"Good. Silton? Narcis? Your places, if you please. WolfStar," Adamon turned to the Enchanter, who had remained calm in the face of all the anger directed his way, "how is it that the Rainbow Sceptre can help the Demons move so fast?"
     "Because it is in large part composed of the power of the craft of the ancient ones. I assume the Demons are using that power to catapult themselves forward." "How do you know that Drago has the Sceptre?" WolfStar explained about the message Orr had sent from the Star Gate chamber. He recalled SpikeFeather's vision for them, and the Star Gods watched in horror as Drago fought Orr, then killed him with the Sceptre.
     "The Sceptre has gone from Sigholt, Axis," WolfStar said. "Of course, if the enchantments that were supposed to hide it had been worked better -"
     "Enough, WolfStar!" Adamon snapped. "But we did not know that Drago stepped through the Star Gate -"
     "Faraday was there," Axis put in, his voice quiet. "Did you not see her watching from the pillars?"
     "Yes," WolfStar said. "Faraday was there. She is now on the Island of Mist and Memory, inhabiting her human form once again."
     Axis and Azhure both jumped. With StarDrifter? "And you saw her?" Adamon asked. "Yes. She…" WolfStar hesitated, "she said that Drago fled through one of the passageways after murdering Orr. She said he must still be in Tencendor. But I do not believe her. I think she is lying to protect Drago."
     "Why would she do that?" Azhure asked. "She has no reason to like or admire him."
     "I do not know why, Azhure. But Faraday was lying, I am sure of it, and I think the certain proof lies in the trail of darkness we can see spreading through the stars. The Demons are on their way. Suddenly. With such power and vigour as they have never shown previously. I can only assume that, yes, Drago has passed over the Rainbow Sceptre to them."
     "He ever had a twisted mind!" Axis said viciously. "Look, Azhure! Look at what he has done now! Subduing his Enchanter powers did nothing. You should have -"
     "Killed him?" Azhure cried. "Do you think you could kill your own flesh and blood?"
     "I disown him as my flesh and blood," Axis said, more angry than Azhure had ever seen him. "And yes, I could kill him for what he has tried to do to my family, for what he has done to my family, and what he will do to Tencendor! My friends," Axis looked about the circle, "don't you understand what will happen if these TimeKeepers come close enough to block out the Star Dance completely? They will ravage at will! No-one will be able to stop them!"
     He threw a furious look at WolfStar. "Is this your mad, bad blood outing itself, renegade? Is this your virulent inheritance tearing apart my family and my land? Did I fight for nothing? Did -"
     "I have had nothing to do with either the Demons or with Drago's actions!" WolfStar cried. "I will tear him apart myself should I meet him before you!" He gained some control of himself and lowered his tone. "Believe me, Axis, all I ever wanted was the best for this land. For Tencendor."
     "Again, enough," Adamon said. "WolfStar, all about this fire can see what these Demons do to the stars. There is a wake of such sadness behind them that I wonder what they will do to Tencendor if they manage to come through the Star Gate."
     "Without Qeteb they will wrap this land and its peoples in disease, starvation, storms, depair and terror such as it has never seen before, not even under Gorgrael. With Qeteb to lead them, the TimeKeeper Demons will turn Tencendor into a dark wasteland, all its people slaves - automatons - to their whims. And, as Axis said, without the power of the Star Dance behind us, none of us can stop them."
     "None of us?" Axis asked, once again in control of himself. "Then is there nothing that can be done to counter them? Did these ancient ones, the Demons'
     'Enemy', leave us any means by which to protect ourselves against the cargo they left among us?"
     WolfStar nodded. "In a manner, yes. Each site is protected by a series of measures against the Demons returning to recover Qeteb's life parts. The site under Grail Lake is the most heavily protected of all, for it is there that Qeteb's soul is buried. In a cavern beneath the lake lies a Maze - an extension of the craft that has grown there during the thousands of years since it crashed."
     "Grown? Grown?" Azhure said. "Explain."
     WolfStar was silent for a while, trying to find a way to convey what these craft actually were. "I do not understand them completely, Azhure. All I can say is that these craft are not dead, but neither are they alive. They are aware of the world and of the circumstances about them. Let me explain. In this cavern under Grail Lake lies the Maze. It protects Qeteb's soul and is, in its own way, highly magical. A massive gate protects the entranceway to the Maze. About this gate is a stone arch, and on this arch are characters that explain what measures can be taken against Qeteb. For aeons the gate made only vague mention of a champion it referred to as the Crusader. Then, forty years ago, the gate named the champion."
     "Who?" Adamon asked.
     Everyone save WolfStar looked at Axis.
     "Caelum," WolfStar said.
     "Caelum?" Axis said. "But surely ,' would be better -"
     "No, Axis," WolfStar said firmly. "The Maze clearly states that Caelum StarSon is the one who can best protect Tencendor. StarSon, it says. Ah." His entire face softened. "It knew even before you proclaimed Caelum your heir and gave him the title StarSon outside Tencendor. Axis, Azhure, you have bred the champion."
     "WolfStar," Axis asked very softly as horrid realisation hit him, "was it the Maze which taught you the Prophecy?"
     "Yes."
     Axis found it difficult to ask the next question. "Are you telling us that the Prophecy was a manipulation designed primarily to breed the Maze its champion?"
     "Yes. And to create the circumstances and environment that would shape him into the Crusader the Maze wanted."
     Axis stared at WolfStar, appalled. Had he and Azhure fought through so much only to provide the Maze with suitable breeding stock?
     "There is always a deeper purpose to every life," Adamon said softly. "And to breed a son like Caelum is a purpose worthy enough, surely."
     "But we have also bred the traitor to undermine his chances," Azhure said bitterly. She remembered the Beltide night when she and Axis conceived Caelum. She remembered how she'd been caught up in a magic far more powerful than herself. Had the Maze been there, twisting and manipulating? Had they had no free will that night? "Why would Drago have done such a thing? Why?"
     "He had been sentenced to death," Pors said emotionlessly. "He chose the best means he could to save himself."
     "I do not care what should have been done about Drago in the past," Adamon said, "or what mistakes were made in his upbringing. What we all need to do now is to consider how best to cope should these Demons come through the Star Gate."
     "We must help Caelum," Azhure said. "Train him as best we can. Axis, surely you would be best for that."
     "As I," WolfStar put in, and stared at Axis.
     Axis conceded. "As all of us. I do not know how well Caelum will cope… he has had so little experience…"
     "There is one thing more I should tell you," WolfStar said. "One more thing that Caelum will need to use against Qeteb."
     "Yes?" Adamon asked.
     "The Rainbow Sceptre. The Maze clearly connects the StarSon with the Sceptre. Again and again the symbols for the StarSon and the Sceptre are intertwined, made as if they are one. No doubt Caelum must wield the Sceptre to drive back the TimeKeeper Demons, or to defeat Qeteb should he be reconstituted."
     Axis laughed harshly. "Well, then, why don't we just prepare a greeting party with wine and food at the Star Gate? Drago has betrayed his brother and Tencendor with consummate skill. We are doomed."
     WolfStar shrugged a little. "Axis, we need to train Caelum, and he needs the Rainbow Sceptre."
     "Oh?" Adamon said. "Do you suggest that we go through the Star Gate after it? None of us," he waved at the other Star Gods, "can do it, for we are so peculiarly tied to this world. Who else… you?"
     WolfStar shuddered. "No, not me. Our only chance to regain it is when the Demons come through the Star Gate - «,'the Demons bring it back with them."
     "We wait until they are here?" Axis said.
     WolfStar nodded. "If we cannot stop them beforehand, then that is the only option left to us. And then to find some means to snatch it back. I'm sorry. It's all we can do."
     "But how can we combat them for the Sceptre?" Azhure cried, despair all over her face. "By the time the TimeKeeper Demons are here they will have completely blocked out the Star Dance. We will be as ants before their power! And Caelum? What chance has he against these Demons with all his power gone? I can't see -"
     "Azhure, my dear, be calm," WolfStar said gently. "We will get the Sceptre back for Caelum. By whatever means we can."
     Ms Grove Faraday paused at the door to Niah's room, listened, then pushed it open. She moved wrapped in an aura of dream, so she made no sound, and she was virtually indistinguishable from the shadows. Every day Faraday found different uses for her newly enriched power, and this current trick was a most useful accomplishment.
     The room was dark, filled only with the sound of sleep. Faraday stood a while, catching her bearings, learning the layout of the room, memorising the patterns of the bed, chests, hanging robes and mirrors.
     Then she moved silently towards the bed.
     Niah lay there. Alone. Faraday had more than expected to find WolfStar here tangled with her, their bodies a mass of damp flesh and twisted feathers. But WolfStar had abandoned his lover for this night. No matter. Faraday could act whether WolfStar was here or not.
     She sat on a stool by the bed and watched Niah sleep. The woman slept awkwardly, not sure what to do with her wings. They hung to either side of the bed, drifting across the floor, Niah's naked body pale and vulnerable in the faint moonlight. Waiting, perhaps, in case WolfStar found the time to visit.
     Faraday's eyes rested on Niah's belly. There was only the faintest suggestion of a roundness there - it was far too early in the pregnancy for any noticeable swelling yet. Faraday leaned forward, and placed both her hands on Niah's belly.
     The woman stirred, and Faraday whispered soothingly to her, quieting her, sending her deeper into sleep.
     Once Niah had stilled, her breathing now so quiet and slow Faraday knew she was lost in her dreams again, she began to knead her fingers into Niah's belly. Probing. Deep. Looking, sensing, for the baby.
     There. The slight hardness of the thickened walls of her womb. All depended on… yes! Faraday sensed the life force growing there. A girl child. Good. Very good.
     "What a lovely baby," she whispered. "So healthy. Such a willing receptacle."
     Then she lifted her hands from Niah's body and sat back. She opened her mind to dream, seeking that which was lost.
     She opened her mind to Niah's Grove. Of course. Here Zenith had last drawn breath, here Niah's old body mouldered, here Niah had finally consumed Zenith altogether.
     Faraday looked about the grove that she could see in the shadow-lands of dream. Like all things in the shadow-lands, the grove was insubstantial. The forest faded in and out of view beyond the ring of nine great trees. Faraday had planted these trees herself to honour Niah's memory, and now she regarded them wryly. Perhaps she should not have been so willing. This grove and this grave had harboured Niah's spirit as a scabbed wound harbours infection.
     Here Zenith had lost her fight.
     Faraday wandered slowly about the grassy ring. Moonwildflowers grew here in abandon, thicker around the centre. Here Axis had brought Isfrael to see her. Here Azhure had wept over her lost mother. Here. On the site of Smyrton.
     Perhaps we should have left it, Faraday thought. She remembered the day Azhure had loosed her power to raze Smyrton to the ground. She remembered the foul wind that had swept over them. Infection again. Had it befouled Niah, tied to this spot… waiting, waiting, waiting?
     She raised her head and looked about. "Zenith?" she whispered, the whisper echoing strangely about the trees. "Zenith?"
     There was nothing, but Faraday was patient. If there still was a Zenith, then here she would be.
     "Zenith?"
     Faraday sat in the very centre of the grove, ringed by Moonwildflowers, and waited. She sat, and absorbed the stillness of the shadow-forest about her, and listened to the air as it moved damply about her.
     A movement. There, to her left.
     Very, very slowly, for Zenith must be truly lost and frightened, Faraday turned her head towards the movement and smiled. After a moment, she lifted her arm and held out her hand, palm uppermost.
     Zenith.
     "I do not know where I am."
     Zenith, come sit with me.
     Another movement, stronger this time, and a form rose from the grass at the edge of the trees. It was wraith-like, almost apologetic, but it was Zenith's form.
     "I am lost."
     "Surely, sweetheart." Now Faraday used her speaking voice, and widened her smile. "Come to me. Let me show you the way home."
