."

Sanglant swung round.” Quman sorcery!"

"Bulkezu's taken her prisoner."

"Ai, Lord. A grim fate, indeed. Was Ekkehard with Bulkezu as well?"

"I did not see him, my lord prince. I saw her only briefly because—" It was so unlike Wolfhere to hesitate, to show any uncertainty, that Sanglant set a hand on the old Eagle's arm to coax him. Druthmar had the patience of an ox, if rather more virility, and he had evidently heard so many awful things about Wolfhere from Hedwig that he found the old man fascinating, in the same way one stands watching from the safety of a bench as a scorpion skitters around the room.

At last, Wolfhere sighed.” Because of the owl."

"Owl?"

"Many eyes watch," observed Wolfhere cryptically.” But what I saw where the owl dispelled the mists I recognized easily enough. It was the royal palace at Augensburg, burned now, al in ruins.

That's where I saw Hanna. As briefly seen and as briefly gone again, but without question it was her, surrounded by Quman soldiers. That means that Bulkezu and his army ride north along the eastern bank of one of the tributaries of the Veser River."

"God save us," said Druthmar.” Bulkezu has struck into Wen-dar. I thought he still wandered in the marchlands."

"Duke Burchard took a force south to Aosta, to support Henry," said Sanglant.”

There's no one to stop Bulkezu from riding all the way north along the Veser to Osterburg."

"How can he hope to take Duchess Rotrudis' city?" asked Druthmar.” He'd have to besiege it for months."

"Truly, perhaps we're going at this wrong. Why lay in a siege at all, if he can just ride around them? Why go north to Osterburg when he could as easily strike west into Fesse and western Saony? Duchess Liutgard also rode south with my father. Who is left to protect Wendar?"

Yet the next night at the war council their debate hung up time and again not on the threat Bulkezu and his army posed but on the veracity of Wolfhere's testimony.

"You've no proof Bulkezu is in Avaria riding north along the Veser," said Sapientia for the third time as certain of her attendants nodded agreement.” I can't believe you let that Eagle Wolfhere ride with you, after the king outlawed him. That's as good as rebelling outright against Father's authority—

"Which I have not done, Sister." Like an ill-trained hunting dog, Sapientia kept veering back to the already gnawed bone instead of forging forward on the trail of fresh meat.” Yet he has served me well. I might never have found you and Bayan if not for his Eagle's sight."

"Dearly bought," she retorted, "if it means losing Father's trust."

"How much trust can any of us place in the words of an outlaw?" demanded Lady Brigida, Sapientia's favorite, a florid woman with, Heribert had murmured, more hair than sense.

The lords standing at Sapientia's back murmured in agreement with Brigida's complaint. Even Thiadbold, the scarred, redheaded captain of the two cohorts of Lions who marched with the princess, nodded his head uneasily.

"Yet I wonder what news Father gains of us in Aosta?" mused Sapientia.” Surely he has reached Darre safely by now. Can't your Eagle tell you that?"

"His army has come to Dane, so it seems. No Eagle's sight is perfect, and there are certain glamours and amulets that can veil that sight."

Murmurs rose from the assembly, hearing of such witchcraft.

"Nor have we heard from Princess Theophanu," interposed Lady Bertha, who despite being Hugh of Austra's half sister seemed to Sanglant the most sensible of the nobles traveling in Sapientia's train.” None of her messengers have gotten through to us, if indeed she has been able to send any."

"All the more reason to return to this matter of Bulkezu's army." Sanglant hoisted his cup and found, to his annoyance, that he had drained it. Bayan's Ungrian servants, two of them eunuchs, were as well trained as Bayan's Ungrian soldiers. A smooth-cheeked man hurried up with a pitcher of wine, a strong vintage that had already begun to make Sanglant's head swim. The Ungrians didn't cut their wine with water.

"If Bulkezu does intend to march on Osterburg," said Sapientia, "he'll be trapped for months in a siege."

Sanglant sighed, and for the first time he looked directly, and beseechingly, at Bayan, who had spoken not one word since the council began.

"If it is true," said Bayan finally. He paused. Every soul fell silent. It was easy to see who really commanded the army, although by every right and privilege the Wendish folk, at least, belonged to Sapientia.” If it is true we can trust this Eagle's sight, who says to us that for months there lies a cloud of sorcery over the land that hides Bulkezu. But I know the power of magic. None better than I!

Maybe now the cloud parts and the Eagle gets a look. So. If it is true Bulkezu rides north along the Veser, then what prevents him from swinging wide, around this city, and going on his merry way, as Prince Sanglant says? Bulkezu can leave a force of small size camped outside the walls, and with this force he can trick Duchess Rotrudis so she will believe he sets a siege at her gates. Then, if she so believes, she will not harry him until for her and for Saony it is too late."

"And he can do as much damage as he likes," agreed Sanglant.” Or he could strike west before he even reaches Osterburg and go

for Kassel or the Rhowne heartlands near Autun. The best we could hope for in that case would be that he drives all the way to the western sea and spends his fury laying waste to Salia."

"What do you think we should do, Prince Sanglant?" asked Captain Thiadbold from where he stood behind the seated ladies and lords.

"I say we march hard and try to reach Osterburg before he does."

"Impossible," protested Lady Brigida. She giggled, as she was wont to do when she became nervous.

Lamps lit the interior of the spacious tent. By their fitful light, Sanglant saw the faces of the others, most of them regarding him with interest and mounting excitement. On the table around which they sat the leavings of their evening's feast congealed on platters of brass and pewter: chicken and goose bones; an eviscerated bread pudding with only the crusty sides and burned bottom left; fried griddle breads; small, sweet honey cakes; and berries flavored with a mint sauce—the kind of things easily prepared on the march.” Then even if Bulkezu strikes west, we'll still be in position to pursue him no matter where he rides before autumn rain and winter snows make the roads impassable."

Soldiers nodded. Lords and ladies murmured noises of assent. '

Bayan coughed, clearing his throat.” I have to piss," he said cheerfully, standing, "but how I hate to piss alone! Prince Sanglant, will you join me?"

Sanglant laughed.” Ah, my friend, what man could turn down such a proposal?"

He rose, drained his cup, and only staggered slightly as he made his way through the assembled crowd in Bayan's wake.

Bayan's boisterous humor vanished as soon as they got outside. His faithful Ungrian guards, the kind of hard, hearty men who would rousingly toast you with a beaker of strong ale one moment and beat you to a pulp the next if you offended their master, kept watch as Bayan strode over to the horse lines. He did his business quickly and waited, whistling softly under his breath, until Sanglant was done as well.

"Now, my friend," he said quietly, "we must have the talk."

"Ah, the talk. Which talk is that?"

"You are not a fool, my good friend. So I will not insult you with lies, but I will speak the truth."

"You're scaring me, Bayan. Are you going to tell me I have to sleep with Lady Brigida lest she take her retinue and ride home in a rage? I'd sooner sleep with Bulkezu than with her. Or maybe with her warhorse."

Bayan snorted, amused, but he shook his head and paced down toward the end of the horse lines, Sanglant following alongside, careful not to step in any fresh manure. The night was cloudy, although comfortably warm, lit only by sentry fires, the dozen lamps hung around the periphery of the royal tent, and the distant reddish flare of a bonfire burning away the remains of the dead at Machte-burg. South, Sanglant could see the scattered fires of the merchants'

camp up on the rise where the ancient ring fort lay.

"So." Bayan hadn't Sanglant's height but he was as broad through the shoulders, not at all gone to fat as some noblemen his age often did. He turned to face Sanglant squarely. In this dim light Sanglant could not make out his expression.” Do we agree that Bulkezu threatens Wendar?"

"Of course."

"This other cataclysm you have mentioned. But I cannot see it. The fire of Bulkezu's army burns too brightly before me. What does it matter if your sorcerers intrigue if we all are heads dangling from Quman belts?"

"True enough. What did you bring me out here to tell me?"

"Let us speak bluntly. She has not your charisma. She has not your prowess on the field, and not your intelligence. But you are a bastard, and I am Sapientia's husband. Henry named her as his heir, not you. What if you raise your sword and demand to lead the army? Maybe even you have no intention to cause her soldiers to stand behind your banner, but if you do so, then you shame her. If you shame her, she will have no choice except to withdraw. And so, my friend, will I."

"I'm not accustomed to being commanded by anyone except the king."

Bayan shrugged.” So. If there is to be no agreement between us, then we must split our armies."

"We have a better chance of defeating Bulkezu if we hit him with our forces combined. You know that as well as I do."

"So I do."

"And you know our wisest course, if what the Eagle says is true, is to ride west to Osterburg and use it as our base to hunt down Bulkezu's army."

"So I do. But I am the one who married the heir to Wendar and Varre. I did not marry her so that it falls to me to stand back and allow a bastard to command me. I mean no offense to your mother or yourself, you understand. I give you the truth because I respect you. I am knowing you well, Sanglant. You will do what is best for your father's realm."

The heady courage given him by too much strong wine made him reckless.” Do you know, Bayan, that my father wished me to marry Adelheid of Aosta and take the king's crown in Darre?"

"Your father is a wise man. You would have done well to heed him instead of running off after a witch. Then you would have been fighting in Aosta and Henry would stand here to drive out the Quman."

"Nay, my friend, it's not as simple as that. It's but a small step from reigning as king in Aosta to reigning as heir to the Holy Dariyan Emperor."

"This is only a story, I think. You are not married to Adelheid. Your father is.

You are not in Aosta, taking the king's crown. Your father is. That still leaves you and me out here, on this fine summer's night, taking a piss by the horses." He neatly sidestepped a pile of stinking manure, as graceful as ever. Bayan was not a man, Sanglant reflected, to challenge to a drinking contest.” Tell me what you intend, Sanglant. Will you contest your sister's authority? Or will you yield to her?"

"Ai, God! You ask too much!"

They had walked far enough that a nearby sentry fire illuminated Bayan's face as he smiled wryly, with the barest edge of anger, carefully honed.” Wendish pride."

A rent in the clouds revealed the quarter moon rising along the treetops. The charnel smell from the funeral pyre tainted the air as the wind shifted, then died.

Sanglant shook his head, but as much as he fought to remember what it had been like to be the King's Dragon, whose life was forfeit for Wendar's safety, he just could not go back, not anymore.” There's sense in what you say, but you ask too much. Am I to bow my head when I've never bowed before any person but my father? Not even for you, Bayan, and there's few people in this world I respect as well as I respect you."

That edged smile did not waver. Bayan's lips ticked up, briefly, as if in a spasm of anger, but he did not lose control.” I will not ask you to bow your noble head, even to me, although by right you ought to. But if our armies will join, then there can be only one commander. That one must be Sapientia."

"God have mercy, Bayan, let's not mince words, if you insist. That one may be Sapientia in name, but it will be you in fact. As it is now."

"So, how does this trouble you? You will have as much chance to influence her as I do, will you not?

Sanglant laughed harshly.” I'm not sleeping in her bed, God forgive me for suggesting such a thing."

"Bowing the head is not easy to learn, so I admit. Then let us here agree to defeat Bulkezu together. We go our separate ways after. Sapientia also is Margrave of Eastfall, I think you remember. When she becomes queen, I can persuade her to grant the mar-graviate of Eastfall into your care. I want Bulkezu dead. I want to drive the Quman back east where they belong. And so do you, Sanglant. If you did not, you would not be here now." They had reached the end of the horse lines and crossed now, by unspoken consent, toward the first line of sentries.” But I do not forget your Wendish pride."

"Nor your own damned Ungrian conceit."

"Henry accepted Ungria's offer, not Salia's. Thus did he choose a consort for to marry his eldest legitimate child."

The night air had finally cleared the cobwebs from his mind. He halted, tipping back his head to watch as clouds swirled over the face of the moon, hiding it again.” I never had a child before," he said softly.

"Now do you understand me?" Bayan stood beside him, also watching the moon as it slipped free of the cloud cover, a trembling light drifting hazily behind misty streamers of night haze.” A child of my blood will ascend to the throne of Wendar and Varre. Beware what words you teach your small daughter, Prince Sanglant. The great Emperor Taillefer has been dead for a long time. His power fled with him to the grave. But few, I think, forget the noble feast he presided over. Be cautious, I pray you, in

parading a child who has learned to say those sweet-smelling words, 'I am the heir of Emperor Taillefer.' The wolves are always hungry."

POOR Lord Manegold, vain and shallow, had to carry Bulkezu's standard when they rode down from their position on the ridgetop to the parley. He looked like he'd rather be dead, no matter how many encouraging words Ekkehard muttered privately to him before the prince was escorted away to wait nervously with an honor guard close around him, just to make sure he didn't attempt to escape.

The negotiations for the parley had taken an excruciating day conducted first through scouts, then through emissaries sent from camp to fort and back again with various demands, offers, and compromises.

Bulkezu went in full battle array, wings gleaming in the steady summer sunlight.

He descended from the ridge with one hundred picked riders at his back, Lord Manegold at the front holding up his standard, and Hanna beside him, her hands bound to make it clear she was his prisoner. Boso had dressed himself in the richest clothing he could scavenge, and he looked as ridiculous as a dog fitted out in a lord's cloak and jewels, trotting along at his master's heels.

Midway between the ridgeline and the outer palisade of the fort stood a large pavilion, sides raised up like wings to let the breeze through, the neutral ground on which both parties would meet. A force of one hundred mounted men waited beyond the pavilion.

Princess Theophanu had already arrived. Her face was as expressive as the blank mask-visor on Bulkezu's helmet. Only the crease of her mouth held a gleam of emotion, difficult to interpret, as they approached over the grass and crossed into the shade afforded by the raised wings of the tent.

The princess had Henry's cunning. Seated in a chair almost as elaborately carved as her father's traveling throne, she allowed Bulkezu to come before her as though he were a supplicant. Duke Conrad the Black fidgeted at her back with the same kind of restless energy Prince Sanglant had, a man who would rather be fighting than standing. There were, besides them, two noble companions in attendance, a richly-dressed girl of ten or twelve years of age who stood behind an empty chair placed next to Theo-phanu's, and three stewards ready to serve goblets of wine.

Bulkezu's riders halted the precise distance back from the pavilion as Theophanu's cavalry waited in the other direction. He rode forward with Hanna and Boso to his left, three of his captains to his right, and Cherbu at his back.

The wind moaned through the wings of his riders. Light rippled along iron coverts as the breeze coursed through his griffin wings, lifting a seductive melody into the air. He surveyed the positions of his troops, and of hers, the placement of her chair and of the one set ten paces away, facing her, that remained empty for him. With his helmet on, it was impossible to see his face.

He looked back toward Cherbu, and the shaman made a sign with his hand, briefly noted. Satisfied, Bulkezu pulled off his helmet and tossed it to one of his captains, who caught it neatly and tucked it under his arm.

Theophanu remained silent. Conrad watched, shifting restlessly as Bulkezu dismounted and indicated that Hanna and Boso should dismount as well. The second captain took their horses' reins and led them to one side, out of the way.

Hanna met Conrad's gaze briefly; the power of his physical body was mirrored in the keen strength of his gaze. He had very dark eyes, almost black, the legacy of his Jinna mother's ancestry. The girl rested a hand on the back of the chair while she examined Bulkezu with a scornful expression similar to that of the duke. By coloring and features, it was obvious that she was his daughter.

Boso stepped forward.” His Magnificence Prince Bulkezu hears your pleas with interest and a kind heart, and by reason of his generosity and liberality has chosen to hear you out rather than attack and destroy your army outright."

"He wants gold," muttered Conrad darkly.

Theophanu's expression did not change.” I pray you, Prince Bulkezu, please be seated and let my stewards serve you wine."

Boso translated while Bulkezu kept his gaze fixed on a point midway between Conrad and Theophanu, that remarkably believable look of blank incomprehension on his face. Once Boso had finished, Bulkezu gestured, and Boso hurried to fetch a folding stool. Saved from the abbot's chamber out of a burning monastery, the wooden stool had caught Bulkezu's fancy because of the griffin heads carved into either end of the side rails, each one plated with gold.

On this seat, Bulkezu deigned to sit. His wings rustled as he settled into place, refusing with a raised hand the silver goblet of wine brought forward by a stone-faced servant. Boso took it instead, draining it too quickly.

Conrad, at last, dropped down into the chair placed next to Theophanu. The three regarded each other in silence. Bulkezu had a slight smirk on his face.

At last, Theophanu spoke.” Tell your master that I prefer to negotiate bluntly.

We will offer him two thousand pounds of silver to leave Wendar and Varre."

By now, Hanna recognized a few of the words as Boso translated, but only a few; Bulkezu made no effort to teach his prisoners his language, thereby allowing Boso more authority over the slaves because he was the only go-between. Once Boso had finished, Bulkezu lifted a hand. His third captain hurried forward to offer him a gold cup filled to the brim with fermented mare's milk, which he sipped at thoughtfully before he replied.

Boso translated.” His Fearsomeness, Prince Bulkezu, wishes you to understand that your noble brother, Prince Ekkehard, is even at this moment a prisoner with his army. Here is his ring and his banner."

The ring was displayed, the banner unfurled, and then put away.

Duke Conrad muttered something under his breath, and his daughter patted her father on the shoulder and bent to whisper in his ear, an intimate gesture so endearing that Hanna was stricken by a sudden longing for her own father.

Theophanu's expression did not alter.” A ring and a banner can be taken off a dead body."

Boso was allowed a short whip, which he used on his whores and on recalcitrant slaves. It was his only weapon. He prodded Hanna with the butt of the whip now. This was why she had been brought.

She took a step forward.” I am known to you, I believe, my lord princess. I was taken captive west of Handelburg together with Prince Ekkehard and four of his companions. One of his retinue rides there." She had to gesture toward Manegold with her chin because her hands were tied.” I swear to you on my honor as a King's Eagle that Prince Ekkehard is alive and in Prince Bulkezu's hands."

Theophanu spoke softly to her stewards and they hurried forward to offer more wine, but Bulkezu again refused, and Boso again drained his cup.” Three thousand pounds of silver and one hundred gold nomias in exchange for your departure, and the return of Ekkehard and his companions." For the first time Theophanu acknowledged her presence, a glance, no more, that touched and fled, light as a feather.” And the Eagle."

Boso spoke. Bulkezu replied.” His Gloriousness will not ransom the Eagle. Five thousand pounds of silver and an equal measure of gold for the prince. And Duke Conrad's daughter, for his bed."

Conrad's head snapped around as his daughter stiffened, looking indignant and frightened. Abruptly, the interpreter gave a grunting moan, grasped his belly, and without a word or excuse to anyone bolted onto the grass. He hadn't gotten more than one hundred paces before he doubled over and began to retch.

