"We shall not need it for long," he remarked, and both women glanced at each other in concern. Neither liked the idea of climbing any further into this crevice. Where were the Sentinels leading them? If the way grew any steeper then they would not be able to take die donkeys any further.

"The wont is behind us, my sweet ladies" called Ogden. "We are almost there."

"I am not so sure that I wish to know where 'there' is," Azhure grumbled.

Her limbs were stiff and sore and she had pulled a muscle in her left leg.

The next moment she breathed in relief as the slope eased.

"Where are we?" Rivkah asked breathlessly as they stepped onto a smooth gravel path. Ogden's lamp showed very little apart from the nearest rocks in what appeared to be a narrow crevice. Even though they knew it was only midday, it appeared darkest night. "Where will this lead us?"

"Into a mystery, dear lady," Ogden said.

Veremund stepped back and placed a reassuring hand on each woman's shoulder. "It is quite safe, and will be clean and dry and light soon. Bear with Ogden. He does like a mystery."

Ogden led the party behind a jumble of rocks. Before them, beyond the comforting glow of the lamp, stretched total darkness. Then stunningly, Ogden doused his lamp and complete darkness enveloped the group.

"Watch, dear ones!" he cried. "Watch!" and the two women sensed him moving forward.

There was a soft click, and suddenly a soft yellow light glowed at ankle level.

Both Rivkah and Azhure gasped. Ogden was stepping forth onto a smooth, black metallic roadway. With every fourth or fifth step he took another light clicked softly on. Some at ankle level, some over his head. As Ogden skipped ahead in delight, a long straight tunnel was revealed, stretching forward until it was lost in the darkness. Yellow lines ran down the centre of the tunnel roadway.

Ogden's donkey patiendy followed her master.

"What is it?" Rivkah asked Veremund, her arms wrapped about herself protectively.

"Who built it?" Azhure demanded. "When? How do the lights work? What is this tunnel doing here? What is this black shiny stuff that coats the surface of die floor?"

"All Ogden and I know," Veremund replied, "is that this tunnel exists, and others like it in various parts of Tencendor — we use diem from time to time.

They are old, very old, and we do not know who built them. Come." He stepped after the fast disappearing Ogden, and, after only a moment's hesitation, the women followed.

Behind them, precisely ten minutes after they had passed, the lights clicked off one by one.

The tunnel ran deep into the earth. For the rest of the day they descended a gentle gradient before the roadway finally levelled out. There Ogden announced they would rest briefly before continuing.

"We have no comfortable mats and no Enchanter to create magical mattresses of air for us," explained Ogden to the tired women, who protested they needed longer to rest. "Within only a few hours you will become so uncomfortable on this hard surface that you will be only too pleased to move again."

"Besides," Veremund added. "I admit that I yearn for the night sky and the fresh air again. Safe and convenient this tunnel may be, but it is monotonous and sterile and it gives my soul no joy."

"Where does this tunnel go?" Azhure asked, slipping the Wolven off her shoulders and putting it carefully down. "How long will it take us to walk through?"

"It travels completely underneath the Fortress Ranges," Ogden said, rummaging around in one of his donkey's packs. He pulled out a platter of raisin cookies with a flourish. "How long to walk through? Well, if we manage to keep moving with only brief rests, we should emerge into daylight in two days' time."

"Well," Rivkah said, helping Veremund ease the packs from the donkeys'

backs, "I suppose I can put up with it if it gets us to Sigholt quicker."

Azhure sat down and accepted a cookie from Ogden. She could tolerate the stifling atmosphere of the tunnel if it kept her from having to travel close to Smyrton.

Veremund sat down cross-legged and looked hopefully at his brother.

"Ogden, did you happen to find any apples in your pack?"

The Sentinels were right. After only two or three hours both women were tossing and turning, their hips, elbows and shoulders sore and cold from the hard, metalled surface beneath them. They rose gratefully when Ogden called them. Even walking half asleep would be better than another minute spent prone on this floor.

Over the next two days and nights they walked five or six hours until feet started to shuffle and tempers snap, then they'd rest three, perhaps four, hours until no-one could stand the cold hard roadway any longer. Nothing about the tunnel changed. It was an eerie feeling, trapped in a small bubble of light in what seemed to be an eternity of darkness. All hungered for open spaces and fresh air so badly they could physically taste their need.

On the morning of the third day the roadway rose gently, and everyone's spirits lifted with it. Even the tired donkeys pricked their ears and brayed as they leaned into the rise.

They emerged, every muscle in their bodies sore and weary after an eight-hour climb into a dark and cold afternoon. They scrambled over rocks and down a steep and treacherous ravine before they stepped onto flat ground, all shivering in the biting wind that blew down from the north. At Talon Spike and in the Avarinheim they had been largely protected from Gorgrael's malicious weather, but here, at the edge of the Fortress Ranges and the WildDog Plains, the northerly wind screamed down on the little group as they huddled among a tumble of boulders.

Rivkah looked at the bleak landscape ahead. "Should we rest the night here, Ogden, before we attempt to move south? These boulders might give us the only degree of shelter we're going to get for a long time."

Ogden shook his head. "No, lovely lady. We will move south some hours before camping for the night. We need to move as soon as we can." He paused.

"I do not like the bite in this wind and I fear that it will sap our energies if we stay in one place too long. Best we keep moving. But, look, see what I have here."

Ogden pulled two cloaks from his donkey's packs and handed them to the women, who wasted no time wrapping themselves as close as they could.

Veremund had similarly unpacked two cloaks from his donkey's packs and the two Sentinels rugged up as well. Then, to the surprise of both Azhure and Rivkah, the Sentinels insisted that they each ride a donkey.

Comfortable and relatively warm atop the donkeys, neither woman complained any further.

The wind had died a little by the time they made camp for the night in the inadequate shelter afforded by a small, dry creek bed. The remains of a few dead skeleton bushes made a tiny, cheerless fire. Ogden produced some hot soup and crusty bread from one of the packs and, after they had eaten, Veremund persuaded the donkeys to lie down close to the fire. Between the donkeys and the fire, the four spent a passable night, the dry creek bed feeling like the finest feather bed to muscles still aching from the tunnel floor.

Thus they travelled for three days, slowly wending their way southwards against whatever protection the sharp clifls of the Fortress Ranges could give them. To the women, spring seemed to have hardly touched this land yet, but to the Sentinels who had survived the siege of Gorkenfort and who knew to what extremes Gorgrael could drive winter, the lack of snow gave them some hope that spring had broken through more strongly in the lands south of the Nordra.

Nevertheless, the frigid wind at their backs reminded them all that Gorgrael sat to the north, rallying his forces, waiting to build his army of Ghostmen to invasion force again.

Wrapped in lonely silence atop her donkey, Rivkah wondered what her son could do to counter Gorgrael's powerful enchantments. What could he do against a half-brother who could manipulate the very weather itself?

The AlauntOn the third day after the group left the Fortress Ranges tunnel, fluid white shapes started to nose about the rocks where the women and the Sentinels had briefly sheltered.

Suddenly one halted, and buried his nose in the remains of a scuff mark. An instant later his head lifted into the sky and an eerie howl washed over the rest of his pack. Soon all were baying, low and clear, as the pack shuffled around the remaining traces of scent. Then they moved as one past the boulders and took the faint trail south. Occasionally one or two of them lifted their snouts long enough to send another low bay winding plaintively across the empty plain before them.

The small, yellow native wild dogs after whom the plains were named, and who lived out their lives hunting mice and small birds, huddled deep into their burrows, terrified beyond reason.

They knew the Alaunt ran.

It was late in the afternoon of the fourth day when the Sentinels heard the sound of the pack baying to the north. Neither woman saw the look of deep alarm that passed between Ogden and Veremund as they urged the donkeys on a little bit faster.

Both Sentinels knew they had no hope of outrunning the Alaunt. Yet if they could delay the inevitable confrontation an hour or more they might find a more defensible position.

Azhure was the first to become aware of the tension between the two Sentinels. "What is it?" she asked, raising her voice against the wind. "Why are you worried?"

Ogden glanced atVeremund, and the two came to a swift decision. Azhure and Rivkah would hear the hounds soon enough, anyway. They were closing rapidly.

"We are being followed," Veremund said, his voice strained.

"Followed? Who by?" Azhure reached automatically for the Wolven.

"Skraelings?"

Veremund shook his head. "No. Creatures far older, fardeadlier."

" What?" Azhure hissed. Her blood ran hot with desire for action and her hand gripped an arrow. The Wolven quivered in her hand. " What!"

"Alaunt hounds," Ogden said shortly, casting his eyes about the terrain before them.

Azhure swung her leg over the donkey's wither and slid to the ground.

"What are Alaunt hounds?"

It was Rivkah who answered, her eyes wide with fear. "I heard tales of them when I was small. My nurse said the Alaunt were a pack of enchanted hounds who hunted down humans. She said they neither breathed nor ate, but could run for weeks only on the scent of blood. She said," Rivkah's voice quavered, "that once they caught the scent of their prey they would never let go."

"The Alaunt have not run for many thousands of years, not since WolfStar died," Ogden said tightly, hurrying the group along, "and I do not know why they run now."

"Can they die, Veremund? Can they be killed?" Azhure asked.

Veremund shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Well," Azhure said, "either they will die or we will. Ogden, is that a stand of rocks ahead?"

By the time they reached the pitifully inadequate tumble of boulders near the foot of a sheer cliff face they could a ' hear the low, clear cries of the hounds.

As the other scrambled for shelter, Azhure slapped the donkeys' rumps hoping that they would gallop off and perhaps draw the Alaunt away.

Suddenly the cries of the hounds changed, doubling their efforts so that their howls rilled the night.

"We are lost!" Veremund cried. "Hear, they clamour!"

Azhure, an arrow already notched in the Wolven, turned and slapped the Sentinel across the face. "Be quiet, Veremund," she hissed, her eyes hard and angry. "Get as far behind the rocks as you can."

Rivkah huddled with the two Sentinels behind the rocks. She desperately wished that she had not left StarDrifter, that she was huddled in his arms rather than cold and terrified behind these rocks where she would surely die.

StarDrifter's casual infidelities seemed laughably inconsequential in the face of imminent death. How would it feel to die with your throat hanging open?

Azhure knelt against the rocks, the Wolven drawn and ready to cast the first arrow. She peered as closely as she could into the thickening dusk; was that movement ahead of her? To her left? Her right?

"Curses!" she breathed as pale shapes flickered at the edge of her vision.

"They have surrounded us!"

Suddenly one of the shapes ceased its circling and paced stiff-legged towards the rocks. It was the largest dog Azhure had ever seen, almost as big as one of Ogden and Veremund's donkeys. Its lips were drawn back into a snarl, great growls rumbling from its throat. As Azhure s fingers tightened about the Wolven, the hound's eyes, dark gold flecked with silver, fixed into hers, almost daring her to shoot.

Azhure took a deep breath, held it for a heartbeat, then loosed the arrow, notching another one almost as soon as the first had left the bow.

In the instant before the arrow struck, the Alaunt twisted and leaped, snatching the arrow out of the air in his teeth. Instantly the clamour of the other hounds stopped.

Azhure's hands suddenly slicked with sweat and the Wolven slipped fractionally in her grasp.

The Alaunt stalked closer, the arrow held between its jaws. Its eyes were still fixed on Azhure, and it growled threateningly.

Azhure's heart thudded painfully in her chest as the Alaunt suddenly reared its forepaws on the rock and stood for a moment. Then, amazingly, it dropped the arrow at Azhure s feet and began to grin happily.

"By the Stars," Rivkah croaked, "it's returning your arrow."

The hound gave a small yip of greeting, then heaved itself entirely over the rock and into the small space occupied by the two women and the Sentinels. It sank down on its stomach in the dirt, its head on its forepaws, its eyes fixed on Azhure.

Ogden and Veremund stared at the hound, stared at Azhure, then turned to stare at each other.

Azhure warily reached out a hand and touched the Alaunt on its massive forehead. It quivered and closed its eyes. She pulled her hand back, clenching her fingers to stop their sudden trembling.

"Arise," she said very quietly.

The hound rose to his feet, towering over Azhure as she squatted on the ground. She reached out again and rubbed her hand along the hound's shoulder.

"Good dog," she said.

Later they all sat, quiet and introspective, about a fire. Azhure, Rivkah, Ogden, Veremund and three of the fifteen Alaunt crowded into the space between the rocks. The rest of the hounds lay curled into tight wedges in a pack outside the rocks. The two donkeys had wandered back to the rocks an hour or so previously, their eyes wide and uncertain, but the hounds had taken no notice of them, and finally the donkeys had let Ogden and Veremund soothe them and divest them of their packs.

Azhure studied the three Alaunt close by her. Their bodies were heavy but sleek and shaped for both speed and endurance. Their heads were square, massive, but finely shaped, their muzzles long and strong. Their coats were short and a uniform pale cream, darkening to gold about their paws and muzzles. The lead hound lay with his head in Azhure's lap.

Azhure raised her eyes to the two Sentinels. "These are WolfStar's hounds?"

she asked.

Ogden paused, then he nodded briefly. "Yes. He bred them for their intelligence as well as their speed and strength, for their loyalty as for their reckless savagery. Their leader's name is Sicarius - the cunning assassin." He paused. "The two were parted only by death."

"WolfStar," Azhure said. "Why does his name keep returning to haunt me?

First his bow, and now his hounds. What else of his will find its way into my possession?"

Ogden and Veremund watched her, wondering exactly the same thing. The bow might have been coincidence, but the hounds as well? No. That was design and plan, not anonymous chance.

"Who was WolfStar?" Azhure finally asked. Veremund hesitated, then decided the bare facts would not hurt. "WolfStar SunSoar was the most powerful Enchanter the Icarii have ever known. Perhaps potentially far more powerful than Axis."

"The Icarii do not like to speak of him," Rivkah said from one side. She knew WolfStar's story, but to speak of WolfStar's misdeeds would need the permission of the Icarii.

"I will say only that WolfStar died young," Ogden said. "He was not yet one hundred."

"How?" Azhure asked, noting Ogden's hesitation over the word "died". "Why did he die so young?"

"He was assassinated, Azhure. By another member of the SunSoar family."

"Assassinated?" It was, Azhure thought, a delicate word for what must have been a foul deed.

"He was murdered by his brother," Veremund said blundy, and the three Alaunt about the fire stirred uncomfortably, their dreams disturbed with dark memories. "Murdered in Assembly, before all the Icarii, a knife plunged into his heart and none, none, none of the Icarii moving to assist him. He died, alone and unloved, in a pool of blood in the centre of the speaker's circle of the ancient Assembly Chamber on the Island of Mist and Memory — with the entire Icarii nation looking on impassively."

Azhure's eyes filled with tears. WolfStar had been alone and unloved? She knew how that felt.

OArrival at SigholtThe next morning the Alaunt were

still there, Sicarius sleeping curled against Azhure's back. The other fourteen hounds sat in a precise circle about the rocks, facing outwards, their eyes staring into the distance.

"They are keeping guard," Veremund said as Azhure rose and saw them.

"Even the Skraelings would keep away from such as these. You have won yourself some powerful and loyal companions, Azhure."

Azhure patted Sicarius on the head and fingered the Wolven. "Could they have simply come to the bow, Veremund? If the bow once belonged to WolfStar, was made by him, then perhaps they simply come to the person who carries the bow?"

Veremund raised his eyebrows at Ogden. The woman had a point. After all, the Alaunt were hunting hounds and their master had wielded the Wolven. And who knew what magic the bow itself contained?

"We will easily find out, Azhure," said Ogden. "Give the bow to Rivkah - but make sure Sicarius knows you hand it over willingly!"

"Rivkah, will you mind the Wolven for me?" Azhure asked formally, and handed Rivkah the bow.

Sicarius shifted his hindquarters on the ground a little, bored.

