Throughout the next days, Tom watched as escaping Anari slaves were passed through the combined army. Here, the administrative efficiency of Tuzza's and Alezzi's officers proved itself in abundance. The wounded and sick were quickly transferred to Tess and her sisters for treatment. Those unable or unwilling to fight in the coming battles were formed into columns and assigned guides to lead them back to Anahar. Those who were able and willing were assigned to Anari units and provided with training on the march.

On the morning of the fifth day, they mounted a forested hill and looked down on the gleaming sea of Enalon, and for the first time Tom looked down upon the shining city of Bozandar.

From the heights of the mountain, the view was breathtaking. By this time the fleeing slaves had painted an alltoo-clear picture of what lay in the streets, but from this distance that was hidden. Instead there were gleaming walls of sandstone, sparkling with crystal, all hewn by the hands of the Anari. While it was hardly the gloriously organic and living city that was Anahar, Tom still felt his heart leap at the sight of the city he had longed to see since his childhood days in Whitewater. The stories told by the traders were not wrong. Bozandar was truly a wonder.

The Bozandari troops grew restless and uneasy as soon as they set eyes on their capital city. The stories of the slaughter that had happened within those walls were fresh in their minds, and the officers had to work hard to keep the troops in order. Fear of reprisal, second thoughts at their new loyalty, and anger at the thought of family members killed in the Anari revolt, combined in a volatile mix that could explode at any moment and shatter the army.

Archer turned to Tuzza and Alezzi. "We walk on a thin ledge right now. It would not be good to bring the army any closer to the city."

"I agree," Tuzza said immediately. "Nor do I suspect that anything we may say will get a favorable hearing in Bozandar."

"I will go," Tom said.

His voice seemed to surprise them. For most of the march he had remained in the rear, with Sara or Erkiah, but now he stood among the commanders, mounted upon a sturdy mare, his leathern mask shielding his eyes.

"Why you?" Archer asked.

"I have longed to see Bozandar all my life," Tom said. "But more than that, I am a legal neutral. Whitewater is neither a client nor an enemy of Bozandar. Our traders and citizens have always been welcome there."

"You will not go alone," Sara said, riding up with Erkiah to join them. "If Whitewater is neutral, then I, too, should go. And Erkiah. He will be our guide."

"You should have an escort," Tuzza said.

"Yes," Alezzi agreed. "I fear the people of Bozandar will be suspicious of any outsider right now. It is better if you have protection."

"No," Tom said. "To arrive with Bozandari soldiers would make us seem either prisoners or invaders. This is a mission of peace, Lord Archer. Let me go in peace."

Erkiah smiled at Tom. "We will never get close to the emperor as mere visitors to the city, my son. You are right that we cannot come in the company of an armed body. And yes, I can be our guide. But we do require an escort. Overmark Alezzi should accompany us."

"We will go together," Tuzza said.

"Nay," Ratha said, his dark eyes flashing. "That would leave our Bozandari without leaders. If we are forced to fight, they will be lost."

Tom put a hand on Ratha's shoulder. "My friend, if we are forced to fight, then all is lost regardless. We have not the strength to lay siege to the city, and even less have we the strength to conquer it. This must be a time of councils and not of swords."

"He speaks truth," Jenah said, looking at Ratha.

"Perhaps," Ratha said. He turned to Tuzza. "But I still fear for the peace of our own camp if you and your cousin are not with us. Already the tension is high, as Bozandari soldiers look upon their homeland and wonder if they have chosen well their new colors. I say this not to insult you or your people, my brother. Any man would feel as they do."

"Aye, brother," Tuzza said. "But my men are loyal to the Weaver."

"Your men are loyal to you," Ratha said, his eyes deep and earnest. "And justly so, for you have led them through much hardship, and in the end you have given them back the pride they lost in defeat. Do not misjudge your own worth, my brother. For rare indeed is the commander who inspires such devotion."

"Tom is right," Alezzi said. "Cousin, we cannot both be gone. But one of us must be with Tom if he is to secure an audience with the emperor."

"My men have spent more time with the Anari," Tuzza said. "They march under the banner of the Snow Wolf. They would be less likely to cause a disturbance in my absence. Thus, I should be the one to accompany Tom."

"No," Erkiah said. "It must be Alezzi. Overmark Tuzza, you must remember that you very likely stand in some distrust in the court, owing to your suspected captivity. And surely by now spies have reported that your men march with the Anari under a new banner. You are more likely to be arrested than to gain an audience at court."

"Let us not forget the Enemy," Archer said. "He must have agents, if not hives, in the imperial court. And he certainly knows of your new allegiance, Tuzza. Erkiah is right. It must be Alezzi."

"My men know that you are no traitor," Alezzi said to Tuzza. "Great was your reputation before this campaign in the Anari lands, and greater still among my men as they see you walk with the Weaver. You have served with many of my officers before. They know you, and you them. I feel no reluctance in entrusting my legion to you, cousin. Where you lead, they will follow."

"Trust your cousin," Tess said to Tuzza. "He is an honorable man. He would not betray us, nor would his men betray you, Overmark."

Alezzi smiled. "Thank you, Lady Tess. Then it is decided."

"Yes," Archer said. "I agree."

Ratha squeezed Tuzza's shoulder. "I would not see you arrested, brother. Your place is here, with your legions, and where our council may profit from your wisdom while Tom and his companions are in the city."

Tuzza finally nodded. "Yes, so it must be."

"Then let us prepare," Tom said, excitement in his voice. "If I am to be our emissary to Bozandar, I must be worthy of that task."

Archer chuckled. "Young Tom Downey, you were worthy of that task from the day I first saw you as a child. 'Tis to my dismay that you have not yet realized this. Go forth and state our case, Prophet. Trust your own wisdom, and in the wisdom of those with you. The world could ask for no better ambassadors than the good people of Whitewater."

Alezzi watched as Tom squeezed Sara's hand. The nearer they had come to Bozandar--its walls gleaming white and silver, even in the cold winter sunshine--the more excited the lad had become. The guard eyed them warily until Alezzi rode to the fore and announced himself and the company. Whatever suspicions might exist in the imperial court, they had not filtered down to this man, whom Alezzi remembered from their service in the north years ago.

"You and any in your presence are welcome in the city of Bozandar, Overmark Alezzi."

"Thank you, Filemark Varlen," Alezzi said, dismounting to take the man's hand. Searching his memory, he recalled that the man had left his legion when his wife died while bearing him twin boys. "And how are your sons?"

"Always into mischief," Varlen replied with a laugh. "They drive my new bride to the edge of her wits and beyond almost daily."

"If theirs were the only mischief in this world, we would be blessed indeed," Alezzi said.

"Aye, Overmark," Varlen said. "For theirs is the innocent mischief of children learning their way in life."

"Perhaps," Tom said quietly with a dip of his head, "the same is true of all of us. In the eyes of the gods, we must all seem like children."

Alezzi noted the guard's quizzical look and smiled. "My friend is a great prophet, Filemark. We should all heed his words."

"It is my honor to welcome you, Prophet," Varlen said. "And I will pray that we children can all be as forgiving as my sons. For while they may squabble, they still sit together at dinner, and only a foolish man would dare to come between them. Walk in peace and freedom in my city."

"Thank you," Tom replied.

As they walked through the gate, Alezzi heard Tom gasp. While Alezzi had grown up in the city, he knew that this first view of the wide boulevard that gently sloped down to the sparkling imperial castle compound could take the breath from many a man.

For Alezzi, the sight was quite different, however. He did not see the usual bustle in the streets. All but absent were the brightly painted carriages that were usually abundant, passing in calm but brisk procession, bearing men both high and low to their daily tasks. In any other time, Alezzi would have hailed one for their journey, for in Bozandar no free man need tire his feet to travel this city. On this day, there was no carriage to be had.

"I am not accustomed to walking this city," Alezzi said, still on foot and leading his mount by the reins. "Truly the people are troubled."

"We need not walk," Tom said. "We have our mounts."

"Nay, my son," Erkiah said gently as he climbed down from his bay mare. "We must stable our horses. Such is the law of the city."

"And a good law it is," Alezzi said. "It helps us to keep the streets clean. And though these are not ordinary times, still we should follow the law. I have walked many leagues in my life. It will not harm me to walk today."

"But what of Erkiah?" Tom said.

Erkiah laughed. "Worry not for me, my son. These legs have borne me far. I am not so old that they cannot bear me farther."

Alezzi paid their stable fees and led them into the heart of the city. It was nearly a two-hour walk, for the city was larger than any his Whitewater guests had ever encountered, and many were their pauses to ask of this or that statue or monument. Erkiah knew the history better than he, and Alezzi listened to the tales that painted his city in a glory he was not sure it deserved.

Too much of that glory had been built on the backs of Anari. Anari who would have no choice but to walk as Alezzi was walking this day, for they would not have been permitted to hire a ride, even had they money to do so. It was, he thought, good that they were walking as common men. It reminded him of why he was here.

For to Alezzi, Bozandar was as seductive as she was beautiful. He had earned a reputation as a man who shunned the trappings of the court, trappings to which he was fully entitled by right of birth. But he knew that reputation was more a matter of necessity than moral standing. For whenever he had been in the city, whenever he had allowed himself to be drawn into discussions of politics, he had felt a pull that filled him with shame.

Though others may not have known it, Alezzi did not hate the intrigues and schemes of the palace. Rather, he loved them too much. And he knew it.

Now he was walking into precisely the nest of vipers that he had worked so hard to avoid, even to the point of taking distant assignments in the provinces when he was entitled to administrative postings in the city. And this time he would have no opportunity to place himself on the list for such a self-imposed exile.

Into the viper's nest it would be, and he hoped his fangs were up to the challenge.

Sara felt the nagging, insistent presence she had sensed so strongly in Lorense. The Enemy had a hive in Bozandar. She was certain of it. If I can feel them, they can feel me, she thought.

Yes, Tess replied. But Cilla and I are with you, sister. You are not alone.

Was that enough? Sara wondered privately. But even while she shielded the details of her thoughts, she could not shield the feelings.

Do not fear, Cilla whispered through the tendrils of Ilduin thought. For nothing is more crippling than fear, sister. Rather, learn what you can. Open yourself to sense all that is happening around you. We will not leave you to fight alone should it come to that.

The words were comforting, and Sara had no doubt about the sincerity of her sister's promise. The question was whether her sisters' combined power would be enough to make good on that promise. She and Tess had battled a hive in Lorense, but they had done so by attacking the hive leader, Lantav Glassidor. And while Sara's and Tess's Ilduin blood had judged Glassidor to a horrible, fiery death, the price of victory had been the death of Sara's own mother, whom Glassidor had abducted into his service years before.

The memory of her mother's last breaths still brought tears to Sara's eyes. If they met another enslaved Ilduin, and if there were no other means by which to break that thrall, could Sara slay her? For that woman would be no more than Sara's mother had been: someone's wife, someone's mother, enslaved and coerced into the dark service of an Enemy who saw the Ilduin only as weapons to be employed in his evil designs.

The Enemy would see Ilduin. Sara would see a captive sister yearning for a freedom that might only lie in death.

"You are troubled, my love," Tom said.

Sara tried to shake off the thoughts. "I will not fail you, Prophet Tom Downey."

"I know that," Tom said quietly. "But still your hand trembles in mine. You walk in memories, Sara."

"Yes," she said.

"Do not," he replied with a gentle squeeze of her hand. "There is no surer way to defeat than to refight the last battle. Our present foe may be far different. Your sisters are right. Open yourself and learn."

You can hear their thoughts, too? Sara thought.

Only when you do, he replied, and only while we touch. For then I can feel your full heart.

Ilduin milk, Sara thought suddenly.

Tom looked at her in surprise.

"When you were most ill," she whispered. "I nursed you, my love. Eisha, the Anari woman who was with us, said that while Lady Tess saved you from death, it was my milk that restored your health."

Tom gave her a playful wink. "I wish I remembered. For I know no milk has come from you since."

"Shame on you, Tom Downey!" she hissed mirthfully. "Take not a blessing of the gods into your trousers!"

He kissed her. "Ah, love, but I do that whenever we are together."

It was not the Prophet who lightened her spirits. It was the husband, the boy who had once been tongue-tied in her presence. That tongue, now loosed and perhaps too much so, brought her out of the darkness of her thoughts.

"I do love you so, Tom," she said with a sigh.

"And I you," he replied.

"And true love is beautiful indeed," Erkiah said, "but lest the two of you slip into the poetry of songbirds, let us not forget our calling here."

"Not even for a little while?" Tom asked, the tone of his voice so ambiguous that not even Sara could tell if he was serious until the smile slowly crinkled the corners of his mouth.

"No, lad," Erkiah said, arching a brow in mock sternness. "Not even for a little while."

"Oh, to know young love again," Alezzi said to Erkiah. "Would it not be a delight?"

"My legs can bear me through the city," Erkiah said, laughing. "I am not sure they could bear me through that."

"Nor mine," Alezzi said. "Nor mine. Perhaps it is good that such things are left to the young, lest the rest of us find ourselves barely able to crawl."

"Enough," Sara announced with a gentle smile. "You boys may have your fantasies at your leisure, but for now we must keep our wits about us."

"Yes, m'lady," Alezzi said with a mock bow. Then, his eyes more serious, he added, "You are right. But still it is good that we find such laughter as we can in these days. There will be far too little to savor."

Tom turned to Alezzi. "Now who speaks as a prophet?"

"Not a prophet," Alezzi replied, his face sober. "Merely as a man who has spent much of his life grasping at such laughter as he could find between the tears."

"I meant no offense," Tom said.

"And I took none, my friend," Alezzi said. "But I have spent my life avoiding this city, and now I walk into its grasp more fully than ever before. It is that, not you, which clouds my heart."

"But how?" Tom asked, looking around. "This city is...majestic. Even in winter these grassy expanses in the center of the avenues are green with life."

"They are green because the sea warms us," Alezzi said. "And however beautiful they may be, however many mothers and children may play in these parks, their true purpose is war, my friend. The main boulevards of this city are wide so that our legions and their horses can form and move easily if the city is attacked. If you look past the green, you will see something else."

As if guided by his words, Sara saw the blotches of dried coppery brown. "Blood," she whispered. "But it is not blood that you fear, Overmark."

Alezzi shook his head. "No, Lady Sara. Blood I have seen, and more than most. Mine has been shed and, sadly, I have shed that of others. But I would gladly bleed from a wound in battle rather than from the wounds we now face. For the blood extracted in the palace is, too often, not the blood one can wash from one's hands. It is the blood of the soul itself."

"That is why you have avoided Bozandar," Erkiah said.

"Yes," Alezzi replied. "The palace is filled with men who would sell their mothers for a seat nearer the emperor. Or, even better in their minds, sell the mother of the man whose seat they wish to claim. They speak of an honor they do not practice and make promises they would not keep even if there were no need to break them. They catalog one another's vices and whisper of one another's failures, but of course always neglecting their own roles in nurturing those vices or ensuring those failures."

"You despise them," Sara said, studying his face.

"Yes," Alezzi said, pain evident in his eyes.

"Because you would beat them at their own games," she continued. "You think you would be the best and the worst of them all."

He shook his head. "No, fair lady. I do not think I would be. I know I would be. I have both the skill and the taste for it. It is the stomach for it that I lack."

