Leagh could not control the skidding of her heart, nor the sudden cramp in her chest that made each breath a painful effort. Calm down! she berated herself, but it did not help. Zared was only moments away, and it had been so long since she'd seen him.
     Drago did not say a word as he led her down the corridors and stairwells of Sigholt. Leagh leaned on him without embarrassment - without him, she thought, she could not walk - and Drago made no complaint.
     It was late afternoon, and the Keep threw a deep shadow over the courtyard. Leagh stumbled slightly as she and Drago walked outside, and he tightened his arm and drew her in a little closer.
     "Hope," she thought she heard him say, but when she glanced at his face it was expressionless, his eyes elsewhere, and so she thought she had imagined it.
     There were several ranks of soldiers lined up in the courtyard, their hands ready on the hilts of their swords to provide a welcoming salute. Caelum, dressed all in black, walked forward to greet her.
     Askam was two or three steps behind.
     Leagh saw Caelum exchange a hard glance with Drago, and she felt Drago stiffen at her side, but she had no time for further observation of the brothers' enmity.
     "Zared?" she asked Caelum, and was stunned to hear her voice come out cool. Calm, even.
     "A minute away," Caelum said. "No more." And, indeed, at that moment Leagh heard the bridge call out to Zared, welcoming him. The bridge did not challenge him, for Zared had been born within Sigholt's walls, and she knew him well.
     Almost before the bridge had finished her greeting there came the clatter of many hooves on the bridge, and Leagh had a moment of panic.
     Gods, what was she wearing? A pale blue linen gown that could be called serviceable, nothing more. And her hair! Leagh's free hand patted at her head, remembering with horror that this morning she'd left her hair in nothing but a single thick braid down her back.
     "Leagh," Zenith's soft voice said behind her, "you look lovely. Do not fret."
     I should be greeting Zared in the audience chamber of our palace in Carlon, Leagh thought, resplendent in satins and jewels, not here in this dairymaid's gown - and she had no more time for thought, for at that moment Zared rode into the courtyard.
     She was the first thing he saw. Absolutely stunned, Zared pulled his horse to such a sudden, skittery halt that Herme and Theod, who rode directly behind him, had to rein their own mounts sharply to one side to avoid him.
     "Leagh?" he whispered.
     At that precise moment the ranked soldiers presented their swords and standards, and a trio of trumpeters high in Sigholt's walls blew out a clarion of welcome.
     In the sudden presentation of arms, and the flags and banners fluttering about, Zared lost sight of Leagh.
     Frustrated, he leaped from his horse, ducked under its neck… and came face to face with an impassive StarSon Caelum.
     "Prince Zared, I welcome you to Sigholt. May its doors always swing wide to greet you, and its bridge always sing you a greeting."
     Damn these polite receptions! Zared cursed. He tried to see past Caelum, but he only saw Askam further back in the gloom, and the first of the ranks of stony-faced soldiers.
     "I thank you, StarSon," he replied evenly. "I, as must my other companions among the Five, find myself somewhat surprised to be so suddenly called to Council."
     "You know why you are here," Caelum said, his voice toneless, and Zared wondered how long Askam had been in Sigholt, and what he'd managed to whisper into Caelum's ear. While not as close as their fathers had been, Caelum and Askam were nevertheless friends. "This disunity between you and Askam must finally be put to rest."
     Askam had whispered nothing complimentary, Zared thought. "Then I welcome the summons, StarSon. I wish for nothing more than peace and harmony within Tencendor."
     Caelum's eyes had slipped behind Zared. "Herme? Theod? Why do you travel with Zared?"
     "We met the Prince of the North coming through the lower Urqhart Hills," Herme said easily, "and chose to ride the final leagues with him. Theod and myself thought to have our voices heard at this Council, as the weighty matter before it affects all those living in the West. As in the North."
     Far back in the column of Zared's escort, Goldman and Heavorand pulled their hoods a little closer over their faces. No doubt Caelum's enchanted eyesight could spot them if he chose, but they did not want Askam to see them. Their business was best conducted without their Prince knowing they were at Sigholt.
     "Who gave you permission to attend this Council?" Askam stepped forward to Caelum's shoulder. "Theod? You should be at home, attending your seasonal county courts. Herme? You should know better than to present your uninvited self at Sigholt!"
     Theod was lost for words, but Herme replied smoothly. "I did not realise our freedom of movement - our choice of movement - was also subject to your whim, Sir Prince."
     "Enough!" Caelum snapped. Truly, Theod and Herme should have known better than to ride in with Zared as if he were their prince, not Askam! But Herme had also made a telling point, and Caelum did not regret the chance to hear from someone other than Askam how the West was responding to the taxes.
     "You may stay, Sir Duke and Sir Earl," he said, his tone more even now. "I shall organise an afternoon to speak with you, but I also reserve the right to invite you or bar you from Council as I please."
     He turned slightly and called to his steward. "Runton? Prepare chambers suitable for the Duke and Earl. Zared, perhaps you might like to dine with me tonight?"
     Zared ignored his invitation. "Caelum," he said softly. "What is Leagh doing here?"
     Caelum stared at him a moment, then waved Leagh forward.
     She hesitated, and the man at her side - Zared noticed with some surprise who it was - spoke softly in her ear. Leagh gave the smallest of nods, and then walked forward calmly to stand at Caelum's side.
     "Zared," she said simply, her eyes fixed on his.
     Zared opened his mouth, found he could say nothing, and so stepped forward, took her hand, and kissed her palm.
     "I think we will resolve many things in Council," Caelum said softly. "Not only the issue of taxes."
     The evening meal, held with due pomp in the Great Hall of Sigholt, was the longest Zared had ever endured in his life. All the heads of the Five were there, as were their captains, their lieutenants, Caelum's brother and sisters, DareWing FullHeart and the other Crest-Leaders of the Strike Force, the mayor and entire council of Lakesview, their wives, as well as WingRidge CurlClaw, SpikeFeather TrueSong and fifteen assorted Enchanters.
     Leagh… Leagh was seated not only across the broad banquet table, but seven places down! Zared had not the chance to speak one word to her, let alone touch her, hold her.
     If the decision on their marriage was to be discussed -and then determined - in Council, then Zared knew what that decision would be. Damn Caelum - and every other member of the Council - to everlasting crippling arthritis for what they were going to do to him and Leagh! Did they not bed as they chose? Had not every one of them picked their own mate… save Caelum, of course, who yet lingered unmarried.
     Zared went through the meal in a state resembling an angry fugue, replying only in monosyllables when he was addressed, pushing his meat about his plate until it went cold and congealed in its gravy, then tapping his fingers irritably against the linen-clothed table until Caelum finally rose and departed.
     As the rest of the company scraped back chairs and got to their feet, Zared managed to catch Leagh's eye, but no more. Askam placed a tight hand about her elbow and whisked her away before Zared could slip about the table to speak to her.
     He stood, fuming with silent rage; as Herme paused behind him.
     "Think how marriage to her would cement your claim to the throne, my prince," he whispered. "Askam will never sire an heir. She would bring Achar to your marriage bed."
     Zared turned to stare at Herme, a muscle working in his cheek. "I want her as my wife because I love her!" he finally seethed. "Not for her inheritance!"
     He pushed past the Earl of Avonsdale and strode away, but all he could think about on the long walk back to his chambers was whether or not, on that night atop Sigholt five years ago, his unspeaking mind had only seen Leagh standing before him… or the rich acres of the West as well.
     Zenith was preparing for sleep when the gentle knock came at her door. Surprised, not knowing who could wish to speak with her this late, she slipped a wrap over her shoulders and opened the door.
     Zared stood there, his face lined and tired, his eyes dark with unreadable emotion. "Zenith, you and I have always understood each other. Please, bring Leagh to me."
     Zenith stared at him, her mind in turmoil. By the gods, how she felt for both of them! Surely they deserved at least a private word - but, if left in private, how far might that "word" go? Their love was fraught with so much political tension, it carried such enormous consequences, that to even let them see each other…
     Should she tell him that Caelum would not let the marriage take place? That there was no hope? No, there was no need. She could see by the pain in Zared's eyes* that he already understood.
     "Zenith," he said, reaching out and placing a hand on her arm. "Do this for me, and do it for Leagh."
     Zenith hesitated only a heartbeat longer, then she gave a curt nod. "Come with me." -
     The corridors were darkened, only a few subdued torches lit to cast pitiful pools of light in isolated corners. Shadows flickered and lifted, seeming to envelop them in waves and then retreat, as if they had moved too far from the total darkness for their own comfort. Zenith led Zared to a room on the floor above his, at the end of the corridor.
     He stopped, surprised. "This was my mother's chamber!"
     "And so here came Magariz to Rivkah, before they confessed their love to the world. Now, Zared, listen to me. I will wait outside. Keeping watch - but not only for those who might tread this way. I can also sense you, and what you do… do you understand?"
     Zared nodded, his expression bitter.
     "If you try to bed with her," Zenith continued, her tone now as hard as Zared's eyes, "I will know and I will stop you. You may speak with her, you may hold her, but you will not have the chance to win the West via the trickery of an illegitimate child!"
     "Caelum has an utterly loyal sister in you!" Zared hissed, furious that Zenith would intrude upon them with her power.
     "I am utterly loyal to Tencendor," Zenith said quietly, holding Zared's stare. "Treat Leagh with the respect that I have for the peace of our land."
     "Let me in, damn you!"
     And Zenith opened the door.
     The chamber was even darker than the corridor, for Leagh "had apparently shuttered her windows tightly closed. Zared stood, trying to get his bearings, wondering if Leagh had heard his whispered conversation with Zenith.
      Apparently not, for the room was quiet save for the soft sound of gentle breathing, and Zared moved carefully towards the source.
     His hip banged into the corner of a table, and Zared halted, his eyes stinging with the pain, his ears straining to hear if Leagh had woken.
     No, she still breathed deep in sleep across the room, and Zared resumed his movement, now with a slight limp. He'd never wished Enchanter powers for himself until this moment. By all the stars above, he wished he could see where he was going!
     But even as he thought that, a pale bed cover resolved itself from the darkness, and under it Zared could see the still form of Leagh.
     He moved closer - how could he best wake her without startling her into a loud cry? It would hardly do his cause good to have Caelum - or Askam, gods forbid! - burst in on them.
     But even as he hesitatingly reached down a hand, Leagh sighed, turned her head, and opened her eyes.
     "Am I dreaming," she whispered, "or do you truly stand before me, Zared?"
     "Oh, gods, Leagh!" he cried softly, brokenly, and he sat down on the bed and gathered her into his arms.
     Outside, Zenith tensed, but she gradually relaxed, tears coming to her eyes. What would it be like to love like this? To be loved this deeply? She withdrew her presence a little from the chamber to give them more privacy, although she still maintained watch. They could spend the hours before dawn together, but then she would interrupt, and take Zared from Leagh.
     The tears trickled down her cheeks. This was likely to be the only time they would ever have together.
     Then, without warning, a sense of doom so profound it left her gasping washed over her.
     Zenith groaned and bent almost double, clutching at the wall for support.
     What was wrong, what had disturbed her this deeply? Zared and Leagh? No, they were close, but not too close. It was something else. Something… something so fundamentally wrong that the very Star Dance seemed to waver before it beat on as strong as ever.
     The sensation of imminent doom faded almost as soon as it had washed through her, but it left Zenith with a feeling of such fright that she spent the rest of that night crouched outside Leagh's door, wrapped in enchantment so thick that a spear would have bounced off an arm's distance away before it could have touched her.
     Zared, Leagh and Zenith were not the only wakeful ones that night. Caelum also paced the corridors, returning to his own chambers from whatever nocturnal mission he'd set himself to.
     He also felt the sudden alteration in the Star Dance, but Caelum was of infinitely more power than Zenith, and he knew that it had been caused by the sudden intrusion of a powerful Enchanter somewhere in Tencendor.
     There was someone different about. Who?
     Who?
     Caelum stood in the centre of his chamber, seeking, probing through Tencendor with his power… feeling out whoever it was who had so suddenly disturbed the Star Dance.
     He twitched, and an expression of utter horror came over his face.
     "WolfStar!" he whispered, then he tipped back his head and screamed. " WolfStar!"
     And then he vanished.
     Maze Gate In unconscious imitation of the ancient madness of WolfStar SunSoar, the Ferryman stood wrapped in his ruby cloak at the lip of the Star Gate. Even though the Icarü had reclaimed the Star Gate, few visited there except on ceremonial occasions, and Orr was alone in the circular chamber.