Bulkezu sipped at his mare's milk. By the way his dimple flashed in and out on his cheek, Hanna could tell he was working very hard not to laugh.

"Good Lord," said Conrad, observing the stricken interpreter.” I'd heard rumors.

Do you think they've brought the plague with them?"

"You must consider it, Conrad," said Theophanu.” All the more reason to make short work of this. The girl in exchange for their departure."

He rose threateningly, dark cheeks changing color.” Marry him yourself, Theophanu. You've wanted a husband for a long time now."

"When my father returns—

"Tfyour father returns."

She went on as if he had not spoken.” When my father returns, I'll do my duty at his command. It's long past time for you to do

yours and give your daughter up where she's needed. Times are desperate."

"And will get more desperate still without my support." The angrier he got the louder he spoke; they had given up murmuring as they argued.” Why should I aid you, Theophanu? Why should I aid Wendar at all, now that your father seems determined to desert us in favor of chasing down imperial feasts into Aosta? He's stripped Wendar of its army, and cleaned out my warehouses and levies in Wayland, so what will you use to fight the invaders—"

"For God's sake, my lord and lady," Hanna cried, "he can understand every word you say!"

She had never known anyone to move that fast.

He hit her so hard across the face that she actually blacked out. Of the gap between the pain of the blow and the ground smashing into her shoulder, she remembered nothing. Acid burned in her throat. Lights danced in her vision. She couldn't feel her legs. Distantly, she heard Boso's wretched coughs as he heaved up again, and again.

"I would not try that, Duke Conrad," said Bulkezu pleasantly.” I'm protected from harm by a cloak of my brother's weaving. But I won't hesitate to signal if there's any trouble. I can have Prince Ekkehard's head delivered to you," he snapped his fingers, "like that, if you wish it. Perhaps you've noticed my companion on the march, who grants me her strength. Don't you recognize Judith of Austra?"

Hanna still couldn't make any of her limbs work, but her hearing had sharpened.

"Oh, my God," said Conrad.” For God's sake, Milo," he said in a low voice, "take my daughter back to the fort. At once." After a stifled protest, footsteps moved hastily away.

"I would grieve at my brother's death," said Theophanu smoothly, as if nothing untoward had happened, as if she and Conrad hadn't betrayed their secrets, as if Bulkezu hadn't walked them through the oldest trick in the ancient tales. As if Wendish quarreling weren't the greatest weakness of all, just as Bulkezu had said.” As I mourn for Margrave Judith. But alas, Prince Bulkezu, just so we understand each other, he is only King Henry's third child."

"His fourth, surely, or did one of the elder two die?"

Sensation returned to her fingers. She got her bound hands under her and pushed herself up. Her head spun, and she almost threw up as she got to her knees. Conrad and Theophanu became four, and then eight, and slowly receded back into two.

"I believe we have told you more than enough," said Theophanu, "without receiving anything in return. Give me the Eagle. She's of no possible use to you."

"How can you know what is of use to me?" He called an order in his own language. Her right eye was already swelling shut, and the whole right side of her face throbbed agonizingly. Dust kicked into her face as she coughed out spittle colored by blood. Hands grabbed her and jerked her roughly to her feet.

The fast movement was too much. She threw up, but the man holding her had no mercy. He simply dragged her away as she vomited. The world darkened as she fought unconsciousness.

Was that Theophanu, asking in that passionless voice to have the Eagle returned? All she could distinguish as the light hazed over and she gasped for air was Bulkezu's hated voice answering.

"Five thousand pounds of silver and one thousand of gold, and I'll ride past Barenberg with my army and leave it and the lands around it untouched."

She passed out.

She woke at the touch of hands pressing a poultice against her throbbing cheek.

The cool mash reeked of mustard, and it stung. She opened one eye. Struggled a moment, panicking, until she realized the other eye was swollen shut, not gouged out.

Cherbu sat next to her, humming under his breath. He held a cup to her lips.

Warm liquid steamed up her nose. The smell soothed her headache. Sipping, she got a bit of the broth down without feeling queasy, was even able to lever herself up and swallow the rest. The light in the small tent had splintered into dozens of colors. It took her a moment to realize that she was lying inside the shaman's patchwork tent, on a sheepskin. The ground lurched violently under her, and the patchwork ceiling swayed as they began to move.

Cherbu slipped out through the tent flap and leaped down. She caught sight of mounted men, a tree lurching past, and the sun shining through leaves before the tent flap slapped back into place. The wagon jolted on; despite the jerky motion, she fell into a fit ful doze, starting awake whenever she was flung to one side or the Other because of a hole or bump. At intervals Cherbu returned to change her poultice or give her a fresh infusion of broth. Strangely, j despite the uncomfortable journey, she felt increasingly better as the day wore on and could even eventually crack open her right eye.

She felt, in truth, mildly optimistic when the wagon lumbered to a halt and she heard the familiar noises of folk moving about setting up camp. She peeled the poultice off her face before gingerly climbing out of the back of the wagon. She needed to pee, and wanted to get a look around.

Her legs and arms worked. Her face still hurt, but she could actually open and shut her eye and squinch up her cheek without much pain. She found enough privacy around at the front of the wagon to do her business, then surveyed the situation, the placement of the army, herds, and captives in a broad clearing surrounded by forest.

Maybe there was a chance they had forgotten about her.

Maybe not.

There came Cherbu with a cup of steaming broth. She drank it gratefully.

Hunger stirred; her belly growled softly. Cherbu beckoned, and she followed him to the round tent surmounted by the Pechanek banner. Bulkezu strolled out to meet her with a smirk on his face, a cold light in his gaze, and, amazingly, Boso at his side.

The interpreter looked much improved, remarkably so, since she had last seen him throwing up during the parley, but perhaps it was only glee over her impending punishment.” Be afraid, woman. His Dreadfulness has had enough of your disobedience and disrespectful words."

Was it actually possible that Boso hadn't realized what had happened at the parlay? Didn't he know that Bulkezu could understand him? Or was she the fool, thinking all along that Boso hadn't known? She staggered, head swimming, and fought to keep her balance, to keep her dignity.

"His patience is at an end because you've made him very angry."

A cold fear crept into her gut as the silence dragged out. A few slaves stopped to stare, but Bulkezu's guards chased them away. He wasn't one for the big public gesture, not like the Wendish nobles, who raised up and threw down their favorites in the middle of court so that everyone could see. He was a man who kept his grudges personal.

Boso actually sniggered; so aroused was he by the expectation of her imminent downfall that he forgot to be sarcastic.” You can keep your clothes and your Eagle's cloak, so no one forgets who you are. But all other protections Prince Bulkezu withdraws."

She found her voice, hoarse as it was.” You mean he's going to hand me over to Princess Theophanu?"

Boso guffawed, giggling helplessly. Bulkezu's expression didn't change. Four guards came forward. If she fought, they'd see how desperately frightened she was. Hadn't Sorgatani's luck protected her? Wouldn't the Kerayit shaman watch over her? She looked toward Cherbu, but he had already wandered away into the trees.

Had she really believed in any savior but Bulkezu's whim, which had now turned cold?

"You thought yourself better than the rest," said Boso.

"No more than did you," she murmured, but she could barely get the words out.

It hurt to talk. The impassive guards moved in around her, lances raised. She took a step back, flushed and perspiring as the sun slid out from behind the clouds and beat down upon her.

They advanced, and she retreated, step by step, until she realized that they were driving her, as they would drive a cow or a ewe, back to the miserable crowd of prisoners scattered like so many wilting flowers through the clearing.

No longer was she Bulkezu's honored hostage, his model prisoner. She was just one more hapless captive left to stagger along in the wake of the army, one short step in front of the lances of the rear guard.

Most of the captives had collapsed in the grass, trying to cover their heads against the glare of the sun. Few had survived the night of the slaughter, and perhaps because of that, the plague had not surfaced again in the train of Bulkezu's army. He had raced ahead, leaving the plague behind, but he still took prisoners and he still dragged them along for his amusement, for his assaults, for whatever sick reason he had, if he had reasons at all beyond laying waste.

A few, those not yet so weakened by their ordeal that they no ticed nothing beyond the next sip of gruel, raised themselves up to watch as Hanna was pressed back into their midst.

More than anything, she noticed the stink of so many unwashed bodies, open sores, pools of diarrhea and urine and vomit spreading from those too sick to crawl away from their own sickness, all of it a sink of despair. Flies buzzed everywhere, feasting on infected eyes and filth-encrusted hands. Surely plague was hiding here, waiting to burst out again as it had that awful night.

Ai, God, if truth be told, she was more afraid of the plague than she was of Bulkezu.

A man sporting a black-and-blue eye and drooping folds of flesh at his chin heaved himself up from the ground and spat at her.” Whore! I see you got what you deserved at long last. I hope you got pleasure of what that demon gave you, while he was giving, because you'll get no such pleasure here."

His comrade, a tall man dressed in rags, lurched forward to grab for her.” I'd like a taste of his leavings!" He got a hand on her shoulder.

She ducked, by some miracle found a stout stick in the grass, and whacked him across the face. He was a lot bigger than she was, but she'd been eating and he hadn't. Staggering, he stumbled back and sat down hard. Pain stabbed through her cheek, but she dared show no weakness.

Yet no one laughed, or protested, or reacted at all. Most of them were too ill and exhausted even to care, even to hate. The Quman guards moved off, leaving her standing in the midst of the pack with a pounding headache and a swollen face.

"I am also a prisoner, a commoner from Wendar, just as you are. A King's Eagle, taken captive in the east—

Even a starving man can feed on hate, if he's nothing left to him.

"Whore and traitor," said one of the women listlessly. She had a bundle of dirty rags clutched to her chest, but it was only when she shifted that Hanna saw she held a sickly child, eyes crusted shut with dried pus. Flies crawled over the child's pallid face, but neither it nor its mother had enough strength to brush them away.

In the distance a river ran noisily. She smelled water, although the trees hid it from view. Most of the prisoners were looking at her now. Good Wendish folk, just like her.

The tall man coughed and braced himself on his hands as he caught his breath.

When he grinned, she saw that all of his front teeth were missing.” You'll have to sleep sometime."

She spoke to the others.” Don't you see? The more we quarrel among ourselves, the easier his victories come."

No one answered. After a bit, the tall man and his companion dragged themselves off to the edge of the group. As for the rest, they were too weary, too hungry, and too apathetic to do anything but lie back down on the ground and close their eyes.

The Quman guards did not stop her as she gathered grass and, after several abortive attempts, wove a shallow basket and lined it with leaves. They shadowed her as she made her way through a narrow patch of woodland to the river's shore and knelt in the shallows. Upstream she saw only forest, but far downstream she saw a line of smoke rising into the sky.

Had Bulkezu taken Theophanu's bribe and ridden on, bypassing Barenberg?

There had been no battle today, and this river looked broad enough to be the mighty Veser, flowing north toward the Amber Sea.

The basket held water well enough that she could carry it around to those folk too exhausted, or too afraid of the Quman, to walk to the river themselves. Best to start with the weak ones. They hadn't the strength to spit at her and were usually grateful for the water.

When she brought it to the mother with the sick child, she met suspicion first.

"What do you want with me, whore?" asked the woman, shrinking away.”

Haven't I been punished enough by the beast?"

"I'm a prisoner like you," Hanna repeated.” It's true I've been treated better, and fed, and allowed to ride. But that's not because I'm the prince's whore—

"The Wendish prince?" The woman's spirit flared as anger gave her strength.”

Some say it's the king's son himself who rides with the beast. Is it true?"

This was hardly the way to convince these poor souls that she wasn't a traitor, too, but Hanna saw no reason to lie to them about his identity.” Yes, it's Ekkehard, son of Henry."

The woman spat. Perhaps she'd been passed over by the Quman soldiers because of the wart on her nose and lice-ridden hair, or CHILD or FLAME perhaps she'd simply been raped and discarded during the attack on whatever doomed village she had once lived in.

"A royal son like that would be better dead than a traitor." But she accepted a sip of water. The child, too, drank, but he couldn't open his eyes. His whimpers tore at Hanna's heart.

"Here. I'll soak a corner of my cloak in water and maybe we can clean his face."

"If you wish," said the woman in a dull voice, "but he'll die anyway. My poor baby. Nothing can save us now. If the beast and his men don't kill us, then hunger will. Or the plague. I heard there's plague everywhere south of us now.

So maybe it is God's mercy on us for living a Godly life."

"How can you say so?" demanded Hanna, aghast.

"Better to die of hunger or have your throat slit than to die of the plague. Have you seen what they look like after? I heard it from my cousin. She'd seen it, one man, two years back. He died outside her village and they let the dogs eat him.

None of them touched him, not even the deacon. She said you shake and turn gray, and dying people scream that they're being eaten alive from inside, there's so much pain. Then the demon inside you spits you al out, through your mouth and nose and eyes, through your skin and your asshole, all blood and snot and shit and every stinking thing that it's eaten out of you and chewed with its poison—

"That's enough!" said Hanna sharply. People had crept close to listen and some had begun to moan in fear.” No use catching your death standing out waiting for the snow when there's nothing you can do to stop it whether it comes or not.

That's what my mother always says."

"Is your mother still alive?" asked one of the prisoners.

"I pray she is. She's in North Mark—

"Ah," said a thin old man with a spark of curiosity left in his expression.” That would explain your accent and that light hair. How'd you come to be a King's Eagle?"

"The same way any do, I suppose. They were looking, and I was available."

This earned her a few chuckles as she continued to wipe the child's face, trying to moisten the crust around his eyes enough so that she could wipe it off without hurting him.

"What got you captured, then?" demanded the mother.

About fifty people had clustered close to watch and listen. The two men who had assaulted her sidled in as well, staring with a bitter, unsparing hatred, as if she were responsible for everything they had suffered and lost.

"I was riding from the east last winter. I left Handelburg at the order of Princess Sapientia, she who is heir to King Henry, to bring word to him of the Quman invasion. I was caught out in a snowstorm, in a forest, and was myself captured by the Quman."

"You've been with the beast all this time?"

She didn't see who had asked that question.” So I have," she admitted, wetting the corner of her cloak in water again, trying to squeeze the caked gunk off it.

The tall man pressed forward. He'd found a stick, too, although he used it to support his weight.” And you didn't whore with the beast all that time? How then are you so clean and fat, Eagle? Where did you get that ring?"

Quicker than she'd thought possible, he struck. His first blow glanced off the side of her head. She fell hard as the mother screamed, and the jolt when she caught herself on her arms sent pain stabbing into her injured eye. Head stinging like fire, she groped for and found her stick and brought it up just in time to catch his next blow on wood. Her stick shattered, and she scrambled backward, crablike, as his stick thwacked down in the grass first to her right and then to her left.

He raised it again. Fury knotted in her stomach. She threw herself forward and slammed into him, knocking him down. They wrestled. A thistle prickled on her back, and she flipped him over and jammed him face down into it. He shrieked, shuddered, and fell stil .

Thank God for all that fighting with her elder brother Thancmar. Thank God her adversary had been so weakened by hunger. Breathing hard, she grabbed his unbroken stick and rose, staring down his trembling companion. Beyond, the Quman guards watched impassively, arms crossed.

Her face throbbed.

What had happened to Bulkezu's promise to the owl's master to see that she came to no harm? Blood leaked from her temple where the stick had caught her, and her ear throbbed painfully.

"I'm a King's Eagle, damn you," she said harshly, "and I received this ring from King Henry's own hand in recognition of my service to him. What you do to me is as if you were doing it to the king himself."

"Where's the king, then?" Tall Man's comrade confronted her. Now that he stood, she could see by the way his tunic hung on him hew much flesh he'd lost.” Why hasn't the king come to aid us?"

His words were echoed by other prisoners, many more of whom slunk closer to see what the commotion was all about.” Where is the king while we're suffering here?"

"I don't know," she admitted. But she had a good idea where he might be, and she didn't want to tell these people that particular story. The crown of Emperor Taillefer would seem a sorry treasure to them who had lost everything, had watched their homes burned, their fields trampled, their daughters and sisters being raped, and their townsfolk slaughtered.” I don't know. But I know this, my friends. We'll all die if the strongest among us don't help the weakest."

"Easy for you to say, eating like a queen and sleeping between the beast's silks.

Maybe he threw you out now, but that doesn't change what you were before."

She pointed the stick at him and let the end press against his sternum, pushing hard enough that he skipped back a half step. No one laughed, or even spoke.

They had fallen silent.” It's true I ate the food he gave me, and ate better than any of you have. But I never slept between his silks. He never raped me." She let the stick fall to her side, keeping it ready for a fast strike, and turned so they could all see her Eagle's badge.” He didn't dare touch me." She hesitated. A complicated kind of hope and cynicism warred in their expressions. What did these folk know of Kerayit women and shamans who had the body of a woman joined with that of a mare? "He didn't dare touch me because he didn't dare insult King Henry. For what he does to me it's as if he does it to the king himself.

He knows in the end that the king wil have revenge. For me. For all of us."

As would she, by God.

At that instant, she knew what she had to do. Bulkezu had forgotten one thing when he'd thrown her out of his tent.

"But the king needs our help. And I need yours."

The guards did not stop her as she gathered firewood at the fringe of the forest, although maybe they thought she was crazy for thinking of building a fire on such a hot day, especially when she had nothing to eat. Twilight closed over them as she laid sticks for a fire. Wool thread teased off the sleeve of her tunic made a bowstring and a supple branch the tiny bow, wood scraps and dry leaves the tinder, and a notched wedge of wood a cup for her hand. With the bowstring looped around a stick, she drilled the end of that stick into the tinder until friction woke heat, heat smoke, and smoke fire.

Flames licked up through the kindling. Prisoners gathered around, as many as could stand doing so in order to block the view of the Quman guards, and the old man began telling a story.

"Here we begin by telling the tale of Sigisfrid, who won the gold of the Hevelli.

He was born out of a she-wolf and a warrior—

Hanna sat cross-legged by the fire, letting the tale drift past her, riding the flow of the words. Under Bulkezu's constant watch, she dared not use her Eagle's sight. But here, among the prisoners, she was free.

"See nothing, not even the flames,” Wolfhere had told her.” It is the stillness that lies at the heart of all things that links us.”

"Liath," she whispered. The fire wavered, and for a moment she saw faint shadows of men clothed in armor, she heard the clash of arms, but the vision faded into the snap of flame. Liath remained hidden from her. Was she dead?

Was everyone she cared for dead?

"Ai, God," she whispered, "can I not find you, Ivar? Where have you gone?"