"And therein lies your honor, Overmark," she said, recalling the trials she and her companions had faced in the past months. "It is not what we could do that damns us, nor even what we would do. It is what we do, or too often what we fail to do, that the gods judge. If I have learned nothing else in this war, I have learned that."

"Then you have learned truth," Erkiah said, nodding. "And grave indeed will be their judgment if we fail in the task we now face."

"I pray that the price of victory is not too high to bear," Alezzi said. "I have too many memories I would like to forget. I seek no more."

And then, as if by magick, they were at the outer palace gate, a huge structure of metal that looked as deadly to overcome as it was beautiful. Two guards in full dress scarlet and brass stood there, and stiffened watchfully.

"Who approaches the emperor's gate?" one demanded.

"Alezzi Forzzia, cousin and member of his royal house, Overmark of the Legion of the Black Lion."

"State your purpose, Overmark."

"I have brought two prophets and an Ilduin who seek to give my cousin the emperor their foretellings and warnings so that he may continue to protect his empire from all threats."

One of the guards bowed stiffly and called to someone inside. Another guard approached the gate and received the message. At once he turned and trotted into the depths of the palace compound.

"That was easy," Tom remarked quietly.

Alezzi shook his head. "Trust me, the word will pass through many other ears and mouths before it reaches my cousin. We will not find it easy to gain audience."

"But he's your cousin."

"He has more than a few cousins, Tom. More than a few. And many are within those walls already."

Sara suddenly reached out and grabbed Tom's forearm. "The hive," she whispered, her face pale. "There is a hive very near."

Tom nodded and looked at Alezzi and Erkiah. "We may face grave danger."

Before the men could acknowledge the remarks, Sara swayed a little. "Inside. They are already inside."

At once Alezzi's hand fell to the hilt of his sword. "Then this may become far more difficult than I imagined."

Mihabi sat close to his mother on the hillside, near the Anari army, not far from the Bozandari who also marched under the banner of the White Wolf. The combination amazed him, and he experienced an increasing sense of guilt over what had happened during the uprising. He had killed. He had seen his brother Ezinha, a Bozandari, killed. The senselessness of war had never been more apparent to him.

Yet armies had gathered, speaking of a greater Enemy than Bozandar, and of another war to come. If it was that important, he would take up a sword and join them, but for now he could only hope that another fight wouldn't be necessary.

Beside him, his mother still occasionally wept for Ezinha. Mihabi felt responsible for that, even though he was not responsible for the decisions his nursing brother had taken. As for his blood brother...neither he nor his mother Ialla had any idea where Kelano had gone. Probably to linger among the Anari soldiers.

Anari soldiers. That idea still amazed him. His people had always been so proud of their peacefulness. Now they had taken up arms, not only in a slave revolt, but now against a greater Enemy. He wished he knew what this greater Enemy was. Perhaps that was why Kelano had disappeared, to learn what he could about this strange alliance.

His mother began to sob again, and Mihabi reached out to put an arm around her shoulders and offer silent comfort, though he knew there was nothing that would fill the hole in her heart.

It was then that he noted a stirring among the nearby armies. A murmur arose, and with it the soldiers of the White Wolf.

Looking down the hillside, Mihabi stared in shock, then, too, rose to his feet, feeling for the blade he had used during the rebellion, little use though it would be.

From the shining city below emerged a legion under a flag bearing a large red symbol. He could not immediately identify the sign, but he would have wagered that it was the red panther of Owazzi's legion. He had heard they were marching toward Bozandar in the days immediately preceding the full revolt. They had apparently arrived, though too late to prevent the slaves from escaping. Now, perhaps, they were coming to take the slaves back.

Mihabi turned and looked at the hillside. Since he had arrived, very little of the armies around him had been visible. Now, as one, as if they had received silent orders, they formed up, making their numbers clear to the legion in the valley below.

The Red Panther was outnumbered by the Snow Wolf and the Black Lion. But a distinct uneasiness filled the air, and men looked at one another, as if they were not certain they could trust their allies.

It was then a woman garbed in snow-white stepped onto a ledge slightly below them. The murmuring among the soldiers changed at the sight of her.

"Be strong," she said, in a voice that seemed to carry over the entire hill and the mountains beyond. "Stand fast. They will not attack."

How could she know this? Mihabi wondered. How could anyone know this?

But then a man clad completely in black stepped out beside her, and with them a Bozandari and two Anari. Ranged together they seemed to be a wall, a wall with its back toward the threat below.

It was as if the five scorned the Red Panther. As if they knew the legion below was no true threat.

Slowly Mihabi sat and stared at the five. Beneath him, for the first time in his life, he felt the rocks come alive. He gasped and turned to his mother. In her teary eyes there was a smile.

"The mountains are with us, my son," Ialla said. "And now you know your true heritage."

It was as Alezzi had predicted. They passed the outer gates, but then the layers of people who surrounded the emperor began their own interrogations. Everyone wanted to know what this was about. Everyone wanted to find a reason to prevent Alezzi from seeing his cousin, for their positions might be at risk.

But Alezzi knew the ways of the court. He refused to describe the threat except that it was bigger than any Bozandar had ever faced. He suggested, and sometimes said outright, that anyone who hindered him would later pay for it when the emperor learned that important information had been kept from him.

Still, Sara remarked, "Water runs faster uphill."

Tom smiled and squeezed her hand, but felt that her impatience arose more from nerves than time. "Do you still feel it?"

"It is here," she said again. "So far none we have seen are part of it, but it lies within these walls somewhere."

"Then it is a direct threat to my cousin," Alezzi said. "You must let me know the instant we face one of them, Lady Sara."

"Trust me, I shall probably deal with him or her before you can."

Tom looked at Sara, feeling a sudden, deep concern for her. The things she had sometimes been required to do as an Ilduin gave her nightmares, yet the set of her features said she was prepared to do those things again. And more, if necessary.

Tom felt a shiver of apprehension and looked at Erkiah. The old prophet shook his head. "An angry Ilduin is beyond description, my boy. Those who oppose her had best tread lightly."

The last man who had questioned them, then gone off to speak with someone else, now returned with two guards.

"Alezzi Forzzia," he said, "I arrest you in the name of the emperor."

"For what?" Alezzi asked pleasantly.

"Your legion opposes the Legion of the Red Panther just beyond the city."

"My legion has opposed no one, nor has a sword been lifted. We have come in peace to alert the emperor. Do you stand in my way?"

"You are guilty of treason."

"I am guilty of nothing except dealing with idiots like yourself who don't care enough about the empire to pass me through to my cousin."

The man waved a hand at the guards. "Arrest him!"

At that Sara lifted a hand. "Touch him not."

The official sneered. "Who do you think you are?"

"Uh-oh," said Erkiah. "You had best watch your step."

But it was too late. Blue fire sprung from the tips of Sara's fingers, and the guards dropped their weapons with cries, as if they had become molten hot. The official gaped.

"Now," said Sara, "you have wasted enough of our time. I suggest you take us to the emperor before I decide this entire building is in my way!"

"We have Ilduin, too," the official squawked.

"And if they will oppose me, they threaten the empire. And if they threaten your empire, my blood will judge them, Ilduin or not. Now take us!"

As they followed the official down a winding hallway, Erkiah winked at Tom and whispered, "Got yourself a bit of a firebrand there, boy."

Tom merely smiled.

Standing with his back to a Bozandari legion made Ratha's neck prickle, but he refused to obey the urge to look over his shoulder. Watching the armies above, noting their restlessness as they looked down on the legion below, especially among Alezzi's Black Lions, he wondered if their cobbled-together army would hold.

Then he saw Cilla making her way down the slope to join them. With authority arrayed like this, backs to the potential attackers, he thought it would be hard for the armies to do anything but stand as Tess had ordered. And except for the Black Lion Legion, everyone up there knew Tess's power and her importance as the Weaver.

They would stand, he decided, and felt a surge of pride in his fellow Anari who were mere babes in the game of war. Their numbers had greatly swelled with those slaves who had fought their way out of Bozandar, most of whom appeared to have already been bloodied.

His race could be trusted. And he could, he supposed, be forgiven for a bit of doubt about the Bozandari. They were the ones who now looked down on a fellow legion and had to argue with themselves about whether they would attack their brothers. He didn't envy them. In all honesty, he wasn't sure he could stand firm against an army of Anari.

But Tess and Cilla stood between the armies, and he believed they would do anything necessary to prevent a clash. If their intervention was needed, he hoped it would be enough.

The walk through seemingly endless, winding halls soon had Tom utterly confused about where they were. It seemed the palace was built as a maze, and as soon as he thought that, he knew he was right. In its every curve and bend it was built to keep invaders at bay.

He hoped the man leading them was leading them toward the emperor. He hoped that Alezzi knew his way through these labyrinthine corridors. He hoped, as the guards behind them steadily grew in number, that Sara could handle them if necessary, because it wasn't long before he was quite convinced that even the experienced Alezzi would be unable to get them out of trouble.

"Not much farther now," Alezzi murmured, answering one of Tom's silent questions. "We are approaching the audience chamber."

"Is that good?"

"Ordinarily my cousin would receive me in his private chambers. He probably made this choice because I bring strangers with me."

"Or because he doesn't trust you or us."

Alezzi smiled mirthlessly. "I am well aware of that possibility, Prophet. Well aware."

Shortly thereafter, they emerged into the audience chamber, a room large enough to hold hundreds of people. Given its size, Tom would have expected there to be advisors or nobles everywhere. Instead there were just the three of them and their expanded escort. With a glance to the rear, Tom estimated they were now accompanied by thirty or so fully armed palace guards.

Centrally located near one wall with a door on either side, a golden throne sat on a dais. Sparkling jewels of every kind studded it and made it glisten in a rainbow of color. Beside it sat a smaller throne, less ornate. Tom wondered who would sit there. Wife? Or heir?

They waited a short while, then a trumpet sounded near one of the doors behind the throne.

"Bow," said Alezzi, so all four of them did, bending forward until they stared straight down at the floor.

A rustle and the sound of many footsteps echoed in the room, then a surprisingly pleasant voice said, "Rise."

They straightened to find the Emperor of Bozandar seated on his throne. He was dressed in cloth of gold and a gold coronet crowned his head. He looked much like Alezzi and Tuzza, his features as fine cut, his eyes the same color. And he, too, appeared somewhat worn by his cares.

Scattered around now were other elegantly garbed men and women, perhaps a dozen of them. Courtiers or advisers, perhaps. Tom wished he knew more about these matters, then realized that knowing nothing meant anything he said would be untainted.

He tried to stand as straight as he could, feeling suddenly very young in the face of all this power and nobility. Then he felt Sara's arm brush his and realized that she must be feeling much as he was. Like him she was basically a simple girl from a small village who had been thrust upon a stage larger than either of them could ever have imagined.

An innkeeper's daughter and a gatekeeper's son might dream of adventure, but never would they have imagined standing in a palace facing the Emperor of Bozandar, planning to tell him what he must do.

He decided right then that he had best stop thinking about these things before his knees began knocking together.

"Alezzi," the emperor said at last. It was the same pleasant voice that had told them to rise moments before.

"My royal cousin," Alezzi said, bowing again. When he straightened, his face was grim. "I wish I came before you bearing glad tidings, Maluzza."

"So I wish as well, cousin." The emperor, who had been sitting firmly upright, now leaned forward a bit. "You would never betray me."

"I would die first."

"Then tell me why you have come before me without my cousin Tuzza, whom I sent you to rescue. I sent you out to bring him back to me, alive or dead, so that I might honor him. I set you forth to bring back the sons of my people, who weep heavily from recent events. The only reason I did not call you back to defend this city from the rebellion was because my people wanted their sons returned, dead or alive. And you have come empty-handed."

Alezzi bowed his head momentarily, then raised it and met the emperor's gaze directly. "Maluzza, my cousin, you know full well that the clan of Forzzia has forever been willing to make any sacrifice necessary for the empire."

"'Tis true," the emperor agreed, and waved aside a man who tried to lean over and speak into his ear. "Let me hear my cousin out, Izza. There will be time enough for your words after I have heard from Alezzi's lips."

The man stood back, frowning but obedient.

"My cousin," Alezzi said, raising his voice as if to be heard by all. "I set out as you bade me, and my only purpose was to accomplish your wish. To serve you and my people in their hour of trial. I cannot express how hard it was for me to press forward when I learned of the slave troubles in this beautiful city. But my orders were clear and I continued toward the Anari lands."

The emperor nodded as if he approved.

"My scouts warned me that an army approached us, an army of Anari and Bozandari together under a single flag. They were described to me as being only slightly larger than my legion, so I felt no fear, only curiosity at what had caused this treasonous alliance. For so I thought of it when I first learned of it."

"So you should have," agreed the man at the emperor's shoulder. Maluzza himself, however, appeared more intent on hearing the full story and waved his adviser to silence.

"When we came within sight of one another across a valley," Alezzi continued, "they requested a parley. To my astonishment, I thought I spied Tuzza among the party who came forth for the parley. So I agreed and went down to meet them, certain there must be some explanation for what I was seeing other than treason."

The emperor nodded again.

"Our beloved cousin indeed was there, and the story he told me and the sights I then saw caused me to return to you immediately with a warning and a proposal."

"What did you see?"

"My cousin Tuzza indeed had allied with the Anari army that had fought his legion."

A gasp went up from all around.

"They now ride under the flag of the White Wolf."

The emperor straightened again. "The White Wolf? The foretelling..."

"Exactly, my emperor. The White Wolf. But it proved to be more than a banner, for the white wolf came down out of the mountains while we parleyed, and placed himself beside an Ilduin. This Ilduin was attacked by one of my officers, and when her blood fell on him, he burned. Her blood judged him, and there was no way to save him. What is more, when her blood dripped on the ground, flowers sprang from the desert."

Murmurs passed through the room as this news was absorbed.

"My cousin," Alezzi continued, "the Ilduin and Tuzza informed me that a greater enemy than any we have ever faced is bearing down on us. These are the prophesied times coming to pass, and it is our duty to protect the empire and all our allies. The unnatural winter that killed so many in the northlands was sent by him. He has powers I can scarce imagine. He controls the hives we have all heard about."

More murmurs, louder this time, until the emperor waved for silence.

"How can you be sure of this, Alezzi?"

"Because, Maluzza, I have met the Ilduin who is the Weaver. And I have met Annuvil."

Now the gasps could not be silenced. The emperor bowed his head and let the sounds bounce around the room, let all the listeners talk among themselves until at last the noise tapered off. Only then did he raise his head and speak.

"You are sure it is the Firstborn Son of the Firstborn King?"

"Aye," said Alezzi. "I saw his sword, Banedread, and he offered to let me kill him with it if I did not believe what they told me. But I believed. How could I not believe when the White Wolf walks with the White Lady?"

"So it is true," Maluzza sighed. "True. I had hoped that it would not be in my time, but my seer has warned me that the day of prophecy fulfilled was not far away. Who are these you bring with you?"

"Erkiah, a prophet of Bozandar."

Erkiah stepped forward and bowed. "My emperor."

"And the youngsters?"

Alezzi almost smiled. "Not so young, cousin. The Lady Sara is also an Ilduin. Her companion is her husband, Tom Downey."