     Blue light chased about the dome, and the sound of the universe roared through, demanding, seductive, entreating.
     Orr ignored all of it. "There… again!" he whispered, and trembled. "Again!"
     There was a sound beyond that of the Star Dance, beyond that of the interstellar winds of the universe. A whisper, but a whisper of many voices.
     Maddened voices. Demanding voices.
     Orr shivered. What was it, this ravening pack of voices? Who were they? Why did they cry so?
     What did they want?
     "And again," he said, his hands tightening about his cloak. "Who are they to disturb the peace of the stars so?"
     "They claim to be my judgment, friend Ferryman."
     Orr jumped so badly he almost fell into the Star Gate. A hand closed about his arm, steadying him.
     Orr turned to see who had surprised him, then squealed in terror and stumbled back several paces. "WolfStar!"
     Was anyone safe about the Star Gate with this renegade present!
     "Peace, Ferryman," WolfStar said. "I am not the same madman who cast so many children to their deaths."
     Orr was not so sure. Could four thousand years abate such madness? WolfStar may have assisted Axis SunSoar defeat Gorgrael, but Orr's fear of him was still strong. He carefully backed away yet further.
     WolfStar ignored him and stepped over to the Star Gate. Its pulsing blue light washed over his face, turning his copper curls almost as violet as his eyes. For several minutes he stood silent, tense, then his shoulders relaxed slightly and he gave Orr a small, humourless smile.
     "They call themselves my judgment," he said again, "but they are yet far away. We are safe. They will never find the Star Gate again."
     "They?" Orr said. "They? I hear voices. Many voices. And they are angry voices. There is…" He searched for the right word. "There is a pack of them."
     WolfStar's eyes narrowed. "A 'pack', Ferryman?"
     "They hunt," Orr said very quietly, beginning to understand. "They hunt for you." He was silent briefly, turning a sudden thought over in his mind. "They are those you murdered."
     WolfStar's mouth twisted slightly and he looked back into the Star Gate. "Yes," he said. "They yearn for my blood. And perhaps I do not blame them. But I am safe. They do not have the power or the skills to find their way back through the Star Gate. They will drift for eternity, calling my name."
     He did not seem distressed at the thought of what he'd condemned the children to.
     "I have never heard them before." Orr walked closer to the Star Gate, but he still kept a prudent distance from WolfStar.
     WolfStar shrugged slightly. "They knew I would die eventually, and that - as all Enchanter-Talons - I would step through the Star Gate for my eternal rest. So they drift on the interstellar winds, looking for me. This is the first time they've drifted this close to the Star Gate."
     "But you evaded them before. You stepped back through into this world."
     "Yes, I did. When I died, and then stepped through, the children were in a far part of the universe, utterly lost. Before they drifted back my way I found the knowledge in death that returned me to life."
     That was only a very mild lie on WolfStar's part. In truth, the power that had allowed him to return had actively sought him out.
     Orr accepted WolfStar's words. He had no doubt the Enchanter never wanted to re-encounter the hundreds of children - or his own wife - whom he had hurled to their deaths.
     There was a movement in the shadow of one of the archways that circled the chamber, and both WolfStar and Orr turned towards it.
     Caelum SunSoar, StarSon of Tencendor, stepped into the light. "Well, lonely wolf of the night," he said softly, his gaze fixed on WolfStar, "it has been over forty years since you peered into my cradle and then crushed MorningStar's head for the temerity of witnessing. Forty years for you to work your mischief. I know of you, WolfStar. You can accomplish a great deal in forty years."
     WolfStar sat down on the low wall of the Star Gate, unperturbed by Caelum's abrupt appearance. His golden wings spread out to either side of his body, and he tilted his head, quizzically, looking Caelum up and down. The intervening years have grown a great man, he decided, and power sits him easily.
     And yet WolfStar wondered if Caelum had yet learned the power it would take to best him. He grinned. He doubted it.
     "Well?" Caelum snapped, irritated by WolfStar's demeanour.
     "Well, what?"
     WolfStar!
      All three in the chamber heard it. WolfStar leapt off the wall and across the chamber in a single bound, and Caelum's eyes narrowed. So frightened, WolfStar? Why? Why?
     We're coming, we're coming … we hunger…
     "They're lying," WolfStar said, recovering his poise. "Bluffing. They cannot come through."
     There was a sound in the chamber. Unusual, but rather like… a flock of birds sweeping through the sky.
     Caelum locked eyes with Orr momentarily, sharing knowledge, then turned his gaze back to WolfStar. "And how can you be so sure? If you could step back through, then why can't they?"
     Orr faded back underneath one of the arches. He wanted nothing to do with the confrontation between these two.
     WolfStar stared at Caelum before he answered. "You want answers, StarSon? Then I will give you some. But not here."
     "Not here where they can hear you, WolfStar? What is it that you have brought upon Tencendor now, renegade?"
     Caelum took a step forward, but WolfStar only smiled at the implied threat. No-one could touch him. Except, perhaps…
     "I have a fancy to see my grandchildren and a fancy to see what you have made of Sigholt," he said, forcing his mind away from what else might be accompanying the children.
     We're coming, we're coming … we hunger…
     And pray all gods in creation it is only you who shout my name!
     "WolfStar! I demand answers! Do you think I am going to stand aside while your troubles tear Tencendor apart yet again?"
     "Sigholt!" said WolfStar. "I will meet you and yours at Sigholt."
     "When?"
     "Soon. A day. Wait."
     And then he vanished.
     Caelum took a deep breath. Stars, what was going on? He peered into the Star Gate, becoming one with the Star Dance briefly, then shook himself and looked at Orr, still secreted in the shadows. "Have you heard these voices before?"
     Orr shook his head. "Today was the first time. StarSon, they are not strong, and…"
     "And?"
     "And, perhaps to be expected. WolfStar murdered some two hundred and twelve Enchanters, including StarLaughter and the child she carried. I can well imagine that their souls have drifted four thousand years seeking vengeance. Pray their vengeance is directed only at WolfStar."
     "I shall throw the Enchanter through myself if it will appease their need," Caelum said. "I think I will ask WingRidge to mount a guard here. I would not like us to be… surprised."
     "No need," said the Ferryman. "I shall stand watch."
     WolfStar stood before the gate. The gate to the Maze, not the Star Gate. Its wooden doors were closed - thankfully. WolfStar hoped to be far, far away if ever they opened.
     Did anything else follow those voices towards the Star Gate?
     His hands drifted over the strange inscription in the stone archway surrounding the gate. It had taken him many years to understand this language. The language of the ancients, or the Enemy, as their enemies referred to them.
     The Enemy that had crashed through from the universe so many millennia ago, creating the Star Gate.
     Leaving behind its deadly cargo.
     He silently cursed, and concentrated on the inscription. Yes, there, there and there. StarSon. As it had been for the past forty years. For three thousand years before that the inscription had only mentioned the vague term "Crusader", but a year after the birth of Caelum the Maze had changed its mind and substituted "StarSon" for "Crusader".
     Now the symbol for StarSon trumpeted forth, again, and again, leaping out from the gate's inscription.
     This time the Maze was certain.
     Well might it be. It was the Maze which had taught WolfStar the Prophecy of the Destroyer, and then commanded him to write it down and do all in his power to ensure its eventual realisation. After he defeated Gorgrael, Axis had asked WolfStar if the Prophecy was nothing but idiot gabble for his own amusement. Then WolfStar had hedged. He'd said that certain knowledges had come to him beyond the Star Gate that made his return imperative - true enough. However, it was not the Prophecy itself that had persuaded him back through the Star Gate, but rather the Prophecy's true author. The Maze.
     The Prophecy had a very clear and direct purpose, and it had nothing at all to do with protecting Tencendor from Gorgrael.
     Its only purpose had been to breed the champion the Maze needed. The Crusader.
     WolfStar had always assumed that the Crusader would be Axis, but the Maze had never named him. Instead it had chosen Axis and Azhure's son Caelum.
     WolfStar nodded. Of course. He should have realised that the Crusader would need both Axis' and Azhure's blood.
     Then a chill swept through WolfStar. If the Crusader had been born and was now named by the Maze, it meant the hour of need must be nigh.
     What else followed those voices towards the Star Gate?
     He'd had three thousand years to prepare himself for this moment, and yet WolfStar wished he had three score more three thousand years.
     StarSon! StarSon! StarSon! the inscription about the Maze screamed. Aid me now!
     WolfStar turned very slightly so he could see the row upon row of seated birdmen and women behind him. There were hundreds of them, seated in orderly ranks, slowly swaying from side to side in perfect unison as they regarded the gate with part reverence, part fear, part love.
     "Are you true?" WolfStar asked softly.
     "True to the StarSon," replied the hundreds of voices.
     On each of their chests glowed the golden knot.
     Zared caught up with the Ravensbund Chief, Sa'Domai, on Sigholt's main staircase. "What's wrong, my friend? Why has Caelum summoned us this early?" Gods, he'd only been back in his private chamber a few minutes before the impassive Lake Guard was banging on his door!
     Sa'Domai shrugged, the tiny bells in his braided hair jingling merrily. "I can think of no reason Caelum would pull us from our beds this early, Zared."
     "Not for Council, surely?"
     His question was effectively answered as RiverStar and Zenith joined them from one of the landings. Neither had a seat on the Council. Zenith, Zared noticed, looked as haggard as he felt.
     She shook her head at Zared's enquiring glance, while RiverStar ignored both him and Sa'Domai. RiverStar had her own reasons for feeling tired this morning.
     Below them Zared heard FreeFall softly greet Yllgaine of Nor, then both the Icarü Talon and the Nors Prince were behind them. Zared nodded greetings at them, noting that both wore worried expressions.
     What was wrong? Invasion? Surely not - who would invade?
     Have farflight scouts reported the troops I have mustering west of Jervois Landing? Zared wondered, fear turning his belly to ice. But he quelled the thought quickly, filling his mind with jumbling images of the landscape between Severin and Sigholt. This place was full of Enchanters - and the most powerful of all would be in this hastily convened gathering. Zared needed none of them reading his mind. Even Zenith had indicated last night that she owed her highest loyalty to Tencendor itself.
     Where were Herme and Theod? Not called to this meeting, that was apparent. Were they already in chains in the dungeons? Were their confessions already being signed with their blood?
     Stop it! Zared carefully arranged his face in a neutral expression. Rivkah had carefully nurtured her son's vivid imagination, now Zared cursed it.
     Caelum lived in the spacious apartments that had once belonged to his parents. The central chamber was large, but it now seemed crowded with people moving about, finding themselves seats or stools, murmuring greetings, raising eyebrows in puzzled anxiety.
     "By the stars themselves," muttered FreeFall SunSoar behind Zared, clapping a friendly hand on the prince's shoulder. "I hope my nephew has had the foresight to order us breakfast!"
     Zared nodded, smiling slightly. He respected FreeFall greatly. The Icarü Talon was an extraordinary birdman, not only because, as most of the SunSoars, he was exceptionally beautiful with his violet eyes and silvery white wings, but because he had once died for Axis, only to have the Star God himself plead for the return of his soul with the GateKeeper in the realms of the Underworld. FreeFall's journey to the gates of death had changed the birdman. He was still fun-loving and quickwitted, but there was a depth of experience and knowledge about him, even an eerie stillness, that touched the souls of all in his presence.
     FreeFall found a stool to sit on, folding his wings neatly behind him and his hands patiently in his lap. Yllgaine of Nor, his dark eyes mischievous and his person beautifully clothed and jewelled even this early in the morning, touched Zared on the elbow. "There, a couch… if we leap and shove and scream I believe we can get there before Askam drapes himself along it."
     Zared bit his cheek to stop himself grinning and followed Yllgaine, decorous and polite despite his words, across the room, and sat down next to him.
     He chatted quietly with Yllgaine about inconsequential matters while looking about the chamber. Caelum, who had called everyone so hastily from their beds, had yet to make an appearance. All the Five were here. Askam was lounging against a window, and Sa'Domai had taken a stool next to FreeFall. As well as RiverStar and Zenith (who, Zared was amused to note, had sat as far away from her sister as possible), Caelum had also invited SpikeFeather TrueSong and WingRidge CurlClaw. Zared did not know either very well. Both, if not aloof, were in some undefinable way unapproachable. Besides, Spike-Feather now spent so much time with Orr the Ferryman it was little wonder that few among the Achari - human, dammit! — race knew him well.
     The gathering had arranged themselves comfortably and were either quiet, or murmuring softly to their neighbours, when Caelum entered from a door hidden behind a curtain.