"Now, Azhure," Ogden said, "walk beyond the boulders, as if you are leaving us."

Azhure walked briskly away from the rocks. As one, the Alaunt rose from their positions and padded silently after her.

Ogden and Veremund looked at each other. No doubt. They had come to Azhure, not the Wolven.

They travelled south for a further week, then turned southwest, looking for the HoldHard Pass. The Urqhart Hills were still a purple smudge on the western horizon.

The travelling was relatively easy, although it remained bitterly cold and all four shivered within their thick cloaks. The women continued to ride the donkeys, which remained placidly uncomplaining about the extra weight. Neither woman had sturdy enough boots to cope with the rough pebbly surface of the WildDog Plains.

Ogden and Veremund's magical hampers continued to provide food. Each evening as they made camp, the hounds waited patiently in line until Ogden found time to riffle through his packs and toss them joints of meat. But such tame food bored the Alaunt. Sometimes during the day, and often at night, groups of three or four of them would lope off into the distance, returning later with blood-stained muzzles.

In return for the food and the company, the hounds lent their warmth to the group, and the women and Sentinels became used to curling up for the night with a hound at their back. One morning Azhure awakened early enough to see that a group of five or six had even curled around the donkeys. The nights were frosty on the exposed plain.

Two days after they had turned south-west across the WildDog Plains the small group saw a band of horsemen approaching. There were perhaps ten or twelve of them, and they approached cautiously, obviously wary of the Alaunt.

Azhure reached for the Wolven as soon as she saw the horsemen in the distance, and notched an arrow.

"Can you see who they are?" she asked the Sentinels. "Are they Belial's men, or Borneheld's?"

Ogden and Veremund peered towards the horsemen, who had now spaced themselves out into a wide line, directly in front of the setting sun. The Alaunt whined, tensing, ready for a fight.

But as the men rode closer, the group of hounds suddenly relaxed and Sicarius gave a short, gruff bark of greeting. He knew these men.

The horsemen were much closer now, perhaps no more than fifty paces away, but their forms and faces were still in shadow.

"Well, the Alaunt like them," Veremund observed, his hand to his eyes, trying to shade them from the light. "But I'm still not sure that -"

He was cut off by a shout from the leading horseman who had kicked his rangy roan into a canter. "Ogden, Veremund? Old men? Is that you?"

"Why," Ogden beamed happily, "it's Arne!" A knot of nervousness formed in Azhure s belly. Arne was one of the senior commanders from Axis' Axe-Wielders

- a man who had been in Smyrton when she cracked Belial over the head in order to help Raum and Shra escape. Would he remember her? And, if so, what would he think? Hurriedly she unnotched the arrow, sliding it into her quiver and slinging the Wolven over her shoulder.

Arne pulled his gelding to a halt beside Veremund and slid down from the saddle, glancing apprehensively towards the hounds. "Ogden, Veremund, it is good to see you again." He shook their hands. "Icarii farflight scouts sent word that you would be travelling across the WildDog Plains." He looked back at the hounds. "Where did you find these hounds, Ogden?"

"Ah, well," Ogden began, "they found us, really, but that is a long story. Um, Arne, you might not remember Azhure. She conies from —"

"I remember Azhure well enough," Arne broke in, his face hardening. "I also remember how many weeks it took before Belial's headaches faded."

Azhure's face flamed and the thought that she still had to confront Belial only made her feel worse. What had she been thinking of to club him so badly?

Arne stared at her, then turned to the other woman.

"The Princess Rivkah," Veremund mumbled at his side.

Arne's demeanour changed instantly. His face became respectful, and he bowed deeply, a gesture courtly even in this incongruous setting. "Princess, I am your servant to order as you will."

Rivkah smiled and held out her hand. Arne took it and pressed his lips briefly to its back. Ogden and Veremund stared at the man. The dour and uncommunicative Arne was showing a side they had not suspected previously.

"And my Lord Axis?" Arne asked, only reluctantly relinquishing Rivkah's hand. "He is well?"

Rivkah nodded. She liked this man. He had a good heart and honest intentions. ;'He is well, Arne, and has embraced his heritage."

Relief crossed Ames face. "The farflight scouts had told us so, but to hear it from the woman who gave him birth is more than I had hoped for."

He gave Azhure one more hard stare, noting the handsome bow across her back, then whistled his men closer.

"Our camp is nearby," he said. "And we have spare horses there. Tomorrow morning we will ride for Sigholt."

As they turned the last bend in the HoldHard Pass and Sigholt came into view, Ogden andVeremund reined in their donkeys, astonished.

"Changed, hasn't it?" Arne remarked.

Rivkah kneed her horse beside the Sentinels' donkeys. Once she had hated Sigholt as the symbol of her loathed marriage to Searlas, Duke of Ichtar and father of her eldest son, Borneheld. Even though StarDrifter had come to her there, even though Axis had been conceived on its roof, Rivkah had never wanted to come back.

But the Sigholt that stood less than half a league down the pass was a very different Sigholt to the one she had known.

"The farflight scouts said that Sigholt had come alive," Veremund said, his voice full of awe, "but I had not realised how much the Keep had regained its vigour."

Ogden sat silently, tears of joy streaming down his face.

The most obvious difference was the Lake. It stretched away into the distance, ruby tints reflecting in the occasional shaft of sunlight that broke through the clouds. Steam gently rose from its surface, wafting towards them as it was caught by the northerly wind. In the month or more since the spring had been unblocked, the Urqhart Hills immediately surrounding the Lake had come alive. Red and purple gorse flowered across the mid- to high slopes, while in the lower slopes close to the heat and life of the water, ferns and rock-flowers were starting to spread. The stone Keep itself, once a uniform and depressing leaden hue, had lightened so that it was now a pale silvery and welcoming grey.

Colourful pennants fluttered from its parapets. In the following months, as the greenery and the flowers spread across the nearby hills, Sigholt would become a paradise. Even now it was close to being the most beautiful place Rivkah had ever seen.

"The air is warm," Azhure remarked. Ever since Arne had found them Azhure had been uncharacteristically quiet. Rivkah smiled reassuringly at her, knowing she was nervous about meeting Belial again.

Arne glanced at Azhure. Two days ago he had challenged her to demonstrate her skill with the bow she carried - Arne had thought that perhaps it was simply a gaudy toy. But she had won his grudging respect with her skill.

Even Belial, one of the best archers Arne had ever known, would find it hard to match her. Then, of course, there were the hounds. The Alaunt were a well-trained, well-disciplined pack, and answered instantly whenever Azhure spoke to them. Arne had worked with hunting dogs before, but he had never seen such as these. They followed close behind Azhure day after day, the leading dog, Sicarius, loping by her side.

"The water is hot," Arne finally said, turning to face Azhure, "and it warms the air. Gorgrael cannot touch us here with his icemen. Sigholt is a haven."

As they rode closer, the sparkling moat surrounding Sigholt became obvious.

"It looks so different," Rivkah said to Azhure as they rode up to the bridge.

"This Sigholt lives and laughs."

"Stop," Arne ordered as they neared the bridge. "Ogden, Veremund, you go across first, then Princess Rivkah and Azhure."

Ogden and Veremund, smiling broadly, dismounted from their donkeys so they could step across the bridge personally.

"Welcome, Ogden. Welcome, Veremund," the bridge said, joy obvious in her melodious voice. "It is long since I felt your steps across my back."

Rivkah s and Azhure's eyes opened wide in surprise.

"The bridge lives, Princess/' said Arne, "and she guards against all who are not true."

Ogden and Veremund prattled happily to the bridge as they crossed, then embraced Jack who waited in Sigholt's open gate for them. They greeted him cheerfully, but their faces fell as they heard Zeherah had not been refound.

"Princess." Arne motioned with his head towards the bridge. "You next."

Rivkah heeled her horse s flanks. Just before the horse stepped onto the bridge, the bridge spoke. "Are you true?"

"Yes, I am true," Rivkah said in a clear voice.

"Then cross, Princess Rivkah, and I will see if you speak the truth."

Rivkah urged her horse forward. What did the bridge mean?

When she was halfway across the bridge spoke again. "You were once Duchess of Ichtar, Princess Rivkah." The beautiful voice was now toneless.

Rivkah was suddenly all too aware of the waters rushing underneath the bridge. Huddled in the shadows of the gate of Sigholt she could see a group of men waiting for her. Ogden and Veremund, as the man beside them, had fearful expressions on their faces. "Yes," she whispered. "I was."

Her horse abruptly stopped and Rivkah could not make it move forward.

Perspiration began to bead her forehead.

"You were not true to your husband, Rivkah. You were not true to the Duke of Ichtar, Searlas. You betrayed him with another."

Rivkah swallowed. "No," she finally forced out. "No, I was not true to Searlas." Somehow she could not lie to this bridge. "I betrayed him atop this very Keep."

There was silence as the bridge contemplated this. Then, shockingly, it laughed, a peal of sheer merriment. "Then you have my heart, Princess Rivkah, for I do not like the Dukes of Ichtar! You and I will be friends!"

Rivkah grinned weakly, and her horse moved forward once more. "Thank you, bridge," she said. "Thank you."

Watching from the far side Azhure breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment she had thought the bridge would reject Rivkah. She glanced at Arne, who nodded at her, then she kneed her horse forward.

"Are you true?" the bridge asked as she approached.

"Yes, I am true," Azhure answered confidently.

"Then cross, Azhure, and I will see if you speak the truth."

The bridge accepted Azhure almost as soon as her horse had stepped onto the red-veined silvery-grey masonry.

"You spoke the truth, Azhure. Welcome to my heart."

"Thank you, bridge," Azhure said, looking to where Rivkah had halted her horse just the other side, waiting for her so that they could enter Sigholt together.

But the bridge was not yet finished. "I have not felt your father's step for many a long year, Azhure. Where is he?"

Azhure stared, open-mouthed. Hagen had crossed this bridge?

"Er, he is dead," she finally managed to say.

"Ah," the bridge said sorrowfully. "I am sad. I loved your father, although many did not. We passed many a night deep in conversation."

Rivkah frowned at Azhure as she rode up to her. "What was that about?"

"I don't know, Rivkah. Perhaps the bridge confused me with someone eke.

Hagen never crossed this bridge."

As they kicked their horses forward, two men stepped out from the shadows of the fortified gateway. Azhure tensed. One was Belial, although the other man she did not know.

"Belial," she whispered.

But Belial spoke to Rivkah first. "Welcome to Sigholt, Princess. I am Belial, once lieutenant to your son in the Axe-Wielders, now commander of his base here in Sigholt." He smiled, his pleasant face relaxing under sandy hair, his hazel eyes crinkling at Rivkah. "Welcome home, Rivkah."

Rivkah greeted him warmly. Axis had told her so much about this man. "I can think of no better man to welcome me back to Sigholt than the man whose friendship has meant so much to my son. I am pleased and deeply honoured to meet you, Belial."

Belial inclined his head, then turned to Azhure.

"Azhure." He held out his hands. "Come down from your horse."

Azhure hesitated, then leaned down, placing her hands on Belial's shoulders, feeling his hands grasp her about the waist as she swung down from her horse.

Rather than letting her go once her feet were on the ground, Belial's hands tightened. "I should throw you in the moat for what you did to me," he said, his face expressionless. "I trusted you, yet you did not repay my trust well."

Azhure s entire body tensed, and her eyes glinted with tears of shame and regret. She could not say anything to this man she had treated so poorly.

Belial's eyes flickered over her face. He had thought her beautiful in Smyrton, but since then she seemed to have not only grown more mature, but to have gained an aura of wildness that made her even more fascinating. And now here she was standing before him in Sigholt. Could life get any better? He dropped his hands from her waist reluctantly.

"As much as you might deserve a ducking, Azhure, I will merely welcome you to Sigholt instead. We will discuss the issue of recompense later." Azhure managed a small smile.

"Magariz?" Belial said, beckoning to his friend. "May I introduce you to the Princess Rivkah and to Azhure?"

The man Azhure had noticed earlier now stepped forward. In late middle-age, his black hair thickly lined with silver, his limp and the raised scar running down his left cheek only accentuated his handsomeness and appeal.

As Belial had helped Azhure from her horse, so now Magariz held out his hands for Rivkah.

"Welcome, Princess," Magariz said quietly. "It has been a long time. We are both considerably greyer than when we last met, but at least we meet in happier circumstances."

Rivkah held out her hand for Magariz to kiss. "But I am the greyer, I see, my Lord Magariz."

"But just as beautiful," he grinned, raising his eyes from her hand.

"You know each other?" Azhure asked. "How?"

Rivkah laughed at the puzzlement on both Belial's and Azhure's faces. "You forget that I was a child of the Carton court, Azhure. When I was growing up Magariz was a youthful page, waiting at high table."

She turned back to Magariz, who still had not let her hand go. "And now you are a commander, Magariz. It is more than the grey in our heads which tells me how many years have passed."

Magariz finally let Rivkah's hand go, stepping back a pace. "I grew heartily sick of waiting at tables, Princess. Sometime after your marriage to Searlas I persuaded my father to let me join the palace guard. After many years, Priam assigned me to Borneheld's service when he became Duke and eventually Borneheld gave me the command at Gorkenfort. There I mouldered for over ten years before the events of the past eight months propelled me into a greater adventure than I had ever dreamed." He shrugged a little. "Thirty years in so few sentences, Rivkah. But that is my life since last we spoke."

"And from Gorkenfort you joined Axis' cause," Rivkah said. "You always did make reckless choices, didn't you?"

Magariz's mouth twitched. "Some of my choices have been a little impetuous, Princess, but there is not one that I have regretted."

Rivkah smiled and she turned away slightly, loosening her cloak in the warm air of Sigholt. "I know so little of Borneheld, Magariz. You must spend some time with me, tell me of him."

Grave now, Magariz bowed slightly from the waist. "Anything, my Princess."

"And Faraday, the current Duchess of Ichtar," Rivkah went on. "I know so little of her. You must speak to me of her as well."

Azhure had a fixed and overly bright smile on her face. Well, thought Rivkah, she must accept that Axis will ride across Achar into Faraday's arms. She must accept that she has no future with Axis.

Then Rivkah gasped in utter delight as Reinald stepped forth. She hugged him fiercely. When she'd lived here as Duchess of Ichtar, Reinald had been one of her only friends.

Belial introduced Magariz to Azhure, then all were interrupted by the sound of barking, and they turned to watch the Alaunt hounds pacing solemnly across the bridge. The bridge barked at them and Sicarius barked gruffly back.

Belial turned to Azhure. "Where did these hounds come from?"

"They, ah, seem to belong to me, Belial. I hope you will not mind their presence. They are well trained and will cause no trouble. I will tell you their story once I have changed into some clean clothes."

Belial belatedly realised that he had kept the two women standing in the gateway for far too long, but, just as he was about to usher them into Sigholt, Jack stepped up. Jack had recognised the hounds instantly, and a look of understanding had passed between himself and Sicarius.

"You are Azhure?" Jack asked, and Belial hastened to introduce them.

Azhure shook the hand that Jack offered, and the Sentinel smiled at her genially, thinking he understood her. Unlike the other Sentinels, all of whom had hardly ever conversed with the Prophet who had recruited them, Jack knew the Prophet well and had been entrusted with many secrets.

But there were yet deeper secrets to.the Prophecy, and Azhure was one of them.

Long Live the King!

Faraday's hopes were dying as fast as the man before her. She stood behind Judith as the Queen leaned over the prone form of her husband, trying to lend the woman the strength of her presence and friendship. Beside her stood Embeth, now Judith's senior lady-in-waiting. Faraday exchanged a glance with Embeth. Neither could do anything to ease Judith's grief.