     The form drifted towards her. She wrung her hands, and tears slid down her cheeks. "I do not know what to do."
     "Here." Faraday patted the grass. "There is space here."
     The form drifted across and sank down beside Faraday. She was so ethereal that Faraday thought gossamer would seem like iron scaffolding beside her.
     Zenith. There was not much of her left. Niah had almost won. A week or two more, and she would have won.
     Faraday folded her hands in her lap and gazed serenely at this apparition. "Poor Zenith. Would you like me to show you the way home?"
     "Who are you?"
     "Oh!" Faraday almost forgot herself and laughed, but she stifled her merriment before it could find voice and frighten Zenith away. Zenith had never seen her, and had never known her human form.
     "I am Faraday, Zenith. Once Duchess of Ichtar, once Queen of Achar, now just Faraday, owner of her own soul and destiny."
     The apparition smiled wistfully. "To own your own soul and destiny… that must be true happiness."
     "Ah, it is, Zenith, it is. I was bound by the Prophecy of the Destroyer, bound by my guardianship of the trees, bound by the Mother and by my love for your father for too long. Now I am free."
     What was left of Zenith nodded. "I am glad, Faraday. I did not envy your role in the Prophecy."
     "And I would that you be free, too. Do you want that?"
     "Niah is too strong. I tried to fight her… but she was so tenacious, so determined."
     "She had the strength of the grave behind her, my dear, and you could not fight that. You did not have that experience. Then. Now, of course, Niah has made a ghastly mistake in banishing you to the one place where you can obtain the experience and yet still return. Zenith," Faraday's tone turned brusque, "I have a plan."
     "Good," Zenith said, and her tone finally made Faraday laugh.
     "Yes, extremely good. Niah has taken your body to the Island of Mist and Memory. There she continues to deepen her affair with WolfStar -"
     Zenith turned her head aside.
     "- and grows his child within your womb. Zenith, that child will be your saviour."
     "I do not want it!"
     "Undoubtedly not. It is a product of rape - who could love a child of that? And who knows what WolfStar and Niah can breed between them? Listen to me, Zenith. You must fight."
     "How?"
     "Can you still feel Niah? Feel the presence of her?"
     Zenith nodded.
     "Very well. Eventually we will use that child for our own ends, and that infant girl shall be your saviour. But first we must get you back to your body. Back to what Niah has claimed."
     "I don't understand."
      "Zenith, this shadow-grove is but one part of the shadow-lands that mimic entirely the world of waking. We can travel through these lands, travel towards the shadow dormitory of the priestesses where lies Niah."
     Zenith looked puzzled, but that puzzlement was underlaid with hope. "Tonight?"
     Faraday smiled sadly. "Nay, child, not in one night, although we will make a start tonight. It will take us many, many nights. But get there we will, and we must get there before some other spirit inhabits the baby-child within Niah."
     "How long do I have?"
     "A month perhaps. I shall come back each night and help you."
     "A month only to walk to the Island of Mist and Memory?"
     "Every step we take in the shadow-lands equals fifteen in the world of waking. We travel much faster here." Faraday smiled wryly. "It is one of the advantages of wraithdom, I suppose."
     "Then we had best begin."
     Faraday stood, then helped the Zenith-apparition to her feet. "My dear, the closer we get to the Island of Mist and Memory, the harder Niah will fight."
     "She will be aware that I approach?"
     "Not as such - that's why we move at night, only when she sleeps - but she will know something is wrong. Her own sleep-mind will raise barriers for you, try to prevent you. Zenith, there will come a time when each step you take towards the island will be agonising. It will go on for night after night. Can you face that?"
     Zenith laughed, low and bitter. "Do I want life? Come Faraday, let me lean on you, and we shall take this first step."
     s (till nothing from our rear?" Zared asked Theod yet again as they sat their horses a half-hour's ride north-east of Carlon.
     "No, my Prince," Theod said. "Caelum must be suffering from shock. He has not sent so much as a scout after us. Not," he said glumly, "that he has many to send."
     Zared turned away from Theod, his thoughts bleak. When Theod had caught him up with the devastating news that Caelum had ridden his force straight into Kastaleon without so much as a dog to scout the place out, and had thus suffered the full force of the explosion, Zared had blanched.
     "How many?" he had asked quietly.
     "Between three and four thousand dead at least, my Prince. And scores more injured nigh unto death."
      "Caelum?"
     Theod had not known, but Zared refused, refused, to consider Caelum dead. Besides, had Caelum died Axis would surely have known and acted.
     Why in the name of every god in existence hadn't Caelum sent in a scouting party first?
     Zared had been prepared to risk five or six deaths, much as he regretted them, but he had yet to come to terms with the horror of three or four thousand dead. All he'd wanted to do was destroy Kastaleon and hold Caelum up for a few days. What he had done was create a situation where war was unavoidable.
     His hands were tied, and through his own action. He could either surrender himself - an idea anathema to the proud Zared - or he could work to make his position unassailable.
     His doubts had been blown away as forcibly as most of Caelum's force. He now had no choice. He must make himself King of Achar, with Leagh at his side. Once King he could hopefully rally the support of hundreds of thousands of Acharites feverishly loyal to their resurrected monarch.
     Even Caelum might think twice about setting the Strike Force on the entire West and North.
     At the least, Zared thought with only the tiniest degree of humour, he might think about sending in a scouting party first. Frankly, Zared was amazed that six days after the destruction of Kastaleon, the Icarü Strike Force was still not yet wheeling down on him from the sky.
     "I would have set everything I had after me had ,' been Caelum," he muttered. "What in the name of all gods is he up to?"
     They had moved south fast from Kastaleon. Desperately fast. They'd ridden a day, then commandeered river boats to carry them towards Carlon. This morning Zared had ordered the boats to put to shore, and land his men so they could ride the final league.
      Zared hoped that Goldman had been right in saying Carlon would support him, and that western Tencendor would rise up to back his claim to the throne. The last thing he needed was to ride into an apathetic city.
     "She still does not know?" Theod said softly beside Zared, breaking his thoughts.
     Zared glanced over his shoulder. Leagh was several lengths behind him, riding with Herme. Zared reined his horse closer to Theod's.
     "No. I have not liked to tell her. Who knows if Askam lives or dies? It would be cruel to tell her."
     Theod looked at him with concern, thinking to say more, but Zared's gaze was now fixed on the road before them.
     "Look! Is that Goldman?"
     A group of five horsemen had ridden from Carlon's gates, still some three hundred paces distant. Two outriders carried poles from which fluttered pennants and standards.
     "Look," Theod said, "they bear the standards of Carlon… and of Zared, Prince of the North."
     Zared felt his muscles relax a little; he had not realised he was so tense until this moment. He pulled in his own horse, then waved his column to a halt.
     There was a movement to his side, and Herme and Leagh rode up.
     "Goldman," Zared said, indicating the riders, but Leagh said nothing.
     The group of riders covered the distance to Zared at a brisk canter. It was indeed Jannymire Goldman, with four well-dressed companions.
     "Prince Zared," Goldman said, reining his horse to a halt three paces from Zared, "I offered the support of the traders and guilds of Carlon, and here it is. May I present Mayor Gregoric Sandmeyer, and the Guild Masters of the Wool, Fish and Grain merchants' guilds."
     Zared raised his eyebrows. A powerful coterie indeed. "And do you also present me Carlon, Master Goldman and Mayor Sandmeyer? I have at my back a force of some five hundred men. Hardly enough to overrun Carlon's walls should I be forced to do so."
     "I think you will hardly be 'forced', Prince," Sandmeyer said, bowing deeply from his saddle. He was a barrel-chested man, with strong features and startling eyes. "Carlon - indeed, Achar - eagerly awaits you."
     Then he turned to Leagh, and offered her another, if smaller, bow. "My Princess, I am glad to see you again. It has been too long. And you ride by Prince Zared's side. If I may be so bold, for many know that the Prince has been petitioning for your hand for many a long year, may I ask if you ride as his wife?"
     "Not yet," she said shortly. Sandmeyer was being too forward. "I have yet to come to a decision."
     "I see," Sandmeyer said softly, and looked at Goldman.
     "I think, Princess," Goldman said, "that Carlon's reception may make your decision a little easier for you."
     Zared had hoped Goldman would organise a welcoming crowd, but he had never envisioned the tumultuous welcome that Carlon put on for him.
     As they urged their horses forward, Zared became aware of a muted roar. Initially it puzzled him, but as he drew closer to the main gates he realised - with absolute astonishment - that it was the thunder of a crowd tens of thousands strong.
     He looked at Leagh - they now rode side by side at the head of the column, the others having drawn back -and saw that her face was pale, as astonished as his.
     And then they were inside the gates, and inside a maelstrom.
     The noise of the crowd was overwhelming, and Zared had to grab at the bridle of Leagh's mare as it shied in fright. One of Carlon's militiamen ran forward, and took it from him, and Zared leaned back in the saddle, trying to absorb the sights and sounds before him.
     Carlon's streets were lined ten-deep with people. Others crowded balconies and roofs. Everyone was waving something, whether ribbons or pennants or banners; some were the rose and gold of his familial standard, others were the royal blue and scarlet of the Acharite throne.
     As one, they roared his name.
     "Zared! Zared! Zared!"
     Atop the shouts of the crowd came the trumpeting of horns - scores of them - and the beating of drums and the clashing of cymbals. The noised bounced off walls, echoing wildly through the streets and then into the sky.
     Zared stared, then he laughed, almost overwhelmed with the emotion poured out in his welcome. He spurred his horse forward and waved, and the noise, if possible, tripled.
     Leagh, riding at a more sedate pace behind him, was utterly stunned. She could hardly comprehend the sights and the sounds. She had seen nothing like this before. Nothing. Even Caelum's crowning on the shores of Grail Lake had been a sedate seventh-day picnic compared to this.
     Askam had never pulled a crowd of more than a thousand onto the streets, but Leagh thought that Carlon's entire sixty thousand must have abandoned home and work and school to pay homage to Zared.
     And that was what it was, she realised. Homage, not welcome.
     Before her the crowd surged, trying to follow Zared's progress. He had been mobbed, but did not seem afraid. Instead he was laughing, and leaning down from his horse, grabbing hands, touching faces.
     "King Zared!" the crowd now roared. "King Zaredr Then the mob were crowding her, too, and she heard them call out her name.
     "Leagh! Leagh! Queen Leagh!"
     Some ten paces in front of her, separated by hundreds of people, Zared swung his horse about and caught her eye.
     Leagh stared at him, shaking. She had never realised… never realised…
     They were led, eventually, to the dazzling ancient Icarü palace on the highest hill in the city.
     Not to the Prince's palace.
     The Icarü palace had been the one used by the former Kings of Achar, passing into the hands of the SunSoar family once Axis had destroyed the throne.
     Now, apparently, it would again be used by an Acharite king.
     There, in the Chamber of the Moons, Carlon had prepared a reception for Zared that was only slightly less restrained than the street welcome.
     On the dais sat a throne, a perfect replica of the ancient throne of the Acharite kings. Leagh stared at it in amazement - how long had they been preparing for Zared? The throne was the patient work of a master craftsman, several masters, for exquisite wooden carvings had inlays of gold and silver and scatterings of precious gems.
     How had I never known? she thought to herself, still dazed, as Zared took her arm and led her to the dais. How had I never known?
     Zared would not use the throne, saying it could wait until he was crowned, but he stood on the dais, Leagh at his side, Herme, Theod, Goldman and Sandmeyer slightly behind him, and received the well-wishers of Carlon.
     First there were representatives from the guilds, all of whom knelt before Zared and promised him their support.
     The city militia stood forth and did likewise.
     Representatives from each of the major blocks of Carlon came forward, some with their wives and children, and proffered their support.