"And the mask he wears?"

Tom spoke. "I was healed by Ilduin fire, Emperor Maluzza. The price was paid with my sight. Light is painful to me."

"Healed with Ilduin fire? I have heard of that, but only as something from the mythical times of the Firstborn. And did it not only happen once?"

"I believe that is true," one of the men in the room said. "'Tis said that the price of such healing is high."

"In my case," Tom said, "it helped open my inner eyes."

"Aye," said Erkiah, leaning on his staff. "The lad is a prophet of the new age we are entering. He is the one foretold. The Foundling."

More gasps and murmurs ranged around the audience chamber. Tom glanced about and saw that even more people had joined them.

"So you are here to prophesy for me?" the emperor asked.

Tom stepped forward boldly. "My lord, no prophet is needed to tell you that the Enemy, he who is known as Lord of Chaos and as Ardred, Secondborn Son of the Firstborn King, threatens all that you hold dear. All that every one of us holds dear. He has brought the terrible winter down on the northland to weaken us not only by diminishing the numbers of those who might resist him between his fortress and this city, but also to empty granaries and food stores so that we might have little to rely on as the winter lengthens. Indeed, I can tell you with greater certainty than prophecy that spring will not fall over the land again until the Evil One is defeated!"

His voice rang through the room, but then he began to rock gently from side to side. His voice became monotonal yet rhythmic as he fell sway to his vision.

"If we do not act soon," Tom continued, "I see a blighted world where even the most important and wealthy scrabble among bare rocks and struggling plants to find food, where children cannot grow, and their mothers weep for lack of milk."

He lifted an arm, swaying even more, seeming to include the entire room in his gesture. "All of this will fade away as the Firstborn faded, to be nearly forgotten except as stories the poor tell one another around paltry campfires as they try to keep warm. All that you cherish will be stripped from you, and only by serving the Lord of Chaos will you survive at all. You must join with us in the fight!"

"And Annuvil?" asked Izza, the emperor's adviser. "I suppose he wants to be king over all."

Tom stiffened and turned slowly, looking directly at the adviser. "He wishes to be king over nothing. He wishes only to atone for the past. Can you say the same?"

"Hive!" Sara whispered, and suddenly she was wrapped in blue flame that hissed and crackled.

"Where?" Alezzi demanded, reaching for his sword.

Before he could act, Sara pointed at Izza and a ball of blue fire flew from her fingertip to hit the adviser right between the eyes.

Izza's eyes widened and he sank to his knees. At the same instant, the soldiers who had followed them drew their weapons and pointed them at Sara and Tom.

"Stop!" Alezzi shouted at them. "Stop if you love your lives!"

The soldiers hesitated. Sara turned slowly, still a tower of sparkling blue flame, and faced the soldiers. "Put away your weapons," she said gently. "That man belonged to a hive. You are safe from me. And he is no longer part of the hive."

Indeed, even as she spoke, Izza was struggling to his feet, looking dazed. "I...where....?" He shook his head. "Oh, no! I was...I was..."

"'Tis no matter," the emperor said to him. "Apparently you could not help it. Go and rest, old friend. But take someone with you to protect you."

Two of the soldiers immediately detached from the group guarding the visitors and moved to aid Izza. The man was still stumbling as he was led away.

Maluzza, the emperor, rose and stepped down from the dais. Soldiers immediately repositioned themselves to protect him, but he motioned them away. He looked at Sara, who was beginning to return to normal, and at Tom, as if trying to peer through the mask, then at Alezzi.

"So, cousin, you bring dire warning indeed. But how can I be sure this Ilduin has really released Izza from a hive, and not merely injured him through some minor magick? After all, I have heard of only one hive, and that was destroyed by some strangers."

"We were those strangers," Tom said boldly. "The Lady Sara judged the hive master with her blood, and in the final moments of his life, Ardred spoke through him."

"The notion of hives troubles me," the emperor admitted, looking at Tom. "You say there are more?"

"There is one in your palace," Sara said. "I sensed it when we reached the gate."

The emperor eyed her skeptically. "I have felt betrayal from none around me."

"Nor will you until it is too late. If you play shefur, do you let your opponent know where you place your pieces before you are ready to use them?"

Alezzi nodded grimly. "'Tis a basic principle of war, as you know, my emperor."

"Aye, 'tis so. And thus it is difficult for me to know what to believe."

Sara stepped apart and looked around the audience chamber. "The hive knows of my presence since I freed Izza. It knows what we came to tell you. The danger is thus magnified."

"Perhaps," agreed the emperor.

"But it is not yet time to show their hand," Sara said. "Emperor, if you had heard of what is happening here in this audience chamber, would you come to see for yourself, or would you stay at your work?"

At that the emperor stiffened. He turned to the soldiers. "Close and seal all doors. Let none enter. None!"

Armor and swords clanked as the soldiers hastened to do his bidding.

"Now," said the emperor, eyeing Sara, "are we imprisoned here in this room?"

"Not for long." She began to walk around the room, her eyes nearly closed. As she passed, people drew back as if afraid of merely brushing against her. The silence, however, was so deep that the swish of her riding skirt could be heard.

Finally she stopped and lowered her head. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Soon will come a spy. She is already on her way. She will seek to gain admittance through a sweet lie."

"Will you release her, too?"

Sara nodded to the emperor. "She comes on fleet feet, sent because the hive master is concerned about our secrecy. She is young, so young, helpless against the power that controls her...."

Sara's eyes closed. "She is born to be Ilduin, though has not yet come into her powers. That will happen soon, which is why the hive wants her. Her mother was not Ilduin. The talent skipped a generation...." Sara paused. "Emperor, she is your daughter Lozzi. And she comes now."

"Lozzi!" Emperor Maluzza spoke the name with shock and anguish. "My Lozzi!"

"Let her enter," Sara said kindly. "But you must let her come with me to the Weaver. For only the Weaver can save her now."

"You want to take my daughter?" The ruler was horrified.

"Only for a brief while," Sara said.

"I cannot believe this!" Anger replaced anguish and the emperor turned on Alezzi. "This is an attempt to steal my child! How could you have betrayed me so, Alezzi? How?"

Before Alezzi could even attempt a response, there came a knocking at the door to the rear left of the throne. The emperor froze, then nodded to the guard.

The man opened the door a crack and looked out. A small voice could be heard and the emperor closed his eyes. The guard turned toward his master. "Princess Lozzi, my emperor. She begs a word, for she says one of the maidservants slapped her."

Maluzza drew a startled breath. "Never," he whispered. Anger gave way again to horror. "Never," he said again. "Let her in."

Into the room ran a girl of about twelve or thirteen, clad in a beautiful gown, her hair twirled and twisted into a high pile of golden braids. She ran straight for her father, a tear running down her cheek.

"Nona hit me!"

The emperor took her by the shoulders. "Nona has loved you since birth, and never once has she struck you, no matter what trouble you got up to. Why should she strike you now?"

Lozzi gasped. "You don't believe me, Father?"

The emperor searched his daughter's face, pain in every crease of his. "Why, Lozzi? What did you do?"

The girl's lower lip trembled. "Nothing. At least nothing that deserves being struck."

"Let me be the judge of that. What did you do?"

Lozzi stepped back, her lips trembling, her face piteous. "You have always believed me."

"I want to know why Nona should do such an awful thing. The transgression would have to be terrible."

"You support Nona and not me?"

"I support no one until I get an answer."

When none was forthcoming, his shoulders sagged sadly. "Ah, Lozzi, what is wrong with you?"

All of a sudden, Lozzi turned and pointed at Sara. "She is making me do it! She is the problem!"

As the hours drew on, men waiting on the hillside began to grow restless. The army below, ranged before the city, looked as if it had no intention of moving. Perhaps its orders were simply to prevent anyone from entering the town.

"It is possible," Tuzza said when Archer suggested that. "It would be a wise move. Other legions are likely even now headed this way from their outposts to face the threat we represent. If I were in command, I would guard the city like a hen guards her eggs until reinforcements arrive."

"So our greatest fear," Tess said, "is that the emperor won't listen to Alezzi, Tom and Sara, and the other legions will arrive and strike at us."

"Of course." Tuzza looked at her as if he were surprised that she should state the obvious.

"How long?" Tess asked.

"A day at most. Perhaps two. It depends on when the calls went out to them, but I suspect it must have been right before the uprising for at least several of them. Or perhaps right after. They may have believed the Red Panthers alone could have quelled the uprising."

"Could they have?" Archer asked.

"Most likely. Every legion is trained to defend the city single-handedly, and with that kind of organization, 'tis possible the slaves might not have succeeded."

"'Tis very difficult," Archer remarked, "to defeat an enemy who won't hold still and can hide in every nook and cranny."

"True, but Anari are easily identified."

Archer nodded grimly. "My feeling is that we should tell our armies to break out and feed themselves, making fires if they wish to."

Ratha raised a brow, his blue-black face glistening beautifully in the afternoon light. "Is that wise?"

"It will certainly glean for us some information about the intentions of the legion below."

"Ah." Ratha slowly smiled. "I am slow."

Archer shook his head. "No, my brother, you have simply not had the experience I have had. Count yourself blessed not to know these devious ways."

"I think the times require me to learn, my lord."

Tuzza nodded sadly. "I have devoted my life to the defense of my people and my empire. I am glad to say that I was never called upon to engage in conquest, though others have been, including my cousin Alezzi." He turned a little to look out over the valley toward the city. "The lessons are bitter, Ratha. Every one of them. And while some acts may be genuinely justifiable, that does not mean they won't return to you in the dark and solitude of night."

"That is one lesson I have already learned," Ratha said.

"I as well," Jenah added. Cilla and Tess remained silent, though both looked down as if sharing the feelings.

"'Twas this awareness," Annuvil said quietly, "that led me and others to believe we could create a peaceful race. That I have lived to see the Anari need to take up swords..." He trailed off and shook his head. "Bitter indeed. Bitter beyond the bitterest of my life."

Tess immediately reached out and gripped his arm. "You tried to mend a problem. War is seldom just or justified. Indeed, whatever the cause, it is ugly and brutal. And were we not facing the terrible threat I have seen in the encroachment of an early severe winter and the deaths of thousands, were I not able to imagine worse deeds and outcomes, I would declare we must not shed blood.

"This time, my lord Annuvil, he gives us no other choice. And perhaps, he didn't give you a choice in the past, either."

Archer closed his eyes, then looked at her. "Thank you for your faith in me. I wish I shared it."

The others fell silent, pondering sadly that which lay ahead, each locked in his own thoughts and memories. But then Ratha stirred. "We must tell the armies to break out. How do you want the fires built, my lord? As they would for camp? Or another way?"

"Keep the fires to the front of the lines. If we are attacked we can regroup behind them more easily than if they are everywhere."

Ratha nodded. He, Jenah and Tuzza climbed away from the ledge toward the waiting armies. The Ilduin flanked Archer, and he turned to look on the valley below. They turned with him.

"Could you?" he asked them. "Intervene if they begin an attack?"

"We will certainly try," Cilla answered.

"Aye," said Tess. "I would not like to see bloodshed between armies that need to ally. 'Twould be a terrible waste."

Archer nodded. "I agree. Without purpose. Do you have any sense of what is happening with your sister Sara?"

"They are in the palace," Tess answered. "Before the emperor. But her mind is busy, and I cannot discern any one thing."

"I feel the same," Cilla agreed. "She is not trying to reach us."

"I hope that is good," said Archer. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword and he sighed. "By the gods, I am sick unto death of war."

Sara and Tom stood amid a ring of spear points. The instant Lozzi had accused Sara, the soldiers had sprung into action. Only Alezzi, an overmark and of royal blood, escaped the threat.

"Alezzi," the emperor said sharply. "How could you have brought this danger to me? How could you have betrayed me so?"

"If I have betrayed you, I will gladly sacrifice my head," Alezzi said. "But I have not. And Lozzi lies."

"Lie?" the girl shrieked. "I never lie."

"You lie all the time," Sara said calmly, ignoring the painful tightness with which Tom held her hand. "You began lying some six months past, when the hive took you in."

"Lies!"

Sara smiled faintly. "You are pure, then?"

"Except for what you do to me."

"I do nothing to you and you know it."

Alezzi spoke. "Maluzza, my cousin, we played together as children. We stood side by side through many trials. I have always served you well and with pride. I tell you, I am serving you now, this very instant. Does my young cousin Lozzi ever scream at anyone?"

A frown knit the emperor's brow and he looked at his daughter.

"She's making me do it," the girl said, pointing at Sara.

"And," said Alezzi, "we are to believe that Nona, who has never laid a finger on you in anger, whatever your misdeed, has now hit you."

"It is so!"

"I think not," said Alezzi.

"Of course not," said Sara. Gently she freed her fingers from Tom's clutch. Then, almost quicker than the eye, she brought forth her small dagger. An instant later, she had cut her palm and blood began to drip steadily to the floor. "I am Ilduin," she said calmly. "My blood judges. Those of you who know the old stories know that my blood will judge those who are evil or possessed by evil. It can judge no other."

Turning, she let her blood fall on Tom. Nothing happened. "Alezzi?"

He hesitated a moment, then held out his own hand. Blood fell harmlessly upon it.

"Who else in this room will stand for judgment?" Sara asked, holding up her hand. "How many of you have only the emperor's best interests at heart?"

No one moved, and Sara's lips curled. Then she looked at Lozzi. "My child, you are so young no evil could have taken root in your heart or mind. So my blood will not harm you. Step forward and prove the truth of what you say. For you see, I cannot choose who my blood judges. It is beyond my control. So this blood cannot possibly harm you, can it?"

"No," the girl said, wide-eyed, backing up a step. "No!"

Sara moved toward her and not even the guards dared step near her or her blood. "But it cannot harm you. And what better way to prove the truth of your accusation?"

"No!" Lozzi backed up even more, cowering. "Keep it away from me!"

The emperor reached out a hand, catching Sara's arm and holding her. "Do not hurt my child. You are Ilduin, and I cannot prevent you. Not all my armies could prevent you. But do not hurt my child!"

Sara looked at him. "I told you she came with lies. I warned you of her approach. There is a hive in your palace, and it has taken your child. There is within these walls an Ilduin who works for the Enemy. She betrays you every day, every hour, and she has taken your child into the hive. Her minions are working to weaken you and weaken your empire, for in the days to come, when Ardred marches on you, he wishes to find little opposition. You will waste your legions fighting the wrong enemy. You will curse your people by listening to lies and by trusting the wrong advisers."

Sara shrugged. "If you do not believe me, lock us all away. But before I leave this room, my blood will fall on your daughter."

"You threaten me and mine!"

Sara's eyes sparked. "There is more in the balance than you, your child and your empire. You have heard the words of the prophet. Erkiah has vouched for him. Would you ignore the warning because a child lies to you?"

Slowly the emperor released her arm and turned to his daughter. "Lozzi, why did Nona strike you?"

The girl, staring at the blood that still dripped from Sara's palm, seemed suddenly lost and confused. "I...she...." Her voice trailed off and she dragged her gaze from the blood to her father. On her face there appeared a monumental struggle, and all who could see could not doubt that some battle raged madly within her.

"She...she did not strike me!"

With that, the girl collapsed into an insensate heap on the floor.

The emperor knelt beside her and cradled her gently. "My child, my child..."