     Zared's eyes widened a little at the sight of him -Caelum had also spent a sleepless night, it seemed. He was dressed and groomed perfectly, but his eyes were lined and weary.
     Something was worrying Caelum badly.
     A knot of fear coiled about Zared's belly. Had he seen any guards stationed in the main stairwell or the corridors as he'd come to Caelum's chambers? No, but they could now be lining the walls, and the Strike Force could be wheeling outside the windows, for all he knew.
     He caught eyes with Zenith. She shrugged slightly, but indicated with a small gesture of her head not to worry. Caelum had not discovered that Zared had spent so many hours with Leagh last night.
     Maybe not that, Zared thought, but what else? Gods! Where was Herme? Theod?
     Caelum walked to a spot before the unlit fireplace, so large and extensive that its mantel loomed above his head. "I am sorry to have called you here so early," he said, "but something has happened that -"
     The outer door opened and Drago walked through. Two steps inside he stopped, apparently astonished at the gathering in Caelum's apartment.
     He ran his eyes slowly about those assembled, his eyes lingering on Zenith and RiverStar, then he looked questioningly at Caelum. "Brother? I do beg your forgiveness for so intruding -"
     Zared thought he sounded anything but apologetic. In fact Drago's voice was so carefully neutral, so perfectly modulated, that his words sounded like a speech he'd carefully rehearsed walking up the stairwell.
     "- but I was searching for Zenith and one of the guards told me I could find her here."
     Drago paused, as if waiting for someone to say something. When no-one did, he carried on. "If I may ask, why so many people crowded into your chamber, Caelum? This all seems a trifle… unusual."
     Caelum stared at his brother, his eyes blazing, but Drago held his stare easily, his own face carefully set into an expression of inquiry.
     Zared thought it extraordinary. Few people could hold Caelum's gaze when he was angry, as he so obviously was now, but Drago apparently had no difficulty.
     "Every member of our family who is currently in Sigholt seems to be present," Drago said very softly, "and yet I wonder why it is that you forgot to extend me an invitation as well."
     Zared had to repress a small, hard smile. There was the crux of the matter. Drago had heard about this hastily convened meeting, and decided to attend as well. He'd put Caelum in a difficult position. If he asked Drago to leave, Caelum would look petty; if he asked him to stay, it would be clear that Drago had forced him to back down.
     "Perhaps as Drago has business with me," Zenith said into the silence, "he could stand with me here until this meeting is over… unless your errand is so important you suggest I leave with you now, Drago."
     Drago finally dragged his gaze away from his brother. "No, it was but a trivial idea I had for a new board game, Zenith. But, as I find the rest of the family here, I might as well stay."
     And he walked over to his sister, stepping around FreeFall and Sa'Domai as he did so.
     Caelum looked at Zenith, looked at Drago, then took a deep breath and noticeably bit down his temper. Zared thought it must have taken a particular effort, for Drago had verged on the insolent - but Zared also had to admire Drago's nerve, and sympathise with the man for being so obviously excluded from the life of Sigholt. For a SunSoar, that would indeed be galling treatment.
      Despite the terrible deeds of Drago's youth, Zared rather liked the man, and had always got on well with him. Drago was quick-witted and fast on his feet, and often spent a morning at weapon practice with Zared when the Prince stayed at Sigholt; Zared had good cause to rue the occasional lapse of concentration that had seen Drago give him a deserved nick with the sword blade. Watching him slip in beside Zenith, giving her a small smile, Zared decided that Drago was talent and intellect ignored and wasted by most of his family.
     Then Caelum spoke again, and Zared turned his eyes back towards him.
     "WolfStar has reappeared," Caelum said, and watched the faces of everyone in the room. All wore varying expressions of horror, amazement, and shock. All, Caelum noted with disquiet, save Drago, who managed to combine shock with a certain degree of thoughtfulness, as if weighing up the possibilities for mischief in this development.
     Caelum shifted his gaze to Zenith, who was so pale as to be ashen, and held a trembling hand to her throat as if deeply disturbed, and then he looked at RiverStar. She had recovered quickly from her shock, it seemed, for she held his gaze easily, her lips curled in one of her secretive smiles.
     The gathering was quickly recovering from its surprise, and now voices rose and fell, asking questions, demanding explanations. WolfStar was a name well known throughout Tencendor, and equally deeply distrusted. The renegade Enchanter-Talon had not only murdered hundreds of Icarü children, but had - to all intents and purposes - allied himself with Gorgrael, enabling the frightful creature to all but destroy Tencendor with his ice and Skraelings.
     True, he had fathered Azhure, and she had been instrumental in enabling Axis to eventually defeat Gorgrael, and true, the word was that WolfStar had been fighting on behalf of Axis all the time he had stood at Gorgrael's side.
     But that was almost beside the point. WolfStar was an Enchanter of frightening power - enough to see him come back from death through the Star Gate - and who worked only for his own purposes. And even if WolfStar's purposes might ultimately be for Tencendor's well-being, they had an appalling habit of causing the death of tens of thousands in their unravelling.
     FreeFall locked eyes with Caelum. "I like this not!" he spat. "What mischief does WolfStar now?"
     Caelum shrugged, made as if to say something, and then turned to Zenith as she spoke.
     "I felt a horror last night," she said, her eyes huge and round, her cheeks still pasty. "A sense of doom, as if the stars were falling in. Was this WolfStar?"
     "Undoubtedly, Zenith." Caelum swept his eyes about the room. "He appeared at the Star Gate, while Orr was there. And what they heard, and then what I heard, needs to be told so that -"
     "Has Council been called already? Without my presence?"
     An extraordinary figure had appeared in their midst. No-one was sure if he had slipped in through the door unnoticed or had simply used his extensive powers, a combination of both the Earth magic and the Star Dance, to materialise among them.
     The man was tall, slender, bare-footed, bare-chested and smooth-backed, his lower body wrapped in a cloth that, although it hung gracefully about him, looked as if it had been woven from bark and twigs. His eyes were emerald green, and fierce, as if he might snap at any moment. His hair was a tangle of wild curls the colour of sun-faded wheat, and at his hairline, on each side of his forehead, curled two unmistakable horns.
     Isfrael, hope of the Avar, conceived of Axis StarMan and Faraday, when she had been Tree Friend.
     Zenith shifted nervously, as did most others in the room. She was slightly apprehensive of her older brother. Although he was only a few years older than her, and although they had shared a childhood at Sigholt, Isfrael had changed since leaving to live with the Avar in the great forests to the east. Where once had been laughter was now only studied silence. Where once had been shared warmth was now only wary distance. Now Isfrael was all forest, all for the Avar. Alien, as if he had never shared a childhood with the other SunSoar children. There was a darkness, almost violent in its intensity, about the Mage-King. A tension within him, as if he would uncoil and strike at any moment.
     His mother, the creature that had once been Faraday, still roamed the Minstrelsea and Avarinheim forests, but was so fey and so shy that Zenith did not know anyone who had seen her over the past thirty years.
     "Isfrael," Caelum finally said with commendable calmness. "This is not a Council, but rather a hastily convened gathering to discuss my late-night meeting with WolfStar."
     Isfrael's eyebrows rose almost to his horns. "Then I am indeed glad I made the effort to arrive a day or so ahead of schedule. I have long held a wish to meet this demon of myth."
     "You should have spoken earlier, Isfrael. Had I known, I would have walked the paths of the Sacred Groves to meet you long before now."
     Barely over the shock of Isfrael's sudden appearance, everyone in the room now looked towards the gloomy, shadowy fireplace at Caelum's back; Caelum himself whipped about, and stepped to one side.
     There was a movement within the vast interior of the hearth, and then a figure stepped out.
     WolfStar. For everyone in the room who had never seen him - and that was most - it was immediately apparent from whom so many of the present-day SunSoars had inherited their copper hair and violet eyes. With his colouring and his golden wings, WolfStar was not only remarkably handsome, but radiated such power that everyone in the room found themselves either stepping back, or inching as far down in their seats as they could.
     Zenith cringed against a far wall, her knees threatening to buckle, her heart thumping erratically in her chest, barely able to breathe. The doom that had surrounded her last night had returned thrice-fold the instant WolfStar had spoken, and now Zenith did not know how anyone else in the room could stay so calm, when to her the entire universe seemed in danger of self-destruction.
     A hand grasped her arm and prevented her sliding to the floor.
     Drago.
     Zenith tried to speak, to thank him, but could not, for now WolfStar was staring at her, now walking towards her, and Drago had to slide his arm about her waist to stop her toppling over in the extremity of her horror.
     "Zenith," WolfStar said, stopping a pace away. It was not a question, not a greeting, just a statement, but Zenith felt as if he had somehow taken command of her soul with that one word.
     What was wrong with her? Why fear him so much? Why did he affect her this badly?
     Zenith, be calm. I am with you, I will protect you.
     Caelum, speaking to her with the mind voice that all Enchanters used. Together with Drago's arm about her waist, it saved Zenith from fainting completely away.
     WolfStar's eyes moved fractionally; he had also caught Caelum's thought.
     No-one can best me, fool boy! His mind moved back to the birdwoman before him. Zenith, do not fear me. Never fear me.
     And he reached out and touched her cheek.
     Some of the unreasoning fear vanished with that touch, but with it came a muddle of confused thoughts and images: the Dome of Stars on the Island of Mist and Memory, but seen from the interior, where Zenith had never been; a room in a peasant house, a man advancing to her, his hands outstretched in anger; a child, a raven-haired girl, nursing at her breast.
     WolfStar's fingers dropped from her cheek, and with them went the images.
     WolfStar smiled, his eyes tender, then turned slightly to Drago - and snarled.
     It was a horrible, harsh, totally aggressive sound, and it appalled everyone in the room. Drago himself literally thudded back against the wall, and no-one watching knew if it was simply his own fear and shock that had caused him to leap backwards, or WolfStar's power.
     "Vile creature!" WolfStar spat at him, his hands twitching. "Azhure should have killed you for your efforts in trying to murder Caelum!"
     "Why quibble about a few years between deed and execution?" Drago shot back. "My mother may not have killed me then, but she ensured my inevitable death!"
     Zared, watching, was consumed with two equally strong reactions. First, incredulity that Drago should have so quickly recovered to meet such frightening anger, and secondly, a sudden insight into how Drago must feel living with virtually immortal siblings - and knowing he had once shared that future - while he lined and aged day by day.
     WolfStar hissed in Drago's face, but this time the man did not flinch, holding WolfStar's furious eyes with the ease that he'd previously held Caelum's.
     By the gods of Earth and Stars, Zared thought, that man has more courage than a battalion of battle-hardened soldiers put together!
     "WolfStar!" Caelum snapped, and the Enchanter turned about, rearranging his expression into one of genial goodwill as he did so.
     "But there is one more I must yet greet," he said, as he stepped over to RiverStar and kissed her full on the lips.
     Zared blinked, then decided to be unsurprised. RiverStar's lusts were so widely gossiped about that no doubt even WolfStar had heard of her escapades. And, as sexual liaisons between grandparent and grandchild within the SunSoar clan were not forbidden, he supposed WolfStar had full right to so lingeringly enjoy RiverStar's mouth.
     Certainly RiverStar was in no hurry to end the kiss.
     About the room eyes dropped and cheeks reddened. Zared himself eventually looked away; even high Tencendorian society has its pruderies, he thought, although both WolfStar and RiverStar seemed intent on making an exhibition of themselves.
     "What a beautiful girl Azhure birthed," WolfStar whispered. "And so practised."
     RiverStar almost visibly preened.
     "WolfStar!" Caelum's voice cut across the tableau, and WolfStar straightened and looked about, locking eyes here and there, smiling as people shifted and dropped their own gazes, acknowledging FreeFall and Sa'Domai with a nod.
     Zared himself felt WolfStar's power as the Enchanter's eyes swept over him, but WolfStar apparently thought Zared of no account, for he spared him nothing more than a fleeting glance.
     For the first time since he'd entered the room, Zared let himself relax. Caelum knew nothing about the troop movements to the west (and of course, Zared told himself, they are only there in case Askam moves against me), and even if WolfStar had reappeared, no-one yet had been burned to ashes, and Sigholt still stood as solid as ever.
     But Zared flicked a glance at Zenith. She had recovered somewhat, but still appeared nervous and shaky.
     Isfrael, who of all in the room appeared least put out by WolfStar's presence, now stood with his arms folded across his chest and his feet well apart. "Where have you been, WolfStar? The last anyone heard of you was when you confounded my father amid the icy drifts of the northern tundra forty years ago."