     And from the nearer rural areas came the rural guild masters, there, as all the others, to offer Zared their wishes and their loyalty.
     Leagh was a little amazed that even the rats had not sallied forth from their sewers to pledge their allegiance as well.
     "Prince Zared," Goldman finally said, standing forth so that he could address Zared. "Have you any doubts as to the loyalty of your people?"
     "No, good Goldman," Zared said softly. "This is more than I ever dreamed possible."
     "Do you have any doubts as to their wishes, my Prince?"
     "No, Goldman. I do not."
     In a dramatic gesture, Goldman dropped to one knee, put a hand over his heart, and dipped his head in obeisance.
     "Zared, will you accept the loyalty of your people? Will you accept the wishes? Will you assume the throne of Achar?"
     There was utter silence in the chamber, and Zared looked slowly about, not only at the people who waited for his answer, but also at the chamber itself that had witnessed so much violence and death during Axis' war with Borneheld.
     "I was born to the throne of Achar," Zared said, his voice ringing to the very peak of the brilliant blue-enamelled dome itself, "and so I will assume it."
     The chamber erupted. Goldman waited until the noise had died down, then he looked at Leagh. "And will you accept the wishes of the Acharites, Princess?"
     She stared at him, then Zared leaned across and took her hands, turning her to face him.
     "Will you be my wife, Leagh?" he said. "Will you be my Queen?"
     She looked at him, studied his face, and knew she had no choice. "Yes, Zared," she finally said, "I will be your Queen."
     Caelum Amid tbe Ruins Caelum had viewed the disaster of Kastaleon for a full week, and yet still he could hardly credit his eyes. The castle was a ruin - no longer smoking perhaps, but the piles of cold, useless stone were as painful to gaze upon as the burning wreckage had been.
      What remained of his command was still camped about the ruins. Six hundred men, many still abed from their injuries. Straggly tents, ragged horse lines, and morale that was as damp and grey as the moat most had been forced to swim through to survive. Beyond the camp site, thousands of sad mounds stretched into the distance. Graves. Reminders of the treachery Zared had visited on him.
     "How could he have done it?" Caelum muttered, but no answer occurred to him as it had not occurred to him every time he'd asked himself that question over the past week.
     He turned from his useless contemplation of ruins and camp and walked towards a tent set aside from the others. A guard outside saluted as Caelum approached, but Caelum noted the guard's eyes slid away, refusing to meet his.
     Lingering grief for his comrades, Caelum told himself.
     He lifted the tent flap and entered. It was dim inside, too cool, and Caelum thought about asking a servant to light the brazier. He half turned back towards the tent flap, intending to ask the guard to fetch someone, then thought better of it and lit the brazier himself.
     "Caelum?"
     Caelum closed the brazier hatch. "You're awake, Askam. Did the herbal brew not work?"
     Askam struggled into a sitting position on his bunk. "The pain has dulled, but my left hand itches abominably. Ah!" He spat into a corner of the tent. "The ghost of this arm haunts me, Caelum! Will it never leave me in peace?"
     Caelum sat down on a stool close to the brazier and watched Askam warily. He did not know the words needed to comfort the man, but he suspected that Askam would accept no comfort. All Askam wanted was revenge. Revenge for his castle, revenge for his arm. He had lost more weight in the past week than Caelum had thought possible any man could do. The skin hung grey and slack from Askam's bones, his eyes were red-rimmed with pain and exhaustion, and the fingers of his remaining hand constantly trembled. His breeches were stained by wear and the exudate from the crusty bandages about his torso.
     Askam could hardly bear the pain when the bandages were changed and, to Caelum's knowledge, they had not been touched these past three days.
     There was a sweet stench in the tent that could not entirely be explained by the fragrant wood burning in the brazier.
     "You should rest, Askam, perhaps eat more. And someone should surely clean your -"
     "I will bite off the hand of the person who dares touch me!" Askam snarled, and Caelum reflexively jerked back on his stool.
     "Askam -"
     "I will flay the skin from Zared's body with my remaining fingernails for what he has done!"
     To that Caelum had nothing to say.
     "When do we move? What else of mine has he seized?"
     "We cannot move while you still lie so weak, Askam."
     Askam lurched to his feet. He swayed alarmingly, but threw off Caelum's concerned hand and managed to find his balance.
     "I can ride, Caelum. And it was not my sword arm that was stolen."
     "You can hardly stand," Caelum said carefully. "And the lack of your left arm will severely hamper your sword balance."
     ",' can fight! When do we move?"
     "I have not yet -"
     Whatever Caelum was about to say was halted by a movement outside the tent, an exclamation of surprise, and the lifting of the tent flap.
     Axis SunSoar, God of the Star Dance, entered the tent.
     Caelum gaped at him, then enveloped him in a huge hug. "Father!"
     Axis briefly returned the hug, then pushed Caelum back.
     He looked almost as grey as Askam. "By all the stars in creation, Caelum, what has happened here?"
     For eight days the Star Gods had talked, argued, and studied the black stain in the universe as also the slight taint that each felt in their powers. What to do, and how?
     Finally they'd decided that Caelum had to be told what was happening. If the saving of Tencendor rested on his shoulders, then he needed to be informed.
     Thus Axis had materialised just outside Kastaleon, focusing his Song of Movement on the faint tug of his son's blood.
     When his vision cleared from the enchantment, the sight that met his eyes caused him to cry out in shock.
     The destruction appalled him. He'd had no idea of any war being fought on Tencendorian soil. He, as his companion gods, had been so consumed by the problem of the TimeKeeper Demons he'd paid no attention to the daily travails of Tencendor.
     Besides, Caelum now ruled, and Caelum needed to be left alone to rule as he saw fit.
     But what in the name of all Stars had happened here? There were graves… thousands of them! For the first time in a week all thought of the TimeKeeper Demons and their potential for utter disaster had fled from Axis' mind.
     Now Axis grasped his son's shoulders, as worried by the pallor of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes as he was by the destruction and death outside. "Caelum? What has happened here?"
     But it was not Caelum who replied.
     "Your brother" Askam almost spat the word, "has committed such treachery that this land has not seen in decades."
     Axis ignored him, his eyes still locked with his son's. "Caelum?"
     Caelum glanced at Askam, then took his father's arm and steered him outside.
     Askam made as if to follow, but faltered at the first step and sank back to his bunk again. He muttered Zared's name as his head hit the pillow, and even he was not sure if the word was a curse or a promise.
     "Zared had seized Kastaleon as part of his quest for the Acharite throne -" Caelum began.
     "What?" Axis exploded, then subsided as he noticed small groups of men turning to stare at them.
     Damn Zared into a thousand pits of fire! Damn Rivkah for breeding him!
     Caelum nodded. "Even with the mention of the throne, Father, it seems that the hatreds of the past have flared into war. Zared claimed that the human populations felt slighted, that they needed their throne back."
     "Stars," Axis muttered. "Was all I fought for in vain? Had he no thought?"
     He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "What did you do?"
      "I raised five thousand men and came here to personally supervise his expulsion. But…"
     "But it did not go well for you, did it, my son? I assume Zared does not lie in any of those graves."
     Caelum hesitated, then shook his head. "We approached stealthily. I hid the force under cloak of enchantment -"
     Axis glanced sharply at him.
     "- and I thought us to be safe enough. The castle was quiet. I thought Zared and his men asleep. But as we entered the courtyard… once most of us were in…"
      Caelum turned to his father and shared with him the vision and experience of the explosion.
     Aghast, Axis halted him. "You led your men into a trap, Caelum! Did you not think to send scouts… make sure all was as it seemed before you blithely marched your entire force inside?"
     Caelum flushed. "All seemed well, Father! How could I have suspected such foul -"
     "As easily as Zared anticipated your approach, Caelum! Why were you not more careful?"
     Axis took a deep breath, averting his eyes from his son's face. "Did you not think to parley first?" he asked in a quieter tone. "Zared would have talked. His seizure of Kastaleon was just a theatre to gain your attention."
     "What? Look at this, Father!" Caelum waved a hand at the ruins. "Is that 'talk'?" He turned to the field of graves. "Are they'theatre'?"
     "I might have done the same had I heard a force of five thousand approached, Caelum!" Axis snapped. He paused, and collected himself. It was no use expending his anger at Zared on his son.
     "You are right," he said. "He should not have gone to these extremes. Where is he now?"
     "Ah, he, ah…" In the first shocking aftermath of the explosion Caelum had not thought to determine Zared's position, and in the past two or three days he had been so plagued by his nightmares it seemed that whenever he blinked he saw the point of the sword screaming down towards his heart.
     Gods, why hadn't he acted quicker? How was it that Drago could so destroy his mind from whatever hole he'd secreted himself in?
     "You have sent farflight scouts to search him out, Caelum… haven't you?"
     Caelum licked his lips, then wished he hadn't. "I left half of the Strike Force in Sigholt, the other half in Severin."
     "Severin?"
     "I thought it best that, at the least, Zared could lose his seat of power for his treachery in seizing Kastaleon."
     Axis only just managed to stop himself from swearing. "You have started a civil war, Caelum!"
     "It was not ,' who started it!"
     Axis stared at his son, fighting back the words. A parley, open discussions about whatever grievances Zared had, and restitution to Askam for the seizure of Kastaleon would have solved the entire problem. But, no. Caelum had felt the need for dramatic action. Had he not taught his son better?
     And he had just marched his entire force into enemy territory without scouting first?
     Axis turned away, pretending a careful study of the ruins. How could he revile his son for the actions he'd taken? Caelum had no experience of war, and little of diplomacy. The now-dead Duke of Aldeni, Roland, had warned Axis many years ago that peace did not breed good kings or war leaders. Well, Axis hoped that Caelum would learn from this experience.
     Stars knew he was going to need it.
      "Caelum," he said quietly, facing his son again, "Zared is not the only problem you and Tencendor must face."
     Briefly he told his son what WolfStar knew about the Sacred Lakes and the TimeKeeper Demons. He did not tell him that WolfStar claimed Caelum was the only one who could battle against the Demons. That Caelum did not need to hear right now.
     What Caelum had heard was bad enough. He stared at his father. "Tell me the implications of the TimeKeepers' approach!"
     "They will destroy our power, Caelum. Already they blot out the Star Dance from a tiny portion of the universe. If they get close enough to the Star Gate then they will cut out the music of the Star Dance completely."
     "But that will mean… that will mean that all Enchanters in this land will lose their powers! Every… every…" Caelum stared at his father, not able to say it.
     "And every Star God, Caelum. Every Star God,"
     Caelum shook his head, trying to comprehend this torrent of bad news. No wonder the problems he'd been experiencing with his own powers. And it would only get worse? He tried to imagine life without the ability to hear or use the Star Dance, and found he could not do so. "Why do they approach so fast? Why now?"
     And even as he asked the question, he knew. Drago. Drago had taken the Rainbow Sceptre through the Star Gate to these Demons!
     Yes, Axis answered in his mind. "He leads them," he continued in his speaking voice, "no doubt in some plan to finally wrest control of Tencendor from you. Stars knows he was ever ambitious!"
     "Father," Caelum whispered, "have you dreamed of the hunt recently?"
     "No. Why?"
     Caelum told his father about his dreams, about being hunted through forest and plain alike by the horseman dressed in his enveloping dark armour.
     "It is DragonStar," Caelum said, "and always he hunts me down, and always he impales me on his sword."
     His eyes were haunted, terrified. "Now Drago leads Demons to destroy us. Drago's infant pact with Gorgrael was the least of his horrors, wasn't it, Father? He will never rest, never, until he can kill me."
     "Caelum, listen to me." Axis took his son's shoulders and forced him to meet his stare. "We will prevail. We have time to prepare. The Demons are far off yet."
     Axis could feel Caelum trembling beneath his hands, and his power could detect the memories rushing through his mind. Stars! He had not realised Drago exerted such a hold over Caelum.