Priam's bedchamber was quiet and lit only by a few tapers. Incense smouldered out of sight on a high shelf. On the other side of the bed Jayme, assisted as always by Moryson, stood quietly. The Brother-Leader was wearing his full ceremonial vestments of office to mark this sombre occasion. Behind Jayme stood Borneheld, and Faraday's eyes met his briefly before she looked away, disgusted at what she could see in their depths. To the rear of the ornate gold and pink chamber stood several servants and courtiers, uselessly weeping, and one or two helpless physicians.

Faraday looked back at the King. Three weeks ago to the day Priam, ordinarily so hale and hearty, had begun to show evidence of madness. For three days he strode down the corridors of the palace, seeing demons and sorcerers in every shadow. Judith and sundry servants had followed him, pleading with Priam to let the physicians see him, pleading with him to rest, sleep. Perhaps it was simply stress, overwork.

But Priam had continued to pace the corridors, scarcely ever sleeping, spittle caking his stubbly chin.

His illness was crazy, thought Faraday despairingly. She had spent most of the past few weeks with Judith, supporting her as much as she could. Forcing her to sleep when she would wander after Priam. Trying to reassure her. Trying.

The physicians pronounced that the King was suffering from a severe form of brain heat which caused madness as the King's noddle sizzled. "It has been building awhile," they suggested, "and has only now boiled to the surface." They applied icepack after icepack to the King's brow, and leeches to his limbs and groin to drain away excess hot blood. They even considered wrapping the King in brandy-soaked bandages and leaving him in a dark room - but they had discarded that idea. The last nobleman to be treated with that particular remedy had died after a careless servant dropped his candle onto the spirit-soaked bandages. Nothing they'd suggested had worked, and the physicians were now forced to admit that they could do little.

Everyone shook their heads and sorrowed. Carlon and the surrounding districts mourned Priam's decline. And amidst all this sorrow and public shaking of heads came the despicable, rumours. If Priam had considered an alliance with the Forbidden, then it was because his mind was already addled. If Priam so thoughtlessly berated Borneheld, it was because he no longer knew right from wrong, friend from foe.

Jayme had been quick to seize these rumours and make them his own —

Faraday wondered if they had been his all along.

"He has been struck by a miasma of the Forbidden," Jayme had ventured, and many had listened. "Their evil presence has stretched right into the heart of Carlon to implant the noxious notion of an alliance with them into Priam's mind."

He shook his head sorrowfully. "Now all can see how the Forbidden work, now all can see the wickedness of their actions. Has not the Seneschal been teaching this for many hundreds of years? Is this not why we drove the Forbidden from our fair land in the first instance?"

And with the rumours and the King's increasing madness, Faraday's hopes died. Borneheld would take the throne and throw all Achar's resources against Axis. Now the brothers would tear Achar apart in their hatred for each other, tear it apart until finally they stood sword to sword in the Chamber of the Moons. As th< vision had foretold.

Faraday bowed her head, trying to rub away her tears.

Borneheld had stayed with Priam constantly, and all remarked on the devotion that he showed his uncle. Day after day Borneheld had followed Priam about the corridors, offering him comfort, and holding his chalice for him so that Priam could wet his throat whenever he became thirsty. And when Priam had finally collapsed into his bed, Borneheld had helped care for him. Holding his head as Priam drank from the chalice, wiping his lips as he lowered his uncle's head to the pillow.

Faraday did not believe the charade of devotion for an instant. In those hours when he was not at Priam's side, Borneheld whispered with Jayme or one of his advisers. Gilbert hung about their apartments like an evil shadow, and Moryson glided along the corridors, the hood of his robe pulled close about his face.

Solicitous during the day, at night Borneheld slept badly, tossing at Faraday's side, his hands gripping the sheets. He muttered in his dreams, but Faraday could not catch his words, and the one night she had awoken him to save him from his nightmares and offer him a drink of water, he had screamed and struck the goblet from her hands.

After that Borneheld slept in another room, saying Faraday no longer pleased him and her presence disturbed his sleep. Grateful for her empty bed, Faraday nevertheless wondered.

Judith leaned back, and Faraday gave her a fresh cloth.

"I thank you," Judith murmured, then leant back to her husband's-dying.

Four days ago, when Faraday had sent Judith to snatch some sleep, she had sat by Priam's bedside and laid her hands on the man. She had reached for the power of the Mother so she could heal Priam as she had healed Axis.

But Faraday had reeled back from the King's prone form almost instantly. What she had felt underneath her hands had been no natural illness. Dark enchantments had writhed beneath the King's skin. For long minutes Faraday had sat shaking, waving away a servant's murmured concerns. Enchantments? But how? By whom?

She had no dearth of suspects for the murder of Priam. Borneheld, obviously, but the whole Brotherhood of the Seneschal would doubtless fight for the privilege of slipping a knife into Priam's back, and Faraday also wondered if some of the nobles thought they might have too much to lose if the King concluded an alliance with the Icarii and Avar.

And yet who among all those could wield dark enchantments?

Faraday had felt the power, but she could not understand it. It was like and yet totally unlike what she had felt from Axis.

Priam was in the final grips of a murder, and a murder effected by enchantment.

Embeth put a hand on Faraday's arm, bringing the woman back into the present. Faraday nodded her thanks, and realised that Jayme had reached across the bed and touched Judith's hand.

"I am sorry, my Queen, but I must commence the Service soon.

Priam, well, he has only a small amount of time left."

Judith took a great gulping breath, her fragile shoulders heaving, then nodded. "Begin, Brother-Leader."

Jayme began intoning the Service of Passage, the age-old service meant to ease the soul of the dying into the next world. The words were beautiful and comforting, exhorting not only the dying to meet his maker with joy and thankfulness, but exhorting all those who grieved to remember that on the other side of death Artor waited to receive Priam into His eternal care. It was the duty of the dying to make a good death, to remember his faults and his sins so that Artor would accept him into His care, and it was the duty of those witnessing the death to make sure that the dying made their death the best one possible.

Faraday watched Jayme carefully, trying to discern the slightest note of satisfaction in his voice, the faintest gleam of triumph in his eyes. But if Jayme felt any of these emotions, he hid them well.

"Priam," he asked very softly, resting his three middle fingers on the King's waxen forehead, "listen to me. You must bind yourself to Artor's care, but you must remember that He will only receive you into His care once you have confessed your faults, flaws and sins. Priam, confess your sins now, that Artor may receive you with love."

Priam's eyelids opened. His cracked lips moved soundlessly, and Jayme motioned to Borneheld for the chalice.

"Drink, my King," Jayme whispered, "drink so that you may confess your sins."

Faraday stared at the chalice for a moment, disturbed. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her stomach. The more she stared at the chalice, the more she realised that there was something evil, shadowed, about it. Dark letters hovered about its rim, and Faraday felt her marrow chill. It was the source of the dark enchantment that killed Priam!

Nonetheless, Priam seemed to have been revived by the sip of water. He started to mumble, and Judith's eyes filled with tears — he was remembering the early years of their marriage, when all had seemed so bright, so full of life, when they were still convinced that healthy children lay only a year or two into the future. Unusually for a court-arranged union, Judith and Priam had enjoyed a marriage filled with love, even when disappointment at their childlessness sometimes threatened to overwhelm them.

"Yes, yes," Jayme encouraged Priam, his eyes gleaming strangely, "confess all, confess all that Artor may receive you." Faraday stared at Jayme. He and Borneheld had handled the chalice. How was it they stayed healthy and Priam sickened? She averted her eyes, but her gaze was instantly caught by Moryson.

What was the man doing? He was standing behind Jayme and Borneheld, the hood of his robe pulled close, but Faraday could see his lips moving silently and his eyes riveted on the chalice.

As Faraday stared Moryson suddenly lifted his eyes to hers...and grinned.

Faraday shuddered. The man's eyes were as ice, and they bore relentlessly into her own.

"Faraday?" Embeth murmured at her side, and Faraday finally tore her eyes away from Moryson.

When next she looked Moryson had his eyes back on the King, his face a mask of sorrow.

A spasm crossed Priam's face, and his entire body convulsed. Judith gave a soft cry of distress and grasped Priam's hand as tightly as she could. A trickle of bloodied froth issued from Priam's gaping mouth, and Embeth leaned over and wiped it away. The King's eyes now stared sightlessly at the canopy of his bed and his breath came in great uneven gasps.

Judith's mouth trembled, but she whispered to her husband words of love and farewell.

Then Priam rallied, and reached out a quavering hand. He pulled Judith's head close to his mouth. He whispered into her ear. Faraday saw Judith's entire body stiffen in reaction.

Finally Judith sat back, her face impassive. Priam's head sank down onto the pillow, his fingers trailed down Judith's face one last time, and then he died.

There was silence. After Priam's incoherent madness of the past weeks, his end had been surprisingly peaceful.

Finally it was Moryson who spoke. "The King is dead," he said, and turned to Borneheld. "Long live the King."

A strange expression crossed Borneheld's face, then Jayme pulled the amethyst ring of office from Priam's finger and slipped it onto Borneheld's thick digit. "Long live the King," Jayme intoned. "King Borneheld."

Faraday, watching, experienced a feeling of unreality.

Borneheld's eyes, burning with naked triumph, met hers above the bed. "My Queen," he said.

Faraday slipped quietly into Judith's chambers. She had spent the past three hours helping Judith and Embeth lay Priam's body out. The passing of a King required formal ceremonies, prayers, rituals, and the washing and preparing of Priam's body to lie in state. As Priam's widow, Judith had overseen all of this, her fragile face calm, emotionless. Her demeanour, as always, gracious and regal.

But Faraday had seen that Judith was close to collapse, and now wanted to make sure she was resting as comfortably as her grief would allow.

Judith sat on a sofa by the fire, Embeth's arm about her shoulder. Both women had glasses of brandy in their hands.

Embeth smiled wryly as Faraday sank down beside Judith. "There can be no better time to get slightly drunk," she said, "than in the hours just after your husband has died."

Faraday knew she must be remembering her own husband Ganelon's death.

Judith sniffed her tears back and put her glass down. Her porcelain skin was smudged and bruised under her eyes, evidence that she had not slept for many nights, and her golden hair was streaked and disordered. Poor Judith, Faraday thought, stroking the woman's hair back into some semblance of order. What will you do with your life now Priam is dead?

"Thank you, Faraday," Judith managed, then cleared her throat and said, her voice stronger, "Priam and I both thank you for your kindness and support over the past three weeks."

Faraday smiled, but did not say anything. She hoped that she could be as gracious if ever faced with a comparable loss. They sat in silence for some time, then Judith stirred and took Faraday's hand.

"My dear, I hope you will forgive me for what I now say...but say it I must and, having seen you with Borneheld over the past weeks, I think I can trust you to hear it." Faraday met Embeth's eyes over Judith's head. Judith abruptly picked up her glass and swallowed the last of her brandy. "Priam told me to name Axis his heir," she said. "He did not want Borneheld to succeed him."

. Faraday's breathing stilled. What good would that do Axis now?

"Artor save us!" Embeth whispered. "You cannot stand up in Borneheld's court and say that Priam named Axis his heir!" Judith smiled bitterly and straightened her back. "I know, Embeth. I have no death wish. I believe Priam's death was planned the instant he announced in audience that he wanted to seek an alliance with Axis."

Faraday stared at Judith, but decided against saying anything about the chalice. She had no idea who had ensorcelled the chalice, and the knowledge that it was ensorcelled would only distress Judith. She took Judith's hand. "Why did Priam change his mind?"

"Over past months," Judith said, "Priam realised how mistaken he'd been never to accept Axis for the man he was -a brilliant war leader and a better prince than Borneheld ever would be." She hesitated, glancing at Embeth. "I have told you this because Embeth has told me something of your feelings for Axis and that she encouraged you tp marry Borneheld when you were racked with doubts."

"And for that I can never apologise enough," said Embeth. Faraday bowed her head and thought for a moment. When she raised her eyes again they were brilliant with power.

Judith and Embeth both gasped.

"Let me tell you something about myself and about Axis," she said, her voice as powerful as her eyes.

She talked for over an hour, Embeth shakily pouring the three of them more brandy when she was halfway through.

"Now that Borneheld is King, Axis is going to need all the help he can get,"

Faraday finished. "Will you help?"

Judith nodded her head, her eyes thoughtful. "Yes, I will, Faraday. It is what Priam would have wanted me to do...and it is what / want to do." She paused.

"And I think I know someone who may tip the balance in Axis' favour."

Borneheld's coronation was held the day after Priam was laid to rest. Clouds of war hung over Achar, and in times such as these, haste was called for.

A public holiday was proclaimed, and colourful bunting hung out. Flags and pennants were hastily raised to honour the new King the next. A public feast would have been appropriate and appreciated, but there was no time to arrange it, so Borneheld simply ordered that barrels of wine and ale be available on every street corner so that the good citizens of Carlon could simply get drunk without the food.

While the Carlonites partied in the streets, the actual coronation took place in the Chamber of the Moons. The entire court was present, every man, woman or child of noble blood crowded into the Chamber. The ceremony itself was officiated over by Jayme, who lowered the heavy gold circlet of office onto Borneheld's head. As the trumpeting of horns far above them announced to the outside world that a new King had been crowned, Borneheld stood to receive the pledges of homage and fealty from his nobles.

Beside him, Faraday sat on a smaller throne, a simple coronet on her head, remembering the night she had first seen Axis in this chamber. One day, she prayed to the Mother, I will sit with Axis on this dais.

The most important nobles approached the dais first. Duke Roland of Aldeni and Earl Jorge of Avonsdale, both down from Jervois Landing for the coronation; Baron Ysgryff of Nor, his exotic features fixed in an expression of the sincerest loyalty as he pledged himself to Borneheld; Earl Burdel of Arcness, Borneheld's friend and ally and now, no doubt, expecting handsome rewards for having supported Borneheld in the past; Baron Greville of Tarantaise, as volubly sincere as Baron Ysgryff had been; and, finally among the higher nobles, the lords of the provinces, came Faraday's father, Earl Isend of Skarabost — now, Faraday noted with some dismay, taken up with a blowsy young noblewoman from Rhaetia who had rouged her nipples so heavily that they had stained the sheer material of her bodice.

After the nobles came sundry dignitaries and ambassadors. As the Corolean ambassador bowed low over his hand, Borneheld made a mental note to request the ambassador to come and see him at the first possible opportunity. Borneheld wanted to conclude a military alliance with the Coroleans as soon as he could.

Before the minor nobles could step forward to pay Borneheld homage, Judith, former Queen, and her lady-in-waiting, Lady Embeth of Tare, stepped forward.

Borneheld frowned, but Faraday inclined her head slightly.

"Yes?" Borneheld asked, as Judith rose frorn her curtsey. The woman, so confident in her graciousness, had always made him feel clumsy.

"Sire," Judith began, "please accept my congratulations on your coronation and my sincere hopes for a long and bountiful reign. I pledge myself to you as your most loyal subject and hope that you know that if you need anything at all, I shall be only too willing to provide it for you."

"Sire." Judith's voice changed slightly, and Borneheld suppressed a grimace.

He knew that tone of voice. The bitch was going to ask him for something.

"Sire, I would ask a boon."

No doubt a substantial annuity or country estate, Borneheld sighed inwardly.

Dowager Queens ever were a nuisance.

"I am still prostrate with grief, Sire, and I would ask that you excuse me from court. You have your own court, and a beautiful wife to grace it." Judith inclined her head to Faraday and smiled slightly. She turned back to Borneheld.

"Embeth, the Lady of Tare, has offered me the sanctuary of her home. I would ask that you excuse both of us from court and from Carlon, so that we may retire to the quieter life of Tare."

Borneheld was surprised. What? No money? No jewels? Just permission to retire from court? Easy enough. He waved a magnanimous hand. "You have my permission, Judith."

"I leave this afternoon, if it pleases you, Sire," Judith said humbly. In truth, she and Embeth had their carriages waiting outside.

"Then I wish you well, Judith, Embeth. Perhaps I will visit one day. Once the Forbidden have been put in their place, of course."