A new log made the fire flare with blue streaks of heat, hot and bright. Were there women moving in the flames? Queens walked under a grave mound, one young, one old, and one as golden as the sun, but they held out empty hands and by the hard flint gleam in their eyes she knew them for the old gods, the Huntress, the Fat One, and the Toothless Hag who cuts the thread of life.

Ivar was lost to her.

For a while she sat mired in grief while some other hand fed the flame and the fire burned merrily on, twisting and popping.

She is the owl, gliding over the treetops, searching for the one she has lost. The streaming wind carries her far to the east, to the

land where the grass grows as high as a man. Two griffins stalk at the edge of sand, closing in on their prey.

Tents shimmer in the distance, but it is the woman wandering on the shore of the desert who catches her eye. Here, among the Bwr-folk, Sorga ani has no t

need of veils or concealment. As she walks, she speaks passionately to her companion.

Hanna has never before seen the Bwr shaman so clearly: her glossy gray mare's coat and the creamy color of her woman's skin. Her face and upper body are striped with green-and-gold paint. Pointed ears, tufted with coarse black hair, peek out through her unbound hair which falls like silver water all the way to the place where her torso slips easily from a woman's hips into a mare's shoulders.

She holds a bow in her hands, the horn curve carved with the semblance of pale dragons.

"Why can we not attack?" Sorgatani is saying fiercely, hands gesturing wildly.”

He spits on us by holding her prisoner.”

"She had a chance to come to you," replies her companion.” Now she suffers the fate she chose.”

"Is there noway to rescue her? Is our magic of so little use?"

"Do not forget that magic protects him as well.” She shakes her head as might a cleric surveying the ruins of her once magnificent church.” We are not what we were. Our numbers are much diminished because of the plague. Now is our time of greatest weakness, so we must use caution. We dare not reveal ourselves too soon. But do not fear—" She glances up, her gaze sharp as an arrow.” Who watches ? "

In that moment it took her to inhale a gasp and let it out again, Hanna sees Wolfhere, brow furrowed, staring at her through the flames.

He is gone as though a hand wiped him clean of a slat f

e. Lamps bum, brighter

points of light within the leaping fire.

A familiar voice is speaking. She had heard it so often that it takes her several breaths to get over her surprise that, after all these months, she is listening to Prince Bayan.” If it is true Bulkezu rides north along the Veser, then what prevents him from swinging wide, around this city, and going on his merry way, as Prince Sanglant says? Bulkezu can leave a force of small size camped outside the walls, and with this force he can trick Duchess Rotrudis so she will believe he sets a siege at her gates. Then, if she so believes, she will not har y him unt r

il for

her and for Saony it is too late."

Hazy figures too indistinct to see clearly shift within the fire. She can make out none of their faces, but the man who speaks next she recognizes immediately as Sanglant.” And he can do as much damage as he likes. Or he could strike west before he even reaches Osterburg and go for Kassel or the Rhowne heartlands near Autun. The best we could hope for in that case would be that he drives all the way to the western sea and spends his fury laying waste to ^alia."

" What do you think we should do, Prince Sanglant? " How have they all come together? How many have gathe ed? For

r

surely that voice belongs to Captain

Thiadbold, of the Lions. Seated figures obscure him, a host of grim warriors holding a council of war. Lamplight shoots blinding lances across her vision, so that all she can do is hear.

"I say we march hard and try to reach Osterburg befo e

r he does."

His words fade as a hand catches her shoulder and draws her backward. Briefly, so briefly, she sees a black-haired child asleep on a bed of furs, and it seems as though aflame bums at the child's heart, blue-white and almost a living thing, nvisting and hissing.

"Liath," she whispered, starting out of her trance as the hissing rose in pitch.

She fell back and caught herself on her hands.

Cherbu sat on the other side of the fire, whistling death onto the fire. Flames curled and died, subsiding into red coals. Ash settled. A cool wind stirred the forest. Far away, a wolf howled despairingly.

"So." Bulkezu crouched behind her, his hand gripping her shoulder. This time, he wasn't going to let go until he got what he wanted.” Where is she?"

The prisoners had all slunk away or pretended to sleep. She could scarcely blame them for abandoning her to those whom they had no power to resist. No doubt they were happy to have escaped punishment. The night guards stood farther back, half hidden by darkness. That she could see them at all was because of the waxing quarter moon, riding high over the treetops.

A scarecrow danced under the nearest tree, dangling from a rope. Nay, not a scarecrow but a man. She recognized him by his clothing: Boso, hanged by the neck.

An owl hooted, but although she glanced past the swaying corpse, she saw no sign of the bird. Maybe that sound was only a lingering hallucination from the vision seen through fire.

Maybe hope woven together with fear made you see those half truths that made living bearable, when otherwise you would only lie down and die.

Bulkezu spoke again, and this time his hand tightened on her shoulder. His breath, sweetened by mint, tickled the side of her face that he had bruised.”

Where is Liathano, the sorcerer who can raise such a fire that it consumes an entire palace?"

Trapped. Beaten. Maybe it had all been a trick to force her to reveal what slight power she had, the knowledge called Eagle's sight.

She fell forward to hide her face in her hands. She knew her shoulders were shaking, shuddering. Pray that he believed it was utter defeat convulsing her.

She thought hard about Ivar, the way he had laughed at his own stupid jokes, the time they had hidden in the branches of the lovers' oak and rained a basketful of pine needles down on her brother Thancmar and his sweetheart, the expedition to old Johan's house to recapture the russet chicken, endless races in the meadow, the first and only time he kissed her, before Liath came, before Liath had unwittingly ensnared him.

When there were enough tears, she lowered her hands.

"Osterburg," she whispered.” She's at'Osterburg."

INTO THE DARKNESS

HORN was dead, and her spirit had vanished into the darkness. As keening and crying broke out, Adica struggled to stay calm. Was that Horn's soul she had seen, twisting upward? Had she really heard Shu-Sha's booming voice? Had they any chance of defeating the Cursed Ones if the Holy One had been taken prisoner? Alain knelt beside Horn's body, but before he could touch the slack corpse, her young apprentice yanked his hand away.

"Shu-Sha calls for our aid," said Two Fingers.” Yet how can it •be that she has called to us over such a great distance, using Horn's body?"

There was no time to ponder such questions.” We must go quickly if we are to have any chance to save the Holy One," said Adica.” Horn said there was a path we could take."

Two of Horn's people came forward and spoke in low voices to Laoina.” Come,"

said the Akka woman. She led them into a tunnel, torches bobbing alongside.

Two Fingers examined Alain's injured hand by torchlight. He shook his head, raising a puzzled eyebrow.” It heals," he said, before turning to grasp Adica's hands in his own.” Weave well, little sister." Then he was gone, so fast, and the light vanished with him. Probably she would never see him again. She caught in a gasp of pain. The darkness was like claws, tearing at her, exposing the fear she had so ruthlessly shoved away all this time. She struggled to fight it back down, to seal it up so that it would not betray her.

In the darkness, Laoina spoke in the tongue of Horn's people and was answered by a man. She translated.” This person has come to guide us. We must climb down into the heart of the Earth. There lie paths unknown to humankind, where the Bent People live. They are the ones who can guide us on unseen roads to the fort of Shu-Sha's tribe." Another hurried dialogue ensued, and Laoina went on.” This man says, where we go, dogs cannot follow. Dogs we must leave."

Alain did not raise his voice.” I will not leave them." Laoina sighed sharply as the unseen man replied.” He says you must stay here, then."

Would Alain leave her to stay with the dogs? Adica thrust the ugly thought aside.” I won't go on if he does not. Let a way be made to bring the dogs with us."

An argument ensued. Other voices joined in, whispers cutting in from the darkness.

"They are not liking this stubbornness," explained Laoina.” They say they understand the mountain roads and you do not. They ask, do you mean to jeopardize all the coming generations of humankind for the sake of two dogs and this man?"

"Who can say they are not more important than you and I can know?" Her own teacher had spoken with this imperious tone, and many of the people in the Deer tribes had resented her for it even while fearing her. Adica had chosen a different way, but now she fell back on what she knew would work.” Are we to leave behind a man who can be seen by an eye that is blind to the mortal world?

If he must walk only with spirit guides, then so be it. Find a way it can be done, and do it quickly."

There was silence, followed by Laoina's soft translation. Footsteps padded away, unseen.” They beg your pardon, Holy One. We must wait while they fetch what we will need."

Alain put his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest.

closed her eyes, wanting peace even for a brief while. He said nothing; he did not need to. He would stay with her until the end. That was what the Holy One had promised her. Sorrow and Rage pushed against her, moist noses slipping between the braided cords of her skirt to wet her skin. Laoina shifted, tapping at the floor with the butt of her spear as she waited. The erratic rhythm lulled Adica. Alain's body was so solid against hers. He hummed softly, as patient as the wind.

Let her fall forever into this moment and none other, let all that came before and all that would come after not exist, only this. She dozed, or slipped into a vision; in the darkness it was hard to tell.

She walks into a blazing hall of light. Brightly dressed people throng the hall.

They are so many that she cannot count them, far more even than all the folk who live in her village. How can a single building be so large that it can hold such a crowd? Their speech, their songs, the platters on which they eat, the tide of food flowing in and out of the hall, all this overwhelms her. Surely she has fallen into the Fat One's hall, overflowing with plenty. She never thought it would look so bewildering, a path with no landmarks she can recognize.

Yet there is one other wandering like a lost soul through the hall, unseen by any of the feasting multitude. At first she believes it is another woman, naked except for the bow she holds in her hand and a single arrow fletched with a phoenix's feather. Naked except for her hair, hanging like a veil across her torso. A ring blazes with blue-white fire on her hand.

Then she recognizes her mistake. It is not a woman but a creature of flame in whose heart burns a blue-hot fire as bright as the blazing ring.

Then she recognizes her mistake. The stranger is woman and "fire both; one cannot be untangled from the other.

Sorrow's warning bark woke her. Her left foot, wedged against the wall, had fallen asleep. She stamped it until it stopped tingling, turning the dream over in her mind. She could find no hidden meaning in it. Best to let it rest for now.

"Come," said Laoina.

They made their way without lights along a tunnel that sloped steadily downward. The barest luminescence gleamed along the walls, fungus growing on knobs of rock. The growth gave off just

enough light so that she could see her feet and hands and the dim figures of the others, walking before and behind her. Their guide was a man, lightly dressed, as thin as a reed. The tunnel ended abruptly at the lip of an abyss wherea~flirnsy woven ladder vanished into the chasm.

"How do we get the dogs down?" asked Laoina.

The guide lit two torches before bringing out rope. A series of ladders linked ledge to ledge down a cliff face so vast that the meager glow from the torches only made the cavern and rock wall bulk ominously beyond the frail arc of light.

It was a laborious task to lower the dogs from one ledge down to the next, especially having to light their way with torches, swaying at the ends of rope, that spat pitch and burning flakes of ash at erratic intervals. Alain did most of the work, never complaining despite the pain it must cause his healing hand. Adica took her turn as well, bracing, paying out line, catching the big bodies and letting them down onto narrow ledges, some of which were small enough that two people couldn't stand one beside the other. Her arms ached and her back was a belt of pain by the time they reached the bottom. A spark of hot ash stung her eyelid. The only mercy was that the dogs, perhaps aware of their predicament, were as gentle as lambs. If only they had weighed as little.

But Alain would never have left the dogs behind. Nor would he ever abandon her.

As soon as they were all safely to the bottom, the guide extinguished the torches anxiously, as though their light was a forbidden luxury. Laoina whispered prayers, and Alain spoke softly to the dogs in his own language. Deep within the earth, the sweat cooled on her body and she shivered as a breeze brushed her face. As warm as dragon's breath and just as sulfurous, that breeze made her light-headed. To think even for a moment of the mountain of earth above her was to panic. How could air alone hold up heavy rocks and the weight of spans of earth? Surely it must all come tumbling down on top of her head. Fumes danced around her head. Spots of light flashed into existence and winked out, disorienting her.

In the instant when one of those lightning flashes illuminated the night, she saw the guide kneeling before the cliff face as though he prayed. He made a strange movement with one arm. Chimes rang out high and sweet.

Light flooded the chasm.

She shielded her eyes, blinking furiously, blind. As abruptly, the light vanished.

The dogs barked. A body bumped into her.

"Holy One." The honorific sounded much the same in any language, even squeezed by fear as it was now. He slipped an armband over her hand and up past her elbow.

"He says, you must give this to what creature comes to the summons, and tell them of Horn's wishes." Laoina's voice shook as she translated. Adica had never heard her sound so frightened.” Then they must do as Horn wishes. That is the bargain."

"What creature—?"

He scurried away without answering. She heard him scrambling up the ladder.

"He abandoned us," whispered Laoina hoarsely.

"What does he fear?" asked Alain out of the darkness.

The air eddied around them as unseen things set in motion whirled into life. The sulfurous breath of the underground wind blew hot in her face, and she coughed until her eyes watered. Light bloomed. That glow came in part from the armband she wore, twin to the armband now gleaming softly on Alain's arm, "Skrolin," she whispered.

"Look!" Laoina stood clearly visible in the soft lighti The beads woven in her braids gleamed eerily. She pointed toward a low tunnel so smoothly faced and perfectly ovoid that fear kicked Adica in the gut. This was no natural tunnel.

Someone had shaped it.

Sorrow and Rage growled, standing stiffly, ears alert. A bubble of light expanded out of the tunnel. No human creature held that lamp, and no flame known to human folk or their Hallowed Ones burned within the globe the creature carried, dangling from a chain. Laoina dropped to her knees. The dogs lunged, but Alain caught them by their collars and dragged them back with all his strength, straining and cursing.

Adica had seen so many marvels that one more could not jolt her. She had known since she was a child that many strange and unknowable creatures walked the Earth, and that humankind was young to the land. She had glimpsed the skrolin in the tunnels

when the Cursed Ones had kidnapped her, but she had never seen one as close and as clearly as she did now.

The grotesque figure came to a halt before them. Bent and gnarled, it did not have skin as humans had skin, nor was it scaled like the lizards and snakes that crawl along the ground. Its skin glittered the way granite did when caught in sunlight; leprous growths more like crystalline rocks or salt cones than a scabrous disease encrusted that skin. The pale bulges that seemed to be its eyes clouded and cleared as if mist boiled within. Bent and gnarled, it wore an assortment of chimes and charms which rang softly as the spherical lamp swayed back and forth at the end of its chain.

She found her voice.” We have come from my sister, known to me as Horn."

She extended her arm to display the armband. Without any acknowledgment, the creature turned and walked with a rolling gait back into the tunnel.

"So much unknown to me lives here in this country," murmured Alain. As the light receded, they followed down this smoothly surfaced tunnel road. Adica had never seen a path so straight and so easy. The creature leading them did not look back. They walked for a long time until without warning the tunnel ended on a ledge bordered by a railing that brought them up short.

Nothing in her life or experience, not even that one sight she had had years before of the great city built by the Cursed Ones, had prepared her for the vista that opened before her now. The skrolin lived not in dank and dark caves in the ground but in a city so vast and complicated that it made the great temples and palaces and gardens built by the Cursed Ones look like crude models fashioned by children. Just as mice might gnaw a maze of tunnels through a round of hard cheese, opening up the very heart of the cheese as they nibbled outward, so the skrolin had fashioned their city into and out of the rock itself, that made up the heart of the Earth.

Their guide fingered a series of bumps and grooves carved into the railing; a gate swung open to reveal a stairway carved into the cliff. Down these steps they descended into a labyrinth of pillars and archways clothed in jewels.

Caverns spun one off the next as though an ancient hand had woven thread into stone. No surface was unpolished, and so many patterns and markings had been in cised into every sloping wall that she thought it must be a language read by fingers. Indeed, their guide kept a hand in contact with these surfaces, its fingers rubbing and tapping in a complicated code.

They did not walk far before their guide steered them to a vessel that looked like a giant shell scoured clean and fitted out with pearlescent benches. It took all three of them to hoist up the dogs, and they clambered in uneasily after.

Their guide hopped over the high side with unexpected grace to take its place at the stem of the vessel.

The vessel lifted right up off the ground. Laoina yelped in surprise. Alain gasped out loud as he steadied himself on the backs of the dogs. Adica bit her lip rather than make a sound; she didn't want their guide to think that she, a holy woman, was awed by their magic.

But she was: stunned and even terrified as they floated through the cavernous city. It seemed to stretch on forever, winding corridors, lengths of dark tunnel that opened at intervals into caverns born out of a thousand prickling lights or streaked with veins of gold and copper. This was mystery and power displayed on a scale so vast she could not comprehend it.

How had she ever thought the Cursed Ones powerful? They were as children, compared to this.

The guide's eyes—if they were eyes—remained turned away from them. Even their awe did not interest it. Yet Adica did not feel unwatched. The many adornments, bits of metal, rods of silver, square plates of gold that flashed and winked when any light diffused over them, seemed alert. Adica sensed magic hoarded within them, a mute life, aware but unspeaking. A few of the skrolin they passed halted to regard them as one might a curiosity, but most hurried on their way uncaring. She saw none performing any manner of work she recognized: no one scraped hides, gutted fish, wove baskets, built pots, or chipped obsidian into tools. She saw nothing resembling the magic of the smiths, who worked with fire blazing as they wrought sorcery into copper and tin. She saw no fields, nor flocks, but when they came at last to a vast river whose banks were chiseled out of the rock itself, she saw a thing she could finally recognize, built on such a vast scale that it took her breath away.

"Truly," Laoina muttered, clenching her hand until her knuckles whitened, "there is more to this world than I ever dreamed."

Adica knew a market fair when she saw one. The wood henge was the market for all the Deer tribes, where they gathered at the great festivals, three times a year. Peddlers and merchants might linger for days or even weeks at the Festival of the Sun as people gained time free from their fields and flocks to trade. One time, when Adica had been a child, the Horse people had come to the midsummer fair. Their tents and wagons had made of the henge a vast fair unlike ariy other she had seen, exotic and colorful, and folk had lingered there long past the usual seven days of meeting, but soon afterward the first of the raids made by the Cursed Ones had come, and the Horse people had never traveled so far west again. Adica had also seen the lively market of Shu-Sha's city before it was burned by the Cursed Ones, and she had seen, from a distance, the great slave market where the Cursed Ones sold and bought human slaves.

Was it possible that all those other markets were but shadows of this one? Here, along this river, lay a market built out of stone, a long avenue fronted on one side by a cunningly paved road and, on the other, by the river. For the river was also a road for those who traveled its ways as easily as a human walked a path.

The skrolin were trading with the merfolk. Could it be that skrolin and merfolk alike lived lives completely oblivious to what took place beyond sea and cave?