     "Caelum? We will deal with this."
     "Yes. Yes, you are right." Caelum straightened and subdued his doubts. "But first I must deal with Zared."
     "Yes." It will give you experience, Axis thought. Experience and confidence.
     "Do whatever you think best, Caelum."
     "I'll battle it out, then," Caelum said. "Zared has lost the right to parley."
     Axis frowned, then nodded. "If your judgment tells you that is the right course, then take it."
     Then he caught himself. What was he thinking? Was he about to sacrifice his brother in order to hone his son's skills? But Caelum had been right to say that it was Zared who'd started this. Zared had drawn the first blood.
     Was Tencendor worth a brother? Axis had to stop a grim smile. He'd killed two brothers already to accomplish his dream. The death of another to preserve it was no great sacrifice.
     Was it?
     "If you need advice, Caelum, never hesitate to ask."
     Whatever doubts Caelum had exhibited earlier had now apparently vanished. "I will deal with Zared on my own, Father. Zared is my problem. But," his mouth quirked, "Drago is something I may need a little help with. With him, and with these Demons, I do invoke your aid."
     Axis smiled, and put his arm about Caelum's shoulders. "Go deal with Zared, and then we shall scheme to put Drago away for an eternity."
     The Shadow-Lands At first Zenith moved easily through the shadow-lands. Every night Faraday came to her, took her hand, and encouraged her further south. The journey was painless through shadow-Skarabost. They left the forest quickly - for the shadow-Minstrelsea was an unnerving place to remain - and travelled the great grain plains of Skarabost. Insubstantial men and women tilled the fields and the vegetable patches, their every movement slow and deliberate, their eyes always turned away from the two women who moved among them.
     Once they reached southern Skarabost, Zenith found her steps increasingly painful. It was Niah's unconscious mind, Faraday explained, throwing up defences against Zenith's approach.
     "It will become ever more painful," Faraday said, and Zenith turned her head aside. Painful or not, she was determined to recover her body and her life.
     Their journey slowed. Each night they covered less ground, even though Faraday bent every art and skill and encouragement she could. Night by night, step by step, the pain increased.
     "What are these shadow-lands?" Zenith asked one night to keep her mind occupied with something other than the pain.
     "The world of dream is as real as the world of waking, Zenith. But few know of its existence. Even when they dream, they barely skirt about its edges."
     "How did you know of it?"
     Faraday was silent a long while before she answered. "You do not know how I was transformed back into human form, and I do not think I am able to explain it all to you. But a force such as I have never known seized me, changed me, and enriched me. Over the past two months I have explored my new power, and one of the avenues it opened for me was into the shadow-lands. Zenith, that is not much of an explanation, but it is the best I can do."
     Zenith nodded and accepted it.
     Despite the questions she asked to keep her mind from the pain, by the time they neared the shadow-Carlon, Zenith had bitten her lip red with the effort of not crying out.
      But what the two women found at the site of Carlon and the Grail Lake drove the pain from Zenith's mind.
     They stood and gaped.
     "What is it?" Zenith asked, leaning on Faraday's arm.
     Faraday stared ahead. "It is a maze," she said, and some part of her knew that it was somehow connected to Noah.
     They stood on a small rise from where they should have been able to see Grail Lake and Carlon rising in splendour on its shore. But a gigantic maze had replaced both lake and city. Where once had been water were now twisting stone-walled avenues and alleys, blind cul-de-sacs and trick doorways. It was massive, easily a league from side to side and perhaps two long. At its most western aspect the Maze rose as if it climbed a small hill - and there rose Carlon, as it would have risen beside the lake.
     But it was not quite the same Carlon. Its streets had twisted into a maze-like tangle as well, its buildings and spaces merely an extension of the maze below.
     "Look," Zenith whispered, and pointed.
     "Yes," Faraday said. "I see them."
     Tens of thousands of people scurried in the Maze that filled the site of the lake and overwhelmed Carlon. Most of the activity was in the section of the Maze that had once been Carlon, but many hundreds had somehow found their way into the lower Maze. But whatever section they were in, the people ran this way and that, frantic even in the dreamlike shadow-lands. Many carried bundled belongings, or children. Some ran headlong into stone walls and fell senseless to the ground. Others lent each other aid to climb the walls of the Maze, only to tumble into a section of labyrinth more frustrating than the last. Others looked over their shoulders as if they were being pursued, others still checked the position of the sun, almost lost in a haze, as if their lives depended on it.
     "I don't understand," Zenith said.
     "Look!" Faraday cried, and pointed.
     At first Zenith could see nothing beyond the scurrying people within the Maze, but then she saw that one entire section of the Maze had emptied. Emptied, save for a man running. He was frantic, casting his eyes over his shoulder, bouncing off walls in his terror, falling and scrambling to his feet in the one breath. He was bloodied and tattered, and it appeared that he had been fleeing a very long while.
     "And there," said Faraday softly.
     Zenith again looked where she pointed. There were a group of horsemen, five or six, led by a man in dull black armour atop a great black horse. In his hand he wielded a massive sword.
     Zenith felt nauseated. "Look, they are gaining on him."
     The hunting party were only a few bends away from their quarry now, and in the space of three breaths they had cornered him in a cul-de-sac.
     The man fell to his knees, his hands outstretched, but whether in denial or pleading Zenith could not tell.
     The black horseman spurred his mount on, reining it to an abrupt halt.
     Then he waved his sword once about his head.
     "DragonStar!" Zenith and Faraday heard the hapless victim call out, and then he said no more, for the horseman drove the blade through his chest, then again through his belly, and then the horseman was standing in his stirrups, screaming his victory, blood scattering in small drops about him as he waved his sword about.
     "Tencendor is miner' he screamed. "Tencendor is mine!"
     "Drago?" whispered Zenith.
     Faraday paused. "On the horse? Maybe, maybe not, but do not dwell on it, Zenith. All will be well."
     She took Zenith's arm and urged her forward. "We'll give the Maze a wide berth," she said, "and we will be safe."
     Ik King of Ate Zared wandered slowly through the ancient Icarü palace of Carlon. After the Wars of the Axe this palace had been the home of generations of Kings of Achar. Here they had wived and sired their heirs. Here they had surveyed their kingdom, cast their decisions. Here they had conspired to keep the Forbidden - the Seneschal's word for the Icarü and Avar - locked behind the Icescarp and Fortress Ranges.
     Here once, but no more. Zared paused by the window of one of the chambers. Grail Lake lapped quietly under the chill morning sun. Today, the first day of Frost-month, would be his wedding day and his crowning day.
     He smiled slightly, thinking of Leagh, and then his smile broadened as he thought of what the afternoon would bring. A circlet. A ring of office. A realm. Achar.
     The circlet and ring were here in Carlon. Rivkah had kept them in Severin for many years, but in her old age had succumbed to sentimentality and had caused them to be held in a quiet and secretive storage here in Carlon. Their ancient home. Where they belonged.
     And now here he was. His ancient home. Where he belonged. It felt so right. He may have stumbled to this point, but once here…
     Zared turned back into the chamber. It was spectacular - far more so than in Priam's or Borneheld's day. Once Axis had gained control of Tencendor he'd caused the palace to be restored to its ancient Icarü splendour. Every chamber had a domed ceiling, enamelled in jewel-like colours, each dome sparkling with representations of stars or, as in this chamber, dancers drifting through the sky.
     Zared strolled into the centre of the chamber, deep in thought. Once Icarü, then seized by the Kings of Achar as their own. Restored by the half Icarü, half human StarMan. Now… now back to the Acharite throne.
     As Zared wandered, Leagh sat very still at her mirror table, looking at her reflection. From early morning her maids had laboured on her body, her face, her hair, her robes. Now here she sat, minutes from her wedding, and a few hours from a crowning.
     She could not stop the lingering doubts. Oh, how she wished she had either Askam or Caelum to talk to, to ask advice from, to beg for forgiveness! She loved Zared, and she accepted that the… the Acharites (how clumsy that word sounded on her tongue and in her mind!) wanted him as their king. But was that necessarily right for Tencendor?
     Should the throne be restored?
     "Gods," she whispered at her reflection. "What will Askam do when he discovers my actions? What will Caelum do?"
     But it was too late. She now had no choice. She had promised Zared that she would accept the will of the people, and so she must.
     "He has been honest with me," she said, more firmly now, "and so I must be honest with him."
     And with that she rose.
     "My Prince!" enthused Wilfred Parlender, Carton's Prime Notary. "It is indeed an honour to be asked to officiate at the wedding of our Princess to the heir to the throne. Prince, know that Carlon wishes you well! Even now the streets are lined with revellers."
     Zared repressed a smile and fidgeted with his embroidered gloves. He felt uncomfortable in this finery, but a marriage such as this had to be observed with due formality.
     He looked about him. Scores of people lined the walls of the Chamber of the Moons, but Leagh had not yet made her appearance. She was late. Why? Zared was struck by the horrible thought that she'd changed her mind and had fled the palace.
     Back to Caelum? Zared's fidgeting grew more noticeable. Where was Caelum? What was he thinking? Zared had expected some reaction from the StarSon before now - but nothing. Maybe Caelum had died in the explosion - no, that could not be. His fairy blood would have protected him, and there had not been a vengeful Axis to deal with.
     Not yet.
     "Peace, my Prince," Gregoric Sandmeyer murmured in his ear. He stood slightly behind Zared, acting as chief witness. Behind Sandmeyer ranged sundry nobles, Theod and Herme chief among them, Master Goldman and his entire family, all the guild masters, their wives, and the most important craftsmen, businessmen, and notables of Carlon. Zared had requested their presence. He needed credible witnesses who could attest for ever afterwards that this was a legal marriage, with Leagh giving free and willing consent.
     "Peace," Sandmeyer said again. "The entire city of Carlon stands behind you, Zared."
     "Achar stands behind you, my Prince," Goldman added. "The demonstration you saw in the streets yesterday is but a fraction of the support you enjoy throughout Achar. Every man, woman and toddling child will rally to your name. Do not fear."
     Zared was about to answer when there was a rustle at the door, and the servant standing there nodded to Parlender.
     "She arrives!" Parlender said breathlessly, his chubby face perspiring from high excitement.
     Leagh entered the room, splendid in gold and rose, and Zared loved her for wearing his colours. Her eyes sought his, and she smiled at him sweetly.
     Zared smiled back, and held out his hand. It will all be well, he thought as she walked towards him. It will be.
     "Zared," she murmured as she joined him, and dropped her eyes demurely, although a smile remained on her lips.
     "My Lady," he said, "you are more beautiful than the sunrise."
     She blushed at the flattery, but accepted it anyway. There were many in the room more beautiful than she, but a woman was allowed to believe any fantasy she liked on her wedding day.
     "Ahem." Parlender cleared his throat. "My Prince, Princess, would you like me to begin?"
     Zared lifted his eyes, smiled, and nodded.
     Leagh thought the rite the most beautiful she had ever witnessed, let alone participated in. Zared stood by her side, so striking she thought she would never be able to catch her breath again, so sure, so confident, speaking the vows with a measured yet potent voice. She knew that many people crowded the Chamber of the Moons, but she was aware only of Zared and the lesser presence of Prime Notary Parlender.
     Leagh had not thought to be this entranced. She had been so uncertain this morning, but the instant she had seen Zared standing, waiting for her, all her doubts had vanished. The sun shone so bright, the waters of Grail Lake sung to her from the open window, and the brief glimpse of joyful Carlonese crowding the streets made her heart swell with happiness.
     It will all be well, she thought, it truly will. She would enjoy being Zared's wife, raising their children, growing old and contented with him. Zared's parents had been deeply in love, and Leagh was beginning to hope that she and Zared would also enjoy that depth of love and commitment.