     WolfStar grinned at the memory. "Axis thought to best me. He failed. But to answer your question, I have been…" he paused, his face set in a theatrical expression of thoughtfulness, "… about. Drifting."
     "That explanation will hardly relieve any minds within this room," Caelum said. "Much can be accomplished in forty years."
     "But no mischief, Caelum. No mischief. Now, would you like me to explain to this group of open-eyed and slack-mouthed listeners what we -"
     "What we heard," Caelum interrupted, obviously increasingly irritated by the way WolfStar so effortlessly commanded the room, "was something beyond the Star Gate. Something that whispers. Something that has caused WolfStar to reappear. Whatever it is, or they are, it calls for WolfStar."
     Voices again rose in shock and bewilderment. Something beyond the Star Gate?
     Caelum's voice cut across the murmuring. "WolfStar, will you speak? Will you offer, for once, some degree of explanation?"
     WolfStar, whose eyes had drifted back to Zenith, her own gaze now firmly on the floor, sighed and looked about.
     "I threw two hundred and twelve Icarü through the Star Gate," he said bluntly, horrifyingly, into the slight silence that had followed Caelum's request. "I killed them. Including my wife, StarLaughter."
      "And her son," FreeFall put in grimly. The SunSoar Talons had long lived with the guilt that one of their number had committed such atrocities.
     "We had named him…" WolfStar shifted his weight slightly, hiding the momentary gleam of amusement in his eyes. "We had named him DragonStar."
     Utter, horrible silence.
     Zared could not believe his ears. DragonStar had been Drago's birth name, given to him by his grandfather StarDrifter, and stripped from him by Azhure when she'd also taken his Enchanter powers and Icarü heritage. Zared risked a look at Drago - the man appeared as frozen as a trapped hare, his eyes locked with WolfStar's.
     "Imagine my amusement," WolfStar continued, now moving his gaze about the room, "when I discovered that StarDrifter, insipid fool that he is, had unwittingly named you after my lost son."
     Caelum took a step forward, his eyes sharp, his voice heavy with angry power. "Is this your manipulation, WolfStar? Did you twist StarDrifter's mind so that you could enjoy your amusement and our discomfort so many years later?"
     WolfStar laughed merrily, driving the witting cruelty yet deeper into Drago's heart, and waved a casual hand. "No. It was sheer coincidence. Or maybe Fate. I do not know."
     He looked back at Drago. "I believe, Drago, that had you not mishandled your infancy so badly you would have grown into an Enchanter unparalleled in the history of the Icarü. As my DragonStar would have done."
     Drago was now staring fixedly at a lamp far across the room, as if he could not trust himself to look at WolfStar.
     "And yet here my unfortunate brother is," RiverStar said, unable even in this crisis to control her vicious tongue, "a cripple in every sense save the physical one. Even then, I hear the kitchen girls laugh behind his -"
     "Hold your tongue, girl!" Zared had heard enough, and gods knew what Drago was going through. "Enough, RiverStar! Can you not see or understand what Drago is feeling? Can you not feel his pain?"
     Drago looked at Zared with complete astonishment, and Zared wondered if this was the first time in his life someone had actually spoken on his behalf.
     RiverStar slowly stood to her feet, furious that this… this mortal had spoken so harshly to her. "Do not forget, uncle," she hissed, "that I also witnessed Gorgrael tear Caelum from Imibe's arms because of Drago's persistent jealousy, and I watched as Gorgrael sliced the flesh from Imibe's bones. I believed then," she turned her gaze to Drago, "that he would direct Gorgrael to my murder as well. I feared for my own life. That is a fear, Zared, that twists and warps."
     Along with everyone else, Caelum was looking at his sister. But he had lost all sense and understanding of being in this chamber. All he could see was the horror of Gorgrael plummeting from the sky, all he could feel was the terror of knowing his brother had plotted to kill him by the vilest means possible.
     For decades Caelum had fought to bury that memory, fought to forget the frightful weeks he'd spent trapped in Gorgrael's Ice Fortress, fought to heal himself of the scars on his soul as his body had healed itself of the scars inflicted by Gorgrael's talons.
     But now the emotions and words of this room had called it all back, brought the fear and the pain and the uncertainty slithering to the surface again.
     He blinked, blinked again, and finally managed to control himself. He was beyond that now, far beyond it.
     Surely. His eyes drifted to Drago, and a lump of unreasoning fear rose in his throat.
     And Zared thought to defend Drago? Why? Was he in league with Drago?
     FreeFall watched the emotions flow over the faces of Axis' children. Fear, hatred, bitterness, sadness - all were evident. How is it, FreeFall thought, that Axis and Azhure united a land so deeply divided, yet left a brood of children separated by such appalling antipathy that they can barely keep themselves from each other's throats?
     He sighed, and spoke. "WolfStar, is this coincidence of naming of any consequence?"
      "No, FreeFall. None. It is not even surprising, when you think about it. The son whom StarLaughter carried was very, very powerful, and DragonStar was an appropriate name for him. Azhure also carried an immensely powerful son, and DragonStar was also an appropriate name for that baby."
     "And yet as I was stripped of name and heritage," Drago said, his voice under tight control, "so was he. Both DragonStars doomed just before or just after birth."
     Caelum stared flatly at him. "WolfStar's son did not deserve his fate, Drago. You did."
     Drago visibly winced, and dropped his eyes. But WolfStar grinned impishly at him. Oh, but he did, he did, he thought, his mind masked from all the other Enchanters in the room. Like you, Drago, my son plotted to steal my heritage as you plotted to steal Caelum's. Maybe it is something to do with the name…
     "Continue, WolfStar," Caelum said, his eyes still on Drago. "We have not yet got beyond the front gate of your explanation."
     WolfStar shook himself from his entertaining train of thought. "I killed two hundred and twelve," he repeated. "I threw them through the Star Gate in my obsession to discover a way back. I thought that if one of those children, just one, managed to come back, then I would be able to do so as well."
     "You wasted two hundred and twelve lives," FreeFall said flatly.
     "At the time I thought it was necessary," WolfStar replied. "I was afraid that the Star Gate held more terrors than wonders. What if someone, some thing, crawled through that could threaten Tencendor?"
     "An admirable sentiment," Caelum interrupted, "if only it were true. My father told me you were also intent on expanding your own power."
     WolfStar smiled humourlesslv. "No, not entirely. I was genuinely afraid of the potential threat that the Star Gate posed. I wanted to understand all its mysteries, not only to expand my own power, but also to ensure Tencendor's protection.
     "Well, to continue. Every Icarü birdman and birdwoman in this room has the right, as the Icarü nation has the right, to sit in judgment for that act. None of the two hundred and twelve came back, and I had lost the two I valued most dearly, StarLaughter and our son. Before I could commit acts of even greater horror, CloudBurst ended my misery, and the misery of the entire Icarü people, with a heavy dagger thrust to my back."
     WolfStar twisted in his seat, clearly remembering the feel of the blade sliding in, the taste in his mouth as his lungs filled with blood. "I died, I was entombed, and I walked through the Star Gate."
     "What did you find there, WolfStar?" Caelum's voice was very, very soft.
     "I found… other existences. I found knowledge. I found that life, as death, are but passing dreams." And there were other things I found and that found me, Caelum StarSon, that I am unwilling to disclose. Not until I am sure there is the need. But this thought WolfStar shared with no-one.
     From the corner of his eyes, Zared noticed that Drago had leaned forward slightly, as if caught by the magic of WolfStar's voice, or perhaps the vistas the Enchanter's words had prompted in his mind.
     "And other worlds, WolfStar," Caelum asked. "Did you find other worlds?"
     "They exist, Caelum. I experienced them - I cannot put it in any other way - but I did not physically visit them. But they are there, yes."
     "Do they harbour races who might invade?" Zared ventured to ask, leaving the enigma of Drago for the moment.
     WolfStar blinked. "Races from other worlds? No, no, I think not. I did not sense any threat -"
     "Then what of the children you murdered?" Zenith said. Zared was surprised to hear that although her voice was soft, it was strong. "For surely it is they who whispered beyond the Star Gate. Will they come back?"
     Her question made WolfStar turn and stare at her for long minutes, as if he were trying to burn every angle, every plane of her face into his mind.
     "Yes," he finally managed, "you are right. They are those I killed."
     "Do they pose a danger to Tencendor?" Caelum asked.
     "No, they do not. They yearn for my blood, but I am here and they are lost beyond the Star Gate. As far as I am concerned, that is the way it will stay."
     Isfrael shifted irritably. "Then why do we hear their voices now, and never before?"
     WolfStar shrugged, not willing to take his eyes from Zenith. "They drift, lost. It is not surprising that they would eventually drift slightly closer to the Star Gate than they had been previously."
     "Should we help them come home?" FreeFall asked.
     His question was enough to make WolfStar drag his eyes away from Zenith. "No! No, we cannot do that!"
     "And why not, WolfStar?" FreeFall's voice was very tight.
     WolfStar took a deep breath. "They have changed. Being thrown through the Star Gate as they were, alive, terrified, into a cosmos to drift for thousands of years, has altered them. They are not what they were. If they were to come through, then yes, I would fear. Please, believe me in this."
     No-one in the room noticed Drago's eyes narrow.
     "But you said there was no danger," Caelum said.
     "As long as they remain beyond the Star Gate," WolfStar replied testily. "And I can see no way they can step through."
     "You could," Caelum reminded him. "You came back."
     "Yes, I came back, but I went through under very different circumstances," WolfStar explained, unwilling to disclose what it was that had helped him back. It wouldn't help the children, would it? "I was a powerful and fully trained Enchanter when I went through. I came back, but they will not. They do not have the skills, and they do not have the power. Believe me. They will never come back. In time the interstellar tides will carry them far away from the Star Gate. In a week or two their voices will be gone."
     Caelum stared at WolfStar a moment longer, then he turned to SpikeFeather.
     "My friend, get you to the Star Gate and keep watch with Orr. If those voices come closer, if anything happens, then let me know."
     SpikeFeather nodded, and slipped from the room.
     WolfStar raised his eyes above the gathered heads and looked at WingRidge CurlClaw.
     At some point, when people had grouped into ones and twos to discuss WolfStar's words, the Enchanter himself had disappeared. Zenith, who'd made sure she kept a close eye on him, had no idea how he had done it. He'd been close to the fireplace, but she could have sworn he had not stepped back into it. Neither had he used any Song of Movement, because she would have felt it had he done so.
     He was there one heartbeat, gone the next.
     And Zenith had allowed herself to breathe a little more easily.
     Of the others, Drago had been the next to leave, his exit far more noticeable. He'd pushed bluntly past those in his way and stalked from the room, every eye following him.
     Zenith felt for Drago, and wished she'd had the courage Zared showed in leaping to his defence when RiverStar's cruel tongue had been working its damage. Zenith had felt so ashamed that she'd later made the effort to join in the conversation, even asking WolfStar a question.
     He'd stared at her, but this time there had been nothing but the stare, nothing but the roiling and yet unreadable emotion in his eyes.
     Once Drago had gone, the rest of the group had been fairly quick to break up. There was much to be discussed and debated in the privacy of individual chambers, and even breakfasts to be had, for the initial shock of WolfStar's appearance, and then his news, had long gone, and stomachs were now complaining.
     Most of the servants within Sigholt, as well as the heads of the Five and their advisers, were busy with preparations for Council, which was to commence the next morning, so Zenith spent most of the day with Leagh. She felt restless, and useless in the current hive of activity, and Leagh was always comfortable company. Zenith told Leagh all that had happened in Caelum's chambers, for she thought the woman had as much right to know as Askam or Zared, and then she asked what had transpired between her and Zared the night previously.
     "Oh, Zenith! I saw more of him last night than I swear I have in the past four years. Thank you, thank you!"
     Leagh's eyes had glimmered with emotion, and Zenith had to fight back the tears herself.
     Having passed the evening meal with Leagh, Zenith wandered back to her own chamber, but could not settle. Every time a drape moved in a draft, or a shadow flickered, Zenith jumped, thinking it was WolfStar.
     She was sure he would come after her -
     Why use that phraseology?
     - why, she could not tell. But something in his touch, something in his eyes… he wanted something from her. But what? Surely it was not lust, for what WolfStar had shown her was not the wantonness he'd displayed with RiverStar.
      But something else.
     Something… deeper.
     But that was ridiculous. She'd never met him, she was sure. WolfStar had disappeared long years before she'd even been born. Why should he spare her even a passing thought? She was nothing in the power games and mysteries currently being played out in Tencendor.