"She is strong," Sara said gently. "On the cusp of finding her Ilduin powers. She will be fine. And you should be proud, for she battled and won freedom, however brief, from the hive."

The emperor looked up at Sara. "You can heal. Help her."

"Healing is not what she needs. And I alone am not strong enough to battle another Ilduin for her mind and heart. I will need my sisters."

"Then send for them!"

"You must let them pass safely."

"They shall."

"And you must let Lord Annuvil come with them."

"He is here?" The emperor looked both amazed and stunned.

"He leads us," Alezzi said. "He will lead us in the fight against Chaos. He and the White Lady."

The emperor nodded and looked down at the daughter he cradled in his arms. "She is so pale. I will send a messenger."

"That is not necessary," Sara said. "I will tell them. You will ensure that they meet no obstacles of any kind on their way."

The emperor nodded, rocking Lozzi as if his heart were breaking.

"I never thought I would see such a day," Cilla murmured to Tess. Astride their mounts, she, Tess and Archer were passing among the orderly ranks of the Bozandari legion. The soldiers watched them with the greatest suspicion, but the order had been given to pass them through unhindered, and these soldiers obeyed their orders.

Tess nodded. "It feels...strange."

Cilla looked at her. "Strange in what way?"

"It is as if..." She shook her head. "I think I have done this before. It stirs a memory I cannot quite reach."

She lowered her head, reaching for the slippery wisps of something from her forgotten past. Part of her feared what she might find there, for she must have forgotten it for a reason, and the one full memory she had recovered had been of holding her dying mother in a strange world.

But this somehow seemed important, and she struggled to grasp the slippery threads of thought as they rode between the orderly ranks toward the gates of the beautiful city.

But then the memory opened into something entirely different from orderly rows of soldiers into a scene more like that battle the Anari had fought against Tuzza's legion. Every bit as bad. Worse.

Doc!

She was crawling on her belly, dragging a heavy bag. Around her explosions shook the world, making the ground heave beneath her. Dirt and other debris, some of it human flesh, rained on her as she lowered her helmeted head.

Then forward again, urgently squirming along the ground.

Doc!

She reached two men huddled together behind the shelter of a ragged hump of ground covered by the husks of dead foliage. The one who had been screaming for her held his hand tightly on the leg of another man, who writhed horribly.

Jumbled words filled her ears, but then the man lifted his hand from the wound and she saw the horrific spurt. Pressure! she heard herself yell over the surrounding roars and chattering bursts of deafening noise. Keep it on! Then she pulled the bag up to eye level and began to rip open a dark green package....

Tess blinked, returning to the here and now with a near sense of shock.

The orderly rows surrounding her were so far removed from the mayhem she had just seen that it seemed surreal.

Archer's voice reached her. "Are you all right, my lady?"

"I just remembered something from my past." She looked at him and found his strong face furrowed with concern. "It was ugly. It was a battle. But it was not here."

His brow creased even more. "Not here?"

"Not in this world."

His lips suddenly compressed into a tight line. "Will the gods never stop toying with us?"

"Will I never escape war?"

"I often wonder the same thing." Then he utterly astonished her by leaning over in his saddle, grasping her hand and carrying it to his lips. "May we be facing our final battle," he said, then squeezed her fingers and let go.

The flutter in Tess's heart totally distracted her from the ugly memory that had returned to her.

The final battle. How good that would be.

But first they must survive it.

The emperor kept the audience chamber locked. Everyone had settled, waiting for whatever lay ahead of them. The guards remained on full alert, and periodically one would come to the door to give a report on the advance of Tess, Cilla and Archer.

Lozzi remained unconscious, her father hovering over her as she lay on a bed hastily contrived of pillows. Once he looked at Sara and asked, "Will she recover?"

Sara nodded. "Aye. She is strong. Stronger than the hive. But the effort to break their hold exhausted her. She needs the rest. And 'tis better she remain this way until my sisters arrive, for if she wakes, the hive will again take control."

"I want this hive exterminated from my palace," Maluzza said, his voice cracking. "I want every one of them destroyed like the vermin they are!"

"Patience," Tom counseled, speaking for the first time in quite a while. "When the three come together, no hive will withstand them."

"And there is one who can be saved apart from your daughter," Sara said. "We must try very hard to save her."

"Who?" Maluzza demanded.

"Your seer."

He looked aghast. "She is part of this?"

"Not by her will. We must free her."

"By Adis!" The emperor looked like a man from beneath whom the very earth had been yanked. "Lies. I have been surrounded by lies and betrayal, and yet I trusted."

"Those who betray are evil," Sara said gently. "Those who trust are good at heart, and cannot be expected to look for evil in others."

The emperor rose from the floor beside his daughter and looked at Alezzi, Tom and Sara. "I was born to this. The moment I drew my first breath, I was fated to sit on that throne and bear its burdens. Not once in my entire life have I thought of doing otherwise. Nor would it have been permitted. My daughter, too, faces the same fate. One day she will sit on that throne."

He shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "I have always cared for the people of this empire as best I could. I have not always been right. Nor have I always done good. The slave revolt--I should have seen it coming before anyone died. I have failed so many, both slave and free."

Tom spoke, surprised. "You care that slaves died?"

"Of course I do," the emperor answered sharply. "They are in my care as much as any Bozandari!"

"Then how can you endure that they are slaves? Are they not people to you?"

"Slavery began before my time. And to remove it too quickly would result in the collapse of the empire I have sworn before the gods to protect. You try sitting in that chair, young man."

Tom flushed. "It is an evil beyond almost any."

Alezzi spoke. "I have never owned a slave. Nor has my cousin Maluzza. Every Anari in this palace is free. But my cousin is right, Tom. Because of what happened in the past, change must happen at a careful pace."

"Then why," demanded Tom, "do you still allow the slavers to raid the Anari villages? Why do you let your armies march on defenseless towns and seize the prized youth of the clan? Why do you allow this evil?"

The emperor lowered his head. "Then perhaps I had best not let Ilduin blood fall on me."

"I think not," said Tom irately. "You claim to protect all your people, slaves included, yet you have not even ordered your armies to stop stealing men and women from the Anari. You have not ordered that no more slaves be sold, so the raids will stop and those who depend on slaves will have to care for them as irreplaceable. You talk of seeing slow change, yet you have let the cusp of change slip through your fingers throughout your reign!"

Soldiers edged closer but the emperor held up his hand. "The young prophet is right."

"You have cared more that your wealthy classes not be angry with you than you have cared that Anari are being stolen, sold and chained as if they were mere cattle. You have recognized a wrong, yet have done little if anything to correct it. That makes you more evil than most."

Out of Tom's mouth, those words emerged as a judgment spanning ages rather than the moment it took him to speak them. He reached up, removing his leather mask with one tug of the string that held it in place and revealed his strange eyes, eyes with a clear iris so that the pupil appeared to fill the whole space. As the light struck his widely opened eyes, like an animal's at night they shot back red light.

Those who could see him gasped and fell back.

"Ilduin fire not only heals, it purges and cleanses. Before you face the evil we must battle, you must cleanse yourself, Maluzza Forzzia, for evil draws evil to itself. If you are to protect your people and lead them in this fight, you must be free of true evil yourself!"

Tom's finger had risen and pointed at the emperor. "The Ilduin will cleanse the hive from the palace, but who will cleanse the throne?"

Alezzi looked as if he wanted to step forward and silence Tom, as if he feared what the emperor might order after being treated in this utterly unprecendented way. Sara, too, appeared poised to protect her husband.

But after a few seconds, it became apparent it would not be necessary.

"No one has spoken to me so truly in a long time," Maluzza said heavily. "Alezzi, you have stayed away too much."

Alezzi sighed. "I could not bear to be here."

"So you, too, realized."

Alezzi bowed his head slightly.

"I have been receiving poor counsels." The emperor looked around the room at all the gathered people. "How can I govern well if no one tells me the truth? If no one reminds me of what is good and true?"

No one answered. Not a single voice.

"Scribe!"

A man bearing a tablet and pen hurried forward. "My emperor?"

"Write me a law this very instant. Free all slaves and ban the ownership of slaves, under penalty of prison. And add that any of my soldiers who enrich themselves by engaging in the slave trade will forfeit their lives and their property."

The gasps and murmurs that filled the room then could have grown to a deafening crescendo quite quickly as the scribe began to write.

"My emperor," a guard announced. "The Ilduin have arrived along with the man who is called Annuvil."

Ardred leaned closed to the old hag and listened to her muttered words. It seemed she could no longer tell what was happening in the audience chamber of the Bozandari emperor. The hive had been attacked in some way, though she was not clear on the details.

He restrained an urge to hit her, so that if she was deceiving him in some way she would stop. He'd possessed her for too long, he reminded himself. She no longer resisted any whim or request of his. Long since had she learned the anguish resistance brought her.

She turned her wrinkled, skeletal face toward him, her eyes white with blindness. "I cannot learn anymore, my lord. The girl is unconscious. Izza has been freed and until one of the hive is allowed to approach him again, he will be useless."

"And the rest?"

She closed those hideous, sightless eyes. "They are making a plan to enter the audience chamber. But they are not that many in number."

"No." No, that had been his doing. He had wanted key people in this particular hive, but not so many that they might be noticed. Other hives were larger, but they were intended for very different purposes, weakening the empire's defenses in every direction by collecting larger and larger numbers of obedient members. But in the palace, a mere handful who truly claimed the emperor's ear. Until now the plan had worked splendidly.

He sighed and tapped his toe impatiently. "Try harder. There must be something you can learn."

"Aye, my lord."

"Send for me if you do."

"Aye, my lord."

He strode from the room, and he did not see the faint, bitter smile cross the woman's lips as she sat back in her padded chair and allowed sleep to come to her.

Sara watched as Tess, Cilla and Archer walked through the audience chamber toward her group and the emperor.

She was struck, suddenly by how different they looked. Archer, who had once been a weary-looking traveler who rarely cared to be noticed, who had always been soft-spoken, courteous and nearly invisible when he stopped at her father's inn over the years, now strode with purpose and confidence that made him seem yet taller and more powerful. No one could ignore him now, or find him invisible.

And his sword, usually well hidden under his cloak, peeked out, its intricate, jeweled hilt visible to everyone. His companion quiver and bows were absent, however. He was no longer Archer, she realized with a jolt. This was Annuvil, the man who had paid a price beyond imagining for his failings, a man born to be a king.

Beside him, Cilla, too, seemed transformed. She had always borne herself proudly, but battle had affected her in some way that made her look older, sterner, less of the young woman Sara had first met in Anahar.

Sara supposed she herself had changed in just such ways, given the journey on which life had taken them since Whitewater. None of them was truly young anymore.

But then came Tess, and Sara not only noticed the change, she was shocked by it. The young, frightened woman who remembered nothing of her past, who had awakened amid the gore of a slaughtered caravan, had been more transformed than any of them. Why had she not noted the change before? Had she really been so self-absorbed, or absorbed in Tom? Or was it merely the venue that made her so aware now?

The blond-haired, blue-eyed woman garbed in perfect white entered the room with the Weaver's sword hanging from a brown leather belt at her hip. The sword itself was in no way remarkable in appearance, but in Tess's hand it had come to life far beyond the mere ability to slash and cut. Only once had she removed it from the plain leather scabbard, and that had been in battle. Those who had heard it sing in her hand, who had seen it flash with inner light, would never forget.

But now Tess herself shone with an inner light. Gone was the lost and frightened woman, replaced by an Ilduin who walked with confidence and head high into the presence of the most powerful man in the known world as if he were no more important than anyone else.

But, Sara thought with a catch in her own breath, had she not done the same thing herself earlier this day?

They had all been changed. All of them. When she felt Tom's fingers against hers, she reached for them and held them.

The emperor faced the new arrivals, his face a mix of consternation, fear, anguish and controlled anger. He was not pleased with the things that had been said to him, that much was clear, yet he was the kind of man who would stand and take criticism. That alone marked him as well above average.

Alezzi hurried to make introductions. The emperor, for the moment, however, was only interested in Cilla and Tess. "Can you help my daughter?"

"She fought free of the hive," Sara said quietly. "But I alone can do nothing to rouse her or heal her."

Tess nodded and knelt beside the girl. With one hand she touched the smooth young forehead. "She has gone far away to hide from the hive." She looked up at the emperor. "You daughter is strong. She will become a great Ilduin."

"I only care that she survive this."

Tess nodded. "So it is for all we love. Greater battles lie ahead of us, but at this moment none is greater than saving this child."

She looked at the other two Ilduin. "Join me, sisters."

They knelt with her, creating a circle around the girl, and linked hands.

Tess closed her eyes, reaching inward. Those watching saw nothing for a long time except three women kneeling around the emperor's daughter, but then, slowly, a rainbow arced between the three of them and over the girl who lay between them.

It grew in brilliance, scintillating and sparkling in every color the eye could see. Then slowly it lowered until it touched Lozzi's forehead.

An instant later a soft cry escaped the girl, then her eyes snapped open. At once the rainbow vanished.

"Can I?" the emperor asked, reaching for his daughter.

"She is well now," Tess said. She rose and drew back to stand beside Archer and Alezzi. Cilla and Sara joined her. It seemed to those gathered around that Tess looked paler than when she had entered the room, but she still stood strong and straight.

The emperor hugged his daughter, tears running down his cheeks for a few minutes until the strength of his relief eased. Then he rose and faced the party, his cheeks unashamedly wet. "Thank you," he said to the Ilduin.

As one they bowed to him.

"And you." The emperor turned to look at Archer. "Should I bow to you?"

Archer shook his head. "No man need bow to me. I am here merely to serve my purpose."

"I admit I am having trouble believing what I am told, that you are Annuvil, the Firstborn Son of the Firstborn King."

A half smile curled Archer's mouth. "You need not believe it. It matters not. All that matters is the threat this world faces from Ardred."

"I have heard the old stories and prophecies," Maluzza conceded, "and a seer warned at my birth that I should play a part in the prophecies, but I cannot understand why anyone at all would wish to do to this world what the young prophet here foresees. What would it profit him?"

"I do not know. I have never understood this part of him. I suspect we are but pawns in a game the gods play. But of this I know one thing for certain--this game will not end until he and I finish the business between us."

"And that is what?"

"One of us must die."

"And into this the entire world must be dragged?"

"So it seems. Ardred will have it no other way and never would. It was not enough to hate me and kill me. Instead he involved the entire race of Firstborn, first through building his own faction, then through causing my father to build one for me. Out of this came wars beyond imagining. You have seen the plain of Dederand? 'Twas there the last blow was struck in the war. You have seen league after league of black glass where nothing can grow. Not even that seems to have stopped him."

The emperor frowned, trying to absorb the meaning of all this.

"And it is across that plain that we shall have to march to meet Ardred, for he is ensconced in the mountains near Earth's Root."

"'Tis a dangerous way to travel," the emperor said. "'Tis slippery and there are many sharp places. We will lose men simply by crossing it."

Archer nodded. "I believe that is what he intends. But I will go alone, if need be. I only wish I could guarantee your safety and the safety of the rest of the world if I face him alone. But I cannot. He builds hives, which will become armies. Only those who serve him will survive and prosper. Always has he been thus."