     It will all be well.
     Zared had spoken his vows, and now he turned to her. He held her hands, and his eyes smiled at her, and Leagh knew that everything would be glorious, and that the small sadnesses and irritations that struck every marriage would hardly dim the happiness of their union.
     "My Princess," Parlender said softly. "Do you give your free and willing consent to marriage with Prince Zared?"
     She smiled, and felt the pressure of Zared's grip increase in response. "I do hereby give my consent freely and willingly," she said clearly, "and gladly and unhesitatingly."
     Parlender spoke the vows for her to repeat, but now Leagh was hardly aware even of him. All existence was centred about Zared's smile, and the warmth and pressure of his hands.
     And it was done. The crowds, inside the chamber and outside in the street, cheered and yelled. Music swelled, Zared bent down to kiss her, and now Leagh knew she dared have no doubts at all, for there was no undoing their marriage.
     To her surprise, Zared hurried her with almost indecent haste from the Chamber of the Moons to their prepared apartments, where he proceeded to bed her.
     "Why?" she gasped as he drew her into his embrace, slipping his hands down to worry at the tiny hooks of her gown.
     "Why not? It is two weeks at least since we have bedded, and I hunger for my wife."
     "But this afternoon is the crowning, and I will wear this same gown, and I will have to bathe and dress all over again, and -"
     "Oh, do be quiet, Leagh," and he slid the fine gown from her shoulders and she gave in to his persistence.
     Perhaps there was some final legal point that stated a consort crowned beside her husband had to be a formally bedded consort.
     Whatever, she spoke no more, and wrapped her now-bare arms about her husband as he slid the rest of her clothes into a puddle about her ankles.
     They lay for an hour only, and then servants hurried into their chamber - causing Leagh to blush as they discovered her naked - and began to wash and dress man and wife for the crowning. Abandoned clothes were snatched from the floor, and hurriedly cleaned and pressed. Hair was brushed and dressed, maids re-powdered and rouged Leagh's face, man-servants shaved and scented Zared's cheeks and chin.
     And so they walked in stately procession back to the Chamber of the Moons.
     There a somewhat attenuated crowning took place. In previous years, the Brother-Leader of the Seneschal would have crowned the heir, but the Seneschal and the Brother-Leader were no more. There was no other official with the same stature - neither the Lord Mayor nor the Master of the Guilds was appropriate.
     So in the end it was Theod, Duke of Aldeni, as highest-ranked nobleman present, who lowered the golden circlet on Zared's head, and slipped the amethyst ring of office onto his finger.
     And then he dropped to one knee, and bowed his head. "Long live the King!" he cried, and the cry was taken up in the Chamber, as in the streets where again, it seemed, the sixty thousand had gathered to welcome in their monarch.
     Then Zared lowered the lesser circlet on to Leagh's brow. She opened her eyes wide as it settled; it felt cold, and unusually heavy.
     The responsibilities of Queen, she thought, and then the thought was driven from her head as the air again rang with the jubilation of the crowds.
     "Long live the Queen!"
     Oh gods, she thought, what have I done? I have just participated in a ritual that has wiped my brother from his position as Prince of the West!
     She'd never thought about that before. What had she done?
     Then, as in ancient ceremony, the nobles present came forward to pledge to their king their homage and fealty. Theod first, and then Herme. Baron Marrat of Romsdale was noticeably absent, but several other minor nobles presented themselves. The guild and craft masters again promised their allegiance, and the same procession of people who the day previously had confessed their loyalty now bent before Zared once again.
     After the seemingly endless procession had ended, Zared took Leagh's hand and led her to a balcony where they received the acclaim of the Carlonese.
     The swell of joy and sound almost overwhelmed Leagh. Zared smiled and waved, but for some minutes all Leagh could do was stand and stare. Thousands - tens of thousands - stood and cheered, their joy was patently unfeigned and unpurchased.
     He was right to chastise me for not walking about the streets of my own city, she thought, for I never knew they hungered this much for their lost king.
     Leagh raised her hand and waved, and gradually came to distinguish individual voices among the general hubbub.
     "My Lady Queen," an old woman cried out directly below her. "Rule wisely and well!"
     "An Acharite King and a Queen - at last!" another cried.
     "A cheer for the King and his Queen," shouted yet someone else, and the wave of sound swelled into meaningless noise and almost overwhelmed Leagh.
     She swayed, and felt Zared slide his arm about her waist and support her against his own body. "It's what they want," he whispered. "If it hadn't been their desire, then I would not have dreamed of claiming my right."
     He kissed her, delighting the crowd, and then Leagh felt a hand on her shoulder.
     Whose? she wondered, for Zared had both his clasped about her waist.
     And so she raised her head, and looked, and cried aloud with fright.
     Axis SunSoar stood behind them, a hand on each of their shoulders.
     The crowd screamed, loving it - there was the StarMan! Even the Star Gods blessed the marriage and the crowning!
     But Leagh was much, much closer to Axis, and from the expression on his face she wondered that he did not tumble them to their deaths in the crowd below.
     Zared stiffened. "What do you here, brother? Have you come to impart your best wishes?"
     "Inside!" Axis hissed, and his hands tightened to the point of pain.
     Leagh glanced at Zared; his face was white with anger. Without a word they walked back into the Chamber of the Moons.
     "Out!" Axis shouted into the crowded chamber, his entire power as God of Song behind his voice, and the chamber emptied within moments.
     "You are stupid beyond belief!" Axis seethed, turning back to face Zared and Leagh. "Zared, how could you do this? How could you betray all that I had worked to achieve? How -"
     "How could you betray your mother's people as you did?" Zared shot back.
     Leagh looked between the two men, both furiously angry, and retreated a step.
     "I always knew you would betray me," Axis said, quietly now. "Knew it from the moment I heard Rivkah was pregnant again. You have inherited your father's 'loyalty', Zared. Magariz was ever willing to swap masters for expediency's sake -"
     "He followed where his heart told him, Axis. I but do the same!"
     "The Kings of Achar deserve to lie forgotten!" "Not according to the Acharites." "Then damn them! Is all I did in vain? Did I not fight Borneheld to the death in this very chamber," Axis' arm swept in a violent arc, "to save this country and all its peoples from utter destruction? Damn you, Zared, am I always to be troubled by disloyal brothers?"
     "You were ever prepared to fight for what you thought was right, Axis. I am only doing the same. I claim my rightful heritage back from your destruction of it."
     "You will send - have sent - men to the grave to do it!"
     "How many men did you send to the grave in the pursuit of your dream, Axis?"
     "You will tear this country apart again, Zared! What will you demand next? The resurrection of the Seneschal?"
     Zared's temper finally broke. He buried his fist in the front of Axis' tunic and hauled him close. "You are my brother, Axis, not my god! Go strut your fine-sounding phrases and ideals with your immortal companions, but do not tell me what is best for the Acharite people because I don't believe you have any bloody idea!"
     Axis grabbed at Zared's arm, staring fiercely at him, but before he could speak Leagh stepped forward and spoke calmly.
     "My husband speaks wisely, if intemperately, Axis. Can you not hear the cry of the crowd? They believe they need their king as much as the Icarü their Talon, or the Avar their Mage-King."
     "And it is plain to see, Leagh," Axis said, his eyes not leaving Zared's face, "that you have not inherited the loyalty of your father. Belial was ever a true friend to me. I had expected the same of you."
     He finally tore himself free from Zared and faced Leagh. "Do you not care that your brother lies crippled due to the actions of your husband?"
     "Askam?" Leagh's face was stricken. "Crippled? Zared, what does he say? What does he mean?"
     Axis answered. "Lady, do you not know that Zared caused the death of thousands at Kastaleon? Do you not know that men burned for his ambition? Caelum and Askam were caught in that conflagration. They barely survived."
     Leagh felt as though she might faint. She stared at Zared, a hand to her throat. "Is what he says true, Zared?"
     "Leagh, I did not tell you, for I had no way of knowing if Askam lay dead or alive. I -"
     Leagh looked back at Axis. "Askam is crippled? What do you mean?"
     "He has an arm torn from him, Leagh. He will be maimed for life for his loyalty to Caelum. And yet here you are. His sister, who he thought loyal to him… who Caelum thought loyal! Were you forced into this marriage, or were you a free and willing partner to Zared's treachery? What did he tempt you with? A crown? Power? How did he buy your support in this… this foul deed?"
     Leagh looked between the two men, both now staring unblinking at her, both demanding her loyalty, both demanding that she choose. All she would have to do to escape this marriage, and escape Zared, would be to claim she'd not been a willing partner to the marriage. Claim she'd been forced to consent. All she'd have to do is lie.
     But had not Zared lied to her? Why hadn't he told her about Askatn? Gods, what should she do? "Answer me!" Axis snapped.
     "I…" she began, then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "I went willingly into my marriage, Axis."
     "Then willingly you shall share the same fate as Zared!" Axis snarled, then whipped about to his brother. "Caelum leads Tencendor now, Zared, and he swears he will lead an army to your destruction! Curse your misled ambition, Zared! Tencendor needs to be united now as never before! Ah! I shall leave you to Caelum. This is not my fight any longer!"
     "If Caelum comes after me - and by coming after me he comes after all Acharites - he will aid in the destruction of your own dream," Zared said quietly. "All Caelum had to do, all you had to do, was to admit that the Acharites deserve as much pride as do the Icarü, or the Avar, or the Ravensbund. If Tencendor now slides into war, Axis, then know it is a war that SunSoar blindness has started."
     Axis stared at him, his face working with his fury, then with an abrupt motion of his hand, he vanished.
     His presence and anger stayed for longer. Zared and Leagh stood motionless for some minutes, waiting for it to dissipate, then Zared slowly turned to Leagh.
     "Lady," he said quietly, taking her hand and kissing it. "I do thank you."
     Leagh snatched her hand from his, her entire face contorted with an emotion he could not read.
     "You said you would be honest with me," she said, "and then you set the trap that almost killed my brother."
     And she turned her back and left him standing there.
     Voices in the Ni He lay in bed, and listened to the sound of the strange, cold world outside, and the gentle breathing of the strange, cold woman beside him.
     If he had ever believed StarLaughter loved him, or even regarded him well, he no longer laboured under that misapprehension.
     She used him, as did the Questors. As perhaps also that frightening, vacant baby who even now lay uselessly attached to StarLaughter's breast.
     Lying there, looking with sightless eyes into the night.
     Drago lurched out of bed before he gave in to the overwhelming desire to snatch the baby and throw him with all his strength through the open window. Would the baby bounce when he hit the hard stone ground outside? And once he had bounced and rolled, would he just lie there, and stare, stare, stare?
     He stood trembling, making sure that he'd not woken StarLaughter.
     No. She slept as soundly as ever.
     Slowly he relaxed, taking deep breaths and stretching the muscles of his back and shoulders. It was deep night -he had hours to himself if he wished, and yet hours to do what? There was nothing to do in this bizarre existence save wander amid the petrified stone forest outside and listen to the flock of children whisper for revenge as they swept swift and shadowlike through the trees.
     Perhaps the Questors sat, awaiting some conversation. Drago did not know what they did with themselves through the night hours, but he suspected they did not sleep. More than likely they just sat in their semi-circle of chairs. Watching.
     Drago shivered and walked over to the chair where he'd draped his clothes the night previously. He hunched into a light robe, then his eye fell on the sack of coins.
     He hesitated, then snatched the sack from the chair and wandered over to the archway that led into the stone-frozen garden.
     In the distant night he could make out a blacker shadow whirling through the trees.
     Drago dragged his eyes away from the Hawkchilds, and sat down on the floor, his back against the pillar of the arch, his knees bent, the coins tumbling out of the sack into his lap.
     He picked one up and studied it in the poor light. What did it mean, this staff on one side and the sword on the other? Why had the Sceptre transformed itself into coins? Had the Sceptre meant to do that, or was it an unwanted consequence of the leap through the Star Gate?