"I will look forward to it with pleasure, Sire," Judith said sweetly.

She curtsied deeply again, caught Faraday's eye for an instant, then she and Embeth swiftly left the Chamber of the Moons.

Faraday stared after them sadly. She wished she rode with them. They had gone, not only to recuperate, but also to wait for Axis. If Axis was alive and if he led an army against Borneheld, there was every likelihood that he would pass by Tare. And if he did, then there waited Judith to inform both Axis and all who would listen that Priam had named Axis his rightful heir. Faraday smiled to herself. Judith hoped to have another, equally substantial surprise waiting for Axis as well.

Azhure's Dilemma

Azhure lay under the light wraps and listened to£a\ Rivkah breathe. The women had shared an apartJL. JLment since their arrival in Sigholt six weekspreviously, and their friendship had deepened and broadenedsince their time in Sigholt.

For Azhure the past six weeks had been the happiest of her life. She had enjoyed her time in Talon Spike, and revelled in her acceptance by the Icarii, but she had found her true niche here in Sigholt. Belial, astounded by her skill with the Wolven and impressed by her determination to be useful, had given her a squad of thirty-six archers to train.

To his surprise and to the astonishment of everyone else, Azhure had proved a natural leader. The squad quickly became the most disciplined, ordered and happy in Sigholt, and, to Belial and Magariz's constant amazement, none of her thirty-six men complained about being put under the command of a woman. Life in a garrison filled with three thousand men and exactly two women could have been awkward, but Azhure was no prude and, despite her good looks, within a week most of the men had simply accepted her for her abilities and seemed not to notice her sex overmuch. She was more noted for her skill at archery and the constant shadows of three or more of the Alaunt hounds at her heels.

But Belial had not remained impervious to Azhure's femininity, and therein lay Azhure's dilemma. She sighed and carefully slid out of bed. She waited for her stomach to settle, then swiftly dressed in a pair of man's breeches, riding boots and a light shirt. She snatched a jacket as she slipped quietly from the room. Sicarius, who slept at the foot of the bed, pushed out in front of her.

As the door closed behind Azhure, Rivkah opened her eyes and wondered when the woman would confide in her.

Azhure hurried down the stairs of the Keep, nodded to the guard at the main entrance, and walked briskly across the main courtyard towards the stables. This was the time of day when Azhure loved to ride, before dawn, when the day was fresh and young, and her best thinking could be done without the distractions of the bustling Sigholt community about her. Two of the other Alaunt hounds joined her, but she waved the rest back. She did not want the entire pack to disturb her thoughts this morning.

Azhure walked down to Belaguez's stall, whistling as she approached. Much to Belial and Magariz's horror she had started to ride the stallion several weeks ago. Belial, knowing how difficult the stallion was to control, could not believe that Azhure would manage to stay on more than five minutes. But Belaguez had responded to something in the woman, and although he sometimes pulled too hard, he otherwise behaved himself for her. Watching from the edges of the courtyard the first time Azhure had put the stallion through his paces, Belial had looked at Magariz, and then simply shrugged. Well, someone had to exercise the horse, and if Azhure could manage, then she could have the job.

Azhure rubbed a brush over the grey stallion's coat, then slipped a light saddle on his back. She cinched the girth tightly, waiting for the horse to blow himself out, then tightened the girth one more notch. The bridle took only an

instant to buckle, and then Azhure opened the stall door and led Belaguez out into the dark courtyard. The three Alaunt were waiting patiently by the gateway to the Keep, and Azhure swung into the saddle.

She nodded to the three guards on sentry-duty - they were used to her early morning rides - and then greeted the bridge cheerfully.

Once across, Azhure touched her heels lightly to the stallion's flanks and they were off, racing the sun to see which could top the crest of the Urqhart Hills first.

The view from the peak was superb. Azhure could see in a complete circle for many leagues. Directly below them stood Sigholt, gleaming in the pre-dawn light, the Lake steaming gently beyond. Azhure slid from the horse's back and sat on a nearby rock to watch the sun rise over the far distant Avarinheim. At the precise moment the sun crested the distant forest Azhure could almost have sworn the top of the forest canopy waved at her. But Azhure did not fool herself.

The Avarinheim and the Avar were too concerned with their own problems to worry much about her. Besides, both Avarinheim and Avar waited for Faraday, no-one else.

Azhure looked back down at the Keep, preoccupied with Belial. She and Belial had soon overcome their initial awkwardness on her arrival, and he had made it plain he harboured no ill feelings towards her rather savage assault on his person in Smyrton.

"You can work your guilt off by proving your worth here," Belial had said, and that was exactly what Azhure had set out to do, working herself and her squad of archers to the best of her ability. She had seen the appreciation in Belial's eyes and basked in his words of praise. She enjoyed his company and his friendship. Belial was a large part of the reason why these last six weeks had been so good.

But, over the past ten days or so, Belial had indicated he wanted to develop their relationship to a more intimate level.

Last night he had come upon her in the stable as she groomed Belaguez, and had laughingly seized and kissed her. What had at first simply been a light-hearted kiss had deepened until Azhure had pulled back, afraid not of Belial, but of her own enjoyment. He had asked her, then, into his bed and into his life. But Azhure s eyes had filled with tears and Belial had been instantly contrite.

Reassuring him, Azhure had kissed him gently, asking for a night to think.

And, oh, by the heavens, how tempting it would be to accept such a proposal! Azhure was sure she could develop a loving for Belial. He would be a man with whom she could easily spend a lifetime. And he loved her. That was a remarkable experience for Azhure, for, apart from Rivkah, Azhure had never before been loved. The entire village of Smyrton, as Hagen, had regarded her with disdain for her Nors features and beauty, and for her temper and independent spirit. The young men of the village had sought only the use of her body, and when she had consistently refused their attentions, they had spread rumours of her willing cooperation.

On all counts, Belial's obvious regard and love presented Azhure with every reason to accept his proposal. But there were complications. She loved Axis, yet that alone would not stop her from accepting Belial's proposal. Azhure well knew that Axis planned and hungered for the day when he would be by Faraday's side again. She harboured no childish visions about Axis asking for her hand in marriage. Azhure had already seen the disastrous effects of an attempted marriage between an Icarii Enchanter and a human woman, and Azhure knew, knew, that a life with Axis was denied her.

In that case, why not leap for the life that Belial offered her?

Azhure's hands fluttered over her stomach. Because she was pregnant with Axis' child, and that changed everything. She remembered that on the night she had fled Smyrton she'd dreamed that one day she would find a hero to father her children, and...well...now she had her wish. And though Belial might well accept Axis' child, Azhure simply could not go to his bed not only loving another man, but bearing his child as well. Besides, Axis had grown to maturity never knowing his own father, always doubting that he loved him, and it would tear him apart to know that a child of his would suffer a similar fate.

Azhure could not deny Axis his child.

What should she do?

Explain to Belial. Confide in him. Belial deserved to know. Then? Wait for Axis. Axis would surely return to Sigholt shortly.

Beyond that Azhure did not want to think. She was terrified that Axis might take the child from her completely.

"Never," Azhure muttered. "No-one will take this child from me." She would not deny her child its mother. Her eyes filled with tears. Azhure had loved her mother deeply, had pined whenever she could not see her, whenever she could not hear her mother's footfall or hear her sweet voice as she cleaned the house or tended the garden and poultry. Azhure had believed that her mother was the most beautiful woman in existence. Her desertion had scarred Azhure irreparably

-scarred her with a guilt that constantly gnawed at her. Had she not loved her mother well enough? Had her mother thought her a bad daughter?

"Why?" Azhure whispered, "why did you not take me with you, Mama? I loved you, Mama, I loved you!"

Of all her sins, Azhure constantly berated herself that she could not remember her mother's name; that single loss had festered at Azhure's conscience day and night for more than twenty years. She struggled, fought through sleepless nights. As a growing girl Azhure had once asked Hagen what her mother's name had been, but Hagen had lost his temper in a frightening display of anger and had badly beaten Azhure, and the girl had never asked from that day forth. Not only her mother, but her mother's name was lost to her.

Azhure took a deep breath. She would be there for her baby, and her baby would never have occasion to forget Azhure's name.

Her mind drifted, wondering what it would feel like to hold her baby for the first time, what it would feel like to have a child love and trust her and come to her for comfort and laughter. Axis' child would surely be wondrous. She smiled.

Would it be golden-haired like Axis? Or would it inherit her dark hair and pale skin? How Icarii would it be, and how human?

She looked about her, and quickly realised that the sun was already well above the horizon. If she did not hurry, the entire garrison might come searching for her. Azhure shot to her feet and grabbed Belaguez's reins, making the horse toss his head in alarm.

"Damn," Azhure muttered feelingly as she mounted the restless stallion. He would have to forgo his run down HoldHard Pass this morning. Was Belial already waiting for her in the stable?

He was.

Belial smiled at Azhure and took the stallion's reins from her. Azhure busied herself with unsaddling Belaguez.

As she undid the girth, Belial stepped up behind her and touched the back of her neck with his fingers. "Azhure, I hope you did not misunderstand me last night. I meant marriage, not simply a casual affair. I do not want you simply for a night, but for my life."

"I know," Azhure whispered, then closed her eyes as he gently kissed her neck, then her cheek, and then slipped his arms about her. He would make a good father for my children, thought Azhure. My dreams of heroes were so childish. What woman could ask for anything more than a good, solid man to support her?

"And your answer?" he said, his mouth in her hair now.

"Belial," she took his hands where they rested against her waist and slid them gently over her stomach. "Belial, I am pregnant. I cannot accept."

She felt his breathing falter and closed her eyes as she felt his pain. He did not deserve this.

"Axis," he said woodenly.

Azhure hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes," she said, and at her answer Belial tore himself away from her and thumped the stable wall in frustration and anger. Belaguez jumped sideways, startled, his ears laid back along his skull.

"Damn him," Belial seethed. "I have never, never, envied him his women until now!" He turned to face Azhure again. "Azhure, I love you. I want you whether you are pregnant or not. Whether you love Axis or not. You know that you have no life with him! You know that we could build a good life together!"

Why couldn't Axis have left her alone? Had the man no conscience? No self control? What of Faraday?

Azhure started to cry silently. "Belial. You must know more than anyone how it would hurt Axis to know that a child of his would be raised without true knowledge of its parentage. Do I know that I have no future with him? Yes, I do, Belial. But until Axis returns and the child is born I can make no decisions.

None."

Belial looked away again, his eyes dull now. "When?"

"Early Raven-month next year. The child was conceived at Beltide. The first day of Flower-month." She looked down at her hands. "It was just that once."

Belial laughed sourly. "Once? That was all he needed?" Azhure nodded, knowing that Belial was angry at Axis rather than at her. She wiped away some of her tears.

Belial shook his head in disbelief. "Axis should have bastards littered across half of Achar if once was all he needed. to get a woman with his child. Why you, Azhure? Why you?"

He reached out and cradled Azhure against his body, certain that this would be the last time he held her. He could not compete with Axis. "Azhure, if you had not been pregnant, would you have come to me?"

Azhure did not hesitate. "Yes, I would have been honoured to do so."

For a long time they stood there quietly in the stable, listening to Sigholt wake up about them.

Rivkah had been up an hour when Azhure came back to change. Rivkah knew immediately she saw her that something was very wrong.

"Azhure? What is it?"

Azhure could say nothing as tears streamed down her face, and Rivkah hurried across the room and folded her in her arms. She hugged the younger woman and rocked her a little.

"Azhure, I know that you are pregnant." She smiled, trying to cheer Azhure up. "This will be my first grandchild."

"Belial asked me to marry him last night, and I cannot. Not carrying Axis'

child."

"Ah." Rivkah began to see. Azhure had wanted to walk away from the inevitable pain of Axis. Belial would have provided the perfect escape for her. But Azhure had not walked far enough nor quickly enough. And Axis was not likely to let a child of his go, especially if it was an Enchanter.

Rivkah led Azhure to the bed and held her while the woman cried herself out. Like Belial, Rivkah wondered at the fact that Axis had left no children behind him to this day, despite a string of lovers. Azhure s child would be his first.

Unlike Belial, Rivkah knew the reason why. Male Enchanters — indeed, Icarii birdmen generally — found it difficult to father children. And once they had managed it with one woman, they were as reluctant to let that woman go as they were to let the child go. In fact, Icarii often did not formally marry until the couple were expecting their first child — and sometimes a marriage would never take place if a child was not conceived. The couple would simply separate and reform partnerships with other people. A large part of the reason StarDrifter had been so fascinated with Rivkah, a large part of his love for her, had been her ability to bear him children. Now she was too old for a pregnancy, and StarDrifter still had the majority of his life to find another woman to bear him more children.

Rivkah rocked Azhure in her arms. After only one night, Azhure had fallen pregnant to Axis. No matter what the bond between Axis and Faraday, Azhure's simple fecundity would weld him tightly to her. Had Azhure left it too late to walk? Yes. Azhure could run as far as she liked now, but Axis would hunt her down. He would be unable to help himself.

The Enchantress' RingThey sat in a flat-

bottomed boat in the centre of a vast violet lake. Above them soared a massive domed roof of multifaceted crystals.

The Ferryman's eyes reflected the violet of the lake. "Your mother won for you the right to ask me for assistance. You ask to be taught. I will do that. But I have a condition."

"What?" Axis' voice was wary. Both StarDrifter and Rivkah had warned him that the Ferryman was a cunning bargainer — and one who spoke in riddles.

"I will teach you whatever you ask. But of you I will ask one thing. Whatever I teach you is for your use and the use of your issue only. When you return to the OverWorld, you will not teach StarDrifter, or any other Icani Enchanter, what you have learned down here. My teaching is for you and your children only. Do you agree?" "Why?"

The Ferryman's eyes glinted. "My purpose is not your concern. Do you agree? Or would you like me to return you to the OverWorld?"

"Agreed. I will teach none but my children."

"Good. What do you wish to know?"

"Your name."

"My name was once Orr, and you may call me that. Whatnext?"

Axis looked about him. The massive lake was completely deserted except for the boat they sat in, and Axis had seen no-one else in the waterways they had travelled. "Where are the other Charonites?"

"/ am the Charonites, Axis SunSoar. Not simply the last one left alive, but I am myself the complete race. We all reside in here." Orr tapped himself on the chest.

Axis looked at him strangely, but decided to let it pass. "Orr, what are the waterways?"

Orr actually chuckled, surprising Axis. "The waterways are far less mysterious than most suppose. It is simply that they are hidden so far from sight and so deep in memory, that whenever anyone from the OverWorld thinks of them, they think of them in shadows of mystery."

"Then tell me."

"You are impatient, Axis. That is your father in you."

Axis had already learned that Orr did not think very much of StarDrifter.

"Don't waste my time in riddles, Orr."

Orr sighed and meticulously adjusted his ruby-red cloak. "You have learned of the Star Dance?"

"Yes. I hear it about me every moment I am awake, and at night it rustles through my dreams."

"Axis, as you know the Icarii Enchanters use music to mirror the patterns of the Star Dance. The waterways do the same thing, except the pattern is laid down in a physical form. To travel the waterways is literally to move through the patterns of the particular 'Song' you wish."

"So for each Song there is a corresponding waterway?"

"Yes," the Ferryman said, a little hesitantly.

"As an Enchanter I have learned Songs, melodies, each with a specific purpose. I use each Song to manipulate the power of the Star Dance, the Songs serve as a conduit to weave the power of the Star Dance to my particular purpose."

"Yes, yes. All know that."

"But the waterways act as a different conduit for the power of the Star Dance? Instead of singing a Song, I simply travel the particular waterway that suits my purpose? Each of the waterways has its own purpose?"

"Yes. The waterways are just another way of manipulating the power of the Star Dance. Icarii Enchanters use music. The Charonites travel a particular waterway. It is a, ah, slightly more cumbersome way."