"Then," said the emperor, decision clearly made, "we must make plans. Together. For the sake of our people."

Archer nodded. "For the sake of our people."

"But first," said Sara, "we must deal with the hive inside the palace, for if we do not, the Enemy will know every detail of every plan we make."

"Then let us go, sisters," Cilla said. "It is time to show the Enemy that we are not without teeth."

Tess walked with her Ilduin sisters on each side. The news of their arrival had already spread through the palace and even Bozandari nobles seemed to flatten themselves to the walls as the women passed. She didn't like being the object of fear. On the other hand, she made no effort to comfort the dread she saw in the eyes around her. If they wished to fear her, let them. Others had certainly quailed from these people often enough.

"You have been here longer than I," Tess said to Sara. "Have you any idea where the hive is hidden?"

"We should go to Lozzi's nanny," Sara said. "The nanny is the girl's primary caretaker. That was obvious from the emperor's reaction. She will know who else the girl has seen regularly."

"You do not think she is in the hive?" Cilla asked.

"We will soon find out," Tess said, her eyes grim and determined. That someone could use a mere child in this way drew forth a wrath that burned in the pit of Tess's belly. For the first time, she did not quail at the thought of meting out Ilduin justice. If ever there was a time for justice, that time was now.

Tess barked questions at palace guards and officials as they passed, seeking and gaining directions to Lozzi's private chambers. If any of those she questioned had been reluctant to give her the information she sought, that had quickly given way under Tess's fierce gaze.

Be not too led by anger, Cilla cautioned in thought.

If we cannot be angry at this, when would be the right time? Tess thought back. The Enemy was going to turn that beautiful girl into a burned-out Ilduin husk. His evil knows no bounds.

Then she walled off her mind. Something, some memory she could not reach, fueled her anger like an unseen but volatile gas. She did not attempt to plumb that memory. There would be time for that later. For now, she simply drew strength from it.

Lozzi's nanny was a half-Anari woman named Nona. When she saw the three Ilduin enter, her dark eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in caution.

"Where is Lozzi?" she asked.

"She is with her father," Tess said. "You are her nanny, yes?"

Nona nodded. "And more her mother than the woman who birthed her. How is my child? If you have harmed her..."

"We have not," Tess said. "We have freed her from the dark bonds that lay on her mind, and she is well. If you truly love her, you will accept my solemn promise of that, and help me find those who enslaved her. If you do not, I warn you, hope not for another sunrise. For your life will end this day, in this room."

"I would never harm her!" Nona said. "Aye, she has changed these past months. But I thought it simply that she was entering womanhood, and later that she had heard of all that was happening in the city, and feared for me."

Tess studied the woman. Her face was Anari, but her eyes were Bozandari. And while her face was as impassive as any Anari, her eyes shielded nothing. She was telling the truth.

Tess permitted the briefest smile on her lips. "I believe you, Nona. Now tell us, please, who else Lozzi had seen of late. For it is nigh certain that one of them had enslaved her mind."

Nona drew a slow breath. "Please understand that I do not wish to accuse the innocent."

That was a lie, Tess knew. "I need names."

Nona shook her head. "If I were to give you ten names, not knowing which is the one you seek, what of the other nine? Do you think they will not know who gave you their names, who cast them into suspicion? Do you think they will forgive me that indiscretion? If so, then you know nothing of this palace or these people."

"If it is your position and safety that concerns you," Tess said, "consider the danger that I pose. I am here now, Nona."

"If you are truly Ilduin, you would not harm an innocent," the nanny said. "Not even to punish an evil. Not unless you yourself were possessed of the very evil you claim to fight."

Tess fell silent. The woman had called her bluff, and it had indeed been a bluff. She was not going to torture this woman to get information. And in truth, she saw well why Nona was reluctant to talk. That she had also turned over the name of the guilty person would not matter to the innocent. And they would work their revenge on Nona, who would be helpless to prevent it.

"We will need Lozzi's help," Sara said, as if reading through the wall Tess had put around her thoughts. "Nona, Lozzi will be coming with us in the coming campaign. She will doubtless want you at her side, and we would want her in no other arms. So you will not be staying here at the palace, regardless. There is no need to fear retribution, for both you and Lozzi will be in our care."

"You cannot protect me from her," Nona said, shaking her head. "Not even Ilduin power is that strong."

"Who?" Tess asked, stepping forward.

But Sara put a hand on Tess's arm. "She doesn't have to tell us, sister."

"She must!" Tess said. "Someone tortured and used a young girl. They must pay for that atrocity!"

"No," Sara said, her grip tightening. "Sister, she doesn't have to tell us. For I already know."

"What?" Tess asked, looking at Sara.

Something in Sara's eyes said let me in. Tess did, and in an instant, she knew Sara was right.

Tess looked down at the captive Ilduin. She wondered how long the emperor's mother had been enslaved. And, more important, by whom. She suspected she would never know the answer to the first question. But if experience was any guide, she would soon know the answer to the second.

Fetzza had once been a beautiful woman. That much was obvious. She had high, patrician cheekbones and green eyes that must have once fetched many a man's gaze. Now she lay on a sumptuous bed, surrounded by every creature comfort a son such as hers could provide. Yet, Tess saw, she was hardly comfortable. And if ever she had known true happiness, those days had long passed.

"You cannot win," Fetzza said, scorn in her eye. "My master is far stronger than you will ever know."

"You are enslaved," Tess said, trying to reconcile this woman's behavior with what she had seen of Sara's mother in Lorense. Surely Fetzza must be as innocent as Mara had been. "Your mind is hostage to evil, sister."

"Sister?" The woman nearly spat out the word. "You are no sister of mine. I would not share blood with such...weakness!"

"Surely you recognize Ilduin kin," Sara said.

Fetzza shook a bony finger at the three of them. "You are but pale shadows of what Ilduin should be! Afraid to claim your birthrights as daughters of the gods, and mothers of the world. For it was through us that the gods birthed all life! You were born to rule, and instead you cower behind kindness."

"I cower not before you," Cilla said, stepping forward. "I do not fear those who have been spoiled by power. And I will not fear those who have enslaved my own brothers and sisters."

"We birthed you for slavery!" Fetzza shouted at her. "Your kind are sheep and were always to be thus. Your illusion of freedom will not long last. Your army will be crushed. And you will wipe the pus from my bedsores as I serve the one, true Power."

"Step back, Cilla," Sara said. "She seeks to goad us into rage. She wants us to fall with her."

"And you," Fetzza said, fixing Sara in her icy gaze. "Your mother was pathetic, a village cow whose udders could nurse no one better than Lantav Glassidor. You thought you won a victory when you freed her. But look now at what lies in the north."

Suddenly Tess's mind was flooded with images. In the town of Derda, famine still ruled the land, the frozen dead were stacked like cordwood outside the city gates, their bodies raided in the night by those who could find no other sustenance. And in Whitewater, the Deepwell Inn filled to bursting with the cold and the needy under a shoulder-deep layer of snow. Bandylegs withered as he parsed out the last of his food with eyes that knew there was not enough.

"He's dying!" Sara said, hands quaking.

"By his own weakness," Fetzza said. "If he were to care for his own needs, he might have enough to endure. But no. His own kindness will kill him."

"Enough!" Tess said, now restraining Sara.

The woman was playing on their anger, tempting them one by one to fall into the abyss that was her home. Tess tried to probe the woman's mind, to search out the identity of Fetzza's tempter, but it was like battering herself against a wall.

"And there is the Weaver," Fetzza said, turning to Tess. "Trying to learn who seduced me? No one! I merely see the truth, and I am not such a fool as to align myself and my son with the weak and the sheep. And I certainly will not bow to the nameless spawn of a whore."

"I do not fear your lies," Tess said, meeting her gaze, unflinching.

"Then fear the truth!" Fetzza said.

The bitter waves of memory crashed through Tess like the surge of a raging storm. Watching her mother dress for the evening in a short leather skirt and obscenely high heels. Sitting in their filthy apartment, with nothing but the scent of decay and the wails of sirens to rock her to sleep, until her mother came home in the wee hours, reeking of sweat and men. The sound of her mother showering, furiously scrubbing herself, trying to wash away the stain on her soul. And then her mother slipping into the small bed that they shared, Tess's tears falling as she tried not to let her mother know she was awake, her mother whispering to whatever gods might care that soon, soon, she would get them out of here.

Tess saw clearly the day when her mother moved them into the new, clean house. The day her mother walked with her to the new school and signed the papers and explained that she and Tess did not have the same last name, handing over Tess's birth certificate as proof that she was in fact her daughter. That night Tess had asked why her last name was Birdsong when her mother's name was Palmer. She was born in early spring, and her mother had listened to the birds singing as she had made her way to the hospital to give birth. Only years later had Tess learned that her mother never knew which of her tricks had spawned her.

In all of these months, Tess had never remembered a father, and now she knew why. She had never had one.

Fetzza was no longer broadcasting the memories. There was no need to, for now they flooded unbidden. Her mother had worked as a receptionist after she had gotten off the streets. The table had been spare and the larder lean, but her mother had scraped every dime to hold on to the house and keep Tess in a school where everyone else seemed to despise her because she was from the wrong side of town. Tess had taken their spite and turned it into a fiercely competitive nature, throwing herself into her schoolwork with a fanaticism that even her teachers sometimes found daunting. She had been determined to exceed everyone's expectations, to prove her worth in the world.

All of that had changed on the cold autumn day that her only friend, Gail, had undressed to shower after gym class. Tess had seen the cigarette burns on her belly, and had immediately known what they were. Her mother had more than once come home with bruises and burns, back when she had been on the streets, and a tiny Tess had helped to tend them. Tess had not quailed from the horror as a child, and she had not quailed from it as an adolescent.

She had pressed Gail for answers, long into the evening as they sat in the grass on a hill outside of town, looking up into the sky, watching the clouds redden as the story poured out. She had taken Gail home with her that night. The next day she and her mother had walked Gail to the police station, where Gail had begun to describe the horror of her life at home.

Gail had been inside, telling her story to the young female detective, when Tess's mother had suggested that she and Tess get lunch at the small diner across the street. The diner was a special treat, a place Tess had always looked forward to, for they could only afford to eat there once a month.

She had not eaten there that day.

She had never eaten there again.

For they had never reached the far side of the street. The truck had come out of nowhere, and in the time it took to hear the screech of tires and the blare of the horn and the sickening thud, Tess had found herself looking at her mother's limp body, then kneeling beside it, trying to tend wounds that could never be tended.

Instead, she could only hold her mother's hand as she died, tears falling onto her mother's bloodstained face, a face that finally knew peace.

Tess came out of the reverie slowly, realizing she had sagged against her sisters, tears once again rolling down her face. She was Tess because her mother had once prayed to Saint Theresa. She was Birdsong because the birds had been singing as her mother walked to the hospital. She had no father, save for whatever man had paid to deposit his seed in her mother's body.

But if she was the nameless daughter of a whore, she was also the daughter of a mother who had fought her way out of a depth Tess had never imagined, and who had chosen for her names that captured the few good memories she had.

And it was the memory of that woman that had caused Tess to get the tattoo of the white rose on her ankle. Roses had been her mother's favorite flower, and white represented purity.

But there was more, much more. Tess understood with blinding clarity that her mother had chosen that life to protect her daughter. Had chosen, as an Ilduin, to raise Tess in the comparative safety of a different world until the moment came for Tess to assume the prophesied burden. Her mother had chosen that hardscrabble life for no other reason than to ensure that Tess would not be discovered by Ardred.

Tess lifted her head and looked at Fetzza. "If you think that memories of a mother's love will enrage me, you know nothing, old woman. My mother was more worthy than you could ever be."

Fetzza's eyes flared with the knowledge that she could not win this battle of wills, and her hand reached beneath her pillow for the dagger. Ilduin Bane dripped from the blade as she drew it back, taking aim for Tess's chest.

"Sha non!" Tess cried, glaring at the woman.

The woman's hand froze in midair, the dagger slipping from weakened fingers, tumbling once before falling blade down through her nightclothes and pricking her pale belly. A scream rose from her throat as the poison went to work, her skin peeling back in gray ash, blackness spreading through her innards.

"No!" Maluzza said, bursting into the room, rushing to his mother's bed.

"Touch her not!" Tess said. "Let not her poison work on anyone but herself."

He froze, hands pressed to his ears to close out her screams, eyes squeezed shut to keep away the horror of her body rotting right before them. Only when the last scream had echoed through the palace halls could he bear to look up at the sooty stain that had once been his mother.

"She...she..." he stammered.

"She was once your mother," Tess said. "But that was long ago. For far too long she was the Enemy's mistress."

"Perhaps," he said, wiping tears from his eyes. "But I cannot remember her thus."

"No," Tess said. "You cannot."

"Let us leave here," he said. "I will close up this room. No one will enter it, ever again."

Tess nodded. It was a grander crypt than the woman she had seen deserved, but a fitting resting place for the woman who had been Maluzza's mother.

"Aye, let us leave here," she said. "The Enemy must be stopped. No other mother should bear this stain."

"We must find Lozzi," Cilla said. "She will now come into her powers and will need guidance."

"And there is another in the palace," Sara announced. "I sensed her earlier. She was not the focus of the hive, but she was most certainly part of it."

Cilla answered angrily. "She will certainly become the focus now."

But Tess, who had given up trying to measure her powers or the growth of them, or to even figure out how she was using them, closed her eyes a moment and pointed toward the left. "She is that way. And she has been struggling."

She reached out and dared to touch the emperor. He did not appear to mind. "Go to your daughter. You and Nona keep her safe, for now that your mother has died, the Ilduin power in her will begin to emerge. If she was a target before, she will be even more so now."

He nodded, looking almost relieved to have someone tell him what to do. The shock of his mother's horrific death, and possibly of her betrayal, had shaken him to his core. When he walked away toward the audience chamber, his posture lacked some of its earlier confidence.

"Can we find our way through this warren?" Sara asked. "The corridors are a maze and I doubt I could find my way back out the same way I came in."

"Can you not sense her?" Tess asked. "We have merely to follow that trail."

"I get only a general feeling."

"I, too," Cilla said.

"Then follow me." Because, in some corner of her mind, Tess had seen the warp and woof underlying reality, and on the fabric she could not only see the blackened area to the northwest where Ardred awaited them, but much closer, she could see the frail light of another Ilduin, a light that was surrounded by distorted threads of reality like a trap.

She needed little else to guide her. Striding down the corridor, she heard her sisters follow.

Even in its interior, the palace sacrificed none of its security. Corridors wound, then turned sharply, branching off into other winding corridors. Yet somehow there was a plan to this seeming madness or no one would ever be able to navigate this place.

Reaching for the pouch at her neck, Tess poured the stones into her palm. The amethyst one glowed brightly. Returning the others to the bag, Tess held the amethyst out before her. Each time she prepared to take a turn, it acted like a guide, fading when she started to go the wrong way, brightening when she chose the right path.

Her unknown sister was aiding her. Tess's heart beat more strongly with hope. "She is not utterly lost. She calls us."

"Or is being used to call us," Cilla cautioned.

The warning weighed heavily on Tess as she followed the beacon in her palm. With her sisters beside her, she ought to be able to withstand a single Ilduin. And it certainly seemed that whatever powers Ardred might retain he still needed Ilduin to work his worst.