What merchandise passed from hand to hand she could not see; the vessel did not slacken its pace except to accommodate the flow of crowds who at intervals crossed the thoroughfare where other vessels such as this one skimmed past. A long wharf, decorated with shells and mosaics on the riverside and soaring into archways and pillars carved like elongated dragons on the land side, marked the border where the two folk came together. In troughs cut into the wharf, merfolk lounged at their ease, eellike hair writhing languidly around their heads. The skrolin, who looked quite dry and encrusted next to the sleek, moist forms of the merfolk, crouched comfortably on their squat legs next to low tables and basins in which, it appeared, merchandise was displayed. The only light illuminating this scene emanated from the stone itself, so diffuse and cool that it felt murky, like looking through water.

In a way, the cloudy light made the vista seem more dream than real, like that city seen beneath the sea, too strange to comprehend.

Adica could not have run the length of the marketplace without becoming winded, but it did come to an end at last. Alain had not uttered one word, only stared, while Laoina muttered imprecations and prayers under her breath. The only noise their skrolin guide made came from the tinkling of the adornments hanging from its body.

At last, they turned away from the river to quieter venues, stopped deep in shadow. Their guide disembarked before a simple stone structure, longer than it was wide. A second skrolin emerged from the building. The two communicated by tapping each other so rapidly that in the dim light Adica could not make out the individual movements of their fingers. Then their guide shooed them out of the vessel, rather like pesky rats being swept out of a clean house, before it climbed back into the shell and vanished into the darkness.

"You are the animals who live in the Blinding." The skrolin's voice grated like rocks. Words came awkwardly to it, and although it spoke in the language of Horn's people, Laoina had a hard time understanding its pronunciation. But no Walking One succeeded without a good ear. Whatever fear and awe Laoina felt, she did what was expected of her.

"We are not animals but human, people like yourself." Adica displayed the armband before touching the other jewelry she wore to show that her people, too, had the skill of making.

"So is our bargain, that we must help you because of the child who was lost."

With a delicate claw it brushed the armband she wore.” What wish you of us? In haste, we give you what you need so you may leave."

"Passage to the land of the tribe of Shu-Sha, which borders the lands of the Cursed Ones."

Without warning, the skrolin turned and shuffled into the stone house. The door shut in Adica's face as she tried to follow; it bore no latch she could see, nothing to pry open. Smooth as wood, its

surface had the grain of rock but she suspected it was neither substance.

"With such allies, surely we could defeat the Cursed Ones," she said.

"I knew nothing of this," repeated Laoina, as in a daze.” I thought I knew so much! How powerful their gods must be, to watch over such a place!"

"There is only one God, Female and Male in Unity," said Alain.” They who created all creatures and all places. Even these."

Laoina snorted. It was an old argument, one the two had had before.” I have not seen this god. Where do you keep it? In your pocket? Or your sleeve?"

"God are everywhere. As God are part of each one of us and of the world, so we in the world are part of God."

Before Laoina could reply, the door whisked open and the skrolin beckoned.”

Come."

With its shuffling gait, it led them into the house and down a flight of stairs. It soon became so dark that they had to feel their way along the steps; Alain, helping the dogs, fell behind. The skrolin did not seem inclined to slow its pace to accommodate their clumsiness, but just when Adica could no longer hear its chuffing and wheezing, it halted so they could catch up.

She had lost count of the steps and knew only that her thighs and knees were aching when the stairs bottomed out. They stood in a vast chamber, echoing with loud booms. A hot blast of air struck her in the face. She was completely blind. A clawed hand scraped her arms, then shoved her forward unexpectedly.

She collided with a slick wall, banged her knees on a bench, and sat down hard.

Laoina crashed into her, swore; then the dogs were barking.

"Alain!" Booms and clanks drowned out his reply. The walls hummed. A jolt slammed her against the wall. One of the dogs was trying to climb up on her, paw digging into her thigh. With an effort, she got the dog off of her, groped, caught Laoina in the armpit, tried to rise, suddenly panicked, and then Alain found her and sank down on the bench beside her, holding her tightly.

"The armband is gone," she whispered.” They took it."

"I have mine still, but it casts no light here."

After a long while, waiting in silence, they realized that nothing had changed.

The floor rocked slightly and steadily, as a boat would, but no waves slapped their hull. It was too dark to see anything.

"Are we at sea?" Laoina asked finally in a whisper.

"I think not." Adica searched out their surroundings by touch. They might as well have been sealed inside a huge acorn; she found no trace of door or shutter, beam ceiling or dirt floor, only unknown patterns and textures covering the walls.” We are trapped."

"Nay, do not say so," objected Alain.” Let us wait, sleep, and restore our strength. Maybe what seems dark now will seem more clear after."

"Good advice," agreed Laoina.” Even from a man whose god fits in his sleeve."

Alain laughed. His laughter made the darkness lighten, although there was in fact no actual change. They shared out water and a portion of the remaining provisions between the five of them. Afterward, Adica listened as Laoina settled down, making herself a nest, such as she could, for sleep. The Akka woman's breathing slowed and deepened. The dogs panted, and then began to snore.

Secrets lie buried in the dark, where they fester and rot. Wasn't it better to be truthful, no matter how harsh truth was?

"I'm going to die," she murmured, finding Alain's body and pulling him close.

"No, you're not! The Holy One sent me to protect you. I'll see you safely through this. I'll see you safely to the great weaving you've spoken of. Don't you believe I can do that?"

She rested her cheek where his shoulder curved into the soft vulnerability of his throat. Tears slid from her eyes to course down his skin.” Of course, my love. Of course you will."

She could not go on. Grief choked her.

He found by touch the knots that closed her bodice. The darkness, and the silence, lent an intensity to their touching, just as rage and sorrow did: rage at fate for tearing from her the life she could never have, with him; sorrow at the loss that would come. Death did not mean as much to her, at that moment, as losing him. She had learned to live in solitude, even when she was married to Beor, but she had never understood how lonely her life had been until Alain had come to her.

His fingers found and caressed a nipple as she slid his skin tunic up his thighs and straddled him. They rocked there, falling into the pulsing rhythm of the floor shuddering under them. Cloth bunched up and spilled free as they moved. She caught her hands in his hair and pulled his head back to kiss him.

Let it last forever.

In her dreams she sees the fire-woman again, pushing, pushing, pushing as she struggles forward, trying to press her way through the glittering, golden crowd that swarms around her like bees buzzing and stinging.

"Let me pass!" the fire-woman cries frantically.” You must not give her the skopos' scepter. You must not trust her! " But she cannot get through. No one even notices that she is there, astounding as that seems, given the way she blazes.

The hall in which they stand looms impossibly high and long. The figures robed in gold cloth who stand somewhat above the others, placed on a platform built at the far end of the hall, look half the height of normal humans. Maybe that is just a trick of the lamplight.

Maybe it is all a trick. Dreams and visions can be false as well as true. But Adica knows in her gut that this is a true vision. The only thing she doesn 't understand is why it matters, or where in the middle world she stands, if she stands in the middle world at all.

She lifts her staff, surprised to find it in her hand.” Come, Sister, do not despair," she cries, because the look of anguish on the fire-woman's face touches her deeply. She has known anguish and isolation, too.” There is usually an answer if you only know where and how to look."

Eyes as blue as pure lapis lazuli widen in alarm. This time, the fire woman turns, and sees her.

IN the sixth sphere there was always enough food, and everything shone with the golden light of plenty, courtesy of the empress of bounty, known in ancient times as the goddess Mok. But Liath despaired from the moment she entered the regnant's feasting hall in the palace at Darre, just in time to hear King Henry rise to toast the woman who would, in a week's time, be invested and robed as the new skopos, Holy Mother to all the Daisanite faithful.

"Let us pray fittingly to God, who have shown us Their mercy by bringing us a new skopos renowned for her wisdom, piety, and noble lineage."

How could they crown Anne as skopos? How could they trust her, who was the greatest danger of all? How could she stop them when not one soul in the hall was aware of her presence?

She pressed through the celebrating throng to the side of Sister Rosvita, who had interceded for her before. But although the good cleric looked thoughtful rather than pleased, concerned rather than joyful, nothing Liath could do caught her attention. The sardonic cleric seated beside Rosvita, who kept making sarcastic asides, brushed at his shoulder when Liath tugged at his robes, as though brushing at a fly. He didn't even look up.

She dared not ascend to the high table, where Hugh sat in the place of honor between Queen Adelheid and the new skopos. Hugh would not heed her; he had ensnared Adelheid and Henry both. Obviously he had become Anne's favored ally, even though Anne had seen him at his worst, abusing her own daughter.

Hadn't Anne let him take Da's Book of Secrets? Had she guessed all along what he could become and meant to twist him to her own purposes, or was it Hugh who had twisted Anne?

Did it even matter? Hugh's goals, at least, Liath could comprehend: he wanted knowledge and power. All that mattered to Anne was destroying the Ashioi.

Without allies, Liath wasn't sure how she could stop her.

"Come, Sister, do not despair. There is usually an answer if only you know where and how to look."

She turned.

The woman facing her was obviously human, not tall but not particularly short either, with black hair neatly braided, a broad face and a generous mouth, and a livid burn scar marking one cheek. But she was dressed so primitively in a tightly fitted cowskin bodice with sleeves cut to the elbows and an embroidered neckline, and a string skirt whose corded lengths revealed her thighs as she took a step forward. At each wrist she wore a copper armband incised with the head of a deer. The metal winked, catching lamplight, and Liath blinked hard, recognizing her.

"I saw you kneeling before a cauldron. Where is Alain? Is he living, or dead?"

The woman shuddered as at the passing of a cold breeze, making a complicated sign at her chest, a hex to drive away evil spirits.” He lives. He is my husband."

"Living!" murmured Liath as hope flowered in her heart.” At least he is free, and alive."

"The Holy One brought him to me from the land of the dead. Is this that land?"

The woman gestured toward the merry folk feasting in the hall as they celebrated the coming investiture.

"Nay," she said bitterly, "this is the land below the moon, but I cannot reach them. I cannot stop them from doing the very thing they must not do."

"I do not understand," admitted her comrade, coming forward to stand beside her.” I thought this might be the Fat One's realm."

"That land I do not know."

"Of course you know it. The Fat One is the giver of all things, pain and death as well as plenty and pleasure. Can you not see her hand here as well, in this place wreathed half in light and half in shadow?"

"Who are you? Where are you from? Where is Alain now?"

"I am called Adica, Hallowed One of the Deer people. I come from the land of the living but it is true that I walk now in the land of dreams and visions, as you do. Alain sleeps beside me, in the heart of skrolin country, deep within the earth."

"Now I am the one who does not understand," said Liath with a smile.

A horn blew. Like curtains rippling in wind, the hall shuddered as a rich, golden light spilled over the scene, folding like days running together. Had the world come undone? Was the belt twisting?

Liath staggered, dizzy, and found herself grasping her new companion's hand in a sober hall lined with dark wood and filled with a crush of people, as silent as ghosts.

The empty throne of the Holy Mother stood upon a smaller dais wrought entirely of ivory and gems which was itself placed upon a larger dais carpeted in gold and red. A procession worked its way forward through the throng, presbyters cloaked in silken cloaks, clerics swinging thuribles as the smoke of frankincense rose in stinging clouds, giving Liath a headache. Bouquets of roses and lilies wreathed the base of lamp stands and ornamented the closed shutters. Anne walked at the forefront, escorted by Hugh and three other presbyters, all of whom were far older than he was. He outshone them as easily as the sun outshines the moon.

"Ai, God," said Liath desperately, "I cannot let them make such a mistake. But I'm trapped here, because I'm walking the spheres, not standing in Aosta. I can't stop it now."

Adica had a serious face but such a pleasant expression that the words she said next shocked Liath, so agreeably were they spoken.” Yet if she threatens you and your people, then you must do whatever it takes to stop her. Can't you kill her?"

"Even if I had the power, I just can't," she whispered, "It would be unnatural."

As Anne reached the steps leading to the lower dais, her four companions stepped aside. Only the skopos could set foot on the ivory steps leading to the Holy Mother's seat. When she set her foot on the highest step, she turned to look back over the crowd. Liath saw clearly the resemblance in her stern features to that of her grandfather's death mask, rendered in stone in the chapel at Autun. None could mistake her who had seen Taillefer's recumbent statue. Here, in flesh, stood his missing heir, child of the son born and raised in secrecy to spare the infant boy a potentially fatal contest for the imperial throne.

With Anne as skopos, sovereign over the holy church, who would truly be more powerful? Henry, or Anne?

"Is killing unnatural when we hunt deer to feed ourselves? Is killing unnatural when we seek to protect our children from that which would harm them? Is killing unnatural when we fight off our enemies who wish to burn our villages and enslave us?"

"That's not what I meant." The hall had fallen into such a profound silence, waiting for Anne to take her seat, that Liath had a crazy notion that she had gone deaf. But her voice still worked.” She is my mother."

"Your mother? But you have a heart of fire."

Adica touched Liath over her heart and closed her eyes. Lips pursed, expression intent, she swayed her head from side to side as though seeking, listening. Her eyes popped open, but her irises had rolled back in her head, leaving only the whites visible. A thin line of drool dribbled down her chin.

She spoke in a hoarse whisper not at all like the easy tone she had used before, as though her inner sight had made a voice for itself out of smoke and ash.”

Child of Flame, look inside yourself. She is not your mother."

The ring on Liath's hand flared with a blinding blue light. Cold stung her finger, shooting up her arm until it stabbed into her heart.

She screamed.

She heard their booming voices, far away, calling her "child."

She knew it for truth, pecause truth hurts far more than a lie.

"Did Alain send youl to protect me?" she cried when she could speak again.” To guide me?" She understood the trap of Mok now, the obstacle laid before her: the trap of false obligation. She had believed blindly, without trusting in her own judgment and wisdom and instinct.” If I am not the heir of Taillefer, then I am free of his shadow and of his burden. I am free to act as I must."

She pulled off the ring and thrust it into Adica's hands.” I pray you, Sister, keep this for him in return for the help he gave me. Let it protect him, when he is in danger, as he has protected me. If he ever needs me, I will come to him."

"Where are you going?"

Liath let her wings of flame flower into life, but she was sorry to see the other woman step back in awe.” To the sphere of Aturna, the Red Mage, who rules with wisdom's scepter. To find my mother."

Without the ring to bind her to Mok's realm, Liath rose easily on a draft of wind cloudy with incense as, below her, Anne took her seat in the throne of the Holy Mother and grasped the jeweled scepter wielded by the skopos of the church of the Unities.

SILENCE and stillness startled Alain awake. He was lying in the dirt with Adica's weight pinning his left arm to the ground and Sorrow licking his ear. Jagged pebbles stung his rump. He groaned, shifting to pull out from under Adica, and sat up, rubbing his hand. It hurt to touch it, still, but once he chafed the prickling needles out of it, he could close it into a firm fist. The snake's poison had neither killed nor crippled him, but he still had that faint ringing in his ears.

Dust motes floated in a shaft of daylight that cut through a cave's mouth. His staff, their empty provision sacks, and Adica's pack with her holy regalia all sat on the earth nearby. Rage whined in the dim recesses of the cave, scratching at the rock face that closed off the back. Laoina, with her spear, was poking at the rock wall as though to flush out snakes. Adica slept, hands clenched. Sorrow sniffed Adica's ear, then flopped down beside the Hallowed One and rested his huge black head on his forelegs. Doleful eyes regarded him. He rubbed Sorrow's head with his knuckles, and he grunted contentedly. Rage yipped, padding over to get a pat as well.

"Where are we?" Alain asked, picking up his staff. He tested the height of the cave's opening and measured the tumbled boulders. They could climb out, but it would be difficult to hoist the hounds out.

Laoina turned.” I am thinking it is a good thing that these Bent People do not want humans as their slaves, because to me it looks like they have powerful magic. They have ships that can sail through rock, maybe. How else could we have come here? By o

some sorcery the vessel carried us under the land to the country of Shu-Sha's tribe. When I was an apprentice to the Walking Ones, I met a man who walked all the way from Shu-Sha's tribe to Horn's tribe. That was when the Cursed Ones destroyed the stone loom and the fine city built by Shu-Sha's people. That man left at the waxing quarter moon, and he saw three full moons before he came to Horn's tribe. That's a long path to walk in one journey. I don't know what magic the Bent People used to make us sleep so soundly, but I'm not thinking we slept as long as three courses of the moon."

"That's a long way," he agreed, thinking that maybe Laoina had lost her mind or gotten confused. Something had changed about the way she spoke, too; the hitches and pauses had vanished, as though the language of the Deer people flowed more easily from her tongue. And anyway, he could not explain any better than she could the things they had seen in the city of the skrolin.” How do you know where we are now?"

She indicated the opening behind him. He scrambled up, scraping his knees. Dirt rained on his head from rootlets stirred as he pulled himself out where he could see. At first it was too bright to recognize anything, but gradually the patterns of light and shade resolved into a rugged defile plunging deep into shadow. The far slope was covered in spiny bushes clinging desperately to the precipitous slope.

At the top of the ridge opposite, he saw a massive wall rising up out of the hill like a waking dragon.

Laoina tugged on his foot.” Come back down, quick. That fort belongs to the Cursed Ones."

He dropped back down. Adica still slept. Rage snuffled along the cave's wall.” I thought you said we were in the land of Shu-Sha's tribe."

"So we are. But the Cursed Ones have killed or enslaved most of her people and have driven the rest into hiding."

"Why do the Cursed Ones hate humankind so much?"

She regarded him with a quizzical look.” They need blood, or else their gods will turn against them. Maybe, too, they are like old man Joa, who buried ten skins and six stone axheads in the ground so nobody else could have them. Then he died, and when a girl accidentally found them two summers later, the skins were no good anymore. So maybe he did keep them for himself by spoiling them for anyone else. There are some people who are always wanting more, an extra piece of deer meat even though they already have enough, a handful of extra spear points even if another person must go short."

"You think the Cursed Ones are selfish in that way."

"Don't they have enough already?"

"I don't know," he admitted. He sighed sharply.” If this isn't the land of the dead, then where are we?"

"In the land of Shu-Sha's tribe—" But she broke off, seeing that wasn't what he had meant.

"I have seen dragons, and a phoenix, and lion women. I have seen a great city beneath the sea, where the merfolk live. I have seen the land underground where the ones called skrolin bide. I've seen the Cursed Ones, and I think they look very like the man I knew as Prince Sanglant." He fingered the head of his staff, rubbing his thumb along the snarling dog's mouth, touching each car-ven tooth.” The valley where your people live I saw in my dreams. But other people lived there once, who called themselves the Rock Children and whose mothers were like living stone."