"In Talon Spike StarDrifter and MorningStar taught me all the Songs they knew. It is a finite number," said Axis.

Orr's great violet eyes sparkled. "A finite number? Really? How many?"

"Perhaps a thousand. It is what I find most restricting. If I have a purpose but no Song to suit, I cannot use my powers." "They only know about a thousand Songs?" Orr said, his mouth twitching. "Have they forgotten so much?"

Axis leaned forward, his excitement growing. He had been right to come down here. "How many do you know?" he asked, his voice tight. "How many waterways do you have?" Orr fought to control his humour. "Let me answer that by asking you another question, boy. Did StarDrifter teach you how to use your ring?"

Axis frowned and looked at the ring on the middle finger of his right hand.

Made of red gold and encrusted with diamond chips in star patterns, it was the SunSoar ring. Each House only had one ring, passed down through the generations, and StarDrifter had been happy to let Axis wear it.

"It is simply a symbol of my status as an Enchanter," Axis said finally. Use it?

What for? "The senior Enchanters of each House wear them. It has no use...does it?"

Orr covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth with silent merriment. Axis frowned in exasperation. What had he said now?

"My dear young man," Orr said finally, patting Axis affectionately on the knee. "My dear young man. I had not realised that the Icarii Enchanters had forgotten so much, had supped so deep into ineptitude. How can they still call themselves Enchanters?"

Axis almost shouted in his impatience. " What is it?" "Axis," Orr said, "there is almost no limit to the Songs you can sing, just as there is almost no limit to the waterways you can travel. You can wield the power of the Stars virtually any way you wish. How is it that the Icarii have forgotten this? Look at your ring."

Axis dropped his eyes. "Is the pattern uniform?" Orr asked. "No. The same pattern never seems to be repeated." "Quite. Now, think of a Song you know, think of the music, and look again at the ring."

Axis thought of the Song of Harmony. As the music ran through his head, his eyes widened. The pattern of the stars on his ring had shifted to match the Song.

"Now, Axis," Orr whispered, "think of a purpose for which you have no Song.

Something simple. I do not want you to blow us out of the water. Think of the purpose, and then look at the ring."

Axis thought, and the colour of the Ferryman's cloak caught his eye. A Song to change the colour of Orr's cloak to silvery grey, he thought to himself, then glanced at the ring. The pattern of the stars on his ring had shifted again — into a configuration that he did not know. He translated the pattern the ring showed him into a melody in his mind and instantly the Ferryman's cloak altered colour from ruby red into silvery grey.

Orr smiled. "Such a simple thing, eh? Yet the Icarii Enchanters have forgotten how to use their rings. The number of Songs that can be sung are limited only by the number of purposes you have."

"Do you mean," Axis said, hardly believing it could be this simple, "that all I have to do is to think of the purpose, watch the ring show me the pattern of the melody, and then I have the Song for the purpose?"

Orr nodded. "In the same way I use die waterways. There are relatively few physical waterways. If I have a purpose, or a place to go for which there is not a physical waterway, I simply diink of the purpose, and die waterway is created."

"Can I use the power of die Star Dance for any purpose?"

"No. You can't. Certainly there is a Song for most purposes, and all you need to do to learn the Song is to watch the patterns that the ring forms for you. But some Songs, some melodies, would be too dangerous for you. They would allow too much of the power of the Star Dance through — and you would die. A great deal of your learning as you grow in power, Axis SunSoar, is going to be knowing what patterns, what Songs, are too dangerous for you to attempt to use. That is why I asked you to think of a simple purpose. Generally, the more complex the purpose, the more you need to do, and the more power of the Star Dance you will be required to manipulate through Song. Having learned to use your ring, Axis, you must be very, very careful. Otherwise you will die as you attempt to use it."

Axis looked at die ring widi new-found respect. For what purposes would the ring show him Songs that were too dangerous to use?

"You will learn, Axis," Orr said. "You may scorch yourself now and again, but you will learn. There are purposes for which no Song exists. Only a few, and diey are mosdy to do widi healing. Rarely will you be able to use the music of die Star Dance to heal. Strange, because you can manipulate the Star Dance to recreate die dying, but a simple cut or bruise? At that die Star Dance baulks. I do not know why."

"For what you have told me I thank you, Orr," Axis said finally. "It is a great gift you have given me."

Orr inclined his head. "And you have given me a gift in return, Axis SunSoar.

I had not realised to what depths of stupidity the Icarii had sunk, but your revelations have been most informative. Forgotten how to use their rings, indeed!"

"Orr. MorningStar has told me some disturbing news," Axis said, cutting through the Ferryman's laughter.

"What is it?"

"She believes I was taught many Songs as a baby. She tells me no Enchanter knows a Song intuitively, yet I already knew many before I began training with her and StarDrifter."

"She is right. You did not have that ring as a baby?"

"No. I only received it some eight months ago."

"An Enchanter needs a ring, or someone else of their family, to teach him or her what Songs to sing. What were the Songs you already knew?"

"The Song of Recreation, and die Song of Recall."

"Both are powerful and complex Songs!"

"Yes. Orr, is there another SunSoar Enchanter about? StarDrifter believes the same Enchanter has taught Gorgrael."

Orr hissed in surprise. "I had never wondered who taught Gorgrael. It was remiss of me."

"And Gorgrael uses the Dark Music of the Stars," said Axis. "So whoever taught him knows how to use that music as well?"

Orr nodded, obviously troubled.

"Orr, can I use the Dark Music with this ring?"

"No. The rings are only designed to draw xm the power of the Star Dance itself. Gorgrael has no ring in any case, and what Icarii Enchanter knows the use of the Dark Music? None that I know of. Axis, your words trouble me. I will have to think on them further."

After a long while Axis spoke again. "Orr. I have seen some of GorgraeFs creatures fade from view. They seem to be able to use their magic to move through space, perhaps time. Can I do that?"

Orr nodded. "Obviously they use the Dark Music to do that, and that you cannot touch. But it is possible for you to. travel across vast distances in a fraction of a heartbeat using your ring. Nevertheless, there are limits," he said quickly as he saw excitement on Axis' face. "Although you can travel from anywhere, there are only a few sites you can travel to."

"What do you mean?"

The Ferryman's fingers tapped the side of the boat. "Only certain sites in Tencendor can pull you to them. If you try to use the Song of Movement to travel to some other place, you will simply disintegrate into thin air. Do I make myself dear?"

"Yes. What sites can pull me to them?"

"Sites with enough inherent magic to act as beacons, as it were, for the Song of Movement. The magical Keeps -Sigholt, the Silent Woman Keep, Spiredore -"

"Spiredore?"

"What you know as the Tower of the Seneschal. Yes," Orr said wryly, noting the stunned look on Axis' face, "the Seneschal has taken up residence in one of the ancient and certainly the most magical of the Keeps of Tencendor. But be wary of trying to use that as a base for travel, Axis, because Spiredore's magic currently lies slumbering under the weight of the Seneschal's lies. Until it is awakened, like Sigholt has recently been, then you cannot use it."

"I understand. Are there any other sites?"

"Yes. The Earth Tree now that she sings. The Star Gate -"

"I have heard of the Star Gate," Axis broke in, "but I have not seen it."

"Be patient," Orr snapped. "I will take you there eventually. The Island of Mist and Memory is another, but, like Spiredore, its Temple needs to be relit before you can use it."

"So, when you have finished teaching me, all I have to do to travel to Sigholt is to think of the Keep, note the pattern of stars on my ring, and sing the melody it depicts?"

Orr nodded. "Yes. That is all. But remember, Axis, only those sites that I have mentioned - and only those among them that are currently awake - are strong enough to pull you towards them. Try the Song of Movement with any other site and you will die."

Sobered, Axis studied his ring. In only a few minutes he had learned more from the Ferryman than he had learned in months from StarDrifter.

Orr stared at the water, a strange urge building in him. He had been waiting a very long time for this. So this was the man? He trailed his fingers in the violet water, then abruptly snatched something from beneath the water's surface.

Axis jumped. "What?" he began, then the Ferryman held his dripping hand palm up for Axis' inspection.

Lying in the very centre of Orr's palm was the most exquisite ring Axis had ever seen. It was an Enchanter's ring, he could see that at once, but unlike his or any other. The entire ring appeared to be crafted from sapphire, although the deep blue was far more translucent than any sapphire Axis had ever seen. On Axis' ring, as on the others he had seen, the stars were represented by tiny diamond chips embedded into the ring's surface. But, as he picked this ring up, Axis saw that golden stars actually danced and weaved from within this ring. It was a tiny ring, obviously crafted for a woman's finger.

"It is very beautiful," he whispered.

"Yes," Orr replied. "It is. Axis, this is the original ring from which all other Enchanter rings were, copied. It first appeared in the custody of the original Enchantress, the common ancestor and mother of both the Icarii and Charonite races who first discovered how to use the power of the Stars. She lived some fifteen thousand years ago. A very long time." He paused. "I do not know how she came by it."

"She did not make it herself?" Axis asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the beauty of the ring.

"No. She was merely its custodian. The ring seeks its true owner. It will come home, but only when the Circle is complete."

Axis glanced up. "The Circle?"

The Ferryman's face closed over, and Axis understood that this was one mystery he was not yet prepared to divulge.

"And you have kept it since she died?" tried Axis.

"No. When the Enchantress died, she passed custody of the ring to the Icarii. They kept it and revered it for many thousands of years. It was their most precious relic."

"Then how did you come to get it?"

"It was brought to us by one of the Enchanter-Talons, some four thousand years ago, just before he died. His name was WolfStar SunSoar."

WolfStar's name again. "Why did he give it to you?"

"He said that patterns were altering. WolfStar was powerful, and promised far more great power. He died an untimely death — which in itself was not too unfortunate. I believe that he would have led the Icarii to disaster with his strange ideas and experiments. But that is neither here nor there. WolfStar handed it to me for safe-keeping. He told me that I would know to whom to pass it. I feel that person is you."

"What am I supposed to do with it? Can I use it?"

"No. You cannot. The Enchantress' ring does not work in the same manner as the ring you now wear — not even the Enchantress understood its full mysteries. All WolfStar told me was that I would know who to give it to, and that when I handed it over, I was to tell that person the same thing."

"What? What do you mean?"

"That you, in time, will also know who to hand the ring to. Believe me in this, Axis. The feeling will be overwhelming. You will know when and to whom the Enchantress' ring must be handed. Until then you must keep the ring safe.

Do not show it to anyone. Understand?"

"Yes. I understand. I will keep it safe," Axis reluctantly slid the ring into a small pocket, "and I will show it to no-one."

Who would the Enchantress" Ring pick? Who would complete this mysterious circle?

The PatrolYif f "^ -w"o\a squads do well, Azhure," Belial remarked, standing at the window of the map-room and watching the bands of mounted archers at practice. "You have done remarkable work with them."

Azhure accepted the compliment. Belial had given her a farther two squads to train four weeks previously and Azhure had turned her three squads of mounted archers into a mobile and deadly force that would complement any army. Although none of the archers came close to demonstrating Azhure's level of ability, they had all increased their skill twofold. There was not an archer in Achar who could better them now, Belial mused, as he watched them practise hitting moving targets while at the gallop.

His eyes met Azhure's and they moved back to where Magariz and Arne sat at the table in the centre of the room. In the five, weeks since Azhure had told Belial of her pregnancy they had overcome their initial awkwardness and established an easy, friendly relationship of mutual respect. Belial buried his feelings for Azhure as deep as he could.

All four in the room were garbed similarly in simple grey tunics over white breeches, each with the blazing blood-red sun on their left breasts. Azhure had argued persistently that the force in Sigholt would have to wear a common uniform, emblemised so that all would know for whom they fought.

"We are ready to fight, Belial," Azhure said as they sat down. "/ am ready to fight. Do not think that I'm going to stay at home and knit. Use me, use my command."

Belial caught Magariz's eye. Azhure had a familiar determined tone in her voice, but neither man felt comfortable using a woman in battle. Arne studied the flecks on the ceiling of the chamber. If the woman could fight, then he saw no reason why she shouldn't be allowed to do so.

"When the Icarii Strike Force arrives," Azhure pointed out, "you will see that they allow their women to fight. Axis has no qualms about using me."

"That was before you, ah, um ..." Belial's voice drifted into an awkward silence.

Azhure laughed. All in the room knew she was pregnant and that Axis was the father. "Before I fell pregnant? Well, maybe so. But my pregnancy has not stopped me thus far, has it? My sickness has gone now and I feel fitter, stronger than I ever have before. And see," she pressed her hands against her belly. "Still flat. Rivkah says that Icarii babes are small, that I won't grow too large. So, the fact is, I refuse to stay home. Until I grow too cumbersome to ride, I will be there, leading my command. Why give me three squads of archers? Do you want me to command them from my couch?"

Belial laughed and raised his hands in surrender, "All right, Azhure, if there is action and I think your command would be useful then it — and you — will be used. But," his tone and eyes became serious, "I will not allow you to ride if I think you will prove a risk to yourself, to your baby, or to your command. Do I make myself clear?"

Azhure wiped the smile from her face. "Perfectly, Commander."

"Well then," Belial said briskly. "Shall we get down to business? Magariz.

What news of the Skraelings?"

"Not enough to ease my mind, Belial." Magariz looked tired and drawn, and the scar on his cheek was even moreprominent than usual. "We know the Skraelings run through most of Ichtar and that they are slowly moving south —

our patrols are now encountering small numbers of them in the hills below Sigholt. But how many all told? And where do they gather? I don't know. All I do know is that we're only weeks away from autumn and Gorgrael has had months in which to build his forces. He must surely be massing for an attack...somewhere."

Belial studied the map before him. "Their most direct route into Achar is past Jervois Landing."

"What about the WildDog Plains?" Arne queried. "That route would give them straight run through to Skarabost."

Belial leaned back and looked at Arne. "We'll have to plan for that eventuality, but I don't think Gorgrael will send his main force that way. The River Nordra is a natural barrier between the WildDog Plains and Skarabost.

Remember how the River Andakilsa funnelled them through the Gorken Pass."

"Is there any chance they can isolate us from our supply routes, Belial?" Azhure largely had responsibility for the garrison's stores.

Belial started to say "No", then looked at the map again. "If they do push down the WildDog Plains they could cut off HoldHard Pass."

"If, if, if." Magariz's voice was tight with strain. "Always if. Must we sit here and wait for their first move?" , "There isn't much else we can do, Magariz,"

Belial replied shortly. "Our force is currently too small to scout any further than the southern and eastern Urqhart Hills. And Axis..."

There was silence. When would Axis get back? Azhure briefly laid a hand on her belly.

"We need Axis," Belial finished. "And we need the Strike Force's scouting abilities. Magariz, is there no more news regarding the Strike Force?"

"No, Belial. The last intelligence we had from their farflight scouts was that they'd arrive in three weeks' time."

Belial sighed. "Well, whatever our problems, Borneheld undoubtedly faces far worse. Last night I received word from the scouts I'd sent into Jervois Landing. The news is good and bad, my friends. Borneheld has ordered a series of canals be constructed between the Nordra and Azle rivers to create a barrier of running water. Borneheld has enough men that, with the aid of the canals, he may have a chance of holding Gorgrael's Skraelings to Ichtar this winter."

"And the bad news," Arne put in, "must be that if Borneheld manages to blunt the Skraeling danger he'll have a battle-hardened army to throw at us.

Borneheld will indulge his hatred of Axis with everything he's got."

"Well, we must have roughly the same number of forces," said Magariz carefully, watching Belial. "And as good."

Belial was silent.

"How many forces does Borneheld command at Jervois Landing, Belial?"

Azhure asked finally.

Belial took a deep breath. "At best estimate, almost twenty thousand."

All three started forward, and Arne swore viciously.