     He rolled the coin slowly through his fingers, gradually relaxing, the questions drifting away in his mind. He leaned his head back against the cold stone of the arch, and again dreamed of the hunt. But this time he watched as…
     the doe fled panicked through the forest, the hunters gaining on her, the hounds (birds?) at her heels. In an instant they had her down, and she was torn apart in a flurry of frantic kicking hooves and blood spraying through the…
     Drago's eyes flew open, his heart pounding, and he stared about the chamber.
     Nothing. All was quiet. StarLaughter lay as if stone herself, the infant staring into the void from her breast.
     He turned his head. Outside the children wheeled through the stone forest, hunting… would they hunt Faraday if they returned?
     Surely not. Surely. They only wanted WolfStar. They would leave Faraday alone. Wouldn't they?
     But who did the Questors hunt?
     You may have to protect her, as she will protect you.
     Drago jerked halfway to his feet, staring wildly about him. That voice, an old man's voice, had echoed through his mind but had also seemed to whisper through the spaces about him.
     We are grateful, Drago, that you served to free her.
     Another voice. A woman's voice, seductive and humorous.
     Thank you.
     Now several voices all at once. Drago stared about, his mouth dry with fear, not moving only because he did not know which way to flee. He recognised the touch of power, and loathed it. Were these the Questors, come to taunt him?
     No.
     "Who then?" he whispered. "Who?"
     Silence.
     We were once free, then gave our freedom to serve the Prophecy and make the Sceptre.
     Drago remembered tales of the five Sentinels, and dimly recalled his father saying once that they had given their lives to make the Sceptre. Hadn't they been burned… or something?
     Once we were the Sentinels, but no more.
     Drago slowly settled back on the floor, his muscles still tense, every sense alert. He rolled the coin between his fingers again, feeling its smooth, cool metal surface.
     Drago, you have done some reprehensible things. The voice of a stern man. Authoritative. Jack.
     Drago grimaced. Another father figure to hound him and remind him of his mistakes.
     Truly reprehensible things. The woman again, laughing. But nevertheless, you are very intriguing. Yr, the seductress.
     The coin stilled in Drago's fingers. His legs tingled, warm, as if a large cat had brushed against them.
     Now the voices continued apace, but they talked among themselves rather than to Drago. Freed from that damned Sceptre! At last!
     Given our freedom. Freed to the Stars.
     They continued to chatter, moving into what Drago thought nonsense. Arguments about the lengths of donkeys' ears, or the precise colour of Faraday's gown. They talked a 'great deal about freedom and choice, and then got deep into a debate about whether choice was freedom or imprisonment. He may not have followed their chatter or their reasoning, but Drago listened anyway. They were surely argumentative, but they were also amusing and intriguing, and just the sound of their voices gave Drago a sense of well-being and peace. And somehow they seemed to give just a little hope. She comes! Be still!
     Unpanicked but warned, Drago folded the coin into the palm of his hand, and arranged his robe so that it hid the pile in his lap.
     "And what does my fine man do here on the floor?"
     StarLaughter sank down beside him.
     "I couldn't sleep."
     "Ah." She ran a hand through his hair. "My poor man. The Questors will not need you in the morning. Shall we sit and talk? Or shall I teach you how to hold my baby just so when I give him a bath?"
     "Talk," Drago said hastily and then, to distract her hand which was creeping to his lap, he said the first thing that came to mind.
     "Did you play like this with WolfStar?"
     She sat back, her hands still now, her face hard. "I loathed him then, as I loathe him now."
     "But surely… you were both SunSoar… you must have loved -"
     "I never loved him!" she spat.
     "No, of course not. He must have been rabidly mad, even then."
     She was silent a while before she spoke. "He was attractive enough, and sometimes he made me laugh. But he was in the way."
     "What do you mean?
     StarLaughter looked at Drago carefully, as if assessing him. Then, "I always thought I would have made a better Talon. I intrigued against him - fool WolfStar! He thought I was so sweet, so pliant! He thought of me as a bedmate and a breeder. Nothing else. I hated him for that. So I planned to replace him."
     Drago thought of his own bid for power, and then shuddered at the thought that he and StarLaughter might be so much alike. "You did not succeed."
     And, he thought so suddenly he almost jumped, you did not succeed, and I did not succeed, and maybe it was better that way.
     "Succeed? He threw me to my death!" StarLaughter said. "And our child, our baby." She glanced back to the bed where, Drago was grateful to see, the infant still lay. "He was no father to my baby."
     "No." Drago wished he had not mentioned WolfStar. Gods, had he been this bitter? This loathsome? "He betrayed me!" "Yes."
     "Twice over, the crow!" "What do you mean?"
     "He betrayed me twice over. First by casting me to my death… then by lying with another. You bear his blood. I can feel it. Who did he betray me with?"
     Drago hesitated. "With a woman called Niah. She was First Priestess on the Isle of Mist and Memory."
     StarLaughter laughed, but it was ugly and harsh. "The First? He seduced the First? What did she bear him, a son or daughter?"
     "A daughter. My mother, Azhure." "Ah." StarLaughter was silent for a while. "Then you have given me another name to hunt."
     Drago forgot the coins. "My mother? You can't!" "My, my. I thought you loathed your mother for what she did to you. But never mind. I do not mean your mother. I mean Niah. The adulteress. I shall hunt her with as much appetite as I shall hunt WolfStar."
     Drago suddenly remembered Zenith. "StarLaughter, Niah is dead. She was but human. Forget her."
     StarLaughter turned her beautiful head and regarded Drago carefully. "Death means nothing, Drago. Surely you have learned that by now. Niah exists somewhere, and wherever she is I shall find her and destroy her. Adulteress."
     "She did not know who WolfStar was, StarLaughter. She meant you no harm. Hunt WolfStar if you will, but leave Niah alone."
     "She bore a child." A live child. "I was left to rot amid the stars, left to bear my child as best I could."
     By all the stars in heaven, Drago thought, if ever I get back through the Star Gate I am going to live life as a humble carpenter or water carrier. If StarLaughter is an example of what happens to someone when they crave power and revenge, then I think I shall put aside all thoughts of power. Life is enough.
     "My baby should be WolfStar's heir!" StarLaughter added.
     "And so it shall be," a soft voice said from the shadows, and Drago tensed.
     Sheol stepped forth, the other Questors behind her. "And what is the title of the heir to the throne, Queen of Heaven?"
     StarLaughter looked inquiringly at Drago. "What is it now, Drago?"
     "StarSon," Drago mumbled.
     "StarSon!" Mot cried. "Perfect! Son of the Queen of Heaven, StarSon, heir to Tencendor!"
     "Heir to Tencendor," Rox said, and smirked. "Once he's caught his breath, of course."
     Wild laughter rang out and Drago's heart hammered in terror. He shuffled the coins back into the sack under cover of a fold of his robe.
     "The Queen of Heaven's child," Barzula chortled. "StarSon! And so we wish and so it shall be. A StarSon such as has never been before."
     An Army for the Asking Four weeks after the disaster of Kastaleon, Caelum stood alone on the windswept plain of northern Rhaetia and wondered at his father's courage. He, too, must once have felt this alone, but from somewhere he'd found the strength to best both Borneheld and Gorgrael - and Timozel and every other traitor the star-damned Prophecy had thrown his way.
     Except Axis hadn't quite disposed of the one who really mattered, had he? Caelum's eyes swept the sky, searching the stars hidden behind the sun's brightness. Drago was out there somewhere, communing with his companion demons, plotting again for the destruction of Tencendor.
     Demons that could dull the Star Dance? Wipe Icarü enchantments from Tencendor? Caelum shuddered, and tried to put from his mind the growing tarnish he could feel in his own powers; every day he had to reach harder to hear the Star Dance. His mother and father and WolfStar would see to that - they must!
     Ah! What was he doing? Why did he let his fear of Drago consume him so? With considerable difficulty, Caelum cast Drago from his thoughts. He had treachery more close at hand to deal with.
     Over the past weeks travellers had brought news from the West. Zared. He had "seized" Carlon, with the help of the Princess Leagh, and had declared himself King of Achar. Or was that King of the Acharites? Caelum did not care about the stylistic distinctions. All he knew was that Zared now styled himself King of Achar - the Carlonese, at least, cheered him through the streets - and that Caelum would need a war to wrest the West back from Zared.
     A war. Well, if he had to go to war to bring peace back to this land, then he damn well would. Besides, wasn't that what everyone expected him to do?
     He sighed, and his eyes filled with tears. But war was the last thing, the very last thing that Tencendor needed. Why couldn't they have peace for longer than a lifetime? Why couldn't the hatreds and ambitions of the past lie peacefully in their graves? Why should he have to deal with something he thought his father had ended?
     I wish I hadn't been born first, he suddenly thought. It would all have been so easy if I hadn't been born first. But only bleakness lay in following that train of thought, and Caelum forced his mind back to his current difficulties.
     He turned and surveyed the plain at his back. Over the past two weeks he'd moved his five hundred south to this point just above the low mountain range of Rhaetia. He'd finally managed to re-establish contact with the Strike Force in Sigholt, and now most were flying south to join him. They'd be here in a few days. Caelum had ordered several units from Sigholt to free the Wings currently in Severin; they should join him shortly as well.
     So at least the Strike Force was on its way - but not much else.
     From the West reports drifted in that Zared, aided by Theod and Herme, had a force that numbered close to fourteen thousand and was growing each day. Word about Zared's seizure of the Acharite throne had spread faster than a contagious disease, and Caelum had received information that Acharites from Ichtar, Zared's home province, as well Theod's Aldeni and Herme's Avonsdale, were moving south to join their new King in Carlon.
     Caelum should have expected nothing less from those provinces, controlled as they were by their treacherous overlords. No doubt many had been threatened with seizure of lands if they did not support their lords. But men from Romsdale - whose lord, Baron Marrat, supported Caelum - were also reportedly on the move to Carlon.
     Have I judged wrong? Caelum wondered. Do these men crave a human King and an Achar more than they crave a SunSoar-led Tencendor?
     But even if they do, he reasoned quickly before his doubts crippled him, they should not be allowed to have it. No, this rebellion must be stopped now, before it went too much further.
     He walked slowly back towards camp. The West and North, traditionally the areas from which the majority of a ground force could be recruited, were largely lost to him. That left Nor in the south, and the vast eastern territories, governed by FreeFall, Talon of the Icarü, in conjunction with Isfrael, Mage-King of the Avar. In the spring or summer he could also have called on the Ravensbundmen, but now they were lost in the northern icepacks, hunting their seals.
     Nor. Prince Yllgaine had sent word that he rode to Caelum's side. But it would be some weeks before Yllgaine could get a force to help Caelum. Normally Yllgaine would have sailed troops up the Nordra, save that the traitorous Carlon sat on the waterway like a spider waiting to snatch at them, so they were coming north on horseback instead. Another three weeks at least. At least. It was not easy to raise an army in an hour or two.
     And the rest of the east? There were the populous plains of Skarabost and Arcness. But populated with Acharites - and how many of them might elect to slip past Caelum and run helter-skelter for their shiny new King?
     That left the Avar and the Icarü.
     Caelum's boot heel caught in a small hole and he cursed as he tripped and almost fell. Had it come back to this? Avar and Icarü against the Acharites? It was the Wars of the Axe all over again, save for the name.
     And all due to the damned ambition of Zared. Axis should have done more to ensure that line stayed dead and buried than just declare the throne destroyed. Rivkah should never have been allowed to bear that child. Never.
     Caelum shivered. In the time it'd take him to raise a force capable of striking back, Zared would have consolidated his own position. Ample time for him to raise more mischief to tear the realm apart.