Laoina looked troubled.” These I have not seen, my friend. I know of no people calling themselves children of the rocks. As for the rest well, I am a Walking One, so I have seen many things, more than most. I admit that the city of the Bent People and the sea city of the merfolk confuse me, for how can it be that they have such strong magic and we have so little knowledge of them?"

"They live in rock and in water. How could we know of them, who live where we cannot?"

"Then why do they not show themselves to us? Nay, there is an answer already.

What if they do not care for those of us who live where they do not? What if they do not need us as the Cursed Ones do? Maybe we have nothing they want."

"I have seen merfolk in my dreams," he murmured, thinking of Stronghand.”

But they were like beasts. Such creatures could not have built a great city." He knelt beside Adica, stroking her hair, wanting to wake her up gently.” All that matters, here and now, is that I protect Adica. But sometimes I just don't understand where I am."

"Maybe it is better that way," she said softly, but when he CHILD or FLAME looked up, surprised at the compassion in her tone, she had turned away as if to hide her expression.

Adica still did not stir, although she breathed evenly enough. He kneaded her clenched hands but could not get them to open, tapped her knees, stroked her under her chin, but she gave no response. At last he sat back on his heels.”

She's in a trance." He'd seen it before; it was one of the things that made her a Hallowed One, fits taking her, convulsions, long sleeps.” How do we escape this cave?"

Laoina made a sign against evil spirits, then spat. After that she crouched beside Alain and regarded Adica dispassionately. After all, she must have been used to the twitching and drooling, the blank stares or the sudden unbreakable sleeps, since her younger brother was the Hallowed One of the Akka tribe.” First we must wait for night."

Maybe there was a more harrowing way to descend into a defile overlooked by a ruthless enemy's fort than on a moonless night with an unconscious woman tied to your back and the knowledge that your two faithful companions, left in a shallow cave, would die of thirst if for any reason you didn't return to them within two days. At the moment, Alain couldn't think of one.

Laoina climbed right below him, murmuring directions: a ledge off to the right broad enough to brace his left foot; a fall of shale to be avoided; a sturdy root grown out of the hillside, suitable for grasping.

Better to imagine himself blind as he negotiated. His arms ached horribly, and his healing hand had begun to hurt like fire. His fingers were scraped raw, and he kept inhaling dust stirred up by his passage. Adica wasn't particularly heavy, but she was a dead weight, and the ropes that bound her to his back cut into his chest and hips. Her breath tickled his neck, but she did not respond at all. Maybe she would never wake up.

Nay, better not to think like that. He had sworn to protect her, and he would.

Laoina had many skills. She, too, was heavily laden. The only things they had left behind with the hounds were the last of their provisions and all of the water, poured out into a shallow depression in the rock. She was a patient climber and a good guide as they crept down the steep slope. It was a different world than the one he knew, even than the one he'd grown used to at Queens' Grave. The tough shrubs smelled different, resinous or sharply aromatic, and bore narrow-bladed leaves. Many of the plants had thorns that stung his skin or caught in Adica's corded skirt. Once they came across a narrow cave mouth where a large bird had built its nest, now empty. Here he rested on his side in a hollow of twigs lined with grass and hair and skin and the bones of the small creatures it had carried here to feed its young.

"When we make war," he said to Laoina, who was crouched beside him, "it's like feeding the bones of our children to our enemy and even to ourselves, isn't it?"

"They'll eat our children whether we fight them or not." Wind sighed along the slopes, rustling the shrubs around them.” I'd rather fight."

"That isn't what I meant—" Out of the gulf of air, he heard a man's laughter, high and sharp.

They kept still, knowing how exposed they were, yet surely with only the stars to light them they couldn't be seen from above.

"Come," whispered Laoina.” There's better cover along the stream."

They half slid down the last incline before it bottomed out where a stream cut through the rock. Alain was so scratched up that his skin wept trickles of blood.

The pain in his injured hand had settled into a dull throbbing. Laoina held branches aside as they pushed through the dense curtain of trees to get to the stream itself, a gurgling channel of water flowing over exposed rocks, but he still stung everywhere from branches scraping him. With Laoina's help he untied Adica's limp body and finally settled on slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of turnips, except maybe a sack of turnips was less unwieldy.

It was hard work wading downstream in the darkness, even with Laoina testing every step before him and with his staff to steady himself. He slipped once on a rock that tipped as he brought his weight down on it. The butt of his staff glanced off a stone and flew up as he fel down to bang his knees so painfully that tears flowed, warm salt tears sliding away into the cold spring-fed waters.

"Let me carry her," whispered Laoina.

"Nay. I can manage. She isn't a burden to me."

The sound of wind and water serenaded them; otherwise, it was silent. Where had the laughing man gone?

Stars blazed above. The Queen's Sword rode at zenith, almost directly above them. Adica called the Sword by a different name. She called it the Heron and had shown him how the stars outlined its broad wings, head tucked back against its shoulders, and trailing legs.

He braced himself on the staff and, with a grunt, pushed up to his feet. Adica moaned softly, whispering inaudible words. Crickets chirped. A whirring insect brushed against his face. He flailed, taken by surprise, just as Laoina hissed sharply and grabbed his arm. He heard the man's laughter again, closer this time and answered by a second voice. A rustling disturbed the trees. He heard a grunt from the same direction he'd heard that laughter, a "gaw" of pain, a cry, broken off and rolling into a horrible gurgle.

Throats slit. Men dying silently.

A child swung out of the branches just in front of them and landed nimbly in the stream. She—or he—held a bow in one hand and with the other gestured impatiently. A length of white cloth was tied around its hips; otherwise, the child was naked except for sandals and dark stripes painted across its thin chest.

"Come," whispered Laoina urgently.

They cut away into the underbrush, Alain stumbling over the rough ground as he followed Laoina and the child. They hadn't gone more than a hundred steps when a dozen figures blocked their path, each one armed with a round shield and a short sword. Because they were all painted with dark stripes across their bare chests and faces, they were hard to distinguish in the darkness since the blend of shadow and light against their skin made them fade into the night and the vegetation. Their leader, a stocky young man, spoke quickly to Laoina.

"You heard our call."

"We did. Where is the Holy One?"

"No one knows. But it is certain that the Cursed Ones have taken her prisoner.

The Horse people are on the move."

"What must we do, then?"

"Go quickly. The queen needs the strength of the deer girl." He nodded toward Adica, looked again, and hastily came over to examine her.” She is caught in a vision," he said to Laoina, ignoring Alain.” We must get her to Queen Shuashaana at once." Without asking permission, he began to untie the ropes holding Adica over Alain's shoulders.

"Let them carry her," said Laoina as Alain began to protest.” You are tired."

"The hounds." It was the one point he was fixed on, like an arrow shot true.

"Ah." She turned back to the leader, and the two fell into an intense exchange that he was too tired to follow.” So it will be," she said at last to Alain as three men separated themselves from the others, trading packs with their comrades.”

Once the Cursed Ones find the bodies of their patrol, this defile will swarm with them like hornets. You must get your dogs now, before the sun rises, or you will never get them. We will take the Hallowed One to Shu-Sha's camp. These men will help you with the hounds. That one—" She pointed to a middle-aged man wearing a necklace of jet beads.” -is trained as a Walking One and can speak for you. I will go to be the words for the Hallowed One. Then you will follow after."

"I can't leave Adica!"

Laoina cut him off.” Then must you leave your dogs. One, or the other. We will go swiftly to Shu-Sha's camp. The Hallowed One will be safe with these warriors, even until you come."

Looking them over, he thought she was probably right. The dozen warriors, three of them women, looked strong, determined, and ruthless. He hated to leave Adica, knowing that the Cursed Ones might still ambush the party carrying her, but clearly these people knew the ground better than he did and he already knew they would kill. To follow her now, he would have to abandon Sorrow and Rage.

"Very well. So must it be. I will take the waterskins." He kissed Adica's warm cheek before a man hoisted her over his back. She gave no response. Her hands remained clenched, and it was hard to make out her features in the darkness.

She was only a shadow, really, blurred and indistinct. As the other party faded into the darkness, he lost sight of her hanging helplessly off another man's back.

Fear for her made tears burn hot in his eyes. It gnawed at his gut, but he forced it to keep still, to crawl into his aching arms and legs and feed them with its dark energy. He would catch up to her in Shu-Sha's camp. By believing it, he would make it happen.

He turned toward his new companions, who eyed him with interest. Two of them looked so alike that for an instant he thought he was seeing double. They wore, like him, neatly trimmed beards, but they had coarse, wiry black hair.

"We should take water. The hounds will be thirsty. I am called Alain."

The man wearing the jet beads looked him up and down. He had silver in his beard and a swarthy complexion.” I am called Agalleos. These two are my brother's sons, born together, Maklos and Shevros. Be quick."

The twins parted the bushes, stationing themselves up and downstream from Alain as he filled al four waterskins.” How did you come to stumble upon us?" he asked.

"The queen saw you in a vision. She sent us. The Cursed Ones have a fort here.

She feared they would capture you. Then that would be the end. You would have been sent to walk the spheres. Skau!" He hissed the word, making a sharp gesture at his throat like a knife cutting into the skin.

"What does this mean, to walk the spheres?" The phrase niggled at the back of his mind, but he couldn't place where he had heard it.

"Hurry," said Agalleos.” We must get these spirit guides and be gone before dawn."

They waded back up the creek. Alain smelled death before he saw it. Luckily, the tumble of corpses was mostly hidden in the darkness, five soldiers lying dead under a sycamore tree where Agalleos' party had caught them. They had been only a few hundred paces behind Alain and Laoina when they had been struck down.

Maklos whistled softly, like a bird, and pointed to the scar cut through the undergrowth where Alain and Laoina had thrashed down from the hillside. The waning quarter moon was rising. Agalleos scooped up mud from the streambed and streaked Alain's arms, legs, and face with it. They started up with Shevros in the lead.

The twins clearly had experience climbing rugged hillsides; they swarmed up so fast that Alain, less sure of where to place his hands and feet, had finally to ask them to slow down. The moon rose higher. They rested at the abandoned nest and continued on, glancing over their shoulders toward the fort looming darkly on the ridge behind them. They weren't anxious, precisely, but they were as taut as strings pulled tight. How keen sighted were the Cursed Ones' sentries?

Shevros reached the cave mouth first. Low growls trembled in the air. Alain scrambled up beside the young man, heaved himself over the lip, and slid down inside. Sorrow and Rage practically bowled him over with their greeting. When he'd gotten them down, he let them drink. Agalleos dropped down beside him, struck fire, and got a torch burning before moving into the cave, wary of the hounds.

"Are your spirit guides too heavy to grow wings?"

"They have no wings. But we have rope."

Keeping well back from the hounds, Agalleos prowled the cave, thrusting the torch into every crevice and hole in the limestone wall.” It was the Bent People who brought you here? On what manner of ship or beast did you travel?"

"I don't know." Alain did his best to describe their journey, but gave up after Maklos, who had climbed down after, snorted loudly, and skeptically, when Alain told of the great marketplace where skrolin and merfolk traded their wares.

"Peace," said Agalleos sternly. Maklos had a cocky lift to his chin, the kind of young man who believes, with some justification, that the young women of his acquaintance persist in admiring him.” He and his brother are learning to be Walking Ones. That's made my brother's son believe he knows more than he does." His tone changed as he addressed the young man.” Do not forget the lesson of your cousin, who thought he was smarter than the rest of us and became food for the crows!"

Sorrow padded over to Maklos, sniffing him up and down while the young man held very still, one hand twitching at the hilt of his sheathed sword.

"Nay, it matters not," said Alain, whistling Sorrow back.” I have seen many things hard to believe. Have you seen the Bent People with your own eyes?"

"Not I." Agalleos shook his head.” Nor any I know. It sounds like a good tale told at the fireside to me. But our great queen

Shuashaana knows many things beyond the understanding of simple men like you and I. She is a woman, isn't she? She is a word worker, a crafter, I think you call it in the language of the Deer people. She is the heir of Aradousa, who was mother of our people, the daughter of bright-eyed Akhini." He finished his examination of the cave's depths, easily plumbed, and returned to Alain There are caves all through these hil s. My grandfather called them 'the mouths of the old ones' and he said people would get lost in them and never come out."

Maklos grunted.” An old man's smoke dreams!" Agalleos eyed him sharply.” Say what you will about the old stones. My grandfather was a wise man. I do not ignore his wisdom." Then he grinned at Alain.” Lucky for us that you're a Walking One, too. That makes it easy to talk." "I'm not a Walking One."

"How comes it that you speak our language, then?" "I only know the language of the Deer People, and that of my own country."

Agalleos measured the hounds, and then Alain.” This is a mystery," he admitted,

"since I started speaking to you in my own language once it seemed to me you understood me well enough."

"How can that be?" demanded Alain, alarmed and confused by Agalleos'

statement.

The sound of a horn calling soldiers to battle rang faintly in through the cave's mouth. Shevros scrambled in through the opening and jumped down to stand beside his brother. The resemblance between the two was uncanny; Alain could tell them apart only because Shevros had a scar on his belly and because Maklos had belted his linen kilt—the only clothing except sandals that the men wore—

lower along his hips than the other two, exposing a great deal of taut belly.

"The Cursed Ones come," said Shevros.” The horn has been raised at the fort.

They have found the dead ones."

Agalleos frowned.” This is bad. They will swarm like locusts into the defile. Now we cannot go down again by the low ground." "Are we trapped here?" Alain asked.

"There is a longer road back. We must move quickly, before light comes."

It wasn't easy to wrestle the hounds out of the cave's opening, nor to maneuver them into position. Alain carried Sorrow as a heavy weight draped over his shoulders, and brave Maklos took Rage. Shevros led the way, climbing up toward the ridgeline above, while Agalleos hung back at the rear. Clouds drifted across the crescent moon, but Alain stil felt the prickle of unseen eyes watching his back as they ascended. The horn blasted thrice more. Calls and shouts drifted to them across the gulf of air. Just as they reached the ridgetop and let the hounds down, throwing themselves on the rocky ground to rest, a line of torches sprang into life along the fort's walls, spilling out the unseen gate and scattering like falling sparks down the slopes of the defile.

Agalleos regarded Sorrow and Rage solemnly.” From here we know only two paths which can lead us safely back to the camp of our queen. But the shorter of these the hounds cannot walk." "Even with ropes, and our assistance?" asked Alain.” Even so. It is a worm's path, underground and underwater. We cannot risk it. We will have to go north and circle around the river."

Maklos hissed sharply.” Go soon," said Shevros.” Look."

Torches had reached the bottom of the defile and a dozen now began to search for a way to climb while the rest followed the course of the stream. Cursed Ones spread everywhere, as numerous as a nest of baby spiders spilling into life. Pink painted the eastern horizon, the brush of dawn.

"Will Adica reach Shu-Sha's camp safely?" Alain whispered, horrified that he had let her be carried away. He should have gone with her to see her to safety. Yet Sorrow, lying beside him, whined softly, and Rage licked his hand.

"Nothing is certain," agreed Agalleos, "but theirs was the safest, swiftest path.

Oshidos is a strong fighter, and they'll go anyway through the labyrinth. The Cursed Ones have never caught any of our people in there."

With an effort, Alain buried his fear. What use would he be to Adica if he got himself killed by the Cursed Ones because he wai worrying about her? "Very well. North of the river, if that is the only path. I have come a^long way with these comrades, a! won't abandon them now."

"Crazy outlander," muttered Maklos.

"I can see they are powerful spirit guides. The gods have woven a mystery about you, comrade." Agalleos pushed himself up to a crouch, poised and ready.” To get out of Thorn Valley we'll have to go by way of the Screaming Rocks. Shevros, you lead the way. Maklos, you'll take the rear. You must set the trap and follow by the ladder."

Maklos seemed pleased to have been given the dangerous assignment. Alain could imagine him boasting of it afterward to his admiring sweethearts.

If they got back safely.

So began the scramble, first along the ridgeline, using boulders and scrub for cover, and after that dropping down into the next canyon over where an escarpment of eroded limestone pillars thrust up out of a tangle of vegetation to form a landmark. Thorn Valley was aptly named, a steeply-sloped vale covered entirely with bushy undergrowth sporting thorns as long as the hounds' claws.

There was no way they could get through that.

Shevros vanished into one of the cavelets worn out of the pillars.” Go," said Agalleos, glancing behind them. On the ridgeline behind them, a torch appeared, then a second. Inside the cave, cunningly concealed where a fallen boulder seemed to be crumbling into the sloping walls, lay a tunnel. Shevros had shinnied partway down; Alain could see his shield, glinting where he'd strung it on his back. Alain moved to follow him, but Agalleos held him back.

"He must release the trap before we can pass through."

The cave smelled of carrion, enough to disturb the hounds, who wanted to find the source of the scent. Abruptly, Shevros' shield vanished. Alain crawled after him through the dusty tunnel, which dipped down and rose up, emerging into the midst of thorns in a cavelike hollow carved out of the tangle of growth. He could barely see the sky through the skein of branches above, but a person standing on the ridge certainly would not be able to see the people scuttling along underneath. Broken thorns crunched beneath his feet as he followed Shevros down a dim tunnel hacked out of the vegetation. They waited until the others joined them.

"The trap is sealed again," said Agalleos.

They went on, careful of hands and shoulders as the slope steepened. In this way, they headed down into the ravine. Alain had his hands full making sure the hounds did not tumble into the tearing wall of thorns. After Maklos had eased his passage through a tight opening a hand's measure of times, Rage decided to befriend the cocky young man and even went so far as to lick his face, which made Maklos spit and sputter. Agalleos trailed at the rear, often lost beyond twists and turns. How much labor had it taken Shu-Sha's tribe to cut this labyrinth under the thorns?

Shevros halted at a crossroads to wait and, as if divining Alain's amazement from his expression, spoke.” The queen's magic is strong." Then he scrambled on, bent over like a hunched old man as he scurried down the right-hand fork.

Alain's hand was beginning to hurt again, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and went on.

They emerged out of the last thorn tunnel by shinnying along a depression dug alongside a huge boulder that brought them into a confusing jumble of boulders and scree wider across than an arrow's shot, the tail end of a massive avalanche that had ripped down the western slope and torn through the thorny cover. Alain expected to hear the wind moaning through the rocks, to hear anything except silence, but all he heard was the scritch of Agalleos' feet as the man walked forward to survey the devastation. It was still morning, early enough that the eastern slope of the valley remained in shadow. The calls and answers of the Cursed Ones' scouts rang in the air as they continued their search down the eastern ridge. Sun crept steadily down the broad western side of the valley; it would reach them soon enough. With heat already rising from the rocks, it promised to be a blistering hot day.

"Come." Agalleos gestured.