At least for now.

Finally they reached a door.

"She is here," Sara said. "I can feel her."

"As can I," Cilla agreed.

The amethyst in Tess's palm shone brightly with the same message. Slowly she closed her fingers around it, concealing it.

Sara reached out and rapped on the door. There was no answer. Glancing at the other two as if in question, she then reached out and pushed the door open.

They saw a middle-aged woman rocking rapidly in a rocking chair beside a narrow bed. She stared blindly into space, her face contorted.

"Sister," Sara said quietly, and stepped into the room. "Sister, can you hear me?"

The woman's head turned, her eyes seeming to reflect the blackness of evil. "Help me," she whispered.

As soon the words escaped her, she contorted with pain and screamed. Ardred's attempt to fully possess her threatened to tear her apart.

Sara, Cilla and Tess quickly gathered round her and linked hands. With heads bowed and eyes closed, they sought the power their birthright had given them.

But this time was not as easy as before. Before they had been dealing first with a child who had not attained her powers and then with an old woman who, Tess suspected, had been on her way to being discarded by Ardred.

This time Ardred didn't want to let go, and the Ilduin who controlled his hives for him fought hard to retain control over this woman.

This struggle, Tess realized with dawning horror, as she felt chill, oily fingers in her mind, could entrap any one of them.

Or it could end in death.

Ardred leaned near the ear of the old crone, crooning softly. Ignoring the stench of rot that forever rose from her was difficult, but he had far more important things in mind.

"Do you see her?" he asked quietly. "My Tess? Can you pick her out?"

The Ilduin who had spent much of her adult life honing her powers under the boot and prodding of Ardred, nodded slowly, her sightless eyes seeing what he could not.

"She stands with the others around Yazzi. They have joined as one to fight me."

"All you need to do is make a little distraction," he murmured softly in her ear, almost like a lover. "Enough that you can slip into Tess and command her."

"She already resists my touch."

"She is joining with other Ilduin," he said more sharply. "That leaves her open to you."

"It would," the crone said bitterly, "if your stamp weren't all over my touch."

Enraged, Ardred reared back and slapped the woman on the side of her head. "Find a way! Disguise yourself! Invite yourself into the circle she creates! Do it."

"Or what?" the crone demanded. "What will you do? Kill me? Then who will you have to do this work for you?"

"There are others."

"Oh, aye, there are others," she retorted. "But none as powerful as I. No other could do what I do for you."

"My Tess could."

She laughed, a sound as dry and brittle as old leaves tossed by the wind. "You need me to control her. No other can."

"Defy me, old woman, and I may decide to wait to correct the evils of the past. After all, I have all eternity. You have only as long as I choose to give you."

"I pity you," she said. "Nothing could induce me to live forever."

He raised his hand to hit her again, then thought better of it. Reining his temper, he gentled his voice, turning on every bit of the charm that had swayed thousands.

"You forget," he said softly, "why we do this."

"Do I? I have created blight at your behest, and thousands have died. How will that reunite the world and restore the glory and beauty of the Firstborn?"

Gently, gently, he touched her bony shoulder. "I have told you," he said patiently. "Many died because of my brother. 'Twere there any other way, I would use it. But the gods exact their due, Hesta. They are still angry over my brother's arrogance. And they are still angry that I failed to deal with him in time to save the first world. I need to flush him out, bring him to me on the plain of glass. I need to face him on the ground he destroyed, on the graves of the thousands he killed. A balance must be maintained."

The crone lowered her head. "Balance is always needed."

"What we do now restores balance. And it brings my brother to me that I may smite him as I should have done so long ago. He must come to me to defend the people of this world, in order to atone for his past evils. And I must exact the penalties set by the gods."

"You will kill your brother."

"It is ordained."

"And you will take control of the Weaver."

"That is also ordained."

"And you will kill me."

"Not if you help me."

The old woman sighed. "Kill me," she said. "I have no desire to live. Promise me that when this is done, you will set me free."

He agreed, his tone leaden with reluctance he did not feel. He had every intention of ridding himself of this Ilduin as soon as Tess, the Weaver, belonged to him in mind as well as body.

"As you wish," he said. "But 'twere a pity if you miss seeing her reknit the worlds."

"I have known only one world, and 'tis bitter enough." She sighed, then bowed her head. "Leave me. I cannot bear distraction while I do this thing for you."

Ardred hesitated only briefly, then took himself from the room. Outside he had other matters to occupy his attention, including overseeing the final distribution of Ilduin Bane to his hives who were gathering for the confrontation before his keep. This poison alone could kill Ilduin, but his armies were quite clear on its use. The poison-dipped daggers were only to be drawn if Ardred himself ordered it.

And that, he thought with a smile, would depend on who decided life under his control was better than death.

As for Tess...he knew in his heart that the gods were at last granting him the gift of which he had been deprived so long ago. Theriel had refused to come to him. But Tess would not.

No, Tess was his, and with him she would rule over the reunited world.

The future, he thought with pleasure, would be as glorious as the distant past.

For those who agreed with him.

The cold dark touch recoiled, and Tess drew a long, relieved breath before plunging herself into the circle she was creating with her sisters.

Sara and Cilla became comforting presences within her once again. In these moments, they ceased to be three distinct entities, but instead melded into a place somewhere between three and one. And in their midst now, surrounded by them, lay the tortured mind and heart of the Ilduin they sought to free.

With eyes closed, Tess watched the rainbow grow among them and around them, scintillating light so pure that even when seen only with the inner eye it inspired an awe near pain.

But then, slowly, she began to see what lay behind it. Gradually her mind revealed to her the golden fabric underlying reality, the warp and woof of the world. There she could see their circle, a brilliant golden light dancing along the threads around a tiny dark spot.

And then she saw the black streak that stretched away from them toward the inky, distorted part of the web controlled by Ardred.

Fear made her heart leap uncomfortably. The darkness was so great, so enormous compared to their small area of golden light. How were they to withstand such a blight? How could it possibly be mended?

With every ounce of energy she possessed, she willed the darkness back from them. It almost seemed to recoil, then stiffened again. Yet it came no closer. Little by little she could almost see it shrink. Part of her wondered if the shrinkage was real or merely an artifact of her wishful thinking.

But as it pulled back, the dark spot in the golden fabric that represented their sister Ilduin shrank. Then, with a pop, it vanished.

At once she felt relief from Cilla and Sara, felt their awareness that the evil had fled from this room. Before Tess could react, the other two grasped the hands of the freed Ilduin and drew her into their circle.

For an instant, they were utterly open in welcome.

And then she heard a voice cry out in her head, "Save me, Sister!"

At once her attention was drawn to the blot of darkness that sullied the golden fabric. Again she heard the cry. Then, in the instant before her sisters could close the circle, she felt the other Ilduin connect with her.

Oily. Cold. Repellent. In trouble. The shock struck her like an ice bath, causing her eyes to fly open and her entire body to stiffen. With every ounce of strength and will she possessed, she tried to drive the presence away, tried to close the connection.

Then her entire world turned black.

Into the blackness emerged the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His hair looked like spun gold, and his eyes were the blue of a summer sky. Garbed all in white, he stepped slowly toward her.

"My love," he said, his voice as smooth and golden as honey. "I have waited so long for you."

She felt as if she knew him, yet had never met him. His pull was incredible, drawing her closer to him even though part of her remained uncertain. "I don't know you."

The closer she drew to him, the bluer his eyes seemed to grow. He smiled, an expression of such warmth that she ached to know more of it.

"You will know me," he promised. "We are destined, my love."

Then his arms closed around her and she felt peace, such peace....

Everyone gathered around Tess, who lay on a bed hastily arranged for her: Archer, Tom, Erkiah, Cilla and Sara. Even the emperor and his daughter stood nearby looking concerned and the Ilduin who had recently been freed, a woman named Yazzi, sat weakly in a chair, clearly drained by all that had just happened.

"She's gone," Sara said, anguished. "I cannot feel her!"

"Nor I," said Cilla. She frowned so deeply her entire face sagged.

Archer sat beside Tess on the pallet and leaned over her, cupping her cheek with one hand. "Tess," he murmured. "Tess, come to me. You must come back to me."

"It happened when we opened the circle for Yazzi," Sara said to Cilla. "Did you feel it? I think the other one joined us."

"The evil one," Cilla agreed, nodding. "I think you are right. Something cold touched her then."

Archer looked up. "Something cold has been trying to seep into her from the beginning of our journey together. So far she has fought it back. What changed?"

Yazzi spoke for the first time since thanking them with all her heart for freeing her. "You opened the circle to welcome me, and at that moment any Ilduin could join. It was then the other one made her move. And my feeling is that she knew exactly who she wanted to take."

Cilla scowled. "I fear you are right, Yazzi."

"I have had some months to get the measure of this one. She is powerful, very powerful, else I could have held her off. The most powerful of all Ilduin."

Sara shook her head. "I don't believe it. I can't believe it. The Weaver must be stronger."

Tom spoke for the first time. "Safe shall she come to Arderon, unmolested, she who holds the warp and woof."

All except Archer turned to look at him. Tom's mask once again covered his eyes, making him difficult to read.

Sara reached for his hand. "Are you sure?"

He turned his head toward her. "The gods will not be cheated of their game. We must take her with us."

"My lady," Archer murmured. Reaching out, he lifted Tess from the pillow and cradled her close to his chest. "He shall not have her."

"That is part of what lies in the balance," Tom said. "And I fear that is beyond prophesy." His gaze settled on Archer. "All is beyond the reach of prophesy now, for the outcome lies within you, within all of us. But you...Archer, take care. For I can feel that the gods care not whether you live or die."

"Nor do I," he said simply. "Nor do I. I care only for you, my companions and Tess."

"But," said Lozzi, speaking for the first time and stepping forward from beneath the protection of her father's arm, "he will not harm Tess while he thinks he has her, nor will he harm those who bring her to him. So she will come safely as the prophet has said. When we arrive..."

"You are not going," the emperor told her sternly.

The girl faced him. "I am, Father. I have been touched by what the Enemy would do to us all. I cannot stand by and watch while others fight him. If I can help at all, then I must."

"She can help," Yazzi said. "I was brought here to train her. Little did I know it was a ruse to capture me. But it is a ruse no longer."

Sara nodded. "We shall all train her. And help one another through the days to come."

Archer finally looked up from Tess and scanned all their faces. "Regardless what else may happen twixt now and then, we must march on the morrow at dawn. He has done enough damage."

He looked sternly at the emperor. "If you cannot make your legions join the Anari in this fight, then we shall go alone. But go we will, before he exacts another toll, one higher than any of us can pay."

Another legion arrived overnight, and messengers had been sent for two others. At dawn two days later, fully three Bozandari legions stood in formation on the plain north of the city. Approaching from the hills came the combined army of the Snow Wolves, banners held high like the signal of a new age.

Those among the Bozandari who might have refused to believe their orders stopped grumbling and arguing when the emperor rode forth in battle splendor, his renowned armor and his personal flag of a gold coronet on a blue background unmistakable to even the lowliest ranks.

Soon displeasure was replaced by amazement, for under the red sky of dawn, the emperor rode forth to meet the Snow Wolves, and he rode with only his cousins Tuzza and Alezzi.

Tuzza introduced the emperor to Ratha and Jenah. Maluzzi was more than polite to them. He gripped hands with them both. "So you are the generals who defeated Tuzza," he said, a wry little smile on his mouth.

Ratha and Jenha exchanged looks. It was Ratha who spoke. "With the aid of Annuvil and the Weaver, aye."

"I shall look for their aid as well as yours in the days ahead. I am sure we are all equally sorry to be living out the days of prophecy."

"'Twould not be my choice," Jenah said boldly.

The emperor cocked his head to one side. "I am proud to ride beside you. And rest assured, I am not proud of what my people did to yours. There will be no more slavery from this day forth, and those who engage in it will face death. This is my promise to you. I wish only that I had had the courage to act before so many died."

After a moment, Ratha cleared his throat. "It speaks highly of you that you have acted at all."

Maluzza shook his head. "It speaks poorly of me that it took so long. Now we ride forth to face an evil that would make slaves of us all. And we ride under greater burden than you imagine."

"Why so?" Ratha asked.

"Tess," said Tuzza before the emperor could speak. "Tess. The Evil One has claimed her. She comes with us, but she cannot wake from his hold."

Ratha lowered his head, and his hands tightened. After a moment he said, "Then we must save her. And the others?"

"Cilla, Sara and Tom are with her, along with two other Ilduin. One is the emperor's young daughter. You must keep an eye on her, Ratha," Tuzza said. "Please. She is only a child."

"I will. I will ensure that all of them are protected."

"They will come up behind the rest of us," Alezzi said. "With the rear guard. Perhaps some of the newly freed Anari can help there, until they learn more battle skills."

Jenah nodded. "They will be glad to be of use. Many have already asked me what they can do, but little enough they know of battles. They have no training. But there is also another group."

"There is?" Maluzzi was clearly curious.

"Aye. After our first encounter in battle, the lady Tess healed a great many wounded. Thirty of them swore themselves to her service under Topmark Otteda. They have kept watch over her since as her bodyguard."

"Good," said Maluzzi. "The Weaver must be protected at all costs."

"They will do so with their lives."

"I would expect no less of a soldier of Bozandar."

Then he turned his mount and followed by Alezzi and Tuzza, he galloped toward his own assembled legions.

With raised hands, Ratha and Jenah motioned the Snow Wolves to follow.

Otteda accepted the trust from Annuvil with a great deal of solemnity. He was surprised at how much it hurt him to see the Lady Tess lying silent and as still as stone on the pallet in the covered horse-drawn cart. The four other Ilduin walked on either side of the cart, making a protective phalanx of their own. Annuvil, he who had been a king yet would not wish to be a king again, rode behind them. Otteda wondered why he did not ride at the front of the army where he belonged, then decided it was none of his business.

With a few sharp orders, he brought the thirty men of the lady's sworn bodyguard into position around the carriage and the Ilduin. Annuvil nodded to him, a mark of appreciation.

Otteda dared to approach him. "What has happened to the lady?" he asked.

"The Enemy has attacked her. I know not if he has taken her mind, or if she fights him. None can tell. The veil has been lowered, Otteda."

"What do you mean, my lord?"

Archer looked at him from gray eyes too old and too sorrowful to be merely mortal. "We are walking into the times where none can see the future, for everything depends on the outcome of what we do or fail to do."

Otteda compressed his lips and squared his shoulders. "I have never been able to see into the future so nothing changes for me. I know only that I must do my duty."

Archer reached over and clapped his shoulder briefly. "'Tis as much as any of us can say, I suppose."

"'Tis the most important thing to say. Our duty is clear. I have listened. We will fight the Enemy for the safety of our peoples, our families, our homes. Ever has it been thus. For each man alone, nothing is changed. For the world, the price is higher. I understand that. But for each soldier, what has changed?"

One corner of Archer's mouth lifted. "You are wise, Otteda. Each can only do what is in his own power."

"Aye. Still, I would feel much happier if the Weaver were awake."

"So would I. Indeed, so would I."

Otteda fell silent, the Lord Annuvil's sorrow a palpable thing to him. He couldn't imagine the trials this man had suffered, couldn't imagine what his life must have been like. Couldn't imagine having endured it for so long.