     The images - memories? - that had flooded Zenith's mind when WolfStar touched her cheek now came back and assailed her again, though with less force this time. She'd seen the inside of the Dome of Stars - but that was the province only of the First Priestess of the Temple, and Zenith had never been there. She'd seen inside that peasant hut, seen the angry, nameless man advance on her, murder in his eyes - but neither had she seen hut nor man previously. And the child… the child. Who?
     Ah! Zenith shook herself. She would go mad left alone in this room to think!
     She wondered again about Drago, how he felt after enduring his own personal trauma that morning, and determined to find him.
     She found him, as she thought she would, in the kitchens.
     RiverStar goaded Drago about affairs with the kitchen girls, but Zenith knew the real reason Drago spent so much time in the kitchens of Sigholt.
     She'd discovered his secret one night seven years ago when she could not sleep and had thought to heat herself a glass of warm milk. She'd come in the kitchen doors, and then halted, astounded.
     Drago had been standing at one of the work tables, dicing a huge mound of vegetables.
     For some obscure reason, Drago loved to cook. He spent an hour or two down here most days, and longer if he was particularly upset over something. It was no mystery to Zenith that he would be here now.
     This late at night the fires were damped down, and the staff had long gone to bed. Even so, the air was still warm, and the great metal ranges against the far wall radiated a comforting glow.
     Drago was standing at a table before one of the ranges, several bowls before him, the tabletop strewn with flour and pieces of discarded meat.
     "Drago?"
     His head whipped up and a bowl rattled as he jumped. "What is it?"
     Zenith walked further into the room. "I thought you might like to talk about this morning."
     Her brother dropped his eyes and kneaded some dough in a bowl, unspeaking.
     Zenith walked over to the range, keeping her wings carefully tucked away but rubbing her hands before its warmth. "What did you think about WolfStar?"
     Drago did not answer.
     Now Zenith hugged her arms to herself, her eyes unfocused. "He scares me, Drago. I did not like the way he looked at me. The way he touched me."
     "I am sure there are some dozen or more people within Sigholt today who could say they do not like the way WolfStar looks at them." He still had not raised his eyes from the bowl.
     Zenith studied Drago carefully. He was kneading dough as if he wanted to bruise it.
     "Drago…" She hesitated, but thought it needed to be discussed. "How did it make you feel to learn the name of Wolf Star's son?"
     Drago lifted the mass of dough out of the bowl and slammed it down on the table, sending flour drifting in a cloud about him. He lifted his eyes and stared at Zenith.
     "If he did not lie - and from the tales we've heard we know how WolfStar can lie - then all I can say is that DragonStar is a cursed name. Both of us condemned to our different deaths."
     "Drago -"
     "Except that I think WolfStar's son died far more gently than I!" He started to roll the dough back and forth, back and forth.
     "Drago -"
     "I do not want to talk about it!" He chopped the dough in two with the side of his hand, played at shaping one of the pieces into a pie crust, then suddenly threw it into a corner of the kitchen with all the strength he could.
     ",' do not want to talk about it!"
     "Damn you, Drago! You must talk sometime!"
     Drago rounded on her. "Look at you, Zenith! You are beautiful, vital, and you revel in your Enchanter powers. You have an aeon to live. Look at me!"
     His fingers pinched at his body, then his face. "Look at me! I am wrinkling and ageing. I get out of breath climbing the stairs to the roof. All the magic I can perform is getting this… this… this arse-blasted lump of pastry to rise in the oven! And all I ever hear about this cursed Keep is how vile I am, how much air is wasted on my breath, and how I can never be trusted or loved or relied upon!"
     Unable to bear her brother's pain, Zenith lowered her eyes and toyed with the handle of a pot on the range hotplate. She could not blame Drago for feeling angry or resentful. No-one in their family seemed willing to harbour a single positive thought for the man or to consider that perhaps he had been punished enough. No-one seemed to entertain the idea that Drago might be so consumed by bitterness that his very punishment might drive him to ill-considered action.
     And no-one save she had ever seemed to think through the implications of what Azhure had done to him. Icarü babies were very different from human babies in that they were completely aware from the moment of their birth and, indeed, many months before it. All Icarü memories stretched back to events pre-birth. But when Drago was only a few months old, Azhure had stripped him of his Icarü heritage, and had plunged his mind into the dim murkiness of human infancy. Drago's memories could not date from anything earlier than his second or third year of life.
     Drago would have no memory of the events that had seen him so cruelly punished. He was largely reviled, mistrusted, unloved and, above all, condemned to a life of only some three or four score of years, when he could have expected hundreds at least, for a crime he could not remember!
     No-one cared about how Drago might be feeling or what kind of man lay buried beneath all the years of built-up bitterness. Zenith alone of the immediate family rather liked Drago; perhaps because she'd not yet been conceived when he had arranged Caelum's kidnapping. Drago had a sharp wit and was, in odd, unexpected moments, kind and thoughtful.
     He is trapped here in Sigholt, Zenith realised suddenly. Trapped by other people's memories of what he did as a child.
     As I am trapped by another's memories.
     Zenith went ice cold. Was that what it was? Why she had such unexplained memories invading her mind? Were they someone else's? But whose?
     "Perhaps we should both leave Sigholt for a while," she said softly.
     "What?" Drago had given up his efforts at cooking and was piling bowls into the sink with loud, angry rattles.
     "Drago, how long is it since you left Sigholt?" Zenith moved forward but stopped as Drago's face tightened.
     "I don't think you've left in at least eight years. Drago… why?"
     He stared at her, not answering.
     "There is nothing keeping either of us here… why don't we visit StarDrifter? Escape the tensions in this Keep?"
     "Why should you want to leave?"
     Why indeed? Zenith almost said, "Because of WolfStar", but stopped, knowing she couldn't explain to Drago, let alone herself, her deep-seated fright of the Enchanter, her unsettling visions, or her recurring gaps in consciousness.
     "Because there is a world of purpose out there," she said eventually, "and because neither of us has a purpose in here."
     "If I have no purpose it is because my life has been made deliberately purposeless! I am not trusted enough to be given the responsibility of a purpose."
     "Then why not leave, Drago? StarDrifter would enjoy seeing both of us."
     He looked at her, his violet eyes soft, almost gentle in this light, and she knew he was remembering the image of StarDrifter she had conjured up, and the happy months they had spent on the Island of Mist and Memory as children.
     "I have no purpose anywhere," he finally said, his voice weary with resignation. "Wherever I go I will always be the vile traitor."
     "You can remake your life if you leave Sigholt. Please, Drago."
     He seized her shoulders, and Zenith was astounded to see tears in his eyes. "I can never escape, Zenith! Never! Word would spread that Axis' untrustworthy and evil son Drago is travelling the land. Doors everywhere would be closed to me. I have no life here in Sigholt, but I would have no life anywhere. Now, will you leave me alone?"
     And he strode from the kitchen.
     Even more troubled now, Zenith climbed to the rooftop of Sigholt. She stood and watched the lights shut out one by one in the town of Lakesview on the other side of the lake. She let the warm breeze caress her, and briefly contemplated a flight over the lake and hills. But she was tired, her mind full of problems, and she preferred just to lean over the wall of the roof and let the view soothe her.
     Determined not to think of WolfStar, or Zared and Leagh's troubles, or even of Drago, Zenith fixed her thoughts on RiverStar's claim to have found a new lover. And one she might wed? Zenith almost laughed aloud. Maybe her lover considered marrying RiverStar, but Zenith doubted seriously that her sister would ever go that far. She enjoyed her freedoms too much to discard them for fidelity.
     Unless… unless her lover were SunSoar. A SunSoar might well tempt RiverStar, but who was available to her here in Sigholt if not first blood?
     Zenith frowned. FreeFall… but FreeFall was impossible. He and his wife EvenSong were virtually inseparable, and EvenSong was here with him. Besides, who could ever think of FreeFall and RiverStar… no, that was laughable. Surely.
     And WolfStar. WolfStar was here - how much longer had he been about before he made his presence known? His penchant for disguises was legendary. If he was RiverStar's new lover, had he been coming to her in the guise of a stableboy, or himself?
     No, no, not WolfStar. Zenith did not want to think of him at all.
     Although remember the way he'd kissed RiverStar this morning; was that boldness, or familiarity?
     Isfrael! Zenith forced her mind as far from WolfStar as she could. Was Isfrael first blood? She supposed he was, for he and RiverStar shared a SunSoar father. But then Isfrael had changed so much since he'd become Mage-King of the Avar that it was as if his SunSoar link was gone.
     Although he still had the blood to satisfy RiverStar, if indeed it were him.
     No, surely not Isfrael. He had only been here since this morning… hadn't he? When had Isfrael arrived?
     "Oh, for the sweet Stars' sakes," Zenith murmured. "RiverStar is probably just making it all up, anyway."
     She looked down to the far courtyard, her Enchanter vision having no trouble picking out every detail in the thick night shadow. A guard moved from barrack to gate, another checked the doors to the weapons room off the main building.
     A movement. Drago. Zenith sharpened her vision, then smiled gently, her eyes soft. He was feeding scraps of meat to the courtyard cats. Five or six had gathered, mewling about his legs, reaching up to pat his knees with their paws. He laughed, and squatted down to scratch them, their heads butting against his arms and chest affectionately.
     Zenith had never realised he liked cats so much - nor that they so obviously adored him. All the food was gone, but still they stayed, winding about him. Her face softened yet more. Someone besides herself in this great Keep liked the man.
     Drago stood up, extracted himself from the cats, and stepped back inside.
     Zenith watched for a few more minutes, but he did not reappear. She sighed, and moved to the parapets that overlooked the lake, resting her elbows on the wall, her chin in her hands, lost in thought.
     Sigholt was now completely quiet. The dogs were curled in sleep, the guards seemed to have turned to stone at their posts.
     Silence and stillness reigned.
     Zenith felt as if she had been transported to another world. Even the breeze had disappeared.
     Her wings relaxed and drifted over the flagstones behind her. She sank into a greater lethargy, leaning her full weight on the wall, watching the waves ripple across the moonlit Lake of Life.
     Zenith did not notice the tiniest of movements in the air about her, nor catch the enchantment that rippled over the rooftop.
     "I find it not strange that I have discovered you atop Sigholt," WolfStar said, and she whirled around, her heart pounding.
     He stood relaxed and easy, his wings drooping behind him in the traditional Icarü gesture of goodwill. "For so once StarDrifter found Rivkah, and loved her, and so Axis once found Azhure, and loved her, too. No, do not lift off. Stay and talk to me, Zenith. You have nothing to fear."
     Then why does my heart race so, Zenith thought, and my breast heave with such fright? She steadied herself, although her eyes flickered about, seeking the reassurance of another person close by.
     There was no-one save her and WolfStar.
     A movement above her, against the Dome.
     Zenith gasped, her eyes involuntarily jerking upwards. There was nothing there save the swirling stars. Nothing.
     "Do you remember, sweet Zenith," WolfStar said very softly, "when last you saw me? Do you remember that night so long ago?"
      A shadow spiralling down from the roof of the Dome.
     "No," Zenith whispered, grabbing at the parapets for support. "No! We have never met before this morning!"
     Something was happening. The night air of Sigholt was swirling about her, and every few heartbeats it seemed to solidify until she felt as if she were inside… inside an empty building… a dome.
     "No!"
     "Zenith, do not fear. You are only remembering. Accept."
     WolfStar walked slowly towards her, and as he did so he lifted his hand in the demanding gesture of seduction that male Enchanters used to will women to their bed.
     "No,'" She could not move, and her mind voice seemed to have vanished. She was trapped, trapped… he was too powerful…
     "Yes! Zenith… here… let me remind you."
     He was close now, gathering her stiff body in his arms, and Zenith struggled uselessly, wondering if he was intent on rape.
     She felt his arms about her, and it was good.
     No, no it wasn't good! Yet something seemed to have taken possession of her, some part of her mind willed her to cease resisting and let WolfStar slide her to the floor, some part of her was saying… you have bedded with him previously.
     No! She twisted her head away but WolfStar was too powerful for her, both his body and his power were too strong, and she felt his mouth close over hers…
     And something happened. Something broke free, something struggled free within her. Memories, voices, scents, laughter not her own crowded her mind. Faces, experiences, songs she'd never seen or heard before leaped out of hiding. A desire she'd never felt flooded her body. She…
     felt him enter her body, move within her, and she had never believed it could feel this good, had never believed that such intimacy could engender such feeling, and…
     No! No, what was wrong with her? His mouth was on hers, that was all. All? She could not escape it, she could not escape him, she…
     twisted under him, encouraging him with body and voice, willing him on to even greater effort, willing him to merge so completely with her body and soul that they would indeed become one and not just two bodies briefly conjoined in an act designed only for child engendering.