The fall of rocks, tumbled, fallen, shattered, loose shale and streams of fist-sized rocks snaking paths through larger brethren, made difficult going. It was hard to be quiet as they crunched over pebbles, negotiated a field of boulders as big as sheep, and squeezed through clefts made by two boulders fallen one up against the next. Shevros knew the twisty, dusty lanes well; he led them unerringly, never hesitating. Had he spent his entire life, from childhood on, engaged in this game of life or death, one step ahead of the Cursed Ones? Alain could not think of the child who had

swung down before them, at the stream, without shuddering. So young to be sent out already on the hunt, to be trained for nothing but war.

No plants grew within the rockfall except for an occasional dusting of lichen. No birds flitted to catch his attention. But there was one sign of human encroachment: here and there, tucked away under ledges, caught around a jagged line of sight, scattered out in the open, lay human bones, picked clean by scavengers, scattered by wind and erosion or caught in spring streams that had, by now, dried up. The sun rose higher, light cutting down. The rocks grew hot to the touch as they picked their way forward, bearing on a diagonal line upslope.

"Why are they called the Screaming Rocks?" Alain asked at last when they paused to catch their breath in the shadow of a leaning slab of rock, some giant's finger torn loose from the escarpment above. He let the hounds lap water out of his cupped hands, their dry tongues eager on his palms.” I thought there would be pipes in the rock, some natural sound."

Agalleos smiled softly. Shevros had gone ahead to keep watch. Alain saw a corner of his kilt flapping out as the breeze caught it; otherwise, the young man was hidden from view. Maklos had dropped behind to guard the rear.

"It is not the wind that screamed here. In my father's youth the Cursed Ones set fire to the great city of my people, the one built in the time of Queen Aradousa. A battle raged among these rocks for days. It was the men who screamed, the ones who had been cut down, injured, left for the scorpions or the crows, left to die of thirst in the sun, because no one could reach them."

"Who won?"

Agalleos picked up a finger bone and rolled it along his palm.” Death won. My father died somewhere in these rocks. His body was never found. As you have seen, he had many companions on the road to the other side. The Cursed Ones do not like this place. Queen Shuashaana says that is because they can still hear the screaming of the ghosts who were never laid to rest."

Alain heard nothing but their own small noises: Rage's snuffling, the press of Agalleos' feet as he shifted. A golden eagle glided overhead. Wind picked up, casting grit into his face.

"Come," said Agalleos.” We are almost there."

CHILD or FLAME They reached the far side of the slide although by this time they had climbed well up the western slope. Above them the valley's slope cut into a long escarpment, dark and brooding, that ran all the way down the rest of the broad ravine. Beyond the slide, thorns grew in profusion. It was hard to see where they eould go from here. Maklos caught up with them, grinning like a boy ready to play a trick on his rival.

The sun had reached zenith, so bright and glaring that its light seemed like an actual weight. Alain was slick with sweat, and the hounds were laboring. His hand was swelling again. He hunkered down in such shade as he could find—

there wasn't much, with shadows so short—and shaded his eyes to stare back across the valley. Was that movement on the eastern ridge? Hard to tell.

Agalleos pointed.” Twenty or more of them." After a moment, Alain thought he saw a darting movement at the fringe of the distant thorn growth, there on the eastern slope, but when it fluttered up into the sky, he realized it was only a bird.

A horn call rang out. Had the Cursed Ones found their trail, or were they giving up?

"It's clear," said Shevros, stepping out from a shadowed cleft, a natural chimney forged by unknown forces long ago.

"We must tie rope to the dogs, in case we need to haul them up," said Agalleos.

Alain looped a harness of rope around their chests, backs, and bellies so they wouldn't choke. He led them into the cleft; although it was still oppressively warm, the shade gave some relief from the heat. The builders had taken advantage of a natural incline already present in the escarpment when they chiseled out the steps. Climbing was hard work because the stair steps were not even. Whoever had hewn them out of the rock had merely worked with what was already there, so at times he had to take tiny steps, followed by a big lift. He was soon breathing hard. Shevros, in front, seemed scarcely winded, as though he climbed such staggering heights every morning before he broke his fast.

After about one hundred steps they came to the trap, a swaying bridge woven out of branches and rope and, poised above it, a lattice gate that held back a jumble of stones overbalanced into a horizontal cleft. Soldiers triggering the trap would be crushed once

CHILD or FLAME they were strung out on the bridge, and once the bridge was broken, it would be impossible to continue up the trail.

Maklos waited as the others negotiated the bridge. The hounds whined, nervous of the shifting ground, so Alain had to lead them across one at a time.

"How will Maklos follow us?"

"There's a ladder hewn into the rock. There, you can see the beginning of it."

"He's going to climb straight up the rock face?"

"There are hand- and footholds. You can't see them from here."

Below, Maklos whistled, still grinning.

"Has he a sweetheart? I'll be sure to describe his daring in great detail to her."

Agalleos chuckled.” Then you'll have an audience of ten or twelve."

They climbed on, resting frequently. Once or twice they had to hoist the hounds up steep sections, but in the end they reached the top. Alain's legs ached and his injured hand throbbed painfully. Scrub grew thinly here; the jumbled ridgeline was mostly rocks. They backtracked to the edge of the escarpment, a dizzying drop that looked down into Thorn Valley and beyond. A vista of rugged country unfolded before them. To the south and east, a line of sharp ridges and defiles gave out suddenly into a gulf of air and beyond that lay a hazy lowland, yellow with summer and bright with heat and color.

Shevros spat.” That is the country of the Cursed Ones. May they all rot."

It was the longest speech he had yet made.” Why do you hate them so?" asked Alain.

Shevros gave him a disgusted look and turned away, slipping gracefully back into the cover of the rocks.

"We are driven from our homes by the Cursed Ones," said Agalleos.” They destroyed our cities. Many of our people have died. Many more who escaped the ruins of our towns walked east to the country of our cousins, the tribes of Ilios, to beg for refuge, to make a new home if they can. Of course we hate them."

"I was driven from my home."

"Do you not hate the one who forced you to go?"

He shook his head, thinking of Geoffrey.” He did not understand what he was doing. He thought he was right, that he was only taking back what belonged to him."

"Well," said Agalleos, "you are young. Come."

A cistern lay hidden within the rocks, enough water to drink their fill and even wash the dust off their faces and hands. To Alain's surprise, he found Maklos there, chatting with his twin and looking pleased with himself.

"They've lost our trail," he said to Agalleos.” They came no farther than the rotting pillars."

"Good." Agalleos sluiced water over his head, letting it dribble down his face in streams.” We'll not lose this route today, then. Tomorrow it may save another one of us." He measured the sun's height, now halfway down to the western horizon.” We'll go on at dusk. I want to cross the Chalk Path at night."

Alain welcomed a chance to sleep. He woke, smelling smoke and cooking meat.

Agalleos had built a fire deep in among rocks, letting dry tinder and many smoke holes disguise its presence. Sorrow and Rage were already eating, cracking bones in their haste to wolf down their meal. Shevros had snared a dozen small rock partridges, quickly devoured by the hungry companions. As the sun's rim touched the western horizon, they shouldered their gear and walked north and west where the ridge spread into a large massif. There remained light to move quickly along the spine of the ridge. By the time it was too dark to move easily, they'd reached the high plateau which all the ravines and defiles and ridges spilled out of.

"Will the others have reached safety by now?" Alain asked when they stopped to water the hounds at another hidden cistern.

"Long since," replied Agalleos.” Now we rest until moonrise. After that, we must walk quietly. No speaking."

Alain was given leave to sleep while the others stood watch. No doubt, they understood better than he did what to watch for; they knew this land, while he did not. The injury to his hand made him woozy as exhaustion hit. He slept, grateful for his companions' generosity.

They woke him at moonrise. With the heavens so clear the waning moon still gave enough light to negotiate the rocky ground as they hiked onward into pine woods. The night was alive with birds and insects. The ground litter, parched by summer, crackled under

his feet. Now and again craggy outcrops, like uneven rock blisters, thrust up out of the earth, devoid of any vegetation except a few tenacious grasses. It was easy to see the stars through the thin foliage. The River of Souls streamed brightly across the sky. Had he already begun to forget the names of the constellations that Deacon Miria had taught him? The Heron struggled upward as it sank into the west; the Eagle, likewise, was beginning to slip west out of the zenith. Yet which was the name Adica had taught him, and which from his old life? Did it even matter anymore? This was his life now. He had given everything else away in exchange for his life; all that mattered was what he had here.

Knowing that, at the end of this detour, Adica would be waiting gave him strength. A shadow of fear fluttered up, like a bat out of night. Had she woken from her trance? What if her vision trapped her? What if she never woke? He pushed fear aside. He had sat patiently beside her while she suffered through worse- trances than this, last winter; it was the burden of being Hallowed One.

As long as he watched over her, she would be safe. The sooner he returned to her, the safer she would be.

The Chalk Path shone before them, cutting straight through the forest like a line of power outlined in gleaming white. They approached cautiously, listening for other travelers, but the night remained silent. Gray teased the eastern sky. Dawn was coming. Chalk marked a road wide enough for two horsemen to ride abreast. It struck east and west as far as he could see, an unbroken line demarcating the chalky surface of the. even road from the uneven forest loam and litter on either side.

They paused just beyond its border. Agalleos drew a pouch out of his gear and poured a mess of seeds, chaff, and scraps of herbs and torn petals into a hand.

"Stay close together. Walk swiftly. We must cross as soon as I throw these up, or else the Cursed Ones will know we have passed this way."

"How can that be?" Alain grasped Sorrow's collar tightly but let Maklos take hold of Rage.

"The Chalk Path marks the border of those lands that the Cursed Ones consider their own. It tracks any who walk on it. Once their scouts find our crossing point, they Would be able to track us for days just from the dust on our feet. Queen Shuashaana's magic will conceal us. Now. Go."

He flung seeds and chaff into the air. They bolted across the path as the mixture drifted down, shimmering like sparks around them, and tumbled panting into the scant cover of the trees beyond. Agalleos and his companions ran onward, eager to get out of sight of the road, but Alain turned to look back.

No footprints marked the path where they had crossed.

He saw no sign of their passage at all. Even the seeds and chaff had vanished.

A last drifting flower petal, as light as down, spit brightness as it burst into flame and, a finger's breadth from the betraying chalk trail, winked out of existence.

They traveled all that day overland, resting that night in a ruined town, long abandoned although soot still streaked the tumbled walls. Here they ate a meal of smoked venison and crumbling way-bread, flavored with aniseed and very sour.

"This road is longer than I thought," said Alain as he reclined on a bed of leaves. Clouds hid the stars, although no rain fell.” How far have we come? How far have we left to go?"

Agalleos knelt beside him, constructing a hidden fire pit with stone and tiles.

Shevros and Maklos had gone out to set snares. Birds were easy to catch in the wilderness that the war had made of these lands.” Queen Shuashaana's magic is too powerful even for the Cursed Ones to defeat. That's why she's stayed here when most of our people, those who survived, have walked away to find new homes. The hills of this part of the country have many caves and tunnels worn into them, because of the soft rock. The queen sealed the labyrinth with her magic. There is a gate there, that she wove, where you can step from the land of the Cursed Ones into the loom outside her camp. But to walk is a path that takes many days. We must go north, and then cut back south and west."

"Except for the worm's path you spoke of."

Agalleos grinned.” Truly. The worm's path cuts back through the underside of the hills into the labyrinth. That saves three days' walking. But the worm's path is for young men." He sat back from his work and patted his midsection. He hadn't much fat on him, but certainly he was stockier than his young companions, having an older man's girth.” I fear I'm too round to crawl on the worm's

path any longer, although I knew it well when I was a boy." He picked up a few tiles.” Nay, friend. Rest your hand. I can do this myself." A quail's whistle sounded out of the dark, and he answered it, low and sweet. Shevros appeared carrying a string of partridges and two pheasants.” Be patient," said Agalleos as he built a fire.” Caution will serve us well. Three more days."

By dawn, Alain could eat his fill of the juicy meat, and there was plenty to carry for the day's journey. Soon after they started out they bypassed a watchtower, set on a low-lying hill. From the shelter of the trees, Alain saw helmeted sentries atop the wall.

"That tower belonged to Narvos' clan," murmured Maklos, with a look that suggested he still took the loss personally.” The Cursed Ones took it when I was a boy."

"All this was our country once," said Agalleos.

"And will be again," retorted Maklos.

They looked each at the other; something about the lightning shift of expressions, their grim frowns, made Alain shiver as at a touch of cold wind or the frozen lips of an evil spirit kissing his heart. They moved on into the forest, heading north into broken country.

By midday they reached the river. It was nothing at all like the great northern rivers, the Rhowne and the Veser, with their wide banks and streaming current.

No Eika ship could have navigated this river; it was too rocky, too shallow, more rapids than river, really. The ford was guarded by an outpost of Cursed Ones, an earthen palisade, a stone tower, and two concentric ditches to protect against attacks. A road struck north, paved with stones, a magnificent piece of engineering.

"Their armies are moving north and west now," whispered Agalleos, "to fight the Horse people."

Alain told them about the group that had attacked at Queens' Grave and kidnapped Adica.” Do you think they can walk the looms? Is that how they came there?"

Agalleos fingered his beard, as if the topic made him uncomfortable.” I've heard it said. I've never seen it, nor why should I have? I am not a Hallowed One, to be allowed to glimpse the magic of the heavens. The Cursed Ones have strong legs and growing armies. They have roads, and their own cursed magic. Why should they need to steal what little we have?"

"To make us their slaves," said Maklos.” They would leave us with nothing but our deaths. Even our deaths they take from us, to give to their gods. This isn't even their land. I wish they'd go back into their ships and let the sea swallow them up."

"But don't the Hallowed Ones have some great weaving planned?" asked Alain.”

Isn't their magic enough to defeat—?"

Agalleos slapped a hand against Alain's mouth.” Speak not of what is forbidden.

We are not Hallowed Ones. It is not allowed for us to hear such secrets or even speak of their existence."

Shevros was staring at Alain as though he'd sprouted horns in place of his ears.

Rage growled, and Agalleos, glancing at the hounds nervously, took a step back.

Maklos, standing closest to the edge of the wood, hissed softly.” Uncle. Come see."

Alain's face still stung from the unexpected blow. His heart raged, and yet he was ashamed of himself as well. What right had he to delve into the secrets known to Adica and her companions, that they had suffered and died for, that they had trained long years to master? Yet the more he knew, the more likely he could help Adica. Resentment flared. What right had the Holy One to thrust him into a world he did not understand, to command him to play his part, and yet never tell him the truth?

He had so many questions. How was it he could understand his companions?

Was it because this was the afterlife? Yet he hadn't been able to understand Two Fingers, or the folk in the desert, or the Akka people. Instead of the afterlife, perhaps this was simply a different life. Truly, people did not seem so dissimilar here, even if their customs and secrets were unfamiliar to him.

Sorrow licked his hand.

In any case, wasn't it the Holy One they had come to Shu-Sha's land to rescue?

Once they had. rescued her, she could answer his questions.

"Hsst!" Agalleos beckoned to Shevros.” Do you see that standard? What mark?"

Alain eased forward so that he, too, could see. Visitors had come to the outpost, a procession of at least two hundred people, most of them soldiers dressed in bronze armor and helmets and carrying the long spears that he now recognized as typical of the Cursed Ones.

_J

o

"The blood-knife." Shevros' eyes were sharpest. Alain could not quite make out the insignia marked on the white standard, a narrow length of cloth bound vertically along a pole.” Look there. The high priest's feathers."

Shevros' words struck the others to silence. They watched from concealment as the retinue entered through the gate and disappeared behind the palisade bank, but they had all glimpsed the figure wearing a magnificent headdress composed of iridescent blue-green feathers.

With a heavy voice, Agalleos spoke.” There can only be one reason the high priest of Serpent Skirt would leave his temple in the City of Skulls. He must be going out to oversee the return of an important prisoner. Or to kill her."

They looked at each other, then, the uncle and his two young nephews. They were speaking not with words but with their expressions. Questions were asked, a decision made, and Alain did not yet even understand what was going on.

But they did.

"I'll go back," said Shevros.” I know the worm's road best." He grinned, just a little, as he looked at his twin.” I know you, Mak-los. You'll not be content if you don't go forward. I wish you glory of it. Just don't get yourself killed." He grabbed his twin by the shoulders and kissed him soundly on either cheek.

"What's going on?" demanded Alain. They looked at him as if they had forgotten he was there. Agalleos' words penetrated far enough to.waken in his mind the conversation he'd had with Laoina in those last moments before they'd parted.

Rage whined. At the northern gate, the priest and his escort appeared again, supported by a dozen men from the outpost as they marched to the ford and began the crossing.” You think that party is going to fetch the Holy One, from wherever she is being held prisoner."

"We must follow them," said Agalleos.” We cannot risk losing their trail. Shevros will return by the worm's road to the camp and alert the queen. Then she can send a raiding party this far, at least. That way, maybe, we can rescue the Holy One. Otherwise " He shrugged, making the gesture, at his throat, of a knife slitting the skin.

"I have to go back to the camp, to Adica."

"If you must, then go." Agalleos said the words widiout anger or accusation.”

But if you go with Shevros, you must go now, and you must leave your spirit guides with us. We'll take care of them as best as we are able. We'll bring them safely back to you, if we can."

Shevros was already shedding most of his gear, taking only a knife, two waterskins, and a pouch of food. His shield, his spear, even his sword he left behind.

"Ai, God," murmured Alain, sick to the depths of his heart. The hounds gazed at him patiently. Tears welled in his eyes but did not fall.

Shevros, ready, turned to look at him expectantly, waiting for his decision.

"Why is the Holy One so important?" Alain asked finally, hearing the words tumble out, feeling as might a man scrabbling for a branch to grab onto as he slides over the edge of a cliff.

"Without the shaman of the Horse people," said Agalleos, "so I have heard, the Hallowed Ones cannot work their magic. That is all I know." He glanced impatiently toward the ford, where half of the priest's party had already crossed.

A raft had been brought for the man wearing the feather headdress.” That is all I need to know. I am theirs to command in the war against the Cursed Ones."

"The Holy One brought me here," murmured Alain.” She saved my life."

There wasn't really any choice. He had a debt to pay. Honor obliged him. And anyway, he could never abandon the hounds.

"I'll stay with you."

SHE dreamed.

Seven jewels on the seven points of the crown worn by Emperor Taillefer, all gleaming, yet they recede before her, or she falls away and upward, and their light spreads out until a band of darkness lies between each discrete point, like a thousand leagues of land J

between them, a vast crown of stars straddling the land itself. But where the brilliant light winks, it turns over in the manner of a restless beast as she walks into a cavern heaped with treasure. Young Berthold, Villam's missing son, sleeps peacefully, gold and silver his bed. Six attendants lie in slumber around him.