Yet he supposed there were those who couldn't imagine living Otteda's life. At fourteen he had entered the Legion School, and spent the next four years training to become exactly what he had become: an officer in the empire's army. Thence he had gone straight to his legion and had stayed with the same legion ever since. He enjoyed the times when he could find a woman to keep him warm, or could spend a night in a town drinking at a tavern, but he rarely sought more. He had his duty, and seemed to need little else other than the companionship of his fellows.

In short, he was ideally suited to the life his family had chosen for him. For that alone he was grateful.

His days were ordered, his path straight. Until he had sworn allegiance to the Lady Tess, he realized now as he glanced over at her motionless form. At that moment the neat and predictable order of his days, though he had not seen it at the time, had been forever changed.

The Lord Annuvil was right, he realized. They were truly marching into the unknown, to a place where there would be few signposts to guide them.

As they marched northwest toward Arderon, toward the mountains, the terrain became increasingly more forbidding and more difficult to traverse. They were skirting the southern edge of the Deder Desert, long the province of cutthroats and thieves. While such were no threat to an army, the officers took care to ensure that foraging parties went out in strength. Even so, their gleanings grew leaner, for even the dry plains surrounding the Deder seemed desolate as compared to the Anari lands. They were not helped by the fact that Arderon was more a rumor than a place. If anyone had ever gone there, he had never returned. Rumors of its existence had existed since time out of mind, but not even Archer knew its location.

The Ilduin assured the army's leaders that it did indeed exist, but only Yazzi seemed to have a clear idea of where.

"While I was possessed," she said on the second night of their march, "a memory was impressed upon me. Not my own, I am sure. It must belong to the Ilduin who imprisoned me. But she was in Arderon, and she knew its location."

Annuvil, who sat on the cot beside Tess in the huge tent that served as headquarters and residence to the Ilduin, spoke. "You can guide us there?"

Yazzi hesitated. "I think so. I would feel better if I draw it on a map."

Maluzza, the emperor spoke. "But you believe we are so far headed in the right direction?"

Yazzi nodded. "Though I have never been there, I know that it lies beyond the Plain of Dederand, beyond the Sea of Glass."

"No one ever goes there," Maluzzi remarked.

Tuzza nodded his agreement. "Which is perhaps why Arderon has remained nothing but a rumor all these years. Past the Sea of Glass, the mountains become nearly impassible. To my knowledge, no one has ever crossed them or dwelt there."

Yazzi spoke. "They can be crossed. There is a way."

Maluzza rubbed his chin and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Alezzi and Tuzza. "What say you? Will it be a trap?"

"It is likely," Tuzza responded. "Would he put his city in a place easy to attack? We will need to draw him out."

"You may draw his army out," Annuvil said, "but you will not draw him out."

"Then what?" demanded Maluzza. "You say we must be rid of him, yet it appears we cannot reach him."

"The armies may not be able to reach him. But a small party can."

"I like this not," Maluzza said.

"It remains, we must defeat his hives and armies as well as him."

"Aye," said Tuzza. "I have no argument against that. Mayhap we will proceed one step at a time."

At that moment, a dusty messenger entered the tent and stood at attention, waiting to be acknowledged.

"What is it?" the emperor said.

"Two more legions join us by dawn, my emperor. And behind them come two more."

Maluzza nodded. "Good. Excellent. Go rest and eat."

The messenger bowed, then slipped from the tent.

"We will be strong enough then," Alezzi observed.

"For the first part at least," agreed Annuvil. He lifted Tess's hand and gently stroked the back of it. "For the rest...for the rest we need her, or all is lost."

Uneasiness lay over the armies camped in the foothills of the craggy mountains: uneasiness about the morrow, uneasiness about their alliance. The Snow Wolves camped apart from the others, not as much through their own doubts as because they were made to feel unwelcome by the other legions. And yet, as acceptance and understanding began to filter through the ranks of the Bozandari officers, the atmosphere began a slow but subtle shift.

Ratha and Jenah were astonished by a visit from the overmark of the White Tiger Legion. He stepped through their open tent door boldly enough, the cold air turning his breath into an icy cloud. For long moments he did not speak as he stared at the two Anari sitting at the folding camp table, a map spread before them. They stared back, watchful, distrustful.

Finally the dark-haired Bozandari officer spoke. "I am Overmark Suzza of the White Tiger Legion," he said.

Ratha rose. "Ratha Monabi, co-commander of the Snow Wolves. This is my second, Jenah Gewindi." He inclined his head respectfully, and Overmark Suzza answered with an equally respectful bow.

"It seems we have become allies," Suzza said after a moment's hesitation.

"Aye," Ratha agreed. "Necessity makes for odd companions."

A faint smile lifted the corners of Suzza's mouth. "I am cold," he said. "You have a warm fire. Perhaps, if you do not object too much, I might bide with you a little while. It seems to me that if we are to fight a common enemy, we would do well to get to know each other."

Ratha nodded slowly and motioned to a chair near the fire pit. A column of smoke rose from the burning logs and vanished through the vent above that revealed the brightest of the night's stars.

The overmark bowed again, then took the offered seat.

"Would you like hot ale?" Jenah asked. "We were about to pour some ourselves."

"It would delight me," Suzza said with a friendlier smile. The tankards were filled, then the chair moved so that the three men sat around the fire pit facing one another. Suzza offered a silent toast, and the other two responded.

"This is difficult," Suzza said. "I am certain it is as difficult for you as it is for my soldiers. For so long you were our prey. You must loathe us. And some among my soldiers lost loved ones in the recent slave rebellion. So they are rather hardened and bitter."

"So it is," Ratha agreed. "Tuzza killed my brother. After my brother killed his cousin."

Suzza nodded and swigged his ale. "I cannot pretend I come with clean hands. But unlike my men, I have heard from the lips of my emperor why it is we unite. Why we must unite. And why, in the end, we must learn to live together."

Ratha lifted a questioning brow.

Suzza held out his tankard and thanked Jenah for the refill. "Among my studies in my youth, before I trained in soldiering--which was required of me as the younger son of nobility and the cousin of our emperor--I was taught some philosophy. I believe you know my teacher, Erkiah."

"Indeed!" said Ratha. "He travels with us."

"I have heard. With the Foundling and the Weaver, is that not so?"

"Aye, it is."

Suzza nodded. "Erkiah taught me many things, some of which I was later taught to scorn. Building an empire hardens men, Ratha Monabi. It hardens hearts and minds and perhaps even spirits." Abruptly he shook his head. "No perhaps about it. It hardens the spirit. Since the age of sixteen summers, I have carried a sword, and I can no longer remember the faces of all I have slain, though they sometimes come to my dreams to remind me. This was my duty. I have been awarded many honors."

Ratha nodded, his face expressionless.

Suzza sighed. "I cannot say, however, that fulfilling my duty has made me proud. Blame Erkiah for that. He attempted to make me see a different way. Some of his teaching remained with me through it all."

Ratha nodded. "I was not raised to fight."

"No." Suzza looked into his mug, nodding. "But for me and my ilk, you would have been left peacefully in your villages creating the beauty from stone that was our first reason to take you into our cities." He looked up, smiling crookedly. "I have always suspected that your people never built as well for Bozandar as they did for themselves."

A sly grin crossed Ratha's face. "Perhaps their hearts weren't in it."

"Most likely." Suzza shook his head and gave a short laugh. "However it happened, we are here now. Erkiah told me all those many years ago that if I didn't get myself killed in some battle or other, I would live to see prophecy fulfilled. And here I am."

"Aye," Jenah said, pouring more ale all around. "Here are we all. An uneasy alliance against a threat I doubt we even begin to understand."

"I fear you are right," Suzza said. "As a youth, Erkiah's words thrilled me. How much more could a lad ask for than to be involved in the fulfillment of a prophecy. Now..." He shook his head ruefully. "I would say I wished we were already past it, except that there is no way to know what awaits us on the other side if we fail."

"We will not fail," Ratha said firmly. "We will not because we must not."

Suzza nodded agreement. "Is the Weaver as powerful as I hear?"

"In truth," Ratha said, "I am not sure that even she knows the limits of her power yet. She forever seems to find it within her to do greater and greater magicks."

"That is good." Suzza took another swig of his ale. "Well, my new friends, I came to promise you something."

"Aye?" Ratha questioned.

"Aye. Regardless of the difficulty my soldiers may feel in joining with your army, regardless of how they may feel about Anari, they will follow their orders. You need not fear them."

"Then they need not fear us."

Suzza nodded. "Right now, I think that is all we can hope for."

The armies followed the Panthea River for nearly two weeks, climbing steadily through rolling hills, before they reached the foothills of the Panthos Mountains. Another three days' march north brought them to the Aremnos River. Now the army turned west into the broken foothills of the Panthos range, following the river toward the place where Yazzi claimed that Arderon lay.

With each step forward toward the saw-toothed, towering peaks ahead, the armies drew closer to the place where the glorious city of Dederand had long ago existed. The upper two-thirds of that mountain had been hewn off in the firestorm, and what remained was now known as the Ardusa Mesa, but to Archer it would forever be engraved on his mind and soul as the Plain of Dederand, and the Sea of Glass. With each step, Archer's heart grew heavier. When he had come to this mesa in the past, it had been to visit his own failings and his ghosts.

This time his ghosts did not await his arrival. Already they rode his neck and shoulders like the blast of an ice storm, reminding him.

Reminding him.

Almost without realizing it, he began to talk, a quiet murmur that probably most around him could not hear, not Otteda's bodyguard nor the other Ilduin who walked behind Tess's pallet, apparently to give him privacy with her.

Any other time, he would have been amused. But with Dederand up ahead, little could amuse him. He scanned the surrounding rock formations, pointed spires that were the lone remnants of what had once been lush green hills.

"I used to love to ride this way to Dederand," he said quietly, his words for Tess's ears alone. And had he thought she could hear him, he might have spoken other words entirely.

"Once there was a wide avenue through here, frequented by tradesmen and travelers. All around the hills blossomed with trees and flowers. The beauty of these hills was in large part the reason so many Samari decided to build a city here, rather than below on the water. First there were a few villas, small ones, used as retreats by those who sought the quiet of the country as a relief from the bustle of the city. But within a few years, the villas grew in number, then the trades they needed followed them, and then, one day it became a city named Dederand. Second City. It seemed like a great thing when our father chose to name Ardred as king of Dederand. The residents of the city celebrated with such joy, for they felt they had taken their place as equals with Samarand."

He sighed. "An odd thing, surely since all came from Samarand to begin with, and many still had homes there."

He closed his eyes, remembering the day of Ardred's coronation, when rose petals had strewn the entire avenue between the cities, when flower petals had seemed to fill the air and the people of two cities celebrated with unadulterated joy the coronations of Ardred and Annuvil as lesser kings of their cities.

To Annuvil, at the time, it had seemed more like an excuse for a celebration than anything more. His father, the High King, had managed to rule quite well without assistance other than his council for many, many years. Neither of his sons had needed a coronet, nor had both cities needed their own kings.

But he had not questioned, for it had been his father's will. Besides, he had been too busy mooning after Theriel and wondering if she would ever cast her eye his way.

But as the way steepened and he rode closer to Dederand, it now seemed to him that it was that day, that decision, that had set the Samari on the course of destruction.

Perhaps the love of power had always been part of Ardred's makeup, or perhaps he had learned it as king of Dederand. However it was, the coronation had been the beginning of the biggest changes in him.

"I should have seen," he murmured now to the unconscious Tess. "I should have seen that Ardred was in trouble, instead of seeing only that he grew into a nuisance. Somehow I should have averted the course of the horrible things to come. Instead I was preoccupied and unaware, and by the time I saw the truth, it was too late to stop anything. I have only myself to blame."

How could he have failed to see the changes taking place in his younger twin? Even a man falling in love with the most enchanting woman ever created by the gods should surely have seen beyond the end of his own nose.

He could only lay it to willful blindness. He had not wanted to see. He had not wanted to be distracted from Theriel.

His selfishness had led to the tragedies as surely as anything else that had happened. Even thinking of it made his chest tighten with pain. He had betrayed them all, his brother, his Theriel, his people.

Out of mere selfishness.

"I am so sorry," he murmured to the ghosts that crowded his memory and mind. "I am so, so sorry."

He must not fail this time, he reminded himself. He must save these people who had grown in the place of the Firstborn, must protect them against evils they really couldn't begin to imagine. Even when they looked upon the plain of Dederand, and the Sea of Glass, he doubted they would grasp the evils that had been unleashed. That could once again be unleashed.

"It is so dark."

Startled by the sound of Tess's voice, he glanced down at her and saw that she still slept. At once he slipped from his saddle to walk beside her litter. Not caring who might see, he reached out and grasped her hand. "We approach Dederand," he said.

"So dark," she murmured. "Everything here is blighted."

"Aye."

"So dark," she repeated as if unaware of him. "The scar...the scar...the darkness here reaches deeper than reality. What? What?"

Then she fell silent again, and a small sigh fluttered past her lips. Her hand in his had remained slack the entire time.

He swallowed, squeezing his feelings back into the box inside his chest, which was the only safe place for them. If he ever let them out, he did not want to think of what he might be capable.

Deeper than reality. Her murmured words returned to him and he felt a jolt. The darkness here reaches deeper than reality.

He looked around, noting the rock spires, seeing that in some places burn marks still survived. "Cilla?" he called out.

"Aye, my lord?" She was walking with her sisters, and now she strode faster to catch up with him. Despite being an Ilduin, she was still a soldier, and she carried a quiver and bow over her shoulders, and a dirk at her side.

"Cilla, Tess is murmuring in her sleep. She said the darkness here reaches deeper than reality."

Cilla opened her mouth as if she would answer, then quickly closed it. "A moment, my lord."

Gripping the edge of the litter for steadiness, Cilla closed her eyes. Archer watched her from the corner of his eye, noting that after a moment her dark features were suffused with an almost rainbow glow. It shimmered and glowed, and moved in gentle waves over her and about her. Truly, he thought, the Ilduin bore a remarkable beauty. To one with eyes to see, they could never be otherwise.

Slowly Cilla opened her eyes. "I think she is beginning to awaken, Lord Annuvil. A little. There is a struggle."

"But can you tell what she meant? Or was it mere dream rambling?"

Cilla lowered her head. "What our forebears did here left a permanent scar, my lord. It burned through the warp and woof of the world to whatever lies beyond it. I think it will never go away."

Archer's mouth tightened. "I fear not."

Cilla lifted her face, and something very like awe shadowed it now. "I had no idea such was possible."

"The eleven who formed the circle did," he answered grimly. "They sought to retaliate for the murder of Theriel, but this...this is beyond that."

"I agree."

His smile was bitter. "They helped birth the world. I suppose they thought they had a right to unbirth part of it."

"I am glad I know this."

He lifted a brow. "Glad to know this ugliness?"

"Glad to know I have the ability to commit such an atrocity. I will be wary now not to repeat it."

"Good." He walked a few more paces before he spoke again. "You think she may awaken?"

"It feels more likely now. Whatever took her seems to have weakened a bit. Or perhaps she is fighting free. I cannot tell."

He nodded. "Let me know if you sense anything else."

"I will."

She dropped back, leaving him to walk between his mount and the litter, and to wonder if he was equal to the task before him.