     Zenith tore her mouth from his. "No!" Broke away from him, yet even as she stumbled five or six paces away from him she felt…
     the fire that he had seeded in her womb explode into new life and…
     She screamed and fell to the floor, doubling over, clutching at her belly. Her wings beat futilely behind her, and almost knocked WolfStar over as he leaned down and grabbed her, holding her tightly against him, trying to stifle her sobs.
     "Zenith, your mother was wrong not to tell you this before -"
     "Tell me what?"
     "That you were born to be my lover, Zenith. Meant for no-one else. Why else are you still a virgin at your age? Here I am, Zenith. Accept me. Zenith, you love me… accept me."
     And the dreadful thing was Zenith could feel that love, could remember the nights she had lain in her lonely bed, wishing he would return to her, crying as the night lightened to dawn and he had not appeared. She could remember years spent loving him, and she could remember months spent watching her belly swell with his child.
     "No,'" she shouted once more, and lunged from his arms, using both limbs and wings. Her hip struck the sharp edge of the parapet over the courtyard, and she cried out, her arms flailing. WolfStar lunged for her, but he was too late, and Zenith tumbled over the edge of the roof, gaining control of her wings only within feet of the ground and landing roughly enough to scrape hands and knees.
     Help me! Help me!
     And suddenly, Drago was there.
     "Oh, Stars!" he cried, and fell to his knees, gathering her in his arms. Two guards from the gate had started to run towards them, but Drago waved them back. "A slip! Nothing more!"
     Then, her sobbing face pressed into his chest, he held her tight, rocking her back and forth. "Zenith, what is it? What is it?"
     Zenith clung to her brother, sobbing, letting his closeness and warmth and touch drive away her memories and the feel of WolfStar.
     In the rectangle of light behind Drago another figure appeared. "Zenith!"
     Caelum.
     "Zenith! Drago, what have you done to her? Let her go!"
     "Caelum," Zenith sobbed, trying to say it was alright, that Drago was helping,' not hurting, but the words would not come, and Caelum reached down and literally tore her from Drago's arms.
     "Get you gone from here!" Caelum snarled at Drago, who had backed away, his eyes swinging between Caelum's face and Zenith, now clinging to her eldest brother.
     "I was only helping -" he began, but Caelum reached out with his power and cut off Drago's words.
     "I do not want to hear your excuses! Get you gone from here!"
     Drago's face twisted, trying to form words, but Caelum would not let them come, and with a gesture of half rage, half frustration, he disappeared inside the kitchen door.
     "Sweetheart," Caelum whispered, gathering Zenith more tightly into his arms, and then the music of a Song of Movement rippled about them, and they disappeared from the courtyard.
     She came to her senses, still wrapped in Caelum's arms, but now sitting on one of the commodious couches in the inner private chamber of his apartments.
     "Where's Drago?" she said, sniffing and wiping her nose with a cloth Caelum handed her.
     "He fled. Did he push you?"
     "No! No, I stumbled from the rooftop. WolfStar ; . . WolfStar was there."
     "Ah! WolfStar! He is truly the bane of our lives. Did he hurt you?"
     "No," Zenith said, but she spoke so hesitatingly that Caelum took her shoulders and pushed her back a little so he could see her face.
     "He did," he said slowly. "He did hurt you. How?"
     Zenith probably would have confessed to the first person who showed her kindness, be it Caelum or unknown dairy maid. Words came tumbling out of her mouth.
     "WolfStar… on the roof… kissed me… thoughts, images, not mine… crowded me… frightened me."
     Caelum pulled her close again, stroking her hair. "Go on." His eyes were distant.
     Zenith gripped her hands together in an effort to stop them shaking. "He appeared suddenly, and that surprised me, but then I felt as if I was in a… chamber of some kind. The Dome of the Moon. It was very dark. I felt there was something there, clinging to the roof. It frightened me, terrified me, I was there, I saw that place -and yet I have never been inside it in my life!"
     She raised her head, enough to look Caelum in the eyes. "I felt as though I was someone else. Memories crowded my mind. Memories that were not mine! Oh, Caelum…!"
     And in another flood she told him of the lost hours and the nightmares and the fears. Who was this who crowded her mind, and who sometimes took such possession of her that she could not remember what she had done? Who?
     "Caelum, I do not know what to think, what to do!"
     "Hush," Caelum said, holding her tight, stroking her hair, her back, kissing the crown of her head. "Hush."
     Thoughts and memories crowded his own mind, but they were not of someone else's making. He remembered the time, nine years ago, when Axis and Azhure had handed control of Tencendor over to him. True, there had been a glittering ceremony on the shores of Grail Lake, but there had been a far more private afternoon, when his parents had handed into his keeping some of the most precious items of their lives.
     The Rainbow Sceptre, now carefully secreted within Sigholt.
     The Wolven Bow, for Azhure had said she no longer needed to ride to the hunt.
     The enchanted quiver of arrows, which never ran out.
     A Moonwildflower.
     And a letter. A letter addressed to Azhure, and written by her long dead mother, Niah.
     No-one save Azhure could remember Niah, for she had died when Azhure was only about six. Niah had been the First Priestess on the Island of Mist and Memory when one night WolfStar had appeared to her, lain with her, and got Azhure upon her.
     Within seven years Niah was dead, burned alive at the hands of her Plough-Keeper husband, Hagen, in the cursed village of Smyrton. But she had left Azhure a letter, and when Azhure had given it to Caelum she'd told him that one day he must hand it to Zenith.
     "You will know when, Caelum. You will know the moment."
     And this was the moment. Trembling, for he had never read the letter, and did not know what was in it, Caelum gently disengaged himself, and left the room.
     Zenith sat up straight, dried her eyes, and shook her hair out, grateful for the support and love Caelum had shown her, but wishing she could have explained about Drago.
     Caelum was back within a few minutes, holding an envelope in his hands.
     "Caelum. Drago was only -"
     "Hush. Let us not speak of him, Zenith. Read this. Maybe it will help you understand."
     Puzzled, Zenith took the letter. Across the envelope there was a word scratched in bold ink. Azhure.
     Even more bewildered, Zenith looked at Caelum. The writing was in Zenith's own hand. "Who wrote this?"
     "Niah, Azhure's mother."
     Niah?
     "Read it, Zenith."
     Zenith dropped her eyes to the letter. Quashing the sudden wave of apprehension that almost engulfed her, she opened the envelope and took the letter out. Hands trembling, she unfolded it and began to read, her eyes skipping over the irrelevant passages.
     My dearest daughter Azhure, may long life and joy be yours forever…
     Five nights ago you were conceived and tonight, after I put down my pen and seal this letter, I will leave this blessed isle. I will not return - but one day I hope you will come back.
     Five nights ago your father came to me.
     It was the fullness of the moon, and it was my privilege, as First Priestess, to sit and let its light and life wash over me in the Dome of the Moon. I heard his voice before I saw him.
     "Niah," a voice resonant with power whispered through the Dome, and I started, because it was many years since I had heard my birth name.
     "Niah," the voice whispered again, and I trembled in fear. Were the gods displeased with me? Had I not honoured them correctly during my years on this sacred isle and in this sacred Temple?
     "Niah," the voice whispered yet again, and my trembling increased, for despite my lifetime of chastity I recognised the timbre of barely controlled desire… and I was afraid.
     I stood… my eyes frantically searched the roof overhead and for long moments I could see nothing, then a faint movement caught my eye.
     A shadow was spiralling down from the roof of the Dome… The shadow laughed and spoke my name again as he alighted before me.
     "I have chosen you to bear my daughter," he said, and he held out his hand, his fingers flaring. "Her name will be Azhure."
     At that moment my fear vanished as if it had never existed. Azhure… Azhure… I had never seen such a man as your father and I know I will not again during this life… His wings shone gold, even in the dark night of the Dome, and his hair glowed with copper fire. His eyes were violet, and they were hungry with magic.
     Azhure, as Priestesses of the Stars we are taught to accede to every desire of the gods, even if we are bewildered by their wishes, but went to him with willingness, not with duty. I wore but a simple shift, and as his eyes and fingers flared wider I stepped out of it and walked to meet his hand.
     As his hand grasped mine it was as if I was surrounded by Song, and as his mouth captured mine it was as if I was enveloped by the surge of the Stars in their Dance. His power was so all-consuming that I knew he could have snuffed out my life with only a thought. Perhaps I should have been terrified, but he was gentle for a god - not what I might have expected - and if he caused me any pain that night I do not remember it. But what I do remember… ah, Azhure, perhaps you have had your own lover by now, but do you know what it feels like to lie with one who can wield the power of the Stars through his body? At times I know he took me perilously close to death as he wove his enchantments through me and made you within my womb, but I trusted him and let him do what he wanted and lay back in his wings as he wrapped them about me and yielded with delight and garnered delight five-fold in return.
     Zenith blinked, for it was as if she were there, feeling this, not reading about it. She… she could remember writing these words, remember sitting there for almost an hour at this point, her mouth curling softly in memory of that night of passion and loving. She had not known his name then, but that had not mattered very much, not when she had his body to grasp to her, not when both she and he burned with such virulent desire.
     Zenith shuddered. Gods! What was happening to her?
     Even as he withdrew from my body I could feel the fire that he had seeded in my womb erupt into new life. He laughed gently at the cry that escaped my lips and at the expression in my eyes, but I could see his own eyes widen to mirror the wonder that filled mine. For a long time we lay still, his body heavy on mine, our eyes staring into each other's depths, as we felt you spring to life within my womb.
     Zenith's mouth formed the word "No", but she did not voice it. She was no longer in her mother's chamber in Sigholt, but lying on the cold floor of the Dome of the Moon, staring into WolfStar's eyes as he lay atop her.
     After a moment she managed to regain enough control so she could resume reading the letter. Niah wrote of how the "god" - WolfStar - had told her she would have to travel to Smyrton, wed the local Plough-Keeper, Hagen, and bear her child. There the child, Azhure, would eventually meet the StarMan.
     ,' know that will die in Smyrton, and I know that the man your father sends me to meet and to marry will also be my murderer. I know that my days will be numbered from the hour that I give you birth. It is a harsh thing that your father makes me do, for how will I be able to submit to this Plough-Keeper Hagen, knowing I will die at his hands, and keep a smile light on my face and my body willing? How can I submit to any man, having known the god who fathered you? How can I submit to a life dominated by the hated Brotherhood of the Seneschal, when I have been First Priestess of the Order of the Stars?
     Your father saw my doubts and saw my future pain, and he told me that one day I will be reborn to be his lover forever.
     "No, no, no, no." Zenith shook as the implications of what she was reading began to sink in. "No,'"
     He said that he had died and yet lived again, and that I would follow a similar path.
      He said that he loved me.
     Perhaps he lied, but I choose not to think so. To do otherwise would be to submit to despair. His promise, as your life, will keep me through and past my death into my next existence.
     "I do not believe it," Zenith said with all the calmness she could muster. She carefully folded the letter in half and handed it back to Caelum. "Read it. But do not believe it. It is a mistake. A lie."
     Caelum walked slowly over to the fire, standing with his back to the flames as he read through the letter once, then once more, far more slowly.
     "I knew some of this," he said, finally looking up. "I knew that WolfStar came to Niah in the Dome of the Moon. I knew how Niah died. But this… this promise that WolfStar made to Niah… that she would live again… that I did not know."
     "But Mother did know. She knew… all these years! Knew and never told me! Why?"
     Is that why Mother did not give me a Star name? Zenith wondered. Because she knew I was Niah reborn?
     "Why?" Caelum shrugged helplessly, spreading his hands out. "Zenith, I don't know. Maybe she felt there was no point telling you until… until WolfStar reappeared. Gods! I don't know!"
     "So she let me find out this way?"
     "Zenith." Caelum came back to sit by her side, his voice gentle. "If there is one thing I have learned from my parents' lives, and from my own, it is that we are all born with a destiny. My parents were into their third decades before their destinies became clear to them, and -"
     "No!" Zenith took the letter from Caelum's hand and began to turn it over and over in her own. "I will not accept it!"
     "- and I have had to accept that my destiny is as StarSon, and my burden is Tencendor."
     "I am Zenith! No-one else!"
     "Yes, my dear, yes. But… but it is apparent that you also have Niah's soul and many of her memories, and -"
     "No!" How many times had she shouted that negative tonight, Zenith numbly wondered in a dark recess of her mind, and how many more times would she have to shout it?