" Twenty thousand?" Magariz repeated. "But where could he have got so many? At the most we had fourteen thousand at Gorkenfort — and Borneheld had almost stripped Achar bare to get those. We lost some six thousand in the fighting, three thousand left with us to follow Axis...why, Borneheld would have left Gorkenfort with only some five thousand men. Belial, your information must be wrong!"

Belial shook his head. "I wish it were, my friend, I wish it were. No, Borneheld has at least twenty thousand in Jervois Landing. My spies tell me that the Ravensbund chief, one Ho'Demi, brought at least eleven thousand men to Borne-held's cause. And Borneheld also has the use of all the refugees who fled Ichtar before the Skraelings, plus the soldiers who fled Sigholt itself. At the least twenty thousand. Probably more."

There was silence. With the Icarii they would number at best five thousand.

It would be a fierce and bloody fight for control of Achar.

Azhure tapped the table, thinking aloud. "But Borneheld will have to fight on two fronts. He will always have to keep an army at Jervois Landing to keep the Skraelings back, and once Axis takes command here he will undoubtedly move down through Skarabost before he swings west towards Carlon. Borneheld will have to split his force."

Belial studied her. "You're right, Azhure. But Axis will have to do the same thing. If he moves down into Achar with his main force, then he will still have to leave a good force here in Sigholt to guard the WildDog Plains. The last thing Axis will want is to have Gorgrael attack him from his rear while he's trying to defeat Borneheld."

"Well, don't forget you also have my pack of fifteen Alaunt." Azhure grinned.

"They might well tip the balance in our favour."

The men stared at her for a moment, then they guffawed with laughter.

"Enough of Borneheld and the Skraelings," Belial said, grateful to Azhure for breaking the tension. "At the moment the influx of refugees into Sigholt is almost as worrying."

When Belial had first occupied Sigholt he had sent small bands of men down into Skarabost to scout out possible supply routes and spread word of the Prophecy. The organisation of supply routes was going well, but news of the Prophecy was now attracting so many people to Sigholt that it was rapidly representing a major new problem. Small groups — sometimes only four or five, sometimes twenty or thirty - had started to arrive some four weeks ago and the numbers had grown steadily ever since.

"Belial, I am sure there is no need to look so worried," Azhure said. "You should be pleased that so many see fit to flock to Axis' cause."

"Don't lecture me!" Belial snapped, "just tell me what you've done with them." As well as training her three squads of mounted archers, Azhure had also assumed responsibility for feeding, accommodating and generally organising the new arrivals.

"I've managed to accommodate them in tents on the north-eastern shores of the Lake. We have enough food for the moment, and many of them have brought their own. And soon we'll have additional food to supplement what we get via our supply routes."

"Really? How so?" asked Magariz.

Azhure glanced out the window. "Since the Lake has sprung to life, so have the Urqhart Hills. I set the larger number of refugees to clearing and digging vegetable gardens. They were planted some two weeks ago, and the first vegetables are nearing maturity now. It is the waters, apparently, that encourage new life."

"Good." Belial nodded, then looked to Arne. "Any fighters among them?"

Arne shrugged. "Most are peasants, driven to hunger by the extremity of the previous winter, and clinging to any story or rumour that promises mem a better life. But many of the younger men are strong, many are eager. They can wield a stave with the best of them."

"Do they want to fight for Axis," Belial asked, "or are they just streaming into Sigholt because it promises some refuge from Gorgrael's icy winds?"

"A bit of both, I think," Magariz answered. "Many Acharites have been scared by the news of the fall of Gorkenfort and the loss of Ichtar. They wonder if the Star-Man the Prophecy speaks of might be the one to save them, rather than Borneheld. And you know the reputation Axis enjoyed as BattleAxe. Still, from what I can gather, it is only a tiny fraction of the population of Skarabost that seeks to wend its way north. Most either prefer to stay with their homes, with what they know, or are scared by the idea that the Prophecy speaks of an alliance with the Forbidden."

Belial sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Well, I hope they won't jump too much when the Strike Force drops out of the sky."

Magariz reined in his horse, waving at the patrol behind him to stay out of sight. He turned in the saddle and looked for Azhure. They were on an extended patrol in the southern Urqhart Hills, the River Nordra only half a league away to the south. This was dangerous territory. Not only were there Skraelings about, but Borneheld's forces had been increasing their patrols here as well. The last patrol Belial sent into this area had encountered a well-armed band of twenty men from Jervois Landing. In the skirmish that followed both sides lost almost half their men. Thus the presence of Azhure and two squads of her archers on this patrol - they had already proved their worth.

Magariz motioned Azhure forward. They had been out some eight days, scouting the southern hills to test the strength of both Skraelings and Borneheld's forces. Already they'd encountered small bands of Skraelings, and Azhure had proved as calm and reliable in battle as she was around the conference table. Her archers had conducted themselves as well as their leader, and when they returned Magariz would recommend to Belial that Azhure be given several more squads. The Alaunt were also showing themselves to be useful in battle. The day before yesterday they had encountered a band of about two hundred Skraelings, braver and better organised than most. Azhure had directed her archers, then motioned to the hounds, sending them in among the Skraelings. Magariz had been horrified, thinking that if the Alaunt survived the Skraelings then they'd be murdered by the arrows raining down among them.

But the Alaunt weaved and ducked, knowing instinctively when an arrow sped their way, and they pulled down as many Skraelings as Azhure's archers. Both archers and hounds had kept the patrols injuries minimal.

"What do you think of the valley ahead?" he asked as Azhure reined in Belaguez by his side.

"There's a camp site about a third of the way down the valley," she said.

"Perhaps some fifteen men and their horses. They have a camp fire, but they use long-dead wood so that it burns bright with no smoke."

Magariz nodded. "Good. If you were their commander, would you allow all your men to sit about the fire and sing cheerful songs in territory that is distinctly unfriendly?"

"No. No. There are, ah," Azhure strained her eyes, "about fifteen men around the fire, but considerably more horses. He has sentries posted. Perhaps six or seven."

"Very well, what do you suggest?"

She turned to look at him. His face was dark and inscrutable beneath the hood of his black cloak. "Attack?"

Magariz considered. "Perhaps. Twenty or so less men for Borneheld would help us, but I do not know where the patrol commander has his sentries, and I hardly think it worthwhile to risk an attack for just twenty or so men."

"And if we could dispose of the sentries — could we capture those about the fire? Wring what information we could from them before we kill them?"

"Ideally. But how do we dispose of unseen sentries?"

Azhure's eyes were cold. "I send in the Alaunt. They can track them. Kill them in silence. They will be dead in half an hour at the most. The main group about the fire wall never know we are there until we have them surrounded."

"Then send in the hounds, Azhure, and we will see how silently they can track and kill."

They killed both silently and well, and were back at Azhure's side in less than twenty minutes, their muzzles flecked with red. "Well?" she asked Magariz.

"We go in on foot for added silence. The band about the fire will suspect nothing. Come, bring your archers."

It was dusk by the time they surrounded the fifteen men relaxing about the fire. Azhure had kept the Alaunt close by her side and had approached downwind in order not to frighten the men's horses, hobbled some distance away down the stream. Five men flanked the patrol about the camp fire and moved to cut the horses free. Magariz moved the rest, both archers and ordinary soldiers, into position with hand signals, then indicated that Azhure should stay close to him.

Azhure notched an arrow into the Wolven.

They crouched in the tree line just outside the range of the firelight, listening to the men talk. They were from Jervois Landing, and, like Magariz's patrol, almost at the end of their duty and relieved they had avoided the desperate armed bandits they'd heard were in these hills.

Azhure felt Magariz tense and glanced at him. He pointed to a soldier relaxing against a rock and whispered, "Nevelon. Lieutenant to Duke Roland. A good man."

Azhure looked at the man. He was young and fit, with thick brown hair and a short-cropped beard. Not good enough, she thought, if he still owed his loyalty to Borneheld rather than Axis.

Magariz placed a hand on Azhure's shoulder and whispered into her ear.

"Back me up on this, Azhure. I want to speak to them. Nevelon is a sensible man. If he knows his command is surrounded by archers he will not try to fight his way free. Can your archers put a ring of arrows about them?"

Azhure nodded, signalled to her men, then raised her eyebrows at Magariz.

She had the Wolven ready to fire. "Now?"

"Now," he nodded.

At Azhure's signal a vicious rustle of arrows filled the air, and an instant later the men about the camp fire leapt to their feet and gazed horrified, at the arrows ringing them in a perfect circle.

"Nevelon." Magariz stepped into the firelight. "Do not consider your weapons. At my signal, or at the first handspan of steel that you or any one of your men draw, you are dead."

Nevelon nodded curtly and motioned to his men to drop their hands from their sword hilts.

"Magariz," he said. "I thought you were dead."

"Alas, no." Magariz's entire posture was relaxed and confident. In the firelight his scarred face looked demonic. "It seems we both escaped Gorkenfort safely. Tell me, how is your Duke, Roland?"

A muscle in Nevelon's cheek twitched. By Artor, the man was as cool as if he trod the court in Carlon. Did he intend to kill them? "Roland still lives - although these last months have seen him lose considerable weight."

"And Borneheld. Fit and well? I would hate to hear he had succumbed to a cold on the flight from Gorkenfort."

"The King is well," Nevelon said carefully.

Magariz rocked in surprise. Borneheld was King? He almost tripped as his wounded leg slipped on a loose rock underfoot.

Nevelon grinned, and reached for the dagger in his belt. He was widely renowned for his skill at throwing the blade, and he could easily kill Magariz before the man had time to signal to his archers. If they all died in a hail of arrows after that — well, Magariz surely intended to kill them anyway. His hand whipped the knife out of his belt, but before he let it fly Nevelon gave a cry of pain and dropped the knife. Bristling from the back of his hand was an arrow fletched with beautiful blue feathers.

"The next one goes in your left eye, Nevelon," a woman's voice said, "and I will personally be the one to twist it all the way through to your brain. Do you understand me?"

Nevelon nodded, clutching his hand to his chest.

"Then I would appreciate my arrow back, Lieutenant," the voice continued.

"Would you mind twisting it out and throwing it behind Magariz?"

Nevelon couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Twist it out? The arrowhead had penetrated so deeply it was halfway through the palm of his hand.

"Now " the voice demanded.

Magariz laughed sardonically. "Nevelon, hear her. She has a special attachment to those arrows, and will not mind killing you with another to get the first back."

Nevelon abruptly took hold of the shaft of the arrow and twisted it free. He gave a harsh grunt of pain, then, ashen-faced, tossed the arrow behind Magariz.

"Thank you," the voice said, and from the darkness emerged the largest hound Nevelon had ever seen, pale cream and gold. It paced carefully to the arrow, its eyes on Nevelon's throat, then picked it up and disappeared back into the night.

"Thank you, Azhure," Magariz called softly. "I think you saved my life."

Nevelon heard the name. Azhure?

Magariz shifted his black eyes back to Nevelon. "Borneheld is King? Priam is dead?"

Nevelon nodded warily. He could just make out the woman now. Raven-haired, she had a magnificent bow drawn tight in her hands. He noticed that two of his men, Ravensbundmen, were staring at the bow fixedly. "Yes. Priam died some weeks ago. He developed a fatal brain fever and died crazed."

"Well," Magariz said. "The message remains the same."

Message? Would he live after all?

"As you can see, Nevelon, Azhure and myself wear the emblem of the blazing blood-red sun. Do you know it?"

Nevelon shook his head.

"Well, Nevelon, then you niust remember it. It is the emblem of the StarMan. You must remember the Prophecy that so many spoke of in Gorkenfort."

"It was a lie." Nevelon's voice did not sound very sure.

"No," Magariz said, wiping his face free of any expression of artfulness. "The Prophecy does not lie. We wait for the StarMan to lead us — and Achar — to victory against Gorgrael."

"Axis!" Nevelon spat, remembering Magariz naming Axis as the StarMan at Gorkenfort as he revealed his treacherous nature and deserted Borneheld. "You both betrayed us at Gorkenfort."

Magariz's face hardened. "No, Nevelon. Axis and I, as others, did the best we could in a situation that was unwin-nable. Now listen, for I have a message for Borneheld. Tell him that if he does not ally himself with the cause of the StarMan he will die. Only Axis can lead Achar to victory. Tell him that if he persists in denying the Prophecy then the Prophecy will tear him apart. If he has won a kingdom, then he will not long enjoy it. Tell him Axis comes, and he conies with the power of the Prophecy behind him."

"And allied with the Forbidden?" Nevelon asked harshly.

"Allied with our friends, Nevelon," Magariz said. "We have an alliance built on trust and friendship. Tell me, how well does Borneheld trust those around him? News of the Prophecy spreads throughout Achar. The past is crumbling beneath our feet. Reach forward and embrace the future, Nevelon."

Nevelon spat at Magariz's feet.

"A brave, but somewhat foolish action, Nevelon. What will it accomplish?

Remember my message for Borneheld. Now, I must go. Do not think to follow us. Your horses have been scattered and it will take you hours to find them. I would take your weapons, but if I did that you would be easy prey for the Skraelings, and I want my message to reach Borneheld. Your sentries are dead, killed by these hounds. Azhure?"

Azhure whistled softly and the fifteen Alaunt stepped forward from the shadows to encircle Nevelon and his men.

"They will stand guard while we move away," said Magariz. "If you make one move they will kill you. Azhure?"

She nodded and murmured to Sicarius who stood with his golden eyes fixed on Nevelon's face. He could smell the man's blood.

Magariz stepped back and put his hand on Azhure's shoulder. An instant later they were gone in the shadows.

Nevelon stood and stared at the hounds.

"I would believe what he said, Lieutenant Nevelon," one of the Ravensbundmen said softly. "They are the legendary Alaunt."

Nevelon looked at the Ravensbundman, startled. He swallowed and stood perfectly still, clutching his crippled hand against his chest, until the ghost hounds eventually melted back into the night.

Even then, no-one moved for almost an hour.

Star GateThey sat in the flat-bottomed boat in the centre of the violet lake underneath the light of the crystals. The Star Dance drifted about them. Sometimes they talked, mostly they sat in silence.

"Explain about the Star Gods," Axis asked, "for StarDrifter and MorningStar's teaching confused me."

"In what manner?" Orr prompted.

"There are nine Star Gods," Axis said, and Orr inclined his head. "Yet I know only seven names: Adamon and Xanon, the two senior Gods of the Firmament; Silton, God of Fire; Pors, God of Air; Zest, Goddess of Earth; Flulia, Goddess of Water; and Narcis, God of the Sun. Yet the gods of Moon and Song have no names. Why is that?"

"Over many thousands of years seven of the Nine of the Star Gods have revealed themselves," Orr replied. "Only Moon and Song are yet to grace us with their names. In time, perhaps in thousands of years, we will be enlightened of all."

Axis frowned slightly. "But these Gods seem very distant, Orr. When I lived as BatdeAxe, and followed Artor, I could often feel his presence in prayer or moments of contemplation. Yet I cannot sense that when I pray to the Star Gods."

"They live, StarMan, but they have been trapped."

"Trapped?"

Orr shook his head sorrowfully. "There is nothing you or I can do, StarMan.

Nothing. The battle between Artor and the Star Gods concerns neither of us."

"Battle?"

But to that Orr would say no more, and they sat in silence for hours (days?) more as the Star Dance drifted about them.

Later Axis asked Orr about the Sacred Lakes. "Where did they come from?

What makes them so sacred? So magical?"

Orr shifted a little uncomfortably. "Many thousands of years ago, Axis, before my time, the Ancient Gods — those who came before even the Star Gods

- wrapped Tencendor in a fire-storm which lasted many days and almost blasted all life from the face of this earth. Only those who could find shelter in deep caves survived.

"The fire-storm and the Lakes the storm bequeathed us were a gift to remind us of the power of the Ancient Gods and of the paucity of our own being.

Some say that the Ancient Gods never returned to the Sky but lay down to sleep under the waters of the Sacred Lakes." Orr smiled. "But that I do not believe. I have never seen or heard them, and I have been here, silent, watching, some considerable time."