Their respiration breathes a soft mist into the air, churning and twisting, and through that mist she sees into another landscape where a woman with wings of flame wanders through a cold and barren land. The winged woman's face is turned away, but surely she knows her; surely she has only to speak to touch her "Sister, I pray you. Wake up."

She woke suddenly, into the darkness. A lamp hovered overhead, held by the nervous hand of her servant Aurea.

"Sister."

"What is it, Brother Fortunatus?"

He sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand. She could feel how cold her hand was in contrast to the warmth of his fingers.” Are you well enough to rise today?" he asked, glancing anxiously toward the door, still hidden in the early morning shadows.

Aurea set down the lamp and frowned at the cleric, although her heart wasn't in it. Rosvita had long suspected that Aurea had taken a liking to Fortunatus, but he had vowed his life to the church and, unlike certain of his brethren, kept steadfastly to his pledge of chastity and devotion to God.” I told you not to be bothering my lady," she said, "even if it's true she's much better."

"You were ill, too, Fortunatus," said Rosvita.

"The summer fever afflicted many of us, Sister," he agreed, "but I am well enough now."

"You're too thin. I can see that you're still tired."

"This would not wait, Sister."

She sat up. She was light-headed but otherwise felt hearty enough, even hungry.” If you will, Brother."

He retreated hastily to stand in the hall outside. Three young clerics hurried in to fuss over her as Aurea helped her with her morning business and dressing.

"Sister Rosvita! You look so well today!" That was young Sister Heriburg, short, stout, with a bland, amiable face and the hands of an angel when it came to writing.

"Sister Infirmarian says not one soul died last night." Sister Ruoda marched over to the window and threw open the shutters while timid Sister Gerwita shrieked in protest.” Nay, for if the contagion is dying, then the air isn't contaminated anymore, and I must say, begging your pardon, Sister Rosvita, but it smells in here."

Rosvita laughed while Aurea, eyes wide, tucked her mouth down into tight-lipped disapproval. But the young women were themselves a breath of fresh air, as the ancients would say. She watched them bustle around, setting the place to rights: straightening the blankets, closing the two books Rosvita had been reading, wiping sand off the table, cleaning the pen that Rosvita had forgotten last night when she had worked at her History until fatigue drove her to her bed.

They were so young, so clever. So energetic. She remembered being that enthusiastic once, overwhelmed by the glory of the regnant's schola.

"Now that you are better," said Sister Heriburg, who wasn't as bland as she looked, "I'll have the servants bring our pallets back here. You ought not to have to sleep alone."

"Even in the kitchens they're saying no one died last night," Aurea commented as she helped Rosvita with her robes.” The local folk say that when a dawn comes with no dead, then the fever is spent and autumn will follow soon."

"That would truly be a blessing." Rosvita sat patiently while Aurea brushed out her tangled hair, braided it, and pinned it up at her neck, a cloth cap sewn with a net of jewels tucked up and over her hair. Fortunatus, obviously agitated, crept back in and seated himself on the bed again, since Rosvita had taken the only chair.” What troubles you, Brother?"

"Messages. I saw an Eagle ride in. She'd come from the north, from Princess Theophanu, but instead of being taken to Queen Adelheid, she was led away to see Presbyter Hugh."

"Perhaps the queen was asleep. She's been up many nights with the infant."

She hesitated, seeing his distressed expression.” Surely there's no rumor of any unseemly intimacy between queen and presbyter."

"Nay." His grin flashed, and a familiar spark of mischief lit his expression.” None but what you've just whispered yourself."

Ruoda could not have been above eighteen years, but she had never learned to school her tongue.” They're a handsome couple, when they hold court together as they do now, with King Henry out on campaign in the south."

"Queen Adelheid is devoted to the king!" protested Heriburg indignantly.

"Truly, and so would I be if he'd given me back my throne, and fathered my child."

"Hush, infant," said Fortunatus as mildly as he ever could. Like Rosvita, he liked the bustle and hubbub now that their numbers had increased again. He turned back to Rosvita.” Not one soul in Darre has a bad word to say about Presbyter Hugh. Why should they? There's no man with gentler manners or a more noble bearing." Did sarcasm twitch his lips as he spoke? For once, she couldn't tell.

"He is handsome," said Aurea unexpectedly. She did not usually offer an opinion, nor was Rosvita accustomed to asking one of her.” But I haven't forgotten that time at Werlida, with him and that wicked Eagle and good Prince Sanglant caught between them. Like my mother said, wolfsbane is a lovely flower to look at, but it'll kill you the same as rotten meat."

"A fine expression," murmured Fortunatus with a chuckle, looking at the servant woman as if he'd never noticed her before.

She flushed. Aurea was old enough to be steady yet still young enough to think of marrying, if she found a husband who could offer her the security to make it worth her while to leave the king's progress. So far she had not. And Brother Fortunatus certainly was not going to be the one to offer. Rosvita wondered if she would have to let the young woman down gently. Here in Darre, with such a high concentration of presbyters, she had seen mistresses aplenty, set up to live in small houses close by the Amurrine Hill. It was easier, in truth, for women to resist the whisper of temptation, since they had been granted hearts less susceptible to rash impulse. Even so, too many clerics turned their ears to the seductive voice of the Enemy.

Humankind was weak, despite what the blessed Daisan had preached. It was always a struggle.

"I pray you, Aurea, I would have bread, if there is any."

"Of course, my lady." Still red, and with a hand on her cheek to cover her blush, Aurea left the chamber.

"Sister Gerwita, now that I am better, I would like Brother Eudes and Brother Ingeld to attend me today as usual." The young cleric nodded obediently and hurried out. Rosvita regarded Heriburg and Ruoda in silence, and they returned her gaze steadily. They were so young, but they had come from Korvei, chosen expressly by Mother Otta to be at Rosvita's service. She sighed, understanding the need for allies, and returned her gaze to Fortunatus.” Go on, Brother. I trust we are alone now and cannot be overheard."

He glanced again around the room, as if expecting to see a spy hidden in one of the corners, but, like Rosvita, he trusted the two girls. Enough light crept in that the painted walls swam into view: geometric borders framed by flowers and, within these, a series of murals depicting the deaths of the martyrs: St. Asella walled up alive in an anchorite's cell; St. Kristine of the Knives; St. Gregory torn apart by dogs; the hundred arrows that pierced St. Sebastian.

"Do you remember the convent of St. Ekatarina?" he asked.

"How could I forget any of the things that happened there? Queen Adelheid trusts Hugh now because of the aid he gave us."

"Sorcerous aid."

Heriburg started, but said nothing. Ruoda leaned forward eagerly, her scarf slipping to reveal honey-colored hair.

"True enough," agreed Rosvita.” Now we are all stained by it. Knowing what powers he has, we cannot speak against him, since we stood aside and let him use those powers to help us escape Ironhead."

"I beg you, do not be so hard on yourself, Sister." He paused, like a fox about to snatch an egg, and then slipped a hand up his sleeve. She heard rustling.” Do you recall the young lay sister, Paloma?"

"The young dove? Poor child she will soon be withered by that hard work, and in such a lonely place."

"She is here."

"Here! In Darre?"

"Hush, Sister." Was that sweat on his brow? Was he really so anxious? A breeze stirred the stuffy room, enough to waft away the worst of the closed-in smell.

She had been cooped up here for many days, recovering from the fever.” I did not recognize her, but she knew who I was. She contrived to meet me after chapel, after

Vigils, out among the hedges where I usually go walking until Lauds. She said she'd come from the convent at the order of Mother Obligatia, with a message for you, but that she could not get near enough because of your illness."

"She could have come to one of us!" exclaimed Ruoda.

"You were not at St. Ekatarina's," he retorted.” She did not know you." He turned back to Rosvita.” She brought this to me instead."

He drew a tightly rolled length of parchment from his sleeve and handed it to Rosvita as though it were a sleeping snake that might bite. She unrolled it on the small table beside the east-facing window. As the sun nudged up over the horizon, its light splayed across the table, illuminating the lines drawn into the parchment before her.

"A map."

Fortunatus rose to stand beside her, leaning on the table. Ruoda and Heriburg crowded behind him. They had all seen maps, mostly drawn in the time of the Dariyan Empire, in monastic libraries and at the schola at Autun. Emperor Taillefer had commissioned mapmakers to mark the boundaries of his holy empire but those that remained from that time looked rough and unpolished compared with the efforts of the ancient scholars. The great library in the skopqs' palace also kept a number of crumbling maps from the old days, frail papyrus that flaked away at a touch. This map was crudely drawn and freshly, even hastily done; inkblots had not been scraped off; the coastline of Aosta—

well mapped by the sailors and merchants of the old empire—was barely recognizable; off the western coast only a simple oval, marked "Alba," signified that large island even though Rosvita had seen in Autun a map delineating the southern coast, made in the time of Taillefer's grandfather, who had married his younger son to the Alban queen.

"What are these marks?" Fortunatus pointed to scratches, like chicken's tracks, set here and there across the land, erratically spaced, each one numbered.”

Some of the numbers are repeated. What can they signify?"

Even without her dream, she would have known them. She had never forgotten reading in the chronicle kept by the holy sisters of the convent of St. Ekatarina.

She had never forgotten the conversation she had had that fateful day.

"Mother Obligatia said that the abbesses who came before her believed that the stone crowns were gateways."

"So they proved to be," said Fortunatus, "but that does not explain—

"Nay, Brother, look what she has written here."

He frowned.” I fear my Arethousan has never been good, Sister. You know my failings. What does it say?"

"Heriburg, would you read it?" Rosvita read Arethousan easily enough, but it was always good to let the young ones shine.

The young cleric colored, looking pleased, and read the Arethousan letters carefully.” 'We have done what we can. Is there a pattern?'"

"What does it mean?" asked Ruoda, never able to keep silent for long.

"These are the stone crowns. That number marks the number of stones reported to stand in each circle. There is Alba, with two crowns recorded, one which has seven stones and one which has nine. Here, the coast of Salia. South of Salia lie the lands where the Jinna heathens have made inroads. East of Salia, Varre, and Wen-dar. This is North Mark, where I came from, thrusting out into the Amber Sea."

"What is this land, here?" Fortunatus pointed to a faint line drawn in to the north of the Amber Sea.

"That must be the Eika shore. East of Wendar lie the marchlands and farther east—I see there is nothing marked here. All wilderness."

"The lands of darkness," he murmured.

"Just so. The Alfar Mountains lie to the south of our homeland, and here is Aosta. There, along the coast of the Middle Sea, lies Arethousa."

"'Beware Arethousans bearing gifts.' I see no stone crowns in the heretics'

lands."

"Neither do I. Yet it is hard to say whether that is because there are none, or only because the good sisters of St. Ekatarina had not heard of any. They could mark only those they knew of, and surely they do not believe they know everything."

"So few of us do."

She smiled, hearing his old, wickedly sweet humor.” Is there a pattern here, that you can see?"

His sharp smile quirked.” No circle that has only one stone."

"Or even two. That would be a fine philosophical question for the skopos'

schola, would it not?"

"No doubt St. Peter the Geometer would have something to say on the question of how many points make up a circle," said Ruoda.

"I will let you lead the discussion, Sister," said Rosvita with another smile.

Ruoda had the grace to blush, yet Rosvita did not like to scold the young clerics under her supervision for loving their learning a little too much. Age humbled one soon enough, as she knew from her aching back and the headache still afflicting her, a last vestige of the summer fever. Both Heriburg and Ruoda had gotten sick, but they had recovered so very quickly; let them believe that youth and rude good 'health would protect them a little longer. The world would teach them otherwise soon enough.

Fortunatus crossed abruptly to the window, leaning out as if to make sure no birds had come to perch on the sill to listen. At last, he turned back.” The little dove had a spoken message for you as well, Sister. I am to meet her tomorrow after Vigils to bring her your answer."

"Can she not come to me?"

"She said she feared she had already drawn attention to herself by asking after you. I know not what she is afraid of, but I swore to honor her request. She seemed to find me trustworthy." ' Rosvita smiled.” Do not look so downcast, Brother Fortunatus. Good behavior has quite ruined your reputation as a reprobate, but I am sure you will recover in time." Ruoda giggled. When Fortunatus had chuckled, even if weakly, she went on.” Pray tell me what message Mother Obligatia has sent."

"A puzzling one, to be sure. A woman seeking refuge has come to the convent, where she remains for now in the guesthouse. She wishes to be admitted into the convent as a nun. She calls herself Sister Venia and says she took part of her education at the schola in Mainni and part of it at St. Hillary's in Karrone. By her accent and bearing, the good mother believes she is a woman of noble background, either from southern Varre or from the kingdom of Karrone. She seems well educated and familiar with the skopos'

palace. The good mother wishes to know if you know aught of her. She is an cM

woman, YmSty, unaccustomed \o pYfj%\ca\ Ysfooi \m\ very learned."

"I know of no such woman." She glanced at the two girls, who merely shrugged.

They had come south with Rosvita and the king and knew even less than she did.” Was there anything more?"

"That is all the girl told me. Truly, Sister Rosvita, I wonder that Mother Obligatia would not welcome more dedicated nuns. Her convent was dwindling. It must not be easy to lure novices to such an inhospitable place."

"Alas, that we must all be suspicious in troubled times. I tell you truly, I am hesitant even to ask here in the palace, among the clerics, for fear that I should, like Paloma, draw attention to myself."

"We could ask," said Ruoda.” All the elegant Aostan clerics think we are hopeless Wendish barbarians anyway. If we're careful, no one will think anything of our questions."

"Especially if a question about the existence of Sister Venia is only one among many," murmured Heriburg. For such a tidy, quiet soul, she manifested a startlingly roguish gleam in her eyes now and again.

Rosvita's father, Count Harl, had trained his most spirited hounds that way: by giving them a little more freedom with each lesson rather than beating them into submission.” Very well, but do not—

The door opened without warning. Rosvita slapped her hands down over the parchment, although truly it was vain to attempt to hide it. Aurea entered carrying a tray of bread and wine. Her face was flushed, as though she had been running.

"My lady! There's a presbyter here from Lord Hugh. You're to go at once to attend the queen." She began to set the tray down on the table but pulled up short, seeing the parchment.

Rosvita rolled it up.” No word of this to anyone, Aurea. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my lady." She asked no questions where they were not wanted. That was one reason Rosvita had kept her in her service for so many months.

"Fortunatus, I must ask you to keep this with you for a little longer." She handed him the rolled-up parchment. After a pause, he tucked it up his sleeve.”

Go and see what is keeping Ingeld and

Eudes." As he left, she seated herself again while Aurea poured wine into her silver cup and sliced off a hank of bread. Her stomach growled for the first time in days.” Let him in, Ruoda."

Lord Hugh's messenger was a stout, diffident presbyter, older than Rosvita, with a placid manner and neat hands.” Sister Rosvita, the queen requests your presence." He waited a moment, then went on in his slow way, which made it easy to understand him.” It gladdens my heart to see you eating, Sister.

Everyone knew how ill the summer fever took you. It's always northerners who take it hardest, it seems."

"I thank you, Brother—Petrus, is it not?"

"You are kind to remember me, my lady."

Was Hugh kind to use a senior presbyter as his errand boy, as if Petrus were no better than a common steward? Or was he only showing Rosvita the respect he felt she deserved because of her status as one of Henry's cherished counselors?

"Let me but finish, Brother Petrus."

The meal was quickly taken, shared with the young clerics and with Aurea, who finished up anything left over. Normally Rosvita might not break her fast until after the service of Sext, but with illness she knew she needed to eat more frequently in order to gain back her strength. Girls, of course, would eat whenever they could. Petrus had the habit of stillness. With folded hands, he bowed his head and shuttered his eyes. His lips moved in a silent prayer.

Unaccountably she felt needled by his calm piety. Why should she not trust Hugh? He had shown nothing but complete loyalty both to his king and to God in the weeks since they had arrived in Aosta. In truth, some said—although never within Hugh's hearing—that Henry and Adelheid would have faced far more resistance had Hugh not quelled Ironhead's mercenary troops.

Fortunatus arrived with the rest of her retinue in tow: timid Gerwita, serious Eudes, the Varingian brothers Jehan and Jerome, and Ingeld, who was very young but recommended particularly by Biscop Constance herself. Bolstered by their presence, like a noble lady with picked warriors at her back, she let Petrus escort her through the Hall of the Animals and outside along an arcade surmounted by a procession of saints, each one lovingly carved into the marble.

Hugh received them outside the queen's -apartments.” I pray you, Sister Rosvita, be of good cheer. We have news from Wendar that comes ill today, with Princess Mathilda still feverish."

The men had to wait outside. Not even Hugh entered the queen's private apartments. Rosvita found Adelheid still seated in bed while one of her servingwomen finished plaiting her wealth of dark hair, tying off the end of the braid with a gold ribbon. A net of gold wire interlaced with tiny sapphires dressed her hair.

Two noblewomen had been allowed to sit on stools beside the bed. Rosvita recognized the two Gislas, neighbors in the region of Ivria. They had obviously been arguing.

"This cannot go on," Adelheid was saying firmly.” Jinna pirates have attacked the coast thrice now, this summer, and because you two are feuding over a plot of land, no one can join together for long enough to end the raids."

"But, Your Majesty—!" began the one called Gisla the Red, for her bright red hair.

"Nay, I have made my judgment. You both have children of marriageable age besides your heirs. Your second son isn't his name Flambert?"

"So it is, Your Majesty," replied Gisla the Red, "but—

Adelheid turned to the other Gisla.” Flambert shall marry your third daughter, Roza, who I believe is now thirteen years of age."

"But, Your Majesty—!" objected the other Gisla.

"They shall take the disputed lands as their own, and on their children I shall settle the title Counts of Ivria. Then you shall both have a share in lands none of which were wholly yours to begin with, but which came empty of a lordship by reason of the Jinna attacks."

Gisla the Red bowed her head.” A fair judgment, Your Majesty." Was it what she had been after all along? Rosvita did not know her well enough to judge.

The other Gisla had more objections, but she knew better than to make them now.” I will bow to your wishes in this matter, Your Majesty, but I will expect your assistance with provisions and troops in order to drive out the pirates."

"You will have it." Adelheid gestured to her servingwomen, and as they came forward to assist her to rise, the two noblewomen

moved back into the crowd of courtiers, each one immediately surrounded by a faction eager to hear her side of the dispute. Adel-heid's women robed her in the southern style in an overdress heavily embroidered at the neck and elbow-length sleeves and belted three times round with a supple cloth-of-gold belt ornamented with cabochons.