     - and," Caelum continued, speaking over Zenith's increasing denials, "you still have life. You have all of your own memories and experiences. You must only come to terms with the fact that you also have a set of memories and experiences that stretch back before your birth."
     "No!" Zenith leapt to her feet and began pacing restlessly about the room. What now was truly, truly terrifying was the fact that as she had shouted that "No!" some part of her mind had whispered back, Yes!
     She was Niah reborn… born to live out Niah's yearnings, Niah's life. No!
     She was Niah, reborn, both mother and daughter to Azhure. No!
     She was Niah reborn, and what that meant was that she no longer had any say in her own life, because her life would now be lived according to Niah's dictates, Niah's dreams. "No!"
     She would live her life locked in the arms of Niah's lover.
     "I am not Niah!" she whispered, low and fierce. How could she be?
     "Zenith! Listen to me!" Now Caelum was before her, his face was determined, his voice hard. "Zenith, you will have to adjust, but you will be able to -"
     "No! No! No!" Zenith wrenched herself from Caelum's grasp and stumbled across the room. With vicious movements she tore the letter into shreds and threw the pieces into the fire.
     "Niah is dead!" Not living in her. Not! Had this misplaced ghost always been hiding in her bodily spaces, waiting for a moment when she could - no! She could not even think it!
     "No!" Zenith screamed one last time and fled from the chamber.
     Caelum stood in the middle of his chamber, staring after her, trying to make sense of her reaction. It had been a shock, of course… but surely if she calmed down, thought it through, and accepted it, then it would be easier. Perhaps she'd best be left alone for a while. Perhaps all she needed was time.
     Then Caelum remembered how WolfStar had kissed RiverStar, and his eyes clouded over. Not RiverStar! No! Better Zenith, better by far. Zenith must learn to accept WolfStar, and WolfStar surely would not harm her if he loved her.
     But…
     "Leave her alone for a few days, WolfStar," he said into the empty room, but he spread the words over and through Tencendor with his power, seeking out the Enchanter. "Give her time."
     Somehow he felt, if not saw, WolfStar's predatory grin.
     Council of the Five Families The Great Hall of Sigholt sat silent, waiting, as the morning sun danced down through the high arched windows set among the massive roof beams. Banners, pennants and standards hung from walls and beams, their fields and borders rippling slightly in the warming air. From the windows the silvery-grey walls fell unfettered for twenty paces, eventually dividing into immense arched columns, behind which shifted the shadowy spaces of the cloisters. The floor was utterly bare, the newly scrubbed and sanded flagstones gleaming almost ivory in this bright light.
     In the very centre of the Hall sat a great circular golden oak table. Seven chairs were arranged about it.
     About eight paces from this great table, and between it and the empty fireplace, were arranged some three smaller tables, each draped with black cloth and with a dozen chairs behind them.
     The notaries were first to enter, their faces solemn with importance, their scarlet robes stiff with self-worth. Behind them came their secretaries - arms bustling with ledgers, accounts, papers, scrolls and the minutiae of a nation's life - and their scribes, carrying the quills and inkwells of final judgment. Finally there was a brief scuttling of messenger boys, too overcome with the occasion to be anything but round-eyed and obedient.
     Once the bureaucracy had arranged themselves at the black-draped tables, the messenger boys waiting behind them amid the columns, the honour guard entered. Three Wing of the Strike Force, unarmed, stood about the walls of the Great Hall, their black uniforms merging with the dimness behind the columns. When they were still, WingRidge led in twenty-five of the Lake Guard, who took a prominent position, standing in a ring ten paces back from the central circular table.
     All the Council needed now were the main actors.
     Of those, StarSon Caelum entered first. He wore black, as was his custom, but his face was far more careworn than usual. Without fuss he seated himself at the table. And then, in a procedure initiated by Caelum when he first assumed the Throne of the Stars, the heads of the Five Families entered simultaneously, each from a different door. They strode to the central table, their boot heels clicking, arriving to stand behind their chairs as simultaneously as they had entered the hall. All were unarmed, their swords left back in their chambers.
     They waited. From the central doors Isfrael emerged.
     As one they all turned to Caelum, and bowed.
     "I thank you for your attendance here this day," he said. "Be seated."
     Askam sat on Caelum's immediate right, Zared his left. FreeFall sat next to Askam, Isfrael next to Zared. Sa'Domai and Yllgaine took the seats immediately opposite Caelum. There was nothing on the table before the men, save their differences.
     "My friends," Caelum said in a voice that, although soft, was so well modulated it carried easily to the men at the table, and to the notaries and secretaries eight paces away. "I bid you welcome to Sigholt for this Council, and I express my regrets that it should be convened so hastily and so soon after our last Council.
     "However, as you are all aware, there are matters which need to be discussed and decided among us. Chief among these matters is the issue of the taxes that Prince Askam has been forced to levy on the West. Over the past few weeks Askam has imposed taxation on goods moved by land or water through his territory, as well as on those families deciding to emigrate to the North."
     "'Forced' is hardly the word I'd use," Zared muttered, his grey eyes on Askam.
     "I had every right to impose those taxes -" Askam began, but Caelum silenced them both with an angry look.
     "We are all aware of how onerous these taxes are," he said. "A third of the value of goods is… exorbitant. Ten thousand gold pieces per family moving north is incomprehensible."
     Zared relaxed slightly.
     "I wish to hear from the principals involved, then from Duke Theod and Earl Herme who were kind enough to ride to Sigholt to offer their views, then from the rest of you about this table. Askam, will you speak?"
     Askam took a deep breath. "My friends, I am as aware as any of you how draconian these taxes sound. However, consider my position. For years I have worked tirelessly on Tencendor's behalf, and on StarSon Caelum's behalf. These efforts have cost me dearly. My creditors push for the return of their funds. These taxes will clear the West of debt within two years -"
     "And two years is more than enough to drive your people into starvation, Askam!" Zared cried. "Curse you! There are better ways of raising revenue than stealing it from the mouths of those who can least afford to -"
     "Oh, god's arse, Zared!" Askam said. "This is all about you! Have you not been transporting your ore and gems and furs free of charge down to the southern markets at a handsome profit for decades? This talk of starving peasants is nonsense. Your purse has been dented - you who can well afford it - and thus you complain. I have not seen you spend more than a copper piece entertaining diplomats and foreign missions, nor founding the schools or universities that I have."
     "Be quiet, Askam," Caelum said, then shifted his eyes slightly. "Zared, Askam has got a point there. You have indeed made free use of his extensive system of roads and river boats for many years now."
     "I have paid full price for their passage, StarSon," Zared said.
     "Still, Askam does have the right to impose taxes on external goods moving through his territory. The fact is, he could have levied this tax only on your goods, not on those of his own people."
     Zared held his breath for a moment, then spoke very deliberately. "The fact is, Caelum, that Askam has imposed a tax which directly hurts the West, and indirectly hurts another province. And the… human… populations of the West and North feel that they have been inordinately imposed upon. If these taxes are the result of debt run up in your cause, Caelum, then why do not all the peoples of Tencendor help retrieve the situation?"
     "The Avar do not pay taxes," Isfrael said, very low.
     "And yet my people must!" Zared cried. "Can you not all of you see how dangerous this is? One race pays the debts of a nation of three races?"
     "Enough," Caelum said. "Before I ask the views of the Avar, Icarü and Ravensbund, I would have Herme and Theod enter."
     He nodded at the side tables, and one of the secretaries hurried to open the doors, whisper urgently, and escort the Duke and Earl to the table.
     Herme and Theod stood slightly to the right of Sa'Domai's chair, where all could see them. Both wore tightly restrained expressions, both avoided looking at either Askam or Zared.
     "Your views, gentlemen?" Caelum asked.
     Herme spoke first, detailing how the taxes had impacted upon his own county of Avonsdale. All had been crippled, not only those with business moving goods on the road, but even the lowly farmers or labourers who moved neither stock nor fodder from their land.
     "They can hardly afford food now, StarSon," Herme finished. "If they cannot grow it, then they certainly cannot buy it, for merchants have been forced to increase the cost of all merchandise to cover the taxes."
      Which naturally, Zared thought, then increases the taxes in direct proportion to the inflated value of the goods.
     Theod told a similar tale. The people of Jervois Landing, of whom almost all relied on trade to survive, would be destitute within the year. And yet they could look across the Nordra, look into eastern Tencendor under FreeFall's control, and see free markets, and round, rosy cheeks on the children.
     "As, of course, they can in the North," he said finally. "Many among the people of the West are moving north, and if they cannot afford to pay the border tax, then most of them will become homeless, destitute, and a burden on those already struggling to survive."
     "I thank you, gentlemen," Caelum said, just as Herme had opened his mouth to say something else. "You may retire."
     He waited until the doors had closed behind them, then he looked at Isfrael, FreeFall, Yllgaine and Sa'Domai. "My friends?"
     FreeFall spoke first. "There can be no doubt that these taxes are onerous, StarSon. But…"
     "But obviously something must be done to relieve Askam of the burden of debt he ran up in your service, Caelum," Yllgaine said. "The tax on goods moved through the West seems the best way to do it."
     Zared bit his tongue to keep his anger from spilling out in unreasoned words. Yllgaine undoubtedly would not want his trading rights taxed!
     Isfrael's only comment was to repeat that the Avar had never been taxed, and would not consent to being taxed now. "And how would they pay it? In twigs? In acorns?"
     Sa'Domai shrugged. "I can sympathise with Zared in that his people also suffer… but I note Askam's point that this debt was largely run up in Tencendor's service -"
     Zared could no longer contain himself. "And some appalling investments! Gloam mines, for the gods' sakes!"
     Caelum hit the table with the flat of his hand. "Be still, Zared! Or would you like to entertain the Corolean Ambassador and his train the next time he decides on a three-year stay?"
     Zared leaned back in his chair, his eyes carefully blank, listening to the conversation waft about him. Those of the Five not directly affected by the taxes first spoke of the weight of the taxes, then of Askam's pressing (and understandable) need for money.
     Caelum listened, nodded occasionally, and was careful not to give the impression that he was for one side or the other. Finally he held up his hand for silence.
     "The issue of placing a border tax on those families wishing to move north must also be resolved."
      "The issue is one of the freedom of a man to move his family to where they can eat, Caelum," Zared snapped, tired of the discussion, but not willing to let such an important point pass with no debate.
     "The issue," Askam shot back, "is whether or not you have the right to entice the most skilled of my workers and craftsmen north. I hear rumour that you pay well for such men to settle in Severin. Well enough, I think, to levy a tax on each of their departing heads for the troubles their loss causes me."
     "I pay them nothing! They journey north only because they know their families will have a future with -"
     "Enough!" Now Caelum stood, furious. "I have heard sufficient to judge in this matter."
     He sat down again, but his eyes were still flinty. "Askam. You may have the right to levy taxes as you will in the West, but you do not have the right to deprive people of the means of survival. Zared, your people have suffered too, and that is wrong, but what is also wrong is the fact that for many years… too many years, you have grown fat on the riches of Ichtar which you have shipped, free of any levy, to market via the West.
     "This is my judgment. The border tax must go. It is an injustice to so deprive people of their freedom of movement, their freedom of choice to move."
     "But -" Askam began.
     "However, I hope that my decision on the other tax will go some way to alleviate your financial troubles, Prince of the West. The third tax on goods carried through the West must be lowered to one-tenth, still onerous, but enough for your people to bear."
     Askam's face went dark with anger. How did that help him? A tenth would never bring in -
     "But, Askam," and Caelum's eyes slid fractionally towards him, "I am fully aware that most of your debt was accomplished in my service, and for that I am more than grateful. While the people of the West must only pay one-tenth in tax, anyone else moving their goods through the West must pay half value in levy."
     Zared's mouth dropped open in astonishment. What was Caelum doing? "No-one else moves goods through the West save the people of the North," he finally managed. "That is a tax aimed directly at me and mine!"
     Caelum turned to look him full in the eye. "And when have you run into debt to aid me, Zared? When? This is a fair way, as I see it, of making sure that all contribute towards -"
     "But none of them have to pay!" Zared shouted, flinging an angry arm at the others. "When do they contribute towards -"
     "Are you asking what the Icarü contribute?" Caelum seethed, "when they spent a thousand years in exile due to… due to…"
     Due to your people. Caelum may not have spoken the words, but all heard his thoughts in their minds.
     "Do you ask what Nor contributes, when for a thousand years his family maintained the Island of Mist and Memory?"