Axis rested his chin in his hand thoughtfully. Orr had given him vivid imagery but not much else. He opened his mouth to ask further about the fire-storm, but Orr deflected his question.

"The time has come for you to show me how well you have learned, Axis.

Take us to the Star Gate."

The Star Gate! Axis looked down at his ring. He thought of the purpose, and the purpose was to glide the boat to the legendary Star Gate, most sacred site of the Icarii people.

The stars on his ring re-formed themselves and Axis noted the pattern they created. He reached for the power of the Star Dance and hummed the melody softly.

They glided down tunnels, under strange bridges, and through strange caverns. Some caverns yawned empty, some had the skeletons of entire cities huddled about the water, some contained forests frozen in stone, some were so encased in grey mist that Axis could not see an arm's length beyond the boat.

"Note," the Ferryman said, "that the pattern of the waterway we travel reflects the pattern of the melody you sing."

"And if I were in the OverWorld," Axis asked, keeping the melody running through his head, "how would I travel?" " do not know, Axis SunSoar. That will be your adventure to discover."

Eventually they reached a small cavern and the boat glided to a halt in front of a set of stone steps which rose from the water. Axis moored the boat to a small stone pillar.

"Come," the Ferryman said, and stepped out of the boat, gathering his cloak about him.

Orr led Axis along a narrow passage which sloped gently upwards. As they walked Axis became aware of the sound of rushing wind and of a blue light that pulsed through the air.

"What is that sound, that light?" Axis asked, breathing hard in his attempt to keep up with the Ferryman.

"It is the sound and the light of the Star Gate," Orr replied. "Come."

The next moment they stepped through into the Chamber of the Star Gate.

Axis was as awe-struck as Faraday had been. The Chamber was exquisitely beautiful. And whereas Faraday had thought it resembled the Chamber of the Moons in the palace at Carlon, Axis knew instantly that the Icarii Assembly Chamber had been modelled on the Chamber of the Star Gate. Perfectly circular, it was surrounded by pillars and archways. Each pillar was carved from translucent white stone in the shape of a naked winged man. Most of the winged men stood with their heads bowed and arms folded across their chests, their wings outstretched to touch those of their neighbours, thus forming the apex of the archways. But Axis noticed that an entire section of pillars across the far side of the chamber were different. These winged men had their heads up and their eyes wide open, their golden orbs staring towards the centre of the chamber, their arms uplifted in joy with their wings.

"They represent the twenty-six Enchanter-Talons who were buried above in the Barrows," the Ferryman said, and Axis abruptly realised they were directly below the Ancient Barrows where Gorgrael's storm had killed so many of his men. And where he had lost Faraday.

Orr moved forwards, gesturing for Axis to follow. What appeared to be a circular pool, surrounded by a low rim, occupied the centre of the Chamber, above it blue shadows chased each other across the domed ceiling. Both the pulsing blue light and the sound of the gale emanated from that pool. As he peered into the Star Gate Axis observed, as had Faraday, that it was the gateway into the universe. The real universe, not the poor imitation that lit the night skies. The sound of the Star Dance was strong here, and Axis could see why.

Stars reeled and danced, suns chased each other across entire galaxies, moons dipped and swayed through planetary systems, luminous comets threaded through the cosmos.

Its beauty was unimaginable, its allure almost irresistible. The Star Dance called to Axis, pleaded with him, begged him. It wanted a lover, and it had chosen Axis. Come! it pleaded, Come! Step through the Gate. Come to me!

"Resist the call," Orr whispered. "Resist." Hardening himself against the lure of the Star Dance, Axis let the beauty of the universe wash through him. The colours amazed him; when he looked into the night sky from the OverWorld all he could see were the silvery stars, sometimes touched with a hint of gold or red. But as he gazed into the Star Gate Axis could see entire galaxies of emerald or gold or lilac, solar systems of cornflower and crimson, while the colours of individual stars were every imaginable shade of the rainbow.

"When you stand in the outer world and look at the night sky," Orr explained, "you look at the universe through a veil of air and wind and indistinct cloud and sound. To see the true universe you must either die, or stand at the lip of the Star Gate."

They stared into the Star Gate for an indeterminate length of time, until finally Axis shuddered and turned away. The call of the Star Dance was becoming too much to bear. If he did not step back now he might well be unable to resist.

Axis stared about the Chamber, then he wandered past the first of the twenty-six Enchanter-Talon statues, all obviously the work of master craftsmen.

Axis could not resist the urge to reach out and gently touch the fourth statue he passed. The stone felt cold and unforgiving beneath his fingers.

"Do not do that, Axis," Orr said. "It is disrespectful of those gone to touch their statues."

"They are dead and long gone, Orr. I do not think they will mind. Besides,"

he had reached the eighth in the line and ran his hand over its outstretched wings, "I will one day stand among them."

"Axis." Orr's tone was firmer now. "There is a longstanding tradition that to touch these statues is bad luck, and I think you should stand back."

Axis reached the ninth and touched it briefly, ready to stop, but instead of his fingers feeling cold hard stone, they went straight through the statue.

Axis gasped in shock and stepped back, then leaned forward and tentatively touched the statue again. It shimmered, wavered, then disappeared entirely, and Axis and Orr were left staring at nothingness.

"It was an illusion," Orr finally managed to say. "An illusion!"

Axis dropped his hand. "What does this mean, Orr?"

Orr wrapped the cloak about himself protectively. "I never thought to see this," he whispered. "Never." "See what?" Axis snapped.

"The ninth of the Enchanter-Talons has returned," Orr said in a very weak voice. "WolfStar SunSoar has come back through the Gate."

Axis took a shocked breath. "When?" "I do not know," Orr said. "He died some four thousand years ago, but he could have come back at any time since then."

"Is he the SunSoar Enchanter who trained me? Who trained Gorgrael?"

"He could be wearing any disguise," said Orr. "Any at all. A babe, an aged man, a pretty young woman. WolfStar was already powerful when he died and went through the Star Gate. If he had the power to come back then he is now powerful beyond imagination."

"But why, Orr? Why did he come back? Why hasn't he revealed himself?" Orr shrugged.

Axis quickly ran his hand over the remaining statues. All were solid. He turned back to Orr. "Where could he be?"

Orr laughed harshly. "I wish I knew, Axis SunSoar, because then I would know the safest place to hide." "Why say that?" Axis could not hide his concern.

"Because WolfStar was a terrible, terrible Enchanter-Talon. His power was virulent]" Orr said, "He was so horrifying that he was eventually murdered by his own brother."

Virulent? Axis thought to himself, remembering how loath MorningStar and StarDrifter were to talk of their ancestor.

"Who is more terrible, Orr, WolfStar or Gorgrael?" Orr replied without hesitation. "WolfStar has the potential to be far more terrible, Axis."

"But why would WolfStar train us both?" Axis said.

"Why?"

"Because he is already manipulating both of you, Axis.

For whatever foul purpose he has."

But what purpose? Orr asked himself. Revenge? Is that why WolfStar has come back to haunt us?

"Orr," Axis asked, "what is the connection between WolfStar and the Prophecy of the Destroyer? If WolfStar is manipulating both Gorgrael and myself, then is he also manipulating the Prophecy? Or is he being manipulated by the Prophecy?"

Is WolfStar the traitor the third verse of the Prophecy warns me about? Axis wondered.

"Orr, this is news that I must take back to MorningStar and StarDrifter.

Perhaps, somehow, we can discover where he is. Why he has come back. But there is one more thing I must do within the waterways. One more thing. I made a promise." "What?"

"I must return FreeFall SunSoar from the dead," Axis said, staring the Ferryman in the eyes. "And you are going to help me."

Gorgrael Makes a New FriendGorgrael

stared at the frozen grey sludge. It was the remains of the SkraeBold Belial had killed outside Gorkenfort and Gorgrael was determined to do something with it.

He had his Skraelings and he had his IceWorms, but Gorgrael wanted to create something special for his drive south. He was rapidly building his forces for the winter push south through Jervois Landing, or even, perhaps, the WildDog Plains.

What Gorgrael wanted was something that could fly. Something that would turn Axis' face grey with worry. Something that could destroy the Icarii in the air.

Now, let me see, Gorgrael thought, surveying the grey matter before him.

Dragons? When he was but a child, his Skraeling nursemaids had whispered stories to him about great dragons that had once flown the sky. Beautiful dragons, vicious dragons, dragons that had carried off creatures as large as whales. But dragons were too gaudy, and far too large to make from what he had before him.

What, then? Gorgrael shifted from foot to foot, his claws clicking sharply on the floor.

"Gorgrael," the loved voice said behind him.

"Dear Man!" he cried in delight. Two visits in such quick succession — he was blessed!

The Dark Man emerged from a darkened corner unlit by the failing fire, his heavily cowled head and figure almost indistinguishable from the shadows about him.

"You are going to recreate?" the Dark Man asked.

"Yes," Gorgrael said, and indicated the grey sludge in front of him. "It was the SkraeBold who failed me. I had thought to cast his remains to the crows, but that —"

"Would have been a waste of such good building material," the Dark Man finished thoughtfully.

"Precisely," Gorgrael said, suppressing the edge of triumph in his voice.

"And what did you think you would make from this, Gorgrael?" the Dark Man asked. "What creature would you make to work your will?"

Gorgrael couldn't answer. He glared at the grey sludge as if it were at fault in this.

"Demon-winged," the Dark Man suggested, sliding his gloved hands into the deep sleeves of his cloak.

"Demon-winged," Gorgrael repeated. Yes, that was good.

"Ogre-bellied." Now the Dark Man's voice was louder.

"Ogre-bellied." Gorgrael nodded. "Yes. Yes, I like that."

"Grave-jawed."

"What creature is this, Dear Man?"

The Dear Man tipped his head to one side and regarded his protege. "Can you not yet recognise it, Gorgrael?"

Gorgrael shook his head in frustration.

"Dragon-clawed," the Dark Man prompted.

A dim memory of ancient nightmares stirred. "Blight-eyed!" Gorgrael cried.

Underneath his cowl the Dark Man smiled. "It will cry with the voice of despair."

"Gryphon!" Gorgrael shrieked, triumphantly.

They waited, each on edge, unsure of how their enchantments had worked.

The Gryphon was to be a creature that could thrive, not only in the snow and ice of GorgraeFs homeland, but in the warmer climes of southern Achar. It would have to soar in the air thermals above Grail Lake, and penetrate to the very heart of Axis' command. It would be a creature brave and committed, single-purposed.

"You will be my vanguard," Gorgrael said. "My herald. Your voice shall be mine, and it shall be the voice that the forces of the StarMan shall hear as they die. Despair."

The working of the Gryphon had been fraught with worry. The Song of Recreation was hard and dangerous when worked with the Dark Music. The power of the Dance of Death had flooded through both Gorgrael and the Dark Man as they wrestled with the Song. But the Dark Man, Dear Man, was a master, and he had managed to control the Dark Music as it threatened to rope out of control through their bodies and about the room.

They had both sung, both waited as the grey sludge firmed and warmed and writhed beneath their touch. As the Song had wound to a close, Gorgrael, almost in ecstasy, plunged his hands into the all-but-dead fire in the fireplace and seized two coals, still smouldering bright. Ignoring his own burning flesh Gorgrael had carried the coals to the writhing grey sludge on the floor and plunged them deep into its mass. As he withdrew his clawed hands the Song finally died, and the Dear Man pulled him back a safe distance.

"Now we must wait, Gorgrael," he said. The grey sludge darkened, became even more ill-defined, until Gorgrael could see only a quivering, black mound that absorbed what little light the room held. Deep within glowed two spots of red. Every so often it jerked, and every time it jerked it doubled its size. Soon both the Dark Man and Gorgrael had to step back to avoid being absorbed by the growing creature.

"Something is wrong," Gorgrael suddenly hissed. "We did not sing the appropriate music. We missed a phrase, a beat.

We did not twist enough power through for a successful making."

"Patience, Gorgrael!" the Dark Man barked. "You were ever too impatient!"

Gorgrael subsided at the criticism, his contorted face coiling into a frown, wondering if it was past time he asserted his own power over the Dark Man.

"Ah!" the Dark Man gasped. "It will be born!"

His moment of rebellion gone, Gorgrael dropped his eyes. The round black mass, now the size of a small boulder, had a dark membrane stretched over it.

Something roiled within, as if it struggled to be free.

A slight perforation suddenly appeared in the membrane and, an instant later, the membrane split down one entire side. A sleek head emerged, twin eyes glowing with the promise of death. It blinked, looked about briefly, then it opened its beak and shrieked with the victory of birth.

It had the head of a massive eagle.

Gorgrael whimpered in glee. They had sung aright!

The creature turned its head and ripped viciously at the rest of the membrane, freeing itself in only three or four movements. It stepped forward, regarding both the Dark Man and Gorgrael curiously, then it sank into a crouch before Gorgrael, resting its head on its front paws in a spontaneous act of submission.

Gorgrael bent down and stroked the Gryphon's gleaming brown head feathers. The Gryphon closed its eyes and grunted with gratification. It knew its master. Gorgrael ran his hands over die rest of its body. From the shoulder blades and spine extended graceful wings, feathered in the same glossy brown of its head. But the Gryphon's resemblance to a bird stopped with its feathers. It had the muscular body of a great cat, its tawny coat short and thick and designed to stay the claws or arrows of enemies. A long, tufted tail swung behind. It rested on short but thickly muscled legs that ended in massive paws.

At each stroke of Gorgrael's hands, the Gryphon sheathed then unsheathed its dreadful claws. It was, overall, a frightful beast.

The Dark Man was also well pleased with the Gryphon, and, indeed, with Gorgrael. Gorgrael had worked hard $o rebuild his forces, and even now the Dark Man knew that the Skraelings and the IceWorms, under the leadership of SkraeBolds determined not to fail their master again, massed just south and west of Hsingard. It would not be long before an offensive could begin again.

No stranger to death himself, the Dark Man looked forward to the fighting and the slaughter that would ensue. It gave him satisfaction.

"Gorgrael, my friend. I wove something extra into the Song of Recreation.

Thrust a little more meaning into the Dark Music as we folded and directed it to our purpose. Gorgrael, the Gryphon is female. Feel her belly."

Gorgrael slid his clawed hands either side of the Gryphon's body and felt her belly. He frowned.

"My friend. The Gryphon draws close to birthing nine pups, exact replicas of herself. In a day or so, perhaps less, you will have ten of the creatures. In a few months, as they grow and mature, you will have a pack to rival no other. And the nine will breed as well, Gorgrael. All will be born female - and all will be born pregnant."

The Dark Man thought he had done well. He thought he had woven the music of the Gryphon's making so that the breeding would stop when the nine whelped. Unfortunately, he was wrong.

"She will be a good creature. Obedient, like the best hound," the Dear Man said, stepping back. "But deadlier, far deadlier."

Gorgrael stroked the Gryphon for a moment longer, then abruptly strode over to his chair by the fire. "Come," he said, and snapped his fingers.

The Gryphon rose obediently and padded over to the chair, sinking down at Gorgrael's feet. Gorgrael looked back to the Dear Man with shining eyes. "Will you sit with me a moment?" he inquired, indicating the empty chair across the other side of the hearth.

"A moment only, Gorgrael. I am required elsewhere shortly." The Dark Man sat in the empty chair, and waved his hand impatiently at the fire so that it flared bright.

Where else shortly? Gorgrael thought to himself. He had never discovered where the Dark Man lived, how he lived, in what form he lived, once he left Gorgrael's presence. Perhaps he simply faded into nothingness until he was required again.

The Dark Man grunted in amusement. "Oh, I live elsewhere, Gorgrael. I have work to do, tasks to perform, music to sing."

"Have you heard of Axis lately, Dear Man?" Gorgrael asked. "How goes my brother?"