She settled herself into the queen's chair and gestured.” Sister Rosvita."

"Your Majesty." She knelt, and her three clerics hurriedly followed her lead. For all her timidity, Gerwita had a particularly graceful way of moving that would serve her well at court.” I trust Princess Mathilda is recovering?"

"So she is. The physicians say she will be healthy in another week. She is still a little feverish, but she is nursing well again." "God be praised, Your Majesty.

What news from Wendar?" Adelheid's frown made her forehead crease slightly, presaging lines to come. She was still too thin. The birth, followed two months after by the fever, had weakened her more than anyone publicly admitted, but her color was good.” That is why I have called you to attend me, Sister. I need your counsel." She beckoned. A travel-worn Eagle came forward from the cluster of women attending the queen.” I pray you, Eagle, repeat your message for the good sister."

The Eagle was about the same age as Aurea, older than Adel-heid, and unusually tall. She had big, callused hands and surprisingly delicate features, weathered by hardship.” As you please, Your Majesty," she said obediently before closing her eyes, marshaling the words she had memorized. Her voice was high, at odds with her height and broad shoulders.

"Her Highness, Princess Theophanu, sends greetings to her most honored father, King Henry of Wendar and Varre, and to her beloved cousin, Queen Adelheid of Aosta. Ill tidings stalk the land. There have been reports of plague in the south. Varingia suffered a bad harvest last autumn, and there is drought in the land this spring. A Quman army has struck west through the march-lands and has been reported as far west as Echstatt in Avaria. They burn and pillage, leaving nothing behind but ruin. No news has come from Sapientia's army since last autumn except rumors of a battle. I fear for the marchlands and indeed even for the heartlands of Wendar if this tide goes unstemmed. To this end, I have left Biscop Constance as regent in Autun while I ride with what forces I can muster to the east. Yet I lack troops, with so many taken south to Aosta.

Duchess Rotrudis has taken ill, and her children are quarreling over their portions, all but her son Wichman, who rode east and vanished with Sapientia's army. Prince Ekkehard left Gent in Wichman's train and has also been swallowed up by the fighting in the east. Duchess Yolande claims that the Salian war for succession has bled away her fighting force, since many of her nobles have been forced to defend their borders from renegade bands pushed east by the fighting in Salia. Duke Conrad has pledged his aid, but there is further news that makes me hesitant to trust him. He has married Princess Tallia. That is why he was not in Bederbor last winter. The deed was done while Constance was riding progress through Arconia, and when she returned Lady Sabella had already given Tallia into Conrad's hands. It is rumored that the girl is now pregnant. I pray you, Your Majesty. Let matters be settled quickly in Aosta. We need the army here in the north."

Despite the questions burning to be asked, Rosvita remained silent a few breaths longer, in case the Eagle had not done. She knew better than to interrupt; an ill-timed interruption might jumble an entire message.

"What do you think?" asked Adelheid at last. A servant brought a cup of wine for the Eagle, who retired gratefully to a bench.

So much ill-starred news made Rosvita's head spin.” I am thinking that King Henry will not be glad to hear of this alliance between Conrad and Tallia. Conrad should have asked Henry's permission to wed the girl, since Henry is Tallia's guardian, in default of her mother, Sabella."

"The one who is imprisoned at Autun," mused Adelheid, who had until six months ago been ignorant of Wendish intrigues, "for leading a rebellion against her brother."

"Even so."

"Is this alliance an advantage to us?"

Rosvita had to shake her head.” I fear not. Tallia has a claim to the throne of Wendar, just as Conrad does. Some would argue—as did the Varren nobles who followed Sabella's revolt—that Tallia's claim to the throne of Varre is stronger than Henry's."

"You believe Duke Conrad to be ambitious."

"I do, Your Majesty. He is also strong-minded, a man of bold temperament."

"And poor judgment?"

"That is harder to say. I would not speak ill of a man as powerful as Conrad without good cause. He has offered none yet."

"Will he come to Theophanu's aid?" A servant came forward with a tray to offer her wine. The cup was, like Adelheid, a thing of beauty: carved sardonyx decorated with a filigree of gold wire studded with cabochons, an echo of those in her belt. Like Adelheid, it looked delicate, easily broken should it be dropped and smash into the floor. But Adelheid's youthful prettiness made her easy to underestimate.

"It would be foolish of any noble in the kingdom to let the Quman range freely,"

said Rosvita.

"Won't the Quman just return to their homelands come wintertime? Can't they be bought off?"^delheid sipped at her wine before setting down the cup restively.” If only it were true that such raiding could be easily squelched. Yet how can we spare any troops from Aosta? The situation remains troubled here.

Even in Darre there are still disturbances on the streets, people calling for this cleric or that biscop to be named skopos in place of Mother Anne. Bandits rule in Tarveni, and the noble houses of Calabardia refuse to send representatives to pledge loyalty to our reign. Henry fights in the south, but even so, half the southern provinces still lie in the hands of Arethousan thieves. I have pledged troops to rid my subjects of the Jinna pirates who plague our coasts. If Henry returns to Wendar now, all this will fall apart." Her passionate gaze would have broken a man's heart.” I know what it is to be a noble child at the mercy of her relatives' ambitions. When I became pregnant, I swore my child would not suffer what I suffered when I was young, thrown to the wolves. I swore that she would inherit what is rightfully hers, in a land at peace. What shall I do, Sister Rosvita?

What do you advise?"

"Send the Eagle on to King Henry, Your Majesty."

"I could go myself!"

"Nay, you are right, Your Majesty, in remaining in Darre while the king rides out to consolidate your allies." And knock a few reluctant heads together, or frighten them into swearing allegiance.

"You must consolidate your power here so that the king can return to a place of firm ground. If you leave, Darre's support may crumble. No one questions your right to reign as queen."

"No," agreed Adelheid, more calmly, "they do not."

"Has there been news of the king, Your Majesty? As you know, I am but recently risen from my sickbed." She did not feel it necessary to tell Adelheid that her clerics brought her gossip every day. No doubt the queen guessed as much.

"They have laid in a siege at Navlia. Lord Gezo had made certain pacts with Ironhead and now refuses to hand over the greater part of the treasure which he took from Ironhead in return for supplying mercenaries. Duchess Liutgard was lightly wounded in the fighting. I confess, there has been some talk of her marrying again."

Something in Adelheid's expression alerted Rosvita. She said, carefully, "Has there been? Shall there be an open competition or does the duchess have anyone in mind?"

Adelheid had the courtesy to blush.” I have suggested to Henry that Prince Sanglant might be an appropriate husband for a woman of Liutgard's rank and lineage."

"Ah." To get hold of her thoughts, now whirling violently, Rosvita folded her hands and bent her head, the better to contemplate the neatly laid out zigzag flooring, white stone alternating with black, beyond the pillow on which she knelt. Rosvita was certain that neither Liutgard nor Sanglant would welcome such a match, but she did not care to say so out loud. Liutgard had come early to her duchy and would not suffer any man for a husband who might try to rule with or for her.” Any gesture that opens the path of reconciliation is a welcome gesture, Your Majesty. Princess Theophanu's message said nothing about Prince Sanglant."

Adelheid smiled thinly.” So it did not, Sister. There are some who say that the king was too lenient with his bastard son." Her eyes were bright in the soft light of morning shining in through the eastern windows to illuminate the handsome murals along the western wall, all of them depictions of scenes from ancient tales like the Lay of Helen and the conquests of Alexandras, the Son of Thunder.” Indeed, there are some who say that Henry's marriage to the Arethousan woman Sophia ought never to have been recognized as valid. There are some who say that her children, too, should have no rightful claim to the throne."

FOR three days they traveled fast through sparse woodland, well away from the road so that they would not be spotted. They rarely lost sight of the blood-knife banner. When they had a clear view down onto the road, it was easy to mark the progress of the high priest because of the startling headdress he wore, his feathers so lustrous that they seemed shot through with rainbows. Now and again they had to detour wide around a village and its vineyards and fields, careful not to be seen. The first time, Alain asked why they did not stop.

"Surely the folk here would aid us, if they all hate the Cursed Ones so much."

Maklos pointed at the people working in the fields. It took a moment for Alain to realize that humans and Cursed Ones worked side by side, recognizably different only because of their complexions and because the Cursed Ones were, in general, shorter than their comrades. Some of the humans even wore their hair up in that distinctive topknot.

"They are slaves," said Agalleos.

"They are dogs, licking the feet of our enemies," retorted Maklos. He spat to show his disgust.

"They seem harmonious enough to me. Look. Do you see them laughing, there?

See how that woman—she's as human as you or I—stops to touch that man, as she might her own brother—

"He is no man." Maklos spat again.” He is a Cursed One. May he rot—"

"Hush," said Agalleos.” My friend," he said to Alain, "you are a foreigner and do not understand what you see. Slaves may smile and bow, hoping to be spared the whip. Magic may twist a person's «

mind until she sees colors that are not there. Now, come. We cai not bide here or we'll lose track of our party."

Maybe so. There was so much he did not understand. Here these lands even the houses were different, built of pale bricks ar roofed with wooden shingles. But as they journeyed on he sa other villages where humans and Cursed Ones worked and livt together. The only places where the Cursed Ones lived separate was at the small forts, spaced a day's march apart, where the hi; priest and his escort sheltered each night.

That third night as they bedded down in the pine woods with sight of earthworks, Agalleos could see that the matter still tro bled him.” You have not walked in those villages, friend Alai You have not walked in the ruins the Cursed Ones made of tl town where I lived as a boy. We follow the high priest and his e cort, yet can you say you have looked into his eyes, have you sei his expression?

We are too far away to know any of those peop except by the color of their cloaks. That does not tell us what li inside their hearts."

They lit no fire that night because the terrain had forced the close in to the road, well within sight of the low embankment a the wooden watchtower. Maklos took the first watch. Much lat Agalleos woke Alain for the final watch and lay down next Maklos. Rage and Sorrow both slept; better to let them lie. Th had come a long way without complaint, good comrades that th were. None better.

Alain leaned against the trunk of a pine, taking in the ni§ sounds: an owl hooted, insects chirped, Maklos snorted softly his sleep and turned over. After a while he moved cautiously to I edge.

The woodland had been cut back about an arrow's shot on sides of the little fort, an astounding amount of work. Sentry fii burned on either side of the gate, illuminating the glitter of rect; gular shields set up along the embankment like a palisade. Th< was no moon, but the stars burned piercingly, so bright that fo moment he had an odd desire to weep with joy at their beauty.

A single figure passed the limit of the sentry fires and, lighti its way with a lamp, moved slowly into the clearing toward Alai hiding place. The man swung the lamp from side to side, sean ing low along the ground. Twice, he crouched and, knife glinti

in the lamplight, gathered plants best reaped on a moonless night. Alain dared not stir. Something about the figure seemed familiar to him, a haunting ache, a teasing memory, but he could not say what. Darkness shadowed the man's face, but as he came closer, Alain could see that he wore odd garb, not much more than a loincloth tied in a knot and draped loosely at the hips and, over his bare chest, a hip-length white cloak. Beaded sheaths covered his forearms and calves.

Was that a feather stuck in his hair, bobbing in and out of sight as the lamplight caught its color?

The man crouched to investigate a spray of leaves among the ragged grass, lifting the lamp up at such an angle that all at once Alain saw his features boldly outlined.

It was the shadow prince, but not dressed as a prince in martial array and certainly not a shadow.

This man he had seen and exchanged words with in the ruins above Lavas Holding while an unseen shadow fort burned down around them. This man had led a column of refugees past Thiad-bold's cohort of Lions after Alain had negotiated a hasty truce, if there could in truth be any true intercourse between shades and people.

Maybe he gasped.

Maybe knowledge, like a knife-edged flower, opened in his heart. If the shadow prince was alive, Alain certainly could not be in the afterlife, because shades could not dwell on the Other Side; otherwise they would not be trapped as shades on Earth.

"Who is there?" said the man, lifting his head. He doused the lamp, but he had a habit, not unlike that of Prince Sanglant, of tipping back his head as though he were sniffing the breeze, trying to catch a scent.

A sentry moved out from the fires, crossing the grassy clearing quickly.” Is there anything wrong, Seeker?"

The prince waited a few breaths, still listening. Alain was achingly aware of the creak of the trees, the_ sigh of the wind through lush summer leaves, the soft snort of Sorrow, a stone's throw behind him, as she dreamed.

"Just an animal."

"You shouldn't be wandering out here, Seeker," continued the soldier sternly, hands gripped tightly on his spear.” There are bandits still, you know what beasts the Pale Ones are. They'd rip you to pieces and then eat you raw. That's what happened to my cousin. I hope we kill them all."

"Even the folk in those villages we passed? Even the Rabbit Clan lady who sells incense in Western Market? Even the sailors on White Flower, whose captain is a half blood?"

The soldier gestured toward the sentry fires and the earthen walls, eager to return to their safety.” Wild dogs can be taught a few tricks, but they're never tamed. And they'll bite you when you try to feed them."

"Hu-ah," said the prince softly, "so swift a judgment and so harsh a cut." He touched thumb and forefinger to the wick on the lamp, and fire flared, so startling that Alain jerked back, thumping his head on the tree behind him.

"What was that?" The soldier raised his spear threateningly and took a step toward the forest's edge.

"A deer. Come, let's go back." The prince lifted a square of cloth overflowing with leaves and stems; tying diagonal corners gave him a means to carry his bounty.” I've got what I wanted."

Waking his companions at the first blush of dawn, Alain heard a horn call, low and trembling.

Maklos grabbed his weapons hastily.” They're off early today."

"No need to hurry," said Agalleos mildly as he stretched out the kinks that sleeping on the uneven ground had left in his body.” Aih! To be young again!"

He grimaced.” I'll never be free of these knots in my neck! There's only one road, so we can't lose them. We'll reach the Spider's Fort by afternoon. I wager they'll stop there for the night."

"Why so?" demanded Maklos.” Aren't they in a hurry?"

"There's a crossroads there, lad. West and north runs the path into enemy lands, as far out as they've forced the border. To the southeast they can march by the Carrion Road and cross the Chalk Path by the Bright River. It's but a day's march from Bright River to the City of Islands. They can sacrifice a prisoner there as easily as they can in the City of Skulls."

"What is a Seeker?" asked Alain. When Agal eos looked at him strangely, he explained the encounter he'd had.

"Have you learned the language of the Cursed Ones as well?" asked Agalleos, surprised. Maklos had already started out and yoo

now, half hidden in the trees, turned to wave them forward impatiently.

Alain gathered up his gear, staff, pack, and the shield left by Shevros, while he gathered his wits as well.” I told you before: I only know the language of the Deer people, and that of my own country."

They looked at each other, each seeing distress and bewilderment in the other man's face. Rage whined and nudged Alain, urging him to move on.

"Come," said Agalleos.” No doubt your spirit guides have given you some gift you weren't aware of."

No doubt. But his thoughts were so jumbled that three times that morning he tripped over roots and once slammed right into the trunk of a tree.

"Hsst!" Maklos sprinted back and shook him.” Keep alert! You could get us all killed."

It was like chasing down flustered geese. For some reason, his hand—the one that had been bitten—began to throb again, although it hadn't pained him since the day they'd crossed the Chalk Path. There went one goose which he had chased before: How could he understand Agalleos and Maklos? How could he understand the speech of the Cursed Ones?

And there, crossing its path, drawing his attention, another: The prince was no shadow. He was alive. He had been a shade in the world Alain had once known, a vision from times long past.

What did that make him now?

Spider's Fort had been built over the ruins of another town, thick stone walls raised on a low hill to make it a fortress. So many old ruined walls wandered out onto the grassy land around that the brooding watchtowers and massive walls did give it the look of a many-eyed spider nesting at the center of its web. There were many more soldiers here, and even a camp set up outside the walls on flat ground extending out to the southeast: circular pavilions of white cloth dyed a pale gold under the light of the setting sun. Soldiers were driving stakes into the ground at an angle along the east-facing slope, like a defense against cavalry.

"Do you think they have the Holy One here already?" Maklos grinned.” I can sneak in along the old stone walls and get a look inside."

"No, I must go," said Agalleos.” When I wasn't more than Maklos' age, I spent a season here as a soldier." He spat, as though ridding himself of a bad taste.”

Even then, we were losing the war. The Cursed Ones spread their net wider every year. So far have they come."

"Nay, I must be the one to go." As the other two began to protest, Alain lifted a hand.” I can understand their language. Can you?"

"Truly," admitted Agalleos, "I can't understand their speech." Maklos crossed his arms and grimaced, hating to miss his chance for a daring raid.

"Even if I can't get close enough to see into the fort, I can at least hear the gossip of the sentries. What do you know of these old walls? Is there one route better than the others?"

"Along the northern slope you'll find the ground dug through with old trenches and fallen walls. You can move in close, this way." Agalleos drew in the dirt with a stick.” The fort's walls thrust out like a ship's prow at the narrow end of the hill." He scraped a deep line diagonal to the walls he had outlined.” Move up along this cleft. To your left you'll see an old terrace that used to be an herb garden. There was an old stair there that was hidden by the queen's magic before the soldiers had to abandon the fort. In the corner of the garden, where three walls come together, find the carving of a lion woman. This is the sign that will open the weaving and let you through." He showed Alain how to place his hands and press them over the mouth and eye of the carving.” Go up the stairs.

There's a hidden place where you can see into the fort."

"So be it," said Alain.

He ate, and drank, and fussed over the hounds, waiting for nightfall. He took only his staff, a knife, and a water pouch, refusing the shield, spear, and sword offered to him by Maklos.” The staff is the only weapon I use," he said, "and a shield will only get in my way."

Agalleos slipped a small stoppered bottle out of his pouch, opening it.” We have little enough, but this is a good time. Open your left hand." He poured oil onto Alain's palm.” Now rub this

into your face from right to left, saying these words: 'Let the swift god Erekes place his hand upon my brow and make me invisible to all my enemies.'"

Alain hesitated. The oil smelled faintly of lilies but also of something tart and displeasing.

"This is men's magic," said Agalleos.” Go on."

Starting at his ear, he rubbed the oil into his face while murmuring the words.

Oil tingled on his lips, but he felt no different.

Night brought the waxing crescent moon, already low in the west but bright enough together with the light of the stars that Alain could creep away from their hiding place out onto the open ground. The ground was mostly flat, but here and there pocked with depressions and rubble, easy enough to move through without too great a risk of being seen whether or not the magic worked.

Fires burned on the walls above. He heard the noises of camp, men singing about ships and the sea, in odd contrast to the dust sliding under his feet, the hanks of dry grass his hands closed over at intervals, and thick patches of fennel rising up before him.