     And for a thousand years your people desecrated every sacred site in Tencendor they could lay a plough to?
     "Do you ask what the Avar contribute, when they had to watch their homelands slaughtered, their children burned?"
     And for a thousand years your people took the axe to every tree they could find, and murdered those who did not conform to the Way of the Plough?
     Zared had gone white with shock. He stared at Caelum, absolutely incapable of speech.
     How could Caelum send those thoughts careering through all of their heads, and still claim that he didn't want the term "Acharite" used because it stank of the hatreds of the past?
     Caelum held his stare, then waved one of the Lake Guard over. "Bring in the Princess Leagh," he said.
     "No," whispered Zared. "Not after that, not -"
     The doors opened, and Leagh walked in. She had dressed herself in a gown of silk that precisely matched the grey of Zared's eyes, and h^r face was as ashen as his, for she had heard the shouting of the previous minutes.
     Even so, she was composed, and she did not tremble or falter as she curtsied before Caelum. "StarSon."
     "Princess Leagh," Caelum said, his tone now far more gentle. "You and Zared are aware of why I have called you here."
     She stood, and gazed calmly at him. "I am, StarSon. Is it yea or nay?"
     Caelum was taken aback at such bluntness. He had meant to put this matter before the entire Council as well, even though he had made up his mind weeks ago, because he'd felt that both Zared and Leagh would take it better if his decision was backed by the weight of the Council.
     But after the previous "discussion", Caelum did not trust this gathering, nor even himself, to be able to keep a debate calm and reasoned.
     "Leagh… Zared," he risked a quick glance at Zared, but turned back to Leagh. "Leagh, it is nay. It must be nay. There are good reasons for my -"
     He got no further. Zared leapt to his feet. "Good reasons, Caelum? Good reasons to deny Leagh and myself our hearts' desire? Why? Is there a tax on her I have neglected to pay?"
     He turned to Askam. "How much, man? A third? A half?"
     Askam leaped to his feet, his chair crashing behind him. He made as if to lunge across the table, but FreeFall was quick enough, and strong enough, to seize his arm and drag him back.
     "Peace!" Caelum shouted. He signalled one of the Lake Guard. "Please escort the Princess Leagh from this Hall. I have words to speak that I would not like her to hear."
     Leagh shot one frightened, stricken look at Zared, but then the birdman had her by the elbow and was pulling her back.
     "Leagh!" Zared cried, but he was restrained by Isfrael, and the door closed behind Leagh with no further word or look being exchanged.
     Caelum whipped about to face Zared. "You have gone too far, Prince!"
     As have you, Zared thought. He was icy calm now, and he shook off Isfrael's hold.
     Caelum sat down. "I will close this Council within minutes, Zared, but first I need to say that -"
     "You cannot close this Council yet," Zared said. "There is one more item of business we need to discuss."
     Caelum stared at him. "And what might that be?"
     "We need," Zared said, his hand absently hovering where his sword normally hung from his weapons belt, "to discuss restoring the throne of Achar."
     The Throne of Actor The entire Hall was silent, stunned. The notaries and secretaries had paused in their incessant hunt for precedents in their documents to stare open-mouthed at the central table. The scribes' quills had dipped unnoticed to scratch uselessly against cloth instead of parchment. The messenger boys were rigid with terror, incapable of moving.
     The guards, already rigid and expressionless, still somehow managed to register their outrage.
     Restore the throne of Achar?
     "And so now the traitor speaks," Askam said softly into the silence. "Is this what you have wanted all along, Zared? Is this the reason you so pursued Leagh?"
     "I am no traitor," Zared said, just as quietly, "to want for the Acharites what every other race in Tencendor has - their own head. Their own pride."
     "Sit down, Zared," Caelum said. Nothing about his demeanour revealed the intense shock, even fear, Zared's words had caused.
     Caelum set his hands flat on the table before him, stared at them a long moment, then raised his eyes to the six men about the table. "Speak to me," he said.
     "Well," Yllgaine said, "technically this conversation is academic only. The throne of Achar no longer exists. It is a relic of the past. It cannot be revived."
     "Achar no longer exists!" Askam exclaimed. His body was stiff with outrage, his eyes bright with indignant anger. As Prince of the West, Askam had the most to lose if the realm of Achar was recreated. Achar had once covered most of the territory he now governed, and had included Carlon, the richest and most populous city in Tencendor. "And thus the 'Acharites' don't exist. Have you not read your Edicts of the First Year of StarSon Caelum's Reign, Zared?"
     Zared ignored him. "This is not how I wished to raise the issue -" he began, when Caelum interrupted.
     "Nevertheless, this is how you raised it! I - nay, all of us here at this table - would be grateful if you would enlighten us as to the motives… the desires… behind your words."
     "But now that the issue has been raised," Zared continued regardless, refusing to look at Caelum, "may I speak without interruption?"
     Askam started to say something more, but Caelum held up his hand for silence. "Let him speak."
     "My friends, when Axis reunited Tencendor he righted a massive wrong. I cannot deny that. Former Acharite kings and the Seneschal had riven the ancient realm apart with their lies and hatred. Borneheld only made matters worse, and I have no quarrel with the fact that Axis killed our brother in fair duel in the Chamber of the Moons in Carlon.
     "But I do have some reservations about his choices immediately after winning that duel. He reproclaimed Tencendor, yes, but in doing so he destroyed the ancient kingdom of Achar."
     "It had no place in Tencendor!" Askam said, looking about the table for support. "It was ever an aberration!"
     Two or three other heads about the table nodded.
     "Peace," Caelum said, laying a hand on Askam's arm. "Let us hear what Zared has to say." His eyes were very watchful.
     "That day on the shores of Grail Lake," Zared continued, "Axis proclaimed Tencendor and created the Five Families representing .the Icarü, Ravensbund and Acharite races."
     "Human races," Yllgaine murmured. Zared ignored the interruption.
     "He created the House of the Stars as supreme over all others, and created the Throne of the Stars, the throne that you now sit, Caelum. Supreme over Tencendor, below only the Star Gods themselves.
     "But," Zared's tone became harsher, and he leaned forward slightly, "Axis left the Icarü with their Talon," he nodded at FreeFall, "he left the Ravensbund with their Chieftain," he indicated Sa'Domai, "and he eventually gave the Avar their own Mage-King, Isfrael.
     "What this means," Zared's tone now hardened, "is that all races in Tencendor, all cultural groups, if you prefer that phrase, have a 'king', save the Acharites - and, yes! I insist on using that term! Both their throne and their identity was destroyed. Damn it, you have even banned the word 'Acharite'! Caelum, whether you want to hear it or not, that has created dissent and distrust among the Acharites."
     "Nonsense!" Askam looked angrily at Zared. "I am Prince of the West, and you Prince of the North, Zared. Between us we provide the Acharites - the peoples of the West and North, dammit! - all the royalty they need. This talk of the throne of Achar is -"
     "Necessary!" Zared said.
     Askam slammed his fist on the table, but before he could speak Caelum shouted, "Enough!
     "Enough," he repeated in a more reasonable tone. He waited until Askam and Zared had calmed themselves. "Zared, what exactly are you saying?"
     "I am saying that the Acharites have paid enough," he said. "They do not have to keep on paying. They look about and they see that all other racial groups have their kings and leaders, but the Acharites have been denied that right. They look about and they see that they are the only ones to carry any heavy burden of taxes. Caelum, they are feeling persecuted. That is dangerous. Very dangerous."
     "So what are you saying that you want?" Caelum said very quietly, his gaze riveted on Zared's face.
     "I, as so many of the Acharites, want the throne of Achar restored."
     Utter silence greeted his words.
     Finally FreeFall dropped his head into his hand, rubbed the bridge of his nose, then looked up. "Axis should have foreseen this," he said quietly.
     "Listen," Zared said, "I want only for the Acharites what every other race in Tencendor has got - its own leadership, its own pride. As with every other race and seat of power, the throne of Achar would be subject to the Throne of the Stars. To you, Caelum. I am in no way disputing your claim to overlordship."
     "And I suppose you want all the land west of the Nordra back to go with your throne, Zared! And Carlon! And the palace in Carlon!" Askam yelled.
     No-one missed Askam's inflection of the "your".
     "No, I do not, Askam," Zared said hurriedly. "There is no need to give up any land or any of your power. A ceremonial throne, nothing more. But something to give the Acharites their pride back."
     "And when they have their pride, will they again take up their axes and come after the Avar and the Icarü?" Isfrael asked.
     "There was no need for that remark!" Zared retorted. "The Wars of the Axe are long gone, Isfrael. The Seneschal is dead. I talk only of resurrecting a people's self-worth, not of ancient hatreds. Do not confuse my request with the mistakes of the past."
     "And I say there was every need for that remark!" Isfrael's lips curled, as if he were about to snarl. "The 'Acharites' have been feeling persecuted for how long? Forty years, if that? Why don't you ask FreeFall, Zared, or any one of my people, what it was like to be repressed for a thousand years! What it was like to have to haunt the shadows and the ice caves to escape the murderous axes of your… of the Acharites! And why not let Sa'Domai speak of the generations his people were reviled as carrion-eating barbarians? I feel no pity for your cause."
     His last words came out almost as a growl, and everyone at the table stared at him, mesmerised by his wild anger.
     Caelum finally dropped his eyes to the table where he traced a forefinger through imaginary dust on its gleaming surface. "Are you saying you want to be King of Achar, Zared?"
     Zared just stared at him.
     Caelum raised his eyes, very calm now. "The line is dead, Zared. It died with Borneheld on the floor of the Chamber of the Moons."
     "No," Zared said quietly. "The line lives. There is a legitimate heir. I am the only son of the Princess Royal's only legitimate marriage! Borneheld was illegitimate, Axis is illegitimate, and I -"
     "You can't prove Rivkah's marriage to Magariz," Askam said. "There are no records."
     "Does anyone at this table call Rivkah a liar?" Zared asked, his eyebrows raised.
     Silence again, and eyes dropped to the table. Both Rivkah and Magariz had been honourable people. No-one doubted their claim to their teenage marriage.
     "So," Caelum said very slowly, back to his irritating play with his forefinger. "Zared wants the circlet and ring of office back."
     Zared gave a bark of harsh laughter. "I have the circlet and the ring, Caelum! Did you forget that Axis gave both to Rivkah? What I am asking is that you give the throne back to the Acharites."
     "It's too dangerous, Zared. You must realise that."
     "Dangerous to whom., Caelum? Can you not see that it is dangerous if you do not give it back?"
     "No wonder you want my sister," Askam said. "She would almost guarantee you the entire territories of Achar."
     "Not if you weren't so lax about getting yourself an heir, Askam."
     Askam leapt to his feet, as did Caelum, who had to physically restrain the Prince. "Askam, sit down! I command it!"
     Askam sank resentfully back in his chair. "And as ever again," he muttered, "the devious brother from Ichtar shall seize the throne of Achar."
     "That is enough!" Caelum shouted, then turned back to Zared. "Have you no idea what dissent you have created with your request, Zared? Have you no idea of the fears you have resurrected?"
     He threw a hand about him. "Stars damn you! Look at what has happened about this table, then multiply that one hundred thousand times!"
     "I know only of the dissent and anger that will be roused if you refuse, Caelum." Zared paused. "I can see that I have created uncertainty and discomfort among my fellows - for that I express my regrets. But I do not regret having mooted the possibility of a restored King of Achar. It should have been discussed years ago."
     "Zared, if you will remain silent a few minutes," Caelum said, then he took a deep breath and looked about the table. "Talk to me."
     Sa'Domai raised his eyebrows, and Caelum nodded at him.
     "Zared has a point," the Ravensbund chief said. At Askam's irritated gesture, Sa'Domai hurried on. "Certainly regarding the human population feeling victimised, and probably about the need for a throne as well. What he says makes sense, and yet I understand the concerns that go with the idea of a restored Acharite King."
     Askam scowled at him, wondering if Zared had paid the Ravensbund Chief for those words.
     "FreeFall?" Caelum asked. "What do you say?"
     The Talon of the Icarü hesitated. He had never foreseen the possible resurrection of Achar, and the thought filled him with foreboding. Yet he liked and respected Zared. Trusted him. But what if, several generations into the future, another Borneheld was born? Or if the Acharites, having got their throne back, started to hunger once again for the Seneschal? Could he accede to a request which might eventually result in yet another devastating civil war? Another forest burning? Another exile for the Icarü?
     "I say the restored throne is too dangerous," he said. "It is too soon. The scars of the past could too easily reopen. Achar is best left a memory."
     Askam nodded. "Yes. Exactly."