     He quickened his stride. In a few weeks he would meet what forces Marrat could muster, as well as Yllgaine's horsemen, in the northern plains of Arcness. Between then and now he had to raise what he could from the Icarü and, possibly, the Avar. Although what his strange half-brother would give him was debatable.
     Askam stood waiting for Caelum just beyond the camp's perimeter. He had gained strength over the past weeks, although his face was still unnaturally thin and prematurely lined. Askam had not found pain the best of companions. His jacket sleeve flapped uselessly in the wind; Askam refused to pin it out of the way, saying that he did not want to hide Zared's cruelty from the world. Of all the major players, Askam had lost the most from this sudden descent into hostility. Virtually the entire West had abandoned him for Zared.
     Along with his sister.
     "When do we move out?" he asked.
     "Are you rested enough?"
     "Dammit, I am not an invalid! When?"
     Caelum let his eyes drift over the mountains to the south-east. The Minaret Peaks.
     "In the morning," he said. "At dawn. You and I to the Minaret Peaks. Dare Wing will meet us at FreeFall's court. Unit commander Froisson will lead the rest of the force into the Rhaetian hills to await our return in their shelter."
     "The Icarü will assist us," Askam said, his voice cracking.
     Caelum looked at him. "I surely hope so."
     "FreeFall is family. He must help you!"
     Zared is family, too, yet see what he does, Caelum thought. But he smiled and clapped Askam on his right shoulder and led him back to their tent.
     The Minaret Peaks had once been known as the Bracken Ranges, but that was before Faraday had planted out the Minstrelsea forest that crowded their slopes, and before the Icarü Enchanters had recovered the ancient cities that had lain buried under enchantments during their thousand-year exile. Now the ranges that ran from eastern Rhaetia to the Widowmaker Sea were crowded with minarets and spires that rose from the magical forest of Minstrelsea. It was a beautiful and mysterious region of Tencendor, and Caelum regretted that war had brought him here for the first time in almost fifteen years.
     He should have left Sigholt more, he realised as he and Askam cantered their horses towards the first of the trees. He should have showed himself more to the peoples he led.
     No wonder the greater number of humans now flocked to a man they could - at the very least - put a face to.
     The paths of the forest were cool and calming, and Caelum ordered they rein their horses back to a walk.
     "Why?" Askam demanded. "We have no time to saunter along these paths, StarSon. We are on a mission of war, not a picnic."
     "Nevertheless," Caelum said, "Minstrelsea does not like horsemen rushing about her paths. Do you not hear how she sings? Can you not feel her beauty?"
     Caelum's Enchanter powers opened him to the more magical of Minstrelsea's songs, but he knew that ordinary mortals could well sense - if not completely hear - the music that floated about the trees. He let it relax him, let it comfort him.
     His eyes drifted to the strange creatures that cavorted in the shadowy spaces and light-dappled glades. Diamond-eyed dragons crawled along branches and luminescent badgers snuffled beneath bushes. And others, yet stranger.
     Askam pulled his horse back with bad grace. Stars! But it would take them six weeks at this pace!
     But he had underestimated the magic of Minstrelsea. It was not yet gone noon when he noticed an Icarü birdman standing in the centre of the path before them.
     "StarFever HighCrest," Caelum said, pulling up his horse as he recognised FreeFall's Master Secretary of the Palace. "I greet you well."
     StarFever bowed low. Every last speck of him, whether feather or robe, was a saffron orange. "And I you, StarSon. The Talon received word two days ago of your visit, and he and his wife have been eager to meet with you."
     Caelum tried to ignore Askam's obvious impatience at StarFever's long-winded speech; StarFever had gained his position for his skill at protocol, not his reticence.
     "It has been too long since I last visited the Spires, StarFever."
     "Then let me lead the way, StarSon," and StarFever turned and strutted in stately fashion down the forest path.
     Caelum cautioned Askam into patience with a sharp glance, and they pushed their horses after the Master Secretary.
     StarFever led them deeper and deeper into the forest. After some time Caelum noted that while trees still soared to each side of the path, shapes also humped just under the moss-covered soil, too regular to be natural. A few more minutes down the path low structures began to snake their way through the trees, and then resolve themselves into walls that soared towards the sky.
     "Gods!" Askam breathed, his impatience forgotten as he realised that massive buildings filled the spaces between the trees - yet harmonised so completely with the forest that they added to the impression of space and light between the trees. Their walls were of pastel-coloured stone, sometimes shading towards pink, sometimes towards mauve, sometimes towards gold, and they curved and fell and soared into arches and cloisters and columns and spires.
      "The minarets reach at least three hundred paces into the sky," Caelum said in a low voice to Askam as StarFever led them off the path towards a wide archway. "And tunnels and chambers are carved deep into the mountains themselves. The Minaret Peaks are honeycombed into Icarü wonders. Have you never been here?"
     Askam shook his head, dismounted where StarFever indicated and handed the reins to a man of solid build and dark eyes and skin. An Avar. The people of the forest. Caelum noticed Askam watching the Avar man, and wondered if this was also the first time he'd seen one of the forest people. The Avar rarely ventured out of their forest homes, whether the Minstrelsea or the Avarinheim, and many Acharites were initially wary of their formidable build and fierce expressions. But the Avar lived peaceful lives, deeply attuned to the cycles of the seasons and the needs of the earth.
     StarFever bowed to the Avar man. "I thank you and yours for your help, Heddle. Will you keep the horses well until StarSon and his companion return?"
     Heddle nodded, his eyes skipping over Askam to rest on Caelum. He inclined his head, but he did not bow. "You are welcome among the trees, StarSon."
     Caelum thanked him, then he and Askam followed StarFever into the world of the Spires.
     This was truly an Icarü wonderland. The walls of the wide and high passageways glowed with a soft radiance that owed more to magic than any lamp. Above their heads flew jewel-bright Icarü, and through the doors and archways they passed could be glimpsed chambers and spaces that led even deeper into the mountain. Soft murmurs of voices and music drifted through the air.
     Why did I leave it so long before coming back? Caelum wondered again, and before he could answer his own rhetorical question, StarFever had led them into an enormous chamber underneath one of the spires, and FreeFall was hurrying to greet them.
     FreeFall hugged Caelum, then turned to Askam.
     "By the Stars, Askam!" he said, shocked. "What has happened to you?"
     "He lost his arm in the explosion that destroyed Kastaleon," Caelum put in before Askam could respond.
     FreeFall swung his violet gaze back to Caelum. "Not only Askam's arm, but over four thousand lives were lost, I believe."
     Caelum nodded soberly. "Whatever Zared packed into the cellars of that castle was murderously spiteful."
     FreeFall sighed, and beckoned Askam and Caelum over to a round table situated directly under the spire. Caelum glanced upwards as they approached. Smooth walls adorned with gold and silver swirls fled upwards towards a speck of blue sky at the apex of the spire. Even Caelum, with his Enchanter heritage and Icarü blood, felt a moment of dizziness.
     He looked down, and there was FreeFall's wife, EvenSong, to greet him.
     EvenSong smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "It has been too long since you have visited our home, Caelum." She turned, exclaimed over Askam as FreeFall had done, then indicated the chairs about the table.
     DareWing FullHeart was already waiting for them, and greeted Caelum and Askam as they sat down.
     "I have heard the news from the West," FreeFall said without preamble. "I can hardly believe that Zared would have gone so far." He glanced at Askam's empty sleeve again, and Askam smiled bitterly.
     "Another Borneheld has swept down from the north," he said.
     "Hardly Borneheld," EvenSong put in softly, her eyes steady on Askam.
     "What difference?" Askam said. "Did not both seize the throne through vileness and treachery? Does not Zared seek to tear the realm apart as once did Borneheld?"
     "No," EvenSong said, more strongly now. "I will not credit that Zared is another Borneheld, Prince Askam. He has done wrong, surely, and for that he must pay, but he does not have the narrow mind and the cruelty of -"
     "You were not there to see Kastaleon torn apart," Askam cried, scraping his chair back. "You did not have to endure the smell as four and a half thousand screaming men burned in that inferno!"
     "Askam," Caelum said, "be still. EvenSong, Askam makes a good point. You did not have your arm torn off, nor did you have to watch the graves being dug for your command."
     "This is counterproductive," FreeFall said as EvenSong dropped her eyes. "I care not whether Zared takes after his elder and unlamented brother Borneheld or not. What I do care about is making sure that Tencendor regains peace as soon as possible. I find no joy in contemplating the resurrection of Achar and all that it implies."
     Caelum placed both his hands flat on the table. "Quite. FreeFall, EvenSong, this must be resolved by action, not diplomacy. It has gone too far to be solved with words."
     "No action ever goes so far that it can't be solved by-"
     "Nevertheless," Caelum snapped, stopping EvenSong dead. "I cannot ignore the fact that Zared is raising an army in the west, and I cannot ignore the fact that he claims he will not relinquish the throne unless he is forced to do so. Dammit! What is it about brothers that they torment the SunSoars so?"
     There was silence as Caelum restrained his anger. "This will not be solved with words," he said again, staring EvenSong in the eye, "but with war. As Zared prepares for war, then so must I. Dare Wing?"
     DareWing straightened on his stool. "The Strike Force are within two days of the Rhaetian hills, StarSon. They will arrive well rested, ready for action."
     "You cannot use the Strike Force against humans!" EvenSong cried. "Axis was ever loath to do it."
     "I will do as I must, EvenSong."
     "But that would open the scars of the past as nothing else would, Caelum. You cannot do it!"
     "EvenSong makes sense," FreeFall said. "I did not want to see Zared take the throne of Achar, but using the Strike Force to retake Carlon is… too dreadful to consider."
     Caelum sat silently, remembering his earlier thoughts that this could all too easily disintegrate into another Wars of the Axe.
     "What else can I do?" he eventually asked. "What? There is no ground force I can use to defeat him because the majority of the north and west swings behind Zared. FreeFall, even the Strike Force may not be enough. Not to take a city the size of Carlon - or even Arcness, should that also decide to throw in its lot with Zared. And the Strike Force, impressive as it is, cannot patrol the entire realm."
     He looked about the table, then let his gaze rest once again on FreeFall. "I need more, FreeFall. Will the Icarü help me?"
     FreeFall's eyes widened, and he looked at his wife before replying. "Caelum, cannot the Lake Guard help? They are at least six hundred, and as skilled at arms as the Strike Force."
     "I am wary about taking them from Sigholt." Caelum had begun to wonder if the Lake Guard had some connection with the craft at the foot of the Sacred Lakes. For the moment, he preferred to keep them where they were in case they could provide information about the TimeKeepers or, more importantly, in case they might somehow be able to help against that danger. But he did not want to tell FreeFall that. As yet only himself, WolfStar, SpikeFeather and the Star Gods understood what was threatening from the stars. No-one within that group wanted to spread the knowledge until they understood more clearly the nature of the peril.
     "Well, then," FreeFall said, sharing another, more anxious glance with EvenSong. "What about Nor? Ysgryff brought some nine thousand to Axis' cause, as I remember."
     "That was forty years ago. Of those nine thousand most are dead, and Yllgaine did not keep up the same level of military preparedness that his father did. After all," Caelum continued bitterly, "we all thought to have entered a time of peace. Yllgaine can send me perhaps four thousand. No more.
     "FreeFall, I need the assistance of the Icarü. Every one of the adults has spent a few years in the Strike Force. There must be thousands among you who could be retrained to fight."
     "No!" FreeFall banged his fist on the table. "Caelum, understand this. I abhor what Zared has done, and I fear it beyond words. But I fear more what would happen if I mobilised the Icarü nation against the Acharites. I think I would prefer to see Achar reborn in the West before I set Icarü against human again. Caelum, we are all children of the Enchantress."