"I have not seen him, heard of him, for some time," the Dark Man finally said. "It is as if he has disappeared from creation." He grinned underneath his hood.

"Dead?" Gorgrael asked, although the thought caused him disappointment.

He looked forward to tearing his brother into shreds.

The Dark Man laughed. "No, not dead, Gorgrael. Very much alive — his death I would have felt... as would you. But I do have news of Borneheld...and Faraday."

Gorgrael sat up. "What?"

"Borneheld is now King," the Dark Man said reflectively. "It is said that Priam died a crazed death. And if Borneheld is King in Carlon, then Faraday sits by his side as Queen. A tastier morsel than ever now, Gorgrael, a much tastier morsel."

"Tastier," Gorgrael echoed, his thoughts on the woman so far to the south.

Queen. Faraday.

The Strike Force LandsThe last of the Icarii

hound for Sigholt left Talon Spike on the third to last day of DeadLeaf-month.

The Crests and Wings of the Strike Force had been gone some ten days and the last of them would have arrived in Sigholt. Small groups of Enchanters had left each day since.

The final group included MorningStar and StarDrifter. RavenCrest was reluctant to leave the security of Talon Spike for an unknown world; until Axis had won Tencendor back the majority of the Icarii would stay in Talon Spike. As he stood on the flight balcony watching his mother and brother disappear over the southern Icescarp Alps, RavenCrest had to fight a wave of depression from swamping him. The fate of the Icarii had been taken from his hands. Was this the beginning of their long-hoped-for pilgrimage back to their homelands or a journey towards the death of all their dreams? "By the Stars, Axis," said RavenCrest, the wind ruffling his black neck feathers, "do not squander the hopes of the Icarii in your battles with Borneheld and Gorgrael. You promised to lead us back into Tencendor. Make sure you do it."

No-one who had just left Talon Spike missed the significance of their flight south. For the first time in a thousand years the Icarii flew for Tencendor rather than just winging their way about the Icescarp Alps or the Avarinheim. None thought the path would be easy, and all understood that some would die in the attempt. But Icarii spirit had been rekindled. They were finally taking active steps

to regain their heritage.

Several hours after they left Talon Spike the group found a thermal which lifted them high into the atmosphere, and for more than an hour they spiralled upwards, only very slowly moving south. The view was stunning. Far below, the Icescarp Alps ridged and plunged their way south towards the Icescarp Barren and east towards the Avarinheim forest. To the east the Widowmaker Sea glinted in sunlight. As she tilted a little in the thermal MorningStar caught a glimpse of the Nordra, silver from this height, as it wound its serpentine way through the Avarinheim. The river was a life-giver, both to the Avarinheim and to the bare plains of Achar, and the Avar worshipped the Nordra almost as fervently as the sacred Earth Tree. MorningStar smiled a little as she half closed her eyes against the glare of the sun. How fortunate that Gorgrael's clouds did not cover the Avarinheim. The forest canopy waved green and black, almost like a sea itself, and Morning-Star hoped that she would live long enough to see the first trees replanted in the plains beyond the Fortress Ranges.

Above her, StarDrifter waved the group further east. The flight would take three or four days and they would rest each night within the Avarinheim. The Avar had established three camps just inside the protecting walls of the Fortress Ranges, keeping the Icarii who used them supplied with food and fire at night.

Willing enough to help the Icarii, the Avar waited for Faraday before they would actively move to help Axis.

As they flew further south, MorningStar remembered her mother speaking of the sacred sites lost to the Icarii. Would she live to see Fernbrake Lake, the Mother, and the Island of Mist and Memory? She let herself dream a little, hope a little.

Azhure approached the circle of Icarii and Acharite warriors quietly, so as not to disturb them, especially those who

fought in the centre. The majority of the Icarii Strike Force had been here almost three weeks now, and their intensive combat training with Belial s soldiers continued apace.

FarSight CutSpur, true to his word to Axis, had surrendered the Strike Force to Belial's overall control. He had no regrets in doing so. Any decision Belial took regarding the Icarii he made sure to discuss with FarSight and his Crest-Leaders.

Indeed, FarSight and his two senior Crest-Leaders — HoverEye Black Wing and SpreadWing RavenCry - had been included in Belial s inner circle on an equal footing with Magariz, Arne and Azhure. FarSight respected Belial greatly. He was a good man, and a capable commander; Axis had chosen well in his second-in-command.

The Icarii had been dismayed by their lack of combat skills when compared to the Groundwalkers, despite Axis' earlier warning. Over the past three weeks they had done almost nothing but work on their hand-to-hand skills with Belial's soldiers. To begin with, the Groundwalkers had been able to best the Icarii easily, and many an Icarii Strike Force member had spent long hours of the night rubbing soothing salve into abrasions and bruises or soaking in the rejuvenating hot waters of the Lake of Life. But, driven by their deep-seated pride, the Icarii had learned quickly. In fact, so determined were they to put a stop to their embarrassing losses, that over the past few days a growing number of Icarii had come out victorious from their combat bouts with Belial's men. SpikeFeather, in particular, had earned their respect.

Azhure crept around the edge of the circle of watching warriors until a gap appeared in the tightly packed bodies. She shouldered her way through.

EvenSong was battling with a soldier from Arne's unit, a brawny, ginger-haired, experienced campaigner from Aldeni called Edowes. The Acharite soldiers had quickly learned that the female members of the Icarii Strike Force were just as determined as the male. Now, as the two grappled in the centre of the circle, it was obvious that Edowes was giving no quarter.

Ever since SpikeFeather had shamed her in front of Azhure and the other members of her Wing, EvenSong had put all her efforts into becoming an asset to the Strike Force. Today was the first time she felt she had a good chance of besting her practice partner, but the actual "kill" was proving frustratingly difficult.

Azhure glanced about the circle. Arne stood to one side, his arms folded, his posture relaxed, his emotions hidden behind his usual expressionless mask. Only the jerky movements of the twig he was chewing showed he felt any concern about the outcome of this bout. A few paces from him stood SpikeFeather TrueSong, commander of Even-Song's Wing. His wings were held tense and tight against his back, and his fingers convulsively flexed at his side, as if he wanted to leap into the ring and help EvenSong.

EvenSong and Edowes both wore light armour, but both had collected more than their fair share of bruises during the bout. Suddenly EvenSong grunted and fell to her knees, caught by a particularly heavy blow to the ribs by Edowes, her stave slipping from her fingers. Azhure s stomach twisted, and she only just managed to stop herself from leaping forward and pulling Edowes back.

Edowes raised his stave to shoulder height for the final blow. But he had badly misjudged his opponent. EvenSong's fingers tightened and shifted on the stave and, her face twisting with determination, she brought the stave upwards with all her might. Straight between Edowes' legs.

Every male within the circle of watchers whimpered in sympathy as they heard the sickening crunch. Edowes howled, dropping his stave and falling to the ground, clutching at his abused manhood.

Azhure clapped to her mouth to hide her grin, and her eyes met those of a jubilant EvenSong. The Icarii wqman's eyes glittered with pride, and she did not look the least bit sorry that she had destroyed Edowes' hopes of enjoying the young Skarabost woman he had been courting for several weeks to come.

SpikeFeather slapped EvenSong on the back before offering her his hand. "I am heartily glad you never thought of that manoeuvre while practising with me, EvenSong," he laughed. He turned to Arne. "You owe me a jug of Reinalds spiced wine, I believe, Arne. I look forward to enjoying it with my evening meal."

As the watchers gradually dissipated, Azhure and Even-Song walked slowly across the practice field bordering the Lake of Life. The Keep glistened silvery grey in the sun, for the warmth of the Lake of Life kept Sigholt and its immediate environs free of Gorgrael's clouds.

"Well done," Azhure congratulated EvenSong. "Did you notice how all the men blanched as you struck home?"

EvenSong laughed breathlessly, still winded after her exertions. "I hope I have not wounded him permanently."

"Oh, I am sure he will recover to father his share of children," Azhure said lightly. Azhure was now well into her pregnancy and her abdomen protruded gently beneath her tunic. Belial had forbidden her to take part in hand-to-hand combat sessions, although Azhure still trained with her archers - six squads now, over two hundred men - and occasionally went out on patrol. She had returned only last night from leading a four-day patrol into the northern Urqhart Hills.

Azhure was well respected among both Icarii and Acharites, and only rarely was her womanhood or her pregnancy commented upon.

As Azhure lapsed into silence, EvenSong sensed there was something troubling her and slid her arm about Azhure's shoulders. "What is it?" she asked.

Azhure took a deep and shaky breath, placing both her hands over her belly.

"The baby has hardly moved, EvenSong.

Sometimes I lie a-bed at night and all I feel is this weight in my belly, and I wonder if the baby is still alive. I should have felt it move weeks ago."

"You are a silly!" EvenSong laughed, relieved. "If you had asked either Rivkah or myself we could have told you what the problem is."

Azhure stopped. "You know what's wrong?"

"Azhure. The child you carry is part Icarii. All Icarii babes sleep in the womb until their father awakens them. Azhure, your baby is perfectly all right - awake or not, it will grow and develop normally. Once Axis arrives he can awaken it.

Apparently it is the most exquisite feeling, to feel the babe awaken at the sound of its father's voice."

Azhure s shoulders relaxed under EvenSong's arm. "I was so worried," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "I thought that perhaps I had harmed it."

A frown creased her forehead again. "But already I am five months pregnant.

When should Icarii fathers sing to their children? Is it too late? And what if Axis doesn't arrive before it is born?"

"Azhure, calm down," EvenSong said. "It is best that Axis be here for the baby's birth. But it has been known for a baby to be born without being awakened by its father, and even then, the baby was perfectly normal."

Azhure's shoulders relaxed totally and she dropped her hands from her belly.

Embarrassed by her show of vulnerability, she turned the conversation to combat and commands. "How are the Icarii coping with their quarters?" No-one had been too sure what the Icarii - used to the luxury of Talon Spike - would think of the tents they were housed in.

"The Icarii would sleep wrapped in their wings on the cold ground if they thought it was needed to win themselves Tencendor again," EvenSong reassured her. "We are fine. Do not worry about us."

The other worry Azhure, Belial and Magariz had harboured was the reception of the Icarii by the Skarabost villagers at Sigholt. But this had proved no problem at all. For the Acharites camped in tents and rudimentary huts about the shores of the Lake of Life, the arrival of the magical Icarii simply reinforced their belief that they had done the right thing in following the call of the Prophecy.

Obviously the StarMan, if not actually here himself yet, would prove a hero of legend if these mythical creatures had left their mountain home to follow him.

The teachings of the Seneschal seemed to be rapidly fading from their minds.

Dominating everyone's thoughts was the anxious wait for Axis. Azhure, though sure she had made the right decision in refusing Belial s proposal, increasingly worried about what she could expect from Axis. She still sometimes had the lingering fear that he would take the baby from her and give it to Faraday. Although consciously she realised it was a groundless fear - Axis would never do such a thing - at night it sometimes caused her nightmares.

"Azhure!" EvenSong cried at her side. "Look! My father and grandmother arrive!"

Azhure squinted in the direction EvenSong pointed, but she could see nothing save some black spots in the clouds far to the north.

"Come," EvenSong caught at Azhure's arm and dragged her around the moat of Sigholt towards the bridge, "they'll land on the roof. Come! Hurry!"

Magariz had been alerted to the Icarii arrival and now stood on the roof of the Keep. He heard a movement behind him and Rivkah stepped to his side. He smiled at her, delighted. He remembered how beautiful she had been as a teenager in Carlon. Then her hair was deep auburn, her face always mischievous, always alive with humour and love of life.

That had been before her father had arranged her marriage to Searlas, Duke of Ichtar, which had almost broken Rivkah s spirit. Still handsome more than thirty years on, Rivkah was more introspective. Her humour was still there, but more restrained. How strange, thought Magariz, that they should be here now in these circumstances.

Busy as both were, Magariz had not yet had a chance to speak to Rivkah privately since her arrival at Sigholt.

Now Rivkah noticed him looking at her. She reached out and touched his hand where it lay on the grey stonework.

Magariz turned his eyes back to the approaching Icarii. Among them would be Rivkah's former husband, the man for whom she had betrayed Searlas.

"Did he ever know?" Magariz asked very quietly, so that the other Icarii waiting on the roof might not hear. He was not referring to StarDrifter but to Searlas, Rivkah's previous husband.

"No," Rivkah whispered. "No. He never suspected."

Magariz's hands relaxed on the stones. "I worried for you," he said, and tears sprang to Rivkah's eyes.

"And I for you." She blinked back her tears and noticed FarSight had just arrived on the roof. "I am glad this will be the last flight for a while," Rivkah said brightly, "for I do not know where we would have put any more. As it is, we shall have to share apartments."

FarSight's perceptive black eyes picked up Rivkah's discomposure, but assumed it was because StarDrifter was arriving. It must be hard for them, he surmised, to be constantly thrown together this way before they have learned to rebuild their lives apart.

As the approaching Icarii closed, the bridge threw out her challenge. All of the Acharites had been stunned to learn that the bridge not only challenged those on foot, but also those who approached Sigholt from the air. "What would she do if one of the approaching Icarii failed the test?" Belial had asked Veremund when he heard the bridge challenge the first Icarii flight. "Well, Belial," Veremund had answered, "if any fail the test then I guess we will find out, won't we?"

But none had ever failed the test, and none failed now. StarDrifter, his mother and the other Icarii with them landed on the roof of Sigholt, all obviously excited by the Lake and the change in the Keep.

"It's wondrous!" MorningStar cried, as she kissed Rivkah in welcome. "It is so beautiful!" Indeed, in the months since the Lake had refilled, the greenery had spread over all the hills closest to Sigholt, and the Keep and its environs were like an oasis. Now tree ferns as tall as a man grew down most of the closest slopes, and flowers, creeping shrubs, wild roses and gorse bushes covered the hills further away. Sigholt was turning into a garden.

"One day all Tencendor will reawaken like this," said StarDrifter, his eyes on Rivkah. As they kissed briefly, dispassionately, both could not help but remember those days when it seemed as if the world were theirs.

Magariz's mouth twisted as he watched StarDrifter greet Rivkah, then he stepped forward to formally welcome the Icarii. So this was the Icarii Enchanter who had stolen Rivkah from Searlas, and now, so carelessly, had let go. Well, you ageing fool, he thought, you let her go thirty-two years ago. Do not think to criticise StarDrifter for failings you are guilty of yourself.

Magariz's courtly greeting and gracious manners impressed the Icarii, and StarDrifter wondered - as so many others had - how this man had come to serve Borneheld for so long.

As Rivkah started to explain the increasingly crowded living arrangements in Sigholt, EvenSong burst through the staircase doorway, dragging Azhure with her.

"Father!" she cried, delighted, and StarDrifter stepped forward to hug her.

EvenSong looked happier than he had seen her at any time since FreeFall's death. "Greet your grandmother," he said, his eyes hunting Azhure. He had not ceased thinking about her in the months they had been apart. The instant he saw her the world stilled about him.

"Welcome, StarDrifter," Azhure said awkwardly, aware of StarDrifter's face as he stared at her rounded stomach.

Rivkah stepped forward and took StarDrifter by the elbow. "Look, StarDrifter, isn't it wonderful?" she exclaimed, a little too artificially. "Azhure and Axis are going to make us grandparents."

MorningStar brushed past them. "Well," she said, her voice studiously casual, "a Beltide baby, StarDrifter. What do you make of that?"

She reached out for Azhure s arm, but Azhure took several rapid steps backwards. She knew the ancient tradition of both Icarii and Avar peoples — a baby conceived of Wing and Horn at Beltide should never be carried to term.

One year an Avar woman had ignored that ancient tradition, and the baby she had conceived with StarDrifter was Gorgrael.

"I am not Avar!" Azhure said, determined to fight for her baby's life if she had to. "Do not try to take this baby from me!"