Perhaps, he thought, it did not matter which brother died. Perhaps all that mattered was that one of them did. Whatever sport the gods sought in their conflict would then be gone.

And if he died, he could not be responsible for whatever mischief they might devise next.

It was as if the legions came up against a great, invisible wall. Once they emerged from the desolate hills and negotiated the slope of the Ardusa Mesa, they halted. To a man they stopped in their tracks and stared.

Before them lay the Sea of Glass, the place where an entire city and most of the mountain on which it had been built had vanished in a heat and fire so intense that all that remained was black glass, whipped into wavelets as if it were water, frozen for all time.

All had heard of this place, but none had ever dared come here. It was known from earliest childhood that this was a place of unmatched evil, that nothing could grow here, that those who had ventured to cross its vast expanse never returned.

But now they were being asked to march across it, this black sea that devoured the unwary. Not a soldier budged.

Annuvil had ridden to the fore to join the commanders when the army came to a halt. They were all conferring, trying to decide whether to let their armies balk, or order them to march ahead.

"Let them camp here," he said. "'Twill take more than a day to cross the mesa and 'tis better if we start the journey at first light. They are less likely to be unnerved."

The emperor agreed. "The men need time to overcome childhood warnings. Let them rest and accustom themselves to what they see. And send men out among them to remind them that this evil occurred in the distant past. The powers that caused this are no longer with us."

If only that were true, Archer thought, but he remained silent. This time, however, the Ilduin were divided. Five marched with him. Ardred might have taken the other seven. His brother's ability to charm and persuade was in itself a form of magick. Although it was possible, he supposed, that some Ilduin still remained free and unaware of events. Some might not even be aware of their potential.

Even though the ground near the plain was bare of all comfort, rocky and uneven, the soldiers seemed glad not to have to venture out onto the glass yet. They lit fires with what brush they could find, and cooked quick meals. Then they huddled as close as they could get, for the breath of winter, which seemed to have lessened for the past few days, began to deepen again.

Ardred, Archer thought, knew they were here. The cold and snow that had killed so many at Derda was about to be inflicted on this army.

As the temperatures steadily fell, the seasoned troops began to deal with it. They found sheltered places out of the wind, built large fires and surrounded themselves with horses if they had them, transport mules, and every bit of clothing and blankets they carried.

They arranged themselves in circles two deep around their fires, those outside switching with those within often enough to prevent the cold from endangering them.

The Anari, who had until recently never known such cold, were happy to take instruction from the Bozandari members of the Snow Wolves, and soon, light-skinned and dark, they gathered together against the cold. Any distance they had maintained because of past conflicts vanished in the basic need for survival.

A sardonic smile lifted Archer's lips as he watched the transformation take place from the very edge of the plain. "So, brother," he murmured, "did you imagine your winter would tear us apart? For you certainly did not imagine that it would draw former enemies together."

But the cold alone was not enough for Ardred. No. As darkness blanketed the world, snow began to fall, at first with gentle beauty, but then with increasing fury. The flakes turned to icy pebbles, striking with a sting, and the wind picked up even more, finding its way even into the protected crannies the soldiers had found or built and blew hard on the flames of their fires as if trying to extinguish them.

Ignoring the bite of the blizzard, his cape blowing out behind him, then wrapping around him as if it wanted to bind him, Archer walked out on the plain. Alone.

He didn't go far, for the glassy ground was treacherous at the best of times, and the wavelets that covered it were often as sharp as razors. Here, however, the snow could not stay. For whatever reason, the flakes melted the instant they touched the ground, although behind him he could have seen it deepening on the ground where the men camped.

In all the years he had walked this world, in all the times he had come here to brood and remember, he had never seen anything of life on this plateau, not even the snow. Tonight was no different. The icy pellets melted, and even the water they left behind vanished quickly.

Sometimes he wished he could do the same thing. Sometimes he wished he could come out here, lie down and be absorbed into the glass that was the mark of his shame.

Never had it happened.

Now the moment had come. The moment he had yearned for and dreaded ever since this plain had been blasted into reality. The time of his reckoning. The time of Ardred's reckoning. He must face the brother he had not seen since the beginning of the Firstborn Wars, and there was no doubt in his mind that both of them could not survive the meeting.

It filled his heart with grief and anguish, not because he cared whether he died, but because two brothers should not come to this end. Because if two brothers had not come to this to begin with, thousands would never have died, Theriel wouldn't have died, and this plateau wouldn't have been blasted in the world as a reminder of arrogance and evil.

He dropped to his knees, ignoring the harshness of the glass poking into his leathers, and let the tears fall down his cheeks, not caring if they froze there. He had failed his brother and his people, and quite frankly he was not certain that he would not fail them this time.

The wind bit harder but he ignored it. He was not certain he had grown enough or changed enough to avoid failing again. He might be cursed with immortality, but he was also cursed with the same weaknesses and failings of men everywhere. He had been arrogant enough in the past to think he was doing the right thing, and now he knelt on the results of all his mistaken decisions. How could he possibly be certain of what was right now?

The anguish of all that had happened and all that was to happen overcame him then. He bent over, ignoring the press of his sword hilt in his side, until his head nearly touched his knees.

He had been born to such privilege and beauty, and all he had managed to do was create a darkness that spanned the ages.

Death was too good for him.

Tess stood somewhere beyond time, somewhere that appeared to be nowhere. Above, darkness ruled, with not even a star to pierce the void. At her feet lay a featureless, colorless plain that stretched as far as she could see in any direction. That she could see at all when there was no light surprised her.

The beautiful man had long since vanished. He had not achieved whatever he had wanted from her. How she knew, she could not say, but gathered that she had been banished to this place where nothing lived, nothing moved. A prison.

For an eternity, or perhaps two, she neither moved nor really thought. It was as if her mind had been utterly emptied and left as barren as the plain around her, as void as the sky above.

No memories. No wishes. No wants. Non-being.

The last thought frightened her, and with the fright came the first glimmers of memory. Who she was. Who she had been. Where she sought to go.

Not much. Like fireflies the memories darted around her brain, appearing and disappearing, only to reappear in another place. She began to struggle with all her might to grasp even one of them, sensing that if she could hang on to some part of herself, the rest would follow.

Then a voice reached her, seeming to rise from the deepest part of her being. She knew that voice. And she knew that he needed her.

Closing her eyes to banish the prison that held her, she focused on the anguished voice, and formed his face in her mind. Then his name came to her.

Annuvil!

Her eyes popped open, and this time she knew exactly where she was. Knowledge flooded into her and she felt her strength grow.

The wind whistled about him, bitter and clawing, the sleet battered whatever exposed skin it could find. Lost, alone, always so alone, Archer battled his own doubts, his own guilt, his own anguish, for much as he deserved to die, despite how much he had failed, others depended on him now.

Then, barely audible above the wind, he heard a gentle woman's voice. Startled he turned and saw Tess, arrayed in her usual white riding garb, a hooded white cape billowing backward over her shoulders.

"The past is not a prison," she said. "It is a map and a star toward a new path."

Relief at seeing her awake hit him so hard it drove the wind from him, but only for a second. Then her words penetrated, sending a shaft of warmth into his long-riven heart.

"My lady," he said hoarsely. "Thank the gods you have returned."

"Just in time, it seems." She stepped closer, then bent a little as she touched his shoulder. "From somewhere out of my poorly remembered past comes a saying. The only true mistake is the one we do not learn from. You have learned. I know you have learned. And you will not repeat your errors."

"I thought I acted rightly before."

"I know." She lifted her hand and brushed some long strands of dark hair back from his face. "My lord Annuvil, you were young then. Much much younger. Barely a man even in terms of your immortal people. The young are prone to error and arrogance. When I look at you now, I see no arrogance at all. You are not the man you were then. Do not doubt it."

He still knelt on the painful ground before her, and nothing could have prevented him from what he did then. Straightening on his knees, he took her hand in both of his and brought it to his lips, warming her chilled skin with a kiss.

With her other hand, she smoothed his hair back, only to see it tossed again by the wind.

"Come with me," she said gently. "Back to the tent I share with my sisters. 'Twill be a sad day indeed if you freeze out here."

He rose easily to his feet in a single movement. "I will not freeze. I cannot."

She started to smile then, and her impish expression surprised him. "Are you so sure?"

Then she grabbed his hand and tugged him back toward the camp. "Come. My sisters and I will warm you, and we will talk about what lies ahead."

In the tent of the Ilduin it was as if the original party, lacking only Giri, were together again as they had been at the outset of their journey. What had begun as a quest to find the thieves who had so brutally slaughtered a trade caravan had turned into something so much greater, that if any of them thought back to the day they had departed the village of Whitewater, they could scarce believe what they had come to.

"It is ironic," Sara said as they sipped mulled ale around the central fire, the tent walls billowing with each gust of the killing wind, "that it was this very winter that sent Tom and me along with you on your journey to find those who had slaughtered the caravan."

"How so?" Cilla asked.

"We were facing starvation in Whitewater," Sara explained. "Our fields had been blighted by snow and ice just before harvest, and little enough we had remaining from the year before. I insisted on accompanying Archer and your cousins Giri and Ratha in hopes of finding trade to the south so that I could bring food home to my people. My father's ale is usually good coin. Instead...instead I found no food. I found starvation in Derda, and the storm that killed so many. From that point on, I knew my path lay elsewhere."

"Aye," said Tom. "It was then we realized we faced more than unusual weather."

"So, aye," Sara said, "it is ironic, for it was the Enemy's attack by means of weather that led us all to this moment where we will now face him."

Ratha, holding Cilla's hand, cracked a smile. "He may have set his own downfall in motion."

"Let us hope," said Archer. He sat on the ground near the fire, near Tess who sat just behind him on a camp stool.

"He is cunning," she said quietly. "He came to me while I was held in thrall by his Ilduin Hesta."

Archer turned his head immediately, looking at her. "I feared that."

Her small smile held little humor. "I now understand how he could have created such havoc in the past. He is quite beautiful, your brother, and silver-tongued. Had I not known of him already, I would have found it easy to believe that he is all goodness."

"How did you escape his Ilduin?" Cilla asked.

"'Twas not easy. She is very powerful, this one. What is more, unlike me she is very much in command of her powers. However, just as the storm created an irony, I believe his attempt to capture me may have done the same."

"How so?" Archer asked.

Her smile deepened a shade. "While I was held in thrall, I learned from his Ilduin. I am not certain if that was by chance, or if it was what she wished to happen. I certainly felt that she was not entirely happy to be Ardred's pawn. However it may be, I learned much. I think I shall be able to control and use my powers better now."

Sara spoke. "You must teach us, Tess."

Tess bowed her head a moment. "I will teach you what I can. All of you, including Lozzi, for you will need it to protect you. But I sense that in the end..." She trailed off briefly, then lifted her head and looked at her two sisters. "Yazzi is teaching Lozzi, and I must teach her as well. But in the end I believe Annuvil and I shall have to face him alone."

"Alone?" Ratha appeared appalled. "Never!"

"You do not understand," Tess said gently. "It is the Enemy's obsession that drives him. He is obsessed with his brother, and with me. It is the two of us he most wants. While the rest of you can deal with his armies and his other Ilduin and the hives, only the two of us can deal with him. Else he will never cease."

"We can kill him," Ratha said, his hand instinctively falling to his sword hilt.

"You cannot," Annuvil said. "He must be struck with Banedread, or Ilduin fire."

"If I cut off his head--"

"You will not get close enough," Annuvil interrupted. "Trust me on this, Ratha. You will have other tasks of equal importance. If I should fail, at least you can deprive him of his teeth by defeating his armies and hives. That alone will save the world for a while. Indeed, if I fail, his obsession may pass."

"'Twill never pass," Tess said with certainty. "He thinks he must right wrongs of the past. He is blind to his own lust for power."

Annuvil frowned. "Is that indeed how he understands it?"

"It is." Tess sighed and leaned forward, holding her chilled fingers out to the fire and feeling them sting as they warmed. "He is righteous in his own mind."

"Then perhaps he is righteous." Annuvil shook his head. "How am I to know? After all this time, I have still not sorted all the threads that came together to create our downfall. I am still not entirely certain which of my actions were mistaken and wrong. Yet I know for certain that many of them were."

Tess laid a hand on his shoulder. "You must cease this constant self-reproach. In the days ahead you must be strong and certain. You know Ardred's intentions."

"Aye," said Tom. "There is no good ahead if he triumphs. In that you have always been correct, Archer. Always. I have seen it. Ask yourself what good could he intend when he causes the deaths of thousands through cold and starvation."

Annuvil nodded. "True."

"Simply because he convinces himself he is the right and his goals are good does not mean it is so," Tom continued. "The means by which he achieves them are the truest indicator of the man he is. Even with all of Tess's powers beside you, you have never sought to harm anyone needlessly. You have never asked her to do a single thing for your benefit. To me that is the best measure by which to judge you and your brother. It answers any question anyone might have."

A round of "ayes" answered Tom's words.

Archer lowered his head a bit and stared into the flames. For a long while he did not speak. Where his thoughts traveled none could guess, for his face revealed nothing.

At last he sighed and reached for his tankard. "'Tis fated that this comes to pass. All any can do is his best." He looked around the group he had traveled with these months. "I have faith in all of you. I could ask for no better companions and comrades."

"There it is, then," said Ratha. He raised his mug to the others. "May we all live to meet again when this is over."

Later, when all slept, it was Tess's turn to walk out to the edge of the Sea of Glass and stare across its black, glittering expanse. The blizzard had given way to stillness, a stillness so cold she found it hard to draw in a breath. Overhead the stars shone again, their light illumination enough. All around the black glass the snow clung whitely, turning the hills and spires into ghostly shapes. On the glass alone it did not cling, and Tess wondered at that.

The Ilduin who had gathered not far from here to focus their powers on the destruction of Ardred, and consequently Dederand, had created a magick so great that after all this time it still clung.

Closing her eyes, she let herself feel the tattered remnants of the power her sisters had unleashed here. Anger. So much anger. They, too, had believed in their righteousness. They believed they would end the wars that tore the Firstborn apart, but more, they were angry that Theriel had been murdered. The Ilduin were inviolate, but Ardred had violated one of them.

It was that anger, she realized, that had caused the worst of this destruction.

A saying from her other life wafted through her mind, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." She nodded to herself in agreement. They must take care, she realized. She and all her sister Ilduin must take care not to act from anger. They must enter into this confrontation with the purest hearts they could imagine or their magicks would turn wild as they had here, and who could then anticipate the destruction?

Squatting, she laid a hand upon the glass and drew into herself as much as she could from the remnants of power and rage that lingered here. Then, closing her eyes, she sent the knowledge and awareness to all of her sisters, including Lozzi and Yazzi, with clear warning.

Feeling their acknowledgements, she reinforced the images, then allowed them return to their slumbers.

Continuing to stand there, buried deep within the folds of her woolen cloak and hood, she meditated on all she had learned during her brief captivity by the Ilduin Hesta. Meditated on the strands of memory the plain of glass still harbored, meditated on the past she had only recently reclaimed, meditated on her purpose in this world she had been brought to.

The worlds had been rent by the jealousy of a brother and the rage of eleven women like herself. The black glass before her was a scar on the warp of reality itself.

And it was up to her to heal that scar.