     "So tell me what you will do, Talon of the Icarü," Askam said, leaning forward over the table, his eyes glittering, "once you see men falling down in worship of the Plough in Zared's West? What then, Talon?"
     "Artor is dead," said FreeFall. "There is no need to fear the worship of the Plough."
     "But the hatreds that built the Seneschal may only be simmering beneath the surface. What else might they build? What other Seneschals?"
     "You must know!" FreeFall snapped. "As you are Acharite yourself! Tell us, Askam, what to fear!"
     "Peace!" Caelum cried into the tension. "I do not want us warring against each other! FreeFall, I accept your answer. For now." His voice hardened. "But know that I may well return and demand your aid if I find myself desperate enough for it. I am StarSon, I sit the Throne of the Stars, and I can damn well order you to provide what you will not willingly give!"
     FreeFall blanched and sat back. Caelum leaned forward and stabbed a finger across the table. "You gave your homage and fealty to my parents, and that homage and fealty extends to me. Do not underestimate me, FreeFall. I can and will demand it of you if I have to."
     DareWing, who had been watching and listening in silence, regarded Caelum with speculative eyes. StarSon had been indecisive and unsure in the early weeks of this crisis, but in the past hour DareWing had seen Caelum show more spirit than he had in months. Well, some men needed a crisis to push them into their full potential. Was Axis' blood finally making its mark on the man? FreeFall nodded stiffly. "As you will, StarSon." They sat silently, staring, until EvenSong smiled a little too brightly. "And what other news, Caelum?"
     Caelum looked away from FreeFall reluctantly. "My other nemesis, Drago. I have reason to believe that he passed through Minstrelsea some weeks ago. Have you any reports of him?"
     Both EvenSong and FreeFall shook their heads. "It is strange," EvenSong said, "that he was not noticed. Many feet walk the paths of Minstrelsea, seen and unseen, and there would be many eyes to mark his passing. But we have heard nothing. If Drago was moving south, then perhaps he took a route other than Minstrelsea."
     Maybe, Caelum thought, then thrust Drago to the back of his mind again. His father would deal with him.
     "Is Isfrael within the northern groves?" he asked FreeFall.
     FreeFall nodded slowly. "You do not think of asking him for aid? The Avar would hardly -"
     "I must," Caelum said quietly, "since the Icarü refuse."
     This was a journey Askam could not participate in. Caelum used his power - and he had to expend such an effort! - to transfer into the northern groves of the Avarinheim forest where Isfrael had his court.
     The forest was silent, watchful. Caelum walked slowly though the outer groves, nodding to the few Avar standing about their edges. They watched him suspiciously, turning to murmur to their companions as he passed.
     There were several score Avar in the Earth Tree Grove itself. They stood about in small, silent groups before the stone circle that ringed the massive Earth Tree. As Caelum stepped into the grove, they all turned to stare at him, their dark faces impassive, their hands folding before them.
     Keeping his own face expressionless and his gait steady, Caelum walked into the open space before the stone circle. He glanced at the watching crowd, then looked at the stone circle. Just inside he could see Isfrael, sitting a wooden throne placed underneath the Earth Tree herself. Standing slightly behind his right shoulder was Shra. Taking a deep breath, Caelum walked underneath one of the stone arches and stopped a few paces away from Isfrael's throne.
     "Brother," he said by way of greeting, and inclined his head.
     "What do you here?" Isfrael asked bluntly, and Caelum suppressed a wince. Should he have asked permission before stepping into these groves? No! Why should he of all people?
     "Zared has proclaimed himself King of Achar and -"
     "So I have heard," Isfrael said.
     It did not occur to Caelum to wonder how Isfrael had heard.
     "So now we have a King of Achar again," Isfrael continued. "What are his intentions?"
     "Who knows what he plans," Caelum said. "And who knows if your forests are safe. I go to stop him now. And thus to my purpose -" "No."
     "You don't know what I -"
     "I know. Our father asked the same of the Avar, and he was denied as well. I will not help you in this war. We are not a fighting people." "You owe me loyalty!"
     "I owe you nothing! I have never offered fealty and homage, Caelum. Not to you, not to our father." "Isfrael, please…" "No."
     "What if Zared comes to destroy the forests?" Isfrael studied Caelum carefully. "I do not think Zared would do that." "But-"
     "Zared is your problem, Caelum, not mine. He does not become my problem until I see the sparkle of axes in my forests. I will not send my people out to fight someone else's war. Do you understand?"
     "Then damn you, too," Caelum said bitterly, and turned his back on his brother.
     Isfrael sat and watched Caelum stalk towards the edge of the grove, and then fade out of view as he worked the Song of Movement.
     "He has a lot to learn," Shra said softly.
     Isfrael thought for a while before answering. "He will always do his best," he finally said, "although I wonder if his best is going to be good enough."
     There was a step behind them, and an Icarü birdman emerged from behind the Earth Tree.
     It was WingRidge CurlClaw, Captain of the Lake Guard.
     "I do thank you," he said, bowing deeply before Isfrael.
     "I would not have helped him in any case," Isfrael said. "The Avar will never take up weapons and stalk the field of war."
     Isfrael paused and watched WingRidge carefully. "You are an interesting young man," he said eventually. "And you serve your master well."
     "I am bound to his service," WingRidge said. "But it has been hard sometimes."
     Isfrael nodded sympathetically. "He will understand that eventually," he said, then waved the birdman away.
     Faraday slipped quietly into the room and sank down into the chair by Niah's bed. The woman was alone. Over the four weeks of nights that Faraday had come in here, she had occasionally found WolfStar tangled about Niah, but his visits were becoming rarer, and Faraday supposed he had more urgent business elsewhere. Niah was sleeping badly. She murmured and tossed, and by the sheen of the moon Faraday could see that the woman was perspiring lightly. One hand lay resting on her by now slightly distended belly.
     No doubt she feared sleep, yet did not know why. Faraday smiled, and prepared herself to enter the dream world. Every night Zenith took another step closer, every night Niah was pushed just that bit closer to the baby. Step by step.
     Closer to entrapment. Faraday closed her eyes.
     When she opened them again she found herself in the misty world of the shadow-lands.
     About her bustled - and yet drifted - the dream reflection of Ysbadd. People moved from shop door to window, from street corner to boudoir, from wharf to store room. All moved slowly, hesitatingly, as if they had forgotten their purpose, and yet somehow all arrived at their destination.
     Faraday wandered the streets, ignoring, and being ignored by, all those who drifted past her.
      Ah, there was Zenith. Under the awning, its canvas flapping inconsonantly in this most visionary of domains, where she had stopped last night, unable to take another step.
     Faraday moved to her side. "Zenith."
     Zenith lifted her eyes and stared at Faraday. Then she smiled, slowly and hesitatingly. She had only been smiling since the plains of Tarantaise. It was a good sign.
     Faraday took her hand, and then leaned forward and hugged her. "Niah worries, yet does not understand the reason for it. She walks through her days, her eyes flitting over her shoulder, gasping at breezes in shadows. She is losing, Zenith. She is losing."
     "And the baby grows?"
     "Healthy and ever receptive. But we must be quick, for the baby is approaching the stage of its growth where it can be inhabited by a spirit. And you and I know which spirit we want to inhabit it."
     Zenith nodded, and looked down the street. "I feel stronger tonight, Faraday. I can surely walk to the wharves."
     "Good! Zenith, if you can walk to the wharves, then I can find you passage. Imagine, all the way to the Isle of Mist and Memory! For once you need take no steps."
     Zenith gave an almost predatory smile. She could sense victory, and it lent her strength. She had no guilt about what she was going to do. Niah had felt nothing but triumph in possessing her and in spiriting her into this dream-world prison.
     "Then let us make a start," she said and, leaning on Faraday, she took a step forward.
     The way was fraught with difficulties. As with each night's journey over the past two weeks, Zenith found every step agonising, so difficult that her breath wheezed in and out of her lungs, and her fingers dug into Faraday's arms and shoulders with the strength of her distress. Some steps Faraday thought Zenith was about to collapse, but then Zenith would somehow find the strength to stumble forward. They moved through the streets, each movement a torment, no other thought on their minds but that Zenith must lift one leg and put the next foot forward, and then transfer weight to it, and then find the strength to use it to spring her into another step, and then another, and so onwards, ever onwards. Until finally…
     "Faraday, I cannot go on! This must be it for tonight. I am sorry, I cannot…"
     "Look, Zenith!" Faraday grasped Zenith's chin in fierce fingers and forced her head up. "See? Five more steps and we are at the wharf!"
     "Five steps too many, Faraday. Tonight I must rest here. I must. I -"
     "Then prepare to live your life, your eternity, locked in this shadow-world! The baby grows apace, Zenith. We cannot leave it too much longer. A week, ten days at the most, and some other spirit will inhabit it! I cannot keep them at bay for much longer. Get to the wharf, Zenith, or I swear I will not return tomorrow night!"
     Zenith wailed, and Faraday's heart turned over in sorrow and pity for her, but she let none of it show on her face.
     "Move!" she hissed. "Now!"
     And Zenith put another foot forward, screaming with the pain, but Faraday urged her on, and somehow she got another foot forward, even though her leg was trembling so badly Faraday thought it would never bear her weight.
     But it did, and then they were only three steps from the wharf.
     Again Faraday's fingers bit painfully into Zenith's face.
     "Look!"
     And Zenith raised her head and looked.
     There, bobbing in the grey sea, was a boat. A small boat, a lantern in its prow. A flat-bottomed ferry.
     Zenith took another step, and bent double and groaned with the pain. But again she raised her head and looked.
     "Where did that come from, Faraday?"
     "It had lost its owner," Faraday said. "And, lost, it needed a purpose. So I summoned it. Come, two more steps."
     They were two more steps that almost tore Zenith apart, but she took them. She sobbed as she sank down on the ferry's cushions, and Faraday climbed in beside her and cast off the rope from the wharf.
     "I will ride with you a way," she said, "before I return. And tomorrow night… tomorrow night I will greet you at the pier of Pirates' Town. Oh, Zenith, there, there. No need to cry, it will soon be over. All will be well soon, I promise."
     She took Zenith's head and placed it in her lap, and she let Zenith sob until she fell into an exhausted sleep.
     Faraday sat there a long time, watching the grey waters drift past, lost in the shadow-sea between the coastline of Nor and the Isle of Mist and Memory. She sat there until she felt the approach of dawn in the world of the waking, and then she vanished, leaving Zenith to travel the shadow-seas by herself.
     The dawn was still and cold, and Faraday stood at the lip of the southern cliff of the mount, seeming not to notice the thousand-foot drop beneath her. She shivered, more in delight than discomfort, and wrapped her arms about herself. She loved standing here, looking out into the great southern ocean, watching the waves roll in, feeling the salty wind push back her hair.
     It smelt of freedom. If she wished she could step off the cliff and die, or she could turn and walk back to the priestesses' dormitory for breakfast.
     Which?
     She laughed, revelling in the fact that she had a choice, and felt rather than heard StarDrifter land on the grass behind her.
     She half turned her head and grinned. "Come to save me, StarDrifter?"
     He returned her smile briefly, took the step between them and wrapped his arms about her.
     "You're cold."
     "I'm alive."
     His arms tightened, and Faraday relaxed back into them. Faraday shared a deep companionship with StarDrifter. A friend, she thought, for all life and through all future lives.
     "Zenith is closer," she murmured, and his arms tightened.
     "Where?"
     "Drifting the shadow-seas between Nor and this island."
     "When?" His voice was tight, anxious.
     "I hope to find her on the shadow-pier of Pirates' Town tonight."
     "And then it will be only days until she reaches the Mount?"
     "Only days, StarDrifter. You will have your granddaughter back soon."
     "Axis and Azhure should be caring for her, helping her to find her way home."
     Faraday was silent for a long moment, then she shrugged in his arms. "We love her, StarDrifter, and we help her."